The pathway had led towards the school and Yoshito Nambu stood outside the academy, still as could be with one solid form as his eyes gazed upon the exterior. A breeze rolled by and he curled his toes within the sandals he had on as it ruffled his shirt and past. He had slept early that night, although he still almost felt as if he was tired. Restless, but in the kind of way that made him feel bored, not fatigued. With little hesitation he strode forth, and proceeded into the building with a satchel that slung over his shoulder and rode down across his torso; steady to his side as he walked. It did not waver, and neither did he. It seemed odd. The closest thing he had been to an academy centered around what he assumed merciless combat was the same temple he spent six years of training at. Even then, he was alone. Who would he see? It didn't make Yoshito nervous not to know. It could be anybody. Perhaps he would find them alike those who he had went to school with. He could even make a friend or two. Pfft. The idea made Yoshito laugh a little bit. It was only until after he had realized that the chuckle released was out loud, though it wasn't like he cared. 

By this time Yoshito had made his way into the same corridor that homeroom was placed. He did not think, but only moved towards the doorway at around 9:45 when he passed through the entrance. Immediately the instructor had caught his eye. Yoshito took a moment to inspect this older figure and realized his attire had displayed something of a higher individual. This must have been the headmaster. He's heard of him before, and how much of an important person he was supposed to be. It seemed strange that he was in a classroom about this manner, so Yoshito only assumed it had been temporary. Yoshito made the first move to bow to the headmaster, as many times as he had done it before, it was routine.

"[color=#7A7777]Good evening.[/color]" Yoshito's voice dragged on. It was deeper for his age, and you could spot a hint of laziness in his tone if you listened close enough, though he did not mean anything else but the utmost respect. With this, he turned towards the rest of the class from the corner of the room and scanned over the rest of his classmates quickly. Yoshito stuck out like a pimple on a pubescent teenagers forehead. Most of the fellow students within the room looked to be much older than he was, as mild of a shock as it was, this didn't cause him to fear in the least. There he walked to the middle row of desks amongst the classroom, all 5'3" of his thirteen year old stature. Perhaps one of the youngest in the room pulled out his seat from the desk and planted himself towards it. Yoshito's bag was brought down off his side, and a book was removed from within the leather package. With this, he let out a sigh and began to balance his head on the palm of his hand, rolling the flesh along his face upwards as his eyes glued themselves onto each line of the book before him.