Puzzle Pieces

I h4ve a box.

Inside, c3F1YXJlcyB3aXRoIHNpbWlsYXIgc2l6ZSw=

RWFjaCB3aXRo different t33th,

Each to bWFrZQ== an imaGe.

Br1ght h_es and Y2Fjb3Bob25vdXMgbXVzaWMs

V29tZW4gYW5kIG1lbg== in suits.

SaNit1zed air and c3RlbmNoIG9m soot.

The society.

C00l colors and cXVpZXQ= libraries.

VW5pcXVlIGJ1dCB1bmlmb3JtLg==

Fri3d foods and criSp air.

The U2Nob29s club

Auburn and sassy,

A part of my soul.

Chocolate and coffee,

The final piece.

Each of these cGljdHVyZXMs

Are Y29tYmluZWQ= tog_ther,

To f1t a YmlnZ2Vy picture.

Me.

Sometimes, there are days where I question myself; 'why am I doing this'? It's a riddle that will grace you—anyone, for that matter—at the age of maturity, or maybe even before. You feel like you've seen everything, done all that you can do, and hear all that you need to make you think 'hey, maybe I've understood enough of this world to take advantage of it'; after all, it's no secret that anyone is out for themselves in this blasted reality. For example, as much of a dick Kitamura-senpai is, he really is only looking for his own gains as the perfect opportunist—blackmail, fame, maybe even wealth; all amounts to keep your head above the water and survive the next day. It is after all, a part of the 'social contract' detailed in Thomas Hobbes' 'Leviathan'. Mix in 'Dunbar's number' into the fray, and one can conclude that not only are we biased as a species, but we're also assholes not by design or circumstances—we just are. Whether we remain to act upon it depends on the individual in question. After our incidental rendezvous, I was vying for...revenge, a moment to 'get even', so to speak; but she—Monika—made me promise; a promise to maintain what moral integrity and conviction I have, to never stoop to his level, to be the 'better man'—the person she'll be proud to support and love.

But this world, this…reality…it doesn't work that way. Sacrifices has to be made, even if it means your own moral integrity.

"I really think you should stay home, Dh7eK=," she said with her arms crossed. "It's best not to push yourself when you're in that state."

Hastily I chug the brownish-black liquid in my cup, setting the empty cup down in the sink. "And if I do, who's going to keep you fed, Mo-chii?"

"I don't—oh, can you please stop calling me that?"

I open one of the desk's drawer, chuckling silently at how flustered she is with the pet-name—something I came up with two days ago, by the way. "But it's cute!"

She sighs and replies with one of the cutest pout, like a puppy; I'll never get tired of that look of hers…

"Why is my nickname always have to be associated with food? Natsuki came up with Mon-Ika before, and you," emphasize on 'me', "Call me 'Mo-chii' after an episode of 'T4BI NO KAxRI'! So why is that, hmm…?"

"Maybe…" I quickly interject. "Maybe it's because you're so delicious I could eat you."

"…you're such a…"

She pauses.

"…I'll let you win this time…"

With a flustered expression and a hint of moue, Monika bashfully looks to the side and avoid any and all eye contact for the moment. Cute; I may have gained a 'speech-check bonus' out of that.

Rummaging through the drawer, I reach in for a packet of face mask I've kept in storage for some time and take a piece for myself to wear during the day. As much as I celebrate the coming of autumn, it's also wise to consider one's health—and those around you—so everyone can celebrate the festivities of the harvest month. It's been a week since our heart-to-heart conversation and everything gradually is shifting back to the usual routine we are accustomed to. The overtime can still be quite unbearable, Kitamura-senpai still hounds me with the seemingly endless work pushed to my table, and the economic situation on my end still isn't improving as I'd hope to be; it's scary to think that I've grown used to all this and finds it all 'normal'.

But it isn't because of how I perceive society and life, or how I've grown far too accustomed to it—that may be a part of the reason, but keeping judgment within that sphere would spell for a hail of criticism marred with pessimism. I'm someone that you would call a realist, after all.

"You should hurry," Monika starts before sipping her coffee. I'll say, I haven't seen her in that white camisole dress in a while; it's a nice sight to start the day. "It's almost time, and you don't want to be running late for your job!"

"Awh…I thought you want me to stay?"

She settles her cup down to her right, a pair of emerald green eyes glares with comical vexation at my idiotic grin, cleverly concealed by the mask that protrudes from ear to ear. "You lout."

"Well, this 'lout'," I reply in earnest, reaching for the working bag before coming close to match her eye-to-eye. "Was found hypnotized by your captivating emerald eyes and sassy personality; and now you're stuck with him. Having regrets, Mo-chii?"

Monika smiles; a smile that is both captivating as it is cheeky. She slides her body forward, letting the dress fall just slightly, emphasizing her posture as she rests on her left arm to meet me in her gaze. My heart thumps erratically and my temperature rises as her perky pink lips part to speak her piece; calm yourself, buddy. This is the worst possible timing to be excited!

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

It's because of how much I'm willing to open myself to her, to Monika, the little devil who tamed the beast and shooed the rainclouds and storms that has been haunting me. The salary man was right; it's not because she couldn't, but it's because I didn't let her. I was too stubborn to see, too occupied by my own selfishness to believe that I alone knows best. Stress, depression, and anxieties are all part of a baggage that comes along as a part of this reality, a piece of a puzzle that creates a grand image of you as a person; I have one, but so does Monika. Sometimes, these negative emotions will slither its way into your mind—the worst thing you could do is to keep it to yourself; 'bottle it up, don't let it ooze', as how I usually repeat my mantra, believing that by doing so I may spare others from my misery. Which, when you put some thought into it, reminds me of a certain someone who believed the same. That was a mistake.

I ended up not just hurting myself, but also Monika.

She gave me quite an earful of chastising the next morning, sure, but it was worth it; like a cold shower at the break of dawn, or a long soak in a hot spring after hard labor—I needed it more than I thought I knew. But thanks to it, I have regained a part of my life back—and I couldn't thank her enough. If she ever disappear…well, best if I don't dwell on that thought now, do I?

"How's my tie?" I ask, shifting my weight to lean a little close for Monika to see. "Good enough?"

A contemplative 'hmm', "If I can so much as to touch you, I'd fix that tie juuust a bit higher."

"Alright," I do as she told. A little tight around the collar, but it should be fine. "Is that all?"

"Also, maybe I'll pull you in for a kiss…while I'm at it..."

Monika makes her counterattack with her cheeky, yet flirty irresistible smile that gets me every time. Her emerald eyes, ever perceptive, causes me to turn for a moment so as to conceal the blush that steadily warms me from ear to ear. The thumping in my chest grows faster as I struggle to maintain my composure. I clear my throat, placing my hand on the edge of our reality; a gentle warmth spreads across the palm of my hand.

"You know you're flirting with a teacher, right?"

"If you're a teacher," she replies; her flirtatious smile expands, doting how I've been lured into her trap. "Then you ought to teach me how to behave properly, sensei!"

...that was—where did she…?

…

"I surrender; you're merciless…"

"Only to you, Hxc4sf. Ahahaha~"

She smiles teasingly in return. Sometimes I wonder if I should even go easy on her…

"I'm off—don't forget to practice your kanji and grammar; your last homework is…passable, but not the best."

"I will," she replies kindly. Her emeralds shines; a gleam that reflects her feelings—innocent and very much in love. "If there is anything, do tell me. I will always wait for you. Take care."

And with that, I walk towards the door, waving one last time at her direction before taking my keys that is hung on a wall hook. A warm, fuzzy feeling brushes across my cheek as I replay our morning interaction once more; it reminds me of those dreamy 'married life'-scenes from some of the more romantic Visual Novels—which I perfectly have no problem with whatsoever, by the way. Now, if only I can come home to Monika in aprons asking 'that question', it would be perfect…

…

…I really should keep my imagination in check, sometimes. Now, on to business; today is…

Wednesday, October the thirteenth; two weeks before the school festival.

"…and with that said, since we still have some time in homeroom, class representative Mikawa," I motion to her, seated at the far right on the third row just by the window. "Will you be so kind to detail of what our class will be doing for the festival?"

Mikawa replies with a strong, confident 'yes' as I hand the podium to her while I take my position to the side, leaning against the blackboard. With her, a clear folder is neatly tucked between her arms, marked with a sticker with a kanji that is written in such that it can almost be mistaken to a calligraphy—'festival', it reads. Within it, a notebook, a mechanical pencil, and sheets of A4-size printouts stapled together—as expected of one of holder of the chrysanthemum badge.

"Okay, everyone!" as usual, Mikawa starts with a catch phrase that reminds me of a particular sassy girl I happen to live with. "So as we have come to agree upon on Monday, our class will be running an 'Emma'-themed café. Do we have confirmation on the maid and butler uniform?"

Araki raises her hand. "Yes! We can have the costumes done for everyone!"

As the students mingle in the discussion and the bell is still ten minutes to spare, I rest the back of my left hand on my forehead and breathe.

It's burning…

I should've listened to her. It doesn't seem too bad this morning, or even during the commute; I can't say the same during morning meetings and homeroom, however. There's a slight searing sensation down at my throat when I cough, along with the ever-increasing discomfort up in my nasal cavity that it doesn't take a genius—or even a doctor—to tell. I shift my weight to my right feet, just a bit more to find enough comfort against the rough surface of the walls while cursing under my breath at the impeccable timing—and my own poor judgment and stubbornness.

"Sensei…!"

Quickly my eyes shoots towards Mikawa who, judging by her pained expression, may have caught on to my condition.

"Are you…well?" she asks. The other students, following her guidance, immediately shifts their eyes to me. "You're looking a bit pale, sensei…"

I wave at them dismissively, chuckling. "It's nothing. Is everything in order, class representative?"

"Oh! Y-yes!"

"Good work, Mikawa." I shift my attention to the class, my homeroom. The bell chimes. "And to all of you, as well. I'll look forward to what everyone can achieve in the festival!"

A unison of 'yeses' and cheers echoes as I reach for the bag. Mikawa returns to her seat and smiles with confidence, preparing her spirit one last time to conclude the session.

"Stand up!"The class responds in uniform, a repetition that I've seen and experience for a lifetime. "Bow!"

With a swift, respectful bow that is quickly followed with a harmonious 'thank you', homeroom period ends and the day has just begun—both for me and for the students.

I made my way to another third-year classroom for first period English class—I don't envy the students of 3-3; they tend to have lowest homework turn-in and marks out of all third years, to be honest. The little tengus and onis are partying hard, unleashing their energy on their planned performance—a group dance as part of the stage show to the tune of 'WE ARE JAPANESE GOBLIN', from what I eavesdropped. Fitting…considering how rowdy the class can be; although, it's undeniable how the coming festival affects everyone with a more positive energy. A pity I have to interrupt their excitement.

"Alright, settle down! Class representative, if you please."

On the subject of festivals…they always are a part of us; always something captivating and…mystical, if I am to speak my mind. The food, the company, and the performances are one thing, but it's always how couples seem to be in full bloom during these occasions; not that I mind the spike in the springtime of youth, but it's how some would go out of their way to seclude themselves from the crowd and…let's just say 'act' upon their impulse. As one of the designated supervisors, guess who will pull the short straw?

I can't blame them; honestly, if I am at their age and have Monika around, it wouldn't surprise me at the slightest to have that urge loitering around—maybe even act on it.

"Take out your pencil, we're having a pop-quiz about yesterday's reading and—"

…

I pause, holding my breath as a screeching, ringing noise—like nails on chalkboard—invades and razes the cognitive sense that I have been struggling to maintain. I let the darkness to settle, pursing my lids shut as to let the pain subside; the endless hammering, drumming my brain relentlessly, corresponding to the sudden chill that slices my skin open and sears it with intense heat I've come to recognize by experience. I sigh, a flush of warm air caresses my dry, cracked lips. When I come to, all eyes are upon me; faces full of concern and confusion.

"Sensei…? Hello…?"

I cough, "Alright, FIRST QUESTION…!"

As fast as it all began, the faces of concern and confusion vanishes against overwhelming panic and surprise.

The class progresses, along with the flow of time; like a leaf that floats gently on a stream. Through it all, the searing heat and the hammering continues its torment, occasionally subsiding at certain intervals and picking up where it left off with swift retribution and vigor; through it all, I have to endure. I am a teacher, a shepherd responsible in ensuring my flock survive through the never-ending storm and dangers the world will throw at them. It is my responsibility, my duty to see to it that none would be let astray—even if it may cost me my own well-being. I can't see myself taking a break—especially not in the crucial time when these third-years would need us the most; the time when they will be asked upon what they wish to do in the future.

I'm sure Monika would understand my decision. It's not the wisest move (just like most of my other decisions), but it's the most 'noble'.

When the bell chime, the students uniformly repeats the pattern the same way how it began. I take my bow and leaves for the next classroom and the next lesson; the steps I take, its weight, increases incrementally on my shoulders and shackles my ankles in chained balls of steel. My visions blurs for a fraction of a second, causing me to waddle to my destination before it all vanishes mysteriously like a shadow against a backdrop of light; its unceremonious return, however, is as discomforting as it is a torture. The second period starts, the cycle repeats.

I should've stayed home.

"I really think you should visit the health center, sensei." Mikawa said with her arms crossed. "It's best not to push yourself in that state."

Quietly I dismiss her concern with a callous chuckle and a smile from behind the mask, "If I do, who's going to supervise the club?"

"You can always count on me or Aki-chan for that, sensei!"

That's nice of her, though I'm reluctant to do so not because I do not have faith in her—believe me, I do—but the implications that may came out of it; last thing I need is another reprimand or putting my homeroom's class representative in the line of fire. I reach forward and tap her shoulder twice, smiling behind the mask that protrudes from ear to ear. She flinches for a split of a second, but retains her overall composure and her expression that is both a mix of sadness and concern. I may be unwell, but at least allow me to fulfill my responsibility—at least until the end of today's faculty meeting.

"I'll be alright," I reach for the keys and slide the object to the hole, turning it anti-clockwise and unlocking the room for the Literature Club. "This is part of my responsibility, after all. Besides, I don't want you or any of the others to get in trouble."

I move to the side and gestures her to the room. "Go ahead."

"Thank you, sensei," she said with a bow. "To have you care so much for us…"

"Don't mention it," I wave dismissively. "If any, you deserve your own recognition; even in the midst of preparation, you're still the first to come to the club."

I pause, "Judging by that alone, I take everything our homeroom planned for is well in order?"

"Yes, it is. They've taken my measurements, so we're down to waiting for the costume."

"I see. That's good to hear," I pause. "Anyway, what are we standing out here for? Please, go ahead."

"A-ah! Y-yes, of course. Excuse my rudeness, sensei."

The classroom, designated as the Literature Club's home base, is as serene as it is welcoming; peaceful due to the absence of its members. The rays of the sun that bleeds through the window provides a comforting warmth on the desks that is graced by its reach as Mikawa makes her way to her usual seat while I, as the supervisor, takes the one on her opposite end of the room. Immediately my body slumps on the chair, exhausted from the constant struggle against a sickness that I can barely contain; if it weren't because of the sandwich and coffee I had for lunch, I would most likely be in the infirmary—I should be, mind you, but I chose not to. Who would be supervising the club then?

I glance at Mikawa who is sitting at the other end of the room, focused on juggling between paperwork—for the class and the literature club's—and her smartphone. One minute, her hand would be on top of the paper with her pen, dancing in rhythm to the sound of the scribbles and at the next, she darts to the glowing device to her left and quickly taps what I can only assume to be messages before focusing back to the paper. Occasionally, she would comb and tuck her bangs behind her ears or twirls them around in moments of uncertainty. Mikawa's…dedicated that way, always focused on her tasks and the well-being of others—a trait I've noticed for a very long time; as expected of the recipient of the chrysanthemum badge, always diligent. I wonder…how would Monika fare against her? Can she handle the pressure and weight her position as club leader translates to? DDLC may just be a game, a world where she was confined to, but that doesn't mean she can escape the responsibility of her position now, does she? I guess it is something for her to know and for me to find out…

"Sensei," she calls out, pulling me away from the day dream. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but…is there a pen I can borrow?"

"You don't have any spare?"

Mikawa shakes her head, "Sadly, no…I'm sorry! It's very careless of me."

I shrug and reach for a black pen tucked in my vest. Mikawa hurriedly strides. "It can't be helped; here you are, don't forget to return it later."

"I will. Thank you, sensei!"

Even honor students make mistakes sometimes.

I slump back to position once again, quietly observing the changing colors from its warm glow to a gentle shade of orange, listening to the echoes of the sports-oriented clubs from the outside—the cheer, the drive, and the spirit that drowns the silence in a distinctive melody; the music of unfiltered youth. It has been about ten minutes since the club is supposed to start, yet aside from Mikawa no one else has yet to rear its head. The aching pain that resonates across my joints throughout the nape slowly bear its weights down on my head; I slowly descend into the dark, leaving my consciousness behind.

A series of mumbling, chatters—voices that I can't comprehend.

When I come to, I am greeted by the sight of Aki and Mikawa, gleefully conversing to one another; the former being more apologetic to the latter, likely because of her tardiness. Their conversation sharply falls into sudden whispers upon noticing my return to reality, starting with Aki.

"Ara, sensei," Aki greets. "Good morning!"

Mikawa nudges at her with her elbow, "I'm sorry, sensei! You seemed tired, so we decided not to disturb your rest."

"How long was I out?"

"Around fifteen minutes."

"I see…"

Mikawa looks on with concern as Aki takes her seat, only returning to her responsibility when the vice-president draws the detail of the plan concerning the literature club for the festival—that is, the design of the banner that will be hanged during the day. I massage the point between my eyes, adjusting from the grogginess and easing back to the land of the living; the throbbing pain that peckers at my brain and the sore in my throat is definitely not making it any easier. As the two discusses of what ifs, what was, and what will, the other members—Yuuki, Satsuki, and Obase—makes their entrance.

"Sorry we're late, buccho~!" Satsuki cries in exasperation, "Our class project took more time than what we thought and-and…uh…Yuuki can explain!"

"W-what? Why me!?"

"Just say something and back me up!"

Yuuki sighs, "There was a little trouble on our class' plan for a haunted house. Satsuki complained that the layout is crap and—"

"Why is it my fault!?" she quickly interferes, "It really is crap—and you're supposed to back me up!"

"Not my problem," he shrugs. "I can't pull you out of the fire all the time, you dolt."

"But I'm your childhood friend…! How could you…!"

"That makes it even more so!"

Another episode between the two erupts for the club to see. Mikawa giggles softly at the sight, resting her pen on her lips reflectively before turning to Obase who—just like the previous two—came in at around the exact same time. "How about you, Obase-kun?"

Obase sheepishly takes a step back and looks away; guilt is written all over his expression. "I…overslept at last period."

…

The club falls into complete silence—and so do I.

"Well," Yuuki interrupts, "Your name checks out, doesn't it Shinjiro?"

"Shut up…"

The ball drops as fast as it was tossed into the air, sending the others into a spiral of laughter upon realizing what Yuuki meant—Obase's given name, Shinjiro, uses the kanji for 'sleeping' instead of the usual 'new'. I shouldn't be surprised either; amongst all the second year students, Obase is infamous amongst the faculties as that one student who tends to doze off in the middle of class, no matter how hot or cold the weather gets. The jolly atmosphere settles down as Mikawa gestures all the members into the club with the usual 'okay, everyone!'—like a shepherd to her flock. Before long, the cheer and the spirit of youth that was once so prevalent is drowned by the voices and energy of equal strength, dedicated on churning the best the literature club can offer here, in this club room.

"I can't wait until the festival…!" Satsuki starts, "It's always fun to see everyone's effort, right Yuuki?"

"All those couples though…damn riajuu, I hope they all explode!"

"It's not that bad!" she quickly replies, "You can always invite your childhood friend out!"

Yuuki sneers—sarcastically, I assume. "I rather hang out with sensei. Right, sensei?"

Like a comedic routine in its own, Yuuki flashes his thumb at my general direction to which I respond in kind with my own. Though I do used to share his sentiment, I can't say the same today with Monika in mind—sorry, Yuuki, but this thumbs up is more of a friendly gesture than a commitment.

"See, even sensei agrees!"

"That's not nice! Yuuki's an idiot!"

"You will visit your own homeroom, right sensei?" Mikawa cuts, leaving both Yuuki and Satsuki to their own devices as per-usual. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss our Victorian England-themed café!"

I nod, "I'll likely be on patrol, but I'll try not to; it's your last, after all."

"That's true...but that's why," she pumps her fist. "That's why we ought to make it memorable! Including our literature club, right Aki-chan?"

Aki smiles weakly, sighing. I guess not everyone is as excited about it—barring Obase, of course. "I wish I can say the same, Aya-chan…"

She sighs in exasperation, setting her marker down and nodding meekly at her closest confidant. Mikawa responds with a nod, gesturing in return with a 'go ahead' on the matter she wishes to speak. "I'm not one to gossip, but…"

"Our homeroom, class 3-4, is supposed to be doing a stage performance of 'Alice in Wonderland', right?"

Ah…class 3-4 is Kitamura-senpai's homeroom. Bright students, each and every one of them—can't say the same about their homeroom teacher though; ironic how his class representative is part of a club I supervise.

"Thing is," she continues. "Our 'Alice' is always late for practice—sometimes even missing!"

Aki squeezes the marker, boiling to toss the inanimate object to the table with rage. "What's worse is that when she does show up, she's either tired or came loaded with 'reasons'! We can't get anything done because of it! We were so pumped up about it since this will be our last, yet she just have to ruin everything!"

"There's even rumors going around that she was dating Kitamura-sensei—that's why she's always late and—"

…!

Aki pauses, quickly catching on to my intrigue; one that I may invest upon. "A-aah…sorry, sensei! Aya-chan and I were discussing about this earlier, but we conclude it was just baseless claims; don't think badly about Kitamura-sensei, ok? It's just a rumor!"

It's difficult not to be reminded of that time we accidentally encounter one another in Shinjuku. I knew there was something…odd about his 'partner'—familiar, even—yet I couldn't point a finger or the reason why that is to be. If the rumors are to go by, then I may…

…

No, I shouldn't. I promised her not to fight fire with fire, to be the better man in the situation—that's why she handed me the picture in the first place, because she trusts my judgment to honor it and make the right call. Because she believes that, if I am to keep my promise, I would delete the incriminating evidence by my own. The world may never give another chance like this, and yet…

…yet I can't break this promise; I shouldn't. But…

"I think we ran out of color markers…" Mikawa interrupts. She bites down on her pen akin to a p*cky snack, pondering. "…I'll go and get a new box. Sensei, will it be alright if I ask you to accompany me to the storage? I'm not sure where it is—"

She pauses. "…and I hate to send Aki out again in a fruitless expedition…Ahaha~"

"Hey! Aya-chan, you meanie!"

Mikawa presses her hands together and mutters a 'please' under her breath. I shrug and nod at her request, pushing myself to work against the sickness and the incessant pain to take the responsibility; after all, this is a part of our contract as a teacher. With a stretch, I ease the muscles and the headache into momentary suspension (or at least until I find another spot to lean) before she leads me to the hallway, towards the storage room—the one in new building.

"Mikawa, this building also has a storage room."

"I know," she replies in a solemn, contemplative voice. "I'm sorry, sensei. But what I said in the club rom was just a ruse; I have something I want to discuss about—and I don't think it's appropriate with others around."

…

Well, this oddly a first. I know how smart she can be, but I never thought she'd think this far.

"Is this…serious?"

She nods and mumbles, "Yes, it is."

"Would you like to have a coffee to go along with it?" I reply; it would be a disservice not to. "It may ease you a little, I believe."

"Thank you, sensei…you're always so kind to everyone."

"Don't mention it."

Our little excursion takes us to one of the stairwell where three sets of vending machine nestles itself at the corner of the wall, just under the shade. The little ashes that litters the corners tells me a story; a lore about this particular location and its history with delinquents—thankfully, none seem to wander the area. Out of spite, I bought two cans of the usual brand—one for myself, another for my student. She accepts the offer, gently and politely taking them into her slender hands, flicking the tab open to sip on the dark liquid within. I pull my mask down, revealing my parched lips to consume the treat; it still tastes wonderfully bland, alongside a spike of pain down my throat.

"So," I start. "What is it you wish to discuss about?"

She pauses, twirling her hair in uncertainty before she returns with a quizzical gaze. "Sensei, what do you think about student-teacher relationship?"

…

…wait, what…!?

"Uh…can you repeat that, Mikawa…?"

"Oh! Uh…i-it's not what it sounds like at all!" she stammers, awkwardly giggling at her own expense. I sigh with relief. "It's about…a friend."

Mikawa's expression reflects a thought, one that struggles against her own principles—a secret, perhaps, that is never meant to be revealed. She clutches the can, desperate in finding the courage to proceed.

"Are you sure you want me to know?" I ask. "If…this is something between you and your friends, then—"

"N-no! I do feel that you need to know!" Quickly, she pauses upon realizing her neglect of manners and formality. "I-I mean, I believe it's something you should know, sensei."

She takes a deep breath, and heaves. "The 'friend' Aki and I were discussing earlier…"

Mikawa pauses.

"Aki is friends with her; we met once or twice," she continues. "She's a very…quiet individual, always keeping things to herself. But…"

Mikawa purses her lips, desperate to continue against her own conscious that abstains her to do so. "Recently, she's been…happier."

"Isn't that a good thing?" I chime in. She shakes her head, denying it.

"If it is, she won't stop talking about it—especially to Aki. But this…this is different."

"She's been looking tired, often missing school; I know it's not my business to nose around, but when Aki questions her,she always said that—"

'Everything is ok.'

…

A sense of familiarity washes over me, a symptom I've come to associate with a certain suicidal character and my old self, to a degree. What I'm listening to is a plea for help, a cry for someone in a position of authority and experience to guide a lost lamb…or so I thought.

"What's worse, is that…those rumors that's been going around," Mikawa bites her lower lip, gathering what courage she has to speak—and I realize I may have stumbled on salvation. "They were true."

"Sensei, she is dating Kitamura-sensei."

…

And everything just clicks.

In that instance, at that moment, all the details pertaining Kitamura-senpai and our unfortunate rendezvous comes to blow. The girl, its sense of familiarity that keeps tugging…now I know. It's the opportunity of a life time, a chance that comes once in a blue moon. Solemnly I lean against the wall, doing the best as I can to recall the now-vivid image of that night—the display of promiscuity—and the bastard who started it all.

And I'm going to tell everyone.

"Mikawa, I know you're a bright student," I said, cautiously treading on thin ice. "But if I may, what makes you believe that is true?"

"Aki was worried," she sighs, taking a sip from her can to ease the growing pressure. "So I…I took the liberty to follow her."

"You stalked her?"

She nods. "Yes. It's…not a good manner to have for someone like me, I know. But Aki was worried! I can't just leave it alone…can I?"

"That's another matter to discuss," I sigh. This is definitely above my paygrade—especially after the cut. "What's her name?"

"Will you promise me not to tell it to anyone, sensei?"

"I promise."

She takes a deep breath, sighs, and walks towards the recycling bin to chuck the pristine can into the abyss. "Ariake-san."

"It's Ariake Shiho-san. I saw her went into a love hotel with Kitamura-sensei more than once to know."

Thus, the full picture comes into view…

"Will you help her, sensei?"

…and the demon within me smiles with glee. "Yes, I will do what I can."

Quietly we conclude our conversation and affirm my decision—not just for her, but for my own; a way to remove one less obstacle, a thorn that constantly hounds me—this is my retribution for the pain you brought upon Monika and I. The question is, when can I put this weapon into its effect? Pulling my mask back into position, I gesture to Mikawa who—eagerly—is heading towards the club room.

"Mikawa, you might want to 'get the new markers'—else your flock will be suspicious."

"O-OH! That's right…!"

When we return to the clubroom, the questions regarding the time it took for us to find a box of markers sparks as fast as it disappear into obscurity once Mikawa gave her reasoning and I backing her claim—'we tracked the box to another class', she said. I slip back to my seat and reassume my job as the supervisor—though admittedly, the trip alone really did strain my riddled physique more than it already has; I'm just glad I can slink back down to rest. I can't help but smile, however—a sinister one to some, maybe—as I remember the conversation under the stairwell.

That now I have the tool to put that scum in his place.

Both my mental and physical state is in shambles at the end of Wednesday's mandatory faculty meeting—even more so when it took nearly half the damn meeting to discuss about material distribution for the festival. Damn bureaucracy…always slow to act and decide, but there's really no helping—or changing—it either. Kitamura-senpai was, unsurprisingly, absent in the meeting and noted how I will be responsible in informing the on-goings of the school while he's away to attend 'important matters' and 'public relations'. The school board always is slow on the response, with all decisions falling into the hands of the principal; unless you have significant influence on the matter to bypass the entire screening. Nonetheless, it's quite a relief to know that the day ended as per-usual—just for a little bit more.

There is one other thing I forgot to mention; it doesn't relate with any of my students or senpai for that matter, but it does correlate with today's date. On my way home, right after getting off on my station, I made a stop at the convenience store and withdraw some of my savings to treat myself with 4 packets of mitarashi dango and a bottle of sake—just for this occasion. I have a special event in mind, particularly during this time of the month—and I can't wait to share the experience with that sassy brat who calls residence in my laptop. Back when I was but a snotty little bastard, my old man used to do this together with the family in my old home at Kawasaki in Kanagawa prefecture; always at this date and not a single leap, year by year.

"Thank you very much, please come again!"

I leave the convenience store with a single bag in my hand and a hopeful, optimistic smile. I feel like collapsing right about now, but this will be a moment to remember; I can't miss it.

Walking up the incline that leads to my home, the gentle glow that bleeds from my room draws me closer to the promised ending that awaits me at each day. I look up; the spherical alloy-silver disk that hangs in the expanse of the night sky gleams brilliantly like a pearl amongst the stars, beguiling me in its beauty. My heart skips a beat, amok by imagination of a time that is to be. I reach for my keys and slide it into the hole, turning it anti-clockwise and unlocking the slice of heaven that continues to welcome me to its embrace with its well-lit corridor and room.

"I'm home!"

"Welcome home…!" echoes a feminine voice from within. Quickly, I remove my footwear and rush to the source of the voice; a young girl in her white camisole dress, cheerfully resting her head on her bridged hands with a smile that rivals the brightest sun. "How was your day?"

"I bought stuff," I reply and raise the bag to her vision, grinning behind the mask. "You're going to love this."

Walking over to the balcony, I open the curtain and slides the balcony door open to the greatest show on this side of our reality. Lighting a mosquito coil I reach from a nearby drawer, I rest the object into its container and sets it close to the edge that divides the room with balcony—a preparation for the little 'festival'—and look over my shoulder towards the girl beyond the screen who looks on, bewildered yet curious. I close my distance to her; her pair of emeralds speaks of a thousand unanswered questions, inquisitive towards the reasoning behind my actions.

"7hHDs, aren't you…unwell…?" Monika asks with concern. "I think it's best if you rest early today and—"

"Hush, girl." I interrupt, placing a finger on the screen where her lips is supposed to be. "It's that time of the year, and everything is perfect—it will be a shame to miss!"

The apparatus, lying on the side of the desk, is quickly dusted off and switched after I sling it over my shoulder; the object is still as heavy as last time. The weight, my physical condition, and the throbbing pain in my head may complicate lugging the apparatus for an extended time, but we're not going far in the first place. I turn to Monika, motioning her to 'switch' to the shoulder camera.

"What are you planning…?" She asks, concealing her smile behind her slender fingers. "You're not planning something…crazy, are you?"

I warmly smile in return, reaching for her laptop right after the shoulder camera starts to move. "You'll love it, trust me."

Carefully I balance my grip on the side…

…and off the laptop goes from the table to the cradle of my hand, along with the cables that powers Monika's little abode. She lets a series of giggling and laughter, a music in its own expression that eases this lonesome heart. Does this constitute as sweeping her off of her feet like princesses of the west, I wonder? Only her expression can tell—one that I couldn't see at this time, barring assumptions from how frantic my shoulder camera moves. Carefully I rest the laptop at the edge of our room and fetch the mitarashi dango, sake, a plate, and a sakazuki—a flat, saucer-like cup use to serve sake; a gift I received on one of the mandatory company parties' raffle. I loosen my tie and cross my legs, sitting beside her—the apparatus, still on my back.

"It's the thirteenth of October today, so I figured…" I lay the plate between us and reach for the plastic bag, taking out the mitarashi dango and arrange them in a pyramid. "Since the moon is beautiful tonight, we'll have a tsukimi."

"A tsuki…me?" She said in inquiry, "Is that a love confession, H4gcD?"

"That's very punny, Mo-chii…" I chuckle, "Tsukimi, not 'suki-me'. In other words, moon viewing."

It's the time where we honor the full autumn moon as a variation of the mid-autumn festival. Its history dated as far back as the Heian period, where aristocrats of the time would recite poems under the full moon, celebrating the harvest season with dishes that reflect the season in order to pray for an abundant harvest. Though the latter practice has died away at the turn of the century for most common folk, the celebration and its customs are passed down through generations and is now integrated as part of my culture. I close my eyes and let the night air caresses me along with the distant echo of a passing train, appreciating the little wonders of the season. Then I look up, towards the crystalline sphere that hangs in the expanse, illuminating us in a bluish-silver hue and its bewitching reflection.

"My old man loves moon viewing, and since it has an association with poems and festivals…I thought it would be a great idea to let you experience it."

I reach for the bottle of sake, placing it squarely before me on the balcony. Her emerald eyes follows the cylindrical container closely, both from the shoulder camera and the laptop that is seated beside me. "Just a little trivia about my family. What about you?"

"Hdx435, my family is…"

Immediately, I am frozen in the spot. Right, that's insensitive of me—her entire reality was fiction to begin with. "Aah…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that…"

She shakes her head, "It's alright. At least now I get to know a bit more about your family! Ahaha~!"

Monika's smile strikes me like a chord, playing a soft melody that eases my wandering soul, challenging the glimmer of the princess of the night. My cheek reddens, its warmth reminds me of the reason why I breathe to this day. The alcohol remains untouched. I wonder how far I can take the conversation, to push it further as we appreciate the brilliant glitter of the pearl of the night sky. 'Poems', I thought, 'I could recite one—it is a part of moon viewing, after all.'

"It really is beautiful tonight," she said, catching me off guard. "You're actually quite the romantic, Dx48rN."

Monika softly paints a ray of sunshine all over her expression, "I'm glad it was you who I fell in love with."

…

…she's really relentless when it comes to the offensive, isn't she?

"Well," I muster with a mix of glee and coy, "I don't know what to say, but…"

"Thank you, for sticking with someone like me."

The corners of her mouth slid upwards—a humble and modest one, and leans towards my general direction. Whether it is the weight of the apparatus or my fatigue taking over, the pressure that pushes my shoulders translates to a soft, comforting embrace; just squeezing my hand alone, it's as if her fingers has slid its way into my grasp. I understand full-well that, maybe, these are all just fragments of my imagination, a dream that may never be realized—yet even so, I embrace it fully and let the moon be our judge.

"I did say that poems are associated with moon viewing, right?"

"Mmhm~."

"Do you have something in mind?"

"It's all so sudden," she replies. "I don't think I can come up with anything right now. Do you have one, XdH2S5?"

I smirk, the corners of my eyes crinkles. "I do, in fact—but let me have some sake first."

A waft of alcohol tickles my scent the moment I twist the bottle open. The liquid, clear as crystal, runs through the mouth of the bottle and fills the sakazuki, reflecting the melancholic image of the moon on its cylindrical cup. I pause, admiring the sight and the dizzying smell of the alcoholic treat that rests in my hand, the simple artistic beauty that nature provides for us—and then realization hits me a second too late. Monika's nineteen years of age; I am drinking with a minor.

"Ah…you don't mind if I drink, right…?" I ask, turning to my right. "I mean…its alcohol and all…"

"I don't mind," she reply. "Only if you share it, though!"

"You're a minor."

"—under your supervision! Ahaha~."

I sigh. "…Just this once, alright?"

She cheers with excitement, motioning to have the sake and the sakazuki for her to see. Moving the bottle and the cup to within her cone of vision, Monika immediately closes her eyes and concentrate, generating little glitches and pixels that flashes before her, culminating into a shape I recognize—a sakazuki, emerald in color and engraved in a golden pattern of a crane; a contrast to my red. The clear liquid materializes after—a perfect replication of the drink that captures the moon—and soon, the object in question rests on the palm of her hand.

"It's…beautiful…" she said in awe. The emerald sakazuki, with its liquid, reflects her image. "It's like looking at a mirror…"

I chuckle, "Customarily, the woman is supposed to pour the sake for the man. But since that's not possible considering our circumstances, we'll let that slide."

"One day," she replies with a soft expression. "One day, I would love to do that for you."

I smile, a hopeful and accepting one. "Then I'll look forward to that special day."

"And so!" I continue. "Let's drink to that. Kanpai?"

"Kanpai!"

We raise our cups and let the warm liquid drench our throats and flow into a stream. The buzz lightly stings my head—a sensation I grew to appreciate along with the alcoholic drink I shared, then with my father and now, with my lover. I glance at her, who squirms in surprise, pressing both her hands on her mouth—as if praying—before raising the curtains to reveal her emerald green eyes; a drop of tear rests at its corners.

"It's bitter…!"

"That's alcohol for you; it'll grow on you, trust me."

Raising the bottle to her vision, I paint a devilish smile on my feature. "Another?"

A reddish tint blooms on her face that stretches from ear to ear. She gazes, ever observant, meeting our eyes in the exchange causing us to flinch—not out of discomfort, mind you. Monika holds her cup like a flower that gently rests on her palms, catching a glimpse at me before sheepishly, she nods.

And so, I pour another cup for myself.

"…About that poem," she inquires, resting her half-full sakazuki before her. "I would love to hear it now."

"Really?" I return, chuckling.

"Very much so."

"Then," I pause, admiring the reflection of the moon in my cup, then to the distant satellite above. I close my eyes and went into a deep thought; fitting, I suppose—particularly for this occasion.

"Setsugetsuka no toki mottomo kimi wo omou." 'I remember you when the snow, the moon, and the flowers are especially beautiful', a poem by Bai Juyi and one of my personal favorite, both for its length and the weight of its words; one that I've been looking forward to mutter to her—at least, a reason to.

"What do you think?"

"…you flirt…" she quickly replies in hushed tone. "That can't be your own!"

"It isn't," I honestly reply. "But I find it fitting for this moment, don't you?"

She sighs and takes another sip.

"I will be kissing you right now if nothing stands between us—with or without the influence of alcohol."

"But yes," she continues. "It's lovely."

YES!

Mentally, I pump a fist to the air for the small victory I've earned and gleefully chug a serving of sake from my sakazuki. The sake, along with the sweet and savory mitarashi dango (though not the authentic kind of dango), compliments the picturesque scenery as the night grows longer and the alcohol slowly taking its effect. Before long, I start to hum a tune that reminisce the days where I used to spend my time in solitary, basking under the glow of the autumn moon—a memory before she become a part of my life. Now that I give some thought about it…we could use some music, at least.

"Mo-chii," I start. "You said before you wanted a rapper in your literature club, right?"

Monika's emerald eyes gazes at me, dazed. Tinges of red outlines her cheeks from ear to ear. "You can rap?"

"No, that's impossible," I chuckle. "But, I know a song that you may like and—"

"Is this one of those 'v#cal0id' that Natsuki—and you—listen to?"

I wave dismissively; close, but no cigar. "Not this time; search in my music folder 'Itoshiki Yomichi', then play that."

I left her at her own devices as she rummages through my files, in search for the specific song I requested. The moonlight that reflects on the half-empty sake bottle acts like a meter, numbing the aching pain that courses through my body and my head; along with the company of Monika, all is right with the world. After a minute or so, she returns with the song in question.

"What is it about?" she asks, inquisitive as usual.

"The short answer? Drowning your sorrows together with a company."

"And the long answer?"

I take a sip. The taste of the sake becomes sweeter at each consumption. "Two strangers spending their time together in celebration, too shy to voice their true thoughts to one another and just simply,"

The clear liquid flows like a stream, down to my sakazuki for another serving. "…appreciating the company; it's bittersweet, in a way."

"I hope you didn't pick this because you're trying to imply our relationship…?" she asks. Again, I wave dismissively; the alcohol really is starting to take its effect on both of us.

"We're way past that phase, Mo-chii. Oh, just go play the song!"

When the music starts its slow, melodic introduction, I rest my sakazuki down and privately observe Monika, pouring another serving for myself to cover my intention. The tune picks up, then the pace, and when the rap takes its stage, Monika's eyes lights up in excitement and I—

I raise my cup for a toast.

"This is amazing…!"

"Told you," I reply with a chuckle. "Now, just like the song, let us enjoy this moment together over a few cups of sake and the company of one another,"

Grinning playfully, I raise my cup for her to see—one more 'kanpai' for tonight and many more to come. "Shall we, Mo-chii?"

"If it's you, always."

We drink to our hearts, listening to the tune and savoring every second spent. The autumn moon illuminates our little adventure as the only witness, captured within the small cup I hold as the bottle grows lighter and eventually, dries. We start giggling and chuckling gleefully the moment our eyes meet, noticing the flushed cheeks and reddened ears in a world of light intoxication and merriment. When the bottle dries and the dango are nothing but skewers, Monika is already fast asleep in her reality—a satisfied streak paints over her serene expression. Thus, we ended our little festival with me carrying her back to the desk and cleaning what mess was left.

The next morning, I came down with a headache and a fever of thirty nine-point-eight degrees Celsius and had to be confined in bed.

My verdict?

…

Totally worth it.

Author's Note

iMegumeru here! Just to help some of the readers who may not be familiar, here are examples of translation notes:



#

Monika's pet-name - Oogame came up with the idea of calling her 'Mo-chii', taken from Monika's 'Mo' and adding a diminutive suffix 'chii', which originates from 'chan', albeit a more affectionate variant. 'Mochi' is also a name of a savory snack; rice cakes, basically.



Obase's name - Yuuki mentioned about how 'sleeping' is a part of Obase's name, which is written as 'Shinjiro'. When written in kanji, his name consists of two characters 「寝」and「城」. The former is the kanji of 寝る, or 'to sleep' while the latter, a castle/fortress.

Sakazuki - A round, flat sake dish.



Tsukimi - Moon viewing. Monika made a pun regarding this, mashing 'Suki'/好き or 'like' with the English 'Me'. Thus, becoming 「好きME」 as translation.

#

I read the reviews and notice some of your suggestions for the books! Thank you! I'll be sure to take a look at the suggested reading material and see if I can expand further from my own limit!

If there are any further question, feel free to ask! I'll be happy to answer them-so long as it's not too plot-specific

Once again, thank you very much!

- iMegumeru