1.25 - 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-Five I realize, albeit belatedly, that my words might have been quite misleading. Yet, it’s true I came to see her, so is it really a misunderstanding? ...Maybe not. "Should I get ready to be hit on?" "I'm not going to. Actually, it's about yesterday... If it's okay with you, would you mind if we talked at your place, Togawa-san?" "Sure!" Togawa-san readily agrees, cheerfully swinging her arms as she starts walking. "Are you sure?" "Wait, you're the one who suggested it, aren't you?" "I just thought maybe Togawa-san might not want to stay at her place too much." Immediately after saying that, I regret speaking on something a teacher shouldn't lightly touch. "Well, sorta, kinda?" Togawa-san brushes it off with ambiguous words and a smile, and continues before I can apologize. "But if it’s with you, sensei, I’ll go home. C'mon, let’s go." Togawa-san takes my hand and interlaces our fingers. Her palms are larger, her fingers longer, easily overtaking mine. Just like the night from before. However, it's different now because it's the daytime, it's Sunday, and we're by the station. There are many people around, not to mention, we could get spotted by students like before. "Sensei, do you want to use these?" Togawa-san pulls out sunglasses from her bag. Is she suggesting I disguise myself? It might provide some comfort, I think, as I receive them and put them on. The world becomes a little calmer, stripped down from its usual brightness. "Oh, those suit you. You look a bit more grown-up." "Just a bit...?" How much of an adult does she usually think I am? Just a tiny bit? And with these sunglasses, how well can I really hide from the world? Togawa-san and I — how do we look to unfamiliar onlookers? Uncertain, I end up gripping Togawa-san’s hand in return. "And it’s my first time seeing you in casual clothes, sensei." "Oh, uh... right." Usually, I wouldn't encounter students on a day off. I definitely wouldn't go see one myself. Thinking back to my student days, running into a teacher on a rare day off wouldn’t have been thrilling. But Togawa-san looks down at me with a pleased expression. "You seem to like the color white, sensei." "Well, that's because... it’s white?" My jacket is. But in truth, I always liked blue more. "Not much skin showing, it’s very you, sensei." "I'm not that young anymore." The days of strutting around town with dazzling legs like Togawa-san’s are long gone. Now, here I am, walking hand in hand with a student. What does this mean? "Honestly, I think I prefer your usual suit." "Haha..." It's probably better to hear that as a teacher, right? "Oh, but I like it when your hair’s down. It changes how you look a lot." "Really...?" "When it’s tied up, you look very much like a teacher." "And when it’s down...?" "A woman." The straightforwardness of that word makes my heart tremble. One small word conjures up a raw, vivid image. "Seeing you all put together, I can only see you in the confines of being a teacher. But as you step slightly out of that, I start to see—ah, sensei is just a regular woman." Is it just me overthinking, or is there a hidden meaning in Togawa-san’s words? The word "woman" lodges itself in my consciousness like a nail. "... If that's the case, I have to make sure I’m seen as a teacher," I reply, unable to mask the awkwardness in my voice. My heart pounds erratically, as if it's risen to my throat. "Do your best, sensei~." It was an encouraging phrase, almost wickedly insightful, as if Togawa-san was watching my futile efforts with amusement. Her happiness spills over into the swing of our arms as we walk. To outsiders, we probably don’t look like a teacher and student. Perhaps we resemble sisters with an age gap or friends with a few years difference. I glance ahead, hand in hand. My student, taller than me, laughs joyfully. Ten years my junior, at least five centimeters taller than me just by appearance... and her attendance number is 21. A student. A child attending the high school where I teach. Yet more than half of her appearance is already adult-like. As I mentally account for the numbers, I become acutely aware of just how low the wall standing between us is. While watching Togawa-san’s brisk walk, I couldn’t help but follow. Accepting the sunglasses proved wise, allowing my gaze to remain unnoticed. My eyes lingered on her energetic, carefree steps. The envy of her well-formed legs... and other feelings in unfamiliar shapes bubbled up within me. Among them, one, embarrassingly transparent, made me ashamed of myself. Circling around town, we eventually arrived back at Togawa-san’s place, as initially intended. We held hands the entire way, and as I pondered when we would let go, she nonchalantly released my hand to start removing her shoes. Frankly, I was relieved since I couldn’t find a good opportunity to let go myself. "Excuse my intrusion." "There’s no one home." "I meant you, Togawa-san." "... Oh." Togawa-san steps inside before me and offers a warm welcome. "Welcome, sensei." Her unguardedly bright smile reminds me of an idol greeting at a handshake event. "Oh, the sunglasses. Thank you." I take them off and hand them back, and she immediately tries them on herself. "How do I look?" With her fingers gently holding the sunglasses’ frame, her cute but somewhat loose eyes are hidden. Her height and well-proportioned figure make the age difference seem reversed. In her school uniform, it’s like looking at a completely different person. Yet if I saw her from a distance in town, I felt like I’d still recognize her as Togawa-san right away. "You look very mature." "Ah, adulthood... indeed it is." She speaks with a curiously old-fashioned phrase. As she moves the sunglasses up to rest on her head, her expression shifts, brightening again. How many faces does Togawa-san have? Each evokes a storm of feelings within me. "Let’s chat a bit. Oh, I’ll listen to what you wanted to talk about at the end, sensei." "The end?" "Because once you tell me, you’ll probably leave." She speaks as if she doesn’t want me to go, stirring up a gritty feeling inside me. Led to the living room, after placing her bag down, Togawa-san eagerly plops onto the sofa, patting the spot next to her with an inviting smile. I hesitate slightly, but take my place beside her. Seated, she naturally intertwines our fingers again, as if it’s just a continuation of our daily life. The closeness, the connection, and the gentle smile create a seemingly extraordinary relationship, putting me as a teacher in a tight spot. Indoors, with no fear of being seen, her grip is sincere, yet the unease closes in on my heart. Is this truly okay—sitting in my student’s home, holding hands, just the two of us? Inside her home, there's no trace of the scent of the sea, one typically present wherever you go in town.