In the heart of Tokyo, where land is incredibly precious, Tsukinomori Girls' Academy sits serenely, like an old lady who deeply understands the ways of time.
From kindergarten to high school, this lineage of elite education has flowed for over a century. Although the kindergarten and elementary school are located elsewhere, its most illustrious core remains this junior high and high school campus, sharing a vast garden.
The towering cast-iron gates are entwined with delicate vine patterns, and the gateposts are made of dark granite polished to a mirror sheen, silently narrating the weighty and inviolable rules.
In spring, the tall trees stretch out their newborn leaves, extending along the winding main road. The layers upon layers of translucent, tender green seem to drape a flowing veil over the road, gently surrounding the calm, age-old buildings.
Sunlight filters through the sparse branches and leaves, casting dappled shadows on the road, as if the entire path is enveloped in a vibrant, verdant halo.
A sleek black Maybach S680, like a silent deep-sea fish, glides to a halt outside the gates of Tsukinomori. The car door opens, and the crisp, sweet air of early spring rushes in.
Togawa Sakiko is the first to step out, her navy blue sailor uniform accentuating her snow-white skin. The white, modified collar and trim outline clean lines, and the neat gray bow tie is fastened at her collar. Her carefully styled blue pigtails sway gently with her brisk movements, tracing a smooth arc in the morning light.
Following closely behind is Wakaba Mutsumi. The same navy blue uniform, gray bow tie, and white plaid skirt, but on her, it seems to be shrouded in a mist. Her light green hair falls softly, almost blending with the color of the uniform, making her appear even quieter. She lowers her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the tips of her black uniform shoes, with a natural sense of detachment from the surrounding bustle and attention.
Finally, Togawa Fuuki steps out of the car, his posture calm as he treads onto the stone path in front of the Tsukinomori gate. He habitually adjusts the cuffs of his dark gray casual wear, his movements meticulous.
However, as soon as he stands still, he notices two gazes locked firmly on him.
Sakiko and Mutsumi have turned around at some point, looking at him with an expression that mixes surprise and... a hint of subtle disappointment? Especially Sakiko, whose calm golden eyes clearly spell out the question, "That's it?"
Fuuki raises an eyebrow slightly, silently casting an inquiring glance.
Being stared at like this, Sakiko seems to have her little thoughts seen through, and a faint blush instantly rises on her fair cheeks. She clears her throat a little awkwardly, her gaze drifting to the perfectly trimmed boxwood bushes, her voice a little lower than usual, with a hint of embarrassment at having her expectations punctured and a forced casualness:
"Ahem... it's nothing." She pauses, seeming to find further explanation even more awkward, but can't help but mutter in a low voice, "...I thought you would 'swoosh' out of the car like you did when you first came to my house."
As her voice falls, the air seems to quiet for a moment. Even Mutsumi, who had been quiet all along, blinks her eyes, her gaze briefly lingering on Fuuki, as if silently confirming—he indeed didn't jump.
Fuuki looks at Sakiko's appearance of trying to maintain composure but unable to hide her embarrassment, and glances at Mutsumi next to her, who seems to be silently "testifying." His face remains expressionless, but a hint of almost helpless amusement flashes deep in his eyes.
He is silent for two seconds before giving an incredibly serious explanation in his calm, unwavering voice:
"I'm wearing new shoes today."
He even lowers his head, symbolically glancing at the spotless, obviously expensive dark brown leather shoes.
Sakiko: "..."
Mutsumi nods slightly, as if completely understanding and accepting this "reasonable" reason.
"Then... let's go in." Sakiko's voice finally breaks the brief awkwardness, taking on a natural, hostess-like tone.
"Tsukinomori Music Festival doesn't start until the afternoon, but there are still academic arrangements in the morning. Everyone has to go to the classroom to gather and take attendance before they can go to the auditorium together." She turns her head, her gaze lingering on Fuuki for a moment before quickly shifting away.
"There's still time, so Mutsumi and I will take you around the school, since opportunities to visit a girls' school are rare for you." She adds, deliberately maintaining a calm tone.
The three of them pass through the heavy cast-iron gate, as if passing through an invisible barrier. Inside and outside the gate are two different worlds.
Girls wearing the same uniform are already walking by in twos and threes on campus, their steps light, their voices like the chirping of birds on spring branches, with a unique restraint disciplined by etiquette.
Their gazes, either curious or reserved, sweep over Fuuki, this obvious outsider, and quickly retract when they touch Sakiko and Mutsumi, nodding in greeting. Everything is in order, allowing Fuuki to once again experience the strict discipline here.
Sakiko walks in the front, her pace brisk, like a dutiful guide. She points to the distant pointed auditorium: "Tsukinomori Music Festival will be held there in the afternoon, one of Tsukinomori's most important annual events." She points to a green-roofed red brick building: "That's the main teaching building of the junior high school department. Mutsumi and my classrooms are both inside."
Fuuki's gaze moves with her guidance, silent, like a silent recorder, engraving the layout of this academy in his mind.
His gaze occasionally sweeps over the girls wearing navy blue uniforms and white plaid skirts, over their meticulous hairstyles, their perfectly appropriate smiles, over the almost consistent swing of their skirts as they walk, and the little bit of insignificant personality differences revealed by how tightly their bow ties are tied.
An invisible force of discipline called "decency" permeates every breath of air. If not for a young lady who has grown up in a similar environment since childhood, it would be difficult to adapt here.
Fuuki couldn't help but compare it to the seminary he had once attended, but when he thought of the timetable that was almost filled by himself and the almost non-existent entertainment activities, he gave up thinking.
The landscape of the garden area is undoubtedly Tsukinomori's pride. In the open space, carefully trimmed hedges outline smooth geometric patterns, and European-style flowerbeds are dotted among them, blooming with seasonal flowers.
Just then, a girl also wearing a uniform, with a hardcover register tucked under her arm, walks over quickly, with a badge symbolizing her identity pinned on her chest.
Her gaze politely sweeps over Sakiko and Mutsumi, finally landing on Fuuki, with a hint of official inquiry.
"Togawa-san, Wakaba-san, good day." The girl's voice is clear and pleasant, like striking a tuning fork.
"Is this... a visitor? Although today is the Tsukinomori Music Festival, temporary entry for non-school personnel still requires a simple registration and filing at the Discipline Office. This is the prescribed procedure." Her gaze lingers on Fuuki, with an air of undeniable authority.
Sakiko frowns slightly, seeming to find the procedure a bit superfluous.
"It doesn't matter." Fuuki's voice is steady, with no discernible emotion.
"Registration is proper." He turns to Sakiko, his gaze calm, with a kind of unspoken reassurance, "Will you come with me to explain the situation? It'll be faster that way."
Sakiko glances at Fuuki, then at the quiet Mutsumi, and nods. She understands that Fuuki wants to get it over with quickly.
"Okay, we'll go to the Discipline Office now."
Just as Sakiko and Fuuki are about to leave with the other student, Mutsumi, who has been silent all along, gently tugs on Sakiko's uniform sleeve.
"Saki... I, want to go look over there first."
The girl's slender finger points to the row of small flower racks by the teaching building door, her eyes with a hint of barely perceptible anticipation and concern.
Sakiko follows her gaze and instantly understands—there are the cucumber seedlings that she personally takes care of. She has been thinking about them these days because she took leave for "family matters."
"Then Mutsumi, don't go too far. We'll be back to find you soon."
The girl nods, a hint of reassurance flashing in her light green eyes, as if she has already seen that familiar tender green.
Sakiko and Fuuki no longer delay, following the meticulous classmate, walking quickly along the stone path towards the Discipline Office. Sakiko even looks back to make sure Mutsumi is moving towards the flower racks.
Fuuki's gaze also briefly swept over the girl's destination along with Sakiko's line of sight—there stood several rows of progressively higher raw wood display stands, upon which were scattered unglazed pottery pots. Most of the pots contained common, vibrant flowers and plants, timidly stretching their tender leaves and sparse flower buds in the slightly cool early spring air.
And Mutsumi's gaze, immediately and precisely, landed on those few distinctly different plants—the cucumber seedlings she had personally planted.
The early spring chill had not yet completely dissipated, making them appear particularly delicate and tender. The light green stems stretched upwards with effort, their tips curled with sensitive tendrils, like a baby's tightly clenched fist, tentatively seeking to entwine around a wooden pole and take another step upwards.
Mutsumi bent down slightly, her pale green hair sliding from her shoulder, almost touching the tender leaves. But she only moved closer, her calm eyes intently gazing at these small lives, as if she could hear the faint sounds of the tendrils stretching, and feel the pulse of sap flowing beneath the leaves.
The exuberant, unrestrained vitality in this small space seemed to slightly relax her tense shoulders.
Just as she was wholly focused on that touch of new green, a slight sound, incongruous with this tranquil garden, abruptly rang out... Tap... tap tap—
An electric tester, about fifteen centimeters long, entirely bright yellow, with a metal probe at the tip and a small section of worn black insulating sleeve, rolled down from a position diagonally above her. It first bumped against the edge of the rough wooden frame, making a crisp sound, then bounced once before stopping, perfectly, in front of Mutsumi's black shoe tip.
Mutsumi's body stiffened abruptly. She suddenly straightened up, a clear flash of alarm flitting across her amber eyes. Following the trajectory of the rolling electric tester, she hastily raised her head.
In the shadows beside the heavy door of the teaching building, an aluminum stepladder had been erected at some unknown time. At the top of the ladder, near an inconspicuous metal equipment maintenance box embedded in the brick wall above the doorway, stood a person wearing a full set of overalls.
The overalls were an excessively bright, excessively new sky blue, which, against the backdrop of Tsukinomori's simple and heavy red brick and the elegant navy blue uniforms of the surrounding girls, seemed exceptionally abrupt and glaring, like a clumsy collage.
A similarly suspiciously new blue baseball cap was pulled down low, the shadow of the brim almost completely covering the upper half of the face, revealing only a common jawline with a slightly dark complexion.
The person was holding onto the ladder with one hand, while the other hand seemed to have just retracted from the open equipment box with its complex internal wiring, and was looking down at the girl below the ladder. The toolbox was placed open at the foot of the ladder, and the tools inside were arranged... a little too neatly, appearing new and lacking the wear and tear of daily use.
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry!" The person on the ladder spoke, the voice carrying through the not-so-great distance, a middle-aged man's voice deliberately light and even carrying a touch of exaggerated apology.
It sounded very kind, but like it was covered with a thin layer of oil, slick and insincere.
"My hand slipped! Didn't scare you, did I?"
Mutsumi didn't answer, only subconsciously taking half a step back, her pupils slightly contracting as she stared intently at the vague figure on the ladder. An instinctive chill, born of intuition, quietly crept up her spine.
The fingertips of her hand at her side unconsciously curled slightly.
"Um... could you please pick it up for me?" The person on the ladder seemed completely unaware of the girl's vigilance, or rather, deliberately ignored it. His voice still carried that plasticky, kind smile, even becoming a little more "sincere."
"You see, I'm still on the ladder, and it's quite troublesome to come down. Just that electric tester, yes, right at your feet, the yellow one. Help me out, little girl? It's just a small favor."
The man's words were like invisible threads, carrying an imperceptible urging and enticement. Under the shadow of the baseball cap, Mutsumi felt as if two substantial gazes had pierced through the cover of the brim, firmly fixed on her.
It was very quiet around, the distant chatter of the students seeming hazy and far away.
A sense of isolation and helplessness gripped Mutsumi's heart. She hated this feeling of being watched and demanded by strangers, which made her almost want to turn and run away immediately.
But the other party's words, the incredibly sincere request, were like an invisible net, trapping her in place, unable to move.
The person on the ladder seemed even more "anxious," leaning forward slightly: "Please, little girl! Just pick it up and hand it to me, it'll be quick! You see, I haven't finished this work yet…"
The urging sounded like dense drumbeats, tapping at Mutsumi's fragile nerves.
She nodded her head extremely slightly, the movement so small that it was almost imperceptible, as if her neck had just twitched stiffly. Then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, she bent down extremely slowly, with great reluctance, towards that glaring bright yellow object at her feet.
The navy blue skirt swayed slightly with her movement, brushing against her smooth calves.
Her slender fingertips trembled slightly, reaching towards the cold metal probe. Her pale green hair slid from her shoulder, covering her lowered profile, also concealing the last trace of hesitation and panic in her eyes.
Her fingertips and the cold metal probe were only a hair's breadth apart.
"Mutsumi."
A low and steady voice, like a stone thrown into stagnant water, instantly shattered the suffocating pressure field.
The moment the voice sounded, Mutsumi retracted her outstretched hand as if shocked by electricity. She hastily straightened up, her amber eyes filled with lingering alarm.
Togawa Fuuki stood a step away from her at some unknown time. There was no expression on his face, his gaze passing over Mutsumi's shoulder, precisely cast towards the figure in the brand new sky blue overalls at the top of the ladder.
There was no questioning, no anger in that gaze, only a pure indifference that the girl was familiar with.
The person on the ladder also paused for a moment, obviously due to this sudden intervention. The hand holding the ladder tightened unconsciously, the brim of the hat pulled down even lower, only revealing that ordinary jawline.
Fuuki withdrew his gaze, turned and stood in front of Mutsumi, reaching out to naturally place his hand on Mutsumi's shoulder—not a comforting pat, but a guide and a barrier.
"Sakiko is looking for you." His voice remained steady, without a hint of fluctuation.
"It seems there's a slight problem with the registration on her side, she needs you to go over and confirm the student information."
The reason given by the boy was reasonable and impeccable.
Without giving Mutsumi any time to react or hesitate, Fuuki applied a little guiding force with his hand on her shoulder, while his body had already turned, forming a protective posture, half blocking her from the aluminum ladder.
"Let's go." These brief two words seemed more like they were said to someone else.
Under the cover of his aura, Mutsumi's body seemed to finally find a trace of reliance. The chill and suffocation that gripped her heart receded slightly.
Almost subconsciously, obediently following Fuuki's steps, she was quickly turned and led away, half-guided and half-protected by him.
The sound of their footsteps quickly disappeared at the end of the path leading to the main teaching building, leaving only those tender cucumber seedlings in the flower pots gently swaying in the breeze.
On the aluminum ladder, the figure wearing the glaring sky blue overalls remained in the original position, motionless. The shadow of the brim was like thick ink, completely swallowing all of his expression.
Only the hand resting on the ladder's crossbar, wearing equally new white cotton gloves, tapped the cold metal bar with the tip of its index finger, slowly and intermittently.
Tap... tap... tap... Clang!
The aluminum ladder was suddenly kicked hard, startling the man above to frantically grab the crossbar.
"Kato, aren't you done yet?"
A girl in the same uniform came out of the building, with many white metal hairpins clipped on her red hair, her crimson eyes filled with resentment.
"Eh... 10 more minutes?" The man smiled awkwardly.
Clang!
The aluminum ladder shook violently again.
"3 minutes! Hurry up and get over here for rehearsal!"
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