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

Chapter 2: "Looking Up At The Fallen Star" Part Four "I'm sleepy," my new friend complained after we left the cafe. "I shouldn't have eaten that. It was delicious, though." "It's tough, isn't it, being busy while everyone else is off on holiday?" Hoshi-san laughed with sleepy eyes and then remarked, "You know, Rin is similar to someone." She muttered this while preparing to move the rickshaw she operated. "A bit irresponsible with her own emotions." The comment was so vague it was hard to grasp who she meant Rin was similar to, as if it were a soliloquy that missed its mark. "Well, try not to get too absorbed in it. It's okay if you do, though." "Which is it?" "As for me, I want you to pay attention to Rin. I'm sure she'll be happy." "...Which is it?"I repeated the same question, my curiosity only slightly shifted. With a playful laugh, Hoshi-san walked off with the rickshaw, leaving me with her words. "A Friend, huh..." I found myself surprisingly comfortable with my new friend. Aside from her flippant nature, she had a refreshing feeling like a breeze blowing through the air. In the end, she hadn't accepted the money I had offered to cover my debt. "What can I do with the extra savings?" "…Repent?" I couldn't think of anything else. * * * "Ichi-se... Ichigohara-sensei." Hearing my name called, with a slight correction, I felt a sense of relief at the different voice...but also remembered something else. It was the time between the end of morning homeroom and heading back to the staff room. The person calling me was a student from a different class, though I recognized her from teaching sessions. Her name was... "Mori-san, is something the matter?" Since Mori Kotori was a fairly neat name, it stuck in my memory. It might be rude to say she fits the name, but she is a petite girl with somewhat unruly black hair and strikingly large eyes. Since she is a student I haven't really talked to much, or rather, hardly at all, I struggled to figure out what she wanted. "Um..." She clutched her left arm tightly, seeming hesitant to speak. Even though her gaze was mostly downcast, her eyes were full of determination. It was as if I could hear the rattling noise of her eyes darting around, as I was trying to discern her emotions and what she wanted to talk about. "Is this a topic you don't want others to hear?" She hesitated a moment but nodded slightly. It certainly didn’t seem like it would be a short conversation. "In that case, is lunchtime okay? Can you come to the teachers’ preparation room?" She nodded and then quickly returned to her classroom. I was left to ponder what this could be about, noting that if it were school-related advice, surely she'd approach her homeroom teacher instead. It's hard to imagine someone not wanting others to hear a question about lessons. What could be an issue that only I could address? Despite my continuous pondering, I couldn't figure it out. "Still, among students, it's 'Ichi-sen', huh..." Thinking it sounded like a number, I headed to the staff room, musing about twisting numbers like ten and hundred into something cohesive. As I organized teaching materials, I suddenly remembered, "Oh," about my promise to play catch with Togawa-san. What should I do about lunch break? Perhaps I should ask Mori-san to postpone until after school? Yet, would it be right to prioritize a game of catch over a student's consultation? I hesitated. I am a teacher, after all. But I'm conflicted. There were days when I couldn't do it because I had work to do, but yesterday, I was the one who said I would do it today. If I were to go back on that, Togawa-san would be very disappointed. I was worried she'd be disillusioned. I let out a sigh much deeper than usual. If only I wasn't a teacher, I could easily prioritize Togawa-san. Caught in this contradictory struggle, I felt helpless. Ultimately, after much internal debate, I decided to inform Togawa-san of the cancellation. It was necessary to maintain the bare minimum as a teacher. To be addressed as "Sensei" by Togawa-san. "I'm sorry." "It's okay." Having to say it in front of Togawa-san, who had come running with a smile, as if expecting something special, was more painful than I had imagined. It felt less like my chest was hurting and more like it was being worn down. I could feel my heart withering away. "It's not your fault, not your fault." The words seemed to be directed inwards, as if she were convincing herself rather than consoling me. And it made me feel uneasy, too. I'm overly cautious, worried that Togawa-san would drift away over something so trivial. Just thinking about our relationship returning to the same mundane situation we had at the start of the new semester, where we were barely even in each other's sight despite being in the same classroom, made me so anxious that I nearly leaned forward. "We'll do it tomorrow!" This time, I managed to say it on a day with no schedule conflicts. "Ahaha," Togawa-san said, her cheeks brightening as she seemed to have finally realized what I meant. She ran down the hall and waved her hand widely at me. "Tomorrow's Tuesday, Sensei!" "And so what!" I sighed in relief as Togawa-san happily ran off, laughing cheerfully. If it wasn't just my vanity, her playful gestures and subtle emotional shifts seemed drastically different from her normal smile. Perhaps it was these things that combined to create the glow on her face. "Togawa-san... I really love her.." "No, that's not what I meant," shaking my head, I stopped myself. If I traced it, it would start to seem like I’m the one who’s totally in love... so I hurriedly dispelled the thought. It was all because of what Hoshi-san said yesterday... I'd been holding back and being quiet, but now that she's said it aloud, I can't help but be conscious of it. Togawa-san's special face. Her voice. Everything directed at me. Imagining her addressing anyone else with that same expression makes me pace around, losing my composure... a strong, deep, rigid sense of resistance. Just being separated from her genuine smile might cause my heart to die. That's how much I had lost sight of a life without Togawa Rin. And so, lunch break arrived. Without so much as a knock, Mori-san burst into the teachers' preparation room. Her entrance was so forceful, it left no room for formalities. "Excuse me," she stated without an ounce of courtesy. Though we were not particularly close, the difference in demeanor was jarring compared to Togawa-san's familiar warmth. As soon as Mori-san sat down, she immediately launched into her topic with a directness that felt almost confrontational. "I saw you yesterday, Sensei." "Huh? Uh, I see…?" Caught off guard, I struggled to grasp her point and my reaction came out rather slow. Yesterday... It had been a day off. My heart skipped a beat as panic threatened to settle in. Had I been caught in an awkward situation? My face paled slightly, but then I quickly remembered that I hadn't seen Togawa-san yesterday, which helped quell my nerves. "What do you mean you saw me yesterday?" "You were with Sora." The name slipped from her lips like a stone, pressing down with a weight that made it difficult to determine its significance. "Sora... Oh, you mean Hoshi-san?" Was she referring to the time at the café when we were having tea together? It was quite possible that if anyone knew the conspicuously parked rickshaw out front, they might have peeked inside to see who was there. Given she referred to her as Sora, it suggested a closeness beyond mere acquaintanceship. "Yeah, I owe Hoshi-san a debt of gratitude from before... Just a small favor, really. So I thought I should thank her." "A favor…?" "Let’s not worry about the details." Some things needed to remain unclear, for good reason. But Mori-san's gaze, naturally sharp, had now grown even more intense, bordering on predatory. It was almost humorous, thinking she looked more like a bird of prey than a small bird, until— "Sensei, do you also like women?" "........Eh?" It felt as if I'd been floored by an enormous, outstretched slap from an invisible hand.