'Showering'

it was easy to be ready. to be okay with anything, so long as nothing changed.

like so much smoke between my fingers, was a promise.

even if time flowed on. even if you went with it.

i would stay the same as always.

“Kotowa! you were here?!”

a shrill note of surprise brought motion back into the classroom, as ms. teto coughed aside a black thicket of air.

“Someone! please, open a window!”

this time, the students leapt into action. apparently, it had all happened too fast. from the looks of them, everybody had been going about their business, and all of a sudden, poof.

“Goodness gracious!” fubuki feinted a step inside, fanned her hands at full speed. “Sensei, are you serious? what were you cooking?!”

mitsuru dared a sniff. “Um... charcoal?”

“It was only a chocolate-caramel soufflé!” the home-ec teacher couldn’t seem to decide between protest and mourning. “And some rosebud macarons. i just wanted to try my hand at a new taffy recipe on the side, and—”

“M-miss, calm down.” andou was the first to brave the room, speaking with reserves of air he’d taken in a deep breath before shooting me a commiserating look and entering. “Let’s turn the heat off first, okay?”

“I can’t reach.” the fretful young woman was hunched desperately over the three of the pots that were nearby, though it wasn’t clear which of them was going to be a problem once she let her weight up. “Please, andou, i’m begging you...”

“Um, hey, kotowa?” the baseball captain glanced over. “Sorry to throw this your way, but could you do all the switches on the other side? there’s a lot...”

“sure—” i began to look for a place to set the bento down, before fubuki breezed ahead.

“—Don’t worry, kotowa! i got it!”

the two of them made quick work lowering the many, many gas burners that were going simultaneously, and my other classmates formed teams, sweeping the windows until some semblance of the breeze began to usher the thicker, burnt-crispier air safely out of breathing distance.

i watched the class cooperate, like a cohesive work of fabric fluttering at every edge.

there was only one girl hovering at the back of the class, watching the same way as me.

“It’s almost like we’ve been practising.” mitsuru leant over with a grin. “That’s what being in a class with sensei is like, huh?”

i smiled as she jogged over, taking ms. teto by the arm.

“Sensei, you okay?” she started checking the woman, more like an older sister, than a student. “Did you catch a burn somewhere?”

eventually, the crisis ms. teto had rallied us all around was dissipated. at least, what wasn’t still left behind clinging to the inside of the shiny, if slightly-sooty silver pots on the stovetops.

with the atmosphere clear, at least, the classroom collectively breathed a sigh.

“Now, then.”

slowly, ms. teto eased off the series of pots. steam billowed from the seals she’d released, and their metal lids shook, barely finding it in themselves to stay in place.

“—Kotowa!”

i was not so fortunate. as the woman who was proposed to be my teacher took a flying leap in my direction.
the only thing i could save from being strewn on the ground behind us was the pair of bento she’d forgotten – probably the very thing she was so happy about.

“—You brought them!” she fussed, on the verge of sobbing. “I was so hungry! i thought i would have to live off of soufflé and macarons for the entire day!—”

i let slip a small sigh of relief. almost a tragedy of her own making.

“of course.” i sat up, holding the boxes out.
“the alternative would have been terrible for your health.”

“My… you went that far out of concern for me?” ms. teto sniffed.

“this much was pretty normal—“ i said, my attention extending to those of my peers who were gathering around the two of us. “but you have to take care of yourself, miss. the rest of us’ll miss out if you’re not well.”

“Yeah, home-ec’s my favourite!” one of our classmates exclaimed.

“It wouldn’t be fun if not for you, sensei.” fubuki held out a hand for the lunchboxes, and more extended for ms. teto, and me.

ayane teto was a world-class chef, who moved home to the hilly outskirts of tokyo after a sound volley of ridicule that followed her appearance on a danish television show, and an american one, and in britain. 
what was said, or in which order she had appeared, i wasn't sure. only that allegedly she had changed her entire approach to her craft on each appearance, which made her seem as though she didn’t know what she was doing.

to anyone watching, that might seem like the case. but to anyone really watching, especially the people she fed, it was a different story.

“You guys...”

perhaps it was the fate of a mid-twenties prodigy who was really the first of her like, the first of her generation, that the world established simply wouldn’t take her seriously.

she took their hand, and joined the others in offering hers.

“By the way. Kotowa. It’s good to see you again...”

there was a question innocently percolating between the blinks of round, bright, razor-sharp brown eyes that really were like weapons, hardly concealed behind cute glasses and a fringe.

she didn’t seem ready for the look i wanted to give her.

nobody could be, and i certainly wasn’t ready to give it. i simply shook my head.

ms. teto was the reason i could thank for my beginnings at the café.

“sensei. i...”

“Hm?” she smiled. warm, welcoming, available. not at all ready.

neither was i.
i couldn’t summon the words to mind. i didn’t know enough to cause anything but a panic. not with the knowledge that the owner of my now-missing workplace was ms. teto’s closest friend.

i already loosened it from my head, as i shook it.

“it’s good to see you too, sensei.” i smiled.

“Aww...”

eventually, the woman caught sight of the class watching, and clapped in the attempt to cover her ongoing blush. sensei was the type to pick up momentum, so if anyone said anything sweet, or worse yet, mentioned the slightly bruised-looking pots that were only now calming down from their simmer, we would have more crises on our hands.

now that our pair of trump-cards had been played, it may have been best not to tempt fate.

“Gather into your teams again!” she called. “Check your heats, and remember to stir the things that need it­­­! let’s not repeat...”

“We know, miss.” One of the boys from the crews of window-sweepers waved his hand. “We’ll keep less than ten pots burning at the same time.”

“H-ha...” our teacher deflated. “Is that a challenge?”

in amongst the laughter, i saw as mitsuru went over to the pots, the only one brave enough to peer inside. braver than me, surely.

“You know,”

there was a crunch. the rest turned to watch mitsuru wince her way through a blackened shard of whatever had been left behind in the pots. she led us on a little journey with each moment her expression changed.

“You’re the only one i can think of who can make charcoal still taste delicious, sensei.”

the girl arrived at a grin.

“—Don’t touch that!” the woman squealed, trying to shoo mitsuru away from her blackened feast in the making, while raised, delighted voices almost drowned her out.
“Mitsuru, you’re going to upset your stomach!!”

the room’s warmth partnered with the myriad sweet scents it harboured, forming a dance that my classmate’s laughter played in faithful tune with. my senses all met with the gentle touch of their presence, satisfied, i felt i finally had room to get out of my head.

i turned it, quietly smiling, quietly wondering about the corner of the room, seemingly made of silence, where a girl was sitting.

neither with the same expression as any of the others, nor the same uniform.

“I—” ms. teto finally drew back to the front, staging herself behind the stoves at the head of the home-ec classroom.
“I’ve smelled enough smoke for one day! go tend to your own recipes, you hyenas!”

the reply everyone had been expecting to make came in unison.

“Yes, ma’am!”

fubuki was at my front before i even turned her way, extending a hand she’d found a moment to wipe clean.

“Right this way, kotowa!” she had the kind of smile that assured me i didn’t need to wonder about what she was thinking.

“right.” i accepted.

“Oh.” just then, ms. teto extended hers own, drawing the girl and i back into a last notice. “Kotowa, if it’s alright, i’d like to pair you up with ms. murasaki.”

“ms. murasaki.” i echoed, as a raised eyebrow cracked fubuki’s smile open.

“...Who?” she asked.

but already my eyes were wandering. i was past the point of wondering, as they reached the far corner of the room.

mine met with hers, the girl who was sitting there solemnly, looking back in the direction her name had been called.

“Can’t... we take both of them, miss?” fubuki insisted, turning to face sensei again. “We almost never get to talk to kotowa!”

“Your workstation can’t fit five people, i’m afraid.” ms. teto shook her head. “Besides...”

the woman gave a great sigh, as she relinquished one of her bento.

she held it out to me.

“The two of them are the only ones who didn’t bring ingredients, you see.”

...

eventually fubuki relented, though she promised to come calling come the beginning of morning break. it was already almost eleven.

i supposed that the intention was for today’s home-ec to supply its students with an early lunch, but given the smell of liquefied sugar and various fruity, chocolatey syrups, it was possible these dishes would serve as a rare treat, rather than a meal. or else, that this was the hand of ms. teto’s tastes in action.

despite busying themselves with preparation, i could feel an apprehensive glance from one of my classmates or another, paving the way for me with some sense of security.

'see you, bud.' i saw andou mouth from his island next to mitsuru.

i nodded.

ms. murasaki made no attempt to appear enigmatic, but her gaze, which was aimed far out past the row of windows, gave me no obvious cues to approach with.

“good morning.” i appealed directly. “it’s nice to meet you... my name’s kotowa.”

“kotowa.” the girl glanced up. her timing right, her movements soft, nothing left behind in her auburn eyes to give a clue where she was looking.

nothing she did gave me any sense on where to go from there. all i could do was wait for her to decide her response.

“i’m haru.” she said.

“ah...” i nodded, maintaining a smile. “then, please feel free to call me...”

Aki.

a total contrapost to ms. murasaki. the timing couldn’t be more wrong. 

a memory flashed, like a frigid wind that contained itself in my ribcage. only a flutter of it reached my ears.

Aki...

“that’s an interesting coincidence.” haru murasaki nodded.
“it’s nice to meet you, mr. autumn.”

she was pretty, like fubuki or mitsuru or ms. teto were, but something about her seemed to stay in reserve, a look in her eyes as though she was wary about being seen. her uniform set her apart from her surroundings, and she knew that the fact that she was aware of that was all too visible, if she did anything but sit quietly.

“you’ve...” i cleared my throat, as i drew up a chair opposite her, joining next to the row of windows. “have you eaten yet, today?”

she nodded.

“gotcha.”

it seemed reasonable to wait, since our surrounding classmates were still busy mid-recipe. going by the sound of casual chatter in the air, it would still be a while yet before they were ready.

i set the lunchbox down where it felt right, between us, but aside from us. the moment i had raised it into view, i had heard ms. murasaki’s stomach growl, but i got the sense eating simply wasn’t on her mind.

“as for chopsticks...” there were some ready in a ceramic pot beside us.

the home-ec class was set up almost like a restaurant, in some ways. other than the cooking equipment threading the middle of the room, the tables were knowingly styled for the scenery out the window, of the greenery of the park, the distant, slightly cloudy hills, the colours of town.

there was little to do in front of scenery like this, except look out.
waiting was just fine. but talking...

i glanced at ms. murasaki.

hovering on the edge of politeness and her own air of apprehension, the question of whether she wanted to say anything more hung in the balance.

“so, are you on a transfer program of some sort?” erring on politeness, i maintained the welcome i had been all-too received in, coming into a class like this.

“you know about them, don’t you?”

the girl wasted no time meeting my gaze, asking the question. she didn’t seem to care that the others could hear, or not.

“the Rivers.”