Literature classes were often boring for Yashiro. Seeing her teacher standing in front of the blackboard, reading a paragraph or the activity they were supposed to do with the same tone sick of life and that tired look, made her completely sleepy, as well as her classmates, who ended up disowning literature in general every year that passed. However, that day was different, since for the first time the teacher allowed them to engage in an outdoor activity, in the courtyard of the academy. Even though almost all the students carried a digital tablet, Yashiro was one of the few who still kept a physical notebook to write with.
While some of her classmates completed the activity on the spot believing that the teacher was not aware of it, others decided to show first what they had done over the weekend. The woman listened attentively from her place to the different topics chosen, whose only condition was that they had to be related to modernity. She always had a serious expression that dissolved all possible emotion, making it difficult to know what she was thinking. Only when they finished reading what they had written did they receive the corresponding qualification or, hopefully, some critical commentary from the woman. Yashiro wondered if that formality was her disguise or, on the contrary, her true face.
She stopped listening to what they were saying, she no longer knew whether they were reading poems, essays or short stories. On the screen of her tablet a notification caught her eye, and she decided to display it when she saw the name of the sender. Rikako, who was also in class, had somehow sensed her boredom and asked her what they were doing, whether she was participating in the class or simply reading something else. Yashiro did not usually use that messenger system, but she fumbled with one of her fingers on the glass a couple of times until she chose to reply. And in a short time, she forgot about the surrounding environment to imagine, in turn, Rikako's bored face on the other side. When her literature teacher approached, she only noticed her presence when she could make out the shadow in front of her.
"Takahashi-san, you are the only one left. Why don't you come forward and enlighten us with something that hasn't been said?" the teacher asked, arranging her glasses.
Yashiro was completely startled, and looked to find the dark brown eyes of the woman intercepting her coldly. For several endless seconds she sat motionless in one of the courtyard seats, with Rikako's open chat in her hands and the notebook containing the full activity below. As she got up, she turned off the screen leaving it on the stone surface, and moved forward with her physical notebook followed by the rigid gaze of the woman, who placed herself in front of the other students, about three feet away.
Yashiro opened her notebook, but just then the teacher shook her head and raised her chin, directing her to stand on the seat of the holographic fountain so that she could be seen better. The young woman gave her a look of utter dismay before giving in, wondering if she would have been angry that she had been doing something else all through the class. If she wanted to make her uncomfortable so that she would regret having chatted with Rikako, she had to make a greater effort.
Yashiro's eyes burst open as she turned the page more and more intently, looking for the work she thought she had done. She finally let out a deep sigh and when she closed it again, the glances fell on her with softness and enthusiasm, some even accompanied by smiles. She breathed before continuing and put her hair back in front of her, though she was actually improvising. The teacher knew it and enjoyed testing her constantly. Yashiro was tired of it, but not because she had to make such an effort, but rather because she was no longer interested in doing so, much less within the academy.
"I decided to call the topic I chose love in modernity," she began to say, pausing to further clarify her voice and take a quick look at her classmates, who respected her space and listened very carefully. "More than one will feel identified, others will surely hate me in silence…"
Yashiro lost her speech for a few moments when, a couple of feet behind her classmates, she discovered the figure of Professor Shibata watching her closely, formally dressed as she had seen him several times before. No one had been aware of his presence save herself, and he seemed to ask her with his eyes to continue. He was a person willing to listen to her of his own free will, not merely because it was an educational activity, or because one had to be in solidarity with the person speaking.
He was standing right there when he could read in the coffee shop, quiet and alone. Yashiro smiled furtively, gesturing her hands again as she spoke to give more focus. Though her voice was soft, the tone she used managed to convey the eagerness that ate away at her entire body; she was curious to know what the reaction of her teacher, her classmates, and Professor Shibata would be.
"We live in a time where love is like water that flows, flows without ever being transformed… people force themselves to feel happiness and trust with others to protect their mental health, ignoring the dangers that lie ahead," she stopped briefly, exchanging a glance with the attentive amber eyes. "Love was always conceived as an energizer that motivates the individual to live, to face the worst enemies and death itself.
"However, in a state where each of its inhabitants gives his will in exchange for welfare and social security, there is no love other than that which is directed towards the benefactor. To this we should add the fact that today there are so many people on the net, that meeting or dating someone is a matter of entering a profile and sending a message," that comment caused some laughter among her classmates, but the teacher was standing idly by, and for the first time she saw her slowly nodding in her direction, as if sharing the point of view. "People become disposable, interchangeable profiles. Why stay with one when there are many others? Why spend so many years with just one when I can get to know someone better?"
Only then, did her classmates seem to realize where she had been heading from the beginning, since their faces became serious and none of them dared to laugh or even counteract her words. The only one who seemed to agree was—to her amazement—the teacher. Having been born in a different era, she affirmed with her then understanding eyes that things had changed a lot since she was young, essentially human relations.
"The eternal pleasure," Professor Shibata introduced himself with his hands in his trouser pockets.
He had captured the attention of everyone present, including Yashiro. Those who were closest to him suddenly turned around, as if he were a ghost. Even the literature teacher herself was stunned by the interruption, but when she opened her mouth as if to object something against him, Yashiro's voice broke through like a great hurricane; if she had had to restrain her impulses until then so as not to be so blunt, by now she had lost the ability to control herself.
"And the eternal boredom," Yashiro complemented without looking away.
The frenzy she felt in those moments to keep talking, was so great that for a few seconds Yashiro even forgot where she was standing. She caught a glimpse of a fleeting wry smile on Shibata's face, who seemed to predict her thoughts and comprehend them as his own.
"So that… love, as well as friendship, were degraded over time," the young man confirmed, raising his head a few inches.
Glances passed from her to Professor Shibata and so on, as they replied to each other, separated from reality, as if they were in an impenetrable tunnel.
"And if we bear in mind all those people willing to find the way to immortality… future gets even darker," Yashiro answered in a pejorative tone unknown to her classmates, after pointing his hand at an invisible audience. She stood slightly bent over, looking at him with indescribable depth, until she narrowed her eyes and chose to go on, full of both irony and indignation. "We are less bored than our ancestors were, but we are more afraid of boredom."
Professor Shibata's eyes dilated as if memories were flooding into his mind, and Yashiro watched, from her position, the authentic smile that slowly formed on his lips, flashing his white teeth in a sneaky manner, until he let out a short, gentle laugh, almost as if he had not laughed in years and was savoring that feeling from the depths of his being, an expression as sincere as sardonic.
"And as Russell also claimed: a generation that cannot endure boredom will be a generation of little men, of men unduly divorced from the slow processes of nature, of men in whom every vital impulse slowly withers, as though they were cut flowers in a vase."
Silence again came between the two of them for a whole minute, during which each remained absorbed in the other, forgetting everything that could be found around. The teacher was about to say something, but she was interrupted by the murmurs of various students who had finished their respective classes and were flooding the academy courtyard, sitting on benches or standing under trees, to talk in the shade. Then, the woman addressed Professor Shibata in a threatening manner, or so she wished to appear, even though her efforts were in vain in the face of the taller and more ruthless figure.
"Shouldn't you be teaching…?" she questioned, stopping three feet away.
The hesitant manner in which she addressed the young man, squinting and arranging her glasses in the process, was a clear indication that she did not know him. However, the latter did not seem to care about her presence or even about the glaring look she held while studying him, as if she were trying to dominate him with all her might.
"My class is over," he replied dryly, without a hint of emotion in his voice.
Only then did he turn his peaceful gaze away from Yashiro to focus on her, his face slightly tilted, as if to denote superiority and to provoke her. Yashiro wondered how far he was willing to go with that interruption, and was curious to know what would happen next. She wanted, needed to see her teacher's reaction. Therefore, like her classmates, she stood by.
Tension seemed to be increasing, both teachers were in an unstoppable and invisible competition of looks, being noticed by the group of students around them. Yashiro knew the woman well enough as to realize that she was indeed angry, for she did not like having her class broken into without asking permission, especially if the blame lay with another teacher like herself, who had to set an example for her students by respecting others.
"Shibata-sensei helped me with my research, recommending books," Yashiro raised her voice, jumping out of her seat and catching the eye of all present. "I am not surprised he is interested in how my work ends."
The teacher examined her every move, reflecting on the very natural and jovial words that had come out of the student's mouth. Although she was observing her in the inquisitive manner she used to do with everyone, Yashiro was completely relaxed, with an upright body and a firm, confident, if not exaggerated expression. She could sense the professor inspecting her from a distance, wondering if the literature's one would believe the lie or hesitate instead. After a few seconds in complete silence, she managed once and for all to make her fall for her charms, and the woman let out a deep sight, thus breaking up the aggressive atmosphere.
"I expect a report from each of you for next class," she concluded, softening her icy gaze for a split second until she centered it on Yashiro for the last time. "You always do things on the spur of the moment. But a fundamental part of life is learning to improvise."
Yashiro smiled half-heartedly, realizing then that the teacher's lessons could be almost as masterful as Touma's. The only difference between the two was age. Her teacher's eyes denoted an exhaustion that went beyond physical fitness. She seemed to have lost every ounce of hope, of compassion for the students. The darkness of her countenance was a vivid reflection not only of the way time had passed for her, but for the entire society.
Shibata devoted a long, complicit gaze to her from his place, smiling in a way that only she could perceive. And just then, did she realize that all along he knew that she would come forward to defend him at some point, he had merely waited long enough to see it with his own eyes, which seemed, in those moments, to shine like two enormous suns. He was testing her, and that completely baffled her.
After the class was finally over, the teacher left to go into the academy and her classmates scattered around the large courtyard, not without first letting out huffs and puffs of dismay at the assignment they had to give. Some approached to get to know the young man, enraptured by his appearance. That is how she came to overhear that he was an art teacher, Rikako probably had him in one of her classes.
However, Yashiro limited herself to keeping her belongings in her messenger bag, engrossed in the conversation she had held only minutes before, until a few steps behind her caught her attention and a figure cast a shadow on her back. Yashiro hung up her bag, pausing for a brief moment to imagine the presence in her mind, repeating his voice like echoes lost from afar.
"Takahashi Yashiro, aren't you?" he said, with an unwavering softness that made her turn around in surprise. He was three feet away, unmindful of the fact that other students were sneaking a peek at them. "I see. Well then, Yashiro, would you like to have a cup of tea with me?"
Yashiro extended the silence by observing him with a genuine and growing curiosity. Every time she connected with his eyes a strange feeling took over her entire body, as if that abyss in his gaze had to be discovered. She felt that behind that professor's disguise a very different person was hiding. It had never happened to her before and that feeling was crowding her mind, giving no room for anything else. It seemed that all around her was starting to fall apart, except for themselves.
"I appreciate it," she answered at last, receiving a smile of delight.