A/N: Here is another installment of the one shot series! Thank you for all readers that have been reading the first two chapters; I hope that you are very much satisfied. Here, I focused on the relationship between the Hanadera Academy's Biology teacher, Yamanobe-sensei and the ever fickle Yellow Rose, Torii Eriko. The timeline was set within the span of the light novels, particularly on the 31st volume, where Eriko finally met Yamanobe's daughter. This was set after that fateful meeting. Yeah, this is another het pairing.

Last but not the least, a thousand THANKS and GRATITUDE to whoever was translating the light novels in a certain website for us avid readers. I would have not found my muse without the effort of that person. I wish I could translate Japanese.

HOW THEY WISH IT WAS RAINING

-TheSilentReader-

CHAPTER 3: Eriko and Yamanobe-sensei

A good lover will behave as elegantly at dawn as at any other time. He drags himself out of bed with a look of dismay on his face. The lady urges him on: "Come, my friend, it's getting light. You don't want anyone to find you here." He gives a deep sigh, as if to say that the night has not been nearly long enough and that it is agony to leave. Once up, he does not instantly pull on his trousers. Instead he comes close to the lady and whispers whatever was left unsaid during the night. Even when he is dressed, he still lingers, vaguely pretending to be fastening his sash. • Presently he raises the lattice, and the two lovers stand together by the side door while he tells her how he dreads the coining day, which will keep them apart; then he slips away. The lady watches him go, and this moment of parting will remain among her most charming memories. • Indeed, one's attachment to a man depends largely on the elegance of his leavetaking.

—THE PILLOW BOOK OF SEI SHONAGON, TRANSLATED AND EDITED BY IVAN MORRIS

Leavetaking

She kissed me all the same—on my cheeks. I knew that she lingered her lips more than was required. I knew that she was expecting more from me, which was quite understandable; this is how young female adult like her would expect from someone like me. She had announced it before, for the fifth time that we've met, that she loved me, and that she would be willing to be taken away by me. No, it did not even sound correct—I was the only one that she would allow to hold her hand. I had been doubtful of her declaration, knowing high school girls were that she was only curious of my peculiarity. But she was curious, indeed. Oh, you know how they play.

Her face was still perilously near my cheeks, her one hand upon my shoulder, her both feet standing on their toes, as she reached for me. We were outside her apartment, and it was now autumn, a clear indication that tonight was dangerously cold for our physical bodies. The wind was already warning us that soon, winter would be coming. Yet, she was still in front of me, not minding the sickening coldness that attacked us like a baseball bat. Yet, I could still feel the tension with her presence, and our location. The warmth of her hands seeped through sheets of thick clothing, while her lips left cold moisture upon my cheek.

"I should go inside."

Her voice suddenly brought me back to concentrate again to the current situation. She was two feet away from me already. Her posture was of good upbringing: her hands joining in front, her feet straight forward and closed together, her shoulders relaxed. As I looked at her face, I concluded that doing so was a bad idea. She smiled, her lips bending upward, but the optimism evoking from those lips was not reaching her eyes. I could tell much, with the peculiar streak of her brows. It was the first time that I saw this kind of expression from her.

"Well, then. I'll be leaving."

She fumbled with the contents of her bag; I stepped further away from her to give her some space. She finally got the key to the apartment door, and unlocked it. Then, she turned around and said formally, "Thank you for taking me home."

One might think that we just went out for a date and I volunteered myself to take her home. The second one was true, while the first—I was not sure. I told her clearly before that I did not love her, there was no point of acknowledging this day as one. I just introduced her to my daughter, whom I usually talked about whenever we meet. Eriko-san was particularly inquisitive about her, asking questions that I thought it might be best to introduce Aki-chan to her. A scientist satisfies her curiosity by observation. Knowing scientific method, coupled with the enthusiasm that I was observing from her, that even just once, I could grace her interest with the pleasure of introducing my family to her. Many things happened, and due to Aki's request for her to visit our home, I ended up driving this college student home. Now, she as she opened the door, the wind suddenly blew against us, that I could not even hold my expression, and said dramatically, "Damn, it's too cold."

What transpired between my five year-old progeny and Eriko-san, I do not know. The first moment that they set their eyes upon each other, I sensed discomfort upon my little girl, that its intensity was equally rivaled Eriko's returned look: curiosity. I thought that Eriko would be taken aback with the attitude that Aki was giving, but then, my daughter is different from her age group. I know enough that she was more perceptive and more mature than her peers. With Eriko-san's reaction was equally astounding for me. Most would have coax Aki to refrain her from being too antagonistic, but in Eriko's case, she responded differently. My daughter almost picked for a challenge, and it seemed that Eriko-san did not detect anything. But when Aki asked for some incense stick for Eriko to use for my late wife's altar, I assumed that my little kid was setting some boundaries and territories, like an alarmed mammal. Showing my wife's altar to Eriko was like pissing on a tree to set boundaries. After all, I have settled with the fact that I still could not get over with her passing, no matter how many years have gone by. It must be with human's monogamous nature, combined with the strict culture that I was brought upon. Or the fact that my daughter reminds me of her. With each passing day, I have not forgotten her, but it helped healing the pain that once devoured me into the threshold of insanity.

It was safe to say that I'm afraid of keeping anyone too close to me.

"Would you like to come in instead?"

Eriko-san suddenly blurted out. But then she immediately put both her hands to her mouth, and gasped. Her eyes were slowly bulging as she looked at me. I tried to act as I heard nothing. She repeated the question again. She knew immediately that I was thinking of ways not to go inside her apartment; it was evident upon her meeting eyebrows. I had no choice but to stall reasons, anything to prevent temptation to commence on creeping upon me. "But your brothers . . ."

She pouted, and said broodingly, "I am the only person in this apartment. My father and brothers won't be here for a fight." Then she opened the door wider, proving to me that there was no other person inside. It was dark inside. It was not her chaos-loving family members that I fear; it was the fact that once I go inside, we are all alone.

While my brain was deliberating with my body, I did not notice Eriko's hands grabbing my jacket and my arm. When my feet reflex for to gain my balance, I realized that I was already inside the room, Eriko-san removing my thick gray scarf from my neck. She placed it on a somewhere—I could not think straight anymore; I was already inside her apartment. I felt warmth upon me as I look at the interiors.

"Place your jacket there. I'll prepare tea. Or coffee, perhaps?" She asked as she disappeared to the kitchen.

The dull white exteriors of the apartment complex changed into pastel colors as I explored her apartment with my eyes. I went to the receiving area, and sat on the tatami mat before a low table. The room suited her. The wallpaper was colored peach (I could only count for that fruit; I'm not particular with colors, even though my daughter insisted that I should understand color-speak), embossed with flower-like designs. There was a television sitting upon large shelves filled with hardbound books (fiction and otherwise), which almost occupied one side of the room. I noticed the newly bought books about dinosaurs. There were several pictures on other adjacent shelves. There was one family picture. I noticed her friends from Lillian Academy—a certain blond and a raven-haired girl were with her in a picture encased in a beautiful iron-colored frame. Another was a group shot, comprising the two previous girls and five more girls that I was sure to be Eriko's kouhai. He recognized them completely; they were also inside the Lillian's school principal when he was summoned there. Another was separate pictures of a short-haired girl and a girl with her hair on long braids. What I did not expect was a picture of me and her at the zoo, me looking ahead to the elephant, while Eriko-san was looking at me. With passion. With just three encounters, she wholly got rid of all her inhibitions. I could not help myself but to stand and take a good look of the picture. I took it from where it stood.

"That's the only picture that I have of you."

I almost forgot that I was holding the picture the moment I heard Eriko's voice that I almost dropped it. I was busted; all I could do was to excuse myself properly for removing the article from its place. "My kouhai at school, the one who summoned you to the principal's office, she took that picture." She smiled at me, as if telling I was a boy who just got a wound from running around. "You were looking at the elephant, not minding everything around you. To be honest, I really got jealous of that mammal."

I have forgotten to decline the tea or coffee that she was offering earlier, and I realized it after she gracefully put a mug of freshly brewed coffee upon the low table. I love black coffee, and I did not even tell her that information. How did she know?

"It's black." I said, as I inspect the mug. "How did you know?"

She settled herself in front of me, folding her legs elegantly, as if she wore kimono. Her gait was that of a rich young woman. Even though we have been meeting over simple lunch a couple of times, I still am not used to her majestic, demure aura. Only the low table separated me from her. Still, she acted the perfect host. "I noticed the coffee-maker in your kitchen. And there was no creamer anywhere near the coffee beans."

She's truly peculiar. But I would never voice that kind of complement. "Very impressive. A true systematic observer."

She ears reddened. But she seemed to suppress anything that depicted happiness, and instead, her eyes moved away from mine, and muttered with a hint of spite, "Do you expect me to be downright inattentive to someone I deeply love?"

Women do get offended easily. My throat suddenly felt dry, even saliva could not act upon my discomfort. The steam of my hot coffee weakly clouded between us. She seemed to be expecting some answer, but I could not agree more of what she stated. It was directed to me, the little minx was pushing her feelings on me again. Before we came to this point, I thought that I could maintain a detached friendship with her, thinking that her interest upon me would soon waver like water on a stream. However, several months after this forced truce between us, our roles seemed to be reversing. I became more interested on her thought patterns, her behaviors, and the psychology of her being. Based from what I observed from her attitude, I extrapolate her actions, her words, her reactions to any stimuli, and thus far, my assumptions, almost all of them have been wrong. Her life was like lice on hair growth, or mosquitoes piercing onto the epidermis down to the narrow capillary—it was an itch that needed to be scratched.

The faster I grate my fingernails upon dead epidermal cells, the more I got satisfaction.

I expected her to be carried away with my simple compliment. But her response seemed otherwise. She was not impressed by my logic.

Yet, I could not voice out my real thoughts. "Eriko-san, my feelings . . ."

She stopped me even before I could finish my sentence. "If you think that my feelings for you are superficial, you have no idea how erroneous you are." She looked at me in the eye. I felt that I was like a bug trapped in a spider web, the black widow ready to suck my dry. "I never joked when I told you that I love you. It never changed, even with the feigned ignorance that you have been dispatching around lately." She bit her lip. She seemed to be eyeing on some lint on her cardigan.

Did she even know what I was about to say?

I thought she was going to stay on her position; I was wrong again. Instead, she excused herself and went to her bedroom. There were a little partition between the receiving area and the bedroom, but there was no door that would lock her up inside. My thoughts rapidly changing into something that I tried not to entertain, therefore, I sank my lips upon the lid of the mug, and drank my black coffee.

The coffee was good. It was of the right flavor. She added a little sugar, too. I was enjoying too much the pleasure of Eriko's coffee, stimulant as it was, until the fact that Eriko disappeared to her bedroom gave me the idea of the worst situation a man could ever be. The battle between priorities and desires came over me like lectures of Erik Erickson. Being too scholarly or even the acute fascination to any large organism did not excuse me to the pressure to fulfill a natural reward called sex.

Suddenly the coffee seemed to be at its full potential in a matter of seconds, and the heater became too excited to do its function. One opened button of my shirt was not enough to diffuse the heat in me; therefore I resorted to fanning myself with my hands. Unsatisfied, I huffed my apparel by the chest repeatedly. Still unsatisfied, I opened another button down. She was still not coming out of the room. I still need to leave her house properly; leaving the half-empty mug and not even thanking her for the small service would be to ungrateful. She might think that I was just taking advantage of her.

I am not that kind of man. Although my confusion eddied into much turmoil as I analyzed the situation—I should have not allowed myself get inside her apartment. I could have just acted like a grown senior, scolded her, and insisted that it was improper to invite an older man to her home. When I was about to get up, she came out of her room. Reflex obliged me to sit down again.

The cardigan that she was wearing was now gone, leaving a pale yellow dress that only had thin straps upon her shoulders. She removed her red headband too, which was a very prominent change upon her appearance; never could I imagine her without it. So this was the dress that was hiding under her cardigan? As I noticed her slender frame upon the door, my eyes drifted from her un-banded head, her pale brown eyes, her salmon pink (my daughter insisted to memorize color-speak) cheeks, her red-stained lips. I fought against my basal instincts to scan further down her length—her pale neck, the slight line of her collarbone, the smooth slopes of her slender shoulders, the ample swelling of her breasts—no, this is not what I'm supposed to be doing, ogling at her like a dirty geezer.

"Sensei?"

I stood up from where I sit, embarrassed of my action. I knew that I should remove myself anywhere near her; I need time to compose myself. It was not new that she was beautiful, and I am a witness to her unfaltering exquisiteness as days of or meetings went by. Every time I see her, she reveals her every facet to me, unafraid to voice out her thoughts and feelings. I kept on assuming that she would somehow act otherwise, to act rather girly, clumsy or flirty (she aimed for my affection, that I'm much aware), but she had never done anything inappropriate. Not once she pushed herself upon me, to try anything sly. Where could one even find a woman like her? I have forgotten how smitten I was with one of their species before.

"Eriko-san, I need to leave. My daughter might be looking for me."

I bowed down, more prostrated than required; I don't want her to see what I have been thinking for the past moment. It was inappropriate, this desire to satisfy my senses beyond the color and architecture of her dress.

"Oh, right, Sensei."

She knew what I was thinking—I am sure of it. The moment was too embarrassing that she walked rather too fast to the door to usher me out. She un-hanged my jacket, and waited for me to proceed. I put on my shoes. I was at the door, she was behind me, I was about to twist the door knob, when suddenly I heard her sighing, "Goodbye, Sensei." I stopped anything that required energy, and focused upon the meaning of her farewell. Yet, I could not process anything.

Without thinking, I let the door remain closed as I reached out for the nape of her neck and kissed her.

I still could not gauge the deepness of my affection for her; all I know was that she had occupied a place in me that I could not ignore anymore. We only had few moments that we considered romantic. Always I tried to be a good elder for this younger woman. She had stated clearly that she loved me dearly, no matter how peculiar I was, regardless of my circumstances, and she was proving it to me ever since we decided to be friends. If I could be more of a smart man, I could have taken the opportunity of playing her. I could have considered her a distraction. Yet, I was here in her apartment, frustratingly admitting to myself that her efforts are now pulling off—she has been capturing more and more of my affection. When she met my daughter, and was equally fond with her, I felt a surge of happiness upon me. I could not blame it alone to serotonin, I guess.

She responded with a gasp, but still, I held on her neck, savoring her unguarded condition and aimed my mouth upon hers. She tasted good, too good. Her lips were moving against mine, and she was riding on the pace that I wanted. I felt the increasing firm grip of her arms on my torso; one arm snaking upon my upper back, her fingernails digging on my white shirt. One hand was caressing across my pectorals, grazing her palms onto my neck, and settled on my cheek. I have not noticed that mine was moving on its own accord—her sharp hips felt soft upon the digits of my hand. Her hair was soft too, as I grazed my other hand from her nape to the scalp of the back of her head. I was too caught up with our kissing that I had not known that I had pinned her already upon the door. My hands were running up and down her back, while she fisted on my hair to settle my lips upon her longer, in a very demanding fashion. Her other hand was running upon my abdomen too, erratic of its direction that I was suffering where she would place her hand next. She gasped again when I parted her legs with one knee, as I left her mouth and swept her neck and collarbone with my lips, tongue and teeth. Her heaving chest were dangerously closer now to my mouth, but I was too intoxicated with her scent—a natural fragrance that came from her breasts that could not help but got over any inhibition and feasted on one covered breast. She moaned in response. I gently cupped the other breast, and returned kissing her on the mouth. She countered with much force; our kisses were wetter and more arousing that the previous ones—her tongue darting and fighting against mine. One of her legs fastened on mine, telling me that I should get closer—much closer—to her.

I could not recall how long we have been doing this . . . somehow inhibited passion between our mouths and bodies when we stopped just to get air into our abused and deprived lungs. We heaved for air, large amounts of it. No sound registered upon my ears other than our rapid gasps. When I looked into her eyes, they were misted, glistening with passion, wanting more than just this torrid kissing. My jacket was on the floor. I looked at her body: the hem of her dress was shifted upward, the zipper on at the back of the dress was almost unzipped on its way down, the straps were on the sides of her arms, and her chest was showing much of her cleavage and skin, that I already noticed tiny hints of her nipples. I shifted upon my status; only one button of my shirt was left unfastened, and the sleeves were already pushed down to reveal my shoulders and torso. Her hair was a mess. When I realized what I've done (fuck, I initiated it!), I removed myself from leaning too close to her fervent body. I could not look through her eyes, I could not think of any excuse for my aggression, "Eriko-san—"

She stopped me with a finger upon my lips. "I'm not offended."

Yet, a barrier seemed to separate both of us, leading to a shared embarrassment. With nothing else to offer, I swiftly took both of her hands, and faced her again. "No apology could appeal with what I did. You must think that I am abusing you with mixed signals."

She was blushing while she looked down. "I did not expect my first kiss to be this . . . messy, but in general, I love the way you took care of me." She seemed to notice that one button of my shirt was let unfastened, therefore, she gently removed her hands on mine and fastened the next upper button. One by one she buttoned my shirt. I just watched her fascinated to this situation that used to be distant memory from my past. When she finished them all, she slowly smoothed the wrinkles upon the planes of my shoulders and chest with her both hands, and whispered, "You know that I'm always be waiting for you. I'll wait, until you've settled on keeping me."

When she looked at me again, she smiled.

She began to arrange her dress. I could not fathom that she was the only one taking care of this mess, therefore, getting permission from her, "Here, let me." I gently pulled the straps to her shoulders. I reached up to her back while she gained support by putting both her hands on my chest and leaning on me, and zipped her dress back to place. When I began to comb her hair with my hands, I told her, "I think I need to go, before it gets too late." I said too guiltily.

She fastened some hair at the back of her ear, "Yes, I think you should."

When I reached for the doorknob, I said again, "Goodnight, Eriko."

"Goodnight, Sensei."

I kissed her again. Briefly on the lips.

She watched me walked away from the apartment complex, even in the cold. She was still wearing the dress, without putting on any warm clothing. She watched me walked away, with a smile on her face.

I, on the other hand, could not take my eyes off of her anymore. I repeatedly turned around until she went back inside.

I need to come up with some intelligent reason for Aki-chan for my long absence.

END