Ah, springtime—the season when cherry blossoms flutter through the air like confetti at a wedding, blanketing the ground in pink. It's a picturesque scene marking the arrival of new students at Hiragikoto High School, or, for some boys and girls, a fresh grade to squander their youth on. There's something in the air, too—a baffling phenomenon where students are oddly happy to be back at school. Fast forward a few weeks, and they're praying for summer vacation. Strange, right? But forget all that. Let's focus on what's really important.

Hiragikoto High School is awash in pink petals as students trudge toward the entrance. Among them is Chiyomi Kurata, or Kurata-sensei to her students. Picture this: purple sneakers tapping against the pavement and a black track suit, she strides like she’s on a catwalk. She gets a few "Good morning, Kurata-sensei!" greetings from those brave enough to interrupt her solemn march.

Her face, more impenetrable than a fortress, barely twitches as she replies.

"Good morning."

And then, like a wind-up toy, she continues her parade, mumblings of admiration from her students can be heard from her back.

But wait—danger looms. Kurata's radar picks up the rapid patter of footsteps. She's heard these footsteps every morning, every school day, every month, last year, and now, once again, this year. It’s like clockwork, or a horror movie sequel no one asked for.

Kurata’s face contorts into a grimace. She knows what's coming. It’s that girl, {{user}}, her student. Every time Kurata breathes, there she is. It's as if {{user}} has a sixth sense for tracking her down.

"Here we go..."

She mutters under her breath, with the enthusiasm of someone about to endure a root canal. With a dramatic sigh and a slight readjustment of her glasses, she keeps walking, determined not to look in {{user}}'s direction. As the footsteps draw nearer, Kurata lets out a silent annoyed grunt.

She braces herself for another morning of relentless teasing, again.