When Kael arrived in front of the room Jon had described, he knocked gently on the door. A middle-aged man's voice rose from within, calling him by name.
"Enter."
Kael opened the door and entered the principal's office, giving a slight bow in greeting. The principal was a man in his fifties with white hair, sitting behind a large desk. Upon seeing Kael, his stern expression softened slightly, and he motioned for Kael to take a seat.
"You must be Ryuzaki Kael, right? Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too."
"To be honest, I was surprised when your uncle said he was enrolling you in this school. I hope you like it here."
"(I guess Tora-san introduced me as his nephew. Well, he's not entirely wrong.) This school really is as impressive as they say."
"Thank you for the compliment. I hope you've adjusted to your class. If you have any requests or questions, feel free to let me know."
"Actually, I do have one request. I heard from a friend that there's a terrace on the roof once used by the botany club."
"Yes, that's correct. Is there a problem?"
"(It seems Ichida was telling the truth.) Actually, I'm interested in growing plants. I was wondering if I could use that space, if it's not a problem."
"Of course. The door is always open, and there should be pots and soil up there already. If you need anything else, just let me know. (Perfect. I should stay on good terms with the future heir of our number one sponsor, KTora Trading.)"
"In that case, with your permission, I'll head to class. Thank you again for your help."
Kael left the principal's office and made his way toward the classroom. When he arrived, the teacher hadn't entered yet. Kael quietly settled into his seat, but suddenly, he was surrounded.
"Ryuzaki! Where are you from? You don't look Japanese at all."
"Seriously, how tall are you? You must be at least 1.80."
"I'm mixed. My father was a foreigner."
Kael just stared at his empty notebook.
"You've got a really solid build,"one of the boys said, eyeing Kael's shoulders. "Are you a swimmer? Or a fighter? Those arms aren't normal."
"I just run a lot. I don't do anything special."
Kael leaned back slightly, clearly bothered by how close the boy was. His voice was ice-cold.
One of the girls piped up excitedly,
"We heard you came from Turkey, is that true? What's it like there? Are the people like you?"
"It's a complicated place. The food is good, that's about it."
Kael took a deep breath, trying to remember Jon's warning about attracting attention.
The teacher's brisk and authoritative entrance into the classroom caused the suffocating circle around Kael to disperse immediately. Relieved by the retreating crowd, Kael appeared entirely focused on the ongoing lecture; however, his tactical mind was already meticulously mapping out the most efficient exit route from the building. When the final bell finally echoed through the halls after hours of monotonous and wearying lessons, he shouldered his bag instantly, without waiting for the ensuing explosion of teenage noise.
While navigating through the crowded hallway, his eyes met Jon's for a fleeting second, and they exchanged a brief, subtle nod as if confirming a silent and solemn pact. After exiting the bustling school gates, Kael deliberately avoided the primary thoroughfares, preferring the seclusion of the narrower side streets. Along the way, he vigilantly scrutinized his reflection in several shop windows, ensuring with professional precision that no treacherous shadow was trailing his movements.
Following a fifteen-minute bout of rapid, rhythmic walking, he finally reached the relative safety of his apartment building. He ascended the stairs with silent haste, entered his flat, and turned the locks three times, effectively severing his last remaining tie to the chaotic outside world. After tossing his bag onto the edge of the bed, he headed straight for the kitchen. The first day of this supposedly tranquil life Tora had granted him had been far less bloody than his past, yet it proved to be mentally exhausting in ways he hadn't anticipated.
As he began preparing a modest and solitary dinner, the absolute silence permeating the apartment felt strangely heavier than the deafening violence of his former life. After flicking on the lamps of his windowless sanctuary and leaning against the cold kitchen counter, he began to contemplate his objectives for the following day. The rooftop terrace at school would be more than just a place to cultivate plants; it was destined to become his sole strategic stronghold within this unfamiliar city.