Connecting With Each Other

“Takada-sensei?”

“Yes, Fujiwara-sensei?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you persuade Sakura-san to return to school?” Fujiwara-sensei asked.

Nearly two weeks had passed since that incident. Sakura-san had finally come back. Mayu was steadily working on her new project, or so I’d heard. Kanzaki-san was, as always, chasing her next magazine scoop. Yua-san had started working at a flower shop. Thankfully, no one recognized her there. According to her, the shop belonged to her older sister.

“I told Sakura-san that if she achieved excellent results by the end of the year, I’d buy her a present,” I replied.

Of course, this explanation had already been prepared as our official story. I had also reminded Sakura-san to mention the same thing if anyone asked. I wanted to keep Yua-san completely out of this.

“Wow. But wouldn’t the other students want presents too if they heard that?” Fujiwara-sensei asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

She wasn’t wrong. I’d need a countermeasure for that. Maybe I should propose a tougher final exam during the faculty meeting.

I really sound like a villainous teacher.

“My students are like my children,” I said with a practiced smile. “Of course I’d do the same for all of them.”

A perfect answer from a perfect teacher.

“How lucky they are,” Fujiwara-sensei laughed. “By the way, have you heard the latest rumor?”

“What rumor?”

“Don’t you know, Takada-sensei?” Morita-sensei chimed in. He taught literature. “Masamura Yua was seen in public near a hospital. I think it was about two weeks ago.”

So that was it.

“I’m surprised you two pay attention to rumors like that,” I replied calmly. “But what about it?”

“Didn’t you say your sister was hospitalized around that time?” Fujiwara-sensei asked. “I was wondering if you might have seen the actress there.”

Not only did I see her—I was standing right next to her.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said smoothly. “I was busy taking care of my sister back then.”

Perfect score—as a teacher and as a brother.

“But you seem unusually interested in Yua-san,” I added. “Are you fans?”

“I loved her role as a serial killer in that detective drama,” Morita-sensei said excitedly, mimicking a chilling smile. “That psychopathic expression gave me goosebumps.”

“I like her singing,” Fujiwara-sensei added. “There’s a song from her first album I still listen to. But… Takada-sensei, didn’t you just call her Yua-san?”

“I heard that too,” Morita-sensei said.

“I—I feel close to her,” I said quickly. “I mean, as a fan. Maybe that’s why.”

That was dangerously close.

“Really?” Morita-sensei leaned forward. “What do you like about her? As a fan club member, I should record your answer.”

Please focus on literature, Morita-sensei.

“I like her expressions,” I said. “She conveys emotions in her own way. Sometimes, you can’t tell if she’s acting or being herself. That’s what draws me in.”

“Excellent!” Morita-sensei beamed. “A perfect answer.”

I felt a wave of relief.

Thank you, Mayu. There’s a reason I’ve heard you praise Yua-san so often.

“Hello, Souma! Where are you right now?”

Yua-san called me out of nowhere.

“I just left school. I’m heading to the bus stop,” I replied. “Why?”

“Can you come here?”

“Here…? You mean your sister’s shop?”

“Yes! She wants to talk to you. You have to come. Bye!”

“Wai—”

The call ended.

I sighed. It sounded troublesome—but I knew better than to refuse. I couldn’t imagine what she’d do to me if I didn’t show up.

Fortunately, the shop was only a fifteen-minute walk from school.

“Souma! You’re here already!” Yua-san waved when she spotted me.

“It’s a beautiful shop,” I said honestly. “But are you sure no one recognizes you? There are a lot of people around.”

“She uses special makeup,” a woman’s voice replied. “That’s why she can work here safely. I’m the one who does it.”

That must be her sister. Their eyes were similar—both beautiful in different ways.

“Souma,” Yua-san said sharply, “why are you staring at my sister?”

Her glare nearly ripped my soul out.

“N-nothing! I was just thinking how alike you two are. I should’ve brought a gift. Coming empty-handed feels rude.”

That was a mistake.

“Ouch!”

Yua-san yanked my ear without mercy.

“Yuki-neechan, this is the idiot teacher I told you about—Takada Souma. Same age as me.”

“Let go of my ear! It’s going to tear!”

“She should pull harder,” Yua-san muttered.

That wasn’t even an apology.

“Hahaha! You two are hilarious,” her sister laughed. “Come inside before someone recognizes Yua.”

We went upstairs to the living space above the shop.

“Yuki-neechan, can I borrow a shirt?” Yua-san asked. “I want to change.”

“Sure. Put your clothes in the basket.”

“They’re not dirty! Just a little smelly!”

I was served tea shortly after.

“You can call me Yuki-san or Yuki-neechan—whichever you prefer,” she said kindly.

“Thank you, Yuki-san.”

She hesitated, then smiled softly.

“Sorry about earlier. It’s rare to see Yua act like that around anyone else. She seems happy with you.”

I paused.

“So… how is she?” Yuki-san asked.

“Yua-san?”

“Yes. Do you think she’s a bad person? After the scandal that forced her to withdraw…”

That was the real question.

“She’s a good person,” I said honestly. “Strong, thoughtful, and resilient. She never gives up. I admire her.”

Yuki-san looked surprised.

“That’s not how Yua described you. She said you’re bad at expressing feelings.”

“Maybe I used to be,” I replied. “But she’s also strong—especially her hands.”

“Y-yes,” Yuki-san agreed awkwardly.

Smack.

“Ouch! Why did you hit me?!”

“I’m sorry for having strong hands, Takada-sensei,” Yua-san said with mock innocence.

This woman…

“Souma-san,” Yuki-san said quickly, “I asked you here because I need help. Actually, it’s for a friend.”

“What kind of help?”

“She’s a teacher, like you. She discovered her fiancé is having an affair, and she doesn’t know what to do.”

“…Why me?”

“Yua recommended you. I’ve already asked her to come.”

Knock, knock.

“That must be her.”

Yuki-san went downstairs.

A fiancé…

For some reason, Fujiwara-sensei came to mind.

“Everyone,” Yuki-san said as she returned, “this is my friend. Fujiwara-sensei.”

My heart dropped.

“Nice to meet you,” she said—then froze.

“Takada-sensei?!”

I stared back, stunned.

How did this even happen?