Chapter Text
Hopefully, 6 tables will be enough for everyone.
Yashiro Nene reaches back to adjust her braid. Loose pieces fall around her face, ivy, a jungle of a mess. The silver-blue strands are tied away in a ribbon. She had picked it out herself, of course. Carefully paced before her open closet, contemplating her options.
Twisted her fingers around strings till they weaved themselves into the one. Green, she thinks, is like life and summer. Easing color back into your skin. Rings glinting like sunshine on her fingers.
She quickly reasoned that this ribbon was undoubtedly best-fit. It loops around her, a stem. And she is pretty as can be. Yashiro Nene must make a good first impression. She is only twenty-eight. Despite her addiction to skincare products and constant sunscreen- seven in the morning, her reflection screams retirement. There is little more that she can do.
She's always been- and this is Aoi's way of saying it, always a little love in her voice- a bit ditzy. Half her head on earth and the other who-knows-where. A woman who spends more time thinking about her world than being part-of-it.
So she rises early with the sun and gets to work.
Skirt and ribbons and the stretch of her hair. There’s a love inside her that yearns to be shared- one that brought her here. This began on the playground and twisted around her heels like foliage. And now it only whispers to her, stings her heels when it fails. Leaves her be when the sun is gone again in the torturous way it does.
She swore, years ago, that she would not complain again. Not to her mother, whose phone rings with her voice every morning, or to her father, or Aoi. She wasn’t a little girl who threw her emotions at the world. She was a little more careful- knew the embarrassment. To yearn so desperately for affection.
Without love she tends to stumble in her own stretch. Wither into a flower who questions why she’s not thrown to the wind. But today, she is adamant to forget.
She turns from the back of the greenhouse and trails to the front, again. Patches of stray grass kiss her feet. A warm welcome
.
She makes a soft noise of self-satisfaction. Taps the clock she keeps on her table. The picture of tidiness. The scent of her perfume washes over the air in a sweetened mist. It’s almost time for class, and Yashiro Nene can hardly stop herself from bouncing on her toes.
She had run to the room as soon as the morning would let her. The greenhouse was a dream. Flowers lining the doorframe. Glass a pretty sort of green, and it sparkled in the sunlight with her joy. And her favorite thing; how it shone through, just so. How even outside, the outline of a person could pirouette in a haze of uncertain light.
She had seen it, then. And fantasies sparkled in her mind. Faces swirl around her, blurry before resting again, the water droplets bursting on her window. It is often like this. One second a dream. The next, she is real again.
Even then- the moment she had read her letter of acceptance to the position. Her squeal of excitement, joyous hums. Her place was here. It was nice that someone else agreed. She loved it in moments; even hidden away in the nooks and crannies of the school garden. Tied to the schoolgrounds with the neatness of a ribbon.
It was something out of a storybook. As if the whole world were saving it just for her. So she wakes up early, today, to come home to it. To build a garden that the world will fall in love with; the way she fell for it. She owed it that. So it’s hers, and she’ll be proud of it.
She checks the journal on her desk- pen in hand. Of course, she’s double-triple checked it already. And strawberry stickers sprinkle checked boxes. Pretty, perfect. All planned out. How her students will come and go full of dreams. (And a couple scribbled-out notes of grateful speeches- she realized too corny, too dramatic. The way she was).
“Don’t have crazy expectations,” Her mother had told her, only days before. Voice always just a little worn- a warm quilt of sincerity. Nene remembered when she was young- sitting on the floor beside her. Always balking at the way her mother swerved into her plans. But nowadays, in darkened rooms, she’s grateful. She holds the phone against her ear.
“I know you,” Her mother had told her. “ You’re always in your head, like that. I don’t want you to be disappointed. Remember; be realistic.”
“I will!” Nene had told her, voice half-muffled. Always a terrible connection. “I know what I’m getting myself into.”
(And of course, this was another lie. But she couldn’t help herself).
She knew- she dreamed of- the handsome teacher strolling by. His suit, carefully ironed- the way he gapes when she passes, pauses just to see her, sweeps her into his arms. He tells her she is pretty. He sings of the ribbons in her hair, the way she smiles, the lovely rose of her cheeks- and then she is on earth again.
The greenhouse is quiet. A giggle runs up and down her back- and she nearly smacks herself. Her mother’s scolding in her ears; guilt in her form, which shrinks a little in place. But her mother isn’t here.
So this will happen, of course, just as she is dancing alone. The greenhouse light will illuminate her silhouette. Her full skirt painting silk circles against her heels. Think fo the rumors; students talking in hushed voices of the princess of the garden.
She leans down, now, and inspects the side of one of the desks. Unsteady on one leg, missing some of itself, as if gnawed by an animal. She makes a gentle noise, tugging on its side. It rocks, back and forth, a cradle. This, she concludes, is something that tables are not supposed to do.
Well… nothing was perfect. But Miss Nene is anything but a quitter. She will work with what she has.
Gardening had begun as a hobby- which had flowered into a passion, grown into a love. It surprised her as much as anyone. But there was a joy in watching your work bud and bloom. Nene believed that. Proven by the rows of plants that now spotted the flimsy tables.
They are accompanied by 4 chairs each. No more, no less. Lined up to watch the blackboard (which howled like a wolf when she dragged it to the front. She had succeeded at last after a terrible battle where she felt it pushed her more than she pushed it).
Neat, she thinks, neat and pretty. Or... close enough.
Gardening wasn’t always that way. But it is good to start with expectations before the dirt pours over.
The chalkboard, she notices, as she paces back and forth, has some sort of stain on the right side. Where it’s from, who knows. She leans forward. After half a minute of frenzied scrubbing, it holds firm still. As if to taunt her. She only huffs.
How do you stain a chalkboard? How do you bite out of a table?
She eyes the hole in the leg again. Kicks it, just once. A pause before she looks both ways, scolding herself. It’s only been two hours- she’s already breaking things. She’ll get fired before she learns her first student’s name.
She checks her watch for the third time this minute. Hours trail by, the path of a snail. And she is left to watch them go.
Yashiro Nene, she thinks to herself, you are all about dreams! Wonderful, blossoming dreams! So, the tables seem a little… rugged. All the best tables are!
She shakes herself, determined. Places both gloved hands firmly on her hips. Miss Yashiro Nene. It’s her first day as Kamome Gakuen’s horticulture teacher! She can’t give up, before she’s even started.
First days are love- beginning. She will stumble a bit in the hall. Find a handsome man returning her books to her arms. Or catch the gaze of a princess from across the lounge room. Whatever she grows to be- it will be beautiful, she reassures herself. Beautiful like the radish roots they will pull at the end of the spring. A lover who catches sight of her through the tinted glass.
And nothing- and nobody- is ever going to ruin her lovely first day! Sure as a tree, steady as its roots. And the pull of a nervous question that erupts into the open room like a sprout.
“Uhm,” A girl’s voice stutters. The sight of soft green eyes in Nene’s peripheral vision. They are pretty velvet. A warm welcome. “Hello? Are you Miss Yashiro?”
There is a new wind from the whip of Nene’s skirt when she twirls around. All ten students jump, like she might strike them. But she only gazes at them. She is a rabbit caught in the streetlight. “Yes!-” She says, too quickly- then slows, punctuating her words with a smile that wants to spread all the way down to her toes.
“That’s me,” She tells them, pleased with the sound of her name. “Miss Yashiro! Are you here for horticulture?”
“We are.” The girl in the front seems to be the brave one. Her hair is chopped into a bob that curls around her blushy cheeks. Nene beams. They do not miss the way she straightens, or the grin that takes her like she’s a child again, swinging off a ledge. A few exchange nervous glances.
“I’m so happy to have you! Please, come and take a seat. Anywhere you’d like.”
In moments they have taken their seats, and it begins. Three students trail in after the ten- though she’s an elective, it’s smaller than she would’ve thought.
“Well!” Nene clasps her hands together- straightening again, It is a strange thing to face them now, though she’s imagined this many times before. Bright young faces observing her like she is a bird stuck in a cage. Her voice is a little timid when she nods. “I’ll be your teacher this year. Does anyone have any questions?”
A stillness follows, students peeking at one another, soft murmurs. Nene twitches. “Um… so we can get to know each other better? Ask anything you'd like!”
It falls over them again- ever-awkward- like a blanket. For an instant, she wonders if she’ll have to trudge through it. But the girl with the bob raises her hand, and Nene lights up again. “Yes?”
“Is that a ribbon in your hair? Or is it grass?”
Nene dwindles in her joy. “It’s a ribbon. I picked it myself.” Her pale fingers, weaving their way back into her hair like a shield. “Do you like it?”
"Yes,” The girl says. Nene thaws again.
“Thank you very-”
“You kind of look like if a carrot was a person,” A boy in the back row says. He smiles at her, then, despite the way her mouth falls open. Almost kindly- in the way a doctor would inform you a loved one had passed. It takes Nene a moment to process his words, but another girl beside him speaks first. She’s pointing a finger at Nene. Doesn’t bother to raise her hand, elbows shoved onto her desk.
“Your legs…” The girl’s eyes are wide. “They’re so… short!”
Nene gapes. “I’m sorry?”
“I agree,” The carrot boy confirms. “No offense.”
Every student begins to speak at once. A voice chimes from somewhere. But she can’t pinpoint it among the chatter- the clatter of flowerpots and shovels. “Riku! You can’t say that!”
Nene can’t help but hang her head, a little miffed. She resists a strong urge to take the nearest flower-pot and pour it over the head of the nearest child. It seems in moments, everyone moved on but her. “They’re a perfectly normal length.”
“Hey, are you really old? Or just a teacher?” Another boy wonders.
“Why’s there a hole in my table!?”
Voices blend together in an echochamber of sound, never ending. Yashiro can hardly keep track of it all.
The creak of a moving desk, the drag of a shovel against the floor. Dirt goes flying through the air like it’s raining from the heavens. Her class has become a whirlwind of movement and voices and turmoil and she doesn’t know even what goes where.
And it all culminates in that tremendous thud.
The creak of the desk- already unsteady on one side, but damned all at once. The boy looks as startled as Nene as the leg gives out, and wood collapses into itself until all that’s left is a disarray of nails and kindling, the remains of a crushed flower pot.
And all at once, the stillness returns again. The boy in uniform backs away. Like he’s cornered- looks nervously up at Nene. Her hand has flown to her mouth without her notice. But seeing him- terrified of punishment, she only shakes her head and sighs. It reaches all the way into her throat and pulls out air.
“Just… move your chair over to the table to your left, please. And… quiet down.”
She turns away. Maybe to pretend she isn’t fighting tears. “Everyone, quiet down, please.”
Soon, Nene’s class is over. And everything’s a mess.
So, maybe the tables are now halfway across the room. It was remarkable it was managed. And perhaps half the flower pots painted the floor, mangled leaves passed through, like a tornado’s aftermath. Yashiro Nene pulls on her braid. Uncertain ruby eyes watch her in her reflection.
She tugs on her green ribbon and wonders if she is, in fact, carrot-like. Bitterly thinks a carrot should bury herself alive. Where she belongs. Perhaps the students would like her a little better that way. She grabs a broom.
Hopefully… 5 tables would be enough for everyone.
-
Students love Mr Yugi. This was just the way things went. Children are simple that way. When you are against a man who drinks out of measuring cups and knows how to work a telescope, there isn’t much you can do. His room is always decked out in stars. Some scribbled by him, some drawn by students and hung like portraits of honor. Gifts for a beloved teacher.
Of course, Amane delighted in this. But he’s a charming person- the type to wriggle his way into a job. Charm Tsuchigomori enough to put a good word in.
A person who really should have been scolded by the higher-ups a long time ago. A man who’s broken more rules than years he’s been. Girls and boys and teachers all perk up when they spot him- wherever he goes, a little mischief always follows. That’s something they can’t help but miss.
He tends to ignore the students who question why there’s never been a Mrs-... something he just doesn’t have time for. Or, though he won’t admit it, he tends to be too strange in the eyes of most women. The last - totally unimpressed by his origami skills- left before the date was over.
And there’s also that… he’s never enjoyed anyone’s presence too much. Not like the stories say. Sure, there was some joy in other people… but there were never fireworks, or butterflies. Or true love. His brother would joke all his love blasted off to space before he could catch it. Spread all out there among the stars. He always laughed- told his students the same- but it always tugged at him wrong. Love wasn’t tangible- something all-made-up- unrealistic.
Falling in love was like going to the moon. Impossible, till someone else found their way through it. Something that made him stay right where he was. He has figured for a long time that you can never change some things- things that aren’t meant to be, won’t be at all.
His students were enough. After it was all over- to inspire another person, the way Tsuchigomori had for him- that was all he could ask for.
“You can imagine escape velocity by imagining a giant monster. And let’s say, he’s been imprisoned for his acts of destruction on our Earth,” He says merrily.
Students sit in their seats, enraptured. One boy cranes his head over his desk like he’s a bird of carnivorous descent. Mr Yugi has already illustrated this monster on the board. Its enormous teeth, though, make it more like a delightful creature than a terrifying monster.
“This monster,” Amane continues. “Lives on a separate celestial body. So he needs to escape our primary body-” He draws an enormous circle around the monster, who is encased in single-line-prison bars. “-and return to his home.”
“Can it be an evil planet?” The boy craning his neck doesn’t raise his hand before he speaks. Mr Yugi beams, adjusting his tie. It leaves a faint huff of chalk on his shirt. “Of course. What else would it be?”
“Awesome,” The boy breathes in awe. He sits back down, fully.
Amane paces back and forth before the white board, pleased. “Escape velocity, or escape speed- it’s the minimum speed needed for an object to escape from our orbit, free from gravity. Which can be very difficult considering the forces at play. It’s important for rockets, and monsters. So, what can we-”
A gentle knock on the door interrupts his lesson. The next door teacher, mathematics, Amane notes- though he can never quite remember her name- peers in. Her hair is windblown - a total mess.
“Excuse me, Mr Yugi.” Her gentle voice. “ Do you have extra paper? The new horticulture teacher… something about… “ Her voice drops to a mutter, barely eligible. “-‘stolen by a very rude mole’...? I don’t know. But if you have extra-”
“New horticulture teacher?” He repeats, puzzled. Then lets it go with a shake of his head.
“Of course- take the stack on my desk.” He swivels to face the class, warmth in his heart from the eager students that still face him. It’s nice to have people look up to you- to be someone they aspire to be. “There’s a horticulture class, now? I knew we were expanding, but-”
“I’ve been to that lady’s class,” A boy in the front row- Riku- says, flatly. “She’s weird.” He leans forward. Cupping his face in a hand, he whispers. He drops low to the surface of his desk as if to tell a secret. “I heard she chews on the tables when we aren’t there. “ At that, Amane’s brow furrows. “Chews on-”
“Today, one fell over…” Riku takes a pause. The whole class waits in suspense. “-and killed somebody. And now… the greenhouse is haunted-”
“Now, I know that isn’t true.” Amane’s voice is gentle despite his scolding. “Rumors are fun, I understand. I’ve been young, all of you, but when you say things like this it can do damage to-”
The girl beside Riku- Saki- interrupts. “Well, she knocked over something!”
And thus, the room erupts into voices before he can calm them. Wild accusations- the sound of a girl sneezing- and at last he sweeps his hands into a silencing gesture. The room falls quiet- eyes fixed on him like he might explode at any moment. The whole school seems eager to please.
“Now, now.” He starts. “I know sometimes there’s a bad first impression…” He lowers his voice, pushing a hand against his cheek himself. “I’ll admit there’s colleagues even I’m not fond of. But you can’t just-”
A girl Amane doesn't recognize whips the door open. Her arms waving- a flash of panic. Her school uniform is coated in something that looks like- fur?
"Mr Yugi!" Her voice- a blink of relief, then terror again.
“There's someone on the roof!? I Don't want anyone to get into trouble-" She sucks in a deep breath. One that, Amane assumes, can only be achieved by running up several flights of stairs.
He can't help but feel some of the panic weave its way into him. His first instinct- let her breathe. "I thought you'd maybe help!? Please? The new teacher's up there1 She's trying to get it and-"
"What!?" More than one voice erupts- silenced again by a gesture. Amane takes a deep breath.
“Class… “ He starts, one hand already on the doorframe. “...Stay in your seats. Try not to make too much noise.”
-
Yashiro Nene has fallen off the roof.
An hour ago, there was a simple explanation for this. When that girl had come running into the greenhouse, teary-eyed and desperate, Nene simply couldn’t send her away. One thing lead to another. That’s what, she decided, she would tell the Principal.
And so… in the blink of an eye, Yashiro Nene was leaning against the roof tile for dear life. Once you thought about it, it was really quite heroic.
Though she couldn’t help but feel stupid, clinging to the pipe like an animal. “This sure is a roof!” She attempts. The girl below only stares.
Her uniform was arranged quite neatly. Nene unable to help a hint of jealousy- as she was never cool in school. But this girl’s terror seemed far greater than hers, she thought, which helped to ease her pride.
(Though- watching Nene haphazardly dangle off the water spout to make her way to the top had certainly not been helpful. She was about as elegant, really, as a blind spider).
“Please, be careful!” The girl’s voice trembles on its hinges. “Not just you- my poor baby- he’s terrified. Oh no!” She pauses for a beat, then repeats herself. “Oh no!”
Nene can’t help but feel that this is awfully dramatic.
The cat - a ball of orange fluff- licks his paw. Nene blinks at him, almost insulted. This cat knows nothing of her effort- of the way she clung to the water spout- or doesn’t care. Either way, he seems quite alright.
She considers telling the girl- opens her mouth. “Oh no!” The girl’s miserable cry sounds from below. Nene lets out a deep sigh. “I’m getting him. Trust me! There’s no way I’d fall off, or anything…” Her voice falls, a low grumble. “It’s scraping up my hands…”
It just so happened that she would begin shuffling forward like that- jump at the noise of the slamming door- and lose her balance just as that man stepped out below.
Falling is one thing, Nene decides. And it’s embarrassing enough. Falling on top of someone else is another.
If it had been up to her, this could’ve been a graceful thing. If only he had swiftly caught her in his arms- pulled her close- watched the colors fight in her eyes.
In his arms, gentle, but tough- hands calloused and rough yet ever-so-soft. A prince, of course, on vacation to school. (Nene fails to find a good reason as to why this would be- but never thinks enough of it).
And he will lean close. Stop, just before their noses touch, just as their lips could join together in an act of passion. He is so close she can smell the sweat on his torso. “Nene,” he would say. “Are you okay? Are you safe?”
But this does not happen. Because the world hates Yashiro Nene, and as she comes tumbling down with a tremendous thud all the man manages is, “ow.”
Under normal circumstances, she would’ve thought to apologize. But adrenaline scrolls through her like lines on a contract and she pulls herself off him in a blink. He’s a little scrawny, tall, dressed in a lab coat. A little handsome- no time for that. A split second and Nene prays he is not anyone too important. “The cat-“ Nene is breathless. “-is he alright?”
The man presses a hand to the side of his head- then pulls away - as if to check for blood. Now inside his skull there has manifested a terrible throbbing.
One second he was standing under the roof and the next he’s knocked to the floor. Sprawled out, Yashiro thinks, like a weed. He almost groans. “The… what?”
“… Ah! What am I thinking? I’m so sorry!”
That woman’s hand is on his hip. She pulls him in, quick as a shooting star. He’s almost surprised by her strength. Can’t think about it as her warm hand pushes away the thread of his hair and comes to rest against his skin.
Amane is used to unexpected things. His brother’s tricks- sneaking beds into lakes or keys into wrapped boxes. But they never make him forget what it’s like to breathe.
“You aren’t bleeding. Thank goodness. That cat…”
His whole cheek has turned warm in her hand. And he is sure she can see it- but her eyes are turned towards the sky. Worry is in her voice, teardrops. He had almost forgotten the student standing only steps away. “I’m sorry-“ The woman says. “I’ll get him- I promise I will!”
Her eyes return to Amane’s. A cute sort of ruby that makes his heart do a somersault. And she has really pretty hands. Is it weird, he thinks, to think someone has pretty hands? He might be dying.
“I’m really sorry,” She emphasizes, and something in him wants to beg her not to yank her hand away the way she starts to. And so he places his own on top of hers. The stupidest choice he could’ve made- but reasonable among the blood hurling itself against the walls of his head.
And as Nene’s heart starts to pound he says, “You fall like a fish.”
She blinks- yanking away fully to brush her hand on her skirt. “What?”
The man seems to be regaining his senses. He blinks a little- shakes the sunlight from his eyes. His voice, like he’s on the verge of a laugh. “You were just throwing your arms and legs all over.” He imitates this. Yashiro’s expression twists into a mortified glare. “Like a fish out of water.”
She stares at him. He shrugs, offering a soft smile. “It was kinda funny.”
“Rude!” She exclaims loudly enough that he jumps.
‘Just disrespectful,” Her voice is half annoyance and half humiliation. “-and rude! Can’t you see I’m trying to do something chivalrous right now! I risk my life going to save this sweet girl’s cat and you-”
Amane makes a face. “It’s really not that high-”
“-just bad-mannered! I fell, thanks to you, and-”
“I just opened the door, you were the one that f-”
The student stands all through their argument. Nene feels another twinge of embarrassment coming on- not only to be distracted from the task- but to argue with another teacher. And to think she almost thought he was handsome before that… that… insulting speech!
In all honesty, he’s not quite there. Amane is only processing small words of this. “I would’ve totally got the cat! I was completely stable! I had - I was-.. No way to treat a lady and… just awful! I can’t believe…” There’s a flush in her cheeks that wasn’t there before that reflects a cute-pink in the light.
Nene has never been so angry in her life- at least at someone she barely knows.
She will never submit to the reasonable part of her. The part of her that is saying that it really was her fault. That it’s quite stupid to climb up a roof to get a cat that’s not allowed. What sort of teacher falls right onto their co-worker before they can teach three classes?
With every word Nene speaks, this man doesn’t seem guilty at all. In fact, he seems to be delighting in the way her palms tighten into fists. The accusatory finger she pokes into his chest, still half-pushed over him. His smile seems to only brighten as she continues. She had thought, in the destroyed remains of her classroom, that it couldn’t possibly get worse.
And then Mr Door over here had to embarrass her all over again.
“Hey, look.” Something in the calm of his voice catches her off-guard. Wind catching in a pinwheel. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll help you get the cat, and I won’t tell anyone about… your little roof-accident. “ He taps a finger against the side of his temple.
“Something like this could get you fired. I mean….” He clicks his tongue, trailing off. “Potentially damaging a building… not reporting an animal on the school grounds… and when you’re new, that’s…”
Nene wilts a little- relief. Something about the grateful way she takes his hands in hers makes him blink. Happiness washes over her in waves- something that, oddly, makes him want to smile, despite the sun beating down on them like an unpleasant hammer.
“You’ll do that?” She pleads.
“Really?”
“Yes.” His response is automatic- but his eyes sparkle a little. Nene doesn’t like the look of it. The same look that cat gave her before as he eased his way up higher.
“But it’s a two-way deal. My class-” He interrupts himself by jerking his head, towards the school. “Is all the way up- a staircase down from the roof, you see. Everyday, I walk all the way up.”
Nene turns her head up- the building’s countless windows glint in the light. This smaller section, connected to the larger one. She pictures it- staircase upon staircase- and is suddenly very grateful for her greenhouse. She is someone who can’t help sympathy. “That sounds terrible.”
“Sure is,” He agrees. “They keep so many materials on the bottom floor- and it’s such a hassle, running up and down. It could really help if I had an assistant.”
“Assistant,” She repeats, baffled.
“Yes. Someone who’ll grab them for me and meet me halfway.” He’s got his eyes on the sky. He pretends to count on each of his fingers. “Imagine it. How much time I’d save running all over. And hey, I’ll keep my mouth shut if you just-”
“Fine.”
They blink at each other. The side of Amane’s mouth quirks. “I wasn’t expecting such little resistance.”
Nene bristles, nearly rolling her eyes. Today has been a mess of carrots and insults and falling. Oddly enough, this didn't bother her nearly as much as the morning did.
There's something here that isn't quite dislike. A pull- sunflower reaching for the light. In another place and time she wonders if she would have felt so angry with him.
Like a secret- she wonders if they can get along. Nene and the man with the playful eyes and the silly offer. At least, Nene thinks, she'll get some steps in.
And in her heart, she thinks it might be nice to have a friend. In the same moment she thinks this, she tucks it away.
“Um,” The girl’s voice shakes them both from the fantasy. “Is that really necessary?”
”Stay out of this,” Amane says at the same time Nene sighs, “It’s grown up stuff.”
And with that they scramble over each other to stand up.
He’s taller than Nene expects him to be- though, even sitting, he seemed he would be. She shakes this off, correcting herself. The image of him flailing his arms again. He’s too rude for her to admire him! Not at all!
A long silence. The man stares at the cat, who licks himself again. It strikes Nene suddenly that she still hasn’t asked his name. But he turns to her, then.
“I’m going to throw you up there. “ He says simply, his eyes holding hers. “I’ll lift you by the legs and then you grab that cat, lean down, and hand him to us. It’s simple!”
It takes her a second to find herself in his eyes. Feel her feet in the ground and the panic that suddenly spills all through her from head-to-toe. There is absolutely no way that someone will throw her through the air. After all, she’s a lady- not a bird- and she opens her mouth to tell him so. But with a glance at the girl she changes her mind.
“Oh no!” The student groans.
Nene can’t help but feel this reaction is terribly dramatic.
Hardly twenty seconds later and Yashiro Nene has kicked him in the head three times. Amane’s eyes are squeezed shut, his arms firm on either of her ankles. It was impressive he could get her up there so fast. Though, this was a little thanks to Nene’s ability to clamber up high. Things like… water spouts.
“Your skirt keeps brushing on my head.”
“Quiet! I’m focusing!”
She can’t see him rolling his eyes.
A faint rumble, a purr. The cat watches, blinking slowly. Nene sways in the subtle breeze. Her hands cling loosely to the tile. “Here, kitty. Come here, kitty.” Her voice is wracked with her nerves.
“Hey,” The other teacher’s voice is blurry in the wind. “What’s your name? You’re the horticulture teacher, aren’t you?”
The cat slowly makes his way across the tile- the opposite side of the roof. A tree hangs, maybe two feet away. Yashiro almost lurches for him- a flash of terror- the image of the poor thing sky-high.
But instead, the creature only breathes an easy meow. He leaps from the roof, grating his claws against the bark of the tree.
Eases himself downwards, easy as that. A ball of fur- waltzing his way over to the girl, where he rubs himself innocently against her legs. She gasps in delight. “Oh, oh! You saved him! Thank you, Miss Yashiro! You’re my hero!”
The frustration in her throat dies in the eyes of the girl below her. Shining and comforting- hands smeared with dirt and firm around the fluffy body of her animal. She waves with one hand- beaming. “I’m going back to class! Thank you!”
“It was nothing,” She croaks, though she has never enjoyed something less. She’s a little grateful when the silhouette of the girl disappears through the building’s door. Nene makes a faint noise of alarm as Amane lets go of her legs and pulls her to the ground. A brief flash of his hands on her waist before she’s back on the grass, straightening herself.
Something in her wants to cry, then. First day and she’s ruined everything. Made a fool of herself- a stupid, clumsy dork. But yes, she saved a stupid cat. Which was just great, because the cat was a liar. Yashiro Nene never knew that cats could be liars. That stupid cat who could get down himself and-
The man holds a hand out in front of her. To shake. “Amane Yugi,” He says. “I’m a science teacher.” He smiles like he might laugh. “I’m impressed. Not a lot of teachers get so much done.”
Her first instinct is to defend herself. She shouldn’t care, won’t care about what Mr Yugi thinks. Reminds herself of her best friends words of truth. That other people don’t define her, she shouldn’t worry, that… but… there’s something sincere about his extended hand. A sort of fondness in his tone that stops her right there. He seems almost… amused.
“Yashiro Nene,” She says, taking his hand. “Horticulture, yes. I’m in the garden.”
There’s a pause. Amane grins. “So- what are you doing rescuing cats instead of preparing materials?”
They both can’t help but laugh at that. Something that frolics in the grass. “Thank you for helping me,” She says. “Thank you very much. “
There’s a warmth in his eyes. It catches her off guard- spreads all up into her chest like a summer vine. “Anytime.”
The quiet that follows almost bothers her. She hates the twinge of emotion that follows. It always does- an eagerness to please, to be liked. But equally strange is the feeling that… he doesn’t seem to dislike her at all.
He glances at her every few moments as they walk. And it takes her a minute to realize he is very much going the wrong way.
“... Your class is on the roof? Why?”
Amane shrugs, turning just-so she cant see his face. He looks back up at the building- the part that connects to the tallest point. “Well- not quite. A floor below. Astronomy. We have a telescope on the roof. Sometimes I have night classes. “ He pauses.
“I love astronomy.”
He doesn’t have to say it.
She hears it in his voice when he says the word. Like love is spilling out of it. She smiles a little when she recognize it- the same way she says flowers, roots, vines. Melting in adoration.
“Sometimes I go there on my own,” He confesses. “At night. Just to see them.”
She pictures him- eyes craning over the telescope, transfixed by a sparkling sky. The thought is oddly charming to her. Her voice comes out gentle, even fond.
I guess when I look up there, I’ll think of you!”
She almost scolds herself as she says it. That’s something that, she thinks, has people think you’re strange. Turn away from you- leave you behind.
But there is a flush that spreads into his face, and he turns away quickly- as if the red doesn’t show in his ears. Nene scolds herself as her heart beats a little faster for it.
She feels her own face, her cheeks hot. She assures herself she wouldn’t be embarrassed if he wasn’t. She’s gone and said something weird again. That’s all it is.
“It’s a shame our classes aren’t closer,” is all he says. “I’ll just walk you back. Make sure you get back alright.”
She’s too shy to answer, now. But she doesn’t protest. She considers, briefly, telling him about the mole that stole her papers. Decides against it, just as quickly. And he interrupts the quiet again as she leads the way through the grass.
“Your legs,” He says earnestly. “They’re really- I’ve never seen anybody with such-”
“Don’t.” Nene’s voice is firm, gaze steadily holding his. Not harsh- just tired. Like a soldier coming home from a years-long battle. “Don’t even start.”
There’s quiet the rest of the way. And at last it appears - the sparkling green glass, the vines curling around the doorframe. As she pushes her way through, Amane follows- jaw halfway to the floor. She sniffs, surveying the ground- still a little messy, still splattered with splintered wood.
“They assigned it to me.” Her voice is almost apologetic. “For my class so- it’s not inside like the rest of them, but-“
“It fits you.”
She turns to find him gazing at the flowers crawling up the outside wall. Searches his expression for what she expects it to be. An insult, some form of teasing- but his voice is genuine. It’s the shimmer of the colors against the wall. Something about it is making her dizzy. He adds, “It’s nice.”
His eyes fall back to the floor- find the table now half-collapsed on the floor. He gives it a kick. Nene feels a twinge of pride at this. The best way to check a table, of course.
“You chew on this, or something?”
She gives him an unamused glare. He only laughs- she only smiles. Like kids arguing at a party. “It broke,” she huffs. “I’m short a table. Kids were messing around…”
Some part of her is sad when he checks his watch. She fights it.
“My next class starts soon. I’ll call your school phone when I need you.” He gestures to the black phone settled on her desk. The thing looks older than the ground they walk on. For a moment she wonders if it’ll work. It offers a weak beep, a flash of red light.
“Tell you when I need something. I’m going to be counting on you, so don’t run off.”
“I’m not a slacker.” Her voice stiff, then gentle. “Like I said- I’ll meet you halfway.”
He smiles at her then. The greenhouse is a little dim as the clouds hide behind the sun. He stays like that- for a little too long. But Yashiro Nene could’ve imagined it.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
-
Mr Yugi has been acting weird since this afternoon.
They testify this among each other. Questions- confirmations, and the groan of old metal chairs. Sure, he’s the more cheerful of the teachers, but even for him this is unusual. But there’s no word as to why. He’s humming to himself. Dancing around the board. Scribbles hearts around the dinosaur on the whiteboard.
Maybe he’s just in a mood. You never know.
At the end of the day he’s still humming- though, some boy said he saw him with a toolbox. Some old tape he must’ve found in the materials room. He was talking to himself, humming cheerfully. But nobody knows why- and they like him too much to reason through it- so that’s the end of that.
-
Yashiro Nene arrives at the greenhouse, and for the first time in a long time, she is prepared to be disappointed.
The morning began with a nervous peer over her phone. Her fingers tripped over it- lousy thumbs scrambled to the code. She was sure it was coming. She waited for the photo of her falling from the sky. A scolding from the principal- a blackmail threat from the girl with the orange cat.
Even a letter of polite dismissal. Someone happy to have her and happy to see her go. There is a guilt she carries in her chest, one that can’t even blame them. Because she wondered from the moment she stepped foot inside if she were cut out for all this.
And so came the click of her finger. The anticipation curling into a claw that dug into her back. And there was nothing. She wants to laugh, cry, but isn’t sure which is worse. And neither would change a thing.
So Nene packs her things, picks out another ribbon, and she walks to school. The sky is overcast. Streets pass by, turn into a school gate, and she is standing before the greenhouse again.
She is almost terrified to open that door.
Part of her wonders why she signed herself up for this. She’s a fool again, dreaming things that could never be. Humiliating herself in front of kids who think her legs look like radishes. Playground teasing come back to taunt her. As if to say, I am here, and I am the same Nene I’ve always been- knocking things over. Tripping on air.
First day, she falls off a roof, breaks a table, waits for students to call her names. They couldn’t even be nice enough to give her six working tables. Go on, the world taunts. It is the start and you are doomed already.
And so, for a moment, she hesitates. It is a very un-Yashiro-Nene-like thing. The image of her hand frozen on the front of the greenhouse. Unwavering confidence a lie all along.
“What do I do when things get rough?” Her whisper reaches into quiet air. Her eyes squeezed shut- all nervous again- but determined all the same. “I keep on trying.”
The way she has to. That’s the sort of person she is. She opens the door. For a moment, again, there is no sound. Before she blinks in disbelief- feeling an awful lot like a bug missing her rock.
There are six tables lined up in her classroom. They’ve been sorted, once again, into a neat row. The missing leg of the sixth returned to its place - as if it were never broken at all.
As she nears it she realizes it isn’t so perfect. It is a little uneven and a nail sticks out just-so but not enough to snag. It is tightened by sturdy clear tape that hugs it to the rest of it. When she’s close enough she sees it- the way it leans a little too much to the left- but she’s smiling too hard to care.
A square of tape connects a tiny piece of paper to the table. It is patterned- drawn on. She notices this, even before she reads the words. And it makes her a little dizzy. An astronaut - who gives her a little thumbs up. A star, scrawled haphazardly- as if done in a nervous hurry. It’s something she likes very much.
It’s ridiculous- it’s unprofessional- and she is so utterly giddy. Something is so charming- the scribbled out words, the smear of the pen. Like something out of a dream.
She’s used to these dreams- lingering in them, watching the days trail by without any of them coming true. She was fine with it. So what a surprise to wake up and still be inside one.
She can’t help but giggle, gently at first- but she erupts into laughter. The whole time she is hugging it closer. Pressing it into her heart like it might become a part of it. And she is so, so warm, like she’s plucked a star from the sky. And everything is perfect.
Thank you for everything, Hope this helps.
Miss Yashiro Nene has a cute greenhouse, hidden in the school garden. Flowers twist around the square entrance to hide away. Mischievous weeds sneak their way beneath the door to find her there. In the morning, she spins under the roof. If you squint just so, you can see the shadow of her. Her skirt twists around her, whipping up leaves like a summer storm.
She has six tables, all facing the front. And she had a lovely first day.