Down the street, only a few houses down, is the Aron family household.
A normal looking house, with two floors. One might consider it a bit large, depending on their family size. But, for a house where a maximum of three people live, it is quite fine. Of course, the unapologetic mix of traditional and western architecture makes it stand out amongst the neighborhood, though its appearance isn't extremely jarring.
I enter through the small gate area and walk up to the front door. Of course, I knock. But, before I can even raise my hand to do so, I hear the metallic jingling sound of the lock from the inside.
That familiar jingle.
The door reveals a modest figure before me.
"———Sustrous. Late again, I see. You do not seem to put much importance behind these lessons, do you?"
Takamura stares me down with her catty eyes. Even through those professional frames, she truly does have the look of a demon.
"Sorry, Sense—"
"What is it that you are holding? Do not tell me that this box is the reason you are tardy."
She naturally has the mannerisms of a traditional teacher.
"Well, actually, it's for you, Sensei."
Her face. Well, her face—I can't really describe it. It is a look of surprise that somebody like Takamura normally does not wear.
"Oh. Well. That is certainly unexpected."
She waits a moment, locking her eyes onto the cute pink box.
Does she…not understand what it means to receive a gift?
"---What are you waiting for?"
"Wha—?"
She closes her eyes in anger. I must be giving her a headache, and it has not even been one minute since she opened the door.
"Come inside already. Unless you want to go to bed by dawn?"
I assume I zoned out for a moment there.
"Ah, yeah. Of course, Sensei."
She barely moves her body out of the way, but I'm still able to fit through the door. It's no lie that Takamura has the body of an amateur model, but I'm still confused to this day how she was able to keep such a frame.
…Actually, as I look at Takamura more and more, I notice immediately that something is different about her.
"Hey, Takamura-Sensei…"
I walk into the main living room, and turn around. Takamura faces me and shuts the door behind her.
"Did you cut your hair? It's a lot shorter than usual, I think."
"————"
She gives me a certain glare. One that makes me immediately regret opening my mouth in the first place.
"————Yes. I did."
"Huh?"
Again, she glares at me, as if I should say something in response.
"W-well…"
Gosh, why did God give somebody such eyes? The eyes of death—such empty and sharp triangular eyes capable of slicing through both confidence and body.
"I-it's good. Really good. I think it fits you quite well, actually."
I offer a smile.
But, Takamura has already gone past to bring out my work for the night.
"Ah…"
Hopefully she just ignored my response. Or better yet, didn't hear me.
Well, Takamura is a woman best seen as a man. As if her aura was not intimidating enough, whatever god chose to create her decided to plunge jet black eyes into her skull, with a deadly glare to go with it.
For some odd reason, she is always dressed in a traditional kimono. This night is not any different. It's jet black just like her eyes and soul, and brushes against the ground like a broom.
The only warm detail about her is her short hair. I have no clue why, but she cut it down to a western bob.
"Sit. Today we will continue our lesson in Latin."
She says Latin is if it were Ratin.
"Yes, Sensei."
I place the boxed cake onto the table like a present.
I've known Takamura for about the same amount of time I've known Kuwagawa-Sensei. But, in her case, my memories aren't too fond. We never joke around or argue, but that's because we just don't talk much at all.
I have no clue whether she is married or not, but I doubt it. Not because there are clues leading me to believe so, but because no man in their right mind would marry another man. So, in other words, no man will ever marry Takamura.
—Even her name sounds manly. With a last name of Takamura, and a first name of—
"—"
First name of—?
Do I seriously not know her first name? After six long years of torture?
Well, I cannot blame myself. She has never even properly introduced herself except the first day we met.