Break TIme: This Is Not Stalking

What the fuck is this???

Arata was slouched over the desk, his head in his hands. He had remained in that position long enough for it to start becoming a serious threat to his spine.

You had it! You had it RIGHT there! Why did you cross it out!?!?

What… just… What is that? That’s not a formula, is it?

He picked up the paper and brought it closer to his face.

I swear that’s not a real one… it’s… it’s not! DID YOU MAKE THAT UP!? There’s no correlation between them, why would you even try to use a formula here!? YOU DON’T NEED TO! Just—

The left side of his head throbbed. He immediately flattened his palm over it.

Oh no. This is too much for me. You didn’t even finish the paper—oh my goodness…

He dropped Ibuki’s exam onto the desk and leaned back. The chair rolled several centimetres before one of its wheels caught on the edge of the rug.

Agh… my head… That’s enough, I can’t do this anymore. What’s the time?

He turned in his chair to face the old analogue clock on the wall.

11:47

Oh shit, I’m cooked.

Okay, let’s just… let’s just note it all down. So, who did I check first? Right, Homura…

He let the chair recline until the backrest creaked, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

She usually doesn’t do terribly at the beginning, but then there were times when she’d see a question that was slightly harder and she’d just refuse to answer it, and then she wouldn’t complete the next five questions. Or she’d just, I don’t know, scribble random shit on the page?

His foot pressed against the floor, sending the chair into a slow turn.

Her handwriting’s absolutely awful, too. The English essay wasn’t even THAT bad, it was just impossible to actually read. Like, does anger physically travel down your arm and into the pen? How does handwriting get this violent?

His left hand wandered across the desk until it found a pen. He began flicking it between his fingers.

Then… Mizuki. Her prep doesn’t seem bad at all, but she just wastes so much time… That one poetry question in Japanese could’ve been answered in like, ten words. Why did she feel like writing a damn essay? She literally lost points for that. Of course, she didn’t finish most of the exams either. Her handwriting got worse near the end, too. And what were those warped spots on her maths paper? Did she spill something on it or what?

Meh, she’s just inconsistent. She clearly knows some of it, but then she completely falls apart on questions that aren’t even that different. Maybe she rushes? No, she writes too much for that. Maybe she overthinks it. Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be that hard to fix.

The pen slipped through his fingers, struck the side of the desk and fell onto the floor.

He planted a foot. The chair stopped turning.

Stupid pen. Kill yourself.

He pushed off the edge of the desk, sending the chair into a faster spin.

Nagisa… she didn’t even have two of her exams, who knows where they are. Sixteen out of a hundred in maths is… wow. I did see the sixteen on the train, but… it’s still hard to believe. Does she even try? Surely she could do better than that? It’s that same issue of skipping a bunch of questions, but she’s also, um… stupid. No, stupid isn’t the correct term. She doesn’t seem stupid, not in person. Also, stupid would be consistent. So how are her grades this bad? Ehh… her marks in Japanese weren’t terrible. If she had finished those last few questions, she could’ve passed.

I dunno what to do about her, to be honest. Does she just… not study or something?

He ran his fingers through his hair, only for them to catch halfway through.

Tsk. Why is it so tangled today?

And Ibuki… how do you even go about inventing formulas? This is ridiculous.

He rubbed his forehead.

Kasumi doesn’t have anything, I should’ve expected that.

He stopped the chair’s rotation and slouched over the desk once more.

“I’m not qualified for this. Seriously, why couldn’t I just say ‘believe in yourself!’ and magically make them smart?”

Arata closed his eyes.

That’s how it always works in those anime. Where do I even start…

He let his forehead fall against the desk.

Hmm… I need more than just this. I know where they went wrong, but not why.

His head snapped back up.

Should I go find them at school?

No, that’s stupid. Actually… it does make sense. I probably won’t get to tutoring yet since I’ll be moving in tomorrow, and it could be useful to know where they all sit and stuff…

Hm, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve seen any of them during this year like, ever. They’re in the same year as me, so where the hell are they disappearing off to?

Whatever. I’ll find them somehow.

________

The bell rang.

Arata jumped up from his seat and shot for the door within seconds.

“Hey, Kurosawa, can I borrow your notes?”

Arata stopped walking and kept his head down. “Lesson just ended and you’re immediately asking for my notes? You didn’t take your own or what?”

The boy rubbed the back of his neck. “Hah… well, the teacher explains pretty fast, doesn’t she?”

A sigh.

“Notes are in my bag. Second pocket, blue notebook. Don’t complain about how I structure them.”

“Ah, okay. Thanks!” He headed for Arata’s bag while Arata headed out.

The corridors were already filling up with people rushing out of their classes. Arata would usually wait a few minutes before leaving, but turning around now would look stupid.

Luckily, he had copied the sisters’ class numbers from the school’s paperwork the night before. He reached into his pocket for the folded sheet.

Arata had a plan. A very amazing, very well-thought-out plan.

The plan consisted of finding five people during break time in a school containing several hundred, watching them for an amount of time he had not decided on, and somehow determining the exact psychological reason behind their academic failures without making it obvious that he was following them around.

Don’t put it like that, it sounds like I’m stalking them.

Ibuki and Nagisa were in the same class, and it was the closest one to him, so naturally, he headed there first.

Arata took the right turn and saw their classroom right away. He peeked in through the door’s window.

There you are.

There were only three people left in the class. Ibuki was standing next to the front window on the left side of the room. A folder was tucked neatly against her chest, and she was talking to another student. This time, she had thin, white-rimmed circular glasses on.

You look smart with those glasses on. Take them off.

Nagisa was at the far end of the room, sitting on a desk, staring straight at the door.

…If you’re staring at the door, and I’m at the door, doesn’t that mean you’re staring at me?

She waved and grinned lazily.

I hate you.

Arata stepped away from the door, out of view.

I’ll wait for them to leave the class, would be weird to walk in with that other girl still there.

…

What are they even doing? Just get out already.

…

Arata stepped back in view.

Nagisa was still sitting on the desk, her legs now swinging beneath her. Her gaze had not moved, and neither had the grin on her face.

…Why are you staring at the door? Is this all you do? Were you expecting me to stalk you through the door—No wait, I’m not stalking you. That’s weird.

Ibuki was still conversing with the other girl.

Fine, fine.

Arata opened the door quietly.

“Stalking me, tutor?”

Ibuki’s and the other girl’s heads turned as Arata took a few steps into the classroom.

“It’s Kurosawa.” He could feel his ears warming up.

“Mm… didn’t deny it, I see.” She put both palms on the desk and shifted herself further onto it.

Arata turned to face Ibuki straight on.

The relaxed smile she had a moment ago disappeared, her shoulders tightening as she pressed the folder closer to her chest and lowered her eyes somewhere around his collar.

I sense that you’re scared of me.

He stepped closer.

That works.

“K-Kurosawa-san! What brings you here?”

Whatever embarrassment Nagisa had managed to drag out of him gave way to a flatter expression, his shoulders settling.

He side-eyed the girl beside Ibuki and narrowed his eyes, just a bit.

The girl stiffened.

“Ah… sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

She gave Ibuki a quick nod and hurried past him.

What’s she apologising for?

He turned back to Ibuki, who was still waiting for an answer.

I’ll take it, though. Makes things easier for me.

…

He grabbed her glasses by the bridge, lifted them away and held them in front of his own eyes. He then tilted them towards the window, inspected them from the other side, and pressed them back onto her face with more force than required.

Wow. They’re actually real.

Ibuki froze.

Then the folder shot up in front of her face, leaving only the top of her glasses and a pair of very wide eyes visible above it.

“W-WHAT WAS THAT!?”

She followed up with a string of noises that were definitely not words.

That… was not the reaction I expected.

“You didn’t have them on yesterday, I was just making sure they were real.” Arata put both hands in his pockets.

“O-OF COURSE THEY’RE REAL! IDIOT! WH-WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?” The folder lowered slightly, revealing her face, which may have changed shades. Her eyes shut, and the folder went back up.

You’re kidding…

Arata stared at the top of the folder before shifting his attention to Nagisa. “Anyway, I’m just trying to find out why everyone’s failing.”

Nagisa tilted her head. “The exams weren’t enough?”

“Well, no. Look…” He pulled a hand out of his pocket and reached back for his backpack.

His hand found nothing.

Oh shit.

“…No problem.”

Nagisa glanced at the empty space behind him.

“Basically, although the exams tell me where you went wrong, they don’t tell me why. I figured that, since I’m not in any of your classes, I should seek you out and—”

“Y-You haven’t explained why you did that yet!” Ibuki’s voice was muffled under the folder.

…

“—see if I can get any information as to why you’re failing.”

“DON’T IGNORE ME!”

Nagisa sighed. “Sorry, Kurosawa. I don’t think you’ll find any answers here.”

…

“Ibuki, you’re an idiot.” His gaze stayed fixed on Nagisa.

“EXCUSE ME? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU TODAY?!” The folder lowered again.

“What’s in that folder?”

Ibuki stopped.

Her eyes shifted down towards it, as if she had forgotten it wasn’t just a shield.

“Class stuff. D-Documents, official ones.”

Arata nodded slowly.

“A-Attendance corrections, club applications, a few forms for the upcoming examinations…” She lowered the folder completely and adjusted the papers inside. “Our teacher asked someone to organise them.”

“You volunteered this morning.” Nagisa stopped swinging her legs.

Ibuki turned towards her. “Nobody else was going to!”

Arata looked at the folder again. It was heavy enough that holding it against her chest so tightly had definitely become uncomfortable several minutes ago, but she had not put it down.

He cleared his throat. “Why are you doing this during break, anyway?”

“It’s the only free time I have. When else would I do it?” Ibuki hugged the folder back to her chest.

“Why not do it mid-class? It’s a pretty good excuse to skip.”

“Wh-Why are you suggesting that?! I thought you were a good student!” Her grip tightened around the edges.

“Just because I’m good at it doesn’t mean I wanna be there.”

“You’re hopeless! Hopeless, I say! There’s no way you’re a good tutor!”

“Okay, fine.” Arata gestured towards the nearest desk. “Drop the folder and sit down, I’ll teach you right now.”

Ibuki looked at the desk, then back at him.

“That’s unreasonable!”

“Oh noo, ‘unreasonable’?” Arata leaned forward. “I thought you were a good student.”

Ibuki took half a step back. Nagisa giggled.

Arata straightened back up. “Where ya taking that?”

Ibuki blinked. “The staff room.”

“Okay. Get a move on, then.”

She stared at him.

…

“What? You were doing something before I got here, weren’t you?” Arata took a step forward.

“Yes, but—” She took a step back.

“Then do it.”

Ibuki looked towards Nagisa, presumably in search of assistance.

Nagisa slipped off the desk.

“Come on, sis.”

Ibuki hesitated for another second before following her towards the door. Nagisa passed by Arata on the way.

“Find what you were looking for?”

“…”

Then they were both gone.

Arata walked over to the window and rested his forehead against the cool glass.

What a waste of time.

Well, Ibuki did not seem lazy. She had volunteered to waste her own break organising a folder thick enough to be considered a blunt weapon. At the very least, that ruled out one possibility.

He lifted his head from the glass and looked out at the courtyard, scanning the crowds for three black-haired girls.

What the fuck am I doing? Everyone’s got black hair here.

He turned and exited the classroom before unfolding the paper in his pocket again.

Okay. Ibuki and Nagisa, useless. Well, not useless. No, yeah, useless.

He looked down the corridor. Now, Kasumi.

A very reasonable person would have realised that there was no way in hell he was going to find Kasumi in a classroom during break time. Well, there was no way in hell he would find Kasumi anywhere during break time. Unfortunately, he was too deep in now.

He took a left.

Her classroom was farther down the hall, tucked near the stairwell. There was no one inside except a couple of students standing near the teacher’s desk, laughing at something on someone’s phone.

Kasumi was nowhere.

Maybe she’s short enough to be hidden behind a desk.

One of the girls near the teacher’s desk glanced at him. He turned around and left.

There was no need to unfold the paper anymore. He had stared at the thing for long enough to know where Mizuki’s classroom was.

He took the right, reached the stairs, and began climbing.

She studies. That’s the annoying part.

His hand slid along the rail without really gripping it.

If she didn’t study, this would be easy. ‘Study more.’ Bang, I did it. Give me my stipend.

He reached the landing.

But she does study, which is weird. How do you tell someone who’s putting in effort that the effort might be the problem? Or maybe the effort isn’t enough?

He climbed the second flight of stairs.

Effort by itself doesn’t mean anything. What’s the point of putting in hours of effort if another method would’ve gotten the same job done in half the time? Maybe it’s just that. Or maybe I’m giving her far too much credit, and she’s just an idiot too.

He continued down the corridor and stopped outside Mizuki’s classroom.

The room was empty.

Empty classrooms brought back bad memories.

He took a step inside and stared at the desks.

What am I doing?

He turned around sharply and left.

I thought you’d be there, studying or whatever. But fine, Homura next.

Homura’s class was downstairs, somewhere close to the courtyard entrance.

Damn, should’ve gone there first. This is going to take a while.

He made it down, retraced his steps to his own classroom, took two lefts, and—

“Are you stupid!? I never said that!”

Arata quickly took two steps back and hid behind the wall.

That was close.