She Bowed 90 Degrees and Hit the Desk with Her Forehead

My name is Amamiya Hibiki, and up until that April morning, my life was as ordinary as a plain rice ball from the corner konbini. Second year of high school in a quiet Tokyo suburb—nothing fancy, just the usual grind of classes, club activities (I'm in the going-home club, thank you very much), and avoiding eye contact with the class idol, Kisaragi Miu, who somehow always ends up glaring at me like I stole her last Pocky stick.

That day started like any other. The cherry blossoms were just starting to peek out, turning the school path into a pink carpet that crunched under my sneakers. I yawned, rubbing my eyes from staying up too late binge-watching that new anime about a guy who gets isekai'd into a world of talking cats. "Man, if only something exciting happened in real life," I muttered to myself, kicking a stray petal off the sidewalk.

Little did I know, the universe was about to drop a bombshell—or should I say, a blonde bombshell—right into my lap.

I slid into the classroom just as the bell rang, dodging a paper airplane from my best friend, Tanaka Daiki. He's the kind of guy who thinks everything's a meme waiting to happen. "Yo, Hibiki! You look like you fought a boss battle last night and lost. Let me guess—another all-nighter watching that cat anime?"

"Shut up, Daiki," I grumbled, slumping into my seat by the window. "It's got deep lore, okay? Unlike your obsession with those idol gacha games."

He leaned over from the desk behind me, grinning like an idiot. "Hey, at least my waifus talk back. Yours just meow. Anyway, heard we got a new transfer student today. The Teachers were whispering about it in the staff room. Some foreigner or something."

"A transfer? In April?" I raised an eyebrow. Our school wasn't exactly international. The most exotic thing we had was one kid from Osaka who pronounced 'sushi' funny.

Before Daiki could reply, the door slid open with a dramatic whoosh, and in walked Aoyama-sensei, our homeroom teacher. She's in her thirties, always looks half-asleep, but somehow manages to push through every class. "Good morning, everyone! Settle down, settle down. We have a special announcement today."

The class hushed up, a mix of curiosity and boredom rippling through the room. Sensei adjusted her glasses and smiled mysteriously. "As some of you might have heard, we're welcoming a new student to Class 2-A. She's an exchange student from Sweden, here for a full year. Please give a warm welcome to Freja Lindström!"

The door opened again, and in walked... well, let's just say the room went dead silent. Freja Lindström was tall—like, taller than most of the guys in class, including me. Her hair was this long, platinum blonde wave that cascaded down her back like something out of a shampoo commercial, tied in a loose side braid. Ice-blue eyes scanned the room politely, and she was wearing our school uniform, but it looked... different on her. More elegant, somehow. Like she'd stepped out of a fairy tale and into our dingy classroom.

"Wow," Daiki whispered behind me. "She's like a real-life elf princess. Hibiki, your seat's next to the empty one. Lucky bastard."

I shot him a glare, but my heart was already doing that weird flip-flop thing. Not that I was interested or anything. Nope. Totally normal reaction to seeing someone who looked like they belonged on a magazine cover.

Freja stood at the front, holding her bag tightly. She cleared her throat, her voice soft but clear, with a slight accent that made her Japanese sound almost musical. "Hajimemashite. Watashi wa Freja Lindström desu. Sweden kara kimashita. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu."

And then she bowed. Deep. Like, 90 degrees deep, the kind you see in old samurai movies. Her braid swung forward, and—*thunk!*—her forehead smacked right into the edge of the teacher's desk.

The class erupted. Gasps, giggles, a few outright laughs. Kisaragi Miu covered her mouth, her eyes wide. Daiki was biting his fist to keep from howling. Even Sensei looked stunned for a second before rushing over. "Lindström-san! Are you okay? That was quite the... enthusiastic bow!"

Freja straightened up slowly, rubbing her forehead with a wince. A small red mark was already forming, but she managed a polite smile. "Hai, daijoubu desu. In Sweden, we do not bow like this. I practiced many times, but... perhaps too much power."

The class lost it again, but this time it was more good-natured. Sensei chuckled nervously. "Well, that's the spirit! Everyone, make sure to help Lindström-san adjust to life here. Amamiya-kun, since the seat next to you is empty, she'll be sitting there. And, uh, maybe you can show her around? You're reliable like that."

Me? Reliable? I felt my face heat up as all eyes turned my way. "E-Eh? Me, Sensei?"

"Yes, you! Don't be shy. Lindström-san, please take your seat."

Freja nodded gracefully—without bowing this time—and walked over. Her steps were long and confident, like she was used to striding across snowy fields or something. She slid into the desk next to mine, her bag thumping softly on the floor. Up close, she smelled faintly of something fresh, like pine trees or winter air. Not that I was sniffing or anything. Totally accidental.

"Amamiya-kun, desu ne?" she said, turning to me with those piercing blue eyes. Her voice was formal, like she'd learned Japanese from a textbook. "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu. Please teach me many things about Japan."

I swallowed hard, my brain short-circuiting. "Uh, yeah. Sure. I'm Hibiki. Nice to meet you, Lindström... san?"

"Freja is fine. In Sweden, we use first names quickly." She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds. My heart did that flip again. What was wrong with me? It was just a smile.

Class started, but I could barely focus on Sensei's ramble about the new semester schedule. Freja was scribbling notes diligently, her pen moving in neat, precise strokes. Every so often, she'd tilt her head at something—probably some cultural thing—and mutter to herself in Swedish. It sounded like "Vad är det här?" or something. Cute. Wait, no. Not cute. Just... foreign.

Daiki poked me from behind during a lull. "Dude, she's staring at your notebook. Say something!"

I glanced over. Sure enough, Freja was peering at my doodle of a cat from last night's anime. "Ano... Hibiki? What is this animal? It looks like a... neko?"

"Yeah, it's a cat. From an anime I watched." I scratched my head, feeling awkward. "Do you like cats?"

She brightened. "Hai! In Sweden, we have many cats. But this one has big eyes. Very kawaii."

Kawaii? Coming from her, it sounded extra... something. The bell rang for break, and before I knew it, a crowd formed around her desk. The Three Girls Squad—our class's gossip central—were firing questions like machine guns.

"Where in Sweden are you from?"

"Do you eat meatballs every day?"

"Is it true everyone there is blonde and tall?"

Freja answered patiently, her formal Japanese making her sound like a polite robot. "I am from Uppsala. Meatballs are for special days. And not everyone is blonde—my brother has brown hair."

The guys were whispering in the back, rating her out of ten like idiots. Kisaragi Miu shot them a death glare, which shut them up quick. Me? I just sat there, pretending to organize my pencils, but really wondering why Sensei picked me as her guide. I'm not exactly Mr. Tour Guide material.

Then Freja turned to me again, ignoring the crowd a bit. "Hibiki, what is 'konbini'? I hear it many times. Is it a magic shop?"

The class snickered. I felt a pang of sympathy—she was trying so hard. "No, it's like a convenience store. They sell snacks, drinks, everything. Want me to show you after school?"

Her eyes lit up. "Hai! That would be wonderful. Tack så mycket—ah, arigatou gozaimasu!"

And just like that, my ordinary life cracked open. Little did I know, this was the start of something way bigger than a forehead bump. But as the next class started, with Freja sneaking glances my way, I couldn't shake the feeling that my peaceful days were numbered.