There in back with sitting with her nursemaid, a doll of a girl sat with her eyes close. Her lashes were long and dark, fanning over porcelain flushed skin. Her rose bud mouth was drawn in a small serene smile, and her long wavy hair was drawn over one slender shoulder. Both delicate hands folded in her lap she sat perfectly still. In a soft colorful kimono, she almost looked like one of those collectible doll that grandmother collected. Slowly her eyes opened, sightless and glazed, like two perfect round clouded crystals in an odd shade of purple black.

"You should of worn your uniform, Miss," her childhood nursemaid murmured nervously in her ear, "You'll get in trouble."

"Please, Kitome, I'm trying to listen," her voice was soft and warm, musical yet a bit stern. 

"Your parents had everything shipped in," the worried elder's voice mumbled, "but leaving you here by yourself..."

"Kitome," it was a sharp whisper, odd sounding from such a sweet voice, but she turned her head to worrying hen of a nursemaid, "It is time I rely on myself. I shall be safe here but I will also be free." A sad smile was painted across that beautiful young face, "You should go now Kitome. It's time for the first class. I'll be fine by myself."

"But Miss..." the elderly woman murmured. Tomo could hear the choked emotion in the kind time worn voice. Her small pale hand lifted, searchingly and soon the familiar touch of the hand that had alway guided her clasped hers. Placing both hands over the elder woman's she smiled. 

"Thank you so much Kitome," her musical voice sighed with farewell sadness, but a mature logic, "Write me often, please?"

"Yes, Miss," the hesitated voice of her loving nursemaid Kitome answer, before she was pulled into a warm hug. The smell of lilac and cinnamon, the feel of a plain uniform kimono and the warm of a caring old woman. The one who had always fussed over her and raised her like a loving grandmother. The alien feel of tears stung Tomo's unseeing eyes.

"I love you Kitome," she whispered softly, "My soul's mother." The old woman gave one last caring squeeze, a pat on Tomo's head, and what felt like a stack of starchy clothes before the sensation of her presence was gone. Empty air, cold and empty, now filled the spot where he caretaker had once been. The childish side of her wanted to cry and take back her decision of Yamaku Academy. She wanted to be a child again, sleeping with her head on Kitome's lap as the summer sunlight brushed against her face and the sound of Kitome's voice singing old folk songs rang through the air. 

But she had to grow up. She had to stand by her decision. Taking a walking stick out of her small traditional japanese bag, she waited for the sounds of the people around her to fade a bit before undoing the folded stick. Suppose she should change into her uniform... Kitome would want her to have a pleasant first day. She went through much trouble for her... With a small sigh, she made her was gracefully and confidently inside the school building. Thank full she had a brail map of the school with her so finding a bathroom to change in wasn't too much trouble. Well, once she found out where exactly she was first. Navigating from there was a breeze.

From there she went to her locker, which was a bit harder to do, since getting the right turn was a bit difficult. But she wouldn't ask for help either, so it took a bit longer. However once she found it she felt victorious. [i]I'll get the hang of this in no time,[/i] she thought cheerfully. Placing her kimono in her locker, she locked it up and check the map for her homeroom. It might take her a bit longer than most, but it was the first day. Certainly lots of younger students, especially first years and new students, like herself, got lost. 

So the sightless doll maneuvered her way through the school, unaware of some of the looks she got. It would of surprised her, since those looks were so vastly different from those at her old school. Instead of envy and jealous hate, she was being looked at in gentle appreciation. She was a beautiful girl certainly. There were many beautiful girls in the school. But she held herself with a traditional Japanese air of refinement and grace, even with her long white cane. She touched the brail sign next to the door to her classroom and a glowing smile crossed her face as she recognized it as her own homeroom class.

Sliding the door open, she heard the talking and laughing of students soften. Ah, she must be a bit late then... With an honorable bow of that of a young lady, she apologized for her tardiness. "Apologies if I am late, Sensei," she stood up in a straight and polite stance that held just as much delicate grace as an old Japanese doll, "I took me a while to find the classroom."

"Not at all, Mizukimura-san," an old man's voice smiled, "Just make sure to memorize the halls well so you are not late again."

"Yes, Sensei," she smiled and gave a shorter bow, before taking a few cautious steps forwards, "P-Pardon me..." The silence crashed down on her and she blushed a bit in her embarrassment, "Could you direct me to an open seat? I'd sit down quietly, but..."

"Of course," the teacher voice was kind and patient, which eased her embarrassment some, "First row, third seat. Next to the window."

"Thank you Sensei," she smiled graciously, before gliding over to the area he specified and sitting down. Sunlight streamed in and she closed her eyes. The warmth touched her face and she smiled. It streamed through her long dark wavy hair, which was now loosely tied to one side, and across her porcelain skin. It felt good to take part in a normal school life.