1.17 - 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 17 "Oh, still lovey-dovey today, I see~." As I passed by a group of girls from another class, their teasing remarks caused a slight blush to creep up my cheeks. It was during lunch break at school. I had accepted an invitation to play catch again today, but still wasn’t accustomed to holding hands with Togawa-san as we moved. "If you’re going to get involved with a student, at least do it a bit more discreetly, teach." "Don't be ridiculous." "It's mutual, hands and all." Togawa-san raised our clasped hands with a cheerful laugh. "You really shouldn’t say things that could be misconstrued." "We'll run out of time, Sensei, let's hurry." As Togawa-san took off, I found myself rushing down the hall in a flurry to keep up with her. "We're not supposed to run in the hallways." "Oh, right, that's a rule, isn't it?" Completely indifferent to both the rule and the glances from those around us, Togawa-san races ahead, leaving me feeling scattered and distracted. A teacher and a student holding hands within the school—this is bound to become the talk of the town. Being openly teased by students is manageable, but who knows what’s being said behind my back. Should such rumors reach the parents through the students, it would undoubtedly create a problem. It certainly would. But Togawa-san's happiness in holding my hand leaves me indifferent to the risks. If I were a male teacher, this would be treated as an issue immediately. Dismissal, disciplinary termination, or being labeled a criminal—unsavory words would come thick and fast without any way to escape. Similarly, if Togawa-san were a boy, the situation wouldn't change. It’s only because we’re both female that this teacher-student interaction gets dismissed as a joke, narrowly slipping through the cracks of social norms. I sense some sort of gap. Perhaps this is a relationship that exploits those gaps. I contemplated these things as we made our way onto the sports ground. "Can we stop holding hands in school?" I suggested once Togawa-san had let go. She looked up at me, still smiling as she squeezed a ball. "Would that bother you, Sensei?" "It's not that it bothers me, exactly... it's just weird, strange perhaps." The resistance to betraying her feelings grows stronger every day. When faced with confronting her, I feel as if I’m missing air, suffocating. Is it really this profound, facing a student ten years my junior? Am I reaching towards the core and not just skimming the surface? Togawa-san tosses the ball to me gently, breaking the silence. I catch it in my glove, returning it with equal gentleness. I can feel my pitching motion gradually becoming more fluid. "If Sensei doesn't like it, I'll stop." "I'm not saying I dislike it." The denial slipped out quickly. There’s no way I could dislike touching Togawa-san. My spirit rebelled, leaping faster than my body. The promptness of my response had me breaking into a cold sweat after. "If strange rumors start, wouldn’t that be bad for you too, Togawa-san?" "What kind of strange rumors?" Recently, she's been throwing the ball with less hesitation, the speed picking up, but I’ve gotten better at catching it too. When I manage to catch the ball head-on without retreating, it feels like a small victory. The light impact on my palm unexpectedly feels pleasant. "Like... a teacher and student holding hands..." That’s something that should never be. At least, my common sense dictates this. Scandal. The unsettling word lurks ominously. I'd hoped to avoid such things entirely. Togawa-san catches the ball and lifts her glove near her face, grinning widely. "You mean, people saying I'm cheating with Sensei?" I felt an involuntary twitch in my ears. "Don't say reckless things like that." "I would be happy if people thought we’re close." Those words pressed against my throat more forcefully than any ball. Which made me bungle the next catch. Chasing after the ball after deflecting it off the edge of my glove, I picked it up with unease. Gripping it tightly, I tried to seal away my feelings, then turned back to face her. Togawa-san waited cheerfully, glove raised high. Despite my worries and confusion, I found myself drawn to her smile. Even when heading back to the school building after playing catch, eventually, we end up holding hands again. After all, Togawa-san just runs up beside me and takes my hand. "Are we close?" "…Yeah, we are." It shouldn’t be this way, yet if Togawa-san doesn't have any negative feelings, maybe it’s okay, and I find myself accepting it. It’s painful to walk with my head held high or to look down and see our clasped hands, both equally agonizing. Though it's painful, I continue to choose this place without hiding. "So in love~" Togawa-san teases, her voice and footsteps bouncing with her playfulness. "…Love is…" My voice falters. What am I trying to see beyond this suffocating relationship with Togawa Rin? What am I desiring? Once I find out, I might be at the bottom of a sea from which I can never resurface. By the time I realized it, I was at the center of a whirlpool, being tossed around. The whirlpool was a dark purple, so intense it made me feel nauseous just watching it. Even while spinning around, I could see another whirlpool forming, the ringing in my ears growing louder. I desperately grasped for something as if trying to hold onto anything, and as an unfamiliar scent enveloped me, my awareness snapped back. It was as if I physically felt my eyes open wide. The pillow my face was buried in carried a faintly familiar scent—something known but not yet fully familiar. Then a stronger scent attacked my senses; it was my own breath. The headache that arose from inhaling it completely woke me up. I was lying in an unfamiliar room, on an unfamiliar bed. As I tried to jump up, a dull pain struck my head as if I’d hit it against the ceiling. But the pain was internal, not external. What I had been clutching was a futon. I was hugging an unfamiliar patterned futon tightly as if it were a treasure. I didn’t recognize the closed curtains or the walls at all. At this point, it would make sense if I’d been switched with someone else entirely, but the slightly numb fingertips confirmed I was still myself. The ring on my finger reassured me. The sliding doors which seemed to be a closet at the back of the room, with their depicted night view and old bridge, seemed like something I'd seen in a dream at some point. Unknown, unknown, unknown... it felt like I’d been tossed onto a beach paved with unfamiliar stones or sand, filled with confusion and undulating waves. My head felt unbearably heavy. It hurt. Every tiny movement of my eyeballs reverberated deep within my skull. This rippling sensation that distorts even my outline—could this be... A hangover? Though I wasn’t nauseous or feeling anything in my stomach, the headache and the instability were severe. I didn’t have the mental space to confront my anxiety about being in an unknown place. It seemed I had fallen asleep without changing clothes, as the suit from last night was wrinkled from sleeping in it. My hair hung over me, tousled from neglect. Holding my forehead to endure the headache, the door opened. "Oh, Sensei. Good morning." "Togawa-san... Togawa-san!?" Togawa-san peeked into the room, wearing what seemed like pajamas—a shirt and shorts. Why is Togawa-san at my place? The confusion in my mind only deepened the dull pain in my head. Togawa-san also looked like she had just woken up, her hair sticking out in all directions from sleep. "This is my house, my room, my bed."