Yaichirou may be miserable, but he's miserable with dignity. He sits straight in his seat, stony-faced with his eyes fixed on the cadet handbook in his lap. Never mind that he hasn't turned a page in the last ten minutes, or that he's sweating, or that he keeps grinding his teeth. If he ignores the heat hard enough it'll disappear out of sheer embarrassment.

After the bus hits three potholes in a row, it becomes impossible to even pretend that he can read under these conditions. He finally sits back and scans the rows, sizing up his fellow cadets-- and immediately feels like an idiot.

"Ichijo?!"

How long has he been there? Damn it, Yaichirou should've greeted him sooner. This might not be as formal as their usual encounters but it was still rude to ignore him. He clears his throat and tries to gather his composure.

"I must admit, I didn't expect to see you here. It's been a while."

A little over a year, in fact. He isn't keeping up with the prominent families nearly as well as he should.