"So, this is the school…"
Standing in front of the school's towering gates, Daichi Sato muttered to himself.
It was his first day at Seishin High School, one of the most prestigious academies in Japan. Only the best and brightest could even dream of walking through these gates. The spring breeze carried the faint scent of cherry blossoms, petals drifting lazily across the stone pathway. Beyond the gates, pristine white buildings gleamed in the morning sun, the courtyard already alive with chatter.
Daichi adjusted his bag strap and sighed. ("This place looks like the setting for an anime… too bad I'm the background character, not that it matters")
Seishin High was well-funded by powerful private organizations, its board filled with elite families whose children studied there. It had every academic stream, a staggering array of clubs, and more sports than Daichi even knew existed.
And then, there was Daichi Sato.
A typical, average schoolboy with barely passing grades, extreme laziness, and no physical talent worth mentioning. His looks were nothing special, his dead-fish eyes hardly inspiring praise, and his plain black hair was neither long nor short enough to be memorable.
Even in his old class, only a handful of students with exceptional memory probably remembered his name. His involvement in school life was so minimal that if he disappeared one day, the world would hardly notice.
Strangely, Daichi liked it that way. Fewer interactions meant fewer complications. ("Less people, less problems. Simple math.") This mindset, however, always worried his mother.
So how on earth had he managed to enter Seishin High?
It all began a month ago…
The Sato household was nothing extravagant, just a modest two-story home in a quiet neighborhood. The wooden floors creaked in protest with every step, and the faint aroma of miso soup drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the scent of detergent that lingered from laundry day.
"Wake up! Daichi, it's already 10 a.m.!" Keiko Sato's voice thundered from below, cutting through the lazy Sunday morning air.
Upstairs, Daichi lay sprawled across his futon, his blanket tangled around his legs like a boa constrictor. His room was a battlefield of crumpled worksheets, manga volumes stacked haphazardly, and a gaming console blinking silently in the corner. A lone ceiling fan whirred lazily overhead, more asleep than he was.
He cracked open one dead-looking eye. ("Ah yes… the sweet sound of maternal nagging. Better than any alarm clock.")
"Geez! If he slacks like this, he'll never keep up in high school," his mother muttered downstairs. The clinking of dishes echoed through the thin walls as she marched to the mailbox. Moments later, the thud of letters hitting the kitchen table followed.
"Why can't my mom let me sleep peacefully on Sundays? Even my final exams just ended…" Daichi groaned, checking his phone before burying his head back under the pillow.
"If you don't come down right now, you might as well forget your breakfast!" Keiko warned, punctuating the threat with a sharp bang on the sink.
Daichi groaned again. ("And there it is. The final warning.") He yawned, dragged himself out of bed, and stretched like a half-dead zombie.
He shuffled toward the kitchen, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, and peeked at the pile of mail on the table. "Whad arr dezz…" he mumbled through the foam.
"Brush your teeth first and then talk!" his mother snapped, not even looking up.
Scowling, Daichi turned and stomped away, muttering something incomprehensible. The kitchen itself was neat in a lived-in way — refrigerator covered with sticky notes and magnets, rice cooker humming softly, sunlight filtering through a lace curtain.
Keiko began sorting through the letters, stacking bills to one side and tossing flyers aside. Then one envelope caught her eye. She paused, opened it, and frowned.
"Dear Daichi Sato, this letter is an invitation from Seishin High School…"
She blinked twice. "Probably a prank. But… it's too detailed to be fake."
Her eyes darted to her phone and she quickly searched the school name.
From the kitchen doorway, Daichi peeked in, toothbrush still in hand. He froze instantly. His mother's face now radiated an ominous aura, like she had just unlocked her final form.
Daichi's mind ran wild. ("Okay, think… what sins did I commit? Did I forget to take out the trash? Did I break a plate? No… this is worse. Way worse…")
"Daichi, come here for a second," she called out sweetly. Too sweet.
Daichi gulped, resigned to his fate. With all the energy of a condemned man walking to the gallows, he shuffled forward.
Instead of punishment, however, she handed him the letter.
The rest of the house seemed to grow silent around him as he read the words. His hands trembled slightly. ("There's no way this was meant for me. God must've accidentally sent this to the wrong address…")
His mother dialed the phone number printed at the bottom. After several rings, a voice finally answered.
"Hello, this is Seishin High School. How may I help you?"
Both Daichi and his mother nearly dropped dead on the spot.
Keiko recovered first. "Yes, hello. I'm Keiko Sato, mother of Daichi Sato. We received a letter from your school, but… I think there's been a mistake."
The woman on the line asked for the code from the letter. After Keiko recited it, she replied, "Yes, Daichi Sato has been accepted under a special recommendation from a higher official. Unfortunately, their identity cannot be revealed."
Daichi slumped into a chair, pale as a ghost. ("No one in school would recommend me unless it's doomsday… and my grades? Forget it.")
His mother pressed again, but the answer didn't change.
And so, fast-forward to the present: Daichi stood at the gates of Seishin High, two questions haunting him.
("Who the hell recommended me into this school… and why?")
("Also… what's the passing score here?")
As he stepped onto campus, a strong gust of wind swept past, scattering petals and voices around him. He was instantly swallowed by the crowd, students buzzing with energy.
Suddenly, the crowd parted, forming a clear pathway.
Curious, Daichi peeked over shoulders. A girl walked gracefully through the center, unbothered by the hundreds of eyes on her.
Her beauty was delicate, porcelain-like, her presence commanding. Silken white hair cascaded to her waist, catching the light like moonlit strands. Crystal-blue eyes, framed by pale lashes, gleamed like gemstones — clear and radiant, yet distant, as if guarding another world.
Gasps, whispers, and murmurs rippled through the students around her:
"Is that her?"
"She's even prettier in person!"
"Don't stare too long… she'll notice!"
Every step she took seemed rehearsed, yet effortless — as though the world itself bent to her rhythm.
Daichi's jaw slackened. ("Royalty. Definitely royalty. And definitely not my business.")
But her identity was revealed soon enough.
A nerdy-looking boy suddenly popped up beside Daichi, eyes sparkling with excitement. "That's the goddess of this school — first-year student Ayane Amamiya!"
"…Uh, so… who are you?" Daichi asked.
The boy ignored him entirely. "She's the eldest daughter of the Amamiya family. Her father, Takayuki Amamiya, just made the world's top 100 richest list last month—"
Daichi's eyes widened. ("Wait… wasn't that the same news playing the day my letter came?")
The boy rambled on, listing Ayane's accomplishments: perfect grades, elite sports, martial arts training, piano recitals, countless awards. A flawless prodigy destined to follow in her father's footsteps.
Daichi pinched the bridge of his nose. ("She's my age? Great. Just great. If I want to survive here, I'd better stay miles away from her.")
The boy kept chattering, completely ignoring Daichi's protests.
"Anyway…" Daichi sighed, squeezing through the crowd. "Doesn't seem like he'll stop anytime soon. I should get going."
He finally broke free, found a quiet corner, and muttered to himself:
"This year will be a pain."