The scent of coffee melted into the afternoon light. Nishikata sat by the window, idly flipping through an old paperback of *The Tale of Genji*. It was a Saturday at Café Harbor Bell. The shop was just a short walk from Minatohama Station, tucked away at the edge of the Shiozake Street shopping district. The rich aroma of beans roasted by the owner, Fujiwara Yasuko, filled the entire space. Old photographs of the fishing town adorned the walls, and well-worn siphons lined the wooden counter. Spending weekend afternoons here, preparing his teaching materials, was one of Nishikata's few pleasures. He turned his gaze outside. The faint scent of the sea drifted in from the harbor. In the distance, seagulls cried. *(Next week, huh…)* The student teachers were arriving next week. Three of them this year, apparently. Nishikata was in his second year as a Japanese literature teacher and had been assigned as one of their mentors. Honestly, it weighed on him. He already had his hands full just preparing for his own classes, and now he had to guide inexperienced trainees on top of that. But he couldn't exactly refuse. It was a tradition at his alma mater, after all. Nishikata sighed and returned his gaze to the paperback. A passage about Murasaki. *"Truly, such a person is a rare treasure—"* Difficult. He was racking his brain over how to teach this to high schoolers when— "[gentle]That's the 'Young Murasaki' chapter from *The Tale of Genji*, isn't it?" A voice spoke, and Nishikata looked up. A young woman was standing beside him. How long had she been there? He hadn't noticed her at all. She was gazing intently at the book in his hands, as if it were something quite rare. Her hair was a flaxen, gentle wave that reached her waist. It fell loosely, cascading from her shoulders down her back. Her large eyes, tinged with a deep blue, seemed drowsy and languid. And yet, there was a light in them that seemed to see right through things. She was perhaps around 155 centimeters tall. Petite and slender. A white blouse and a beige cardigan. In her hands, she held a small sketchbook. "Ah, uh… yes, well." Nishikata answered, bewildered. "[gentle]May I sit here?" Without waiting for permission, she settled into the chair across from him. "Oh, go ahead." Nishikata said it, but inwardly he was unsettled. Being approached by a strange woman in a café was not something he had any experience with. She placed her sketchbook on the corner of the table and continued to stare intently at his paperback. As if the book itself were something special. "[surprised]You bought that book at Tsukiyomi-dou, didn't you?" "Huh?" Nishikata exclaimed. Tsukiyomi-dou. Indeed, he had bought this book just last week on Shiozake Street, in front of the station. At a used bookstore, recommended by the owner, Anzai-san. But how could she possibly know that? "Um, how did you…" Houjou smiled quietly. A faint smile, just a slight softening of her mouth. "[gentle]The price stickers from Tsukiyomi-dou are this shape. See, on the bottom right." At her prompting, Nishikata looked at the back cover. Sure enough, a small sticker was affixed there. A round, handmade-looking price tag. But it was something an ordinary person would never notice. Nishikata found himself staring intently at her face. "…You have incredible powers of observation." "[laughing]Not at all. It's just a habit, I suppose." Houjou ordered a coffee. And a slice of lemon pound cake, she added quietly. The owner, Fujiwara-san, took the order with a beaming smile. Seeing Nishikata, a regular, with a young woman for a change, she might have been getting the wrong idea. Houjou turned back to face Nishikata properly. "[gentle]Do you enjoy classical literature?" "Well, it's part of my job…" Nishikata answered honestly. "Your job?" "Yes. Actually, I'm a high school teacher." Houjou's eyes opened just a fraction wider. Even so, the surprise was only the faintest flicker. Immediately, her expression returned to its former drowsy look. "So you're a teacher." She said it as if ruminating on the word, then picked up her coffee cup. She took a sip and set it down slowly. Every one of her movements was quiet. Her voice, her way of speaking, her gestures—all of it was quiet. And yet, her mere presence tightened the air, giving her a compelling presence. Nishikata began to feel as if he were being tested. "[gentle]What kind of teacher are you?" Houjou tilted her head slightly and looked at Nishikata. Her deep blue eyes were fixed directly on him. Nishikata was at a loss for words. He had rarely been asked about his educational philosophy like this. "…Well. I suppose I want my students to be able to read books without giving up." The words came out with a surprising, unexpected honesty. "Classical literature is hard to get into, isn't it? It's an old language, and the culture is different. But what's written there hasn't changed in a thousand years. People worrying, getting lost, falling in love… I'd like them to feel even a little of that." Nishikata scratched his head. Ah, he felt like he was saying something embarrassing. But Houjou didn't laugh. She just stared intently at him. Her gaze was, as before, one that seemed to see right through him. "[gentle]You're a kind teacher, aren't you?" At those words, Nishikata's heart beat just a little faster. What was this feeling? He had been praised. That was all it was, yet for some reason, his heart was restless. "…No, not at all. Ideals and reality are different. I'm too busy to face each student individually, and I can barely keep up with lesson prep. I feel inadequate more often than not." Nishikata confessed honestly. Houjou nodded along to that as well, listening with an "mm-hmm." Her demeanor was strangely calming. Suddenly, Houjou opened the sketchbook in her hands. "[gentle]I was drawing this a little earlier, thinking it might be a bit rude." So saying, she showed him a single sketch. It was a profile of Nishikata. Drawn with only the barest lines. The flow of his hair, the bangs hanging low over his eyes, the serious set of his mouth. Despite the astonishingly few lines, strangely enough, his awkwardness and earnestness seemed to seep through. "Amazing…" Nishikata let the word slip out involuntarily. "[laughing]I'm flattered. Observing people's essence is a hobby of mine, I suppose. A bad habit." She said it with a touch of embarrassment and took a sip of her coffee. "But to capture someone's inner self like that… it's not just observation. It's more, something…" "[gentle]Something?" She tilted her head. That gesture, too, was quiet and picturesque. "…I don't know. But it's a picture that really stays with you." Nishikata said it frankly. Houjou offered a small "thank you" and closed her sketchbook. Then, as if it were an afterthought, she murmured. "[gentle]I'll be under your care at your school starting next week." For a moment, Nishikata was speechless. "…Huh?" "[gentle]I'm Houjou, a student teacher. My subject is art." "Whaaat!?" Nishikata raised his voice. No way. No way was this person one of the student teachers starting next week? "I-I had no idea. I'm sorry, I didn't realize at all." "[laughing]It's fine. I'm sorry too, for keeping quiet even though I noticed first." Houjou said it apologetically, yet somehow with a hint of amusement. "How did you know I was a teacher…" "[gentle]Your face. The staff room photo was in the school's information pamphlet." Now that she mentioned it, that was true. This year's school guide had all the staff's headshots. "And, when I looked closer, I realized you were a senpai from middle school." "Middle school?" "[gentle]Shiomi Junior High. I'm three years below you, Nishikata-san, so I don't know you directly. But you were famous. They said you were always getting called on in Japanese class and struggling." Nishikata felt his face grow hot. She even knew about that past? "…Th-that's embarrassing." Houjou smiled quietly again. "[gentle]It's alright. I'm relieved to see you've become a kind teacher." Then, she placed the money for her coffee and cake on the table and stood up. "[gentle]I'll see you again at school." Clutching her sketchbook, she gave a slight bow. "Ah, yes…" Nishikata saw her off, dumbfounded. The shop door opened and closed. The bell jingled, and after that, it was just the usual quiet café afternoon. Nishikata stared at the sketch left before him. His own profile. A single piece that captured him, with only a few lines, yet unmistakably. Why had she been able to draw a picture that so keenly perceived his essence? And those words, "I'll be under your care." The teaching practicum starting next week. To think their first meeting would take this form. Outside the window, the tranquil streets of Minatohama spread out. The sky was beginning to tinge with orange. From the direction of the harbor, a ferry's whistle echoed in the distance. Nishikata looked at the sketch once more. Houjou… That enigmatic smile and those quiet blue eyes, for some reason, wouldn't leave his mind. His heart was restless. Over the next month, starting next week, something might change. That premonition stirred faintly deep in his chest. Nishikata drained his cold coffee and closed the paperback. "…A student teacher, huh." He murmured quietly and rose from his seat. The owner, Fujiwara-san, beamed at him and said, "Your companion was such a lovely person, wasn't she?" Nishikata denied it, saying, "No, she's a student teacher starting next week," but his face was still a little warm. Stepping outside, the sea breeze felt pleasant. Summer was approaching.