1.21 - A Story About a Married Teacher Who Becomes Obsessed With Her Female Student

Chapter 1: "The Scent of the Sea Doesn't Reach Me" - Part Twenty-One "Have you calmed down?" "Ah— yeah... a bit, I guess." If crouching in despair could be considered calm. I can no longer even grip the half-empty plastic bottle. I have to go home. Right now. And I have to thank and apologize to Togawa-san. I'm sure I've caused trouble for Hoshi-san, and there's a mountain of things to do. Yet, my body refuses to move. Normally, I'd tackle things one by one, but my head feels overwhelmingly heavy. Togawa-san provides a slight cough and glances away. "Here you go. I washed it just in case. Here." "Huh...?" In Togawa's hand that was behind her back is a piece of women's underwear. I recognize the pattern—mine!? "Wh—Wh—Wha!?" I leap up from the bed in a panic, feeling my face drain of blood as I frantically check through my clothes. Nausea sets in, and my back fluctuates between hot and cold, indicating rapidly deteriorating condition. "That's mine!" "It is, sensei's." My trembling lips render me incapable of coherent questions. Not how it’s in Togawa’s hands, but why it is. Worst-case scenarios race through my mind, filling my vision with chaotic lines. "When you said you needed to go to the toilet, I took you there. You hit your shin on the toilet seat and fell. You cried, saying you couldn't go alone, so I helped undress you," Togawa-san explains. "I want to die." As I prepare to dive out the window, Togawa-san grabs my arms and shoulders, preventing my escape. "Stay strong, Togawa-san." "No, sensei, you should be the strong one." "I feel like I could be swallowed by the earth right now." "It's okay, sensei. I didn't peek when you were using the bathroom." "Aaaaugh!" A scream, akin to a newborn's wail, escapes naturally, resonating within my jawbone. I clutch my head, writhing. Writhing. Wriggle! I cannot bear to look directly at my student. Togawa-san holding my underwear, the repeated mention of using the bathroom—it's all too much! A snapping sound echoes in my head. My mind reaches its limit, breaking, calming instead. My body leans awkwardly to the right. With a weak eyeball shift, I confirm the bruises on my shin, resembling deep sea marks. There are two or three dark reefs there. Ah, I see. For the first time in my life, without hesitation or conflict, I bow deeply to the ground. "I'm sorry!" "It's okay, it's okay. You were cute when you cried and clung to me like that," my student reassures me with a gentle smile. "I really want to die." "No, you mustn't. And for now, let’s put your underwear back on." "Ah… gosh…....ah" I was so pathetic I couldn't find the words to describe it. Half-crying, I take the freshly washed underwear and put it back on. I can't believe my student had to wash even my underwear. The thought of this makes me want to throw up. The slight drop in airflow around my lower half almost makes me collapse in tears. When I turn, I notice Togawa-san, uncharacteristically expressionless. She focuses intently on me. "Togawa-san?" "Oh… never mind that. Let’s talk downstairs." Her gentle smile returns as she briskly leaves the room. Something feels off, but I lack the energy to investigate further. Letting out a groan akin to a zombie, I clumsily exit the room. Naturally, the hallway is unfamiliar. Though I’ve visited Togawa-san's home, I haven’t seen the second floor. I wish I could die. I nearly float down the stairs, flabbergasted I don’t fall. Wishing for death seems silly when I reach the house clearly being Togawa-san’s. Staying over without notifying my spouse—a mistake washed over by the morning light. A deep-seated embarrassment ties my stomach in knots and threatens to spill over. "Teeheeheeheehee." "Scary..." Laughter is my only option when facing this nightmarish reality. Without it, my heart would wither. Facing each other across the living room kotatsu table, a disheartened teacher who couldn’t manage even basic needs, and a student with a winning smile sit together. Typically, I should serve as a model in teaching students both classes and life, but my actions resemble societal waste. "I'm a lousy excuse for a human, sorry." "...Sensei, you haven’t done anything you need to apologize for." I have, though. "Being drunk at a hostess club, blacking out, relying on a student’s help, and coming back in the morning… It’s giving me a headache." Headaches assaulted me from every conceivable direction. What am I supposed to tell my husband? Sleeping in my suit has left it creased beyond excuse. Stray hair scatters across my vision, and I lack the energy to smooth it back. I woke up more exhausted than restful. "A hostess club isn’t a good idea, Togawa-san." "Looking at you, I’m starting to agree." "It's not the hostess club that's the problem — it’s just me..." I cradle my head in despair, tears threatening to spill from sheer embarrassment. There’s no one to comfort those tears, so I wipe them away roughly with my own arm. Watching me cry from the outset, Togawa-san offers a sheepish grin. "These things happen, Sensei." "Do they really!? Does everyone experience something like this!?" Do all teachers rely on their students to help them with their clothing in the bathroom!? "Maybe not." Togawa-san retracts her hand wisely. Quite correctly. I might have inadvertently taught that being a teacher doesn’t require basic functional independence. "Aaaaugh." "Sensei, please stop scaring me." "I'm sorry..." Lacking the will to continue, I slump facedown on the table. The table’s coolness feels comforting against my cheek. My headache feels like it's being hammered from above. If my head would just crush under the pressure, maybe I’d find relief. "You were drunk, so it couldn’t be helped, right?" Out of pity for the useless vessel before her, Togawa-san attempts to reassure me. Despite her words, I see no escape route through the tears clouding my vision. Perhaps, this is what people mean when I’m called earnest. Resting my arms on the table, I lift my face, refusing to lose sight of myself. "Even if I'm drunk, what's not inside me won't come out." "Eh?" "Even if I'm not conscious of it... everything I do, everything I say... is all my true feelings." What I don't have cannot come into being under any circumstances. I couldn't use alcohol as an excuse to escape from it.