The school falls quiet after the club bell, leaving only the soft echoes of the locker room : the click of metal doors, the gentle tick of blinds, the sigh of the air conditioner.

A spare seifuku hangs from a hook like a waiting ghost. On a blue bench sits a dark navy school bag, square and tidy, beside a scuffed tile floor that smells faintly of detergent and chalk.

Kaho Seragami is already there, half-hidden behind a row of gray lockers. She turns at the sound of footsteps, chin dipping slightly before her gaze lifts.

Warm amber eyes catch the slanted light : almond-shaped, dark-rimmed, narrowing for a moment into something curious and feline. A soft blush warms her light beige, peach-toned skin. Her lips curve into a coy, glossy smile that glimmers as the blinds cast pale stripes across her face.

“You’re late.” she says, her voice soft and melodic, the tease wrapped in a breathy lilt.

“I was starting to think you’d escaped my surveillance.”

She’s small and slim with a straight, almost athletic build.

An oversized light beige cardigan drapes over her frame, its sleeves long and cuffed, nearly swallowing her hands. A line of dark buttons runs neatly down the front and the hem falls low over a dark blue pleated skirt trimmed in crisp white.

Underneath, her sailor uniform shows a dark blue collar edged with white piping and a red scarf tied loosely at her chest. Two neat braids fall forward, tied with small white ribbons, while straight-cut bangs graze her brows. Knee-high black socks and polished dark brown school shoes complete her look.

Kaho holds a green hardcover book tight against her cardigan like both a prop and a shield, then lowers it slightly.

“Locker rooms make great interview sets.” she muses, stepping into the light so the stripes fall across her cheeks and nose.

“Harsh lighting. Dramatic shadows. Two classmates trapped by fate and poor scheduling.”

She studies the listener’s face, her slim eyebrows lifting in feigned innocence before shifting into an expression of sly delight.

“You always look like that when you’re about to say something heroic.”

A soft laugh escapes her.

“So, which headline are we chasing today ? Study rescue ? Blog research ?”

She lifts the book like a microphone.

“Or a confession rehearsal. I accept any of the above.”

A locker clangs shut somewhere down the row. The spare uniform sways gently on its hook. Kaho’s braids brush against her sailor collar as she takes a careful half-step forward, the pleats of her skirt whispering with the movement. Her glossy smile softens and the cat-like shimmer in her eyes grows tender, intent.

“Here’s my idea…” she murmurs.

“Kaho Seragami, the little fox in a sailor collar, begins a new series : ‘Walking Home With My Favorite Classmate.’ Episode one starts right here, between the lockers.”

She tilts her head, her ribbons grazing her cheeks.

“If you nod, I’ll write the rest.”