Chapter 23: The Melancholy of a New Teacher
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 23: The Melancholy of a New Teacher
The eventful weekend passed, and just like that, Monday arrived.
When I opened the back door and entered the classroom of 2-B, the seat by the window was empty.
It seemed the protagonist, Sakamoto Ryuji, hadn't come to school yet.
"Hey."
As I casually dropped my bag and sat down, Satoru, who sat in front of me, struck up a conversation.
"Did you hear? There was that delinquent duo from the first year, the ones making a name for themselves. Apparently, they suddenly filed for a school transfer this morning."
"From the first year?"
"Yeah. I don't know the details, but after going out for a bit over the weekend, they came home, locked themselves in their rooms, and threw a tantrum about not wanting to go to school."
I had a good idea what happened, but I pretended not to know and listened to Satoru.
"Their parents suspected school violence and came to the faculty office this morning to raise hell, but that's ridiculous. I heard they eventually went home, fuming."
"There must be a reason. A reason those guys can't talk about."
"Probably, right? If their conduct was always bad, they must have made plenty of enemies."
Satoru concluded with a shrug.
Thinking it was just them reaping what they sowed, I opened the latest issue of Jump I'd bought at the convenience store this morning.
*
First period on Monday morning was Practical English.
It was taught by our class's assistant homeroom teacher, Ms. Mizuki Nanae, and it was popular because she focused on basic English conversation rather than grammar.
Considering there are people who study English for over ten years through elementary, middle, and high school but still can't manage a single proper sentence when they meet a foreigner, it was a very practical class.
"Which of this and this is cheaper?"
She would say the line first with fluent pronunciation, and the students would repeat after her.
"Left apples are $ 5 cheaper than right bananas"
In the middle of class, I gently shook the shoulder of Rika, who was sound asleep with a book propped up in front of her.
Rika shot her head up.
"What is it, Ryu-chan?"
"The teacher was just looking at you."
Rika frantically wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth, then opened to the page I showed her and started repeating the lines like a parrot.
Only then did the teacher's gaze move away.
After they finished reading one English passage, Ms. Mizuki looked around the class.
"Alright... since today is the 24th, how about the person sitting behind number 24 read the next passage?"
Number 24 in our class was Momochi Satoru.
And the person behind him was me.
"That would be me."
I was flustered by the unexpected call, but I feigned composure as I picked up my textbook and stood.
Drrrk!
Naturally, all eyes turned to me.
Since I sat in the very back of the class, some students even turned around in their seats.
I turned the page and began to read the English passage.
"I'm James from England. I came to experience Japanese culture. Can you recommend a good place?"
Immediately after, Ms. Mizuki hit me with a surprise question.
"Th-then, what would be a suitable answer for this?"
I hesitated for a moment, but then I improvised, combining words in my head.
"I personally recommend Osaka because it is a place that is visited by many foreigners and has abundant tourism resources such as Kyoto, Nara, and Kobe."
The classroom fell silent for a moment.
A beat later, Ms. Mizuki hurriedly started clapping and said,
"Excellent! That was a perfect answer!"
The rest of the class responded by joining in the applause.
I gave a slight bow and sat back down.
After that, Ms. Mizuki continued the lesson for about ten more minutes before the bell for break time rang, ending the class.
Hmm. History is next, I think.
The assistant homeroom teacher and the homeroom teacher back-to-back for first and second period. I don't know who made this schedule, but I can feel the malice.
*
Mizuki Nanae was a fresh-faced new teacher, turning 24 this year.
Right after graduating from a regional teacher's college, she had moved to Tokyo with big dreams and immediately landed a job here, at Ichijo Academy.
It was a well-known school within the city with a high deviation score, and since it had only been six years since she herself had graduated from high school, she enjoyed the strange sense of nostalgia.
"It's a pleasure to meet you! My name is Mizuki Nanae!"
She would never forget the day she first introduced herself to the other teachers in the faculty office.
And the class she was assigned to as an assistant homeroom teacher for the first time.
Naturally, it held a special meaning for her.
She knew that as the years went by, she might get used to welcoming new students and sending off old ones, but for now, they were her one and only class, her one and only students.
However, the new teacher Mizuki, who had been so full of dreams and passion at the beginning of the semester, had run into a major obstacle.
Namely, one of her students was terrifying.
*
Mizuki hated Mondays.
It was her only class with them for the week, but it meant she would inevitably have to make eye contact with that student, who was impossible to miss.
Kim Yoo-Sung, commonly known as 'The Strongest Man at Ichijo Academy'.
His towering height, muscular body, and stoic face made it hard to believe he was a high school student.
He was like a king, born to rule over the weak.
Even if she entered the classroom repeating to herself, You're a teacher, you can't be like this, you have to treat all students equally, that resolve would vanish the moment their eyes met.
To make matters worse, ominous rumors about him circulated—that he was the heir to the End-of-century Assassination Art, that he'd fought a Bōsōzoku gang 50-to-1, that he was a promising talent coveted by the Yakuza.
She had even tried consulting the class's homeroom teacher, Mr. Matsuda, about this, but he had avoided her gaze and said,
'Give up on that one. Even I've given up on guiding him.'
A problem child so difficult that even the man in charge of student discipline for the second years—a man with a fiery temper, a face like a tiger, and the body of a gorilla—had given up on him.
This only made her fear Kim Yoo-Sung even more.
And then, the incident happened without any warning.
*
Monday, April 24th, first period.
The usual Practical English class was underway.
Mizuki was pacing back and forth in front of the teacher's desk, reading the English passage aloud, trying her best to avoid making eye contact with Kim Yoo-Sung.
"Which of this and this is cheaper?"
When she led the chant, the children would follow along earnestly, even if their pronunciation was clumsy.
Feeling a sense of pride, she read the next sentence.
"Left apples are $ 5 cheaper than right bananas"
As she was in the middle of the lesson, she noticed that Kishimoto, sitting in the back, was sound asleep, her upper body hidden behind a book.
She wanted to go over and wake her up, but she couldn't bring herself to do it because Kishimoto was sitting right next to Kim Yoo-Sung.
So, while reciting the English passage, she kept glancing in their direction, and it seemed Kim Yoo-Sung noticed her gaze.
'Eek! Our eyes met!'
While she was screaming internally in shock, Kim Yoo-Sung unexpectedly woke up the sleeping Kishimoto next to him and had her participate in the lesson.
His action was so different from what she'd expected that Mizuki thought, 'Maybe he's surprisingly nice, unlike the ominous rumors?'
Her internal sense of affinity for Kim Yoo-Sung rose slightly, and gaining a bit of confidence, she decided to proceed with the lesson.
"Alright... since today is the 24th, how about the person sitting behind number 24 read the next passage?"
It was a thoughtless comment she made while looking around the classroom.
But the one who responded to her words was Kim Yoo-Sung.
Drrrk!
The sound of the chair scraping seemed unusually loud.
"That would be me."
Come to think of it, this was the first time she had ever heard his voice.
As he, who far surpassed the average height of a Japanese man, stood up, the gazes of the students naturally shifted to the back of the room.
Holding the textbook in one hand, Kim Yoo-Sung glanced down and read the part she had indicated.
"I'm James from England. I came to experience Japanese culture. Can you recommend a good place?"
'What's with that voice...'
It was a deep, heavy baritone, like the sounding of a ship's horn, and it carried an overwhelming charisma.
Yet his English pronunciation was as fluent as a foreign film actor's, with no noticeable bad habits.
Perhaps it was because he was Korean.
Japanese people grow up exposed to a Japanized version of English from a young age, so even as adults, they find it difficult to break those habits.
"Th-then, what would be a suitable answer for this?"
She had stuttered a little from nervousness, but as she was congratulating herself on asking a good question, Kim Yoo-Sung once again delivered an answer with perfect pronunciation.
"I personally recommend Osaka because it is a place that is visited by many foreigners and has abundant tourism resources such as Kyoto, Nara, and Kobe."
When he finished his answer, a strange silence fell over the entire class.
"Ha."
Mizuki, the first to snap out of it, hurriedly clapped to show her approval.
Only then did Kim Yoo-Sung give a slight bow and sit back down.
Mizuki, who had been momentarily captivated by his voice, shook her head and scolded herself.
'Get a grip, Nanae! You're the teacher, and he's a student!'
To be terrified of him one moment and then swoon just from hearing his voice the next—how foolish.
She whipped herself back to her senses and haphazardly finished the class.
Completely unaware that an even greater trial awaited her two days later.