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

Chapter Four: Quiet As The Depths of The Earth - Part Seven A mother's struggles, her role, her circumstances. Perhaps it's my naive estimation, unaware of such matters. Yet, I couldn't help but say it. Because I love her. I love Togawa Rin. Love. It's certainly there—love. Sensual love laden with desire. I'd like to scoop her up, both body and soul, as if cupping her in my hands. 'Thank you, naughty mom.' 'I'm not naughty.' But, for instance, if I disregard age and all other factors, and Togawa-san were my daughter, could I honestly say I wouldn't make a move, given my rather low moral standards? Even as a married woman, I'd make a move; whatever the situation, if involved with Togawa Rin, I was certain I couldn’t hold back. Whether she's a daughter or sister, I can't lie about being drawn to her. In other words, perhaps I am doomed to be ruined the moment I encounter Togawa-san in any form. 'I have work tomorrow, so I’ll be heading to bed soon. You should sleep early too, Togawa-san.' Feeling that if I didn’t stop it now, the conversation might continue endlessly, I end it reluctantly. 'Goodnight, sensei. Do your best at work.' 'Goodnight. Make sure to study well.' 'I’ll be good, so come back soon, sensei.' I want to. If it were possible, every day. So long as her wishes and my desires are connected. Togawa-san sends me an image without a word after our farewell. A small gasp, like a raindrop falling and bursting, escaped me. What she sent was a selfie. One with her pajamas open at the front, teasing a glimpse of her chest. Even in an image that isn’t of high resolution, my memory involuntarily brings forth the smoothness of Togawa-san’s skin. "Hey, hey, hey... come on..." In my mind, an emotion is spinning wildly, red. Something red is racing around. The way her eyes are just barely hidden adds an air of, well, allure. Sending me something like this, keeping me from sleep—she really is a naughty girl. More than my sight, my consciousness becomes sharply clear. My back feels restless, as if to protest the bed not being its rightful place. I feel alive. Emotions surge, and I realize that I am living. What I receive from Togawa-san keeps me alive. I should not be saved. Yet, just being with her saves me without effort. That simple, thoughtless heart of mine feels absurd, loathsome, and endearing. I press my forehead against the phone, relying on it, exhaling deeply. Her summer vacation begins soon. Perhaps it may be the last summer of my life too. Such a summer is beginning. The start of summer vacation coincided with my own day off. It was a Saturday. After finishing my usual chores, I went out for a walk with my husband. And then, I caught myself worrying about what would happen if Togawa-san saw us walking together. How ridiculous. Normally, it should be the other way around. Even though I felt as if my head had been replaced with that of another person, my husband didn't seem to notice at all. I, too, walked calmly down the busy street, exchanging idle chatter. Passing by others. Squinting against the summer sun. I felt like an alien hidden among humans. But creatures like that are destined to be defeated in the end. And I, as well. The summer air brushed against my nose as I looked down the street. Despite the intense heat, the number of tourists, especially groups of foreigners, showed no signs of decreasing. Weaving through the crowd, a rickshaw appeared, the epitome of the tourism industry. I froze at the sight of the blonde pulling the rickshaw. "Oh." Our eyes met for a moment. "Hey, sensei!" Quickly looking away, I continued walking. "Sensei... is that you?" My husband identified me by the direction of the voice and gaze. "Yes, but no," I replied, looking the other way. "You ignored them just now, didn’t you? You’re clearly ignoring them!" The sound of the rickshaw wheels grew louder, just out of sight. "It seems to be getting closer." "I'm aware." Since my living area and her working area overlapped too much, there was no way to avoid her completely. A sweaty Hoshi-san slipped in front of us. Her skin had tanned considerably, but her beautiful blonde hair adapted to it all. It was the kind of appeal that enhanced her foreign heritage, inspiring a sense of admiration separate from any personal feelings. There was a undeniable beauty to her smoothness, free of any resistance. "Because you ignored me, I ended up having to run." "Sorry, I didn't notice." "Heh, I kinda like that about you, not hiding things." Thank you. "We often run into each other in this area. Where do you live?" "Near Rokujizo." "Ah, over there... Huh?" Hoshi-san’s gaze drifted to my side. My husband, surprised by the sudden rickshaw appearance, seemed mesmerized, if anything. "...Ah, your husband!" Hoshi-san finally realized, voicing her surprise loudly. Was it really that shocking? "Hello," my husband bowed his head slightly and glanced at me, curious about the connection. "Are you acquaintances? I occasionally see this rickshaw driver," he said. "Hoshi Takasora. A friend, right Sensei?" "I can't definitively deny that aspect." "Maybe you're at an age where admitting it is hard?" she teased, probably younger, mocking lightly. But right after, she brushed it off, "Oh well." "I really wanted to see you, sensei. I wanted to apologize to you in person. Is that okay?" "No need, your feelings have already come through." As I backed away, she swiftly followed me, pressing forward with rickshaw and all. "What did you need to apologize for?" It was a delicate topic to discuss with my husband, as it might lead back to Togawa-san. Including student consultations made it even harder to casually bring up. So with that in mind, I decided to obscure things a bit and simultaneously introduce another matter. "Well, you see, this person took me to a cabaret club." My husband knew about my cabaret experience, so it was okay to reveal it. It was a painful night, separate from infidelity or anything like that. Though I had recently started to forget, the memory of that 'Peeing Sensei' night stung. I suppose I'll be forever haunted by such fleeting memories. ...Though ultimately, it was I who chose to go, and I who picked up the drink. Every twist in the story was my own choice. "Oh, that! …Oh, I've never been to a cabaret club myself." "If you’d like, I can recommend a place?" "Hey now." As a wife, I glared at Hoshi-san. The transparency of her suggestion made me dig my nails into the back of my hand inadvertently. If I didn’t redirect my attention, I felt my head might twist off from stress. "Kind of want to, but not really, yet kind of do." "So it sounds like wanting to go is stronger..." "It's kind of related or not, but can I borrow your wife for a bit? I'll lend you the rickshaw in the meantime." "Seriously!?" "You seem a little too excited." "Sure," Hoshi-san cheerfully handed over the handles... or whatever her responsibility was called, giving up the driver's seat, and my husband took over eagerly. Apparently, he was willing to trade his wife for the chance to try pulling it. "Deal struck. Now, sensei, let's go." Hoshi-san wrapped an arm around my shoulder to ensure I wouldn’t escape. The scene was reminiscent of when we went to the cabaret club. The only difference was her outfit and the scent of sweat. "Can we talk here?" Hoshi-san asked in a hushed tone, as if tapping gently. I glanced at my husband, murmuring about "Oh, wife," and chose to surrender. Leaving him behind, she pulled me along. Thus, sold in place of the rickshaw, I accompanied Hoshi-san to the alley behind a nearby supermarket. The path led towards the station, where foreigners with large backpacks flowed out into the open. Further in, in the dim space between buildings, was an entrance to an old shopping arcade. It tunneled through the ground floor of an adjacent building, forming a U-shape. Far away, the slowly spinning sign pole of a barbershop could be seen. We moved close to the entrance, standing in the shade where Hoshi-san pulled out a towel.