Chapter 1:
Professor Takamichi Takahata raised his coffee mug to his lips. Before he threw back a sip of the bitter black drink, Takamichi wafted the wonderful smell of the caffeinated latte. Just as the taste reached his tongue, Shizuna, the school nurse, caught sight of his indulgence.
"Professor Takahata," she smiled. "This is your fourth cup of coffee today, isn't it?" Takamichi glanced at Shizuna, and then back at his cup.
"Maybe," he said, "I've been hitting the caffeine a little too hard lately." Shizuna rested her delicately shaped hands on his shoulders, caressing the tight muscles in his back.
"Are you nervous," she asked, "because he's coming today?" Takamichi hung his head in grief.
"I just hope he doesn't cause trouble for himself," he murmured. "Did you double-check to see if he had a room in the faculty dorm? I haven't had the chance lately." Shizuna nodded, slowing the pressure she put on Takamichi's muscles as his massage session came slowly to an end. "You have magic hands," Takamichi grinned. Suddenly, a strong wind whipped through the faculty office. Takamichi and Shizuna rushed to weigh down the loose papers on Takamichi's desk. They both knew: Nagi Springfield had just arrived.
"Hey, Takamichi!!" Nagi shouted. "Takamichiiiiii!!" Takamichi sighed as he watched from his third-story office his old friend waving his arms like an idiot. Nagi of all people had decided to drop by, unfortunately for Takamichi. "Takamichi! Are you ignoring me?" Nagi asked, waving his staff in the air.
"Not at all," Takamichi replied, waving in return. "Come inside. I'll meet you in the lobby." As Takamichi turned to meet his junior-high friend, Shizuna reassuringly patted his shoulder.
"Don't be too rough on him," she advised. Takamichi smiled.
"Don't worry," he informed her. "He won't be much trouble after he speaks with Dean Konoe."
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Nagi ran through the sliding doors, a big grin spread across his face. Takamichi offered his hand in greeting, only to receive a high-five instead of a hand shake.
"You haven't changed much," Takamichi muttered. As Nagi shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder, Takamichi cringed. Nagi was actually planning to stay longer than he had thought.
"Enough about me," he grinned. "What about you? I'm surprised those kids of yours haven't driven you into the ground yet." Takamichi shook his head. "That's a surprise to me," Nagi murmured. "If I were teacher, I would have turned most of them into little animals by now."
"Nagi," Takamichi mumbled. His friend hadn't changed at all since he last saw him. Being a little shorter than six foot, Nagi only rose to Takamichi's shoulder. His Japanese wasn't great, but he could speak English perfectly. His red hair often caused him trouble, but Nagi had the skills to talk his way out of a punishment. To top it all off, Nagi was a skilled wizard. He had recently acquired the title of "The Thousand Master," but his teachers didn't think he deserved such a fancy parting gift. He barely passed the magic academy classes, and still, he was blessed with a name meaning he had mastered one thousand spells.
"How's Old Man Konoe?" Nagi asked. "And Shizuna? I can't wait to see them both again." Takamichi smiled.
"They're all well," he replied. "The Dean has even offered you a place to stay if you haven't already made arrangements. But, you will be sleeping in a faculty dorm, so try to behave yourself." Nagi stood at attention and gave Takamichi a mock-salute.
"Yes, sir!" he grinned.
Takamichi led Nagi through the vast halls of the Mahora Academy. In each class room the excited squeals of girls echoed, bouncing off the walls. Nagi listened intently to the conversations held in each room. One class was squealing about the cute boys each girl had seen or gone out with during summer vacation. Another group was raving about the newest fashions in Harajuku. Nagi arched his eyebrow in confusion.
"Since when was Mahora Academy an all-girls' school?" he asked. "Where did all the male students go?"
Takamichi closed the door to a class that was growing especially loud.
"They're on a different side of the Mahora campus," he explained as Nagi pressed his face against the window of the door Takamichi had just closed.
"That's your classroom, isn't it, Takamichi," Nagi grinned. "You've got lots of cute students in there." Takamichi gasped as Nagi slid the door wide open and walked right inside like it was no big deal.
"Nagi!" Takamichi hissed, chasing after his friend. "Nagi, come on out." Too late. Nagi had set his luggage beside Takamichi's desk, and he pounded his fists to get the class' attention. Immediately, the girls fell silent, and they all stared at Nagi's broad smile plastered on his face.
"Look at his hair," one student whispered. "Is he foreign?" As more whispers began to arouse from the girls' lips, the class representative, a girl named Akira Maro, rose form her seat in the front row, and she began to address the class.
"Ladies, I'm shocked!" she exclaimed. "This man is a guest in our classroom. As the representative of the middle school second-year class, group C, it's my job to keep our reputation as courteous, well-mannered, and welcoming to strangers of our class." She turned to Nagi, and she bowed deeply. "Forgive them, sir," she said smoothly, "and me for showing you a side that you shouldn't have, not as an honored guest of Professor Takahata's." Nagi cleared his throat.
"Um, yes," he stammered. "Th-thank you all." Akira thoughtfully stroked her chin.
His Japanese is terrible, she thought. I wonder if he really is a foreigner.
"Um, you there," Nagi said, pointing to a girl sitting in the very back row of seats. "What's your name?" The girl rose slowly from her assigned seat, her hands trembling in nervousness. As she bowed in greeting, her long, dark brown hair fell across her back and in front of her dark blue eyes, hiding her flushing cheeks.
"S-Sakurako Seishi," she replied quietly. "Student number 17." Nagi's cheeks began to flush as well, and he bowed in return.
"Really," he said, "no need to be embarrassed, Miss Seishi." He straightened himself, and he smiled at Sakurako. "My name is Nagi Springfield. I'm a friend of Professor Takahata." He strode down the aisle proudly, and he stopped at Sakurako's feet. Bowing, he gently grasped her hand, and he planted a soft kiss upon her knuckles.
Immediately, Sakurako's face burned bright red, and she hid her eyes behind her bangs. She stepped backward to graciously refuse Nagi's gesture; instead, she tripped over her own feet, sending Nagi and herself down to the floor.
Nagi cringed as he rubbed his sore temple, but, having seen Sakurako's worried face, he smiled and began to laugh. "Are you alright, my lady?" he asked.
"I'm sorry!" Sakurako cried. "Really, I am!" Nagi pretended that his head didn't hurt as much as it actually did, reassuring Sakurako that he was okay.
"Alright, Nagi," Takamichi said, clapping his hands to get the class' attention, "time for you to go." The class burst into a clamor of whines and begging to let Nagi stay. "Settle down, girls," Takamichi grinned. "Maybe Nagi will visit another time. He still has yet to unpack his things." Nagi sighed, and he looked back at Sakurako.
"I'll be fine," he reassured her. "I just want to be sure that you're okay." He reached into his pocket, muttering softly under his breath. When he stopped talking, Nagi produced a single red rose from his coat pocket. "For you, Miss Seishi," he grinned. He spun on his heel, and he followed Takamichi out of the classroom, dragging his luggage the whole way.
Once Nagi had left, Sakurako fell back into her seat. She clutched the rose to her chest, taking in its sweet scent.
Nagi Springfield, she thought, thank you.
Akira stomped down the aisle, her eyes boring holes into Sakurako's head.
"Sakurako, give me that rose!" she demanded. Sakurako fiercely shook her head.
"No," she answered. "Mr. Springfield gave it to me. You're just jealous, Akira, because you didn't get what you wanted." With that, Sakurako tucked the flower away in her notebook, and Akira returned to her seat as Takamichi returned to teach the day's lesson.
Sakurako, you lucky bitch, Akira thought, glaring back at the quiet girl.
