Lately, I've found myself harboring an uncertain affection for my student.
As an educator, is such a thing permissible? As a trainer, is it even professional? Would it be welcomed? Even if she were to accept it, would the world? Or perhaps, to her, these feelings would be nothing more than an unwanted burden.
A vortex of incomprehensible thoughts swirled in the back of my mind, deep within my chest. I love her. If only I could leave it at that—how much easier life would be. I could have offered a lighthearted confession without this agonizing overthinking. That would have been the simplest path. A joyful thing, even. Even if she had turned her face away in rejection, I could have remained at peace.
But I am past that now. I have held onto these feelings for so long that they have woven themselves into my very fiber. I'm not sure I could even exist without them anymore. What am I supposed to do with this love? A time will come when I must face it head-on, but I have no idea how. And so, I continue to live, drifting through the days without an answer.
The day began like any other. Keiichi Tanoue dragged himself out of bed, a familiar tremor of anxiety thrumming in his troubled heart. He felt as though he'd been dreaming, though the details remained frustratingly out of reach. There was a memory of a dark, thin veil… and Tachyon walking away behind it. They had spoken, but the words were lost to the waking world.
Keiichi sat up. His sleep hadn't been restful, but that was nothing new—it was just another dip in the regular ebb and flow of his health. Some days were good; some were bad. That was simply the way of things. With a heavy sigh, he stood, drew the curtains, and shuffled toward the bathroom.
The mirror reflected a face that was anything but pleasant: a scruffy, unshaven mess with a sharp, unfriendly gaze and deep shadows carved under his eyes. It was a face built to be disliked. The only person who had ever truly loved it was his mother, and she had long since departed for heaven. She'd had a smile that could outshine the sun. Remembering her, Keiichi tried to grin at his reflection. His bearded face contorted into something grotesque and unsettling.
No, forget it, he thought. It's arrogant to think anyone could find this attractive.
He washed his face and shaved, which made him look marginally more human. He had spent the entire weekend holed up in his room at the staff dormitory, avoiding Tachyon and everyone else. He hadn't stepped foot outside, spending forty-eight hours lost in handheld games and the glow of his computer monitor. He'd prepared for the isolation, stocking his fridge in advance. It had been a necessary exile—a brief escape from the world. Usually, his colleagues were constantly dropping by, leaving him no time for himself, so he'd warned his friends: "I'm rotting away this weekend. Don't come over."
They had just laughed and nodded. "We all have those days, man."
Until Monday morning, Keiichi had drowned his thoughts in gaming. It felt good. He couldn't forget everything, but he managed to numb the edges of his reality—including his feelings for his trainee, Agnes Tachyon.
He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had happened. When they first met, there certainly hadn't been any spark. His first impression of her was of a pale child with sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes. But somewhere along the line, that impression had shifted into affection. As he spent more time with her, as she became a fixture of his daily life, the feeling took root. He was twenty-five; she was seventeen. An eight-year gap. Beyond that, she was still a child in the throes of adolescence, possessing a lingering innocence that sometimes made him feel more like a father than a mentor.
Yet, simultaneously, she was ascending the stairs to adulthood with steady, deliberate steps. There were moments when she possessed a breathtaking, startling beauty. That was what had drawn him in.
But what of Tachyon? Did she feel anything for him? He truly didn't know. She was the type of person who didn't mind physical proximity; she would lean in close without a second thought. Those gestures made his heart race—unaccustomed as he was to the company of women—but he could never tell if she was actually looking at him or just observing a specimen.
Then there was the shock she'd delivered recently.
The Kikuka Sho had just ended, a time when they should have been relaxing. But a few days after the race, Tachyon had dropped a bombshell: her legs had been in such a precarious state that she shouldn't have been able to finish the race at all.
The revelation had devastated Keiichi. As she explained her "Plan A" and "Plan B," he realized how little he truly knew. She had been prepared to sacrifice her own legs, and it was only a stray word from him—spoken in a moment he hadn't even deemed significant—that had stayed her hand.
It left him feeling utterly useless. While he understood that his words held weight for her, he was consumed by regret that he hadn't been able to take her hand while she walked that terrifying tightrope. She had crossed it alone, carrying his words like a lonely talisman.
Maybe it's proof that she doesn't trust me, he thought bitterly. If she was walking such a dangerous path, why couldn't she tell me? Am I really that unreliable?
He had masked his turmoil with a smile in the moment, but the weekend of isolation had been a desperate attempt to stop thinking. It had mostly worked. He'd gamed until his brain was numb, only letting his mind wander in the minutes before sleep, and even then, he was usually too exhausted for deep rumination. But now, Monday had arrived, bringing with it a heavy sense of dread.
As he finished washing his face, he noted the dark circles under his eyes again. Before he could dwell on them, a sharp thud-thud-thud echoed at his door.
Right on cue, he thought. He was still in his pajamas, but he didn't have much choice. He pulled the door open.
Standing there was a lovely, chestnut-haired girl with an expression of manic excitement. Before he could even greet her, she began to chatter.
"Trainer-kun! I stayed up all night and finally finished the new formula! Wait... what's with you? Look at those bags under your eyes!"
It was Tachyon. Just seeing her, hearing that voice, made Keiichi's pulse kick into overdrive. He fought to keep his expression neutral.
"Look who's talking. You're the one who clearly hasn't slept."
"Nonsense! You're the one who looks terrible. You are a precious experimental subject, you know! Here, let me see those eyes."
Tachyon stepped forward, bringing her face mere inches from his. Keiichi felt his heart physically leap in his chest.
"Aha! See? Your eyes are bloodshot. Evidence of sleep deprivation!"
"I... I slept a little," he stammered, pulling back in a hurry, trying to reclaim his composure.
"No, no, you didn't. If it isn't quality sleep, it doesn't count. Honestly, because of your poor health, my experiment is going to suffer. I'll have to postpone it. Yaaaawn..."
Tachyon finished with a massive, unrefined yawn. Despite his guilt, Keiichi pushed back.
"You haven't slept either, Tachyon. They say sleep deprivation is the enemy of beauty. Pulling an all-nighter is going to wreck you tomorrow."
Tachyon went silent, narrowed her eyes, and glared at him. She crossed her arms.
"The same applies to you, doesn't it? You claimed we have training after school, yet you intend to face it with such a massive handicap? Hmph. This conversation is fruitless. If we're both unhealthy, so be it. Make sure you are in peak condition by next week. Farewell!"
With another yawn, she turned and sauntered off. Keiichi wanted to watch her until she disappeared, but he felt the judgmental gazes of other trainers in the hallway. He hesitated for a second, then retreated into the safety of his room.
Behind the closed door, his heart refused to slow down. If anything, it sped up. Had they ever looked at each other from that distance before? Their noses had almost touched. He didn't know how to process it. A twenty-five-year-old man, squirming in his room like a middle-schooler.
It was a sensation like an itch deep inside his chest. A maddening, unreachable itch. Sometimes, the urge to scratch it was so intense he felt like he wanted to reach in and pull his own heart out just to make it stop. That was what loving Tachyon felt like.
It was agony, but it was also a strange kind of gift. He didn't know what to call the emotion, but it was enough to keep him moving through another day.
He had been in love before, but never like this. There had been a girl in middle school who came close, but even then, the feelings hadn't reached this fever pitch. He had once wondered why, eventually concluding that this was simply what "real" love felt like. But even that answer felt incomplete. Were there different brands of love? A "fake" version and a "true" one? A "good" kind and a "bad" kind? He didn't know. He was surrounded by questions. But still, he lived.
Keiichi dressed for work, his thoughts still a tangled mess. As he swapped his pajamas for a dress shirt, he put on his glasses. To be honest, without them, he hadn't seen Tachyon's face clearly earlier—just the vague, blurred shape of her. But even that was enough to make him happy. It wasn't just seeing her; it was the fact that she had come to see him.
And because he hadn't been wearing his glasses, she had seemed even closer than usual. She often leaned in to check his physical condition, but today felt different. Even the memory of it sent a thrill through him. Shaking it off, he stepped out of the dorm and headed toward the trainer's office.
He passed through the common area—a large room with a wide-screen TV and several sofas. It was bustling with men: tall trainers, sleepy trainers, all sorts. Among them, he spotted a friend.
Kirishima was sitting on a sofa, scrolling through his phone. He was a short-haired, athletic man, as bright and sincere as he looked, though he harbored a secret passion for gaming. That was their common ground, though their styles differed wildly. Keiichi was a solitary gamer; Kirishima wanted a crowd.
Keiichi tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Kirishima. Thanks for keeping your word and staying away."
Kirishima looked up. "Man, I walked to your door so many times only to remember your warning. Playing solo is boring!"
Keiichi chuckled. "You actually came to my door? Really?"
"Yeah! And then I'd remember what you said and have to turn around like a loser. I did that two or three times."
Keiichi laughed out loud. "That was the right move. I wouldn't have opened the door for anyone this weekend."
Kirishima scowled, and for a split second, the expression looked so much like Tachyon's that Keiichi's heart gave a painful jerk. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"You missed a great event this weekend," Kirishima grumbled.
"Too bad. I did it all by myself," Keiichi said with a smirk.
"Ugh, you're the worst. Don't you value our friendship?"
"Not even a little," Keiichi teased. He checked his watch; it was time to get to the office. "Anyway, I'm heading out. Thanks for not ruining my focus."
"Yeah, yeah."
Talking to a friend had chased away the lingering grogginess, but as soon as he reached his desk in the trainer's office, the exhaustion came roaring back.