[Sōbu High School, Classroom 2-F]
Although Kato Megumi felt Eriri Spencer Sawamura's "united front" was a bit unreliable, she had already agreed.
Kato Megumi could only go along with it.
At worst, let him bully her.
Moreover—
She secretly glanced at the excited Eriri Spencer Sawamura beside her, and her mouth twitched imperceptibly.
She always felt that Eriri Spencer Sawamura actually quite enjoyed being bullied by a certain someone.
So... am I actually part of Eriri Spencer Sawamura's and his play?
Kato Megumi's mind wandered, drifting like dandelion fluff caught in a spring breeze. The teacher's voice became white noise—something about literary devices, metaphors threading through prose—but none of it stuck. Chalk dust hung in the slant of morning light streaming through tall windows, catching and releasing as students shifted in their seats.
Her gaze involuntarily fell on Hozuki Nozomi in front of her.
The broad line of his shoulders beneath his uniform blazer. The way his dark hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck. How he sat with that infuriatingly casual confidence, one elbow propped on the desk, pen twirling lazily between his fingers.
Kato Megumi's hand drifted upward, fingertips brushing her own lips.
The texture of his mouth against hers. The way he'd tasted—something warm and faintly sweet, like he'd been drinking that bottled milk tea he liked.
Her eyes grew hazy, unfocused. The classroom dissolved into soft edges.
Nnnh...
The dismissal bell shattered her reverie—a sharp, electronic brrring that made her flinch.
She blinked rapidly, straightening in her seat as heat crept up her neck.
—
The next period brought Kirisu-sensei's class.
The moment she stepped through the door, an almost imperceptible hush rippled through the room. Kirisu Mafuyu commanded attention simply by existing—that was the undeniable reality of her presence.
Her hair was a soft, dusty pink, the color of cherry blossoms in their final bloom, braided today in a single plait that swung gently against her lower back as she walked. Heart-shaped face. Delicate features arranged with near-mathematical precision—high cheekbones, a straight nose, lips naturally tinted a muted rose. Her eyes were a cool violet-gray, sharp and assessing behind thin-framed glasses that she adjusted habitually as she approached the podium.
The black professional attire she wore clung faithfully to her figure: a fitted blazer nipped at the waist, emphasizing the dramatic curve from her narrow ribcage to the swell of her hips. Beneath it, a cream-colored blouse with the top two buttons strategically undone, offering the barest suggestion of collarbones. Her pencil skirt ended mid-thigh—scandalously short by teacher standards—revealing legs that seemed impossibly long, wrapped in sheer black stockings that caught the fluorescent light with each step. Low heels clicked against linoleum.
She was, objectively speaking, devastating.
And she knew it.
She used that knowledge like a weapon, keeping students at arm's length with frigid professionalism.
As soon as she entered the classroom, Kirisu Mafuyu's gaze flicked—almost involuntarily—toward the second row. Toward him.
A blush crept across her cheeks before she could suppress it.
Don't look at him. Don't think about it. Don't remember the absolute horror of him standing in your apartment doorway, witnessing the cardboard boxes overflowing with convenience store packaging, the unidentifiable stains on your kitchen counter, the—
She felt like she would never be able to look him in the eye again.
...the mice.
God, the mice.
She walked to the podium pretending to be calm, cleared her throat with a soft ahem, and began the lesson.
Her voice came out steady. Controlled. The "Ice Queen" persona settling over her like armor.
But her pulse fluttered treacherously at her throat.
—
Fifty-three minutes later, the dismissal bell rang.
Kirisu Mafuyu closed her textbook with a decisive snap.
"Class dismissed. Hozuki Nozomi—" she let his name fall from her lips with careful neutrality, "—come to the office with me."
The reaction was immediate.
Suppressed snickers. Gleeful whispers passed between cupped hands.
"Oooh, the succubus is in trouble~"
"What'd he do this time?"
"Finally! Kirisu-sensei's gonna freeze him out!"
"Wait—" someone's voice dropped to a hiss, "—he's called the succubus for a reason. What if he charms her too?"
Several boys' expressions shifted from schadenfreude to genuine concern.
They didn't want Kirisu-sensei for themselves, necessarily.
They just couldn't stomach the thought of someone like Hozuki Nozomi having her.
Hozuki Nozomi rose from his seat with easy grace, utterly unbothered by the stares and whispers, and followed Kirisu Mafuyu out of the classroom.
—
The hallway smelled of floor wax and faint traces of someone's floral perfume—probably from a passing group of second-year girls who'd scrambled out of their way, shooting curious looks over their shoulders.
Hozuki Nozomi watched Kirisu Mafuyu's back as she walked.
Unlike Hiratsuka Shizuka in her rumpled white lab coat and perpetual air of exhausted resignation, Kirisu Mafuyu carried herself with rigid precision. Spine straight. Shoulders squared. Each step measured and deliberate.
But his eyes traced lower.
The sway of her hips beneath that tight black skirt. The way the fabric pulled across her rear with each stride, leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. Her legs, impossibly long, wrapped in those sheer stockings that made her pale skin look like it would feel like silk under his palms.
Her pink braid swung gently, brushing against her lower back—just above the curve of her ass.
She'd let him braid that hair.
That day, in her disaster of an apartment, while she'd sat rigid and flustered on an overturned crate because every chair was buried under three months of unfolded laundry.
Reaching a corner, Kirisu Mafuyu's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.
"Wha—"
"Shh!"
She started running.
Her heels clicked rapidly—tak-tak-tak-tak—against the floor as she pulled him through a side corridor, past storage closets and unused club rooms, until they reached a fire exit stairwell tucked into a forgotten corner of the building.
She yanked open the heavy door and pulled him inside before letting go.
The stairwell was dim. Concrete. The air carried a stale, dusty quality—the smell of spaces rarely visited.
Kirisu Mafuyu leaned against the railing, catching her breath.
"Hah... hah..."
Because she'd run fast, she was winded.
Her chest rose and fell with each inhale—and Hozuki Nozomi noted, with clinical appreciation, that "well-endowed" was perhaps an understatement. The buttons of her blouse strained slightly with each breath, the fabric pulling taut over the generous swell of her breasts.
At least a D-cup, possibly more.
Kirisu Mafuyu was not only beautiful in appearance but possessed an excellent figure.
No wonder students called her the "Ice Queen"—she needed the cold persona just to keep the desperate confessions manageable.
Composing herself, Kirisu Mafuyu planted her hands on her hips and fixed him with a serious stare. Her cheeks were still flushed from exertion, chest heaving, but her expression was stern.
"Hozuki Nozomi."
"Yes, Sensei?"
"You didn't tell anyone about what happened last time, did you?"
"Last time?"
"Hmph—" her eyes narrowed dangerously, "—don't play dumb! It's about... the pile of unprocessed trash in my room. And the mice! You didn't blab about it, did you?"
For a young and beautiful woman, having a nest of mice visiting her room was the greatest insult.
But unfortunately, she'd caused it herself.
This was very embarrassing.
Hozuki Nozomi pressed one hand over his heart, expression wounded.
"Kirisu-sensei. Do you see me as that kind of blabbermouth who can't keep a secret?"
"Mmh... don't be so anxious, I was just asking! I don't think you're that kind of person..."
"The moment you asked, you already thought I was." His voice dropped, soft with hurt. "You've really wounded this student's heart. I didn't expect Kirisu Mafuyu-sensei to distrust me so much."
"Ah—I'm sorry..." She shifted her weight, one hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of pink hair behind her ear.
"I was just too worried about my secret being discovered. You know—" her gaze slid away, "—if I can't control the students... Some troublesome ones, if I'm not cold and fierce, I won't be able to maintain order at all."
She looked at him guiltily, those violet-gray eyes softening with sincerity.
"I really do like this profession of teaching. So... do you understand?"
Hozuki Nozomi let the silence stretch for three heartbeats.
Then he smiled.
"I forgive you."
"Oh, good—"
"But you have to treat me to a meal for me to fully get over it."
"Mmh... alright."
Kirisu Mafuyu agreed without thinking, guilt overriding her better judgment.
He'd helped her. She'd doubted him. An apology dinner was the least she could do.
But something felt off.
Why did she have to appease him? Why did she have to coax him?
He wasn't her boyfriend...
While she was still confused, Hozuki Nozomi struck while the iron was hot:
"Kirisu-sensei, how about this afternoon? I'll come to your house for a meal, no problem, right?"
Kirisu Mafuyu's mouth opened to sternly refuse—
—but then she thought of the accumulated trash still piled in her apartment, the garbage bags she still hadn't taken down to the collection point, the distinct possibility of mice visiting again—
She shivered involuntarily.
"...Alright. This afternoon it is." Her voice came out resigned. "Don't go to club activities. Wait for me to finish up, and I'll take you home."
"Okay. It's a deal."
Hozuki Nozomi's smile widened with satisfaction.
See? Another opportunity to get close to the beautiful teacher, didn't it just come along?
Mm, when the time comes, he'd use the "cat bag" to release a few cats to catch some small mice. Give Kirisu Mafuyu a little surprise...
He felt that he was really quite villainous.
But without some tricks, how could he win over the beauty?
He accepted his own villainy with a clear conscience.
Meanwhile, Kirisu Mafuyu had agreed to treat him to a meal with the thought of having him help tidy her room again. There was nothing she could do—since he already knew her shameful secret, she didn't want a second person finding out.
As a teacher, she also had her pride, alright?
"Anyway—" she jabbed a finger toward his chest, stopping just short of contact, "—that's our secret, Hozuki Nozomi. You absolutely cannot tell anyone about my... private image!"
"No problem, Kirisu-sensei." He pressed his palm flat over his heart. "Don't you trust my character? I won't tell anyone."
Just kidding.
This secret was originally created by him on purpose—engineered specifically so he could discover Kirisu Mafuyu's private side. He naturally wouldn't give the opportunity to interact with her to anyone else.
Seeing his sincere gaze, Kirisu Mafuyu's impression of him improved considerably.
He really is a good student. Helpful. Discreet.
She exhaled with relief.
"Well then... see you this afternoon, Hozuki Nozomi. Also—" her tone sharpened, "—one more thing. You can't let anyone see us going home together. Understand?"
"I understand." He nodded solemnly. "We'll go back secretly, right?"
"En. You're teachable!"
She nodded in satisfaction—
—then suddenly felt a bit strange.
How was she acting right now? As if she were having a secret affair with someone?
No—no, that's ridiculous—
Her cheeks flushed scarlet.
"Um, I still have to prepare lessons for other classes." She sidestepped toward the door, movements jerky with sudden embarrassment. "I'm going back to the office. Hozuki Nozomi, you should return to your classroom too. See you later."
"En."
His voice dropped to something warmer. Softer.
"See you later... Mafuyu."
The name rolled off his tongue like a caress.
He turned and walked away first, footsteps echoing up the concrete stairwell.
Kirisu Mafuyu stood frozen.
Processing.
"...This kid."
He actually called me by my first name?
Calling her "Kirisu-sensei" seemed polite. Distant. Appropriate.
But calling her "Mafuyu"...
...had a sense of intimacy.
Her heart lurched.
No way.
Is he... interested in her?
The thought sent heat racing up her neck and across her cheeks. She shook her head vigorously, pink braid whipping against her shoulders.
This was her student. He should be respectful toward her. En, at most, he probably saw her as a friendly older sister.
Thinking of this, Kirisu Mafuyu felt a little smug.
It seemed her charm was still considerable.
No matter how cold she tried to appear, her gentle nature was still perceived by him—and attracted him.
A small, vain smile curled at her lips.
Then her expression fell.
Wait.
She wasn't good at housework.
What would she make for him to eat when he came home this afternoon?
Would ordering takeout be okay?
...He'd probably judge her even more.
Kirisu Mafuyu groaned, pressing both palms against her warming cheeks, and trudged back toward the faculty office with the resigned shuffle of a woman facing her domestic inadequacies head-on.