That was the time, where I had forgotten who I was and who I loved, when I decided to stay home for the hundredth day in a row. Or rather, forced to. Or rather, it was in my best interest to.
That day, or night, I remember coming downstairs and being introduced to a woman in a white kimono clasping her hands like a saint, with hair like a goddess, and eyes like a demon.
She was holding a briefcase in her hands, and speaking with my father. The two were discussing some adult-things, probably about money or the current state of the economy or whatnot, when I was ushered towards her.
Under her, I could see the muscular frame hidden underneath the heavy kimono. That time I could easily recognize that she wore the kimono to hide her body, or maybe she just enjoyed wearing it that way. But, nevertheless, she leaned over and smiled at me, the first time she ever did, and called me by my first name.
"—My name is Takamura. I'll be your teacher from now on. How's that?"
Mashing my head, my father didn't allow me to interject. So from that day I decided Takamura would live there during the night to help me study. I wouldn't go to school any longer, and would spend most of my day at the bakery.
But she never smiled again, nor spoke casually. Rather, she became a shell of the woman she once was. Or perhaps she revealed her true, cold-hearted self.
I never questioned why she never told me her first name that day, considering I was a toddler and never asked questions. I physically couldn't due to my limp brain, but I just went along with everything and anything like a lifeless doll.
"Take out your notebook. We'll be studying conjugation once again."
The demon returns, and hands me a pen. I'm not allowed to use a pencil since it encourages mistakes.
Takamura sits opposite to me on the long dining table. Her choice of position is pretty awkward, but no surprise to me. She has been sitting there for so long that it's practically her domain.
Though it may seem hard to hear somebody from such a distance, she obviously has developed a clear and strong voice, one that's increasingly difficult to erase from my head.
And so, in the dead silence of the Aron household, Takamura begins her assault.
"Redefining our terms. Last week you had some issues with the modal verb suffixes. Remember; sum, esse, fui, futurus? How the perfect, imperfect, and future tenses behave differently depending on their endings? And that some verbs, especially irregular ones, do not follow the 'are', 'ere', 'ire' pattern? Don't just memorize them. Understand the logic. The suffixes tell you the time, the voice, and sometimes the mood of the verb. If you forget that, you have lost before you even start."
"O-of course."
The weight of the dense words fry my brain.
I nod without giving a second thought, only to get this over with.
"Good. Now, I want you to write one hundred verbs that have this suffix."
She says it so casually and without care that I'm actually shocked.
But, with the expression she wears, it seems I have no choice but to comply.
It's no lie that these lessons help me. As a substitute for normal classes, I've definitely improved faster than others. But, Takamura's methods are so common and brute-like that they make my head spin.
"Go ahead. Time is all that is left."
"Yes…"
I bow my head in exhaustion. It's barely been ten minutes and I already want to leave.
Even worse, I seem to have forgotten the cake I had stupidly left to melt on the table.
"Ah, crap—!"
I don't pay attention to Takamura and grab the box like it's my heart. Checking the inside, it has melted, and to no surprise.
"S-shoot. And Kota must've worked so hard on this…"
"——Kuwagawa-kun?"
Her voice pierces the silence of the room like a scarlet blade.
I thought I had whispered my words, but she obviously must have super-hearing.
"Y-yeah."
"Is he the one who gave this to you? And intended it for me?"
"Well, I can't particularly deny that…"
The black kimono stops.
Not in embarrassment, but as if to think for a moment.
But, to be honest, her face and responses are so robotic it's sad.
Does a person like her even have more than three emotions to convey?
"I would appreciate it if you placed your attention on the assignment."
"Y-yes. Sorry."
"Sorry…?"
"Sorry, Sensei. Takamura, Sensei."
She closes her eyes in cold approval.
And so, I place the box back onto the table, a bit farther away from me this time, and force myself to grab the writing utensil lying next to my right hand.
Without a trace of concern, she destroys the focus of the pink box.
Like a robot, she acts as if the box was never even a concept in reality, but rather an additional splatter of color on the backdrop that is the dining room.
——Now, I get to the task at hand.
I'm used to these tedious tasks thanks to the countless odd jobs I do at the bakery, but tonight I'm feeling particularly unmotivated.
Maybe it's just that Monday feeling.
Still, I persevere and get to work on my assignment.
I feel like I can finish it in an hour if I don't get distracted, so I glance at the clock above Takamura's head and wait for the big numbers to chime.