The hallway of Honami Elementary School was filled with silence on that May afternoon. Saya sat in the parent waiting area outside the staff room. A hard wooden chair. On the wall hung a schedule of school events and a printout labeled "This Month's Goals." Several other parents were scattered about, chatting among themselves, but Saya alone had drawn back toward the wall, her hands clasped in her lap. Parent-teacher conferences three times a year. This was her first meeting with the new homeroom teacher. *(What kind of teacher is he?)* When Ren came home on the first day, he'd said the teacher was "weird." Doesn't laugh. Speaks stiffly. That was the extent of his explanation. Saya had tried to imagine what kind of person this teacher was, tracing the contours of her son's words. But her imagination remained vague. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Black slacks. A navy jacket. A man in his mid-thirties walked toward her from the staff room. Black-framed glasses. Short, neatly trimmed black hair. His expression was flat, devoid of any emotional fluctuation. *(This person is...)* "You're Kashii, aren't you? I'm Yuto Sato. I'm Ren's homeroom teacher." A low, measured voice. No smile. He simply stated the fact of his role—there was not the slightest hint of joy in taking on the responsibility. Saya thought, *Ah, so this is what kind of teacher he is.* "It's nice to meet you. Thank you so much for everything you do for him." Saya responded in kind, formal and polite. She stood and bowed slightly. Yuto turned and headed toward the conference room, saying, "This way." Saya followed. The conference room was small. A desk and folding chairs faced each other. Through the window, the cherry trees along the Honami River were visible. Spring's peak had passed; the green had deepened. Yuto sat down quickly, and Saya took the chair across from him. On the table lay Ren's learning records and report card. "Ren has no particular issues with his academics. His reading comprehension in Japanese is among the top in the class. He's especially skilled at grasping the content of narrative texts." Yuto explained in a flat, monotone voice, his eyes on the documents. There was no inflection in his tone. Even as he spoke of Ren's strengths, it didn't sound like praise. "What about math?" Saya asked. "He struggles with geometry. Three-dimensional thinking may take him a bit longer. However, there's a high likelihood of improvement through repetitive practice." He stated only facts. No impressions. No evaluations. "Is he getting along with the other children?" That was the part that concerned Saya most. Was Ren isolated? Was he not fitting in with the class? That parental anxiety was woven into her question. "Ren doesn't belong to any particular group in the class. However, he's not isolated either. He comes to the library to borrow books, asks good questions during lessons. He's not conspicuous, but I'd say he has a presence." His words were polite. Yet Yuto's expressionless face brought confusion to Saya. What did this man really think of her son? What did he see? "Ah, I see..." Saya gave an ambiguous response. Her anxiety was not dispelled. If anything, it had grown. "Ren seems to be... considerate of his mother." Suddenly, Yuto said this. Saya's head snapped up. Behind his glasses, his eyes were looking directly at her now. "I'm sorry...?" "During a lesson, he said, 'I have to help out at home.' In home economics class, when asked 'What do you do in the morning?' Ren answered, 'Help my mom. Laundry, folding things.'" Saya's throat moved faintly. "Your son is a very considerate child toward his mother. That consideration itself is a good thing, but..." Yuto paused. In that silence, Saya held her breath. "Aren't you pushing yourself too hard, Kashii?" Those words pierced Saya's heart. A single sentence. No embellishment. Yet within that simple question lay a fact she had never believed possible—that her efforts, which she thought no one saw, had been seen. "...I...?" A sound came out. But it was no longer words—just the noise of confusion. "Ren is worried about his mother. But that may be because you're pushing yourself too hard. When a child worries, it's because they can see the burden on the parent's side. For Ren's sake, and for your own, perhaps you could... ease up a little?" Yuto's words hadn't changed. Still expressionless. Still in that low voice. Yet within those words lay genuine observation and deep insight. She had thought no one was watching. She had thought no one cared about her grinding away day after day for Ren's sake. She had simply convinced herself of that on her own. But this teacher—he had been watching. He had read the mother's circumstances from the son's words, understood the situation behind them. "...I'm... fine." Saya tried to respond, but her voice was trembling. She heard it herself. Yuto said nothing. He simply looked at her quietly. There was nothing accusatory in his gaze, nothing evaluative. He had merely conveyed a fact. The conference continued. Other topics. Ren's homework habits. Questions about study routines. Saya answered. But throughout, her heart wavered. The question—*Aren't you pushing yourself too hard?*—repeated itself over and over. "Well, I think that covers it for today. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to contact me anytime." The conference ended. Saya stood from her chair. She felt her legs tremble slightly. "Thank you very much." She said it in a low voice. Yuto nodded. In that moment, for just an instant, his expression seemed to soften. But it might have been Saya's imagination. She left the school building. Descended the stairs. Passed through the courtyard. The sound of her shoes striking the ground. The voices of children on the school route. The spring breeze. Everything reached her ears, yet her consciousness was elsewhere. *Aren't you pushing yourself too hard?* Only those words repeated in her mind, again and again. On the way home. She passed the front of Daily Mart Yonan. Her shift ended here. The distance home. Eight hundred meters to Maison Yonan. Saya walked that distance slowly. She came to the bridge over the Honami River. On the water below, cherry blossoms still floated on the surface. The last traces of spring. Soon the season would shift to early summer. Saya gazed at that flow. *(I was being watched.)* That's what she thought. Somewhere she hadn't noticed, her efforts had been seen by someone. There was a teacher who could read a mother's circumstances from her son's words. It was the first time in Saya's life that such a thing had happened. She arrived at the apartment. On the first floor, the landlady, Setsuko Ando, was tending to the flower bed. "Oh, Saya. You must be tired. How was the conference?" "Ah... yes. It was fine." Saya gave an ambiguous answer. She climbed the stairs. Room 201. Her small room with Ren. She opened the door. Ren's school supplies were on the table. Preparation for tomorrow. Everything as usual. Yet a small crack had formed in Saya's heart. She prepared dinner. Thirty minutes until Ren came home. She took tofu from the refrigerator, began preparing miso soup. Put rice on to cook. All the while, Saya kept recalling Yuto's expressionless face. *(What is that teacher?)* She felt uneasy. Yet at the same time, something new was sprouting within her—a feeling she couldn't yet name. She didn't know what it was. She only knew with certainty that it existed.