Why the Hell are You Here, Teacher!? — Monologue of the Shadow Operator
Sanshokuin Sumireko is invisible. The plain library committee member with thick glasses and a braid—too pretty to approach, too quiet to notice, alone since middle school. She's spent three years perfecting the art of being unremarkable, and she has exactly one hobby: watching Kisaragi Amatsuyu.
She knows his gentle smile is a fabrication. She knows the kind, pure-hearted boy everyone adores is a mask for a cunning, calculating schemer who rains silent curses on his childhood friend even as he
Why the Hell are You Here, Teacher!? — Monologue of the Shadow Operator - The Observer's Garden — From the Library Window
The library after school was quiet enough that time itself seemed to have stopped.
From beyond the windows came the distant shouts of the sports clubs. The thwock of tennis rallies, the sharp crack of baseball bats. All of it was swallowed by the thick walls before it could stir the air in this room.
Sanshokuin Sumireko sat in her usual spot—second row from the windows, first floor of the main building. Her eyes were fixed on an open book. Her thick, square-framed black glasses cast a shadow across the page. Her black hair, woven into a braid, coiled tightly against her shoulder. A long navy skirt that fell twenty centimeters below the knee hung quietly along the chair legs.
To anyone watching, she was just a plain, unremarkable library committee member.
That was the perfect mask she had spent three years building at this school.
(He'll come again today.)
Sumireko glanced past the edge of her book toward the back of the school building. From this seat in the library, she could see both the main flow of traffic through the courtyard and the little corner behind the school. It was the only observation point she'd found after dozens of attempts.
Behind the school, two figures stood.
One was a petite girl with a bright chestnut ponytail swaying behind her. Hinata Aoi. The ace of the tennis club, and the most popular girl in the class next to Sumireko's. Her large amber eyes always looked straight at whoever she was facing. Right now, those eyes were fixed on the boy in front of her.
The other was a boy with sleep-tousled black hair. Kisaragi Amatsuyu.
Sumireko's gaze traced his outline. Five-foot-eight. Gentle brown eyes. A harmless, unreliable smile.
But Sumireko knew.
Exactly how elaborately that smile had been fabricated.
"Jo-ro! You skipped club again, didn't you!"
Himawari's voice carried through the window. A crisp smack rang out—the sound of her open palm striking Amatsuyu's upper arm. Her greetings were always like this. A slap on a good day, a tackle on a bad one.
"Ow—! Hey, Himawari, that hurts! I didn't skip, today I had committee duty, so—"
Amatsuyu let out a pathetic yelp, rubbing his arm and furrowing his brow in a show of helplessness.
(...That's his public face for today.)
Sumireko's finger traced the page as she recorded it in her mind.
[Observation Log — September, After School]
[Subject: Kisaragi Amatsuyu]
[Situation: Received customary greeting (open-palm slap) from childhood friend Hinata Aoi]
[Surface reaction: In pain, confused, apologizes with pure-hearted sincerity]
[Estimated inner thoughts: What a pain, that hurt, let me go already, should I make her jump rope with that ponytail]
She could tell. The way Amatsuyu's mouth had twitched, just for an instant. The way his fingers had clenched inside his uniform pocket.
Inside his head, Amatsuyu was raining curses on Himawari.
"Honestly, you're hopeless. You better show up properly next time, okay? I can't get into my rhythm without you, Jo-ro."
Himawari laughed. A smile as bright as a sunflower. She genuinely cared about Amatsuyu as her childhood friend. But that "caring" wasn't quite the shape Amatsuyu wanted it to be.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll do my best."
Amatsuyu returned a wry smile.
("I'll do my best" my foot.)
Sumireko muttered inwardly.
(Right now, he's thinking: "Like hell I have time to play along with your mood swings. I've got plans to go see San-chan and maybe run into Cosmos-senpai if I'm lucky. Don't get in my way.")
Amatsuyu's gaze flicked, just for a moment, to the school clock. Those were the eyes of someone checking his next appointment. Calculating time beneath his smile so Himawari wouldn't notice.
Sumireko never missed those tiny gestures.
She quietly opened the notebook on her lap. Nothing was written on the cover. But inside was everything from a year and a half of observation.
Amatsuyu's behavioral patterns. His social circle. His verbal tics. The way he lied. The angle of his eyes when he laughed for real.
And all the insults he had ever hurled inside his head.
Sumireko turned the page.
[Kisaragi Amatsuyu — Weaknesses]
[• Weak to pressure. Especially vulnerable to tears from older women and childhood friends]
[• When refusing, always says "I'll do my best" and escapes]
[• Likes sweets. Especially chocolate]
[• Actually allergic to cats (refuses to admit it)]
"...Heh."
A small laugh escaped her.
Every time she saw the cat allergy entry, she remembered. Last month, on the way home, a kitten had tried to cozy up to him and he'd run for his life. He'd been playing the part of "a gentle boy animals love," but his eyes had been bright red and watering.
That time, Sumireko had laughed until her stomach hurt, hidden in the shadows of the school route.
The more she learned about him, the warmer her chest became.
At the same time, it ached, just a little.
Sumireko opened the last page of the notebook.
There, in messy handwriting, was written:
[Today's Kisaragi Amatsuyu: 70 points]
[Deduction reasons: His insults toward Himawari are one-note. Could use more artistry. Also, his fake smile is sloppy. He should craft it more carefully.]
[Bonus reasons: He listened to Himawari all the way through. Even after being slapped on the arm, he didn't yell back. Good boy.]
[Overall: But I still like him.]
She traced the last line with her finger.
"...Like him, huh."
She said it aloud. The words dissolved instantly into the silence of the library.
No one could hear. No one would ever receive them.
Amatsuyu didn't know about Sumireko. No—he knew she existed. The plain library committee member in the same year. The gloomy girl with the thick glasses. He might not even know her name.
That was fine.
(...No. Honestly, it's not fine at all.)
Behind her glasses, Sumireko lowered her eyes.
She had been alone since middle school.
Her looks were too good. Because of that, the girls around her kept their distance. The boys approached her seeing only her appearance.
She hadn't known what a friend even was.
Even in class, she was always alone. During breaks she'd read in the library, or stare out the window from a corner of the classroom. The only time she talked to anyone was when a teacher called on her.
She'd thought those days would go on forever.
Until that day.
Summer of her third year of middle school. The district tournament finals.
Sumireko happened to be passing near the venue. The baseball game had just ended, and middle schoolers in uniforms were crying and laughing.
Among them was one particularly large boy.
Ooga Taiyou. Sumireko's middle school classmate. The ace of the baseball team, popular throughout the school.
He was crying on the mound.
They'd lost. As the ace, he hadn't been able to carry his team to victory. The frustration wouldn't let the tears stop.
The other players were crying too. But no one spoke to Taiyou.
No one knew how to address the ace's tears. That was the mood hanging over the field.
Then it happened.
"...San-chan."
A single boy stood beside Taiyou.
Kisaragi Amatsuyu.
Sumireko knew of him. A dull boy from the same middle school. Not the type to stand out in class. If anything, he was a faint presence—a background character.
But that day, Amatsuyu was different.
"You were amazing out there."
Amatsuyu plopped down beside the crying Taiyou.
"Sure, some people around are laughing. But I was watching your pitches. That last fastball—it was crazy fast."
Taiyou lifted his tear-streaked face.
"...Shut up. Leave me alone."
"Can't do that. We're friends, aren't we."
Amatsuyu patted Taiyou's back, gently.
"Me, I think you're incredible. You're good at baseball, you're good-looking, everyone likes you. Nothing like me. But seeing you care so much about something that you'd cry like this... it made me think, that's really... something."
Taiyou's tears dripped down.
"...What are you even saying, man."
"Shut up. Even I'm embarrassed saying this stuff. But I want to say it, so I'm saying it. You were cool. You lost, but you were cool."
Amatsuyu smiled.
That smile was clumsier and kinder than any Sumireko had ever seen.
Around them, the other players stirred.
"What's that guy doing?"
"Read the room. The ace is crying."
"Wait, is that guy even on the baseball team?"
She heard laughter too.
But Amatsuyu didn't leave Taiyou's side.
Sumireko stood frozen, unable to move.
Deep in her chest, something pulsed violently.
(Ah. I like this person.)
There was no reason.
That smile of Amatsuyu's had simply seized her heart and refused to let go.
After that, Sumireko's observations began.
She investigated Amatsuyu's route to school, recorded his behavioral patterns, analyzed his social circle.
The more she learned, the more fascinating he became.
On the surface, a good-natured, pure-hearted boy. But inside, dark, cunning, and full of desire.
Sumireko was drawn to that gap with all her heart.
"...Kisaragi-kun is interesting again today."
Sumireko closed her notebook.
Outside the window, Amatsuyu waved to Himawari and left the back of the school building. He'd probably head to the student council room, or to San-chan's place.
Sumireko watched his back recede.
(...In this form, he won't give me the time of day.)
She knew that.
Thick glasses. A braid. A long skirt. A chest flattened with binding cloth. A hunched posture.
All of it was a disguise she had chosen herself.
In middle school, her looks had brought her nothing but grief. So in high school, she played the plain girl so no one would notice her.
But because of that, Amatsuyu saw her as nothing more than a plain, unremarkable girl.
(...That's fine. It's what I wanted.)
And yet, somewhere in her heart, she couldn't help thinking:
(If I showed up in front of him as my real self...)
She imagined it, then shook her head.
No. Not yet.
Sumireko pulled her gaze from the window and returned it to her book.
The words on the open page wouldn't enter her head.
(Even so—at the very least.)
She wanted to broaden his world.
Right now, Amatsuyu was being unknowingly used by Himawari and Cosmos. To those two, he was little more than a convenient tool.
According to Sumireko's observations, Amatsuyu hadn't noticed. No—he was pretending not to notice.
Because he liked them both.
(...That does sting, just a little.)
Sumireko gripped the edge of her notebook tightly.
(But what I can do for him isn't standing at his side.)
(What I can do is bring a real friend to his side.)
A real friend for Amatsuyu.
Someone other than Himawari and Cosmos—someone who would truly see him.
And then, someday.
(I want to make him say it: "The only one who likes me is you.")
Inside Sumireko's heart, a small flame flickered.
It was love, and it was obsession, and it was the beginning of her secret war.
"...Time to do this."
Sumireko murmured softly.
The library clock pointed to five in the evening.
Closing time.
Sumireko packed her notebook into her bag and stood.
That was when it happened.
"Oh, Sanshokuin-san, leaving already?"
The one who spoke was the library committee chair, a third-year named Kubota Rei. A gentle upperclassman with glasses.
"Yes. My shift is finished for today."
Sumireko gave a small bow, still hunched.
"I see. Good work. See you tomorrow."
"Yes. Thank you for your time."
Sumireko left the library.
The hallway was dyed orange by the setting sun.
The after-school building was still a little noisy with students heading to clubs and students heading home.
Sumireko walked along the edge of the hallway, avoiding the crowds.
(Now then. How should I approach him?)
In her head, the next plan was already in motion.
Propose a study session to Amatsuyu.
His grades, honestly, weren't good. Especially in the language arts—her strong suit—he was barely scraping by.
Under the pretext of a study session, she could approach him naturally.
(He sees me as nothing but a plain library committee member.)
(So he won't be on guard.)
(He might even find
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