The bus doors folded open with a pneumatic sigh, and Kyoto air rushed in — cool, faintly earthy, different from Tokyo in a way I couldn't immediately name.
"Alright, Group Three! Stay together!" one of the teachers called out.
Group Three.
That would be us.
Kenta was the first off the bus, stretching like he'd just conquered something. "Yo, this place is huge," he muttered, staring at the stone walls rising above the moat.
"It's literally a shogun's residence," Mori replied, adjusting his glasses. "It's supposed to be intimidating."
Ahead of us stood, pale stone walls rising above a broad moat, dark wooden buildings visible past the gates. The water reflected the sky and the trees around it.
It felt... solid, like it's been standing there forever and wasn't going anywhere.
Suzuki stepped down from the bus right behind me.
"Don't drift off," she said immediately, like she'd been waiting to say it. "We're not babysitting you if you get lost."
"I wasn't planning to," I replied flatly.
"Good."
Seriously, have a little faith in me. I could've chosen not to come, yet I'm still here.
Yamashita descended more carefully, smoothing her skirt once her shoes hit the pavement. She glanced up at the gate and let out a soft breath. "It's… beautiful."
The word came out almost reverently.
Kenta snorted. "You say that about everything historical."
"Because everything historical is beautiful," she replied with a small, patient smile.
Yeah. I'm sure the victims of famines and genocides would agree.
Slavery always had a different form, masters a different chain.
As in heaven, as on Earth, we've been dead since our birth.
Mori tilted his head toward the entrance. "We should line up. They're doing ticket checks."
Teachers began herding us forward. The gravel crunched under our shoes as we crossed the bridge over the moat. The water below was still, thick green, like it had secrets.
Just like me.
Suzuki walked slightly ahead of me. She was close enough that if I sped up half a step, our shoulders would brush.
She slowed just enough so that didn't happen.
Kenta leaned closer to me. "Bro, imagine living here. No parents. Just samurai guards."
"You'd get executed in a week," Mori told him, ignoring me.
"For what?"
"For being loud."
"I'd probably get kicked out for rapping to the old stones like they're my audience...," I muttered.
Kenta's jaw dropped. "Wait… you'd actually do that?"
I shrugged, leaning against the railing, eyes scanning the wooden beams and sliding doors. "Yeah. It's performance art. Respect the classics."
Mori rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Classics aren't supposed to have swear words, genius."
I facepalmed.
"Bro thinks rap is all about street flex and cuss words," I said incredulously.
Kenta snorted, elbowing me. "Man, that's literally your style! Admit it."
I gave him a deadpan look. "My style is subtle nihilism. Not yelling at history like it owes me rent."
Mori groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Subtle nihilism… right. That'll really impress the samurai ghosts."
Suzuki, a few steps ahead, glanced back, eyebrow raised. "You're all ridiculous. Just… don't make a scene. Some of us actually want to look at the castle."
Yamashita's voice followed softly, almost shyly. "Shiba-kun… maybe just… take it in quietly for a bit? The details are beautiful, really."
...Why am I the one getting singled out?
I looked at her, half sigh, half smirk. "Fine, Prez. I'll behave… for a little while."
She didn't answer. Her fingers brushed against my hand, briefly, slowly, before she retracted her hand.
There was a blush on her face, but for once, the quiet, reserved Yamashita... stuck her tongue out at me.
I blinked.
Kenta, completely oblivious, was already wandering toward the entrance. "Yo, check this out!" he called, pointing at the massive wooden gate. "This thing looks like it could crush a tank!"
Mori muttered, more to himself than anyone else, "You'd get flattened if you ran into it at full speed."
Suzuki was already marching ahead like a drill sergeant. "Stay close. I don't want to spend the next hour dragging you clowns through a history lecture."
I leaned against the railing for a second, taking in the moat and the walls. The water was still, thick and green, reflecting the trees like they were floating. It was serene, but heavy.
You could feel the weight of everything that had happened here—the shoguns, the guards, the betrayals that went down behind these gates.
We stepped inside, the gravel crunching under our shoes. Sliding doors, lacquered wood, carved beams—everything smelled faintly of polish and history.
Yamashita lingered behind me, glancing up at the ceilings and then at the tiny details on the walls. "The carvings… look at the precision. It's incredible."
Incredible. For Japanese standards, sure.
I'd still like to see Rome. Paris.
If I ever make it big enough to move to America, I'll probably end up touring Europe anyway.
No point rushing it.
I only saw Tokyo and Kyoto recently.
Spent most of my life locked in Matsumoto.
So, yeah. Patience.
My attention drifted to my own headspace, and before I knew it, our visit was over. The tour guide's voice echoed one last time through the wooden corridors, explaining something about Tokugawa authority and power displays.
Whatever.
The "nightingale floors" chirped faintly under our shoes as we shuffled toward the exit. Even Mori went quiet.
Outside, the light shifted. The moat reflected a paler sky.
Kenta stretched dramatically. "Okay, that was actually kinda cool."
"'Kinda'?" Yamashita repeated gently. "It was an important political center for over two centuries."
"Yeah, yeah. Samurai vibes. I get it."
Suzuki adjusted the strap of her bag, glancing back at the massive wooden gates.
"It's strange," she said. "All that power… and now it's just tourists."
Mori scoffed lightly. "That's what happens to every regime eventually."
"Yeah," I muttered, mostly to myself. "Empires don't disappear. They just change uniforms."
Mori glanced sideways at me.
I kept my eyes on the stone walls.
"Once upon a time, Japan was the one pushing into China and Korea," I added, voice low, almost lazy. "Now it just hosts American bases and calls it an alliance."
No one responded immediately.
Suzuki's fingers tightened slightly around her bag strap.
Yamashita shifted her weight, thoughtful rather than offended. "History isn't that simple," she said gently. "Power relationships evolve."
"Sure," I replied. "That's one word for it."
Kenta scratched the back of his head. "Bro… can we not start a geopolitical debate before lunch?"
That earned a small huff from Suzuki.
"Honestly," she said, regaining her lighter tone, "leave geopolitics to people who actually read the textbook, Shiba-kun."
I shrugged, tilting my head ever so slightly.
"You know academic ability doesn't automatically translate to intelligence, right?" I said calmly.
"Besides, if the Japanese school system tried to crush me… I don't owe it anything."
Mori stopped walking for half a step. "That's just what people say when they don't try."
I looked at him then.
"You think I didn't try?"
The question hung there, thin as paper.
Suzuki clicked her tongue softly. "Enough," she said, not sharp, but firm. "This is a field trip. Not a courtroom."
Kenta raised both hands like he was surrendering. "Yeah, yeah. Save the revolution for after we eat."
Yamashita stepped a little closer to me — not obvious, but intentional.
"The system isn't perfect," she said gently. "But it's not your enemy either."
I exhaled through my nose.
"Maybe not yours."
It's funny.
You grow up being told to love your country. To be proud of it.
Until it starts treating you like a failure.
For me, it always felt like Japan was punishing me just for being born.
But… whatever.
Ahead, a teacher waved. "Group Three! Bus is ready!"
The spell broke.
Suzuki brushed past me as we climbed onto the bus. "Try not to start a diplomatic incident at the next temple," she muttered.
"No promises," I replied.
The bus hummed along the way, leaving
Nijo Castle exactly the same as when we arrived. I only glanced back once.
The climb to Kiyomizu-dera was worse than the castle.
Steep stone steps. Crowds everywhere. Vendors yelling about matcha sweets like it was a battlefield strategy.
Kenta was already out of breath. "Bro… why is this temple on a mountain?"
"So invaders die tired," Mori muttered.
At the top, the main hall opened up in front of us — massive wooden stage stretching out over the hillside.
The city spread below, rooftops layered into the distance. For a second, even Kenta shut up.
Suzuki stepped closer to the railing. "It's… actually insane," she admitted quietly.
Yamashita folded her hands together, eyes shining. "They built this without nails," she whispered, like that mattered deeply.
I leaned against one of the pillars, watching tourists take photos like they were collecting proof they'd existed.
"So this is the famous spot people used to jump from," Kenta said.
"Edo-period survival rate was surprisingly high," Mori replied automatically.
"Why do you know that?"
"Because I read."
We moved toward the inner grounds, following the crowd flow.
A small wooden board near a side shrine, inked neatly in Japanese and English.
Love fortune.
Below it—
Two stones. Set apart in the courtyard gravel, about eighteen meters from each other. Worn smooth. Almost unimpressive, if you didn't know what they meant.
Kenta leaned forward immediately. "Ohhh. It's this thing."
Mori adjusted his glasses. "Jishu Shrine. If you walk from one stone to the other with your eyes closed, your romantic wish comes true."
He paused for a bit.
"You have to make it without help, though" Yamashita added softly, reading the rest of the sign. "If someone guides you, it means you'll need luck in love. Or help."
Suzuki stopped walking.
Yamashita blinked.
And just like that, the air shifted. And I couldn't stop the dread I felt anymore.
"Alright," Kenta grinned, rubbing his palms together. "Who's going first?"
Suzuki scoffed. "It's superstition."
She stepped forward anyway.
Of course she did.
Yamashita clasped her hands together politely. "I'll… watch."
The rules were simple. Close your eyes. Walk from one stone to the other. If you reach it without help, your love will come true.
Suzuki stood at the first stone, back straight, jaw set.
"I don't need this," she muttered.
"Then don't do it," I said.
She shot me a look over her shoulder. "Shut up."
She closed her eyes.
The courtyard suddenly felt quieter.
She took a step. Confident.
Another.
Gravel crunched under her shoes.
Third step — slightly angled.
Fourth — someone coughed nearby.
Fifth —
"Left," Kenta blurted automatically.
Suzuki's eyes snapped open.
She froze.
For a second she looked genuinely irritated — not at him. At herself.
"That doesn't count," Mori said dryly.
"I know," she replied quickly.
Too quickly.
She turned back to the stone like she was annoyed at the rock for existing.
"Whatever. It's crowded. Obviously that affects trajectory."
"Trajectory?" I echoed.
She ignored me and walked back without trying again.
Yamashita hesitated.
"You don't have to," I said.
She smiled softly. "I want to."
She stepped up to the first stone.
Closed her eyes.
Her posture was different.
Whereas Suzuki was defiant and stubborn, Yamashita was careful.
First step — slow.
Second — slower.
Someone's sleeve brushed hers and she flinched.
Third step — slightly off-center.
She corrected herself instinctively.
Fourth—
A little girl ran past.
Yamashita's foot faltered.
She stopped, opening her eyes...
Only to realize she was about a meter off to the right.
Not even close.
"Oh," she said quietly.
Not devastated.
Just… small.
Kenta scratched his head. "That was actually kinda hard."
Mori shrugged. "Told you it's stupid."
Suzuki crossed her arms. "It's literally about spatial awareness."
Yamashita laughed gently, brushing her skirt smooth. "I suppose… maybe I need guidance."
Her eyes flicked — just for a second — in my direction.
Then away.
The air shifted slightly.
Kenta turned to me with a grin.
"Your turn, Shiba."
I rolled my shoulders once.
"Yeah, sure..." I muttered. "Why not."
Up close, it looked… ordinary. Just rock. Smooth from years of hopeful hands.
I placed one foot forward, toes brushing the edge of the stone, then I closed my eyes.
The air felt different without sight. Wider.
I didn't rush.
I took one step, then some more. By the fourth step, the slope dipped slightly downward. I adjusted half a degree.
By the fifth, I felt the urge to check. I didn't.
Somewhere behind me, Kenta muttered, "Bro's actually serious."
Seventh.
I kept walking.
Step after step, until—
My palm met something cool and solid.
Stone.
I opened my eyes.
The second rock sat directly in front of me, my hand resting flat against it.
For a second, nobody spoke.
Then Kenta exploded. "NO WAY."
Mori's mouth parted slightly before he caught himself.
Suzuki's arms slowly unfolded.
Yamashita blinked once.
Twice.
I looked down at my hand, then back at them.
"…Huh."
I stepped off the stone like it had nothing to do with me.
"Guess I'm used to walking in the dark," I shrugged.
Suzuki exhaled through her nose, almost a laugh. "Don't get cocky."
Yamashita's smile was softer than before.
Mori clicked his tongue. "Lucky."
"I don't know," I shrugged lightly. "Looks like fate's throwing me a bone. Should I go 'woof woof' like a good dog?"
There was half a second of silence—
Then Kenta folded in on himself.
"BRO—" he wheezed, clutching his stomach. "That's insane."
Even Mori cracked. A sharp laugh slipped out before he could stop it. "You're actually ridiculous," he muttered, but he was still grinning.
I smirked faintly. "What? If destiny wants to treat me like a stray, I should at least commit to the bit."
Kenta wiped at his eyes dramatically. "Nah, nah, Shiba barking at a shrine is wild. Kyoto's not ready."
The boys were still laughing.
The girls weren't.
Suzuki's expression hadn't changed much — calm, composed — but her eyes gave away the most subtle hint of sadness.
Yamashita's smile faded into something quieter. Thoughtful. Like she heard something underneath the joke.
We stepped away from the stones, folding back into the stream of tourists and students.
The rest of the day slipped by without much incident.
After Kiyomizu-dera, we were given a small window of free time before regrouping for dinner. Kenta immediately went hunting for snacks. Mori stuck close to the historical streets like he was fact-checking the architecture in real time.
Suzuki and Yamashita drifted toward a sweets shop together.
And me? I just went off.
The streets downhill were packed with souvenir shops and boutiques. I ducked into a clothing store out of boredom.
Nothing here was really my style.
I was about to leave when I noticed her.
Inazuki Mika.
The class gyaru herself.
Cropped tee. High-waisted jeans. Chunky sneakers. Hair in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling across her cheek like they'd been styled that way on purpose.
She was standing in front of a full-length mirror near the changing rooms, holding a charcoal-gray oversized bomber jacket against her torso.
I approached carefully, hands in my pockets.
"Sup, Inazuki?"
She turned around so fast the jacket nearly slipped from her grip.
"Shiba-kun?!" Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "You scared me!"
"Didn't think I was that stealthy."
"You're not," she shot back, pressing a hand to her chest. "You just appear places like an NPC with a dramatic soundtrack."
I think that reaction was more dramatic than my appearance could ever be, but I kept that thought to myself.
"I—um—I didn't expect to see you here," she said, cheeks faintly pink. "I mean, obviously we're on the same trip, but… I thought you'd be with the guys or something."
I shrugged, lifting one shoulder.
"I needed air."
She nodded like I'd just delivered a life philosophy.
"Right. Yeah. Air. Good idea."
She lifted the bomber jacket a little higher, almost hiding behind it.
"What do you think? Is it oo much? I was thinking it might look cool with the jeans I brought, but now I'm second-guessing…"
I took a brief look at the jacket.
"Nah," I said quietly. "It's good. Suits you."
I took a brief look at the jacket.
"Nah," I said quietly. "It's good. Suits you."
Her smile turned shy in a way I didn't see at school.
"Thanks," she said, hugging the jacket to herself for a second. "Umm… you're not buying anything, Shiba-kun?"
"Nah. Nothing here really suits my style," I shrugged, glancing around at the neatly curated racks. "Too… restrained."
She huffed a small laugh. "Wow. Listen to you."
"What?"
"Nothing." She turned toward the mirror again, holding the bomber up one last time.
She studied her reflection, then nodded to herself like she'd just finalized a contract. "Okay. I'm getting it."
Of course she was.
We made our way out after she bought the jacket.
Outside, the late afternoon light had softened. The street was still busy, but quieter than before.
"So," she said, adjusting the bag against her hip. "Back to the group?"
"Yeah."
"Same."
We started walking downhill together, keeping an easy pace.
At the next intersection, she slowed.
"My ryokan's that way," she said, pointing lightly.
She shifted the bag in her hands.
"See you around, Shiba-kun."
"Yeah. See you around."
As she turned to leave, she glanced back once and lifted her hand in a small wave.
I raised mine in return.
Then she disappeared into the crowd, charcoal-gray bag swinging lightly at her side.
Before long, I ran into Suzuki and Yamashita near the stone steps leading back toward the main road. If they'd seen me with Inazuki earlier, they didn't show it.
"Oi, Shiba-kun," Suzuki said, elbowing me lightly. "Where did you disappear to?"
I shrugged. "Just walking around."
"Alone?" she pressed, eyebrow lifting.
"I'm capable of that, yeah."
She clicked her tongue. "Unbelievable."
Yamashita stepped in gently, hands clasped in front of her bag. "We were a little worried," she admitted softly. "You weren't answering messages."
"I had it on silent."
Suzuki exhaled through her nose. "Of course you did."
There was a pause — not tense, just settling.
"Anyway," Suzuki said, adjusting her strap. "We're heading back. Try not to wander off again."
"Yes, ma'am."
She shot me a look. Yamashita tried — and failed — to hide a small smile.
We fell into step naturally after that.
Three shadows stretching long across the Kyoto pavement, heading back toward the ryokan together.
And I thought, maybe, just maybe, the school trip wasn't that bad.