Inside a classroom at Jujutsu High.
Sunlight slanted through the windows, spreading a warm golden layer over the desks. Dust drifted slowly through the light, like countless tiny, motionless stars. Birds chirped outside. Shoko was alone in the empty classroom.
She sat by the window, her elbow on the desk and her chin resting in her palm, gazing at the sky outside. Her other hand traced unconscious circles on the desktop, her fingertip turning slowly over the wood grain, once, then again, and again.
Why wasn't Zhiyan back yet?
Shoko's finger slowed as it traced circles on the desk.
Maybe the mission site was too remote to get a signal. That was what she told herself. But the tension inside her still tightened, little by little.
Outside, the sky was blue, the clouds were white, and everything was fine. She drew a deep breath and was about to look away when someone yanked the classroom door open.
Bang!
The door slammed against the wall with a tremendous crash, making the entire wall tremble slightly. Dust showered from the doorframe and scattered in the sunlight. Shoko jolted, her finger lifting from the desk. She quickly turned toward the doorway.
Two people stood there in dark uniforms, tall and imposing, their expressions cold and stern.
Behind them stood an old man. He wore a dark kimono beneath a black haori. His hair was graying, his face gaunt, with high cheekbones and deeply sunken eyes. His whole face resembled a crumpled sheet of paper. His back was slightly stooped, but he stood firmly, both hands resting on a dark brown cane.
Shoko recognized none of the three.
Her body tensed slightly. Without drawing attention, she moved her hand from the desktop to her knee, then slowly slipped it into her pocket.
The three