Nami

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, taking in my long black hair and black eyes. Although those are my physical characteristics, to avoid suspicion about my true identity as an angel and blend in with the people of Tokyo, I can still see my long white hair, light blue eyes, and light blue wings hidden beneath my human form.

A shadow of sadness falls upon me as I recall my departure from the castle, Sora’s words lingering in the back of my mind nonstop.

“Be careful in Tokyo, Nami. Demons have been living there for years, perfectly disguised as humans. If you cross paths with them someday, contact me immediately and stay put in your apartment. Even though the Peace Pact between the Kingdom of Angels and the Kingdom of Demons should be enough to protect you, you must not let your guard down until we get to the bottom of the attacks,” he warned, his protective and brotherly demeanor filling my heart with love.

I scan my school uniform—the dark green blazer, white collared shirt, dark green necktie, and dark green-and-white pleated skirt—which suits me well. Still, I miss my robes and tunics. It has been a month since I first arrived in Tokyo, and what I find most annoying is picking outfits that match, since, apparently, I cannot go out on the streets in fabrics that do not fall into the category of fashionable. Well, at least that is what my instructor told me at the castle when I was preparing to come to the human realm.

“Oh, no. I am going to be late,” I grumble while grabbing my black shoulder bag and running to the front door. 

After slipping into my black shoes, I leave the old yet cute apartment Father and Mother have rented for me in a calm and simple neighborhood and rush to the train station.

Thirty minutes later, my heart thumps with anticipation as I watch the commotion inside the train car, filled with adults going to work and sleepy students dreading the start of another school term.

Speaking of school, somehow, Father and Mother have managed to enroll me at Mori Senior High School—a prestigious private senior high school. According to them, they want me to finish the third grade like a normal teenager, which explains why they insisted that I be mentored in all subjects from a young age.

My teachers in the Kingdom of Angels were angels who had had the opportunity to excel academically in the human realm. They were not born and raised there, per se; my father, then king, sent them there. However, a decade later, they were ordered to return to the kingdom after having learned all about the residents’ customs, language, behavior, traditions, and so on.

As I stare out the window, lost in my thoughts, the young woman standing next to me says, “Excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude, but judging by your uniform, you’re a student at Mori Senior High School, aren’t you?”

I look at her, my face expressionless. “Yes, I am.”

She grins, excited. “Wow, that’s incredible. I tried to enroll there three times, but they turned me down because of my poor test scores. How much did you score to be accepted?”

Tests? Score? Accepted? What is this girl talking about?

I furrow my brows, puzzled. “Apologies, but I do not think I understand your question.”

Before she can retort, the name of the station where I am supposed to disembark echoes through the train car, saving me from the uncomfortable conversation with the unknown human.

“Excuse me.” I shoot her a small smile that does not reach my eyes and make my way to the nearest door on the appointed side, rushing out as soon as it opens.

By this point, I have ridden the train and walked to school a number of times to memorize the route, but no matter how hard I try, I still struggle to find the correct exit without getting lost.

“Good grief. Why is this place so complicated?” I mumble when I realize I have taken the wrong turn—yet again—and spin on my heels to return to the main turnstiles. To make matters worse, my undergarments are irritating me, even though I am wearing the cute cotton ones that are not suited for dates, as my instructor warned me.

“Hey, are you lost?” a beautiful girl asks, a friendly smile spreading across her face. “We’re schoolmates, look.” She points at her blazer, which features the Mori School emblem—a single school building surrounded by trees. “Isn’t that cool?”

As I stare at her blankly, I wonder what is wrong with humans who keep talking to me without even knowing me. Is that common behavior, or can they sense that I am an angel and are preying on me? Is she planning on murdering me? Is she a demon, perhaps?

The girl chuckles, unfazed by my lack of reaction, and introduces herself. “Nice to meet you. My name is Aimi Shiokawa.” She waves nonchalantly.

Suddenly, the princess in me awakens, prompting me to curtsy and tell her my name in the politest tone I can muster. “I extend my sincere apologies. I am Nami Fukuyama. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

A moment of silence follows as I glance at the girl, who is gaping at me.

“Why are you so formal? Are you a noble or something?” She bursts out laughing.

I cover my mouth with my hands and flinch, panicking.

Has she discovered my true identity?

She throws an arm around my neck and heads for one of the exits. “Nami-chan, let’s be friends. What do you think?”

Nami-chan?

“Friends?” I gasp, her proximity and overall manners shocking me to the core.

“What grade are you in?”

“Third grade,” I reply as we walk out of the station.

The rude and over-friendly girl jumps in front of me, her eyes shining. “Really? Me too. I hope we’re in the same class.”

I really hope we are not.

I take a moment to inspect her frame. She is tall and thin, with short dark hair and brown eyes, and is fairly attractive. She reminds me of the girls I saw in the fashion magazine I bought the week before.

“You’re a transfer student, aren’t you? I’ve never seen you at school,” she observes, curiosity emanating from her voice. “Where are you coming from?”

What a nosy human.

“I have come from the Kingdom of—er, I mean, Aichi-ken,” I say, mentally scolding myself for almost revealing my true birthplace.

She claps her hands together, looking even more excited. “Aichi-ken? My grandparents live there.”

As she rambles about her family and the city I am supposedly from, I watch in awe as the cherry blossom trees, in full bloom, tower over the path to the school’s main entrance. The flowery scent and the sound of the delicate pink petals swirling in the breeze transport me back to my favorite spot in the castle in the Kingdom of Angels and its beautiful scenery.

Tokyo is a beautiful, nice country to live in, even for someone like me who is not used to people or technology—I still have not figured out how to find my own number on my smartphone, and I have only recently learned what “surfing the internet” means. Social media accounts? Pfft. I do not even know how to take a picture with the cursed device.

“Nami-chan, hello,” Shiokawa-san exclaims, waving a hand in front of my face. “You spaced out.”

“Huh? Apologies for my rudeness.” I apologize immediately, ashamed of acting so rudely toward someone. “I was just admiring the sakura trees.”

“They are beautiful, aren’t they?”

I smile. “Yes, they are.”

“Aimi,” a boy calls out from afar.

“Oh, it’s Katsudon,” Shiokawa-san remarks, her eyes falling upon a group of people standing in front of the school gates. “Come on; I want to introduce you to my friends,” she tells me before darting in their direction, not bothering to look back and check if I am following her, which, by the way, I am not.

I blend in amongst the other students and manage to walk past her without being noticed. However, it proves futile when, later in the morning, the 3-D teacher introduces me to the class, and a loud, excited shriek from the nosy girl tells me that, unfortunately, we are indeed in the same class.

“Everyone, this is Nami Fukuyama. She is a transfer student from Aichi-ken,” the homeroom teacher announces while I stand in front of the class, looking awkward, out of place, and nervous. “Let’s make her feel welcome.” She glances at me and nods.

I take a deep breath before saying, “My name is Nami Fukuyama, and I am honored to be here.” My tone is firm, polite, and low, yet loud enough for my classmates to hear me clearly.

The whispers about how beautiful I am do not go unnoticed, nor do the few comments about my expressionless face and overall lack of emotion. Someone even uses the word “spoiled” to describe their first impression of me. Not that it matters, as I do not intend to be friends with any of them or interact with them at all.

“Fukuyama-san, you may take a seat at that empty desk,” the teacher instructs, pointing to a desk in the back of the classroom, and I comply immediately, relieved that it is nowhere near the nosy girl’s.

As I sit down with my head lowered, the boy in front of me turns around and smiles broadly. Much to my surprise, his hair and eyes are green, though it is clear that those are not his natural features—hair dye and colored contacts must be a must for him.

“Hey, I’m Katsu Watanabe. It’s nice to meet you.” He gives me a small wave.

Katsu? The name sounds familiar for some reason.

“I am Nami Fukuyama. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, Watanabe-san.” I nod lightly.

“There’s no need for formalities.” He laughs. “All my friends call me Tonkatsu.”

“I appreciate your kindness, but if you do not mind, I would prefer to address you as Watanabe-san.” I hesitate, uncomfortable.

He laughs again, unbothered. “Watanabe-san it is, then.” He winks and turns his attention back to the teacher.

Humans are extremely tiring.

* * *

Lunch break arrives once the Opening Ceremony ends. As I make my way to the school cafeteria, I am anything but pleased that Shiokawa-san insists on following me. Regardless, I choose white rice, fried chicken, soup, and potato salad, while she goes for a big bowl of curry and white rice.

Before I can head to an empty table, the nosy girl warns, “Don’t even think about ditching me again, Nami-chan. You’re sitting with my friends and me whether you want to or not.” She glares at me intently.

I sigh. “Fine.”

She leads me to a table where the same students from the gate are chatting and eating their lunches. I recognize Watanabe-san almost instantly, which explains why his name felt familiar when he introduced himself during homeroom.

“Guys, this is Nami-chan, the new member of our group,” Shiokawa-san announces, grinning. “Be nice to her,” she adds, squeezing her eyes at the boy next to Watanabe-san. “And I mean you, Yuu-kun.”

I make no effort to find the particular target of her caution, as I am too busy savoring the mouthwatering food I carefully chose before reluctantly sitting across from her. Besides, I am not interested in getting to know her friends. One detail catches my attention, though—the students at the other tables do not stop giggling and swooning over the ones I am with, hinting that the latter carry a significant level of popularity here.

“I would never mistreat your new friend, Aimi,” the boy responds, sounding offended. I can feel his eyes on me as he continues, “Nami-chan, is it?”

I finally glance up from my food, gasping softly at the sight of the most handsome human boy I have ever seen. When our gazes meet, his mesmerizing hazel eyes, messy light brown hair, and flawless skin take my breath away.

As we stare at each other, suddenly, I catch a glimpse of a shadowy form with dark red hair, dark brown horns, and light red eyes enveloping him. To say that I am startled is an understatement.

Is that a demon?

I blink a couple of times and no longer see what looked like a demon just seconds before, which confuses me.

Did I imagine it? Am I losing my mind?

As I refocus on the handsome boy, I am taken aback to see that his aghast expression mirrors mine, making me wonder if he saw my angel form at the same time I glimpsed the scary figure, which would confirm that he is, in fact, a demon.

* * *