Greetings fellow reader, MasterW here!
I present to you a story I've been planning for a long time
Without any further to do, enjoy!
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(?'s POV)
You know, one would think having lived a long amount of years by herself, she would already be accustomed to spending her time alone.
Her youth was spent on her lonesome, fearing rejection from the peers.
During her university days she used to be in charge of starting the fire for campfires when out with her friends.
While she was busy starting the fire, the couples in her group started to do their lovey-dovey stuff that would irritate her
She was already upset about being single, and they had to rub it on her face.
It was her own "miscalculations" that led her to this single status to right now.
And thanks to her friend, she learned to read the people around her, knowing when someone was looking at her with economic or social interest.
Maybe she shouldn't had advertised that her family was wealthy enough. So now, a little bit above her mid twenties, she is single, and untouched. That irritates her enough that she spends her weekends drinking and smoking. How unladylike.
But now, after meeting Him. She decided to make herself and example of a decorous woman.
The new teacher that arrived about 3 months ago, just before the end of the last term. A young teacher that replaced an old one that was just retiring.
Fresh blood, so they say. And oh boy. "Fresh" indeed
The moment he arrived to the teacher's lounge, he shined like a lighthouse in a storm. Usually, most teacher were old with a few exceptions like her. But he seemed to be as young as her, which instantly attracted her attention
But then, she saw his full face, and immediately got electrified.
White-platinum hair, just barely reaching his ears.
Red-crimson eyes that seemed to shine like a red sun just behind his glasses.
A tall fit musculature that showed through the silk shirts he wore.
His name was Yoshioka Akira, also know as Yoshioka-sensei .
He taught English. And he was, for all intents and purposes, perfectly polite and professional.
Yet, there was a… stillness to him. A profound calm that felt less like serenity and more like the absolute quiet of deep space.
When he moved, it was with an economy of motion that was almost unnerving. No wasted energy, no fidgeting, no nervous ticks. He was like a predator playing the part of a sheep, and doing a scarily good job of it.
If there was something her good friend Haruno taught her, is to read people.
She tried to engage him in conversation, of course. It was her duty as a fellow young(ish) teacher to make him feel welcome.
"So, Yoshioka-san, where did you teach before coming to Soubu High?"
He'd looked up from grading papers, those crimson eyes focusing on her with an intensity that made her feel like a specimen under a microscope.
For a split second, she felt a primal urge to look away, to flee.
But it was gone so fast she convinced herself she'd imagined it.
"Many places," he'd said, his voice a low, pleasant baritone that seemed to vibrate in the quiet room. It was a voice that suggested it could command armies or whisper secrets that could unravel reality. He offered a small, polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I felt it was time for a change of pace. Somewhere quieter."
'Quieter than what?' she'd wanted to ask. An inner-city school? A university? A warzone? The way he said it implied the latter was not entirely out of the question
Another time, she'd complained about a particularly stubborn stuck lid on her jar of instant coffee. Before she could muster her strength for another attempt, his hand was there.
"Allow me."
He didn't strain. He didn't grunt. His hand simply turned, and the lid gave way with a soft pop. He handed it back to her with that same placid smile
"Thank you," she'd said, her voice slightly breathless. "You're… very strong."
He'd blinked, then looked at the jar as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh. It was just stuck in a particular way." The excuse was so flimsy it was almost an insult. The jar had been fighting her for five minutes.
The most confusing thing was the students' reaction. The troubled ones, the quiet ones, the ones who built walls around themselves
Like Hikigaya in her class
They seemed… drawn to him.
Not in a loud, fan-club way, but in a quiet, gravitational pull. She saw Hikigaya loitering outside the English staff room once, not going in, just… standing there.
As if basking in the silent stability Yoshioka-sensei radiated.
It was infuriating. It was fascinating.
He was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, dressed in a impeccably tailored suit.
And Hiratzuka Shizuka, fueled by cheap whiskey and a desperate longing for something real, had decided she was going to solve him.
Her plan started simple, ask him out for a drink after work.
It was a normal thing colleagues did. It was a perfectly decorous, ladylike way to investigate.
She waited for a Friday, practicing her lines in her head. 'The work week is over. Care to join me for a drink, Yoshioka-sensei? I know a place.' Simple. Direct.
She found him at his desk, staring not at student essays, but out the window at the cherry blossom trees lining the walkway. His gaze was distant, ancient.
The afternoon sun caught his crimson eyes, making them glow for a moment like embers.
He must have felt her stare. He turned, and the look vanished, replaced by the mild-mannered mask of the teacher. "Hiratsuka-sensei. Did you need something?"
Shizuka took a breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. This was it.
"Yoshioka-san," she began, her voice thankfully steady. "The week is over. Care to join me for a drink? I know a place."
For the first time since she'd met him, she saw a genuine flicker of emotion in his eyes. It wasn't surprise, or interest, or annoyance.
It was… a deep, profound, and utterly weary resignation.
It was the look of a man who had seen this particular scene play out in a million different ways across a million different lives, and knew exactly how every single one of them ended.
The look lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was seared into her memory.
It was a depth of weariness that felt older than the mountains, a silent sigh from the soul of a man who had seen everything and was tired of seeing it.
Then, it was gone, smoothed over into that placid, polite neutrality.
"A drink," he repeated, the word neutral on his tongue. He glanced at the stack of essays on his desk, then back out the window at the setting sun painting the cherry blossoms in hues of orange and gold. The silence stretched, not awkwardly, but heavily, as if he were weighing her invitation against the weight of a thousand years. Finally, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Very well. Thank you for the invitation, Hiratsuka-san."
He didn't say yes to the drink, a part of her mind noted. He said yes to me. There's a difference. It felt like a monumental victory, a crack in the armor.
"Great!" she said, perhaps a little too brightly. "I know just the place. It's quiet. Good for talking."
"I would expect nothing less," Akira said, standing. He moved with that same unnerving grace, gathering his things without a single wasted motion.
The dynamic shifted the moment they left the school gates. Walking beside him through the bustling streets was a uniquely novel experience. It wasn't that people parted for him; it was that they stared.
She saw it everywhere. The double-takes from women of all ages, their eyes widening slightly as they tracked his progress down the street.
The appreciative glances at his sharp profile and striking features. He seemed utterly oblivious to it, his crimson eyes fixed ahead, moving with that unnerving, graceful economy of motion.
He wore the attention like an old, familiar coat he'd long since forgotten was there.
Shizuka, however, was acutely aware of the second wave of looks directed her way. From other women, specifically.
Curious stares, assessing glances that sized her up, and—most notably—thinly veiled looks of envy from a pair of office ladies who quickly looked away when she met their eyes.
A flash of heat, not entirely unpleasant, went through her. It was irritating, but also… strangely satisfying. They saw her walking with this impossible man and they were jealous.
The bar was a haven of dark wood and soft light. As they entered, the few patrons looked up. A woman sitting alone at a corner table paused with her drink halfway to her lips, her gaze lingering on Akira.
The owner, an old man who had seen her through many a frustrated evening, gave her a slow, deliberate nod of recognition, his eyes flicking to her companion with open curiosity.
They took seats at the counter.
"Whiskey. Rocks," Shizuka said.
Akira offered the owner a small, apologetic smile. "Just hot green tea for me, please. Thank you." His tone was final, leaving no room for questions.
It wasn't a preference
It was a statement of fact about himself.
The owner nodded and moved away.
Shizuka felt a flicker of surprise, but also a strange sense of confirmation. Of course he doesn't drink. Of course. It fit the image of a man utterly in control, one who would never allow a substance to lower his guard.
Her whiskey and his tea arrived. Steam curled from the porcelain cup in front of him.
He didn't immediately reach for it. He simply observed the tendrils of vapor rising into the air, his crimson eyes tracking their dance with an intensity that seemed to
Shizuka took a fortifying sip of her drink. "So," she began, leaning an elbow on the bar. "You're a man from many places. What brought you to Soubu High?"
It was a safer question. She saw him process it, his gaze shifting from the steam to her. He chose his words with the care of a man who knew the weight each one could carry.
"I have found that after a very long time," he began, his voice a low, measured baritone, "the loudest lives can become the most empty. The grandest stages lose their meaning." He finally wrapped his hands around the warm tea cup, not drinking, just absorbing its heat. "You eventually learn that the only things that ever truly matter are the small, quiet moments. The ones that are easy to miss when you're always looking at the horizon."
He paused, and his eyes lost their focus for a moment
"I am trying to learn how to notice them again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Teaching… provides a structure for that. A simple, human purpose."
It was the most honest and profound thing anyone had ever said to her.
The truth of it was etched into every word, into the ancient quiet that settled around him when he stopped speaking. He had told her everything by telling her nothing at all.
Shizuka finished her glass, the warmth in her stomach nothing compared to the heat of her curiosity.
She had been right. The mystery was infinitely deeper than she had imagined.
She looked at Yoshioka Akira, a man who drank tea in a bar and spoke of quiet moments with the gravity of a king abdicating his throne, and she knew.
She signaled the owner for another drink and a refill on the tea.
"Well, Yoshioka-san," she said, a new, determined smile on her lips. "Welcome to the quiet life. Let's see if we can find you some moments worth noticing."
The second whiskey arrived, its amber glow catching the soft light of the bar. Across from her, Akira's tea was refilled, the steam rising in a fresh, fragrant plume.
He acknowledged it with a slight, almost imperceptible nod of thanks to the owner, a gesture of quiet courtesy.
He turned his attention back to her, and she felt it
A focused, assessing stillness.
It wasn't intrusive, but it was absolute.
He wasn't just looking at her...
He was reading her.
The slight nervousness in her grip on the glass, the determined set of her jaw, the curiosity she couldn't quite hide.
He saw it all in a single, glancing moment before his expression settled back into its default state of polite neutrality.
"You speak about quiet moments as if they're a rare find," Shizuka ventured, swirling the ice in her glass, trying to break the intensity of his silent observation.
"Don't they tend to be?" he replied, his voice low and even. "Life is usually… noisy." He lifted his tea cup, taking a slow sip.
His eyes stayed on hers over the rim of the cup. He wasn't giving anything away. He was just… sharing a moment. A tired, quiet man having tea with a colleague.
"It is," she agreed, feeling oddly exposed under his calm gaze. "So, teaching English at Soubu High is your attempt to find a less noisy corner?"
"Something like that," he conceded, setting his cup down. "The rhythm is predictable. The challenges are… human-sized." His gaze flickered around the bar, taking in the details—the grain of the wood, the bottles behind the counter—before returning to her. "It's a good place to be present."
His words were simple, but the way he said human-sized felt weighted. As if he were accustomed to challenges of a very different scale.
"And are you?" she asked, leaning forward slightly. "Present?"
He was silent for a moment, and she could almost see the calculations happening behind his eyes.
How much to say.
How to say it without saying anything at all.
"Right now I am," he said finally. His tone was flat, factual. "The tea is hot. The seat is comfortable. The company is… persistent."
A flicker of something. Not quite amusement, not quite exhaustion, passed through his crimson eyes. It was the barest hint of a crack, and it was gone almost before she registered it.
He wasn't telling her about millennia or grand stages. He was stating a simple fact: he knew she was digging, and he was acknowledging it without giving an inch of ground.
Shizuka felt a thrill at the tiny admission. He wasn't fooled. Not for a second.
From anyone else, it might have felt like a deflection.
From him, it felt like a revelation.
He saw her. He saw her curiosity, her determination, and he was choosing to sit across from her anyway.
He was bored, but his guard was still impeccably high.
The woman in the corner finally left, and the owner busied himself at the other end of the bar.
The space felt more private.
Shizuka took a deep breath, meeting his gaze squarely. The mystery wasn't shrinking; it was deepening, becoming more compelling.
"Alright then, Yoshioka-san," she said, her voice steady. "I'll take persistent."
A corner of his mouth twitched. It wasn't quite a smile, but it was something.
An acknowledgment. A silent concession that this, right here, was one of those human-sized moments he was trying to notice.
He lifted his tea cup in a minimal, almost toast-like gesture. "It's not a bad thing," he said, his voice quiet. "It makes the quiet less lonely."
The statement was so simple, so starkly honest, that it stole the air from her lungs. It wasn't an elaborate confession. It was just a tired man admitting a universal truth, and in doing so, giving her the smallest, most valuable glimpse behind the wall.
For Hiratsuka Shizuka, it was everything.