May 1988. Tokyo air already had that early-summer dry heat.
The heavy wrought-iron gates of Seika Academy's high school division slid open, silent enough that birdsong covered the sound. A black Nissan President glided over damp asphalt and stopped at the circular drive.
Fujita opened the door.
A polished black loafer touched ground.
Satsuki stepped out, smoothing her blazer out of habit. Same dark-blue uniform, but the ribbon at the collar was now deep emerald — high school colors. She looked up at the old red-brick building.
Different from middle school. Seika High was co-ed — family alliances needed both sons and daughters in the same tank. Not many boys, and all from somebody families, but still: testosterone in the air.
"Young Mistress, I'll wait at the usual spot after school," Fujita said, slight bow.
"Mm."
Satsuki acknowledged him and took the steps.
Hallway: loud. A month into term, but for these heirs and heiresses, novelty hadn't worn off.
When Satsuki appeared in the doorway of Class 1-A, the room went vacuum-quiet for a beat.
Every eye on her.
The "grade's top student" who'd skipped opening ceremony and a whole month of class had finally shown up.
Smile in place, proper. She nodded at familiar faces. Walked straight to the empty seat by the window, back row.
Someone was already there.
Suzuki Emi sat in the adjacent desk, buried in a brick of an English edition — The C++ Programming Language. New silver-wire glasses. Bob cut, neat. Uniform tailored subtle-but-precise. The factory girl who used to hunch was gone. In her place: quiet, tech-branch intellect.
That aura cracked the second she saw Satsuki.
"Good morning! Satsuki-chan."
Emi put the book down, too loud for the room. If Fujita Tsuyoshi weren't a teleporting bodyguard, she'd have hugged her.
"Good morning, Amy."
Satsuki reached her desk, smiled back.
Desk: clean. No dust. Someone had been wiping it.
"Even prepared for it, this is the 'center of attention' thing, huh?"
Emi chin-in-hand, watching Satsuki hang her bag, pull out her chair, sit — everything elegant, unhurried.
"Just the start," Satsuki said, soft, only for Emi. "Jet lag okay?"
"Fine. Stayed up organizing that Cisco data."
Emi pulled two thick notebooks from her bag, set them on Satsuki's desk. Confident.
"And these — notes I photocopied from the next class. Month missed, but I skimmed. You'll catch up easy."
Before she finished, perfume hit.
Not the restrained, expensive quiet-scents of Class A old money. This was citrus and tuberose — loud, passionate, wrong for the room.
"Saionji-san! You're finally here!"
High voice cut through.
Satsuki turned.
Girl in the aisle. Permed waves. Uniform… altered. Waist nipped. Skirt two centimeters short of regulation. Cartier bracelet on her wrist — full diamonds, catching sun through the window, throwing sparks.
Ezaki Mariko.
Satsuki placed the name. Apex Group — prototype: Recruit Co., Ltd. Daughter of the HR/information services empire currently tearing up Tokyo.
"You are… Ezaki-san?" Satsuki smiled. Gentle.
"Yes! I'm Ezaki Mariko!"
Mariko nodded, too fast, cheeks pink. Unlike other girls keeping polite distance, she stepped closer. Perfume got stronger.
"I've… I've always admired you!"
Mariko's voice shook. Not performance. Real hunger. For nouveau-riche like the Ezakis, Saionji — old kazoku, business world apex — was the social Everest.
Classroom went quiet-listening. Pretend-reading. Ear-tilting.
Their eyes: mixed. Distaste, mostly. Boom economy minted people like Mariko. Old money found it… uncomfortable.
"Admire?" Satsuki blinked. Smile perfect. "Ezaki-san, that's too much. We're just classmates."
"No! It's not just classmates!"
Mariko moved like she'd rehearsed.
She pulled a small deep-blue velvet box from her pocket.
Both hands. Knees bent slightly. Curtsy — too precise, too formal for a classroom.
"This is… this is a little gift my father brought from South Africa. It's… probably not worthy of you, but please, accept it! This is my wish to join the Rose Society… no, to serve you!"
Class inhaled.
Too direct.
Seika ran on subtlety. "Reading the air." This — this was offering a tribute. Out loud.
Emi looked at the box. Then Satsuki.
History repeats… Why do nouveau riche always think diamonds are the key?
Satsuki didn't take it yet.
Eyes on the box. Recognized the maker's mark. Knew what was inside.
"Ezaki-san."
Satsuki's voice stayed gentle.
"School rules ban valuables. This… puts me in a hard spot."
Mariko stayed curtsied. Sweat on her brow. She felt the mocking stares. Didn't retreat.
"It's not valuable!" She bit down, snapped the box open. Click.
Pale pink crystal, fingernail-sized. Uncut. On black velvet.
Pink diamond rough.
No facets. No fire. But the color — raw, pure — glowed in the classroom light.
"This is just… a stone," Mariko looked up. Eyes pleading. "A stone not polished yet. Like… like me. If you'd take it…"
Satsuki looked at her.
Greed. Ambition to climb. All there.
Mariko didn't want to fight Satsuki. She wanted to be Satsuki's dog. Because she knew: follow the alpha, get territory.
But she also knew: becoming a dog isn't automatic.
"A stone?"
Satsuki gave a small laugh.
Mariko's heart jumped.
Satsuki reached out. Fingertip on the rough.
Cold. Hard. Gritty.
"If it's just a stone, then fine."
She took the box. Closed it. Click. Soft.
"Your feeling — I accept it. Thank you, Ezaki-san."
Satsuki looked at Mariko. Smile brightened. Added encouragement.
"Also, your hairpin is pretty. Color suits you."
Mariko froze. Then joy flooded.
She took it!
"Yes! Thank you, Lady Saionji… no, Saionji-san!"
Mariko bowed, words tripping, then went back to her seat flushed, like she'd won a war.
Classroom eyes: complicated. Tacky, yes. But connection to Saionji? That was capital.
"Alright, everyone, seats. Teacher's coming."
Satsuki clapped, light, like a class rep. Dispersed the scene.
She sat. Put the box on her desk. Corner. Next to pencil case.
Emi, witness to all of it, adjusted glasses. Whispered:
"That… has to be expensive, right?"
Emi didn't do jewelry. But that glow wasn't roadside rock.
"Maybe."
Satsuki pulled out her textbook. Distracted.
"But for people who want to climb, this is the cheapest ticket."
She opened the book. Eyes on the clock above the blackboard.
Second hand ticked.
Apex Group… protagonist of the coming "Recruit Scandal" — the one that would blow up Japanese politics and take down big names.
She'd been looking for an in.
Now the key walked up and bowed.
"Here."
Satsuki suddenly picked up the velvet box. Tossed it into Emi's lap.
Emi fumbled. Caught it. "Huh? For… me?"
"Play with it."
Satsuki chin-on-hand, watching camphor leaves outside.
"Or stick it on that new PC case you bought. Pink power button. Cute."
"Hah?!" Emi nearly dropped it. "Use this for a switch? Sacrilege! And… too expensive. Can't."
"Didn't she say? Just a stone."
Satsuki turned. Winked.
"As long as it's not defined as jewelry, it's a stone. Take it. Thanks for handling teachers this week."
"But…"
"Take it."
Satsuki's voice light. Absolute.
Emi hesitated. Pocketed it. With Satsuki, refusing was pointless.
Bell rang.
Teacher came in. Attendance.
"Saionji-san?"
"Here."
Satsuki stood.