Katagiri High-Japan's most elite private school, where wealth, status, and power determined everything. Children of aristocrats, conglomerate heirs, politicians, and even mafia families walked its polished corridors. Rules here were strict, discipline iron-clad. Almost all the students who studied in the school are hairs and hairesses of the elitest, richest, wealthiest and most powerful families in the country. Even the teachers are from noble families. Katagiri high is famous for excellent education and opportunities, and highly qualified and capable teachers.
April 8, Monday.
"Study hard, sweetheart. I believe in you." said Hiroshi Matsuyuki. His withered tired face soft with a gentle smile. His kind but tiered eyes soft with fatherly affection and pride as he looked at his daughter.
Amane, who was seating accross from her father at the old low table, eating breakfast, smiled sweetly at her father. She was beautiful. But the smile, so pure and full of innocence, lit up her whole face and made her look even more radiant.
"I will, papa! I promise I will make both you and mama proud!"
Her father chuckled and patted her head affectionately. "I am already proud of you, Amane. And I am sure your mother is equally proud of you too. Even if she is not around, I am sure she is watching over you from the heavens above."
Amane nodded. Her large Innocent brown eyes sparkling with determination, "But I will make you two even more proud, you just watch."
Hiroshi chuckled. Hiss heart swelling with fatherly love for his daughter. Amane was five when her mother passed away. Since then Hiroshi raised Amane all by himself. He was poor. He worked as a lower class labourer. But even in poverty, he did his best to keep his daughter happy.
He raised her with love. His heart swelled with pride and love as he looked at his daughter. She had grown so much.
Both father and daughter ate breakfast. The food was simple. Just steamed rice, pickled vegitables, and boiled eggs. It was home made with love, with warmth.
The apartment was small. It was cramped and rundown. Signs of poverty everywhere.
The entrance barely fit a pair of shoes. The tiles were scuffed from years of hurried mornings, the edge of the step worn smooth where they had kicked off sneakers and collapsed into life. A single plastic shoe rack leaned against the wall, one leg shorter than the others, compensated with folded paper.
Beyond it, the room opened all at once. There were no hallways. Just a six-tatami-sized space, pretending to be a home. The floor was covered in faded vinyl that mimicked wood, peeling at the corners. A thin futon lay rolled against the wall, bound with a strap, its fabric slightly yellowed from time and sunlight. At night, it became a bed. Now in the morning, it became space again.
Against one wall stood a narrow desk, scarred with pen marks and cup rings. A cheap lamp perched on top, its light uneven and warm, humming faintly like an insect. Textbooks were stacked in carefully.
The kitchenette was barely a suggestion of a kitchen. One burner. A sink shallow enough to make washing dishes feel like an argument. A rice cooker sat on the floor beside it, trusted more than any appliance in the room. Above the sink, a small shelf held instant noodles, soy sauce packets, and a single chipped mug that had survived several tenants before them.
The unit bath was tucked behind a sliding door that never closed properly. Plastic walls, faintly yellow, smelling of soap and old steam. The mirror was cloudy no matter how much it was wiped. When it rained, you could hear the neighbor's shower through the walls, a reminder that life was happening just inches away.
A tiny balcony stretched outside the sliding glass door. Just wide enough for one person to stand and breathe. A rusted railing held two clothespins and a single hanger, often carrying laundry. Below, the city hummed. Trains sighing, vending machines glowing, footsteps passing without ever stopping.
This small appartment room has been home for Amane and her father for years. It might be nothing for others. But for innocent Amane, it was a warm home. .
After breakfast, Amane said to her father, "I should go and get ready for school now, papa." Her father smiled warmly. "Yes. Ofcourse, dear." He said gently.
She got up and went to the small bathroom, washed her face, brushed her teeth and changed into her school uniform: A white shirt, tucked in a pleated white and red check skirt and red tie. And a black blazer, with Katagiri high logo on the right chest.
The uniform is cheap, second hand. And a little big for her petite slender frame. She brushed her long smooth brown hair neatly. All in front of the bathroom mirror which was the only mirror they had.
As she looked herself in the mirror, she blushed.
"I look so cute" she whispered. Then she smiled brightly, pumping her tiny fist upward. "I will do my best." Then she came out of the bathroom.
Hiroshi, who was sitting at the low table, looked up. And he smiled warmly, gently at his daughter.
"You look so cute, Amane. My beautiful daughter." He said.
Amane beamed sweetly as she clumsily twirled around, chirruping innocently, "Hehe. Am I really, papa?"
Hiroshi chuckled. He got up as he walked towards her and patted her head gently, lovingly. "Yes, sweety. You are very cute." He said. His heart swelling with fatherly affection for his innocent sweet daughter.
Amane smiled brightly, sweetly. Her rosy cheeks pinkned even more out of sweet innocent joy. "Hehehe." She giggled sweetly.
She took her cheap old bag. The leather was cracked along the edges, and the handle had been stitched once, twice… maybe more. It had belonged to someone else long before it belonged to Amane.
"I shall be going now, papa!" She said excitedly to her father.
Her father nodded with a smile. "Yes. Be safe on the way to school, Amane."
She smiled brightly. "Yes I will. You be safe at work too, papa."
With that she put on her worn shoes and left the cheap rundown apartment she and her father shared.
The appartment Amame and her father shared was the fifth one at the second floor of the building. Room no 205.
The building was a dingy three storied structure with rusted stairs. The paints on the walls peeled off in many places. The building was old, signs of poverty everywhere. Each floor had five dingy clamped rooms inhabited by poor tenants. People lived here. Poor people who couldn't afford proper housing.
Amane walked down the rusted tin stairs. The steps creaked under her dainty feet. The railings rusted. Everything spoke of poverty here. But for her, this place was her home. Her father and mother moved here when she was one. They were poor but they lived happily until her mother, yuna passed away due to a severe illness when Amane was just five.
Since then, her father was her only family.
Amane smiled full of innocence.
"I will do my best!" She said to herself. Her innocent heart full of hope, and determination as she walked to school.
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As Amane walked to school, she admired the view of spring,
"It's a wonderful day." She murmured to herself.
Amd indeed it was.
The sky was clear and blue. Birds chirrupped. It felt like the city was transformed into a dream painted in soft pink and white. Sunlight filtered through endless rows of sakura trees, their branches heavy with delicate blossoms. Petals flutter gently in the breeze, drifting through the air like falling snow.
Spring had always been her favorite season. She had always admired spring.
After walking for about forty minutes, the school came into view.
Katagiri high.
The building itself was elegant. The school grounds stretched like a carefully guarded secret. An elite private academy whose legacy whispered through every brick and blossom. Beyond the tall wrought iron gates, lacquered a deep obsidian black and adorned with the gilded emblem of Katagiri High's founding family, a tree–lined pathway welcomed students.
Sakura trees, stood on both sides of the path. Their branches, heavy with pale pink blossoms, bent gently under the weight of spring. With every breeze, petals drifted down like silent snow, dusting the stone path in a soft pastel carpet that shimmered under the morning light.
The main building, a three–story fusion of western elegance and Japanese refinement, rose proudly at the end of the path. Its white walls gleamed beneath the spring sun, framed by dark tiled roofs that curved like brushstrokes of ink. Narrow balconies wrapped around the upper floors, where wind chimes made from delicate glass rang faintly. Soft, bell light laughter carried by the wind.
To the right, the courtyard garden bloomed in careful perfection. Azaleas in passionate red, neatly trimmed hedges forming timeless patterns.
Behind the courtyard, the archery range stretched in solemn discipline, banners of deep crimson fluttering, each marked with calligraphy representing honor, diligence, and perseverance.
Amane stood a little distance away from the wrought iron gates, clutching the strap of her old, second hand school bag tightly. The gentle morning wind caught her long brown hair and brushed her cheeks with the familiar scent of spring.
Ahead of her, the world felt like a painting she was not sure she was meant to enter.
The tall iron gates of Katagiri High stood open. Golden letters shimmered on the crest above. So polished they are reflecting tiny fragments of sky. Everything looked new, expensive, and impossibly far away.
Students, in expensive tailor made uniforms, confidently walked through the gates in groups, laughing softly. Their leather bags shinning as if freshly bought that morning, smooth and unblemished.
Amane looked down at her own uniform, brushing her fingers over the buttons. The fabric was clean but slightly faded, the collar softened from years of washing. It once belonged to someone else.
Expensive black cars pulled up, lining up to the front. Drivers in dark suits stepped out to open doors Elite students emerged effortlessly, their hair neatly styled with brushes that had surely never been shared between siblings.
Amane gulped. Her heart racing with nervousness.
Everyone looked so important. It was clear that these students were all from rich, elite and wealthy families.
With her cheap bag and second hand uniform, Amane felt so out of place among these rich students. She felt so small, so insignificant compared to them.
'Am I really allowed to be here?' she thought nervously to herself. 'Do I even belong here?'
As soon as the thought came to her mind, her father's face flashed before her eyes. His tired eyes, his withered face, his rough hands, and his gentle smile.
He worked tirelessly so that she could live a happy life. She studied hard to get admission in a good highschool after junior high. She still remembered her father crying tears of joy when she got a scholarship and admission to Katagiri High. He was so happy. Then he worked even harder to afford the school fees.
Her beloved father believed in her so much.
Amane shook her head, as she gently slapped her cheeks with both her palms.
"No! I can't think like this!" She said to herself. "I worked hard to get here. I will do my best. I can't put him down. I will make him proud."
Taking a deep breath, and steadying her racing heart, Amane walked towards the gate, determined to never give up.
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With a heart full of nervousness, Amane stepped through the gates into the school grounds. She kept her gaze down as she walked timidly towards the school building.
Students in experisive uniforms passed her confidently, without a glance, their perfume expensive, their bags new and expensive.
Amane felt so small, so insignificant among the elite students. She lowered her gaze even more. Her cheeks burned with nervousness.
Despite of the boost of encouragement she gave herself earlier, she felt unsure, hesitant. As if she didn't belong here.
As Amane was walking nervously, her gaze fixed on the ground. She bumped into something solid. Or rather, someone.
She stumbled back, loosing her balance.
Her old bag fell to the ground from her hands and spilled a few textbooks, notebooks, and a hand-stitched pencil case her father made for her.
"Ah-!" She gasped softly in panic. Her brown eyes wide in shock, her cheeks paled.
Her body wavered backward, her feet stumbling against petals scattered across the stone path. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the fall.
But before she could fall, alarge strong calloused hand caught her delicate slender wrist firmly, but gently, and steadied her effortlessly.
The hamd was warm, but the brute strength in it was unmistakable.
Students stopped, gasping in horror. Whispers erupted from the crowd.
"It's him!"
"Did she just bump into him?!"
"Into Tsukishima Sama?!"
"She is dead!"
"Poor thing!"
"He will kill her!"
"Who is she?"
"First year…?"
"Poor, judging by her uniform and bag…"
With her heart racing violently, Amane timidly looked up. And as soon as she did, her breath caught in her throat.
Standing in front of her was a tall, broad sholdered young man. He was total six feet, two inches in height and towered dengerously over her petite slender delicate form. He had a strong, athletic, rock hard muscular physique. Strong muscles rippled with raw strength.
His white school shirt, tucked out of his white and red check school pants, clung to his strong physique, highlighting his strong rock hard rippling muscles. The red school tie was missing and the top two buttons undone, revealing his strong neck, coller bone, and a glimpse of his solid chest. His school pants clung to his long muscular legs. The black school blazer drapped around his strong frame. The buttons undone. Katagiri High's logo pressed on the right chest of both the blazer and the shirt.
His skin was alabaster, smooth, glowing, without any imperfections. The morning sunlight casted a golden glow on his smooth alabaster skin.
His platinum blonde hair, long, glossy, and slightly messy, cascaded over his sholder, tied loosly to the side with a deep violet ribbon. Unkempt bangs framed his sharp strikingly handsome and beautiful face in a way that made him look both aristocratic and feral at once. The morning sunlight made his hair shimmer and look even more beautiful.
His beauty was striking, aristocratic, princely, but also edged with a feral allure.
But the most striking feature on his beautiful face were his eyes.
He had sharp, pearcing forget me not blue eyes framed by long, thick lashes. They were soulful, and sparkled with deep kindness, playful mischief, and a violent ocean that dared anyone alive to challenge him.
He was both terrrifying and captivating. His beauty stunning, but carrying a dengerous allure. His presence was commanding. His aura intimidating, making the air heavy.
Amane's innocent young heart raced with innocent fear, and shy awe as she looked up at him. Her cheeks flushed as she took in his beauty. Her brown eyes wide.
He was terrifying, but so beautiful.