Chapter Seventy-Nine: Scattered Across the Ground

During the lunch break, Tsukasa Aoki had just picked up his lunchbox to heat it up when he caught sight of his homeroom teacher, Kazuo Matsushita, standing hesitantly at the classroom door. Matsushita, who usually went out of his way to avoid him, was wearing an awkward, forced smile. "Um, Aoki, could I trouble you to come with me for a moment?"

Tsukasa hesitated, glancing down at the lunchbox in his hand.

"It’s all right, I can heat your lunch for you. There’s a microwave in the staff room," Matsushita offered considerately.

Tsukasa sighed. "All right, I understand."

With that, he walked over to Matsushita, frowning slightly. "May I ask what you need from me so suddenly, Sensei?"

Matsushita swallowed hard, his smile trembling. "It’s nothing urgent, really. I just thought we should communicate a bit more, since it’s been quite a while since you transferred here."

Tsukasa considered this. As far as he knew, he hadn’t done anything wrong, so he felt no particular anxiety. He nodded. "All right then, thank you for your trouble, Matsushita-sensei."

He… he remembers my name? Is… is this a warning?! Matsushita’s already sparse hair was slicked with nervous sweat, the thin black strands plastered to his forehead like ridiculous seaweed.

Matsushita led Tsukasa into the staff room, looking as if he were wrestling with himself. He went straight to his own desk but didn’t sit down. Instead, he fetched a stool and placed it to the side, inviting Tsukasa to take a seat first.

Several other teachers sat at their desks, eating their lunches. The casual chatter that had filled the room went silent the instant Tsukasa stepped in, as if someone had pressed a mute button.

Unbothered, Tsukasa set his lunchbox on an empty table. Matsushita, moving with surprising agility, darted over, took the lunchbox, and hurried off to put it in the microwave.

Watching those few lonely black hairs flutter as Matsushita dashed away, Tsukasa felt a pang of sympathy. In his previous life, he’d started losing hair in his twenties and knew all too well how painful it was.

Thinking of his own current bald head, and the fact that even after a week there was no sign of stubble on his smooth scalp, Tsukasa felt a hint of panic. Am I really going to be bald for good?

Baldness and shaving your head are not the same thing!

Before Tsukasa could finish wrestling with this thought, Matsushita returned and gingerly took his seat, clearing his throat. "Um, Aoki, have you experienced any trouble in class lately?"

Tsukasa thought it over and answered sincerely, "I don’t think so. The class has a great atmosphere for studying. I do feel we have a lot of self-study periods—if anything, I wish we had even more time for studying."

Matsushita swallowed again, inwardly despairing: Isn’t it because of you that we have so many self-study sessions?

"Uh… are you having any difficulties with your studies? There’s a mock exam in two weeks," Matsushita asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Difficulties?" Tsukasa considered this. "Not really. The coursework is actually getting easier for me. I hope you can make it a bit more challenging."

"Oh, and if you could hand out more practice tests, or maybe give us a workbook, that would be even better," Tsukasa added, his honesty unvarnished. As his study skills approached Level Four, the first-year curriculum had become almost child’s play; he figured that once he broke through to Level Four, he could ignore the basics altogether. As for wanting more practice sheets—well, they gave more experience points than regular classwork.

Matsushita began to wonder if he was hearing things. These words hardly sounded like they belonged to someone with Tsukasa’s appearance!

He coughed, momentarily at a loss for how to continue the conversation. He’d been instructed by the administration to warn Tsukasa, but Tsukasa’s answers had completely thrown him off. How was he supposed to steer things back? Was he really supposed to tell someone so eager to learn not to cause trouble? Wouldn’t that be too abrupt?

"Um, um…" Matsushita hesitated, then caught sight of Eiro Fujii, the English teacher, whose hair was slicked neatly to one side with gel, glasses perched on his nose, and shirt immaculately pressed. Overjoyed, Matsushita seized his chance: "Fujii-sensei! Could you have a chat with Aoki for a moment? I’ll go check on the lunches!"

You were there this morning when the principal spoke to me—don’t pretend you don’t know anything! Matsushita glanced at Fujii, feeling the faintest twinge of guilt—barely enough to cover a fingernail, really.

Fujii nearly spilled his teacup, cold sweat beading on his brow.

He set his teacup down, trying desperately to maintain a teacher’s dignity, but when Tsukasa squinted in his direction, Fujii went rigid, completely thrown off balance.

Why is he squinting at me? Did I do something to upset him? Fujii swallowed hard.

Tsukasa rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t missed a single class that morning, terrified no one would wake him up again. He was so tired, he could barely keep his eyes open.

I can’t take it anymore. I need a nap this afternoon, or I’ll have no energy for boxing practice tonight.

He yawned.

Fujii’s cold sweat intensified: He’s probably bored waiting for me to speak. But what should I say? What should I say? I’m doomed!

"Matsushita-sensei! I suddenly have a stomachache, could you take over?" Fujii leapt to his feet, looking at Matsushita.

Startled, Matsushita jerked, and the lunchbox he’d just pulled from the microwave slipped from his grasp.

With a sharp crack, it hit the floor.

Its contents scattered everywhere.