Chapter 6: That Day It Rained

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The room was a dark canvas. In its deepest aspect rain poured, shrouded and muffled, on the opposite side of a window, its frame a near-seamless transition from the dark walls of the office to the night. Its only flaw was its crystalline nature: it reflected too adamantly the light of the computer screen. Though the screen faced away from the window, its luminance, even on the lowest setting, rendered the window reflective with a thin sheet of glare.

Sensei stared at his alter-self in the window as he took a sip of his coffee. The thought struck him that if he had saved this work for the morning, he wouldn't spend half his time looking up to the window to rest his eyes. Even when he stood up and walked around a bit to wake himself up, the screen's light dominated his vision, as if it were a perfect, rectangular tear in reality, staring at him expectingly to continue. Sensei weighed the risk-reward of turning in for the night and sighed. Putting off this work would only make him chronically late for everything else going forward, so he resolved to keep moving.

A faint sound in the distance knocked Sensei out of his pensive state. Unsure if he had heard it, he waited. Then it happened again: knocking. Sensei did a quick mental survey of if he had recently missed a tax deadline and briskly made his way out of his main office. The general student council was generous in the amenities they provided: pantries full of food, teams at the ready to rearrange the office as he saw fit. There was no way Sensei could arrange the entire building by himself. It was large enough to house him and the staff he was put in charge of.

This late in the night, the staff at the front desk would have gone home. Only a few security patrols should be in the building, but they wouldn't have known that Sensei was pulling an all-nighter today. As Sensei made his way to the entrance of his suite, there was complete silence. Sensei did not have a weapon – he was an educator, not a fighter. Any attempt of violence would be unwise. A ransom could always be paid with enough money, but a life was not so easily replaced.

With this convenient rationalization, Sensei turned on the lights, wincing as his eyes adjusted to the light again. Then he unlocked the door and opened it. Kayoko shielded her eyes with her sweater sleeve and made an augmented noise of disapproval.

"Kayoko?" Sensei asked, not withholding his surprise. "It's three in the morning. What are you doing here?"

Kayoko gently pushed forward without responding. Just from that brief moment of contact, Sensei could tell her sweater was completely soaked from the downpour. She made her way across the room and sat on the edge of the couch, training her gaze on the coffee table in front of her.

Sensei idled for a moment, processing the situation. In his daily operations, he anticipated complications and prepared contingencies; however, when he considered what he should do in this situation, for the first time in a long time, he was at a loss.

Once she was sure Sensei wasn't looking, Kayoko briefly glanced up from the coffee table and saw Sensei rummaging through a side-closet of the office. When it looked like he was going to turn around again, she grounded her gaze to the coffee table once more. A tidal wave of shame forbade her from even acknowledging that they were sharing a space together.

She heard his footsteps coming closer. "Take off your sweater. You're going to catch a cold."

A slow swell of heat started on her face. Although she shivered under her soaked-through sweater and shirt, she reflexively opted to preserve her pride.

Before she could stammer a more thorough objection, Sensei wrapped her in a large, thick blanket until only her face was visible. She sneezed. If the blanket were spread out, it would be enough to cover a king-sized bed, but it was being used to wrap up a single student… it was snug.

"Cover yourself with this while you do it. I don't want you getting sick because you wanted to visit me."

It's not your fault, she wanted to say, but she couldn't bring herself to.

Kayoko stared at Sensei until he turned away, then she wrestled the sweater off of her under the protective obstruction of the blanket.

While Sensei was turned away, he muttered, "I don't really keep any clothes in this office that would fit you, but I can show you where the facilities are."

Kayoko didn't respond for a few moments, then she gave an affirmation. After imparting the information, Sensei excused himself to see if he could find a lost-and-found box outside the office, leaving Kayoko by herself, unsupervised. With her newfound solitude, not knowing how long it would take for Sensei to come back, all she felt like doing is sinking deeper into the blanket and disappearing. If she was lucky enough to fall asleep, maybe she could save herself the shame of being a burden.

But… she really didn't like the feeling of going to sleep in a wet shirt.

The Schale office had been closed before it was reopened for Sensei, so there was, understandably, no lost-and-found box in the building. Seconds after leaving the office, Sensei suspected this, but he kept going in spite of it.

Why did she come here? Stress like a fever began to set in. Sensei zig-zagged through the corridors of the dark building. In the dearth of new ideas, simple movement became an unspoken substitute for solutions. Something had happened to Kayoko, but he was sorely inadequate. He could feel the fear setting in like a long gasp in his chest.

He was supposed to be the one who could make everything alright. He knew this ever since he first met the general student council, and he saw in their eyes unspoken requests for reassurance, to say that the student president was okay, that the chaos that would follow wouldn't destroy what they built, but quailing disorder with a well-directed squad of armed students could not compare with navigating emotion and shame. For Sensei, one took mere moments of thought, while the other required reading in between lines that hadn't been written.

Like flying in a storm, it felt like the turbulence would tear him apart.

Before Sensei realized it, he was at the end of the building, facing a long window stretching the length of the hallway. Outside, silver darts of water fell at an oblique angle, as if even they feared the rumbling thunder.

Alas, I can't follow you, because men aren't rain. As not only a man but also a teacher, Sensei had to be responsible. He couldn't hide and walk laps around this building, even if his head burned trying to come up with something to do. It felt grim. From his own experience, he knew that if all was not right, the image of control could in of itself help a student steady themselves and cope. It might not be enough, but it was the minimum. Any other solution fails without this image. Sensei remembered those days of his youth and what those adults did to tread water – and help others tread water. A part of Sensei knew that one day it would be his turn.

He turned around and made his way back. The thunder called behind him; Sensei steeled himself and continued.

By the time he arrived, 15 minutes had passed since he had first left Kayoko. He knew there were good reasons why not, but it was times like this that he wished his office door had a window. This way, he wouldn't have to take what happens next all at once. With even a small glimpse, he could dispel his overactive imagination and push forward, but right now, for all he knew, there was the pupil of God behind this door. It felt like it was piercing his soul.

Holding his breath, Sensei opened the door slowly, and there was no one there. The living room was abandoned. The only trace of what came before was the blanket he had taken out earlier. When Sensei walked further in and rounded a corner to his office, he bumped into someone.

Having not heard the door open, Kayoko startled when she bumped into Sensei, cup ramen in hand.

The first thing Sensei saw was the top of her head, then her thin, pale neck. Near its base, there was a familiar black tie, haphazardly knotted and barely concealing the beginning of an undershirt that quickly fell under an oversized dress shirt. It was clear she could not figure out how to tuck the tie below the collar of the dress shirt. The top-most button wasn't fastened. What would've pressed firmly on Sensei's neck would've left ample space for her, but it seemed the button proved difficult and meaningless enough for her that she left it, revealing part of her collarbone. Sensei realized for the first time that Kayoko wore a thin, black choker and wondered if it had always been there.

"H-hey." Kayoko's eyes flickered to and from Sensei as she cobbled together a flustered greeting. "I didn't think you'd come back so soon."

"This is a pretty small building."

Kayoko gazed into her cup ramen as she slowly stirred it. "I thought you would take a while checking rooms…"

Did she get lost in the building!? For the first time in a while, Sensei let out a genuine laugh. "You really made yourself comfortable here, huh."

She regained some of her cool poise. "I had to… improvise. I'm sure you don't mind, Sensei."

Sensei looked her over. Kayoko inadvertently swallowed when he closed the distance between them. With an expert hand, Sensei undid her tie, adjusted it, then tied it properly, tightening it enough to close the collar of the dress shirt. "There," he said. "Now we're good. If you're going to wear a tie, you have to do it properly: they have power, you know."

"Haha… sorry," she said, trying her best to keep her gaze to the side. "I never learned how."

Sensei motioned for her to look closer. "Here, let me show you."

As Sensei undid the tie once more, Kayoko watched his hands move, weaving the tie with masterful dexterity. From time to time, Sensei noticed her glancing up for a moment at his eyes, then back down to his hands. For the next few minutes, Sensei made sure Kayoko knew how to wear a tie with the respect it deserved.

Sensei thought it funny now. All this time, he had been acting as if he were the only one with agency, that all solutions began and ended with him. Kayoko holds as much of the solution as he did. Although in our moments of weakness we may not be able to stand ourselves up, we must still struggle, for if we stop trying, we lose ourselves; when somebody finally reaches their hand out to us, we rest heavier in the dirt, limp.

Kayoko has been struggling with this longer than Sensei knows – and probably ever will know. She's strong, but he must still reach out his hand because that is what he must do, if he ever wants to see the day where she smiles again like the past and future never mattered.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Still more to come.