By the time the fourth period ended, a collective sigh swept through the room like the release of a held breath. The chalk squeak of the last equation had faded, and Matsumoto-sensei bowed before stepping out with a reminder to review for the upcoming quiz.
Katsuragi Kokoro stretched slightly in his chair, then opened his school bag. From inside, he carefully lifted a neatly wrapped bento box, the cloth folded with his mother's characteristic care. His lips tugged into a small, private smile.
Unwrapping it, he found the same warm attention to detail: perfect rice molded into soft mounds, tamagoyaki sliced just right, grilled salmon with crisp edges, and the telltale flower-cut radish garnish. Beneath the lid, a small folded note sat tucked beneath the chopsticks.
> "Do your best today. I'm cheering for you! Love, Mom – Eniko"
Thanks, Mom, he thought, quietly touched.
He snapped a quick photo and sent it to his little sister.
> Kokoro: "Mom's bento looks professional again."
Yui: "Ugh. Mine's just rice and pickled plums. So unfair."
Kokoro: "Want to trade?"
Yui: "Too late. I already cried while eating."
He chuckled quietly and started eating as the classroom began to hum with life.
Some students slid their desks together into little clusters, opening convenience store sandwiches or homemade lunches. Others grabbed their wallets and filed out toward the cafeteria, chatting about hidden lunch spots around the school.
"I heard there's a bench outside where the wind always blows cool," someone said.
"I'm going to the courtyard behind the gym. No teachers go there."
"Let's try and find the legendary vending machine of sweet melon bread right here on these floor."
Kokoro glanced around while chewing. Most students had already formed natural groups. A few were even playing online games together, holding their phones vertically and tapping rapidly.
Just like middle school, he thought. Already groups are forming, and I'm not part of any of them… But instead of letting the old loneliness sink in, he shook his head. It's just the first day. Maybe later, I'll get the chance to talk to someone.
Near the middle of the classroom, Watanabe Mika gently closed her textbook and stood up, her bento box held gracefully in both hands. A few nearby girls turned to her eagerly.
"Mika-san, want to eat with us under the sakura trees? There's a shaded spot nearby!"
"Yeah, we saved space!"
Mika smiled gently but shook her head. "I appreciate the offer… but I have a prior engagement. My aunt insisted."
"Aunt?"
"She's the principal."
The girls blinked in surprise as Mika gave a small bow and stepped past them. Her quiet grace lingered in the space she left behind.
"She's eating with the principal?" someone murmured.
"Wait, her aunt is the principal of the academy?!"
"Talk about connections…"
Mika walked out of the classroom and through the hall with poise. Teachers and upperclassmen greeted her in passing, none surprised by her presence. Her destination was the fifth floor—off-limits to first-years, except, it seemed, for her.
She stopped at the door labeled Principal's Office and knocked twice.
"It's open, Mika-chan!" came a warm, inviting voice.
Inside stood Watanabe Ayaka, the young and lively principal of Sakura High. Her hair was tied in a loose bun, and she wore a dark plum suit with a flowy scarf, giving her both authority and flair.
Ayaka rushed over and pulled her niece into a soft hug. "You made it! Honestly, waiting through four periods without a Mika sighting should be a crime."
"You saw me two days ago," Mika replied softly.
"That was two days too long."
They sat together at a small round table set by the wide window. Ayaka had a lacquered bento box ready, and Mika placed hers beside it. The two quietly began eating as the sakura petals danced on the other side of the glass.
---
Back in Class 1-A…
"Behold!" declared Sayori Kojima, suddenly standing at the top of her chair, one foot on her desk like a general preparing a charge. "I shall bestow upon you the honor of sharing lunch with a max-level being such as myself!"
Three girls, all seated nearby and halfway through opening their boxed lunches, looked up at her with blinking eyes.
"…Eh?" one of them murmured.
"I said," Sayori huffed, putting her hands on her hips, "I'll eat with you peasants! Feel free to be grateful!"
There was a moment of pause.
Then one girl giggled. "She's kinda like a spoiled cat."
"She's adorable," another added. "It's like a child trying to make friends."
"W-Who are you calling a child?! I am eighteen in MMO years!"
Sayori climbed down and scooted her chair over, pulling her lunchbox from a satchel with colorful pins and gaming merch. "Move over. The party leader's here."
On the sidelines, a group of boys sulked in envy.
"No fair… those girls get to eat with her?"
"She's like… the perfect combination of cute and confident."
"I want to be recruited into her party…"
Sayori happily chewed on a rice ball shaped like a slime monster, then pulled out a portable game console. "Alright, after we eat, we're farming materials. No exceptions."
The three girls exchanged confused glances but smiled anyway.
---
Elsewhere in the room, Hanabusa Mei nibbled on a sandwich while flipping pages in Tales of Genji. Kubo Haruki placed three separate containers and a thermos with almost surgical precision.
"This pickled daikon was fermented for exactly 13 hours," he noted. "Smells strong, but the flavor's subtle."
"Dude," muttered Fujimoto Riku, who was lounging while watching a rhythm game MV, "no one asked."
Across the room, Nakajima Rei slouched like he might slide under his desk.
"Rei! Come eat with us near the gym. Found a great spot!" a friend called from the hall.
"Too far," Rei mumbled. "I'm not a mountain goat."
Kokoro watched the soft chaos unfold, feeling oddly content. He still didn't quite fit anywhere yet—but for the first time in a long while, that felt okay. His mother's warm bento in hand, the sound of chatter around him, and the scent of springtime filling the air…
The school courtyard buzzed with life as lunch break rolled in. Beneath the sweeping canopy of sakura trees, students scattered across benches and grassy spots, chatting, chewing, and chasing sunlight.
On the far side of the courtyard, beneath one particular tree with petals falling like soft rain, Ishida Nao and Tanaka Fumika had laid out a pastel picnic mat, their lunches nestled in decorated bento boxes.
"These look so cute together!" Nao said, clapping her hands as she admired their little spread—sandwiches shaped like stars, rolled omelets, and pink mochi wrapped in wax paper.
"I made those strawberry mochi this morning," Fumika said with a quiet smile, offering one to Nao. "Don't forget to eat them before they melt."
Nao took a dramatic bite and squealed, "Sweetness! You're an angel. If Candy Prism ever retires, I'm making you my new idol."
Fumika giggled. "Only if I can sing backup from the kitchen."
Not far off, near a stone bench closer to the gym, Kenta Yamaguchi was huddled with two other boys—his longtime buddies, equally obsessed with internet clout.
"Okay, okay, hear me out," Kenta whispered dramatically, phone in hand. "We get a cardboard box, right? We cut out eye holes. Then we sneak into the faculty hallway and pretend we're a delivery."
"You mean like… Metal Gear Solid style?" one of the boys, a tall guy with spiky red hair named Murata Genji, asked, eyes gleaming.
"Exactly!" Kenta grinned. "But with dramatic background music and a twist—we actually deliver snacks to the teachers!"
The third friend, a sleepy-eyed dude named Ogawa Minoru, shook his head while holding a rice ball in his mouth. "I swear if we get detention on the first day, my mom's gonna send me to monk school."
"Bro, detention equals exposure," Kenta replied confidently. "Viral moment waiting to happen!"
The three burst out laughing, drawing a few amused stares from other students.
At one point, Genji tripped on a tree root while miming the box sneak, crashing into Minoru and nearly sending their rice balls flying. A chorus of "Whoaaaa!" and "You good?!" followed as they collapsed into a laughing heap on the grass.
Back under their tree, Nao and Fumika looked over.
"Boys," Nao muttered with a shake of her head.
"They're kind of funny, though," Fumika said, biting into her egg sandwich with a soft chuckle.
Nao smiled, nodding. "Yeah… the good kind of loud."
As the bell neared and students began packing up, petals continued to drift quietly from the trees, like the day had just started telling its story.