Chapter 1
Hajimemashite
It was impossible to ignore the new foreign assistant when she bracketed the traditional greeting hajimemashite with a flourish of poetry. Even though the words sounded rehearsed, they still felt warm and genuine. No wonder Katayū Makoto had chosen her; the young woman was a literature nerd!
“… however ephemeral may be my passage, I do hope it retains the beauty of sakura blossoms scattering in the wind.”
Her Japanese was spot on, with a lilt much fainter than he expected. A testament to her competence. Good—there would be no communication barrier. Makoto’s voice echoed in his mind. I’m counting on your diplomatic skills. Take care of her integration, ne?
Her integration. Many kids would call her the gaijin behind her back—the outsider. Until the boys noticed how striking she was. Then, all bets were off. Kazuki bit back a sigh; teenagers could be… miserably predictable.
Said time bomb stood taller than most of his students.
Trewith wouldn’t be able to disappear in the crowd.
Her physique marked her as exotic at first glance either way; there would be no hiding.
Sano Kazuki, homeroom teacher, felt like cursing his superior and friend for placing such a responsibility in his class.
Why does she have to be so… striking? Thanks for the ticking time bomb, Mako-san.
But he wasn’t one to hold a young woman responsible for being drop-dead gorgeous, so he nodded his acknowledgement. She sent him a relieved look and bowed politely.
“Very well, Turerōsu-san,” he struggled with her name. “Welcome to class 3-C.”
She was about to leave the raised platform when she hesitated, one foot held mid-air like a classical dancer. So graceful.
“Ano,” the young woman said. Then bit her lip until he gave her the go-ahead. “I usually go by Elyna. My name isn’t well suited to suffixes, with all the Cornish sonorities and all.”
Ah, so I really messed it up.
Fighting a blush, Kazuki smoothed his features; calling a colleague by her first name implied a level of closeness not bestowed upon strangers. Should he keep up the massacre, or take down that first wall of professional distance?
Five minutes in, and already challenging.
He wouldn’t be the only one struggling with her name, though. As he hesitated, the young lady seemed to crumble; in her sea-blue eyes danced a storm of uncertainty directed at… him?
Blinking, Kazuki realised she was waiting for his decision like a condemned prisoner at the gallows.
He understood her fear of committing a false step on the first day; the Vice Principal could be impressive, especially when imparting the rules.
If she'd faced him in a one-to-one interview, he'd probably instilled in her the fear of overstepping.
“Of course, Elyna-sensei,” he smoothly responded, hoping his voice did not betray his inner turmoil.
The smile she gave him was blinding, enough to distract him while she walked to the back of the classroom, long waves of sunlight dancing to her waist.
Many gazes lingered in her wake, all genders included. Curiosity, admiration… distrust too. Kazuki had to call upon years of experience to reclaim his pupils’ attention.
I’ll have to keep a close eye on this. In a school where boys outnumbered girls five to one, he knew how quickly curiosity could turn into something less welcome. The last thing they needed was to deal with harassment.
This is going to be a long year.
The first hours of class went smoothly. Kazuki was responsible for all announcements and the boring administrative work that came with the renewal of the year. Thankfully, he knew most of class 3-C by heart; except for a few new pupils, he’d been their homeroom teacher for two years already.
But it wasn’t the students he was wary of; sometimes, he swore Elyna’s eyes were burning holes into him. The young woman stood at the back of the class, wearing a thoughtful expression as he made a quick pass on the rules and regulations.
What is she thinking? Too restrictive? Too strange?
For the moment, none of his students dared address any questions to their teaching assistant; her presence would need some getting used to.
He kept to his usual program, acutely aware of the assessing witness that seemed to catalogue every detail at the back of his class.
Kazuki lingered a tad longer on earthquake instructions, just in case; she didn't seem put off but the protocol. Good.
The moment Kazuki feared most went without a hitch; the British woman remained thankfully silent when he detailed the girls-only classes; home management could be a sore point to a foreigner.
Not that cooking and learning to keep a budget were beneath his notice.
Like his colleagues, Kazuki wished to offer it to all students, not only female ones.
But the conservative souls of the institution had yet to be convinced; as long as traditional families remained the main investor, sexism would still thrive in the school curriculum.
Weary, the homeroom teacher shut his notebook right in time for the lunch bell. He shooed his class away and braced himself for the next conversation.
“Elyna-sensei, please remain a moment.”
The young woman stiffened, distributing smiles as students filed out. Thankfully, Shūji left without attempting a prank. Once the last ones were out of sight, she bowed deeply.
“Gomen nasai,” she apologised sheepishly, “I didn’t want to…”
Kazuki’s eyebrow rose in disbelief. “Why are you apologising?” he asked gently, hoping to catch her gaze. She stubbornly refused to lift her head, fiddling with the cuff of her blazer. The contrast between her luminous hair and the dark fabric was striking.
Focus, Kazu.
“I… my name,” she stuttered. “I just felt it would be easier for everyone to use Elyna. Trewith can be a little…”
Ah! So she feared she had vexed him. Fortunately, Kazuki wasn’t temperamental; he owned up to his mistakes, and he’d completely butchered her name. “It was very thoughtful,” he offered to placate her nervousness. “I thank you for taking into consideration the peculiarity of our language.”
Jaw agape, the young woman lifted her head. Her ocean blue eyes drew him in like a siren’s song. Breath short, he had to break eye contact to regain a modicum of composure.
“I guess Katayū-sensei gave you a rundown of how things work here?” He grasped a pile of papers.
“Hai, briefly. May I ask…?”
His hand cupped the air. “Ask away.”
“What should I expect from the students?”
His respect for the young woman grew. It was a fundamental question, especially when teaching in a foreign country.
“Curiosity, mainly.”
Or so I hope.
“You’re the first foreigner this school has ever employed. Some will be eager to practise their English with a native speaker, others will be too intimidated to approach you at all.” His fingers played with the stack of papers, seeking solace in this awkward face-to-face.
He couldn’t ignore the stiffness of her shoulders; she was not yet at ease in his presence. Did he intimidate her? Seeking to ease her discomfort, he chuckled. “Me included. English was never…” He paused, then added in English, “… my cup of tea.”
A smile bloomed on her face. Genuine. “I understand,” she replied in her native tongue. “Earl Grey is not for every palate.”
Ah, a tea conversation. A great ice breaker.
Kazuki felt his upper back relax slightly as he leant over his desk. “I’m more of a Mao Feng guy, personally.”
The young woman blinked, looking utterly lost.
“It’s a Chinese green tea,” he supplied. “Very mild.”
Her features brightened. “Oh, I’ll be sure to try. I’ve had some sencha and I loved it.”
He was already planning to brew a pot. But that would have to wait. For now, she needed more down-to-earth instructions.
“We will hold elections for class representatives this afternoon. Now, I bet Senda Haruki will be elected again. It’s been the same those past two years.”
The young woman nodded, eyebrows knitting.
“Katayū-san told me you would attend kendō practice. You will recognise Senda-kun easily there; he is the only left-handed kendōka.”
Her eyes widened with childish wonder; Kazuki’s heart gave a traitorous thud at the brightness of her expression. The sight was… incredibly warming.
“Wow, like Saitō-san? Or Miyamoto Musashi? That’s pretty cool.”
Taken aback, Kazuki studied her for a heartbeat. He didn’t expect her to be a hard-core fan of samurai movies. No wonder she got along well with their devil of a Vice Principal.
“You’ve done your research, Elyna-san,” he smiled. “I understand why Katayū-sensei was so adamant to have you.”
More impressive was the fact that she’d seemed to hold her ground against him. The Vice Principal could be… intense, even to his closest friends. But the school wouldn’t be here without his dedication, and they were all grateful for his relentless drive.
“Don’t let him run you ragged. Katayū-sensei can be a slave driver when he notices potential.”
A flicker of unease passed across her expression. “Will I really have a choice, though?” she asked nervously.
He understood her concerns, and took them to heart. Resisting Katayū Makoto on a rampage was like trying to contain the tide. “This is why I am here. Are you familiar with the concept of homeroom teacher?”
She nodded; he wondered if it was out of politeness, and decided to explain anyway. “I do not know how it worked where…” his mind supplied many different countries, one too many for him to remember in which order she’d lived there. “… wherever you were before.”
“England, for six years,” she provided. “And Mexico before that. And Italy first, after we moved out of Norway.”
His heart lurched in both sympathy and awe. To say she’d been flung about the world was an understatement. So many questions danced at the tip of his tongue, but his eyes caught the clock, and he shook his head.
Mexico or Italy—he had no idea if the concept of homeroom teacher had equivalents overseas. What he knew, though, was that he would do his utmost to help her settle peacefully. No—he would be the support she needed to thrive.
“Well. Here, the homeroom teacher is pretty central. I am your supervisor. It means you can come to me for anything remotely related to school. If you face trouble with students, in any club or with the staff. I’m here to ensure this year goes well for you. Nothing is out of bounds.”
The discourse was well rehearsed, and it suddenly felt a little empty. Kazuki knew to be a reliable man, but would it be enough?
“Nothing?”
Kazuki blinked; her expression was serious, but the slight quirk of those rosy lips only reflected the teasing light in her eyes. Satisfied that he’d put her at ease, he played along. “Except for Shūji. Direct your complaints to Sōhma-san.”
Blond eyebrows arched. “The school nurse?”
She’s got a good memory of names.
“Yes,” he deadpanned. Then added as an afterthought: “Don’t ask.”
Elyna should be warned; Shūji always loved testing newcomers, especially interesting ones. To have the school nurse in her corner would be additional protection against the prankster. A sunny smile spread across her features as she bowed.
“Arigatō gozaimasu, Sano-sensei. It is nice to have support.”
“You’re very welcome. Now hop along, it’s time for lunch.”
She took off with a dancer’s gait, spine straight and limbs graceful. His eyes trailed her until she had disappeared in the corridor.
Elyna: Guess what? I’m going to attend cooking and sewing classes like a good little girl! ??
Aksel: God help them! I’ll pray for Japan.
Elyna: You dolt!