Youth is a Lie. Side Stories
A collection of stories not included/removed from the main story, including optional epilogues for the work "Youth is a Lie".
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I.
— Hikigaya, tell me, do I look that unattractive?
— Sensei, where did you get such an idea?
— What do you think? I've been stood up on a blind date three times in a row! What is so bad about me, huh? — Hiratsuka sniffled and, downing the rest of her beer in one gulp, crushed the can with her palm, tossing the tin toward the trash can. Considering that this was far from the first serving—the unfortunate victim of cruel behavior bounced off the wall and joined the ranks of its companions, lifelessly scattered near the bin.
If any of my classmates were here, they would surely have a heart attack.
Not only is Hiratsuka Shizuka, famous in certain circles, sitting here in just a t-shirt and shorts, chugging alcohol in incredible quantities. But she is also doing it in the company of Hikigaya Hachiman, who—forgive your good-for-nothing son, Mom—is actively helping her dispose of the alcohol-containing liquids.
And the funny thing is, it's not the first time. I don't know the exact reason, but Sensei has made a habit of dragging me to bars or—at this point a male student in the active phase of puberty would explode on the spot—luring me back to her place to share the "bitterness of existence" with her.
It's not that I have any complaints, it just... looks kind of strange.
— I already told you, the problem is with your potential "suitors," — following her example, I finished my drink, but instead of trying to play basketball, I simply set the empty container aside.
I'd have to collect them all in the morning anyway.
— Perhaps, — Shizuka reached for the dried squid. — But do I have a choice? I'm surrounded by nothing but losers and heartless bastards...
The woman sighed and began to sadly chew on a piece of cephalopod, resting her head on her fist.
Mentally slapping myself, I tried to keep my gaze up, avoiding the possibility of glancing down at the tempting neckline of her house t-shirt. When will she finally throw it away? It's stretched out, the wrong size, and constantly slipping off one shoulder.
A torture device, nothing less.
— All they know is to stare at my chest with their vulgar little eyes. Can't even talk or have a drink, — okay, judging by the change in her voice—Hiratsuka is close to the state of: "no one loves me and no one needs me."
However, Sensei is almost always in that state, but the crucial difference is that with a certain amount of alcohol in her blood, she punctuates her complaints with bitter tears.
— See? And you say you're not attractive, — I chuckled, reaching for the next can.
— Hey, hey, don't overdo it, — Shizuka hiccupped, wagging her finger at me. — How will I look your parents in the eye after that?
I hummed, opened the beer with a familiar gesture, and took a deep, satisfying gulp.
I pondered, stirring the remnants of my sober thoughts, then, squinting, carefully examined the label.
— Is something wrong? — noticing my confusion, Sensei asked, critically choosing her next victim for draining.
— No, — I stroked my chin. — It's just surprisingly tasty.
— Tasty? — Hiratsuka stared at me, then, unable to hold back, laughed loudly. — That's coming from the guy who looked like I was trying to poison him the first time we did this!
— Sensei, — I coughed, set the can aside, and gave the teacher a meaningful look. — Firstly, you shouldn't use such ambiguous expressions; I've already told you I might interpret them differently than you intend. Secondly, that night I literally said goodbye to my alcohol virginity thanks to your efforts. What did you expect? That I would immediately fall in love with this strange taste?
The woman sighed and "shamefully" lowered her gaze, bringing her index fingers together.
Kami, she is definitely going to kill me with her intoxicated behavior one day. And no, the problem isn't that she burdens my mind with monotonous lamentations—I've become quite used to that.
The sticking point is elsewhere: Shizuka, even when sober, manages to blurt out phrases and emotions so uncharacteristic of her position that I sometimes risk losing my sanity. However, all of that pales in comparison to when alcohol expertly throws her restraints aside, allowing the woman to use her natural charm and allure to the fullest. And—the cherry on top!—she doesn't fully realize what she's doing.
— I expected you to fall in love with me... — Hiratsuka's quiet remark slammed into the orderly formation of my thoughts, splattering them thinly across the asphalt.
— Sensei, — exhaling loudly, I leaned my head back, covering my face with my hands.
— What is it, Hikigaya? — And her tone was so bewildered, as if she genuinely didn't realize the meaning of the phrase she'd just uttered.
She's going to kill me.
She is absolutely going to kill me one day.
And the most, damn it, problematic thing is: such a death even looks tempting.
II.
— President, there's a proposal from the prefectural administration about holding a joint event for high schools.
Setting aside the report on the scheduled grounds cleanup, I looked at Atsuko. Meeting my gaze, Tanaka smiled nervously and handed me a small stack of documents.
— I take it participation is voluntarily mandatory? — Taking them in hand, I quickly skimmed the bolded lines.
— Unfortunately, — the guy tried not to speak too loudly, avoiding attracting unnecessary attention from the other student council members.
I still don't understand why he showed up here: it seemed to me he had had enough problems serving as my vice-president during the Cultural Festival. However, when I saw his name on the list of future candidates to replace the students who left with Meguri, I didn't hesitate for long. After all, it's clearly easier to work with him than with completely unfamiliar individuals.
— I see, — sighing, I put the "invitation" aside and, leaning back in the leather chair—one of the few perks of being the president—rubbed my eyelids with my fingers. — How many people do they need from us, and by what deadline?
— By December twentieth, preferably about fifty people from the first and second years, — Tanaka reported instantly. — Gender is irrelevant, the main thing is that they actively participate. The task is to take part in a parade, optionally—to perform several songs as part of a choir.
The perfect subordinate, nothing less. Clear, concise, and to the point.
So, by December twentieth?
Hmm, ignoring something like this would be the height of idiocy.
— Will they be singing the national anthem at the top of their lungs? — Grinning wryly, I stood up in one motion, causing the treasurer sitting nearby to flinch. Atsuko himself, already accustomed to my abrupt actions, merely curved the corners of his lips. — Then let's not put this off. Please, sort through the remaining papers for me. You just need to cross-reference the numbers and note who decided to ignore it. For the latter—check their penalty points from the past.
— Understood, — Tanaka nodded, ignoring a couple of dissatisfied glances thrown his way by the old-timers of the student council, knowing that's all it would amount to.
They tried once to complain about the guy's "rapid" advancement, becoming my deputy in a month, but they quickly quieted down.
As the saying goes: "The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter."
After a couple of minutes of leisurely walking, I arrived at the teacher's lounge door and, without wasting time, knocked, entering immediately without waiting for permission.
— Hikigaya, breaking etiquette rules again? — Hiratsuka chuckled, letting out a cloud of smoke from her nostrils.
— I'm following your example, — I scanned the room and, seeing no one else, collapsed onto my favorite guest sofa.
Shizuka winced slightly, forcefully extinguishing her cigarette in the ashtray. I wonder if any of the other teachers complained about her constantly smoking in the workplace?
— You should be picking up something positive from people, — Sensei fully turned towards me. — So, what are you going to burden me with today?
— You know me so well, — I wiped an invisible tear with my finger. — My soul rejoices.
— You don't have one, — the woman stated dryly, crossing one leg over the other. — Just spit it out; I least like drawing out bad news.
She seems to be in a foul mood today. Hmm... she's also wearing almost no makeup, which means she either overslept or was dragged to work early. Plus, there are coffee stains visible on her robe, which in itself is a significant detail confirming my theory. Usually, a certain someone, despite her outward sloppiness, is extremely responsible about her appearance.
Specifically, at work. At home... well, there's nothing to say in her defense there.
— Fine, fine, — leaning back slightly, I loosened the knot of my tie. — Actually, it's nothing special: I urgently need fifty people for a whole day to participate in another event.
— Again? It hasn't been a month since the last one... — Shizuka frowned. — We already have difficulties completing the curriculum, and you're proposing to add more problems?
— Me? — I pointed demonstratively at my chest. — I'm not proposing anything; I'm simply informing you and asking for help in execution.
— Is the Student Council President incapable of solving the issue himself?
— With all due respect, influencing the academic schedule is beyond my capabilities, — I calmly countered her attempt to shift responsibility. — It's one thing if I needed students after class; that's no problem—I'll gather and send them myself. It's another thing when they are requested for a full day, and not just one, considering the nature of the event.
— Then go to the Principal, — Hiratsuka waved her hand dismissively. — His authority is much broader.
— Sensei, with all my affection for you, — I sighed briefly, — I'm not ready to violate the sacred principle of the hierarchy of power.
Shizuka gave me a heavy look, as if debating whether to strangle me or punch me.
— I can't imagine how Haruno puts up with you, — giving up, Shizuka rubbed her forehead. — What date do you need the people for?
After all, she almost never withstands pressure, especially when the request is objectively valid from the start.
— December twentieth, first and second years.
Several emotions flashed across her face, finally settling on a strange resignation.
— Hikigaya, couldn't you just tell me right away that you need participants for the parade in honor of the Emperor's Birthday? — If we weren't at school, she probably would have spat. — How were you guys even assigned to this? Everything has already been decided!
It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
— What do you mean?
— Exactly what I said, — the teacher flicked a fresh cigarette from the pack and lit it. — Events of this scale are decided long before they start, and certainly not by the student council.
— I see, — I scratched my chin. — So, they just over-prepared?
— Or the administration messed something up, — the woman shrugged, expertly blowing a smoke ring.
— Then we can relax, — I unintentionally smiled.
The woman glanced at me and unexpectedly smirked.
I blinked.
The hint of good humor evaporated as if it had never been there.
— No, no, don't even think about it!
— Sorry, Hikigaya, it's not within my authority to decide such issues, — Shizuka clicked her tongue. — So you and your guys will have to proudly show your faces outside at the front of the whole crowd.
A whole day outside, in the cold?
Kami, what glorious prospects...
— Why the sour face, Hikigaya? — Sensing an opportunity, Hiratsuka continued to press, grinning contentedly. — Or do you think a national holiday can be ignored? Where is your spirit as a true Japanese man?!
Rolling my eyes, I weakly raised my hand:
— Hooray-y-y...
— Now that's better, — shaking off the ash, Hiratsuka cleared her throat. — Damn it, I'll quit, I definitely will quit.
— I've heard you say that three times now, — I pointed out.
— You could at least offer some support for decency's sake, — Shizuka snorted, not at all bothered by my remark.
— I apologize, that's impossible. Otherwise, my carefully constructed image of a shameless and immoral tyrant would collapse, — I let out a short laugh, mentally resigned to the upcoming fate of trudging through the snow in my boots, if it even falls, which isn't often.
Ideally, having received all the necessary information, I should return to the student council to continue working on the documents...
But why, when there's Atsuko?
Besides, trading Sensei's company for work... What do they take me for?
— Tyrant, — the teacher shook her head. — I haven't been working at this school for that long, but this is definitely the first time I've encountered students managing to hate their president in a couple of miserable months.
— I don't know anything about that, — I spread my hands. — I'm performing my core duties.
— You are performing them, I won't argue, however... — she paused, narrowing her eyes. — Is it absolutely necessary to make everyone listen to the school charter over the loudspeaker every morning?
— Call a person a pig a hundred times, and they'll start grunting, — I raised my index finger in the air.
— Be careful, they'll catch you after school someday, and then you'll know, — having finished polluting her lungs, Hiratsuka stretched tiredly, which made her dark blouse stretch temptingly around her chest, briefly exposing a strip of white skin on her stomach.
— Are you worried about me? I'm touched, — I put my hand to my heart. — But it would be better if you gently embraced me and whispered for me to stop.
— Get lost, — Shizuka replied without malice, throwing a crumpled ball of paper at me.
— What mature behavior, — chuckling, I twirled the caught object between my fingers. — However, thank you for yet another object of worship for my home altar.
This time I managed to "get to her": the woman choked on air and became slightly embarrassed.
I have to go further and further each time. And, the most pleasant thing is, she allows me to.
— Hikigaya! Mind the boundaries! — coming to her senses, the teacher sat up slightly. — Or do you really want a taste of my "love"?
Apparently, to prevent me from theorizing about the meaning of her words, she cracked her knuckles.
Okay...
Do we risk it or not?
However, this is the perfect time to definitively confirm the available possibilities.
— You know, Sensei, — just in case, I stood up to make it easier to bolt for the door. — A psychoanalyst once said that sadists in everyday life—in bed...
Shizuka's sudden lunge didn't allow me to finish. Fortunately, I was prepared for it, so I managed to dodge aside and quickly reach the door, opening it slightly and stopping in the doorway.
Hiratsuka, frozen near the sofa where I had been sitting a second ago, exhaled loudly.
— Hikigaya... — oh, what definitely doesn't get old is her ability to pack the entire spectrum of emotions and experiences into my last name.
I even felt a little awkward.
— Yes, Sensei? — I feigned innocence.
Shizuka stood up, looked me in the eyes, and opened her mouth to say something, clearly not complimentary, but, changing her mind, she waved her hand.
— Forget it, — the woman muttered almost inaudibly to herself, rubbing the bridge of her nose. — Just tell me, are you free Saturday evening?
I couldn't help but laugh.
— What? — the teacher protested.
— Nothing, — mentally slapping myself, I cut off the attack of inappropriate merriment. — Sensei, why the silly questions? I'm always free for you.
And, after thinking, I added:
— By the way, I know a pretty good motel...
A forcefully thrown magazine loudly slammed into the closed door, making an echo down the hallway.
Ignoring the glances of the random students nearby, I proudly adjusted my tie.
Someone might say that I've completely lost it to pull off something like this, but I have an excellent answer that addresses all questions about my behavior, which consists of three words:
"Tenno Heika Banzai!"
III.
All jokes aside, once again returning from Hiratsuka's place, I again asked myself a completely logical question...
Why me?
And the reason for the question is not hidden in my low self-esteem, as it might seem at first glance.
The situation itself, if examined from a rational point of view, looks ridiculously absurd. A seventeen-year-old student is drinking with a teacher, nine years his senior, in her private apartment, talking to her as if she were his peer, and constantly throwing out rather vulgar phrases. Surreal? In a way, yes. However, the main feature is that both Shizuka and I find it... normal? No complaints, nothing. As if we were friends, although, again, our status dictates otherwise.
Collapsing onto a bench in a small park near my house, I opened a can of Max Coffee and, taking a sip, bent over, lowering my head.
Moreover, some kind of turning point happened in Kyoto. Could my agreement to drink beer with her have influenced things so much that our status changed from "teacher-student" to "drinking buddies"?
Someone might say, "Hachiman, why are you beating around the bush? Grab the woman and arrange a bright future together!"
Let's assume, purely hypothetically, that I really could cross the line and somehow persuade Shizuka into a romantic relationship.
But... do I need it?
In other words, putting aside the hormonal game—can I imagine a life together with Hiratsuka, say, ten years from now?
Right.
A house, similar to the one I live in now. I go to work at a large company, sometimes stay late, but I know that at home, someone will always be waiting... umm.
I scratched my chin.
Ideally—a home-cooked meal. But for some reason, I have serious suspicions that Sensei's cooking skills leave much to be desired. I'm one hundred percent sure there will be a couple of cans of cold beer in the fridge. Or maybe there won't be? After all, having children would interfere with Shizuka's usual heavy drinking.
Wait. Children?
I rocked the can of the drink, looking somewhere ahead.
Children... acceptable. A girl who looks like Komachi but with clear Hiratsuka features. From me—partially the personality and hair color. Loud, energetic, but able to think about the reasons for her actions in time and...
Blinking, I shook my head, chasing away the images that flooded my mind.
In any case, this only works in the theory of a distant future. Right now, I'm just a high school student without any clear prospects, so my reflections remain wet fantasies with no solid basis in reality.
The main thing is that I have an answer to the current question: yes, I can imagine a future with Sensei.
Does that give me anything?
No.
Shizuka's opinion on this matter remains unknown, as I likely overthought things that have nothing to do with reality. And finding out the truth is not possible at the moment.
Standing up, I finished the coffee in two gulps and, crushing the can, threw it into the trash.
Sometimes I hate my habit of reflecting on every convenient or inconvenient occasion.
Why can't I just turn off my brain and stop thinking?...
IV.
The setting sun painted the sky in a soft pink hue.
Barely perceptible gusts of winter wind fluttered the dry branches of the trees, sprinkling the people passing beneath with snow dust.
An alluring woman sat across from me, biting her lips and casting languid glances my way.
There was no one else in the room, just the two of us.
No one said a word; the atmosphere did everything for us, filling our hearts with the fervent anticipation of the end of the endless preliminaries.
— Hikigaya, I can't take it anymore... — Hiratsuka whispered softly, looking deeply into my eyes.
— Endure it, Sensei, it's hard for me to hold back too, — I replied, feeling droplets of sweat running down my forehead.
— Why hold back? When we can simply cast aside these formalities, — the tone of her voice became even lower, carrying a light vibrating quality.
— Just a little longer.
— I truly... — she didn't finish the sentence, swallowing.
— You mustn't rush. You'd better stop tempting me and get to work!
Shizuka pouted.
— Tyrant.
— I don't know anything about that, — I sighed. — You asked for help with preparing the documents for the upcoming graduation yourself. Or were you planning to just dump everything on me and observe from the sidelines?
— And is that not allowed? — the teacher blinked innocently.
Setting aside yet another student evaluation, I gave her a hard look.
— Not allowed, — I stated dryly, pushing the checked reports towards her. — Check them, and don't forget to sign.
— I don't want to, — the woman mumbled childishly, crossing her arms over her chest.
— What do you want? — Spitting it out, I untied my tie and, pulling it over my neck, tossed it aside. It was, of course, a violation of the school dress code, but considering that only Sensei and I were left in the building, along with the guard asleep at his post—there was no one to reprimand me.
— The ability to put my feet up on the desk, take the gamepad in my hands, and finally beat the new Final Fantasy game, — Hiratsuka reached for her cigarettes, but froze when I frowned. — Come on, stop it! What's the big deal?
I silently pointed my finger at the trash can, where a stack of papers lay with characteristic burn marks.
— So what? My hand slipped; it happens to everyone. Do I have to give up cigarettes entirely now?! — The indignation could be scooped out with a ladle.
— At least refrain from smoking until we finish the work...
I paused briefly, critically assessing Hiratsuka's state and, mentally giving up, added:
— However, if you really want to fill your lungs with nicotine, do it far away from any possible sources of ignition.
Despite my "permission," the discontent emanating from the woman only intensified.
— You're an asshole, Hikigaya, — wincing, Hiratsuka stopped slacking off and, clicking her pen, began signing the documents.
— Why? Are you too lazy to step aside? — I inquired ironically.
— When someone tells you, "Fine, eat your damned chocolate, but if you get diabetes, you have only yourself to blame"—would you eat it? — Shizuka raised an eyebrow.
— I didn't know reverse psychology worked on you; I'll keep that in mind for the future.
A resigned groan came from Sensei, but, to my relief, Shizuka continued to clear the piles of papers from the past semester. And how did she manage to accumulate so much? Even I, with all my laziness, try to resolve most issues immediately, because, in accordance with the wise words of a certain person:
"A lazy person will do everything quickly and efficiently to get more time for rest. A workaholic, on the other hand, does the opposite, dragging out the process and depriving himself of the opportunity to relax."
An hour later, when the sun had finally disappeared below the horizon, giving way to the pale crescent moon, Hiratsuka threw up her hands and exclaimed loudly:
— Finished!
Having placed the final signature—why should the student council president even have to sign documents of this format?—I tossed the pen aside and leaned back tiredly on the sofa.
— Next time, I won't agree to something like that, — wincing, I rubbed my eyes, which felt as if they had been liberally splashed with sand.
— Next time, you won't be around for me to stress out, so don't worry about it, — Hiratsuka dismissed me with a wave of her hand.
My heart involuntarily twinged at her words.
— So you are leaving after all? — I clarified.
— Yep, — Sensei yawned, covering her mouth with her palm. — Of course, there was still a chance to hang over your head until graduation, but it didn't work out.
One of the strange elements of our educational system was that, for some reason, teachers were constantly "circulating" among schools, replacing each other every three to six years. I don't remember when this was introduced or if it only applied to younger teachers, but the fact remained—next school year, Sensei would be supervising and mentoring students at a completely different institution.
— That's a shame, — I chuckled. — I was hoping you'd be in the front row, wiping away tears of relief at the realization that you wouldn't have to see my face again after graduation.
— Pfft, dream on, — Shizuka gave me a side glance, smiling maliciously. — Or do you actually think I'll leave you alone after you graduate?
I raised an eyebrow.
— Should I interpret your words as a unique declaration? Thank you, I'm touched to the depths of my soul, — I placed a hand over my heart.
— Firstly, you don't have one, — the teacher bent back her index finger. — Secondly, stop trying to ambiguously interpret every phrase I say!
— I can't help myself, — how temptingly she yawns; it makes me want to yawn too. — It just happens. You can consider it my way of trying to convince myself that you also harbor the most tender and delicate feelings for me.
— What if I actually do? — Hiratsuka countered with a cunning smile.
I paused to think.
— In that case... — I curled the corners of my lips and fell silent.
Sensei waited for a minute, but realizing I wasn't going to continue, she knitted her brows:
— Hikigaya? What would you do then?
— It's a secret.
I just laughed briefly at her look of pure annoyance.
V.
What is the main drawback of visiting shopping malls on weekends?
The answer is obvious: the massive number of people who suddenly decided to spend their free time on often meaningless expenditures. Consequently, there's an increased chance of getting stuck in a queue and simultaneously going deaf from the din of the human masses.
This is precisely why I always prefer to wander through stores strictly on weekdays, ideally before the end of the workday. Of course, such an opportunity rarely arises, which is why I sometimes have to put up with the inconvenience. Especially when one little pest decided she absolutely had to have some limited edition toy from a recently released anime, and she managed to get sick, meaning she couldn't go out herself.
Still, things could be much worse if I had to go to Akihabara, because what goes on there on a Sunday... I'll just say this: our shopping mall looks deserted compared to that famous Chiyoda district.
Stopping on the first floor, I tried to find the right banner that would tell me where to go. If memory serves, Komachi said the toy department was somewhere near the jewelry section. Great lead, considering I'd already counted about five of those.
Ah, I think it's over there. At least, the drawn panda with a strange scar on its face clearly resembles the one I saw on my sister's phone wallpaper.
Trying to elegantly weave through the people, I began to carefully push toward my goal, mentally begging Buddha for a miracle—for some reason, I absolutely did not want to stand in a gigantic queue.
Emerging from the noisy flow of people, with a distinct feeling that the worst had passed, I surveyed the room and exhaled in relief.
No, of course, there were customers, but, fortunately, not as many as there could have been.
A minor detail remained—finding the right panda among all the variety displayed on the shelves. Considering the fact that most of the toys look the same to me, the task was non-trivial.
Although, I'm perfectly capable of asking a consultant for help, thereby easing my suffering, right?
Spotting the necessary person, I hummed.
Judging by the children and their mothers surrounding him, getting through to the young guy with the name tag on his chest would be difficult.
Fine, I'll have to rely on Komachi's verbal descriptions and my own memory. The brilliant idea of downloading a photo of the plush buddy myself came to me too late. And I don't want to call my sister; she just took her medicine and fell asleep.
Plus, I pretended not to understand her hint, so the little one sincerely thinks she won't be able to get the coveted addition to her collection.
Sometimes I enjoy giving pleasant surprises. Even if it's only for one person.
I'll also see what's in fashion now: in recent years, my tastes have become quite specific, so I consciously skipped most trends, not wanting to clutter my mind.
Slowly walking between the aisles, I thoughtfully examined the bright boxes, involuntarily smirking at the sight of especially strange images used for what was ostensibly a regular panda. Here you have a pirate costume, an astronaut costume, and—I barely contained my laughter—something vaguely resembling a BDSM fan. Most likely, the designer intended something else, but my warped mind could interpret the leather-clad toy no other way than as a lover of whips and sophisticated safe words.
At one point, I found myself near a huge pyramid-shaped stand, completely covered in boxes featuring a bear in a... magical girl costume? Ahem...
Raising an eyebrow, I picked up one of the items, looking at the bright, eye-catching inscription.
"Limited Edition."
Logically, this is exactly what my little sister is craving.
But, first of all, I take back my words: the S&M style looks quite reasonable compared to this "product."
Secondly... fifteen thousand yen? Seriously?
No, I fully understand that such merchandise often serves exclusively to make extra money off rabid fans or children who are drawn to cool visuals, but...
Fifteen thousand! For the exact same panda, just in a magical girl costume! A simple model! With a costume!
They've completely lost their nerve—profiting in this way. There are no decent words for it.
— Wow! Such attention to detail, the patterns on the wand perfectly match those depicted in the canon, — an admiring whisper beside me made me freeze.
Looking towards the voice, I blinked a couple of times.
Umm...
— It's unexpected to run into you here, Sensei, — although I didn't say it too loudly, the woman leaning nearby froze like a statue, then slowly, like a robot, turned her head and met my gaze.
— H-Hikigaya? — Shizuka squeaked faintly.
— In the flesh, — suppressing a chuckle, I glanced over her appearance. — An interesting combination. It suits you.
A beige ankle-length trench coat, a gray scarf covering the lower part of her face, and huge sunglasses. A black beret pushed back on her forehead completed the ensemble.
A real agent undercover.
Well, from those comedic TV series and cartoons for kids.
— Thank you, — Hiratsuka muttered automatically, apparently still in shock that I had seen through her "brilliant" disguise.
However, to the woman's credit, if I hadn't heard her voice, I wouldn't have noticed.
— What are you doing here? — Recovering, the teacher quickly straightened up and tried to put the box with the toy she was clutching back on the shelf. However, having narrowly avoided knocking over the entire structure, she could think of nothing better than to hide it behind her back.
— I'm buying a gift for my little sister, — I answered honestly and winced slightly. — Only the price raises logical questions. I think they've overdone it.
— Not at all! — the woman immediately bristled. — This is a limited edition Pan-san from the Magical Kingdom of Reed! Only... ahem... were ever released.
She hesitated awkwardly.
— In that case, — I tucked the box under my arm. — I'll have to buy it, even if my budget ends up weeping bitter tears afterward.
Yes, right now, nothing is stopping me from properly teasing Hiratsuka. Like, tsk, tsk, Sensei, aren't you ashamed to be interested in such nonsense at your age and so on, since I have the opportunity.
However, to be frank, judging someone for their tastes is the lowest thing to do. Of course, there are certain boundaries that shouldn't be crossed, but Shizuka's hobby doesn't fall into those categories.
She loves plush pandas in strange costumes, and she loves them. What's the big deal?
— You really appreciate your sister, Hikigaya, — Hiratsuka smiled, pulling down her scarf.
I could only shrug.
— How else?
— It looks a bit unrealistic, — Shizuka added, finishing hiding the toy behind her back, instead hugging it to her chest.
— Perhaps, — I lifted the corners of my mouth. — I prefer not to dwell on how strange my relationship with my sister looks to outsiders, at least until the most disgruntled people start chasing us with torches and pitchforks.
— And if they do?
I thought about it.
— In that scenario, I'll have to pull the trophy machine gun out of my stash.
Looking at my "serious" expression, Shizuka quietly burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her palm.
But the next second, all traces of her amusement were gone. Moreover, for some reason, she grabbed my sleeve, sharply spun me around, and hid behind my back.
— Don't move! — Sensei hissed.
Confused by her strange actions, I looked up.
Ah, I see...
Sagami Minami and her clique were standing near the store window, discussing something with interest and pointing their fingers.
Spotting me, the girls' eyes widened in surprise, then they exchanged glances and giggled. The former organizing committee head didn't hesitate to take out her phone and snap a couple of photos, smirking cunningly.
Satisfied with what they saw, the classmates gave me a final malicious look and walked away.
— You can come out now, Sensei, the danger has passed, — I chuckled, moving aside slightly to allow the woman to stand up straight.
— Thank you, — Shizuka said awkwardly. — If students saw me in a place like this, I don't know...
— Yes, I agree, reputation is easily damaged, — I needed to remember to add "trouble" for Minami later. She seems to be feeling too free.
Oh, we have a New Year's event coming up. And I have an excellent candidate for the role of "walking" advertisement.
It's not that I care that she photographed me in a place like this. The very fact of unauthorized filming is annoying.
To the teacher's relief, no more unexpected situations arose.
We calmly paid for our purchases—my inner cheapskate stoically endured the sound of the cash register closing—and left the shopping center without any further distractions. Apparently, Hiratsuka, like me, came here with a clear purpose.
— I hate winter, — the woman muttered, wrapping her scarf tighter.
Lifting my head to the sky, I exhaled a cloud of steam, watching the flurry of snowflakes.
— Just another season, — I hid my free hand in my pocket. — But in weather like this, it's perfect to sit somewhere warm and drink coffee.
Speaking of which, I should brew some when I get home. Hmm, maybe with cinnamon. I haven't added that in a while...
— I prefer hot chocolate.
I shifted my gaze to Shizuka, who was looking at me with a strange expression for some reason. Well, I assume it was strange—essentially, I could only see her nose.
— Sensei has a sweet tooth? — I smirked.
— Just so you know, sweets have a beneficial effect on the brain! — Hiratsuka wagged her finger didactically in the air, then, looking away, quietly added: — But actually, I was just saying that I know a good cafe nearby.
— Should I interpret that as an invitation? — Raising an eyebrow, I checked the time.
In principle, an extra hour wouldn't make a difference. Especially in good company.
— Stupid question. Consider it a thank you for saving my image among the students.
— As your heart desires, — I made a semblance of a bow. — My job is to accept such an offer.
— Really? — Did she really think I would refuse? Because a distinct relief and joy flickered in her tone. — Then let's go!
And without waiting for me, Shizuka hurried towards the parking lot.
— Are you driving today? — I tried to spot the familiar minivan.
— What idiot would walk in this cold if they have the chance to drive? — the woman snorted, pulling the keys from her pocket and pressing the remote.
A red sports car, parked a little distance from us, blinked its headlights invitingly.
— How do you like my baby? — Noticing my shock, Shizuka asked with pride in her voice, opening the driver's door. — It's an Aston Martin V8 Vantage, 2005 model.
— You know... — I scratched my cheek. — A teaching career doesn't look as hopeless as it first seemed.
Because the presence of such a "beast" suggests the following things.
Either the government pays teachers quite generously.
Or Hiratsuka is actually the daughter of a mafia boss.
— Hikigaya, stop spacing out, get in already, — Hiratsuka shouted, honking the horn a couple of times for emphasis.
— Are you in a hurry? — Once in the passenger seat, I looked at Shizuka, who clearly enjoyed getting rid of the beret and scarf, and had half-unzipped her coat.
— What do you think? — Sensei waited for me to buckle up, then backed up.
Perhaps I should reconsider my opinion about shopping malls on weekends.
In rare cases, visiting them can bring unexpected but pleasant bonuses to life...