"You and your sister finally stopped feuding?"
Yukinoshita didn't even look up. "It's bad enough you're slacking off, Miss Hiratsuka. Can you not interrupt my work on top of it?"
Shizuka Hiratsuka was practically melted into her chair, legs sprawled unprofessionally across her desk.
Seeing her like that, even Yukinoshita couldn't help but comment inwardly on the scene: a woman who'd truly embraced the art of "doing the bare minimum."
"Man… slacking off feels amazing," Hiratsuka murmured with the air of someone who had just uncovered a life philosophy.
Being young, capable, and remarkably efficient, Hiratsuka had gradually become one of the most relied-upon teachers at Sōbu High in recent years. The administration kept piling responsibilities on her shoulders.
Not only did she teach Modern Japanese for Class 2-F and serve as their homeroom teacher, but she also oversaw the planning and review of all second-year events, and even handled much of the school's external affairs and public relations.
Which was why, lately, she looked like she'd been completely hollowed out by her workload.
Earlier that day, Yukinoshita had stopped by during the lunch break to hand in her class's athletic festival event plans only to find her once-sharp teacher slumped over like a salted fish.
And then she'd been roped into helping mark the first-years' wildlife observation reports.
Yukinoshita had only agreed with a stern, flat expression and a warning: "Don't expect this to happen again."
After scanning through one of the report sheets, she did her best to mimic Hiratsuka's messy handwriting as she jotted down a comment. Then, voice cold and matter-of-fact, she said:
"Instead of wasting time here discovering how fun it is to slack off, maybe you should tell the school you're overworked. No one can keep up with this pace forever."
Hiratsuka slammed the desk with a grimace. "Of course I've said something! But those crusty old men just keep telling me young people should work harder!"
"Why didn't you just tell them, 'If old men were useful, they wouldn't need to be buried yet'?"
Hiratsuka froze for a second then leaned back in her chair and burst out laughing.
"You really are different from your sister. That sharp tongue of yours… you could single-handedly supply Japan's entire razor blade industry!"
In the short time they'd been talking, Hiratsuka had already brought up Yukinoshita's older sister twice.
Though Yukinoshita wasn't fond of discussing her sister, especially with others, she didn't enjoy hearing people either praise or criticize her.
Her relationship with Haruno Yukinoshita was tangled and uncomfortable. Praise made her feel overshadowed. Criticism, strangely enough, made her feel even worse.
She lowered her head, keeping her gaze fixed on the stack of reports in front of her. Her voice was calm, detached, like none of it mattered.
"Mm."
But Hiratsuka, still in her limp, slouched pose, had already wandered off into a reflective monologue.
"Haruno was probably the most brilliant student I've ever taught…" She glanced at Yukinoshita and smiled. "Though her brilliance is very different from yours."
Of course it was. Yukinoshita already knew that.
"Whatever she did, Haruno always made it look effortless. Student council, clubs, academics even her relationships with classmates and teachers. Most people would never believe anyone could excel at all of it, flawlessly."
Then Hiratsuka sighed. "But maybe she was too brilliant…"
Brilliant to the point of arrogance. So arrogant she believed she could control everything. So proud she looked down on everyone, as if no one could ever be her equal.
When she wore her mask, she was the most beloved person in the world. When she took it off, she was cold, manipulative, unbearable someone you couldn't stand to be around.
Acquainted with the whole world, and yet not a single true friend.
That was Haruno Yukinoshita, wasn't it?
Hiratsuka hadn't said those words aloud, but Yukinoshita knew exactly what she'd left unsaid.
She lowered her eyes, offering no reply.
Haruno lived a life that was… exhausting.
Hiratsuka seemed to remember something just then and chuckled.
"The most emotionally constipated person in the world… and yet, the one who cares about you more than anyone else."
"Sensei, that's disgusting."
Yawning, Hiratsuka just laughed. "You two are exactly alike when it comes to being impossible."
It must've been around two years ago.
Back then, Haruno was in her final year of high school. When she heard her little sister would be returning from abroad to attend high school in Japan, she made a point of collecting a stack of promotional pamphlets from Sōbu High trying to lure her sister into choosing her own alma mater.
Apparently, it worked.
After that, Haruno returned to school with a peculiar kind of excitement, digging up all the honors and accolades she'd earned at Sōbu awards she'd previously shown no interest in and plastering them all over the school's honor board and trophy display.
"Just so Yukino can see how amazing her sister was how hard it'll be to ever surpass her!"
That rare moment of childish pride was something Hiratsuka had never seen from Haruno before.
All those layers of masks she wore on her face, on her body, all that polish and poise gone. In that moment, the real Haruno had shone through: vivid, radiant, joyful.
So even when the two sisters later had a falling-out, Hiratsuka never doubted they'd eventually make up.
After all, both girls were world-class champions at being emotionally repressed and equally world-class at how much they cared for each other.
When they finished grading the reports, the so-called "dead fish" teacher sprang back to life.
"Victory!! Yukinoshita, you're amazing! I seriously love you!"
"…Got it."
Yukinoshita's eyes flicked toward Hiratsuka's collar. With a natural motion, she reached out and straightened the rumpled part of her blouse that had slipped inside her blazer.
Then, with a small bow, she said, "I'll be going now, Sensei."
Once Yukinoshita stepped out and shut the door, Hiratsuka immediately collapsed backward into her chair again, pounding her own chest in frustration.
"Dammit… I've really been single too long. Way too long. Way too long!"
Just for a moment there, she'd felt like a housewife watching her husband leave for work.
What the hell is wrong with me?!
When Yukinoshita returned to her classroom, the first thing she noticed was Yui who, instead of gossiping with the others as usual, was bent over her desk diligently solving problems.
Yukinoshita felt a quiet flicker of pride.
She was the type to act cold and distant, but if someone genuinely needed help and was willing to work for it, she would always reach out a hand.
What she had no patience for were people who whined for help but made no effort on their own.
Luckily, Yui wasn't one of those people.
As she turned away and sat down, Yukinoshita suddenly noticed Miura beside her, giving her a rather pitiful, wounded look.
Miura mumbled in a small voice, "I already rejected that guy…"
She had rejected that underclassman, and she'd been completely clear about it hadn't even left the tiniest room for misunderstanding.
So why was Yukinoshita still getting so close to Yui?
Jeez… Yukinoshita was really the jealous type, wasn't she?
Miura sighed.
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