By the time Hotaka gets to school, the second period is about to start. He drops his bike and runs to his locker, yanks off his shoes, pulls on his school slippers, grabs his books and heads for class as fast as he can go. He sprints down the main corridor and slides around the corner, straight into the path of Mr Hashimoto, skidding to a stop centimetres from the principal and dropping his books.

‘Whoa!’ Mr Hashimoto holds up his hands. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Gomen nasai, Principal Hashimoto! Please forgive me.’ Hotaka scrambles about on the floor, collecting his books. ‘I was rushing because I don’t want to miss my favourite subject.’

‘I see. And what might this favourite subject be?’

‘Maths, sir.’

‘Ah. With Tamura-san?’

‘Yes, sir. He’s such a great teacher. He always gives us such interesting problems. One of the great joys of, er, Maths.’

‘Really? Tell me something, Hotaka. I have a strong feeling that you’ve only just arrived at school. Am I correct?’

Hotaka sighs. ‘Yes, sir.’ He fidgets and stares at the floor.

‘An explanation, if you please.’

Hotaka could tell the simple truth, that he was doing stuff for the Memorial Concert. But according to school rules he should have written permission from one of the teachers. He doesn’t have it – and Mr Hashimoto lives by the rules.

‘I’m waiting.’

‘Please don’t be hard on the student, Principal Hashimoto.’

Hotaka is instantly relieved when Miss Abe appears.

‘Allow me to take any blame. He was on a mission for me, a special school matter I didn’t want to bother you with, knowing how precious your time is.’

‘And may I ask what was this mission was, Abe-sensei?’

‘Certainly, Principal. But perhaps Hotaka himself should deliver the good news.’ Miss Abe gives Hotaka a do-something! stare.

‘Of course, Abe-sensei,’ Hotaka replies, turning to the principal. ‘As you know, sir, I have been working with Abe-sensei and others to organise a special concert as part of the school’s—’

‘Yes, yes, I know all that. The good news – what is it?’

Hotaka is in two minds. He could simply tell the truth: that he was with the Puppet People and that they’ve agreed to be part of the Memorial Concert. But he wants to really impress Mr Hashimoto, and feels that might not be enough to do the job. From something Miss Abe once said, however, he thinks he knows what will be enough. So he decides to play with the truth a little.

‘The reason I’m late this morning is that I visited Kosaki-san to make sure she’ll sing at our concert.’

‘The geisha?’ Mr Hashimoto replies. ‘I thought she said she’d never sing again?’

‘Correct, sir,’ Hotaka continues, a smile forming. ‘But I have persuaded her otherwise. This morning she finally agreed to sing at our concert.’

Mr Hashimoto is delighted. To actually have a geisha at the Memorial Concert is marvellous enough for him. But to have one of such fame as Miss Kosaki is wonderful beyond words. He claps several times, and for a moment looks as if he might break into a little dance. But then he manages to contain his excitement.

‘Is it really so?’ he asks in a controlled whisper.

Hotaka nods, but inwardly gulps, knowing he’ll just have to make it so.

Mr Hashimoto beams. ‘When I was your age, I heard the great Kosaki-sama sing and I will never forget it.’ He clears his throat before continuing. ‘Her voice was a piece of paradise.’ He pats Hotaka on the shoulder. ‘Well done, wakaino. Well done.’ He takes a deep breath and steps back, resuming a principal’s decorum. ‘Off you go, then.’

‘There’s just one small matter, sir. I am late for class now, and Tamura-sensei will not be pleased.’

‘Quite right, Hotaka.’ Mr Hashimoto strokes his chin. ‘Tell him you’ve been talking to me.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Hotaka says and heads off to class.

‘I’ll see you at lunchtime,’ Miss Abe calls after him. ‘You do know you’re on lunch duty this week?’

‘Sure do, Abe-sensei,’ he replies, even though he had completely forgotten. Great, he groans internally, a whole week of serving lunches to the other students.

When Hotaka reaches the door to his classroom he knocks lightly and, after a pause, enters. He is greeted by a sea of faces. The only person not looking at him is Mr Tamura; he is writing up a problem on the board. He stops in the middle of an equation, his chalk pressed against the board.

‘Did I tell you to enter, Yamato?’ he says without turning around.

‘I’m sorry, Tamura-sensei,’ Hotaka replies. ‘I thought I heard you—’

‘Hearing voices now, are we? First sign of madness, you know.’

‘Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir, I didn’t know this, about madness, that is. But yes, sir.’

The class laughs. Hotaka’s face feels extremely hot.

‘And you’re late. Nine minutes and forty-three seconds late, to be precise.’

‘Yes, sir. I’m sorry but I—’

‘What do you think that’s a sign of?’

‘Stupidity,’ someone calls out.

Mr Tamura ignores this. ‘Bad manners,’ he says, scratching an equal sign on the board. ‘Very bad manners.’ He taps his chalk on the board for each word. ‘Unless, of course, you have an excuse.’

‘I do, sir. I was with the principal. He told me—’

‘Enough,’ Mr Tamura snorts, his piece of chalk snapping against the board. ‘Sit down.’

Hotaka sighs. As he walks to his desk near the front of the class, he looks over at Sakura and Osamu, and gives them a thumbs-up. He doesn’t see the foot shoot across his path. He is sent sprawling, his books airborne; one hits Mr Tamura in the back. The Maths teacher turns and glares at Hotaka on the floor.

‘I said sit down. Not lie down.’

As Hotaka gathers his books, he glances back and quickly realises who tripped him. Tarou Nakamara – the class bully – is looking straight at him, a smug sneer smeared across his face. Hotaka returns the stare and holds it for a while before sitting.