Sakuramoria

“The stars promised me wealth and financial success, not having to get up for a lecture this early…” Nira grumbled, sleepily dragging her feet towards the auditorium. For many of the students, calling this hour “early” would be an understatement, but for Nira, who was used to sleeping in on weekends (of which she had at least five a week), the first day of school was not the most pleasant experience. Spending until noon in a soft bed, listening to the lively noise of busy workers rushing about, getting herself ready, washing up, or even luxuriating in a morning bath, calling for a servant to tidy the room, leisurely trying on a couple of outfits for the day, primping in front of the mirror, and then going to the dining room for a light breakfast, where fresh magazines were already waiting on the table – all this familiar ceremony of her well-planned day took at least two hours; however, in the current difficult life situation, none of this was possible anymore. Barely squeezing through the almost-closed door of the auditorium behind the last student, Nira plopped down on the nearest available seat, opened her bag, and began lazily arranging neat notebooks, brand-new writing implements, and other useless trinkets on the table, purchased by the staff before their departure. To avoid dozing off, the girl began to indifferently study their new professor. Unlike her father, who supported the establishment of diplomatic ties with people of various nationalities and was genuinely interested in the culture of different countries on the continent, Nira herself had absorbed some of her mother's dislike for foreigners, treating them with a healthy dose of suspicion. Altito Tit looked eccentric, but harmless, strangely fixated on something vague, elusive to the eyes of an ordinary resident of the lands of Sakuramoria. This "man" undoubtedly knew about the history and culture of her homeland hundreds of times more than she did, but all these great knowledge paled in comparison to the simple privilege of being "born" and "raised" in this land – a right that she and her compatriots were granted simply by virtue of their origin. Altito Tit smiled suspiciously, talking about the crowds of migrants who were about to flood their quiet and cozy school world. Nira wasn't particularly interested in history and politics, but she could tolerate memorizing dates and key events for the sake of general education. But in all this academic arrogance, she clearly saw a pathetic attempt to show off in front of important guests, to put on their shabby national costumes, and to greet them with insincere smiles, saying things like "Aoakami is cool! ☝", "Welcome, dear refitees!" and all sorts of similar things. And how many of these newcomers will diligently study the traditions and culture of their country? How many unfortunate Sakuramorians will have to clean their shabby rooms for two people and bring stipends to the Oleandrinians in the backyard? And how many young girls will become victims of "well, that's how it's done in their homeland"? Shaking her heavy head, Nira managed to pry open her eyelids, staring blankly at the world map that had been unfolded on the board. She would never remember the red and gray names in her life, but she could simply memorize the green ones, whose insignificant number eloquently confirmed all her previous thoughts. What kind of diplomats were they going to train, and what kind of newcomers were they going to welcome, when the surrounding countries hated their country only slightly less than they hated each other? Only one thing pleased her: the ability to shoot a pistol could really come in handy very soon.