Hiroto Tachibana followed Shizuka Hiratsuka into the office.
Hiratsuka flopped into her swivel chair, leaned back, and crossed her legs.
The unlit cigarette in her hand spun a couple of times between her fingers.
”Sit.”
Hiroto obediently sat on the neighboring chair.
”Speak,” Hiratsuka said, looking at him.
”During class today, a teacher reported that you were buried in your own writing the entire time.
I don’t care if you want to write things, but can you at least pay a bit of attention to how it looks?”
”Writing so brazenly makes the other teachers feel like they have absolutely no dignity.”
”Yes, yes, yes, you are completely right, Sensei.” Hiroto nodded like a woodpecker, his attitude exceptionally sincere.
”I will definitely pay attention in the future and won’t write things during class anymore.”
Hiratsuka narrowed her eyes at him.
This was already the fourth time.
Every single time, he wore this exact expression—admitting his faults more eagerly than anyone else, maintaining an attitude so flawless that you couldn’t even pick out a mistake.
And then he would commit the exact same offense next time.
He understands the mistake, admits the mistake, but dares to do it again next time.
Hiratsuka clenched her fist, resisting the urge to punch him.
”Forget it,” she took a deep breath, changing the subject.
”The school has a regulation that every student must join a club unless there are exceptional circumstances.
Your status is still pending even now.
Have you thought about which one to join?”
”Sensei, I have already helped you endure this status for half a year.”
”So, I’ll have to trouble you to be a good person to the very end and help me endure it for another two and a half years,” Hiroto said with a face full of sincerity.
”You brat, couldn’t you show me a little actual gratitude?!”
”Gratitude, gratitude, immense gratitude,” Hiroto spoke without changing his expression.
“Straight from the bottom of my heart.”
Hiratsuka stared at him for a few seconds, ultimately too lazy to argue with him.
”Also,” she pointed at Hiroto’s phone, “what exactly is it that you’re writing during class?
A novel?”
”Yeah, a light novel.”
”Oh, not bad.” Hiratsuka raised an eyebrow.
“Starting to write novels at this age?
What genre?”
”School romance.”
”Really?
I prefer classic, hot-blooded shonen stuff.”
”I didn’t ask what you prefer, Hiratsuka-sensei.”
Hiratsuka glared at him, and Hiroto tactfully shut his mouth.
Leaning against the back of her chair, Hiratsuka looked at the student in front of her.
She knew the general gist of Hiroto’s situation—the sudden family misfortune, his parents returning to the mainland, and him staying here all by himself.
To be honest, she couldn’t understand why Hiroto was pushing himself so hard.
Because the mainland had unified everything, the laws over here couldn’t simply be applied over there.
In other words, if you owed a debt over here and returned to the mainland, you didn’t have to pay it back.
Hiroto could completely just pack up and leave.
But he didn’t leave.
He insisted on shouldering it all on his own.
Hiratsuka admitted that she admired this kind of character.
She had also observed him for half a year.
When this guy first entered this school, his grades ranked third in the entire year.
But afterward, they got worse and worse, and now they were on the verge of sliding down to the middle tier.
She knew the reason—staying up late to write novels, having no energy during the day, a vicious cycle.
She didn’t want to watch such a good student ruin himself like this.
”I’ll start by offering an apology here,” Hiratsuka suddenly spoke up.
Hiroto froze for a moment.
“An apology won’t be necessary.
Although I don’t know what wrong you committed, how about you lend me some money first?”
Hiratsuka was amused to the point of anger by his response, truly left a bit speechless.
”What kind of logic is it for a teacher to lend you money?” she said testily.
“I’ll treat you to dinner tonight.
Or if you don’t have money to eat, you can tell me.
Don’t force yourself to endure it alone.”
”Well alright then, seeing how sincere Sensei’s attitude is in admitting her fault, I forgive you.”
”If you feel guilty, go ahead and treat me to lunch too!” Hiroto said.
He knew Hiratsuka’s personality well, so he didn’t read too much into it.
”Is that so?
Well, thank you very much!” Hiratsuka-sensei said.
”I said sorry because I requested someone to observe you.”
”Observe me?”
”Yes.
A person with a…
somewhat twisted personality,” Hiratsuka weighed her choice of words.
”Right now, she is about to establish a club—a club whose core tenet is ‘helping others’.”
She watched Hiroto’s reaction.
”In that sense, you count as her very first club assignment.
Though the club hasn’t formally been established yet, and she is currently the only member.”
”Strange, isn’t it?”
Hiroto thought about it.
”It is indeed very strange,” he said.
In his heart, he actually already had a pretty good idea of who it was.
He didn’t even need to think to know.
Just as the words left his mouth—
Knock, knock.
The open office door was tapped twice.
Both of them turned their heads at the same time.
Standing at the entrance was a girl with a cold, clear countenance, a detached aura, and even a slight touch of austerity: Yukinoshita Yukino.
”Taking the lead to speak ill of someone behind their back is hardly the conduct becoming of a teacher.”
Hiroto guessed it would be her.
Fortunately, he had lived two lives and was a transmigrator.
Otherwise, just because she stared at him every day during class, he might have assumed she liked him, falling prey to one of the three great delusions of life.
Yukinoshita Yukino walked into the office and stood before the two of them.
She looked at Hiratsuka Shizuka first.
“Hiratsuka-sensei, the act of commissioning someone to observe a student is inherently problematic.
Furthermore, describing someone as having a ‘twisted personality’ right in front of the party involved is not the behavior or speech an educator should possess.”
Hiratsuka rubbed her nose and remained quiet.
Yukinoshita then turned toward Hiroto.
“As for Tachibana-kun, knowing that Hiratsuka-sensei was in the wrong yet still following her lead and chiming in—such behavior is equally inappropriate.”
Hearing this, Hiroto wasn’t surprised.
This was the Yukinoshita he was familiar with.
Direct, blunt, and completely impartial.
She spared absolutely no one.
”Are you finished speaking?” Hiroto looked at her.
”Since that’s the case, why don’t you point out what shortcomings I have in your eyes as well, all in one go.”
Yukinoshita Yukino cast a glance at him.
Without declining, she spoke up directly.
”Disregarding discipline during class, and a disheveled appearance.”
”Furthermore, clearly facing difficulties yet choosing to stubbornly shoulder it all alone.
That is hardly something to be proud of.”
Hiroto listened to it all with a perfectly calm face.
Yukinoshita Yukino was somewhat surprised.
She originally thought the other party would feel at least a bit uncomfortable or offer a few words of rebuttal.
Yet Hiroto just listened like that, no emotional fluctuations visible on his face.
To be able to accept someone pointing out his own shortcomings so calmly…
In her heart, Yukinoshita silently thought a bit more highly of him.
”Are you finished speaking?” Hiroto asked.
”I am finished.”
”Then I have a request.”
Yukinoshita looked at him.
”Yukinoshita-san, observing me?
How exactly are you observing?”
Yukinoshita seemed to have anticipated long ago that he would ask this.
She pulled out a notebook and handed it over.
”May I take a look?”
”Of course.”
Hiratsuka sat to the side, watching this scene with great interest.
These two were truly interesting.
But in the next second, the expressions of both individuals changed.
Hiroto accepted the notebook but did not open it.
Holding it in his hand, he lifted his head to look at Yukinoshita Yukino, who stood before him, looking down from a superior height.
”Yukinoshita-san,” he spoke, his tone neither rushed nor slow.
”Do you know what kind of behavior it is to privately log someone else’s information without their explicit permission?”
The office fell deathly quiet for a split second.
The casual, spectating smile on Hiratsuka’s face instantly froze.
It seemed…
she could no longer laugh.