Chapter 12 - No Perfect

Reiji Kazama had seen a lot of ridiculous things in his seventeen years of walking this cursed Earth: two dudes fighting over whose takoyaki stand was better (while holding burning skewers), Yume mistaking a dog for a cow (and trying to milk it), and that time he accidentally walked into the girls' changing room because he was chasing a bee.

But nothing — and he meant nothing — compared to this.

He sat in a hard chair that was too small for his legs, squeezed between an old filing cabinet and a fake plant that had probably been dead since the Heisei era. Across the table sat the Vice Principal, a school counselor, and his substitute homeroom teacher: Asuka Minazuki.

"So," the Vice Principal said, adjusting his glasses. "Mr. Kazama. We've received... concerning reports."

Here it comes.

Reiji slouched deeper in his seat, arms crossed. The counselor cleared her throat like she was about to give a TED Talk on juvenile delinquents.

"Frequent tardiness. Repeated involvement in physical altercations. General non-compliance with school regulations."

Reiji let out a small snort.

"Was that a laugh, Mr. Kazama?"

"No, just choking on my potential," he muttered.

The Vice Principal didn't look amused. "These are serious matters."

He felt the urge to roll his eyes but didn't. Mostly because someone beside him had gone very, very still.

Asuka.

She sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, back straight. But Reiji noticed the tension in her fingers. How she was gripping her skirt tightly.

He hadn't seen her like this. Not the usual warm, clumsy Asuka who burned pancakes and got startled by pigeons. This version of her was... collected. Professional. Cool in a way that made his throat tighten.

"Excuse me," she said suddenly.

Both administrators turned.

"I believe there are things missing from this report," she continued. "Reiji has shown a remarkable change over the past few weeks."

Reiji blinked.

"He has been attending more classes. Submitting homework on time. Participating, even if reluctantly. He helped organize the class booth during the cultural festival and has also helped supervise my daughter when needed."

Reiji turned his head slightly. Her voice was calm, but her eyes burned.

"He's not just some case file to be stamped 'problematic.' He's a student. A person. And if you can't see his growth, then maybe the problem isn't with him."

There was a silence so thick, you could cut it with a chalkboard eraser.

The counselor cleared her throat. "We do appreciate the insight, Miss Minazuki. But we're required to call guardians for students flagged more than five times in the system. Mr. Kazama's listed guardian..."

"Unavailable," Reiji said. "He works at a bar. He doesn't pick up unless I'm bleeding."

More silence. The kind that was louder than yelling.

The Vice Principal sighed. "Well, in that case, we'll note Miss Minazuki's observations. But if there are further incidents..."

"I know," Reiji cut in. "Expulsion. Prison. The fiery pits of hell. Got it."

Asuka flinched slightly at that.

The meeting ended with polite bows and fake smiles.

Outside the faculty office

They walked in silence through the empty hallway. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting long, stretched shadows. Reiji kept his hands in his pockets, resisting the urge to kick the vending machine.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Asuka didn't respond immediately. They stopped by the shoe lockers.

"Do you know why I did that?" she asked, facing him now.

Reiji shrugged. "Because you're nice?"

"No. Because I care."

He looked at her then.

She wasn't smiling. Not the soft teacher smile she wore in class, not the nervous laugh she gave when Yume said something absurd. This was real.

"Reiji, you matter. Even when you don't think so. Even when the world doesn't say so. You matter."

He felt something in his chest pull taut. Like a thread that had been frayed for years, finally tugging at both ends.

"Don't say stuff like that," he said quietly.

"Why not?"

"Because then I start to believe it."

She took a step closer.

"Good. Believe it."

He turned away, afraid his face was showing too much.

Later that evening — Asuka's apartment

Yume sat cross-legged on the carpet, wearing a dinosaur hoodie and drawing something that looked like a blob attacking a smaller blob.

"That's you and Mama!" she beamed.

"Which one's the blob with fangs?"

"You!"

Reiji snorted. "Figures."

Asuka brought in cocoa and rice crackers. Yume immediately grabbed hers and ran to the couch.

"Don't spill on the pillows," Asuka called.

"I won't! Probably!"

Reiji sat quietly, fingers wrapped around the warm mug.

Asuka sat across from him, folding her legs under herself.

"You didn't have to come," she said.

"I know."

Pause.

"But I wanted to."

He didn't say it to impress her. Didn't even know if he meant to say it aloud. But it came out anyway.

Asuka looked surprised. Then... a little sad. Then grateful.

"You know," she said softly, "back in college, I had a professor who said something I never forgot."

"Yeah?"

"He said, 'The students who make you want to quit are often the ones who make you want to stay.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means... people like you make me want to be better. Not give up."

Reiji stared into his cocoa like it held answers.

She looked at him seriously.

"You don't have to become someone else. You just have to let yourself become... you."

He looked up.

"And if that person still punches people sometimes?"

She smiled.

"Then I hope he learns to aim better."

Reiji laughed, and for once, it wasn't bitter. It was real.

Yume ran up and tackled him.

"Blob Punch-Kun! Let's play robot battle!"

"You're lucky I don't charge for my services."

Asuka giggled, watching them.

And for a while, it felt like the world had paused in the exact right frame.

Not perfect.

Not easy.

But good.

Something worth staying for.