Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 11 - Chapter 2.2

2

When Sakuta got to the cram school, he found Rio in the free space outside the faculty area. She was already wearing her teacher’s jacket—a blazer that looked a lot like a white lab coat.

She was talking to a boy in a Minegahara uniform. A pretty tall one, at least a head taller than she was. The dots connected.

“The basketball kid Kunimi mentioned.”

Two years younger than them, a second-year player.

Rio was explaining how to solve a problem, and he was listening intently.

“You calculate the momentum first…”

She started writing a formula in a notebook on the table. She leaned forward to do so, which put her closer to the student. That must have gotten to him, because he leaned back, keeping his distance.

The way he spoke was a bit tense—standard enough for a boy talking to a girl. But it felt like there was a bit more going on. His eyes were less on the pen running across the page than Rio’s expression.

“Then you just follow the formula. Give it a try.”

Rio looked up as she finished writing. Her eyes met the boy’s, and he quickly turned his gaze toward the vending machine.

Ah, youth. That made it pretty hard to miss.

“Are you listening?” Rio asked.

“I’m listening.”

A low, steady voice.

“You understand?”

“I do not.”

“Because you weren’t listening?”

“Sorry.”

As Sakuta watched this, both noticed him looking.

“Um, thank you. I’ll give it another try,” the tall boy said, closing the notebook before heading off to a self-study room.

“Ask again if you get stuck,” Rio called.

“Will do,” he said, turning back and bowing. This time the door closed behind him.

“Kunimi’s kohai?”

“Seems like.”

“He got a name?”

“Toranosuke Kasai.”

Her eyes told him that she was wondering why he’d asked.

“Just thought it could get interesting.”

“……?”

Rio didn’t seem to catch his drift. That wasn’t like her. But she did seem like the type to be oblivious to this kind of attention. It was much easier to see from the outside.

“I’ve got a class to prep.”

“Oh, wait, Futaba…”

“What?”

“You heard of hashtag dreaming?”

“Of course.”

“It really is a thing.”

Maybe it was something people naturally stumbled across by virtue of using a phone regularly.

“Is this Touko Kirishima related?”

“Akagi was using that hashtag to play hero.”

Probably still was. Given the way she’d acted when she left, Sakuta was confident she was on her way to save someone else.

“What for?”

“Just can’t leave well enough alone, I guess. She started a volunteer club, too. That girl’s big on helping people.”

“Was she like that back in the day?”

“I think she was, like, class president or on the student council?”

He really didn’t remember.

There were thirty kids in a class, and you could easily go the whole year without speaking to some of them. To Sakuta, that’s all Ikumi Akagi had been.

“But from what you’ve said, this isn’t actually her Adolescence Syndrome. Wasn’t that the whole premise here?”

“That it was.”

Ikumi was just using a hashtag to help people. But the posts tagged #dreaming were all being independently posted by total strangers.

She’d seen one of those and used it to help save the little girl from the pumpkin lantern. That was all.

No part of that gave any hint as to what Ikumi’s own Adolescence Syndrome might be. The matter resolved itself without anything like that getting involved.

“Futaba, what’s your take on it?”

“If it’s not causing problems for her, you should let it be.”

Rio had a point there.

“If she’s being a hero and running a volunteer group, then I don’t see how she’s suffering from Adolescence Syndrome.”

“That’s the thing.”

Ikumi seemed untroubled.

In every case of Adolescence Syndrome Sakuta had previously encountered, the afflicted had been driven into a corner. There were usually strong emotions involved.

But he didn’t sense anything like that coming from Ikumi.

The only exception had been Uzuki’s case. No dramatic changes, just a gradual shift. Before she knew it, she was different.

“Nice, huh? Having someone besides you playing hero.”

Rio slapped his shoulder with her file, like she was congratulating him on a job well done. Then she headed into a study pod.

“It is high time I left adolescence behind,” Sakuta muttered.

He went into the locker room to change.

After an overview of the midterms, he spent a good fifteen minutes teaching his students how to solve quadratic functions.

“Sakuta-sensei, we need a break! I’m totally fried!” Kento Yamada wailed, collapsing onto the desk. His uniform jacket was slung over the back of his chair—it was from Minegahara, the same place Sakuta had gone.

His other student, Juri Yoshiwa, wore the same uniform except it was the girls’ version.

The two of them were seated at a long table built for three. An empty seat between them. There was a whiteboard on the wall across from them, and that was Sakuta’s default position. Sometimes he drew on the board; sometimes he taught while hovering over their notebooks.

He’d finished explaining how to solve things, and they were tackling practice problems. Kento’s focus had run out before he managed to get through them all.

“Yamada, this class lasts another half hour.”

Cram school classes were a full eighty minutes.

“That’s an eternity!”

Compared with the length of high school classes, it certainly was pretty long. But from a teaching perspective, it went by surprisingly quick.

“It’s a teacher’s job to keep their students motivated,” Kento snarked, chin on the table.

Sakuta glanced at Juri, who’d been studiously working on the problems—and she was stifling a yawn. Not as blatant as Kento, but her focus was clearly flagging, too.

“Okay, we’ll take five.”

“Yes!”

Sakuta was still getting paid for it, which made him feel a bit guilty. But if his students wanted a break, who was he to argue? Still, five minutes in silence would put them both to sleep.

“You heard of this hashtag dreaming thing?” he asked.

“Do you believe that stuff, Sakuta-sensei? That’s bad news.”

“Not as bad as your midterm scores, Yamada.”

He’d been shown answer sheets with a big ole 30 at the top of them, worse than he’d feared. Since he was tutoring the kid, Sakuta would’ve liked it if he got good grades.

“I had a dream come true,” Juri said, breaking her silence. “A month ago, I dreamed I’d score a winning point with a service ace.”

She meant in a beach volleyball match. Juri was on a Hiratsuka team. The reason she still sported a healthy tan in November was easily explained by her sport of choice.

“I posted about it with the hashtag, and then it came true in the match last Sunday.”

“But you also practiced like hell before it and landed exactly the serve you wanted, right?” Kento said. He was still flat on the desk, sounding bored.

“……”

Juri took a good long look at him. Perhaps she hadn’t expected it from him.

“Trust yourself, not this supernatural crap,” Kento said, totally oblivious.

“You took what I said way too seriously,” she said, already back to her usual self. She wasn’t looking in his direction anymore.

“Th-that wasn’t on purpose!”

Kento shot up in open denial. It was apparent he felt called out. Meanwhile, Juri’s eyes were locked on Sakuta.

“Then you’re just being creepy.”

“Creepy?! That’s so not fair!”

“Never said I was,” she snapped, before he could argue further.

There wasn’t much he could say to that.

His lips flapped for a minute, and then he looked around for help.

“Let’s keep it down. Futaba-sensei’s teaching next door, and I don’t want her telling me off again.”

No sooner had the words left Sakuta’s mouth than there was a knock on the cubicle wall.

“See? She’s here.”

He turned to the entrance, ready to get an earful.

But the face peering around the partition was not grumpy Rio.

It was a girl in a Minegahara uniform.

One he’d spoken to once before.

Her name was Sara Himeji. She bobbed her head, wavy hair swaying.

“Sorry, is this a good time? Seemed like you were just chatting.”

“Huh? Himeji?”

Kento swung around to stare, his voice cracking.

“Funny seeing you out of school,” Sara said with a giggle, waving.

Kento’s grin got real sloppy. It was obvious he was too embarrassed to wave back and unsure what else to do with himself.

“……”

Juri glanced once at the two of them, then looked away.

“What brings you here, Himeji?” Sakuta asked.

She wasn’t his student, so he figured she wasn’t here for him.

“Mind if I sit in on one of your classes, Azusagawa-sensei?”

“Like I said, if you actually want to understand the math, Futaba-sensei’s a better choice.”

“But if I want to pass my tests, you are,” she said, winking at him.

“That’s certainly my intent, but my confidence has been badly shaken.”

“How so?” she asked, long lashes fluttering.

“Yamada here got a thirty.”

“Sakuta-sensei! That’s private information!”

“What an idiot,” Juri said with her chin in her hand.

“Hey!” Kento said, but before he could protest further, Sara sat down in the vacant middle seat.

“Oh, it is a thirty!” she said, examining his answer sheet. That shut Kento up quick.

He turned forward, back perfectly straight.

Boys were so obvious.

And the finishing blow—

“Lemme share your textbook,” Sara said, her shoulder bumping his.

“Mine?”

“We’re classmates!”

“Right…”

He was doing his absolute best to act like this didn’t get to him, and Sakuta had to try equally hard not to laugh. But he decided it was best not to leak any other personal information, so he called an end to the break and resumed his lesson.