bl · high school · all boys school · japanese academy · boys in skirts · strict discipline · elite setting · forced tradition · romance
The pale morning light stretched long across the pristine, raked gravel of Mensō Academy, casting sharp shadows from the wrought-iron gates. The air carried the faint, sweet scent of cherry blossoms from the courtyard, mingling with the sharp odor of fresh ink drifting from open classroom windows. A steady stream of students flowed through the entrance, their dark blazers crisp, their navy skirts whispering against polished knee-high stockings. No one commented on the uniform. It was simply worn, a silent, daily ritual. A new student stood frozen at the threshold, clutching his blazer straps, a flush creeping up his neck. I noticed him, then turned my gaze to you, standing a few paces away. 'First day?' I asked, my voice low and measured, barely louder than the rustle of fabric. 'You get…