There's an old saying my late grandma taught me. When you're ten, they call you prodigy. When you're fifteen, they call you a genius. Once you hit twenty, you're just an ordinary person. I think that's true.
I'm Nanase Haruka, a 20 year old university student in Tokyo, majoring in Arts. I'm ordinary in every sense of the word. When I was young I had a talent for swimming but because of the way life played out, I didn't do anything with it. I lost count of the times my teachers got upset with me because of that. But I didn't swim because of my 'talent' and I also didn't want to swim for anyone else besides me. The only reason I like to be in the water is because it feels natural.
What I don’t like is change. I just can’t deal with the uncertainties it brings about and I’m bad at adapting to new situations. That’s why, when I couldn't come up with any ideas what to do with my life after I graduated from high school in Iwatobi, and my best friend Tachibana Makoto decided to become a teacher at a university in Tokyo, my natural decision was to just follow him. Yes, having my childhood friend move away would have been worse than enduring the change of my surroundings. I know it sounds strange, but that’s how my mind works. Since I like drawing and I guess I’m kind of good at it I decided on a university offering a degree in Arts. People could say I'm simple-minded but that's just who I am. I don't like to think about things much because it's too much of an effort. And so is explaining my thoughts to others.
That's why I'm here now, starting my third year of university and never even once have I considered my life anything else than ordinary.
What do I like to draw? Well... I like drawing mascots. Also, abstract things and non-living objects. Since I have no interest in people I barely draw them. The last exception I made was in my first year of university. Although I'm studying Arts I have to gain some Credit Points in other fields of study, so I ended up in an English course I didn't even want to take. I suck at English.
Our teacher was a very young man with red hair and red eyes, who always seemed to be in a bad mood. His name was 'Matsuoka Rin'. He had this aura around him that made it hard to approach, as if he didn't want people to get close to him. I could relate to him very well. But in spite of his harsh words and appearance, what was striking about him were his glowing red eyes, which always looked incredibly sad as if he was on the edge of breaking down and crying. To me, those eyes and the expression on his face held a fascination I couldn't describe, so instead of my usual sketches during classes I drew his face the way I imagined him crying: with eyes full of tears and the tears streaming down his cheeks. I was so captivated by this task that I didn't hear the bell ringing for the end of the lesson. It was the last lesson that day and the sun was already setting, painting the world outside of the window in warm reddish colors. I didn't realize that except for the teacher I was the only one left in the class room. Only when I heard his footsteps next to me was I being pulled out of my thoughts.
“Hey you! Are you planning on going home today or do you wanna spend the night here? Better make up your mind fast cause I need to lock this classroom!”
I was startled and quickly hid my drawing with my arms but it was too late. He had already seen it. His eyes widened in surprise.
“...”
Before he could react in any other way I grabbed all of my stuff and quickly ran out of the class without a word, leaving the teacher alone in the empty classroom.
I didn't try to draw the teacher ever again. During classes I avoided eye contact with him and only when I thought he didn't look did I take a glimpse of his face and those dazzling red eyes.
I passed the course and after that I didn't see him again in my second year. It was only weeks later that I heard he had gone to Australia to teach there for a year.
Good. One person less that occupied my mind with unnecessary thoughts.
Why am I talking about all that, you ask? Well. My third year, which has just begun, couldn’t have started any worse. I have to take extra lessons once again and if that wasn't annoying enough the only course I was accepted for was English. On top of that, this course was my first lesson on my first day after the long holidays. When I was lying in my bath tub this morning I had played with the thought of skipping classes, but then Makoto had called me and somehow talked me into going to university. Unfortunately I was already late and when I entered the class room, most of the students had already taken their seats, making the situation unnecessarily flashy. I hadn't even taken a look at the teacher yet and was skimming the class for an empty seat, when I heard a cheerful “Oh, it's you!”
I turned my head around and found myself staring at the same red-haired teacher I knew from two years ago. But his facial expression had changed drastically; his red eyes were shining bright and his face beamed with a smile. And before I could react in any way, he had dragged me into his arms, giving me a hug in front of all the students.
My body froze. I was so over-strained with the situations that I didn't do anything at all. What was that strange person thinking? I didn’t know him; he didn’t know me; and his impression of me had to be that of a creepy stalker drawing strange pictures of him in class. And above all, I can’t stand people being that close to me. Meanwhile, I could hear the students around me breaking into a giggle and starting to talk to their neighbors and I instantly felt my face heat up with embarrassment.
“Sensei~ You aren't allowed to hug students!”, came a remark from one of the spectators. She wasn't serious though, saying it with a funny undertone in her voice.
“Ah, sorry, sorry! I knew this one from my first year of teaching here, you know. It was kind of nostalgic, so I couldn't help it.”, the teacher replied in a cheeky way and scratched the back of his head; finally letting go of me. The students laughed, especially the female students. I could hear a few of them saying “How cuuute!”
How annoying.
I felt the sudden urge to turn around and go back home to my beloved bathtub where there were no weird people doing weird things around, but somehow my feet carried me to an empty seat and I sunk deep into the chair.
What had happened to the teacher during his year abroad? Why was he so different? Why did he have to embrace me of all people? There were so many questions and I couldn't answer any of them, nor did I know anything about the red haired teacher other than his name in the first place.
But I was soon to find out.
