Matriculation

“You two are transfer students?”

The balding man in the school’s faculty office looked like he was from another century, even if his voice didn’t have the characteristic frailty of old age. It was a Saturday, but the school was still full. I had never noticed it before, but the North kept Saturday as a full school day. The man didn’t seem pleased to be here ANY day of the week, though.

“A-Yes. We are from-a Hokkaido.”

It occurred to me far too late that I had no idea what a Hokkaido accent sounded like, so I had to make one up on the spot. If Hokkaido was to the far north of Tokyo and Osaka was to the far south, then it stood to reason a Hokkaido accent would have been the opposite of a Kansai accent- or at least, that was why my tired brain put together. I tried to slur all the parts an Osakan would say straight and say straight all the parts an Osakan would slur. Hiroki could barely contain his laughter, even with the potential danger we were in.

“Is that so? Well, I don’t have any transfer paperwork saying two students from Hokkaido were transferring in today.”

“Oh. It must have been delayed in the post office. We are supposed to start today.”

The old man narrowed his eyes.

“What are your names?”

Crap. Didn’t think of a name. I had spent so much time on the infiltration plan that I hadn’t given any thought to our cover.

“I’m Shinji Taniguchi.”

Hiroki pulled that one out fast- but he still swapped his last name in for the fake first name. Evidently, he hadn’t given it much thought either.

“I’m Ichiro Shelley.”

Well, that was probably the wrong one to use.

“What the hell kind of name is Shelley? And what’s with that ridiculous accent?”

Right. Using an English name was bad form here. Time to make something up.

“Oh. I’m from a small town in Hokkaido. We have names like that, and we all speak like this.”

“Which town?”

“Oh- it’s a little town in the mountains called Pizuparu.”

Shit. That was a line from an old movie. I hoped the old man didn’t have a secret love for American cinema.

“I’ve never heard of a town called ‘Pizuparu’. Where is it?”

“Um– a few hundred kilometers from Sapporo?”

The old man studied my face for a few seconds.

“Well, I suppose after a while you get so hick that it wraps around and makes you sound like an urbanite making fun of people from the country. So, the post office didn’t get your packets through?”

“Uh…yes. I don’t think- I mean…”

The old man leaned back in his desk chair with a heavy sigh.

“Typical.”

“We could- we could fill out the forms again, if-”

“No need.”

The bald man was just as blunt as Ayasa.

“You two- you’re second years, or first years?”

“First.” said Hiroki.

“Second.” I said, at the same time.

“Oh. You looked the same age. Maybe I’m just getting too old.”

The old man grumbled a little more as he pulled up a class register.

“Let’s see…Comrade Taniguchi, you go in class…1-B. Comrade…Shelley… you go in class 2-D. I’ll fill out the rest when your packets get in.”

He reached over the desk to grab an antique-looking microphone. It fit in with the rest of the decor of the faculty office- everything in it looked like a prop out of a movie from the 70s- or maybe 80s, at best.

“Comrade Okazaki. Please come to the front office.”

He turned back to us.

“I’ll have Okazaki in class 2-B show you around. She’s the treasurer for the student soviet. Keep it short and don’t cause her any trouble- she’s already behind on classwork. Once you know your way around, don’t go peeking around. The situation outside is very tense and I don’t want to have to deal with more incidents.”

“Uh…got it.”

“Oh, and don’t cause a fuss about transferring in. I don’t want any more rumors flying around among the students.”

“Yes sir!”

Hiroki chuckled a bit. The old man just glared at my boot-camp response.

“Respect your upperclassman, Comrade Taniguchi.”

“You asked for me, Comrade-Sensei Tsuda?”

There was a girl’s voice at the door. A girl I knew.

“Ah, Comrade Okazaki. These two students have just transferred in. Comrade Taniguchi in class 1-B and Comrade…Shelley… here in class 2-D. Please give them an abbreviated tour of the school and then get back to class.”

The face of Ayasa Higashiyama stood blank for a few seconds. Then, a polite smile in our direction.

“Of course, Comrade-Sensei.”

It was Ayasa. There wasn’t any doubt about it. Her appearance was back to the way It had been when I watched her in the window for so many days. She wore the olive-green sailor uniform of the school, well kept, and kept her posture rigid and alert. The only exception was her hair- she had cut it into a short bob and eliminated any hint of the wave that had defined Sayu Midorikawa’s style. In many ways, she looked like all the other Northern girls now.

“So, you two have just transferred in today?”

Ayasa engaged us as we followed her out of the faculty office. Once I was sure the old man was out of earshot, I dropped the pretense.

“It’s us, Ayasa.”

“Hmm? Have we met before?”

Her tone of voice was without guile, but her eyes told a different story. There was a look of- concern? Fear? Irritation? I wasn’t sure what, but it was enough to make me sure that she was just playing dumb.

“I’m here to-”

“Join the Young Hideyoshi Academy? Well, we have a reputation as an elite school. Where did you say you were from, again?

“I- you know where I’m from, Ayasa!”

Hiroki bit his lip. Maybe he was trying to figure out what was going on, or maybe he was just trying to stifle laughter again.

“I’m sorry, Comrade…Shelley, was it? I’ve never met anyone with a name like that.”

We were sure we were out of earshot of anyone who might be listening, but Ayasa didn’t budge.

“Comrade…Okazaki? Is that correct? I’m just here with my friend from Hokkaido. We wanted to transfer into this school for its…academics- or maybe, sports?”

Hiroki was playing along now, too. He must have realized quicker than I did that Ayasa wasn’t going to acknowledge us for who we were.

“Really, Comrade Taniguchi? That’s so wonderful. I hear Hokkaido is very beautiful this time of year. Oh, but please, no need for formalities. You can call me Ayasa.”

For some reason, I was getting really annoyed again.

“You can stop the charade, Ayasa, we-”

Ayasa rolled her eyes to the side twice. It was a signal. I couldn’t see what she was referring to, but the message was clear: “Stop. Now.”

“Ah, Shinji- this is classroom 1-B. I’m afraid I don’t have time to give you the full tour, but the science lab is on the opposite end of the second floor and the gym is that building out across the courtyard.”

Ayasa gestured up at the sign. It was familiar enough. Hiroki shrugged and moved toward the classroom door.

“Tonight. Roof.”

Those two words were all Hiroki left me with as for our next meeting place.

I followed Ayasa back down the hallway and up the stairs. Neither of us said anything until we were on the second floor. I finally broke the silence.

“Um, Ayasa?”

“Yes, Ichiro?”

“Is there a place we could- talk privately?”

Ayasa turned away from me, but didn’t continue walking.

“Oh. I’m afraid I’m a bit too busy. Maybe some other time.”

It was one of those standard non-committal responses, the ones that always meant “No, never again.”

Ayasa showed me to Class 2-D, at the very end of the hallway. It was only two classes away from hers, but the distance may as well have been thousands of kilometers.

“This is your class, Comrade Shelley. I have to go now, but I’ll be around the school if you have any questions for me.”

Translation: stay away.

Ayasa walked back to class 2-B, sliding the door open quietly. The direct approach wouldn’t work any more, but why? There must have been something I had missed. I had to find some other way to get to her.

“Are you coming in?”

There was another girl at the door to my classroom, inspecting me. All her other features seemed to be a blur centered around her piercing slate-green eyes.

Ah yes, there was another way. Ayasa had friends here, after all.