“Hikami sensei, are you… by any chance, related to the [Hikami Group]?”
“Hikami Group?”
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one hearing this for the first time—Shishihara tilts her head alongside me.
“It’s the conglomerate that owns this school, along with its subsidiaries. Family-run since its founding, last year’s net profit was roughly—”
She starts rattling off corporate details—business segments, M&As—like a financial news segment.
Watching Shishihara’s eyes spin, she adds, “Well, recently they’ve been leaning on foreign consultants, so it’s not exactly high schooler-friendly.”
“From what I recall, the parent company’s CEO was [Hikami Shachou].”
A rare surname for a mere coincidence. I can’t imagine some corporate dynasty princess passing out drunk in hallways, so I’d bet my entire fortune on it being just that—a coincidence.
“Ah, that’s my father.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, and the school’s chairwoman is my aunt.”
“WHAA—!?”
A two-stage shock. Honestly, the first one was more impressive.
“Well, it’s no surprise you didn’t know. The main family prefers discretion. I live alone now, but they still insist on bodyguards. Annoying, really. Luckily, there are plenty of heirs, so it’s not like I—or whoever marries me—has to take over.”
“……Should you really be telling us this?”
“Hm, good point. Let’s keep this between us, then.”
Can’t blame her family for worrying. Retrospectively, her otherworldly aura makes sense—she grew up sheltered, oblivious to malice. I just hope no greedy types try to exploit her. (My old-man worrying is a death flag.)
“I seeeeee… So that’s how it is. Fufufufu, ohohohoho!”
Saku-senpai doesn’t even try to hide her scheming grin, leaning forward like a salesman handing out business cards.
“Pardon the late introduction… We are the Literary Club (industry leader in achievements). Do you have a moment?”
Where’s the competition? I drown my despair in cloudy broth, feigning bliss.
About an hour later, evening— The room, now cleared of dishes, regains its former literary-club tidiness, though the faint aroma of dashi lingers.
“Hoh. [To be an oasis for youths wandering the desert of modernity]…”
I’d love to peek inside the brain that improvises such pretentious drivel.
“Quite noble aspirations.”
“Your praise honors us! Many resonate with it, like Maon-san here… right?”
Saku-senpai’s smooth talk is met with Shishihara’s enthusiastic “Yeah! Saved my life!”
This feels… cultish. Like a disciple turned recruiter, playing hype-man to some grandstanding guru.
From my detached notetaking corner, I can’t tell if this is a meeting or a ritual. My laptop screen, blanker than a blocked writer’s, mirrors my indifference.
To be serious, this is technically a negotiation.
After all, our club’s urgent issue—[No Advisor]—needs solving.
Too drained for embellishments, I’ll just paste the secret talk Saku-senpai and I had while washing dishes:
(Begin quote.)
“Tsubasa-kun! Divine favor is upon us!”
“……What are you on about?”
“It’s obvious—we’re getting Hikami sensei as our advisor!”
“Asking is fine, but no forcing.”
“We ARE forcing! We’ll tail her home if we have to!”
“That’s a crime. Literally.”
“She’s basically [the rich character who lends her villa for trips]—get it?”
“No.”
“Think ■■■■!’s ■■-chan, or ■■■■■!’s ■■-chan, or in the anime’s S2, ■■■—”
“Stop. We’ll get sued.”
“A perfect farce! We need funding—for lost sheep seeking salvation, backers are ESSENTIAL—”
“Cut to the chase.”
“SHE’S RELATED TO THE CHAIRWOMAN! With her, we’re set for a DECADE!”
“……Planning to flunk for ten years?”
(End quote.)
Lazy and hedonistic, she’s ruthlessly efficient at cutting corners. But since freedom of thought is a constitutional right, I won’t judge her motives.
“So, you’re in need of an advisor?”
“Yes. We were hoping for your assistance.”
“Hmm… But what exactly does this club do?”
“A counseling facility—wait, I know! To showcase our activities, how about we address YOUR concerns today?”
“My concerns?”
“Yes—daily frustrations, trivial struggles, emotional fog… Surely you have some?”
“…………Well, denying it would be a lie.”
A modern, weary sigh. Saku-senpai must’ve seen her opening.
“Speak freely. The advisor role is secondary.”
“Really? Sigh… It’s humid for April.”
Hikami sensei casually sheds her lab coat, revealing a sleeveless top. The coat had hidden her figure—now, her curves are on full display. A classic bombshell. (I silently praise Takizawa’s aesthetic sense…?)
“HEY, BOYS! NO STARING! NO LEWD GAWK—EEEE!”
Shishihara erupts like wildfire. The false accusation is unreal.
“I wasn’t staring—”
“You KNEW where without me saying—GUILTY! What, big boobs that rare!?”
“……Rare? You—”
Two-thirds here aren’t flat, though.
“I KNOW! Small-chested ‘rarity’ is a LIE!!”
“Stop reading my mind.”
Her self-destructive sobbing is almost poignant. Honestly, I haven’t looked at Hikami sensei sexually. If anything, the lab coat itself intrigues me more—now folded on her lap, an unremarkable fabric unless…
“Is that… custom-made?”
“Haaah? ‘Cuz of her chest size’—?”
Shishihara’s still on the harassment train, while Saku-senpai chimes in: “Is it bulletproof only when SHE wears it?” Both wrong.
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“The outer layer blends synthetic fibers with ceramic coating to block UV/IR. The inner uses high thermal-diffusion recycled fibers for cooling… I think?”
“What kind of spell is that?”
As Shishihara blinks dumbly, Hikami sensei murmurs:
“You’re the first to ever guess.”
Hikami sensei strokes her chin with an impressed expression. Human body temperature is heavily influenced by the skin’s exposure to external air, so a yuki-onna adjusts her heat-resistance tactics based on humidity and sunlight. Online rumors claim a single outer layer is all you need—apparently, that wasn’t misinformation.
Truthfully, gathering info on Myudents is tough for ordinary folks. While clinical trial results are accessible without stepping into a library, what I’m after is their everyday lives. Flipping that thought around, opportunities like this—raw, firsthand exposure—are rare.
“Whoa, it’s true! Inside feels like one of those cooling pads!”
Encouraged by Hikami sensei to try it on, Shishihara, now wearing the white coat, is buzzing with excitement.
“Feels like future tech… This must’ve cost a fortune, right?”
“At retail price, you could buy a premium cashmere coat. But we get government subsidies.”
“Whoaaa, even werecat doesn’t stock stuff like this… Does that mean the job’s rough?”
“Not really. Workplace benefits here are solid. At least in professional settings, everyone’s kind. But…” Her tone darkens. “Private matters—especially when emotions clash, like in romantic relationships—are a different story.”
Suddenly, Hikami sensei grins—a twisted, unsettling smile. A cold sweat breaks down my back.
“This is about the guy I broke up with just a week ago,”
The two girls nod along sympathetically—until:
“After we do it, he’d never stay over. Not once.”
A sharp crack—the air freezes.
“Even past the last train, he’d pay for a taxi to leave. Weird, right? So I asked why…” She leans in. “Guess what he said?”
“Uh, sensei? Maybe this isn’t… appropriate for an educational setting—”
I try to tactfully interject (“slow down” or “shut up” would’ve been blunt).
“WELL? GUESS WHAT HE SAID?!”
Hysteria wins.
“[I can’t sleep with you beside me.] [You’re too cold—it kills the mood.] [Feels like lying with a corpse, gross.]”
“…………”
The room plunges to absolute zero. This isn’t the saccharine drama of a high school romance—this is viscous, emotional sludge.
Shishihara stares blankly, like she accidentally walked into a movie’s explicit scene mid-viewing. For a gal (stereotypes aside), she’s oddly pure—probably zero experience with toxic relationships.
On the other hand, Saku-senpai deeply furrowed her brow with a “this troublesome talk has started” expression. But five seconds later, she thought “Wait, this could actually be an opportunity… if I take advantage of this heartbreak, maybe?” and her mind went into full gear to somehow slip into the gap in my heart. Use that brain for world peace instead.
“Wow… what a terrible guy. Ha… ha…”
I’m the only sane one here. My deadpan response is at least an attempt to defuse things.
“…Do you really think that?”
Hikami sensei pins me with a glare sharp enough to flay lies bare.
“Do you truly, deep down, believe he was awful… Komori?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“Then you’d have no problem cuddling me all night, right? We could start tonight.”
“…………I’m kinda tired today.”
“See? All talk. That’s what hurts—my wounds just got deeper!”
Watching a sober adult throw a drunken-tier tantrum, I’m at a loss.
Whining to a high schooler and even looking for comfort—aren’t you ashamed of yourself, not just as a teacher but as a person? That’s exactly the kind of thing that got you dumped. Your booze-soaked, self-destructive lifestyle didn’t help either. If being alone is so hard, go back to your parents’ house. You’re some rich family’s pampered princess, aren’t you──
I’d have verbally eviscerated her in 0.2 seconds, but—
“EVERYONE, I’VE GOT IT!”
Saku-senpai’s brain cells (shockingly functional) reach a conclusion.
“Hikami sensei, you’ve done nothing wrong… because you’ve done nothing wrong!”
Saku-senpai affirms a hopeless person with a kind of tautology that seems like it could erase everything. Her capacity is so vast, she looks like she could swallow not just good and evil, but even vomit and diarrhea—like one of the Three Great Nobles of the Meiji Restoration.
“R-really?”
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