Classroom Of The Elite: Strings of The Puppeteer Master

Chapter 1: Departure

The sizzle of the omelette filled the small kitchen, a comforting counterpoint to the nervous flutter in my chest. Four years. Four years of quiet meals, shared laughter, and an unspoken bond that had blossomed between Lloyd, the boy entrusted to my care, and myself. Today, that bond was about to be tested.

Lloyd, his usual stoicism evident in the set of his jaw, sat at the table, his ash-grey eyes glued to the news on the television. Taro, his foster brother, bounced excitedly in his chair, his eyes wide with anticipation.

"Here you go, Lloyd," I said, placing a plate of steaming omelette in front of him. "And for you, Taro, my little whirlwind."

Taro attacked his omelette with gusto, his eyes darting between his food and Lloyd with unabashed admiration. Lloyd, however, remained engrossed in the news, a frown creasing his brow as he absorbed the grim headlines.

"Lloyd," I gently chided, "Eat up. You'll be late for the bus."

He sighed, a barely perceptible movement, and finally began to eat, his movements deliberate and almost mechanical. I watched them both, a bittersweet smile playing on my lips. It felt strange, this quiet domesticity. Strange and wonderful.

Lloyd finished his meal quickly, pushing his plate aside. He stood up, his movements fluid and graceful despite their deliberate nature.

"Hey, Taro," he said, his voice a low rumble, "You can have the console if you want."

Taro's eyes widened. "Really?!" he squealed, jumping out of his chair, nearly tipping it over. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you!"

I chuckled, watching Taro's exuberant display. Lloyd, however, remained unfazed, his gaze sweeping across the room with an air of detachment.

At the doorstep, I watched Lloyd descend the short flight of stairs. He paused, turning back to me.

"Miss Sato Shinomiya," he began, his voice surprisingly formal, "I offer you my sincerest gratitude. For everything. I wouldn't be where I am today without you."

I bowed my head slightly. "I simply did what needed to be done, Lloyd. I hope I made it a little easier for you."

He nodded, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the bustling street. Then, as if an afterthought, he added, "Oh, and… Happy Birthday, Miss Sato Shinomiya."

My breath hitched. He remembered. He actually remembered. A single tear escaped my eye, tracing a path down my cheek.

"Thank you, Lloyd," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I hope to see you again."

He gave a slight nod in acknowledgement and continued down the street, his figure gradually diminishing into the distance. I watched him go, a wave of melancholy washing over me.

Turning back to the house, I passed Taro, who was already engrossed in the video game console, the sounds of excitement filling the living room. I walked to the library, my fingers tracing the edge of a picture frame. It held a photo of us – Lloyd, Taro, and me – taken during our first trip to Shinjuku. A bittersweet smile touched my lips.

Lloyd's POV

I have lived with Sato Shinomiya for four years. Four years of routine, of quiet meals, of her gentle guidance. Four years that, despite their monotony, had somehow become… comfortable.

As I walked out of the house, Sato standing at the doorstep, a strange sensation washed over me. A sense of… loss.

"I hope you have a great time in high school," she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she offered her signature smile.

"I won't be seeing you for a very long time," I replied, my voice monotone as always.

She lowered her head, a fleeting sadness crossing her features. She had done her duty, I knew.

I turned around to face the street, the bustling city a stark contrast to the quietude of the house I was leaving behind. I took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of exhaust fumes and unfamiliar noises.

Then, something unexpected happened. I turned back to her and found myself saying, "Oh, and… Happy Birthday, Miss Sato Shinomiya."

Her eyes widened, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. I felt… a strange warmth spread through me. An unfamiliar emotion.

I found myself smiling, a genuine smile, a rare occurrence indeed.

"Congratulations, Sato-san," I continued, my voice softer than usual, "You're 30 years old. I hope you live life to the fullest."

I resumed my walk, the city stretching out before me, a vast and intimidating expanse. Japan…

Japan was…

A really disgusting place.