Chapter 3: Classroom Whispers

The classroom had its own rhythm — idle chatter before the bell, rustling papers during lectures, and the collective sighs of students watching the minute hand crawl toward freedom.

But this week, something had changed.

There was a new topic circling the air, bouncing off desks, whispered behind books, and passed like folded notes under tables.

It was about Hoshiko-sensei.

Or more precisely…

Hoshiko-sensei and Yasu.

—

“Did you see how she looked at him again?”

“I swear, she smiled—just at him.”

“She even called him Yasu-kun... she doesn’t use that with anyone else!”

“No way… you think she likes him?”

“Maybe he’s her type—quiet and mysterious!”

Laughter.

Curious glances.

And Yasu, sitting in his usual place by the window, oblivious to most of it—or pretending to be.

He didn’t talk during breaks. Didn’t eat with others. He was always staring out into the schoolyard, watching the sakura petals as if they were speaking some secret language only he could understand.

But today, he felt it — a tension in the air. A few glances held too long. A few voices dropped too suddenly when he passed.

He could feel it crawling at the edge of his skin.

And yet... he didn’t mind it.

Because whenever he thought of her—of Hoshiko-sensei standing at the front of the class, laughing at her own dumb science puns, or leaning slightly over his desk to check if he was awake—there was a strange warmth that rose in his chest.

It scared him.
It thrilled him.
It made him feel alive.

—

“Alright, everyone,” Hoshiko-sensei said, walking into the room with her usual energy, a stack of papers in one hand and a half-drunk can of coffee in the other. “I hope you're all ready to fail this pop quiz!”

“EHHHH!?” came the collective groan of the class.

She laughed. “Just kidding. Mostly.”

As she moved between the rows handing out worksheets, her eyes lingered for a moment on Yasu’s desk. She placed the sheet in front of him with a small, playful smile.

“Don’t fall asleep this time, ne, Yasu-kun?”

A few giggles rippled through the class. Yasu didn’t respond. He just looked at her for a heartbeat too long.

And she looked back.

Only for a second.

But that was enough.

—

After class, the whispers bloomed like weeds.

“That’s the third time she’s talked to him like that.”

“She’s so obvious…”

“Yasu’s not even trying and he’s getting her attention. What’s his secret?”

A few students teased him directly now.

As he walked out into the hallway, one of the boys from the front row — Tanaka — called out with a smirk, “Oi, Yasu! Planning to be Sensei’s assistant, huh?”

Yasu didn’t answer. His expression didn’t change. But he heard it. Loud and clear.

And so did Hoshiko.

She was just a few steps behind, collecting something from her previous class. When she looked up and saw the teasing smile on Tanaka’s face, she tilted her head curiously.

“Hmm?” she said, pretending not to have heard.

Tanaka straightened. “Ah, nothing, Sensei!”

But Hoshiko didn’t let it go so easily.

With a mischievous grin, she walked up to him and tapped her pen against her cheek. “You jealous, Tanaka-kun?”

The class went silent.

Tanaka turned red. “N-no! I mean—”

She chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. “Relax. I’m only interested in students who actually pass my tests.”

The class erupted in laughter.

Yasu couldn’t help it — a small smile tugged at his lips.

She was... something else.

—

Later that day, during the lunch break, Yasu remained at his desk as usual, his bento unopened beside him. The classroom was emptier than usual. Most students had gone out to the courtyard, eager to enjoy the warm sunlight.

A gentle knock came at the open door.

It was her.

Hoshiko-sensei leaned against the frame with a small, knowing smile. “Not eating?”

Yasu blinked. “...I will.”

“You always say that. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you chew,” she teased, stepping inside.

He didn’t know what to say. He looked at her, then away. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Liar,” she said casually, sitting down at the empty desk in front of his. “You’re just hiding from everyone.”

He looked at her sharply.

But she didn’t sound accusing. In fact, she sounded like someone who understood.

“I used to do that too,” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “When I was a student. I’d sneak off to the roof or hide in the nurse’s office just to avoid people.”

Yasu tilted his head. “You... didn’t like people?”

She smiled. “I just liked silence more.”

There was a pause.

Then, without warning, she added: “But you know, silence is dangerous too. It makes you think too much.”

Yasu stared at her.

And for a moment, he thought he saw something behind that playful glint in her eyes — something soft. Tired, even.

“Anyway,” she said, standing again. “Don’t worry about what the class says. Students gossip. Teachers pretend not to hear. It’s all part of the show.”

She turned to leave, but before she stepped out, she looked back at him one more time.

“And if anyone asks why I talk to you more than others,” she said, voice low, “just tell them it’s because I like sleepy boys.”

A wink.

And she was gone.

Yasu blinked.

His heart pounded so loud, he could barely hear the breeze outside.