Ari woke up at 7:00 AM. His body felt like he'd been trampled by running elk.
Every muscle was just moaning in protest the second he tried to sit up. His shoulders felt like they'd been beaten with hammers. His legs were shaking and exhausted. His hands were still sore from two weeks of relentless training. They throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. He'd pushed himself too hard yesterday, squeezing in one last brutal session before today.
Before this day.
He lay back down for a moment, staring at his ceiling, trying to process the reality that had seemed abstract until now: he was leaving home. Actually leaving. Moving into the dorms at Yoshimura High School, a forty-minute drive away from everything he'd ever known.
"Ari!" His mother's voice rose, coming up the stairs. It was bright as always but the edge was noticeable. It was tight. "Breakfast is ready. You need to get up!"
He could hear it—the emotion she was trying to hide behind cheerfulness. His mother had been like this all week, aggressively positive while her eyes got a little too wet whenever she thought he wasn't looking.
Ari forced himself out of bed, literally dragging his slender body, and headed for the shower.
The hot water helped marginally, working some of the stiffness from his muscles. Ari stood under the stream longer than necessary, letting the heat seep into his sore shoulders, trying to prepare himself mentally for what came next.
When he finally emerged, his reflection in the fogged mirror was almost unfamiliar. Two weeks of brutal training had changed him in subtle but noticeable ways. His face was leaner, more defined. His shoulders, while still slender, had actual shape now. Even his posture was different—straighter, more confident.
He dried off and pulled on the clothes he'd laid out the night before: all black outfit...as usual.
Black wide denim jeans on his long legs. A simple black cotton T-shirt. And one of his favourite jackets, a black suede bomber.
Ari figured he'd try to blend in. But that wouldn't work. He was coming as a new student in casual wear in a school filled with red and blue uniforms. And he was tall. So he decided for this.
His eyes looked himself from head to toe, checking himself out. Yep. This was good. He had a fashion sense at least.
Plus, black was his favorite color anyway.
[GOTHIC BOY]
Ari gave a self conscious chuckle. The system didn't say anything else. Ari's hair was still damp, fell across his forehead in its characteristic messy style. Thick and absolutely messy black. He considered trying to fix it...for about 3.5 milliseconds before deciding it didn't matter. Nothing about his appearance was going to make him fit in at a place like Yoshimura.
The suitcase was already mostly packed—he'd done it three times over the last two days, compulsively checking and rechecking. Clothes, laptop, textbooks he'd barely touched, toiletries, the basketball his parents had bought him. And of course his Retro Jordans.
Everything was organized with carefulness. Nervous carefulness.
But now, standing in his room with the morning light filtering through his window, the reality of it all hit him right in the kisser.
This room—his room, with its faded Kobe poster and cluttered desk and the basketball in the corner. It wouldn't be his daily space anymore. He'd come back for visits, sure, but it wouldn't be home the same way.
He sat on his bed, looking around at the familiar space. The books on his shelf, the certificates on his wall from what little he could make of his academic endeavours, the deflated basketball he'd abandoned three years ago sitting next to the new one his parents had bought him.
[FEELING HOME SICK ALREADY?]
"Is that allowed?"
[YES. YOU CAN FEEL WHATEVER YOU WANT]
[EXCEPT DOUBT]
[NOW DO NOT TAKE TOO LONG]
[YOUR MOTHER IS MAKING AN UNNECESSARY AMOUNT OF FOOD]
Ari sighed and looked around his room. His large tired hands were numb. This time it wasn't pain. He felt the ridges of his wall on his flushed palm. "It's probably a coping mechanism for her."
He moved to grab his suitcase and headed downstairs.
Breakfast was an elaborate affair that his mother had clearly been preparing since before sunrise. The table was covered: rice, miso soup, grilled fish, tamagoyaki, pickled vegetables, fresh fruit. Enough food for five people, let alone three. His mother was just placing the plates on the table. Her dragon ball apron was wound tight on her beautiful body as she moved with a chefs grace.
"Mom, this is—"
"Eat." Michiko's voice was firm, but her eyes were red. "You need your strength. And who knows what kind of food they serve at the dorms. I'm sure it's nothing nutritious. You'll waste away."
"The school has a cafeteria with a nutritionist on staff," his father said, already eating with his characteristics table etiquette. "I researched it."
'Course you did dad.'
"The meal plans are actually quite comprehensive."
"Still." His mother pushed more rice onto Ari's plate. "Nothing beats my rice and tamagoyaki."
They ate in relative silence, filled with things unspoken. Ari's mother kept finding reasons to get up—more tea, more pickles, did anyone want seconds?—anything to keep moving, to not acknowledge what this meal meant.
Finally, his father set down his chopsticks. Ari knew his father. And he knew this was coming. One last reassurance.
"Ari."
"Yeah, Dad?".
"Remember who you are." Hideaki's voice was steady and serious. "Yoshimura is a prestigious school. You'll be surrounded by wealth, privilege, talent. Don't let it change you. Don't let it make you feel lesser. Not even for a second"
"Hideaki—"
"No. He needs to hear this." His father looked at Ari with an intensity. His eye curvature wasn't as obscene as Ari's but it was still there. That intense glare that bore to your soul. Gray eyes.
"You earned your place there through merit. Through hard work. That's worth more than any amount of family money or social status. Understand?"
Ari nodded with a tight throat. His father was as gentle as he was intense. Way more cool than himself.
"Yes dad."
His mother reached across the table, taking his hand. Her large onyx eyes went over her son's in a soft worry. Mixed with pride. "And don't forget to call. Every day if you want. And eat properly. And sleep enough. And—" Her voice cracked slightly. "And be happy. Please be happy."
"I will, Mom. I promise."
They sat there, the three of them, in their small kitchen with its familiar clutter and warm lighting, and Ari realized this was one of those moments. The kind you remember years later with perfect clarity—the exact angle of the morning sun, the smell of the food. The way his mother's hand felt in his.
Then his father stood up. "We should load the car. It's a forty-minute drive, and you need to check in before the afternoon."
Loading the car itself was difficult, especially because Ari's arms were still bone tired from all his training. Ari had packed one suitcase, one backpack, and his basketball. His mother insisted on adding two more bags.
"Mom, I don't need—"
"Extra blankets. It gets cold in the mountains. And snacks, you need snacks. And this—" She held up a care package that looked like it could sustain a small expedition. "—is emergency food. Just in case."
"Just in case what? The cafeteria explodes?"
"You never know" She was positively cheerful now, packing things into the trunk with determined efficiency.
"Better to be prepared. What if you get hungry late at night?", Michikos movements quickened as the images set in. Her only son in a place without her."What if the cafeteria food is terrible? What if—"
"Michiko." His father's hand on her shoulder stopped the spiral. "He'll be fine."
She turned away quickly, but not before Ari saw her wipe her eyes.
His father methodically arranged everything in the trunk—the one suitcase Ari had actually packed, plus the additional bags his mother had insisted on, then what looked like enough non-perishable food to survive a nuclear winter.
"Your mother thinks you're going to war," his father said quietly, a small smile on his face.
"I feel like I am."
"You're not. You're going to school. You'll be back for breaks. This isn't goodbye forever", Hideaki sighed looking up in the sky, "it's just... a new chapter."
But it felt bigger than that. Permanent in a way that Ari couldn't quite articulate.
The car ride started quiet. Ari sat in the back, watching his neighborhood slide past—the convenience store where he'd bought drinks after training, the park where he'd spent two weeks destroying himself, the small streets he'd walked his entire life.
"So," his mother said, breaking the silence with forced brightness. "Are you excited? About the dorms? You'll have a roommate and everything. That'll be nice, won't it? Someone to study with?"
"Yes. Probably."
"And the campus is supposed to be beautiful. Very historical. French architecture."
"Yes, Old Country french."
More silence. Then his father turned on the radio—jazz, his favorite—and somehow that broke the tension. Jazz broke the tension....wow.
His mother started reminiscing about when Ari was little, telling embarrassing stories that made Ari groan and his father chuckle.
"Remember when you were seven and decided you wanted to be a professional dinosaur explorer?" She chuckled. "I mean those were your exact words."
"Mom, please—"
"You wore that little paleontologist vest for 2 weeks straight! Refused to take it off! You even slept in it!"
"I was seven!"
[WEIRDO GEEK]
"I was seven!," Ari replied again but this time, it wasn't to his mother.
"You were adorable." His mother had turned around in her seat, looking at him with unguarded affection. "You were always so determined. Even then. When you set your mind to something..."
"He gets that from you," his father added as he drove. "The stubbornness."
"I like to call it Willpower."
They snickered, and for a few minutes, the car felt like a bubble of normalcy. Just a family on a drive, nothing heavy, nothing ending.
But then his mother's expression shifted. "Ari, you know you missed two weeks of school. The other students—they've already started and made friends."
"I know, Mom."
"We're not worried about your academics," his father added. "You're smart enough to catch up. But socially... it might be difficult. First impressions matter."
Ari had been thinking about exactly that for days. Every time he scrolled through Yoshimura's social media—which was constantly active, some of the students there lived their lives specifically to document them—he saw how far ahead everyone was. Group photos from the first day. Inside jokes. Friend groups.
And here he was, arriving two weeks late, the day before the most important tryout of his life, about to walk into an established social ecosystem as a complete unknown.
A tall unknown. Who played basketball. Or claimed to.
"They're going to expect me to be good," Ari said quietly. "Because of my height. They'll see me and think I'm some basketball prodigy who's going to dominate. And then I'll show up to tryouts and they'll realize I'm just... not."
[ACCURATE SELF-ASSESSMENT]
[BUT WE COULDN'T CARE LESS WHAT THEY THINK]
"Then prove them wrong," his father said simply. "You've been training for two weeks. You're not the same player you were in middle school."
Ari wanted to believe that. He'd improved—his stats proved it. But going from "completely hopeless" to "marginally competent" wasn't exactly the dramatic transformation that would impress anyone.
His mother had turned around again. "Ari, sweetheart, you don't have to make the team. You know that, right? If it doesn't work out, that's okay. There are other ways to enjoy school. Other activities."
"I'm making the team."
The words came out more forceful than he'd intended. His mother blinked, surprised. His father glanced in the rearview mirror, eyebrows raised.
"I'm making it," Ari repeated, softer but no less determined. "I didn't train to death, for two weeks to give up before I even try."
His parents exchanged a look—wordless communication.
"Alright then," his father said. "Then make it."
As they drove further from the city, the landscape changed dramatically. Urban sprawl gave way to suburbs, which gave way to increasingly rural scenery. The road wound through valleys painted in early spring green, past rice fields and small farms, under skies that grew heavier with clouds.
"It might rain," his mother observed, looking up at the darkening sky. "Did you pack an umbrella?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Two umbrellas?"
"Why would I need two umbrellas?"
"Why do you need two toothbrushes. But I gave you two anyway."
The absurdity of it made them all laugh. But Ari understood—his mother needed to worry about things like umbrellas because the alternative was worrying about bigger things. About her son leaving home. Whether he'd be okay without them.
The scenery grew more beautiful as they approached Karuizawa's outskirts. Rolling meadows stretched out on either side of the road, impossibly green, dotted with wildflowers. A single tree stood in one field, perfectly positioned like someone had planted it there for aesthetic purposes. The air smelled different here—cleaner, fresher, carrying the scent of wet grass and earth and growing things.
"Wow," Ari breathed, pressing his face to the window.
The clouds above were heavy and grey, pregnant with rain that hadn't fallen yet. The light had that particular quality that came before storms—everything sharper, more vivid, colors somehow more intense than normal. The road ahead was empty except for them, cutting through the landscape like a dark ribbon through green fabric.
Then the road entered a section where massive willow trees lined both sides, their branches creating a natural tunnel. The sudden shade was dramatic, sunlight filtering through the canopy in scattered beams that painted the asphalt in shifting patterns. The temperature dropped noticeably. The outside world disappeared behind a curtain of leaves and branches that seemed to lean inward, embracing the road.
"It's like something from a fairy tale," his mother whispered.
It was. Magical in a way that made Ari's chest feel tight. He was really doing this. Really leaving his normal life behind for... whatever Yoshimura was. Whatever he could make it.
The willow tunnel opened suddenly onto a more manicured road, and there—appearing almost without warning—was the first gate.
Yes. The first gate.
"How big is this school?" Ari muttered, staring at the imposing structure. It was proper wrought iron, at least twelve feet tall, with stone pillars on either side. A small guardhouse sat to the left.
His father pulled up to the guard station. A man emerged—middle-aged, uniformed. His face suggested he took his job very seriously. He approached the car with an expression that shifted from professional to something else when he saw them.
Surprise? Disdain? It was subtle, but there.
"Identification and admission documents, please."
His father handed over the paperwork. The guard examined it with unnecessary thoroughness, his eyes flicking from the documents to their car—an ordinary Toyota, well-maintained but definitively average—and then to them. His expression suggested he was mentally recalibrating.
"You're..." He checked the papers again. "Toru Ari. First year. Scholarship student."
The way he said "scholarship student."
Ughhh...what's this guards problem.
Ari felt his mothers silent annoyance. His father's expression remained utterly neutral.
The guard looked at their car again, and this time the disdain was clearer. He probably expected Yoshimura students to arrive in Mercedes or BMWs, not average family vehicles driven by average-looking people.
"You're quite late," the guard said, still holding their papers. "Classes began two weeks ago."
"Hospital recovery," Hideaki's voice was colder than intended. "Bus accident", Ari completed.
His mother turned. Her gaze could have melted glass. Void eyes of all black. Her usual warm demeanor had vanished, replaced by something that reminded Ari exactly where he'd gotten his intensity from.
"Is there a problem with our documentation?" she asked, her voice perfectly polite and absolutely lethal.
The guard faltered under her stare. Then he made the mistake of meeting Ari's eyes.
Ari had been told his entire life that his eyes made people uncomfortable. The beastial feline shape from his father and the onyx black void from his mother. Also the dark/purple skin under both eyes. Eerie and unearthly.
He'd always tried to soften his gaze, to look less intimidating.
But not today.
The sight the guard saw was like a hungry hungry jaguar. A pure blood thirst. Not aggressive. Just a blank void of...death.
The guard actually stuttered. "I—of course—everything seems to be—" He practically threw the papers back through the window. "Welcome to Yoshimura High School. Please proceed."
As they drove through the gate, Ari caught his father's expression in the rearview mirror. The smallest smile. His father didn't even register the guard. To Ari that was even more cool. It's like he had too much dignity for it.
"You ignored him good dad", Ari said proud.
Hideaki sighed. "People like that aren't worth acknowledging." His father's voice was matter-of-fact. "He's a small man with a small amount of power. Don't let people like that affect you."
His mother reached back and squeezed Ari's knee. "You're going to love it here. I just know it."
The road beyond the first gate continued through carefully maintained grounds. The wild meadows had been replaced by manicured lawns, though not aggressively so—Yoshimura's landscaping still maintained a natural aesthetic, just controlled. Workers were visible at intervals, maintaining the grounds with the kind of attention to detail that spoke of significant resources.
Maple trees began appearing along the road, their branches just starting to show the full green of spring. Students appeared in the distance—just a few at first, walking in pairs or small groups. Even from far away, they looked different. Put-together. Confident. The way they carried themselves suggested they belonged exactly where they were.
Ari swallowed hard. "They look so... Yoshimura."
"What does Yoshimura look like?" his father asked.
"Like that. Like they're from a different world."
[YOU'RE NOT WRONG]
[ECONOMIC STRATIFICATION]
The second "gate" wasn't really a gate at all—it was a massive stone archway, at least twenty feet tall, with "Yoshimura High School" carved into the granite in both Japanese and French. The architecture was impressive and awe-inducing.
Designed to make you feel small as you passed under it.
A guard station sat to the side, but this one was staffed by a woman—heavy-set, middle-aged, with a genuinely warm smile that immediately contrasted with the previous guard.
"Welcome! Welcome!" She emerged from the station with actual enthusiasm. "New student?"
"Yes, ma'am. Toru Ari, first year," Michiko said in a proud gentle smile.
"Wonderful!", she said already accepting their identification papers, "And two weeks late, I see. Hospital?" At Ari's nod, her expression softened. "Well, you're here now. Let me get you your materials."
She disappeared into the station and returned with three books, handing them through the window to Ari's mother.
"The school almanac—has all our history, very interesting. The prospectus—academics, rules, expectations. And the campus guidebook—most important one, This place is enormous, you'll get lost without it."
Ari took the books, surprised by their weight and quality. The almanac's cover was embossed leather. The prospectus was thick as a small novel. The guidebook had detailed maps and color-coded sections.
"Written by students, mostly," the guard continued. "The guidebook especially. Very helpful. Welcome to Yoshimura."
She waved them through with genuine warmth, and Ari found himself smiling back.
"See?" his mother said. "Nice people exist here too."
The campus beyond the archway was... Intimidating didn't seem like a strong enough word.
Ari had seen photos online, but photos didn't capture the scale. Buildings sprawled across the landscape in what seemed like deliberate artistic arrangement—not a rigid grid, but a thoughtful layout that worked with the natural terrain. The architecture was exactly as advertised: French countryside style, all elegant lines and tall windows and those distinctive steep roofs. Towers rose at strategic points, not quite castle-like but definitely more dramatic than any high school needed to be.
"This isn't a school," his mother breathed. "This is almost its own town"
"This isn't even the main campus yet," his father said, checking the map in the guidebook. "This is the 'outer facilities' section," He continued, visibly impressed.
They drove slowly, taking it in. A football field appeared on the left—full-size, pristine, with what looked like professional-grade lighting. Then tennis courts. Multiple tennis courts. Six? Eight? Ari lost count.
"Holy shit," he whispered.
"Ari" His mother's reprimand was automatic.
"Sorry, but look at this place."
A swimming facility. A giant building labeled "Arts Center." Another marked "Music Hall." These were whole single buildings dedicated for every single specific activity.
Each building was substantial enough to be impressive on its own.
"It's like a university," his father observed, though his tone suggested even that was an understatement.
[PRIVILEGE]
[POPULATION: EVERYONE BUT YOU]
"That does so much for my confidence", Ari whispered dryly.
[ANYTIME]
They passed students on walking paths—more of them now, moving between buildings. Groups laughing together. Couples holding hands.....Ari gulped. Someone on a bicycle that probably cost more than Ari's entire wardrobe. Everyone looked like they'd stepped out of a fashion magazine that he didn't have access to.
The third gate was another stone archway, though this one had no guard station. A sign announced they were entering the "Central Campus." Beyond it, Ari could see more buildings, larger and more densely arranged, and what looked like an actual town square.
"We're parking here..," his father said, pulling into a lot that had maybe twenty cars scattered across enough spaces for two hundred. "Administrative building should be a short walk according to the map."
Ari's face felt hot instantly.
They were going to have to walk through campus. Past students. With his parents. Carrying his obviously overpacked luggage. Looking like exactly what he was: a late-arriving scholarship student from a normal family who didn't belong here.
"Ari." His mother had turned around again, reading his expression. "Stop overthinking."
"I'm not—"
"You are. Your face does this thing." She demonstrated, scrunching up her forehead. "You're worried about what people will think. Don't be. You belong here as much as anyone."
"Do I though?"
"Yes." His father's voice was firm. "Admissions thought so. I think so. Your mother thinks so. Now get out of the car before I drag you out."
Walking through Yoshimura's central campus with his parents felt like being in a spotlight. Students passed them constantly—heading to classes or activities or wherever beautiful, confident rich kids went—and Ari could feel eyes on them. On him specifically, probably because of his tall frame in all black was somewhat difficult to ignore. He looked good though.
His mother, seemed completely oblivious to any attention, narrating their surroundings like they were on a casual sightseeing tour. "Oh, look at those windows! Ari, are you seeing this architecture? And the gardens! So well-maintained."
His father checked the guidebook periodically, navigating with the same methodical precision he brought to everything.
Ari tried to disappear inside his jacket, which was impossible given his height.
A group of girls passed them, all wearing variations of the Yoshimura uniform—which apparently had enough options to allow for significant personal expression. They glanced at Ari, whispered something to each other, and giggled. He felt his face burning.
[WHAT ARE YOU BLUSHING FOR BOY?]
[THEY BARELY NOTICED YOU]
The administrative building was exactly what Ari expected from Yoshimura—elegant, imposing, with those tall French windows and a entrance that looked more suited to a mansion than a school office. Inside, the foyer had polished floors that reflected the light from a chandelier—an actual chandelier—and walls lined with portraits of previous headmasters and distinguished alumni.
"This is a bit much," his father muttered.
The reception desk directed them to the registrar's office on the second floor, up a staircase that was definitely designed more for aesthetic impact than efficient traffic flow. Every detail of this place screamed money and history and tradition.
The registrar's office was mercifully more normal—still nice, but functionally so. Behind a large desk sat a man in his forties, wearing glasses.