The thick fabric digs into my collarbone. It is loaded with textbooks, a few personal items from the outside world, and heavy notebooks.
Turning right, I walk along the paved path leading toward the student dormitories.
Tall green trees line the walkway, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. The school grounds look less like a high school and more like a high-end corporate retreat. Everything is meticulously clean and not a single piece of trash litters the grass.
Up ahead, the dormitory buildings rise into the blue sky. The modern architecture features sharp angles and huge panels of tinted glass.
Walking through the front entrance, I enter a wide, spacious lobby. A long front desk sits to the left, manned by an older man in a dark gray uniform. I approach the counter.
"Name?" he asks without looking up from his computer monitor.
"Tal Mikhail. Class 1-D," I answer.
He types a few keys. The keyboard clacks loudly in the quiet lobby. He opens a drawer, pulls out a small plastic envelope, and slides it across the counter.
"Here is your room assignment, your electronic keycard, and the dormitory rulebook. Read the rules carefully. Curfew is strictly enforced," he states in a bored, practiced tone.
I take the envelope and nod my thanks. Tearing the plastic open, I pull out a thick white card.
Turning away from the desk, I walk toward the bank of silver elevators at the back of the lobby and press the call button. The metal doors slide open immediately with a soft chime.
Stepping inside the empty car, I hit the button for my floor. The elevator rises smoothly, completely devoid of the rattling and shaking I am used to in older city buildings.
The doors open to a long, carpeted hallway. The walls are painted a clean, neutral beige. I walk down the quiet corridor, checking the small silver numbers bolted to the doors until I find my assigned room.
Tapping the white card against the black electronic lock above the handle, a small light turns green. A mechanical click echoes in the empty hallway.
I push the heavy wooden door open and step inside.
The room is a standard single-occupancy layout, but it is incredibly spacious for a high school dorm. A single bed rests against the far wall near a large window. A solid wooden desk sits opposite the bed. A small kitchenette occupies the space near the entrance, complete with a sink, a microwave, and a compact refrigerator. A closed door to my left likely leads to a private bathroom.
Dropping my heavy shoulder bag onto the mattress, I let out a long breath. The canvas hits the blankets with a loud thud. I pull the three free items out of my pocket and toss them onto the desk.
The silence of the room feels heavy. It is total isolation. The thick walls completely block out any noise from the hallway or the adjacent rooms.
Checking the digital clock on the microwave, the bright red numbers read 11:15 AM.
I don't have time to relax because I need to move to the next phase of my setup.
Grabbing my heavy bag off the bed, I sling it back over my shoulder. I step back out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me. The lock engages with a solid, reassuring click.
Exiting the dormitory building, I join the flow of students heading toward the center of the campus. My destination is the Keyaki Mall.
The walk takes about fifteen minutes. The sheer scale of the facility becomes apparent as I crest a small hill on the paved walkway.