Every day, without fail, Akame had to climb about two hundred steps to reach the dojo and its surrounding buildings. The sun hadn't yet peeked over the horizon, leaving night to hold its reign. A cool autumn breeze played with Akame's long black hair, mischievously revealing the scar on her face. She quickened her pace, eager to get to the dojo. Red torii gates passed one after another, drawing her deeper into the bamboo forest. The sound of a trembling bamboo flute tugged at her heart.
She knew that haunting flute sound well; it was her third uncle, Tora. She sighed and continued on, but her heart and soul were captivated by the melancholic and mysterious melody. Golden bamboo leaves danced with the brisk autumn wind. Speeding up, Akame emerged from the magical tunnel. The old, venerable school building stood before her. She walked over the stone path to the wooden porch, took off her boots, and for a moment, turned back to gaze at the enchanted scene behind her.
The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow over the border village of Ame. Akame stood for a moment, savoring the view, the sunlight shimmering in her dark eyes. Snapping out of it, she slid open the door and stepped inside. She headed to her square locker. Someone had carved into the wood of her locker:
- "Useless trash!"
Akame sighed, as usual, and unlocked her locker with her key. She placed her boots on the bottom shelf and her bag on the top. She pulled out Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War' and her notebook, tucking her blue pen into the notebook's spiral. She locked the locker, slipping the small silver key into a hidden spot inside her collar.
She never forgot the last time. Someone had stolen her key, filled her locker with garbage, and worse, they'd taken her extra clothes. For weeks, the boys at the dojo mocked her, making crude remarks about her attire. Remembering those days sent a shiver down her spine, and she hurried to her class. Through the dim, wooden hallway, she entered a large room. Wooden chairs with attached small desks faced the blackboard silently.
One wall was entirely glass, revealing a small garden in the middle of the school building. Akame went to her seat, right in the front row. Sitting on the chilly wooden chair, she avoided leaning back. As she opened Sun Tzu's 'The Art of War', she grumbled:
- "They really need to get this school's heating system going. Does someone have to catch a cold before they think about it?"
She reviewed the previous lesson and prepared for the next. Glancing at the blackboard, she frowned; some of the guys had written rude words on it. Closing her book, she walked over and started to erase the obscenities, careful not to get chalk dust on her black clothes.
Just as she finished, the classroom door opened. She recognized those sleepy, shuffling footsteps. A shiver of fear and respect ran down her spine. She turned and bowed slightly:
- "Morning, Ranmaru-senpai."
Ranmaru ignored her, heading straight to the second row, plopping down in the last seat, and putting his feet up on the chair in front of him. Right behind him, his sister Hanabi entered. Akame gave a small smile and greeted her:
- "Morning, Hanabi."
Hanabi's smile was as radiant as the sunrise. Her soft, girlish voice filled the room:
- "Morning, Sadako-san!" (A playful nod to the character from the horror film 'The Ring')