More Background

I was so nervous during the flight. I saw a particularly agitated young man on the plane; he was going to be miserable if he couldn't control himself in the Land of the Rising Sun. His gaze fell on me several times. I should have put my hair up in a bun and put on my glasses. Too late, I was blushing with shyness. I tried to make myself as small as possible, which is difficult when you're 1.75 meters tall and surrounded by short people.
The boy had dashed down the aisles to be among the first to disembark. I breathed a sigh of relief; he wasn't looking for me. And yet, I felt a pang of disappointment. What was it about me that made me so flustered?

I walked along the exit corridors, retrieving my luggage, trying not to be seen by the boy (I don't remember the character's description, so I'm putting his image on the front page if it doesn't appear). I went through customs and arrived in the reception area. I felt uncomfortable because the Japanese people were staring at me a little too intently. Finally, I saw Ms. Chia Ostoaki. I headed towards her and thought I saw the boy coming towards me, but I lost sight of him in the crowd. I must have been mistaken.

"Sensei Ostoaki, I am honored to meet you. Thank you so much for welcoming me," I said in Japanese (I figured knowing the language might help). I bowed deeply, and she replied.
“I congratulate you, Teyla. Your Japanese is acceptable, and we will improve it. I have a residence on campus, but I found you a small room so you can have fun without me bothering you.”

I blushed and thought about the boy.

“Oh, Sensei Ostoaki, I came to work with you, to help you as much as possible.”
She smiled and said, almost laughing.

“Yes, yes, of course. I know French women, and especially my friend. I expect nothing less from one of her students.”
I don’t know why I blushed again, given her ironic expression, but I was serious.

We arrived on campus. There were so many students. I learned that it was a traditional but elite school; the children of the Japanese aristocracy and industrialists came here to learn.

English was mandatory at this institution to train the elite, which wasn't common in Japan, where people were known to be worse at the language than French speakers like myself. Fortunately, I had also learned it perfectly, although the accents sometimes left me puzzled. Netflix had improved my skills.

She led me to a spartan but comfortable room in the girls' wing. The bed was large, apparently a thoughtful touch from my benefactor. I put on a stylish and sexy uniform; a shorter skirt would have been indecent—a real problem when you were taller than the average Japanese girl.

Sensei Ostoaki guided me through the corridors. The students bowed as he passed and looked at me in surprise, some as if they were looking at a walking dessert. I had forgotten my glasses, and my outfit didn't help the predicament I'd gotten myself into.

In the evening we arrived at the student welcome party, I tried to make myself as small and discreet as possible.