1.16 - 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 Sixteen "That's just the kind of person she is, and that's the kind of family it is." Togawa-san seemed resigned to the situation, but verbalizing it broke the illusion, superseding her calm facade with clear feelings of discontent. No matter how accustomed she was, it never filled the emptiness. "Have you ever told your mother you wanted her to come back?" "You're persistent, sensei." Uncharacteristically, Togawa-san's words carried a sharp edge. Her lips twisted in annoyance, and she kept tapping her own ankle with her fingers, a sign of her displeasure. I realized I had overstepped my boundaries. "I'm sorry." "It's fine, really..." But her face said otherwise—none of her features reflected anything close to 'fine.' "But before we change the subject, let me just say one last thing." Her mouth still drawn, Togawa-san fixed her gaze on me. "Wanting to lean on your family isn't something to be ashamed of or wrong about." It's a basic human emotion, inescapable no matter our age. Even if our family dynamics shift, the desire remains. "Okay, I got it," she murmured, averting her eyes and fiddling with the hair hanging by her ear. "Sorry for my attitude." "No, Togawa-san, you have nothing to apologize for." Without any real qualifications, I had attempted to touch the depths of another's heart. "Can we go back to a lighter topic?" "Sure." I couldn't quite recall if the conversation ever was particularly lighthearted, but seeing her soft expression return, I felt a small sense of relief. "Oh, that's right! Sensei, let's play a game," she suggested, leaping onto the sofa, her mood shifting with surprising speed. Perhaps, she too was trying to lighten the atmosphere on purpose. In her subtle kindness, I could see her sensitivity. "I'm not very good at games..." "You know, games aren't just for people who are good at them." As she set up the game console, I watched, blinking excessively. "I see." Somehow, it dawned on me that even if you're not good at something, you can still enjoy it. I had always held back, letting embarrassment cause me to refuse, and that would usually result in the person withdrawing, effectively ending the interaction. That had always been how it went. But today, Togawa-san pulled me in to play. It wasn't quite a revelation, but I found it comforting to simply accept it. I learned something from my student. "Come on, sensei," Togawa-san prompted, patting the sofa beside her. Submerged in this newfound understanding, I joined her. She handed me a controller, and I peered at the screen. "What is this? Everything's all wobbly." "You operate that wobbly little guy." "Hmm..." The game seemed to be about cooperating with Togawa-san's wobbly little character. The goal... was to become even wobblier? "Having such a flexible body is kind of enviable." "Are you stiff, sensei?" "Seems so. I've been thinking that lately." Every now and then, exercise and stretching segments appear on morning TV, and attempting them makes me notice it. It might just be a simple lack of exercise and aging. The game involved cooperating with the challenging-to-control wobbly figures to clear each level. Due to my unfamiliarity with the controls, the frustration of the wobbly feel increased by about 50%. The figures were so weak that even a small misstep led to them collapsing in a heap. "I'm hopelessly stuck! Or am I just getting run over?" Failing my controls, my wobbly figure tumbled and twisted, only to be flattened by the cart Togawa-san brought over. When I protested my fate, Togawa-san laughed, shaking her shoulders, hugging her stomach. I realized through her laughter that this game was about enjoying the absurd. Before truly grasping the game's charm, I found joy in watching Togawa-san's excitement and hearing her laughter. Just like with our games of catch, I was drawn to her infectious enthusiasm. This child seemed to offer me an element of joy. Involving myself with Togawa-san made my heart feel vividly lively and richly fulfilled. Such dynamic stimulation was rare in my late twenties as a teacher, igniting a passionate spark within me. After a while, thoroughly engrossed in the gameplay, I suddenly realized I had lost track of time. Looking up at the old wall clock in the living room told me I needed to leave soon. Togawa-san seemed to notice my realization, as she also paused the game and met my gaze, her eyes shimmering with a hint of loneliness. Meeting her eyes brought on a tinge of guilt. "Sorry." Returning her controller, I apologized. But Togawa-san shook her head vigorously. "There's nothing for you to apologize for, sensei." For some reason, she gently patted my head in reassurance. "Cut it out." I gently brushed her hand aside, which prompted another radiant smile to bloom on her face. "I had fun. Goodnight, sensei." "Goodnight. See you tomorrow at school, then." "We'll play catch again, right?" I chuckled at the suggestion, ideally hoping she'd attend to her studies at school. Despite my fatigue, a profound sense of satisfaction filled me as I headed for the door. I truly enjoyed myself. Watching my husband play from the sidelines is fine, but I was reminded of the joy of playing with someone. Though I had relished it during my student days, I seemed to have forgotten that joy as I grew older. Being with Togawa-san brought those moments of joy rushing back. I mused, perhaps I'm not so grown-up after all, and laughed softly. "You know, sensei," Togawa-san spoke up as I was slipping on my shoes. Turning back, I saw her take a step forward with her right foot. "About my mom and stuff... it was a bit of an unpleasant topic." Her hands moved as if touching an invisible barrier, struggling with her words, yet— "But the fact that you were worrying about me... made me so happy." Togawa-san's cheeks warmed into a soft glow. The corners of her eyes and mouth softened and drooped as if melting away. It was a look that made someone else's joy inevitably become your own. "Keep worrying about me lots from now on!" "Just don't do anything that makes me worry, alright?" "Hahaha!" Faced with her deliberately lighthearted response, all I could do was laugh along with her. "Goodnight." With another farewell, I left Togawa-san's home. The night outside had deepened, and I realized I'd stayed longer than planned. Even the familiar main street appeared disorienting under nightfall, prompting me to mentally map out my route home. Walking briskly, I imagined Togawa-san sitting alone on the sofa, her solitude echoing silently. The thought of her somber expression tugged painfully at my heart. The sense of reluctance tugged at me as well, a feeling that lingered like an unshakable shadow. Perhaps I had become more emotionally involved with Togawa-san than I had realized. No, not perhaps—I had undeniably become entangled. Even without Togawa-san's mother's words, I had stepped beyond the boundaries of a mere teacher-student relationship. Togawa-san was no longer just a pupil; she had become someone significant in her own right. This inversion of the usual order was a profound shift in my consciousness. What Togawa-san's mother said wasn't right. It was nothing more than a smokescreen made up of sophistry. That’s why my opposition and discomfort were not misplaced. Yet, there was some truth to her words. The harsh reality was that Togawa-san's mother, her only family, showed no intention of caring for her daughter. Still, Togawa-san had other people in her life, friends who cared, but even so... I glanced back into the darkness. Despite everything, the thought crept in that perhaps I was the only one she truly had.