Well, it was very stupid of me, but I really did expect her to dodge the attack.
It doesn't excuse me from the stupid action, though.
As for the woman, Takamura-sensei's face doesn't change very much.
…That said, with vanilla cake plastered all over her face, it's quite difficult to make out what she's thinking at the current moment.
Without hesitation, I grab a wash cloth from the dining table and rush my hand towards her face sporadically.
As if my vocal chords had minds of their own, the words slip out of my throat like an unclogged faucet.
"Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry, Takamura Takamura Takamura…"
". . . ."
She's very silent.
Wiping a slow finger across her cheek, the woman stares at the damage done to her face via the residue on her nails.
"…Aron-kun."
She closes her eyes.
The once cold moonlight suddenly brings me a deafening shiver rather than an ethereal feeling.
Like the drop of a pen, the room becomes almost mute.
"I'm…dead."
I whisper the words like they were set in stone.
As for the black kimono.
Her voided eyes look no farther than her fingertips.
Even so, those same eyes are now covered by vanilla cake splatter.
…
"…Do you…realize…"
Like the ring of a bell, she opens her mouth once again.
The ring of the bell of death.
"…that this is tiramisu, Aron-kun…?"
"—eh?"
What was that?
Did she mutter 'tiramisu'?
While I'm familiar with the dish, I had never seen a person cover it with such ludicrous amounts of icing.
"…Yes. Look, the inside has the coffee ladyfingers. It was hidden behind a vanilla layer."
Upon further inspection, I can see the dark layer of ladyfingers hidden underneath the spongy texture.
In other words, it truly is tiramisu.
The woman raises her finger as if to present it to me.
With the coffee-stained tip, she sticks out her tongue and says—
"See? I've also got a 'ladyfinger', right?"
"Ah—"
She holds a childish smirk for five seconds.
"———ah…"
And then…
She…
"…nwahahahaha! You should have seen your face, Aron-kun."
"Uh…"
She bursts out in laughter.
More violent than before.
A true, hearty laugh, like it's been locked up for ages.
'Ages' as in literal ages—referring to human age—referring to years.
Needless to say, I'm speechless.
"Eh? Aron, is something on my face? You keep staring at me like I have three heads."
"!"
—Caught looking at her again.
And, we stare for a while.
I'm startled by her mannerisms, that's for sure…
"Mm. Well, this was a nice session, wouldn't you agree?"
Huh?
The question isn't strange, but it's her tone that makes me shiver.
Checking the clock above us, the time is now 1:40AM.
Takamura-sensei sighs lightly, as if letting go of a burden, and stands up.
"It was nice teaching you, Aron-kun. But I have to go now."
I nod, albeit so slightly that she probably couldn't notice.
But.
Why do I get the odd feeling of her rushed tone? As if she were leaving for a long time, and going away on a trip.
I suppose…
Her blackened eyes droop slightly more, and her hair seems less bobby as it was when she arrived.
Even her kimono seems a bit blacker.
"When will our next session be, Sensei…?"
"...."
She gives me a pained look.
One that tells me, "I have bad news", similar to that of a doctor who has to reveal a family member has died.
So, I definitely expect bad news, but I'm not particularly phased.
I'd guess it has to be something out of the ordinary for her—in other words, normal for us humans.
…But, via this night, I can't really depict her as a robot any longer.
After all, she had just shown me less than a minute ago how childish she really is.
She seemed so natural that the moment may have been a small slip up in her behavior. I suspect that's the very reason why she seems so distressed.
For a person with a heavy family burden to carry, breaking her cold composure must have—
"This will be our last time together, Aron-kun."
"What…?"
"Yes. My family requires my presence once more, as I previously discussed."
Again, her robotic prose emerges almost immediately as if the second her family was mentioned, an instinctive reactionary impulse ticked on.
"How long…will you be gone for?"
"I do not know. It will most likely be for thirty years or so, if I had to suppose."
"...What…?"
It's strange.
"I am sorry, Sustrous."
She calls me by my first name.
"I must go. It is urgent. Thank you for the meal."