Aoyama Osamu lived near Kita-Senju Station.
Kita-Senju, in Adachi Ward, was one of Tokyo's 23 wards with the lowest land prices.
Yet he and the Ono sisters attended Kaimei High School, located in Akasaka, Minato Ward—a hub for the wealthy.
It was a typical elite school, with a stable 30%+ admission rate to Tokyo University.
Aoyama Osamu and the Ono sisters represented its ordinary side; the son of the Tokyo Governor, who graduated last March, exemplified its excellence.
Their admission wasn't just due to decent grades—it tied to their mothers' deaths.
A simple accident, but the wealthy had more ways to ease their consciences than regular folk.
Switching to the Hibiya Line at Hibiya Station, the train felt different—even the passengers' scent seemed distinct.
Was it the environment or the price of their clothes?
"Cherry blossoms are almost gone," Ono Mihana said to Aoyama Osamu with a hint of regret.
He'd collapsed before the school year started, missing the entrance ceremony and two weeks of classes.
"No worries," Aoyama Osamu grinned, clenching his fist. "I fainted under a cherry tree—petals like pink clouds. That spring scene's etched in my vision forever. I've got spring in my grasp!"
"When's your life's spring coming?" Ono Mizuki teased.
"Soon, soon."
"How soon?"
"On its way."
Last night, he read a mystery novel, pushing his material progress to 81%.
At this rate, dropping out to read books would be faster for money, but without published work, Mihana would never agree.
Long-term, a good education meant more than just cash.
Aoyama Osamu stopped chatting and pulled out his mystery novel to read.
"Osamu-kun," Mihana said softly, "don't forget to study."
"Got it," he smiled.
"If your monthly exam sucks, watch Nee-chan deal with you," Mizuki said, eager for drama.
Aoyama Osamu tapped her head with his book.
"Ow!" Before Mizuki could snap, he exclaimed, "Your height's perfect for this!"
Mizuki blushed.
Out of sight, she slipped her hand into his uniform pants and pinched his leg.
"Argh!"
"Pervert! Making that sound!" Mizuki's face reddened more.
Japanese girls were short—Mizuki was barely 158 cm, maybe 160. Mihana was 162 cm.
Aoyama Osamu mused idly, flipping through his novel.
They got off at Hiroo Station, passed through the sycamore-lined embassy street, and reached Kaimei High School's gate.
The gate resembled a manor's entrance.
Occasionally, a luxury car—straight out of TV—rolled into the TV-worthy circular driveway, dropping off a young master or lady.
Kaimei's Western-style uniforms looked like tailored suits or gowns on them, school like a ball's opening act.
Embroidered chest pockets, pinned school badges—small, pricey trinkets.
Aoyama Osamu and the Ono sisters wore the same, of course—private school tuition and uniform costs weren't their burden.
At school, the usually cheeky Mizuki transformed into a demure maiden.
"Aoyama! You're back?" a slightly long-haired boy approached from behind.
"Yup."
Kobayashi Shiki, whose father was once a big hospital doctor, now ran his own clinic.
If wealth were a crime, he'd get three to five years.
After Kobayashi arrived, the Ono sisters naturally split off.
"Head okay?" Kobayashi asked.
"Smarter now."
"You—"
"Morning, you two!" A sturdy guy with a kendo bag joined them.
"Aizawa, this guy says his head's smarter after the fall!" Kobayashi said instantly.
"Congrats, Aoyama," Aizawa Jun said.
Him too—three to five years.
"Thanks," Aoyama Osamu nodded.
"You guys…" Kobayashi sighed.
"What're you reading, Aoyama?" Aizawa asked.
"Mystery novel," Aoyama Osamu closed it, stuffing it into his bag. "Part-time job's banned, so I'm writing a novel for cash."
"You—" Kobayashi paused, then gave a thumbs-up.
"Impressive, Aoyama," Aizawa admired.
"Sometimes I impress myself," Aoyama Osamu said, hands in pockets.
Girls' glances drifted from nearby.
'I see—I do have tons of handsome guy experience.' Aoyama Osamu noticed what he usually missed.
"Head aside, Aoyama, you missed two weeks—a big thing happened!" Kobayashi said dramatically.
"Someone died?" Aoyama Osamu turned. "Who? Where? When?"
"Compared to that, my news isn't big—just a beautiful transfer student."
"Transfer student, huh," Aoyama Osamu mused.
Material potential?
"A real beauty, Aoyama," Aizawa nodded.
Aoyama Osamu had zero interest in beauties.
"Super rich. The principal personally greeted her parents on transfer day!" Kobayashi said mysteriously.
Rich beauty… no interest unless she paid him.
The trio chatted as they entered the school, its Greco-Roman buildings supported by marble pillars.
Some structures were fully Western-style, likely for foreign students.
Spending time here, even a clean guy like Aoyama Osamu felt he deserved a few years in jail.
"You two head to class. I've got the teacher's office," Aoyama Osamu said.
"Cool."
"See ya, Aoyama."
Parting with his friends, Aoyama Osamu headed to the office.
"Men!" Outside, naginata club girls practiced on the first-floor corridor.
Withering cherry trees scattered their last petals on the girls in morning light.
Distant brass band sounds echoed.
It was 8:10 AM, 20 minutes to first period. Could these sights and sounds be material?
At the office door, Aoyama Osamu focused.
He knocked lightly.
"Teacher."
"Aoyama-kun? Come in."
"Excuse me."
Compared to the school's grandeur, the office was plain, stacked with folders.
Aoyama Osamu was in Class 2-4; his homeroom teacher, Akita Shio, a 28- or 29-year-old Japanese literature teacher.
Among her desk's papers, three—no, four—brick-thick Kōjien dictionaries stood out.
"You okay?" Akita Shio looked him over.
"Fine. Thanks for your concern," Aoyama Osamu replied.
She nodded. "Work hard on your studies."
"Will do."
"Also, your special guidance. The school wants you to join a club."
"Understood," Aoyama Osamu accepted. "But, Sensei, can I have a month to try clubs before deciding?"
Akita Shio raised her right index finger, shaking it—no.
"Then," she said, "one week. By Friday after school, join a club. No skipping—I'll check attendance."
"…Fine."
A week was enough for material.
"Visit them," Akita Shio stressed.
Glancing around—other teachers were heading to class—she lowered her voice. "Aoyama-kun, the school cares about student safety. No more part-time jobs, or you'll be expelled."
He got it.
An elite school couldn't afford a student death—it'd hurt enrollment.
"Understood," he said.