"Toru Ari?" He stood as they entered, offering a polite bow. "I'm Mr. Masaki, the school registrar. Welcome to Yoshimura. Though I understand your arrival has been somewhat delayed."
"Hospital recovery," Ari said, returning the bow.
"Yes, I have the documentation here. Bus accident, quite serious." Mr. Masaki's expression showed genuine concern. "How are you feeling now? Fully recovered?"
"Mostly, yes."
"Good, good." He gestured for them to sit, pulling up files on his computer. "We'll get you processed quickly. Class schedules, dormitory assignment, meal plan, all the administrative necessities." His fingers moved across the keyboard with practiced efficiency. "You'll be in the first-year dormitory, East Wing. Single room, given your late arrival—we don't want to disrupt an established roommate situation."
Ari felt a mix of relief and disappointment. Single room meant privacy, but also isolation.
Mr. Masaki continued processing forms, occasionally asking questions or having Ari and his parents sign documents. The man had that particular air of someone who'd been in education administration for years—brisk but not unkind, efficient but not cold.
Then he paused, looking at Ari over his glasses. "Six foot six. Sixteen years old." A small smile. "Let me guess—basketball?"
Ari felt his parents tense slightly beside him. This was the question he'd been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.
But for the first time in his life, when someone asked if he played basketball, Ari answered clearly and confidently: "Yes."
"Excellent! We have a strong program here. Very competitive, but rewarding. The draft tryouts are tomorrow, actually, if you're interested. Though given you just arrived, you might want to wait until—"
"I'll be there."
Mr. Masaki's eyebrows rose slightly. "Tomorrow? You're sure? That's... well, that's quite immediate."
"I'm sure."
[YOU SUCK AT IT THOUGH]
The system's comment flashed in Ari's vision, but he ignored it. Mr. Masaki looked like he wanted to say something—probably something cautionary about the tryout's difficulty or the wisdom of jumping in so quickly—but instead he just nodded.
"Alright then. Best of luck. Coach Hosei runs a.... difficult program, but if you're serious about basketball, you'll learn a lot." He finalized a few more documents, then stood. "That's everything from my end. Now we just need to get you to your dormitory and sorted. Let me call our student assistant."
He picked up his phone, dialed, spoke briefly. "Five minutes," he said, hanging up.
They waited in slightly awkward silence, Ari's parents taking in the office's decor while Mr. Masaki organized paperwork. Ari stared at a trophy case on the wall—Yoshimura's academic achievements.
A girl walked in, and Ari recognized her immediately.
Elaine de Vries.
He'd seen her among Yoshimuras page—one of Yoshimura's visible students, with a few thousand followers and posts that made the school look like a fashion shoot location. But seeing her in person was different.
She wasn't Japanese—that was immediately obvious. Her hair was blonde with a darker hue, currently tied in a neat bun at the base of her neck. Her face was striking—you'd get lost in the curves and the contrast. Large spaces eyes. Slightly reddish healthy glossy skin. High modelesque hollow cheekbones. Thin Cupid lips. She was just... Pretty.
She wore the Yoshimura, like she'd been given a style guide and then improved on it. Dark blue jacket over a white shirt, the school's distinctive red-striped tie loosened just enough to look casual without being sloppy. Black skirt, perfectly fitted. She was so classy Ari couldn't even look at her indecently if he tried. His eyes wouldn't dare.
She wore beautiful gay socks that matched the overall aesthetic. Everything coordinated. Like eye candy in the most regal way possible. I mean she looked Barbie. Blonde and bright crystal blue eyes.
She was average height—maybe 5'5".
Though at this second she looked like a giant to Ari
The kind of presence that made you just know she was used to being listened to, admired and just worshipped.
Her expression, however, was not pleased. Not hostile, exactly, but definitely annoyed. Like she'd been pulled from something more important to babysit some unserious first-year with cat eyes and too much black clothing.
"Mr. Masaki." Her Japanese was more articulate than Ari's. She said the name in a calm and controlled way. Her voice had a natural breathyness to it.
"Ah, Elaine. Thank you for coming." Mr. Masaki gestured to Ari and his parents. "This is Toru Ari. He is a first-year student. Late arrival due to medical circumstances. Could you help him get settled? Dormitory assignment, campus tour, the usual orientation?"
Elaine's eyes flicked to Ari, taking him in with a single comprehensive glance that felt more like an assessment than a greeting. Tall. Too tall. Black clothes. Awkward posture despite the height. Clearly uncomfortable. With his parents, which meant he was probably attached to them. New. Late. Unprepared.
She'd catalogued all of this in approximately three milliseconds, Ari was sure.
"Of course," she answered, her tone though said it was very much not "of course" but she would do it anyway because that was her job as student assistant.
She turned to Ari's parents, her expression warming slightly—not much, but noticeably. "Mr. and Mrs. Toru. I'm Elaine de Vries, third-year student assistant. I'll make sure your son gets settled properly."
"Thank you so much," Ari's mother said, bowing. "We really appreciate your help."
"It's my responsibility." Elaine returned the bow with practiced precision.
'Ugh...I feel like I'm being babysitted'. Ari thought inside.
Then she looked at Ari again, her expression cooling back to its default state of mild annoyance. "Toru Ari."
"Yes. Hi. Hello." Ari felt his face heating. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ari. Well, you know that. You just said it. So. Yes."
[YOU NEED TO WORK ON YOUR COMMUNICATION SKILLS]
Elaine's expression didn't change—still that neutral, slightly annoyed look. Ari bet she didn't even bother to listen to or heard a word of his mumbling introduction.
"Let's get you to your dormitory. Your parents can help with luggage until we reach student-only areas."
Mr. Masaki smiled his calm, professional smile. "Excellent. Toru-san, everything is in order. Welcome to Yoshimura.
"
They walked out of the administrative building, Elaine was leading at a maximum efficiency pace. She knew where she was going and she definitely wished she was already there.
Ari's parents followed, carrying most of his luggage despite his protests. Ari brought up the rear, feeling conspicuous and awkward.
"Ari," his mother whispered, nudging him. "She's very pretty."
"Mom."
"What? She is! And she seems capable. A bit cold, maybe, but—"
"Can we not do this right now?"
His mother giggled quietly, which only made Ari's embarrassment worse.
Elaine led them across the central campus, past buildings that Ari couldn't properly appreciate because he was too busy trying not to look as out-of-place as he felt. Students were everywhere now—between classes, apparently—and many of them looked at their procession with open curiosity.
Or more specifically, they looked at Elaine with admiration and respect, then at the tall emo in all black walking behind her with his parents like a lost child, and their expressions shifted to something between amusement and pity.
[THEY THINK YOU ARE HELPLESS]
The first-year wing was a massive building—four stories of dormitories, apparently, with separate sections for boys and girls. The architecture matched the rest of campus: elegant, traditional French countryside style, all tall windows and steep roofs.
Soft
They reached the entrance, and Elaine stopped, turning to Ari's parents. "This is where I need to take over. Student-only areas beyond this point. You can say your goodbyes here."
And there it was. The moment Ari had been dreading.
His mother's eyes immediately filled with tears. "Already?"
"University protocol," Elaine said, not unkindly. "For student safety and privacy."
Ari looked at his parents—his mother already crying, his father maintaining composure but with that tell-tale tightness around his eyes—and felt his own throat constrict.
"Mom, don't cry. You're going to make me—"
"I know, I know, I promised I wouldn't." But the tears were falling anyway. She pulled him into a hug, or tried to—his height made it awkward, so she ended up hugging his torso while he bent down. "Call me. Every day. Or text. Just let me know you're alive and eating properly."
"I will. Promise."
His father was next. The hug was brief, masculine, but Ari felt his father's hands shake slightly. "Remember what I said. About knowing who you are. Don't let this place change that."
"I won't, Dad."
"And Ari?" His father pulled back, meeting his eyes—cat-like intensity meeting cat-like intensity. "Make the team."
Not "try to make the team." Not "do your best." Make it.
"I will."
His mother hugged him again, whispering things about clean socks and studying hard and making friends and being safe. His father clasped his shoulder once more. Then they were walking away, his mother looking back every few steps, his father's arm around her shoulders.
Ari watched them disappear around a building, feeling like something vital had been cut loose.
Mr Masaki spoke, cutting the solemn silence like he'd done it a million times before. " Alright Toru Ari, Elaine will handle getting you settled. You're in good hands."
The voice snapped Ari back to the moment. And he cleaned his eye and followed Elaine who was already outside.
[YOUR BAGS]
Ari jerked, turning back, grabbed his remaining bags and hurried after her. Elaine set a pace that suggested she had better places to be—not quite running, but definitely not accommodating his longer stride either. All her movements were all driven with the sole purpose of getting this over with.
They entered the first-year wing properly now, through doors that required a student ID to access. The interior was as impressive as the exterior—polished hardwood floors, high ceilings with exposed beams, large windows that let in natural light. The walls were painted in warm neutrals, with bulletin boards every few meters covered in club announcements and event posters.
Elaine didn't give him a tour so much as navigate through it, occasionally glancing at a file she'd been given—presumably his student information. She made turns without hesitation, climbed stairs without slowing, all while Ari struggled to keep up with his luggage and increasingly burning thighs.
Students were everywhere, moving between rooms or lounging in common areas. Many of them looked at their procession with interest—or more accurately, looked at Elaine with recognition, then at the tall first-year struggling with too many bags behind her, and their expressions shifted to something that was almost irritation.
"Your dormitory is on the third floor," Elaine said without turning around. "East wing. Single room."
"Okay."
"Obey the dorm rules. It's all in the guidebook".
They reached the third floor—Ari's legs were screaming now, from training and the stairs. Elaine led him down a hallway lined with identical doors. She stopped at one marked "East 347."
"This is yours." She pulled out a key from the file, handed it to him. "You'll need to get your student ID from the administrative office tomorrow for electronic access. Until then, physical key."
Ari unlocked the door, pushed it open.
The room was...
[MEH]
It was far from 'meh.' Ari was expecting a standard room but with all he'd seen then offcourse this was an average room in Yoshimura high. What he found was a room that looked like it belonged in a boutique hotel. The walls were a pale cream, carved with European style motifs. The corners were trimmed with elegant molding that framed the soft amber glow of wall sconces.
A large queen-sized bed stood against the far wall, layered with crisp sheets, a navy throw, and two oversized pillows that were dangerously enticing Ari to jump on them and sleep his life away. He was exhausted.
To the right, a sliding frosted glass door led to his own bathroom. His Own bathroom.
"The common room is on the first floor. The laundry is in the basement. The cafeteria opens at 6:30 AM and closes at 8 PM. Your meal plan is unlimited access."
She reminded him. " Again. Read the dorm rules in the guidebook".
"Your classroom." She was already walking away.
Ari dropped his bags in his new room and followed. Again.
They descended back to the first floor and exited into the main campus. The building Elaine led him to was only a few minutes walk—massive, modern compared to some of the older structures, with large glass windows and multiple floors.
"First-year academic building," Elaine said, entering through automatic doors. "You'll find your schedule in your student guidebook....page 67. Your homeroom is on the second floor."
She was practically a robot of ultimate efficiency.
Up more stairs. Down a hallway. Past students who were clearly between classes, clustering in groups, talking and laughing with the easy familiarity of people who'd already been here for two weeks.
Elaine stopped outside a classroom door. "This is your class. 1-C."
Ari looked through the door's window. The classroom was empty—students were probably at lunch or in other periods. Desks arranged in neat rows, a blackboard at the front, windows along one side. Standard. Normal. Intimidating because it represented everything he'd missed, everyone who'd already formed their social circles.
Elaine suddenly pulled out a small notepad and pen from her jacket pocket. She wrote quickly, her handwriting was an attractive cursive." The textbooks you'll need to get started ".
She tore off the page and handed it to him. "Get them from the bookstore."
She did a few more things—showed him where the staff room was, where the library was located on the map, pointed out the cafeteria's location. All of it delivered with the same professional efficiency.
Finally, she pulled out his guidebook from her other pocket. "Your complete schedule is on page 89. Classes, homeroom, everything."
She remembered that too. The exact page number.
"Thank you," Ari said. "Really. For all this. I know it's probably annoying to have to—"
"Don't mention it", She cut him off, firm as hell.
"Classes are still going on. The choice to attend the night classes or not, all yours".
She turned walking away. He could practically see the relief in her shoulders.
...
.....
[TRYOUTS]
[STOP SPACING OUT]
"Ah, I totally forgot." Ari shouted," Wait!"
Elaine stopped. Turned back. Her expression shifted from professionally neutral to openly annoyed. "What is it?"
"The basketball tryouts. Tomorrow. How do I—where do I register?"
She was quiet for a moment. Her eyes moved over him in a single comprehensive assessment—starting from his face, down his lanky near two meter frame, the way he carried himself was that he wasn't carrying himself. Awkward with no hard muscle mass whatsoever.
He could see her calculation: Tall. Obviously tall enough that people probably asked if he played basketball constantly. But built like he'd never survive 5 minutes in a gym. Slender to the point of looking fragile, but still had a fitness to him. New student....Two weeks behind everyone else. Probably had some fantasy about making the team based purely on whatever skill he thought would be enough.
"The Pavilion," she said finally. "You register at the Pavilion."
Silence
"The... Pavilion?"
Ari saw her jaw tighten, he caught wind if her muttering something under her breath. Maybe french or Dutch. Something along those lines.
[DUTCH]
She extended her hand, said one word: "Guidebook."
He quickly handed it over. She flipped through it with ruthless efficiency—knowing exactly where to look—and then held it up, pointing to a specific section.
"That's the Pavilion. The Main athletics complex. There's no time limit—you can register tomorrow morning if you want."
She tossed the book back to him. He caught it clumsily.
"Thank you. Really. I appreciate—"
She was already turning away again.
But then she stopped. Just stood there for a moment, back to him, like she was having an internal debate. Then she let out a tired sigh.
"Don't bother."
Ari blinked. "What?"
She turned around slowly. Her face was composed, calm, but her eyes held something that looked almost like pity. "Don't bother joining the basketball team."
The words hit like cold water. Her voice was flat, matter-of-fact, like she was delivering an objective truth rather than advice.
[DID SHE JUST—]
[WHO DOES THIS—]
[THE AUDACITY—]
"You'll get crushed." She said it simply. No malice. No emotion. "Two hundred students trying out. Most have been playing since elementary school. Many are already scouted. The team is nationally ranked—Get out of your delusion and save all of us the sight."
She looked at him again, and this time the pity was clearer. " It's easier if you just stay away from basketball." Her voice taking on that advisory tone people used when they thought they were being helpful.
[_____THIS LITTLE______WHY I'D____]
She held his gaze for a moment longer—calm, certain, like she'd given this speech before. And like it was a blessing to the ones that she shave.
Then she turned and walked away. No goodbye. No encouragement. Just left him standing in the empty hallway with her words hanging in the air like a verdict. A fucking verdict?!
Ari stood there, watching her retreating stupid perfect hourglass figure disappear around a corner. Other students passed by, glancing at him curiously—the tall first-year in all black just standing motionless in the middle of the hallway.
His grip tightened on the guidebook in his hands...hard enough to wrinkle the hard cover. The edges dug into his palms, it tore slightly under his massive hands. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together with enough force that his molars ached. Ari was enraged. His face was in an expression that looked straight out of a horror slasher.
He thought about his stats—mediocre at best. About his two weeks of brutal training that had taken him from "hopeless" to merely "maybe".
He thought about being two weeks behind everyone else.
He thought about his parents driving home, believing in him. About Mr. Masaki's surprised but accepting nod when he'd said he'd try out. About the system that had given him a chance when he'd had none.
The system however didn't send any message. It was quiet. The same way it usually was when he was with mom and dad. But now, it was almost expecting something.
But for Ari, something was building in his chest—Pure. An almost terrifying anticipation. Ohh, he couldn't wait. He wanted to basketball. You could feel the anger and excitement oozing out of him.
He'd never been good at comebacks. Never knew what to say in the moment when someone dismissed him or doubted him. He wasn't a talker. He'd never been a talker..
His teeth ground together one more time. Then his jaw relaxed. His grip on the guidebook loosened.
"I'll show her," he whispered to the empty hallway, in a voice the system had never heard before. He turned away to make his way to the Pvilion , "I'll show all of them",
[INDEED]
[YOU WILL]
Ari looked down at the guidebook in his hands, torn slightly from his grip. He kept a finger buried in the Pavilion's page. Then he started walking.
Tomorrow were the draft try outs. And he ...was tired as hell.