In May 1988, Tokyo's air held the dry heat of early summer.
The heavy wrought-iron gates of Seika Academy's high school division opened quietly, the sound covered by birdsong. A black Nissan President drove over the damp asphalt and stopped at the circular drive.
Fujita opened the door.
A polished black loafer touched the ground.
Satsuki stepped out and smoothed her blazer. She wore the same dark-blue uniform, but the ribbon at the collar was now deep emerald, indicating high school status. She looked up at the old red-brick building.
Unlike middle school, Seika High was co-educational. Family alliances required both sons and daughters to attend together. The male students were few and all from prominent families, but their presence changed the atmosphere.
"Young Mistress, I will wait at the usual location after school," Fujita said with a slight bow.
"Understood," Satsuki replied.
She took the steps.
The hallway was noisy. It was one month into the term, but for these heirs and heiresses, the novelty remained.
When Satsuki appeared in the doorway of Class 1-A, the room became quiet for a moment.
Every student looked at her.
The top-ranked student who had missed the opening ceremony and a month of classes had finally arrived.
She smiled appropriately and nodded at familiar faces. She walked directly to the empty seat by the window in the back row.
Someone was already seated beside it.
Suzuki Emi sat at the adjacent desk reading a thick English edition of The C++ Programming Language. She wore new silver-wire glasses and a neat bob cut. Her uniform was subtly tailored. The factory girl who used to be reserved was no longer visible. She now projected the image of a quiet, technical specialist.
That composure broke when she saw Satsuki.
"Good morning, Satsuki-chan." Emi set the book down, speaking louder than necessary for the room. She would have embraced her if Fujita Tsuyoshi were not present.
"Good morning, Amy." Satsuki reached her desk and returned the smile.
The desk was clean. Someone had been maintaining it.
"Even though I expected it, this level of attention is significant," Emi said, resting her chin in her hand as she watched Satsuki hang her bag, pull out her chair, and sit with measured movements.
"This is only the beginning," Satsuki said quietly, for Emi alone. "How was the jet lag?"
"Manageable. I stayed up organizing the Cisco data." Emi removed two thick notebooks from her bag and placed them on Satsuki's desk. "And these are photocopies of notes from the other class. You missed a month, but I reviewed the material. You will have no difficulty catching up."
Before she finished, a strong perfume became noticeable.
It was not the restrained, expensive scent preferred by Class A old-money families. This was citrus and tuberose — conspicuous and inappropriate for the environment.
"Saionji-san! You are finally here!"
A high voice interrupted.
Satsuki turned.
A girl stood in the aisle. She had permed waves. Her uniform was altered: the waist was fitted and the skirt was two centimeters shorter than regulation. On her wrist was a Cartier bracelet set with full diamonds, reflecting sunlight through the window.
Ezaki Mariko.
Satsuki identified her. Apex Group — modeled on Recruit Co., Ltd. Daughter of the human resources and information services conglomerate that was currently expanding rapidly in Tokyo.
"You are Ezaki-san?" Satsuki smiled. Her expression was gentle.
"Yes, I'm Ezaki Mariko." Mariko nodded quickly, her cheeks reddening. Unlike other girls who maintained polite distance, she stepped closer. The perfume became stronger.
"I have always admired you."
Mariko's voice trembled. It was not performance. It reflected genuine ambition. For nouveau-riche families like the Ezakis, Saionji — old kazoku and business elite — represented the highest social tier.
The classroom became quiet. Students pretended to read while listening.
Their reactions were mixed, primarily disapproval. The economic boom had produced many families like Mariko. Old money found them uncomfortable.
"Admire?" Satsuki blinked. Her smile remained perfect. "Ezaki-san, that is excessive. We are only classmates."
"No, it is not only that," Mariko said.
She removed a small deep-blue velvet box from her pocket.
She presented it with both hands and performed a curtsy that was too precise and formal for a classroom.
"This is a small gift my father acquired in South Africa. It is probably not worthy of you, but please accept it. This represents my desire to join the Rose Society, or to serve you."
The class reacted with a collective intake of breath.
The approach was too direct.
Seika operated on subtlety and "reading the air." This was an open offering of tribute.
Emi looked at the box, then at Satsuki.
The pattern was repeating. Why did nouveau riche families assume diamonds were the method of access?
Satsuki did not accept it immediately.
She looked at the box and recognized the maker's mark. She knew what it contained.
"Ezaki-san," Satsuki said. Her voice remained gentle.
"School rules prohibit valuables. This places me in a difficult position."
Mariko remained in her curtsy. Sweat was visible on her brow. She was aware of the mocking stares but did not withdraw.
"It is not valuable," she said, and opened the box. The click was audible.
Inside, on black velvet, was a pale pink crystal the size of a fingernail. It was uncut.
A pink diamond in rough form.
It had no facets or brilliance. But the raw color was evident in the classroom light.
"This is only a stone," Mariko said, looking up with pleading eyes. "A stone that has not been polished. Like me. If you would accept it…"
Satsuki looked at her.
Greed and ambition to advance were visible.
Mariko did not want to oppose Satsuki. She wanted to align with her. She understood that following the dominant figure provided security.
But she also understood that affiliation was not granted automatically.
"A stone?" Satsuki gave a small laugh.
Mariko's pulse quickened.
Satsuki reached out. Her fingertip touched the rough surface.
It was cold, hard, and gritty.
"If it is only a stone, then acceptable."
She took the box and closed it. The click was soft.
"I accept your sentiment. Thank you, Ezaki-san."
Satsuki looked at Mariko. Her smile became brighter and included encouragement.
"Also, your hairpin is attractive. The color suits you."
Mariko froze, then showed immediate joy.
She accepted it.
"Yes. Thank you, Lady Saionji… I mean, Saionji-san." Mariko bowed, her words rapid, then returned to her seat flushed, as if she had achieved a victory.
The classroom's perception shifted. The method was inelegant, but a connection to Saionji constituted social capital.
"Everyone, please take your seats. The teacher is arriving," Satsuki said, clapping lightly like a class representative to end the scene.
She sat down. She placed the box on her desk in the corner, next to her pencil case.
Emi, who had observed everything, adjusted her glasses and whispered:
"That must be expensive."
Emi did not collect jewelry, but the stone's appearance indicated value.
"Possibly," Satsuki said, removing her textbook without particular interest.
"But for people who want to advance socially, this is the least expensive entry fee."
She opened the book. Her eyes moved to the clock above the blackboard.
The second hand moved.
Apex Group would be central to the coming Recruit Scandal, which would affect Japanese politics and implicate senior officials.
She had been seeking a connection to it.
Now the connection had presented itself voluntarily.
"Here." Satsuki suddenly picked up the velvet box and placed it in Emi's lap.
Emi caught it awkwardly. "For me?"
"Use it as you like," Satsuki said, resting her chin on her hand while watching the camphor leaves outside.
"Or attach it to that new PC case you purchased. A pink power button would be distinctive."
"What? Use this for a switch? That is inappropriate. And too expensive. I cannot."
"Did she not say it is only a stone?" Satsuki turned and winked.
"As long as it is not classified as jewelry, it is a stone. Take it. Thank you for managing the teachers this week."
"But—"
"Take it." Satsuki's voice was light but final.
Emi hesitated, then put it in her pocket. With Satsuki, refusal was ineffective.
The bell rang.
The teacher entered and began attendance.
"Saionji-san?"
"Here," Satsuki said