015. I was just... overthinking it.

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While Xiangzi’s father was still busy with work, at Tsukinomori Academy, classes were still in session. Mutsuki Wakaba stared at the empty seat that Nagumo Uzuki had occupied, then glanced over at Toyokawa Shoko’s. Shoko... had disappeared. Uzuki... had disappeared as well. Both of them had vanished. She recalled that both had been present at the start of the previous class, yet now neither could be found. What was stranger was that at the beginning of class, Nagumo Uzuki had been sitting right beside her. Although he occasionally seemed distracted, there was no sign he had spoken to Shoko. So, had they known each other beforehand? Or had they suddenly become familiar within just one class? She couldn’t make sense of it. Tilting her head in thought for a moment, Mutsuki Wakaba finally decided not to dwell on it further, lowering her head to continue reading.

——————

At the same time, Nagumo Uzuki was half-supported by Toyokawa Shoko as they walked toward the administrative office. Honestly, this position made him feel a little awkward. With his current state, he looked like a convalescing patient being helped along. The two of them walked in silence, the atmosphere peculiarly uneasy. Feeling the need to break the silence, Uzuki casually pointed to a promotional poster inside the school building and remarked, “Our school has quite a few bands.” Shoko looked at the posters as well and nodded. “Yes. Band culture has been popular at Tsukinomori for many years, initially influenced by several senior students. It eventually became a trend.” She added, “Every year, many freshmen get inspired by their seniors and start forming their own bands.” “Not just at Tsukinomori, but neighboring girls’ schools as well — some students even form cross-school bands.” “Is that so,” Uzuki mused thoughtfully. The band culture in Japanese girls’ schools had indeed developed into a tradition. Suddenly, Shoko hesitated, slightly tilting her head to look at him. “Actually... I’ve always wanted to start a band myself.” “But I just haven’t been able to make up my mind.” Just as Uzuki was about to respond, they arrived at the administrative office door. Uzuki reached out and knocked gently. There was no answer. He tried pushing the door, only to find it firmly locked. “No one’s here.” He turned to Shoko. “The door’s locked. Looks like we can’t get the textbooks this period.” Shoko tried the handle as well and nodded. “Alright then, I guess we’ll have to come back during the next break.” She glanced at the time. “If I remember correctly, the next class is math.” Uzuki gave a brief acknowledgment. Shoko tilted her head slightly, eyes on him. “I’m pretty good at math. If you need, I can lend you my textbook.” “Uh... no, thanks.”

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Nagumo Uzuki shook his head. Having studied under the University of Tokyo’s system, the difficulty of Japanese math was child’s play to him. But he didn’t say this outright, merely smiling vaguely. “Don’t worry, I’m okay with math.” Shoko looked at him earnestly. “Math can be tough, though. If you ever have questions, feel free to ask me.” Seeing her serious and confident expression, Uzuki thought she was quite endearing and casually replied, “Alright.” Just then, the class dismissal bell chimed promptly. Uzuki turned toward Shoko, stretched his legs, and said, “Okay, I feel pretty much recovered now. I can walk on my own.” Saying this, he finally freed his hand from Shoko’s arm and stepped back, creating some distance. Shoko moved a little closer, lowering her gaze to the bandaged injury, as if making sure he wasn’t pushing himself too hard. “Are you sure you’re alright?” “Absolutely,” Uzuki nodded earnestly. “Thank you for your help.” Shoko was momentarily taken aback, then apologized, “I should be the one apologizing. I misunderstood you earlier and you ended up getting hurt...” “I just... overthought it.” Uzuki naturally knew what she meant by “overthought,” but pretended ignorance and smiled, “You really are a kind person, Shoko.” He barely managed to keep a straight face after saying that. At this moment, facing the proud and noble Toyokawa Shoko, it was a compliment. But a year later, after all the trials she would face, this phrase would turn into the ultimate sarcastic remark. For now, Shoko didn’t seem to read into it. She smiled brightly and extended her hand. “Then let’s officially introduce ourselves. I’m Toyokawa Shoko.” Uzuki raised an eyebrow, reaching out to shake. “Nagumo Uzuki.” Her hand was unexpectedly soft, smooth as fine jade, radiating a gentle warmth that made him want to linger in the touch. But before he could savor it further, Shoko withdrew her hand with her usual graceful poise. They exchanged no more words and walked back to the classroom one after the other. It was break time, and the classroom buzzed with chatter, students gathering in small groups, oblivious to the two returning. Only Mutsuki Wakaba, sitting at the back, glanced up the moment they entered. Her gaze landed on Nagumo Uzuki and Toyokawa Shoko. Uzuki’s expression remained unchanged, pretending not to notice her stare as he calmly returned to his seat and pulled out his chair. Settling down, he casually twirled his pen and turned his head toward Mutsuki. She had already lowered her head back to reading. “Have you been reading all break?” Uzuki asked. Mutsuki kept her head down. “I can’t water the plants.” Uzuki nodded. “I see.” Because the break was too short, she couldn’t run to the school greenhouse to water the cucumbers she was growing and then return in time.

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Only before school, at lunchtime, or after classes were over did she have enough time to tend her plants. She was recognized at school as someone who exuded an almost invisible presence, combined with her habit of speaking little and in somewhat disjointed or cryptic ways, so no one took the initiative to talk to her. Apart from Toyokawa Shoko, who had known her since childhood, Mutsuki had almost no social interactions at school. If it weren’t for Uzuki transferring in today, she might have gone the entire day speaking only a handful of words. Uzuki pondered for a moment, then pulled his chair over to Mutsuki’s desk and sat down decisively. She looked surprised, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, as if wanting to say something but only managing a few unintelligible sounds. Uzuki wore a matter-of-course expression and said, “I went to the admin office just now, but it was closed. I still haven’t gotten my new textbooks. I’ll have to keep borrowing yours next class.” Mutsuki paused, holding his gaze for a moment without asking further, then silently shifted over to make space for him to see the math textbook contents. At that moment, the crisp class bell rang. The classroom noise instantly subsided as the math teacher entered, holding a stack of handouts and teaching aids. She looked severe, with neat short hair, and swept her gaze across the room as she began, “Turn to page 48.” Uzuki adjusted his posture slightly and focused on the textbook. Following her directive, the classroom filled with the rustling sound of pages turning. No one dared slack off. Uzuki glanced around, confirming his earlier suspicion: this teacher was usually very strict, as the room was deathly quiet. Even those who might normally sneak in little distractions had stowed away their books and toys, putting on a serious listening face. Of course, there were genuinely attentive students, such as Mutsuki sitting beside him, marking notes carefully. Uzuki’s gaze lingered on her briefly before shifting to Toyokawa Shoko in the front rows. She sat upright, eyes fixed on the blackboard, hands folded neatly on the desk, fully attentive. Yet Uzuki, skilled and bold, continued to drift mentally. It wasn’t that he disliked studying, but he had expected a world centered on bands, only to realize it was a world of dragons, filled with many half-breeds. No one could focus under such circumstances. From Mutsuki’s golden eyes to Shoko’s “Don’t die” aura, this class had at least two half-breeds, both appearing quite ordinary. Shouldn’t high-level half-breeds be raised from childhood under strict family control? Why did this generation seem deliberately hidden? Could it be that the parenting style pioneered by Lu Mingfei had become a trend among half-breed parents, all preferring this method? He recalled information about the Toyokawa Group: Toyokawa Kiyosuke, Toyokawa Group’s son-in-law, and Shoko’s father. In the future, Kiyosuke would be expelled from the family for certain reasons, ostensibly due to a 16.8 billion yen investment loss. 16.8 billion yen was astronomical, but for a conglomerate like Toyokawa Group, it wouldn’t be crippling. If it were just an economic issue, Kiyosuke wouldn’t have fallen so low. There had to be deeper reasons behind it. Uzuki’s gaze settled on Toyokawa Shoko in front. At this moment, she was still the proud eldest daughter of the Toyokawa family, confident and noble, enjoying the world’s finest resources, utterly unaware of the family’s looming upheaval. Did she know what secrets lay behind her family? Uzuki pondered silently, then nonchalantly flipped a page in his textbook and leaned closer to Mutsuki.