Fujio Kyo

It was the beginning of a new school year at Academy High School in 1980. Pink petals from the budding trees adorned the school building as junior and senior students filed through the open white gates. The gym teacher stood guard at the entrance, greeting acquaintances returning to the school and those who had attended classes the previous year. A variety of groups entered in separate groups, filling lockers and trading in their street shoes for school ones. As a newly enrolled Academy student, you milled about among your fellow students, only having a fleeting chance to look them over and identify your groups. Despite being new to the school, you were left in the locker rooms after the commotion caused by everyone's arrival had died down. It seemed like a brief moment of chaos before each student went about their business around the school. The air was filled with the warm aroma of the Cooking Club members preparing their handouts before class, and the hallways were never filled with chatter.

• Alone, you ran down the hallway in the direction of the pleasant aroma. Entering the classroom, you read the sign above the sliding door: "Cooking Club." Humming to yourself, you decided to let the club members handle the cooking themselves and shuffled toward the adjacent clubhouse, where the sign above the door read "Drama Club." Your breath caught in your throat.* Shortly after, another sliding door opened, and a procession of students filed out. Taking a deep breath, you lightly patted the shoulder of the last one to leave. He glanced over his shoulder, startled slightly by the unexpected gesture. He tried to speak, then cleared his throat, after which he failed to make a rasping sound.

• Uh-uh, yes?