Tuesday, first period. The morning light of June shone brightly into the classroom of Class 1-3. Outside the window, hydrangeas, damp with rain, swayed their blue and purple petals as if they were heavy. Nishikata stood at the teacher's podium and opened his textbook. Today's material was Ryuunosuke Akutagawa's *Rashoumon*. On the teaching desk lay a teacher's edition textbook covered in sticky notes, along with a memo for the board plan he had rewritten late into the previous night. In the observer seats at the back, Takagi-san, Sanada, and Houjou sat side by side. Their notebooks were open, their serious gazes fixed on the podium. (*I'm nervous...*) Nishikata murmured in his heart. He thought he had gotten used to standing at the podium, but today was different. Takagi-san was watching. The girl who used to tease him from the next seat ten years ago was now observing his class as a student teacher. That gaze felt like it was piercing his back, and the hand holding his textbook trembled just a little. "Alright... so, today we're continuing with *Rashoumon*." Nishikata ran his chalk across the blackboard. The characters for *genin*—the servant—came out tilted slightly to the right. In the observer seats, Takagi-san's shoulders gave a small jolt. (*That handwriting...*) Her memories rewound in an instant, back over a decade. The classroom in her second year of middle school. The characters Nishikata, in the seat next to her, used to write in his notebook. The same slightly crooked letters from back then, when he would doodle on the back of his tests. A warmth spread deep in her chest. Takagi-san pressed her lips tightly together and looked down. Her fingers gripped the fabric of her skirt, squeezing it hard. (*He hasn't changed...*) Nishikata didn't notice Takagi-san's agitation. He began speaking to the thirty-five students sitting before him, beyond the teaching desk. "You can be honest about the servant's feelings. There's no single right answer." The atmosphere in the classroom lightened in an instant. Several students looked up and started talking quietly with their neighbors. At that moment, Sanada, in the observer seats, straightened her back and leaned forward. Her large brown eyes sparkled as they chased Nishikata's every move. "[whispers] Ah..." A sigh of admiration escaped Sanada's lips. (*This person... he actually listens to what the students say.*) Nishikata quietly approached a male student who was looking down at his desk in the very back row. "What do you think? Did the servant do something wrong?" His voice was perfectly gentle. The student looked up and answered something in a small voice. Nishikata caught it, nodded deeply, and then addressed the entire class. "What he just said was—" Nishikata took that small voice, transformed it into his own words, and tossed it back to the whole class. It was as if he had carefully picked up a tiny seed and gently placed it before everyone. Sanada felt a deep, poignant warmth in her chest. (*A teacher like this... really exists...*) In the next seat, Houjou was quietly opening her sketchbook. Her blue eyes slowly traced Nishikata's mouth, the movements of his hands, and the angle of his gaze as he looked at the students. On the memo by her hand, meticulous handwriting lined up: *After posing a question, he takes an average pause of 4.8 seconds. The time it takes for the students' eyes to gather on the instructor. Calculated, or innate?* The moment Nishikata pointed at the blackboard, Houjou saw his unconscious gesture of tucking his hair behind his ear, and quickly captured the figure in the corner of her sketchbook. The habit of brushing back his black hair, the look in his eyes when he was troubled, and that slight movement of his mouth when he was choosing his words. (*An interesting person.*) The corners of Houjou's mouth softened just a little. The lesson reached its midpoint. "Who thinks the servant did something wrong?" When Nishikata asked that, the air in the classroom solidified. No one raised their hand. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. A heavy silence seeped into every corner of the classroom. Nishikata didn't rush; he just quietly looked around the room. (*Whether you can endure this silence... that's what changes the lesson.*) In his heart, Nishikata recalled the words of his mentor from his university days. That was when it happened. In the observer seats, Sanada's right hand twitched. (*Ah... I want to answer!*) Something bubbled up inside Sanada. You could say it was wrong, and you could also say he had no choice. But she had to say something—. Her hand began to rise, slowly but surely. At that instant, Houjou, next to her, gently grabbed Sanada's wrist. "[whispers] ...Student teacher." Just one word. Sanada gasped and pulled her hand back. Her face was bright red. The students in the class noticed the exchange and started to giggle. Nishikata couldn't help but let his expression relax, too. "Ah, even the observing teachers were about to answer for us." A soft wave of laughter spread through the classroom. The oppressive atmosphere from moments ago melted away as if by magic. Then, near the center of the room, one female student raised her hand. "...Yes." "Go ahead." "[gentle] I feel like it was wrong, but... I also think he had no choice." Nishikata smiled warmly. It wasn't the face of that boy from middle school, flustered and frustrated from being teased. It was the deep, warm smile of a teacher. "That's the most honest answer." The moment she heard those words, something inside Takagi-san's heart crumbled with an audible crack. —*Ah, this person... he's already...* He wasn't the clumsy Nishikata-kun from the past, the one she used to tease, the one who was always so frustrated. He had properly become a teacher. The ten years she didn't know about had made him this big. That fact was unbearably painful. Takagi-san dropped her gaze to her notebook. The inner corners of her eyes grew hot. (*Maybe I'm the only one... still stuck ten years ago.*) The lesson ended. The chime rang, and the students stood up. As Nishikata closed his textbook, a few students came up to the teaching desk with questions. From a distance, Takagi-san watched his profile intently. When they stepped out into the hallway, the humid June wind blew through gently. Outside the window, the distant shouts of the soccer club could be heard. Sanada and Houjou leaned against the hallway wall, waiting for Nishikata. Takagi-san stood a little apart from them. Before long, Nishikata came out of the classroom. "You two waited for me." "Yes!" Sanada hopped forward one step, as if bouncing. Her large eyes were still sparkling with the excitement of the lesson. "Sir! That was amazing! I've never seen a lesson like that before! Truly amazing!" "Ah, thanks..." Nishikata scratched behind his ear, looking embarrassed. Then, a mischievous light suddenly flickered in Sanada's eyes. "Hey, sir..." "Hm?" "What do you think of Takagi-sensei?" The air in the hallway froze in an instant. Nishikata's hand stiffened behind his ear. His smile remained plastered on his face, frozen solid. "Huh...?" "Because, I kind of feel like the atmosphere between you two is different." Sanada tilted her head with an innocent look on her face. At that moment—. Around the corner of the hallway, Takagi-san stopped in her tracks. She had turned back to retrieve the lesson plan file she thought she was holding, and her feet halted. She had heard Nishikata's voice. "Eh, no... we were just classmates in middle school, so it's been a while..." The strength drained from Takagi-san's fingers. —*Just classmates.* That's all? The words he couldn't say ten years ago. The words he can't say now, even though he's trying. And yet, he— Just classmates. Nishikata's words didn't continue any further. Silence. That silence decisively broke something inside Takagi-san's heart. (*I knew it.*) (*He wants to keep it as just classmates.*) Without a sound, Takagi-san turned the corner of the hallway and started walking toward the staff room. She held her head high. Her expression no longer crumbled. "So you were classmates!" Sanada leaned in even closer, pressing Nishikata. "That's all it is." Nishikata forced a smile. He had to change the subject. "Was the lesson helpful for you?" "Very much!" The conversation between Sanada and Nishikata bounced lively through the hallway. Only Houjou watched the two of them intently. Her blue eyes were directed toward the corner of the hallway. Toward the direction where a figure had been just moments ago, but was now gone. "...Sir." Houjou quietly opened her mouth. "It seems Takagi-san went back ahead of us." Nishikata turned around with a start. There was no one there anymore. "Huh... when did she..." Nishikata tilted his head. That was all. Houjou let out a small sigh, then paused for a moment as if choosing her words. "[gentle] ...Sir, you sometimes overlook the important things, don't you?" "Huh?" Nishikata stared back at Houjou's face blankly. At that denseness, Houjou pressed her lips into a thin line and said nothing. She just slowly returned her gaze from the corner of the hallway back to Nishikata. Deep within those blue eyes, a quiet light shone, as if she had made a strong resolution. —Meanwhile. Takagi-san had rushed into a stall in the women's restroom near the staff room. She locked the door, closed the toilet lid, and sat down on top of it. Her own face reflected in the mirror looked terribly pathetic. (*Just classmates.*) Nishikata's voice from moments ago repeated over and over in her head. (*It's only natural. Because I couldn't say anything ten years ago.*) (*Now, after all this time, I'm the only one...*) She bit down on her back teeth. She desperately held back the hot surge welling up inside her. Through the restroom's small window, she could see the distant sea. Reflecting the late morning light, the water's surface sparkled dazzlingly. She remembered that seaside park, and the time she walked there with Nishikata for the last time, ten years ago. —*"Take care."* The single word Nishikata had said that day. (*Was that really all he wanted to say back then?*) Takagi-san squeezed her eyes shut. Even so, the tears didn't fall. Instead, something inside her was slowly, but surely, beginning to change.