The cafeteria of High School was loud and crowded during tiffin time, as always. The long, narrow hall smelled of steamed rice, miso soup, fried fish, and the faint, sweet tang of strawberry milk from the vending machines at the end of the aisle. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh white glare that made the students faces look pale and tired. Trays clattered together, chopsticks clicked, and the constant chatter of voices filled the air — girls laughing about weekend plans, boys boasting about yesterday's baseball game, the smell of instant coffee and cheap perfume mixing together.
