Somewhere, far, far away, there is a river. It would be unpleasant to stand on its broad, rocky banks tonight; the air is cloying, and uncomfortably warm, made worse by the bodies of those come to see the show pressing in from all sides. Instead, we leave the sultry mass of humanity with its sweat-soaked yukatas, and exhalations heavy with the odors of unnamed celebratory foods for a nearby building.
It stands beyond a copse of trees-mostly camphor and pine by their perfumes-and at 4 stories tall, stretches above their canopies. The grounds are spacious, and with the gates barred, are as deserted as the darkened halls within the building proper. It's a plain, boxy design, and its broad white walls and numerous windows glow spectrally in the moonlight.
Approaching the doors, we find them locked, but that doesn't matter. We enter the school, for that's what it is, and make our way along its corridors. Here, at least, their plan is simp