At exactly 12:45 p.m., the glossy black sedan slid into the parking lot of Higashimurayama Minami Junior High School, its polished surface gleaming beneath the noon sun. The car rolled to a smooth stop, the purr of its engine fading into silence.
"Wait here," Sumi said softly to her driver, her tone calm yet commanding. Without waiting for a response, she opened the door and stepped out.
Her entrance was striking. The fitted blazer hugged her curves tightly, the short skirt showing the elegant lines of her legs, made more alluring by sheer black stockings that glimmered faintly in the light. Her chest, both front and side profile, pressed firmly against the fabric, drawing eyes whether one wanted to or not. Fair skin, luminous even in the shade of the school's entrance, seemed to carry its own glow.
She adjusted her blazer with one graceful tug, heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement as she crossed the lot. With the quiet confidence of someone used to being obeyed, she ascended the steps and moved into the school building without hesitation.
Her destination was clear. She passed students' shoe lockers and hallways lined with faded posters and bulletin boards until she arrived before the principal's office. Raising a hand delicately, she knocked twice.
"Come in," came the muffled response from within.
With practiced poise, Sumi turned the handle and entered. The door swung inward, and she stepped inside with elegance that seemed out of place in the humble academic setting.
"Hi, sensei. I am Sumi Oda. My husband's secretary called you this morning."
"Oh—yes, yes!" The principal, a man in his late fifties, pushed back his chair quickly and stood, bowing lightly. "Please, sit here, Oda-san."
Sumi settled gracefully onto the chair he indicated, crossing her legs neatly, every motion deliberate and refined.
The room itself bore the modest character of a middle-school office. The walls were cream-colored but yellowed slightly with age, dotted with framed certificates, school awards, and photographs of graduating classes. A faint scent of chalk and old paper lingered in the air.
Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with binders, educational manuals, and neatly stacked student files. Behind the principal's desk sat a large cabinet with sliding glass doors, displaying trophies from inter-school competitions. The desk itself was broad but cluttered: stacks of paperwork, a half-finished cup of green tea, and a pen holder bristling with markers.
The principal, balding with a fringe of graying hair, wore a neat but slightly rumpled suit. His glasses slid low on his nose, and his kind but weary eyes lit up with a mix of curiosity and nervousness at the sight of her.
"Oda-san, would you like some coffee, tea… Or perhaps a soft drink?" the principal asked politely, straightening his glasses.
"Only water, please," Sumi replied without looking up, her voice soft yet firm.
"Of course." The principal reached for the black desk phone, lifting the receiver with a slight tremor. He gave the order for a bottle of mineral water, then carefully placed it back in its cradle.
"...So," he began, shifting uneasily in his chair, "may I ask you a question, if you don't mind, Oda-san?"
Sumi gave a noncommittal hum, nodding lightly as her eyes remained fixed on the glow of her smartphone screen, her manicured fingers scrolling with elegant disinterest.
The principal cleared his throat. "Your son… With a family as influential as yours, I imagine you could easily secure admission to any of the top private academies in Tokyo. Yet, he is enrolled here—in a working-class, public middle school." His tone was curious, but beneath it lay cautious disbelief.
Just then, there was a polite knock at the door, and the secretary stepped in with a chilled bottle of mineral water. She placed it on the desk before excusing herself.
Sumi reached forward slowly, twisting open the cap with a faint hiss, and poured the clear liquid into the glass set on the table. She took her time, her movements deliberate, letting the silence weigh down the principal's question before finally answering.
"Because of his friend," she said evenly, lifting the glass. "He has a best friend whose family cannot afford private academies. So, he chose to enter this school with him."
The principal blinked at her answer, surprised by the simplicity of it. "And… did you agree to that?" he asked cautiously.
Sumi had just taken a sip, but at his words, she set the glass down gently, her eyes flickering with a sharp, devious glint. A slow smile curved across her lips.
"Why?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement. "Do you not have confidence in your school's teaching abilities?"
The principal's face flushed as he waved his hands quickly. "No, no, not at all! I—I wasn't saying it like that…"
"Sensei," Sumi said, finally placing her smartphone face-down on the principal's desk. Her tone was calm and confident. "I know my son and his friend. They are brilliant students. Regardless of the school they attend, they'll do very well in their lives."
"Oh, yes, of course," the principal replied quickly, nodding, eager to agree.
Wanting to shift the conversation, he reached for the phone again, dialing an internal number. "Please send Mori-sensei to my office," he instructed.
Five minutes later, a polite knock came at the door.
"Come in," the principal called.
The door opened, and Mori-sensei entered. His eyes immediately went to the guest seated elegantly in front of the desk.
"This is Oda-san, Daichi Nakamura's mother," the principal introduced.
"Hello."
"Hello."
They exchanged a handshake.
The moment Mori-sensei's palm touched hers, he felt the warmth of her delicate yet firm grip. His eyes flicked up, and for a heartbeat, his composure faltered.
God… stunning…
Her beauty wasn't the casual kind. Everything about her radiated refinement—the flawless fairness of her skin, the subtle perfume that seemed to weave into the room's stale air, and the perfectly styled hair framing her poised face. Even the way she sat, legs crossed with effortless elegance, made her look less like a mother at a school and more like someone who belonged in the lobby of a luxury hotel or a corporate boardroom.
Mori-sensei caught himself staring and quickly forced his professional mask back into place, but inside, his heart had skipped. She's on a completely different level from the women I see every day…