Chapter Text
D class group chat
humanallergy, herlock solmes, and average nietzsche enjoyer are online
humanallergy: congratulations, youve finally made the teacher quit
herlock solmes: yayyy
average nietzsche enjoyer: yippee
maverick is online
maverick: now what? You’ll have to hope the sub is as entertaining
herlock solmes: :(
average nietzsche enjoyer: :(
humanallergy: hehe
maverick: seriously how did you not think of that? Also why text the group chat when we're in the same classroom?
average nietzsche enjoyer: kork started it
humanallergy: didn't feel like talking out loud plus i was already on my phone
herlock solmes: same here
maverick: I think your people aversion is getting worse
humanallergy: ┐(´ー｀)┌
average nietzsche enjoyer: (´⊙ω⊙`)！
humanallergy: (≧▽≦)
herlock solmes: yall need a private chat
herlock solmes: i dont want to see that
average nietzsche enjoyer: ( ･ั﹏･ั)
humanallergy: (☞°v°)☞🚪
herlock solmes: seriously
average nietzsche enjoyer: le door monsieur
herlock solmes: i hate yall
maverick: 👍
humanallergy: 👍
average nietzsche enjoyer: 👍
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The D class's building is the same as it was the last time he was here except there's now a pile of garbage that had fallen out of the overflowing trash can and littering the ground. At least the students use the trash can, he thinks, that's better than he can say for some main campus kids.
It's a slight challenge to keep his balance on the cobblestone path up to the doors, it’s all cracked and chipped and dyed a messy, rusty, brown in some places. The sight sends a shot of unease (distrust?) down his spine. Towards what or who, he's unsure yet.
Not breaking his stride, he reaches the door handle and the metal lays cold beneath his hand. The temperature outside being on the slightly colder side of what would be considered warm seems to have affected this building more than any other if that's possible. (It isn't really, Oma recognizes that. It's just that nearly all the other building's exterior doors have either wooden handles or a smooth coat of paint over the metal ones. The paint has been scratched off this one.)
The smaller building doesn't match the main one, it's the phrase you get at the end of the telephone game, a sad reflection you get in those distorted mirrors they have at carnivals. It looks more like a shed in comparison to the carefully crafted walls of the school. This building was built as an afterthought, a cheap imitation of the work and dedication put into the main one a century ago.
The history it holds adds to the melancholy in the air that settles into your lungs.
The lights here are different from the ones on campus, when they switched them out they must have forgotten about the ones in here, or they thought leaving the building in the past would benefit them. Whatever the reason was, he thinks the lights here are nicer than the ones around the school, that's one upside of being here. (Currently the only upside.)
He takes off his shoes to store them in the wooden cubbies, the wood is scratched in places and slightly dented from where someone must have kicked it, and switches into his indoor shoes.
The hallway to the classroom the students are in is fairly short, only a couple classes long. The hardwood flooring has some pieces that are chipping and has others with cracks between its pieces from water damage from when a pipe had burst years ago before he’d come here.
All he needs to do is follow the sounds of talking to find the class.
He stops just a bit away from the door, close enough he can hear the squeaking of chairs and far enough they can’t see his shadow. Oma’s been trying to remain calm about this, about the whole situation he’s landed himself in. He could’ve just told the principal to fuck off but the benefits outweighed the cons (and it’d be worse for him to be rude to his boss). At least that’s the conclusion he’d come to before he got to the rundown building housing the troublesome class. He’s starting to doubt his decision.
But, who would he be if he turned around and gave up? He wouldn’t be the same person who’d talked and worked his way into everything he has.
Taking a deep breath to brace himself he walks to the door and knocks to announce his arrival, habit mostly but a need for politeness is there.
The class inside hushes and he can clearly hear a feminine voice say, “Who the hell knocks?” Yonaga, he thinks he recognizes her voice, it hasn’t been that long since he’s last been here after all.
“Stuckups.” That is much more hushed, either coming from the back of the class or someone who talks quieter. Either way, it’s one of three, Akamatsu, Shinguji, or Kiibo, the door muffles it too much to tell.
Well, at least they heard it.
He swings open the door, and sighs out, “Pardon the intrusion.” All six (yes, six) of the class’s students look towards him. They all have various expressions but all have a layer of curiosity so he focuses on that.
“Oh, it’s just Oma.” Kiibo announces.
“Mornin’ Oma!” Yonaga smiles at him brightly and she waves. “Good morning.” He replies.
Yonaga’s chair is turned sideways towards Kiibo who’s resting his head in his hand, his eyes were turned to her before he’d arrived; Shinguji looks intrigued, turning away from the two mentioned to focus on him. Akamatsu looks away from the window long enough to scan him before averting her eyes. Saihara actually turns off his phone and Amami pauses his attempts to balance a pencil on his nose, it’s a miracle.
“So,” He starts with, “I assume you've all heard the news of Ms. Gotō’s sudden departure?” Sudden departure is a kind and unspecific way of saying it. Oma was not in the room when she quit but he’d heard roughly what had happened from his second conversation with the principal and from his recount he’s quite lucky he wasn't there.
That doesn't mean he didn't have to deal with her in the aftermath however.
He reaches the desk and places his school bag down next to it as he leans his body against the surface.
“Yeah, we heard she ditched.” Kiibo helpfully responds, gossip spreads fast in this school. He wasn't at all surprised when Amami had asked him about his deal with the principal so he wouldn't be shocked if everyone knew by now. (Actually, it's more so that drama spreads fast among the D class and friends of its students, not necessarily a whole school drama chain.)
“Great, that saves that explanation.” He brushes a stray lock of hair out from where it was dangerously close to poking him in the eye, “And I hope you all know how difficult it is to find a teacher at the last minute, even as only a substitute.” He really tries to hammer in the point by adding at the end, “Especially with a class as troubling as you lot.”
The majority of them manage to look at least sheepish at that.
He sighs again, he can feel their confusion even when he's not looking in their direction. “That being said,'' he's just got to get out a few more words before they can actually start the classes, “obviously you all need a teacher, this is still a school after all, so the principal has come up with a… solution to the problem.”
Solution is a loose term if you think about it. He cringes over the word and they most definitely catch it.
“Why’d you say it like that?” Akamatsu mutters under her breath, half directed to him, half directed to Saihara.
“What’s the solution?” Yonaga asks, very intrigued with the prospect of something new and possibly exciting.
“You were talking about something with the principal yesterday,” Saihara says, probably not intending to talk loud enough for everyone to hear but alas.
“You're right! Was it about this?!” Yonaga is now very excited having forgotten all about hearing of his meeting.
“It was,” Now everyone is giving him their full attention, “from this point on, until we find a substitute,
I'm your teacher.”
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It had taken a while to calm down the storm of questions. Not that that wasn't an expected outcome but it was still a hassle. Immediately after he'd told them about the new arrangement Akamatsu and Yonaga both pulled out their phones, presumably to text their friends, so he expects to get barraged by more questions on his way back to his dorm or over lunch if he decides to leave the D class building. Probably both. Fun.
He’d had to quite literally beg Ms. Gotō to give him all the stuff she's prepared for the class, her notes, lesson plans, grades this far, the whole bundle as she wanted nothing to do with any of them after everything that's happened. She was uncooperative at first but eventually gave in after he’d taken his entire afternoon convincing her. She said she doesn't know why they haven't given up on those kids yet but she’d relented despite her doubts and handed them over while wishing him luck, he'd need it.
She's talked to him in a mix of pity and sympathy, not something he's not used to hearing, in fact it's almost become an unwelcome comfort.
He didn't tell her exactly why he’d needed any of it but it was pretty obvious with their past: he was sent to help her with the unruly class, she quits out of nowhere and leaves no one to replace her, (with this school) of course the responsibility would fall to her assistant, aka Oma. He thought he'd done a pretty good job hiding how urgent it was but he supposes the context made it obvious.
Alas, he still has a class to teach so the monologue will have to wait.
“Alright,” Oma clears his throat, saying, “this paper I’m about to hand out is just to test how much you already know about the class so it’s not being graded. Despite that please try your best so I have a reference point to move forward from.” He tells them gesturing with the papers in question and there’s a collective sigh in response.
He starts handing out the papers, Amami doesn’t stop staring at him for even a second, clearly deep in thought, as he hands him the paper first. Kiibo gives him a muttered ‘thanks’ and Yonaga chirps out a loud ‘thank you’ as she takes it from him. Shinguji only gives him a nod as does Akamatsu.
Saihara is the last person to receive one, he reaches up to take the paper from his hand almost immediately after he’d reached his desk. “So, this is what your argument was about?”
Oma isn’t shocked he knows, at all. He is a little impressed he’d connected the two that fast, he didn’t think Saihara paid that much attention to the school gossip. Well, he’s never really thought about what he thinks about in their freetime, so it really just never crossed his mind.
“Disagreement.” He gives him a tight smile and he ignores the stare directed at the back of his head.
Saihara nods very slightly as he walks away and Oma ignores him, instead returning to the desk that he supposes now belongs to him and pulling out his laptop from his bag, he has a lot of papers to look over while the students work.
There’s the scratching of pencils against paper against the silence of the room, it stands out so much that the trained ear can tell which pencils are sharp and which are dull.
He has so many files to look through attached to his email from Ms. Gotō they don’t all fit on the page. She has notes on every student, little bit ‘control freak energy’ but it’s not like he can judge, he’s been told he’s a control freak before.
The notes on the students are just arrival times, who should sit near who, who shouldn't sit near who (don't put Saihara and Amami together, she writes and he’ll just have to take her word for it. He isn't going to test it, not right now.), and some random one sentence long notes about various assorted things like ‘Yonaga steals all the colored chalk’ or ‘Amami refuses to sit on chairs properly’.
He's not sure about the first one but the second is pretty accurate. He looks up from the screen to cast a glance at Amami who's sitting criss crossed on his cheap plastic chair, resting his head against one hand and tapping the page with his pencil. He looks back down to the screen.
He already knows most of the information on the personal notes so he doesn't bother actually reading through them, only skimming over before moving onto the work she’d planned to assign and the work she hadn't finished grading before she quit.
There are a lot of plans but not a lot of actual work, he finds detailed plans admittedly, but not a lot of material to work on. He’ll have to do it from scratch. See, he was hoping she was one of those teachers who reuse their stuff from the year before but it looks like she’d adapted her usual curriculum to this class and by that he means she couldn't use her usual stuff so she had to make it all new. That explains why she was so stressed and irritable towards them.
It’s like a ton of boulders were just dumped onto his shoulders.
This is a nightmare.