---
Rain didn't care who it fell on.
The sky above Mishiro City had cracked open with an early spring storm, grey clouds coughing thunder like an old man clearing his throat. Students were already rushing home, uniforms pulled over their heads, umbrellas flipping in the wind. But Reiji Kazama didn't care.
He sat slumped on the curb behind the Lawson store, blood dripping from his right hand, a fresh bruise forming under his left eye. His knuckles were raw again. He wasn't sure whose blood it was. Didn't matter. He hated this part—not the fight, but the aftermath. The silence. The rain pressing down like it wanted to bury him.
He pressed his fingers against his jaw and hissed. Split. Again.
"Tch," he muttered. "Stupid upperclassman. Should've kept his mouth shut."
The sidewalk in front of him blurred. Rain slid down his lashes. Maybe it was rain. Maybe it wasn't.
"Mama, that oni-san looks like a zombie!"
The voice was high and clear. Like the bell on a shrine.
Reiji jerked his head up.
A woman stood a few feet away, holding a yellow umbrella dotted with tiny cartoon ducks. Beside her was a little girl in pink boots, pointing directly at him like he was an exhibit at a zoo.
He blinked. She looked like someone out of a dream. A soft beige coat, long black hair tucked into a bun, kind eyes that didn't flinch when they met his.
"He's not a zombie, sweetie. Just a little lost."
Reiji scoffed, looked away. "Tch. Mind your own business."
She didn't.
Instead, she knelt in front of him—knee-deep in puddles—and reached into her bag. He flinched when she moved closer, but her voice was light, almost amused.
"You're hurt. Let me see."
"I said I'm fine."
"Fine people don't bleed this much."
She pulled out a tiny travel pouch. Wet wipes. Bandages. Reiji tried to lean away, but she was already dabbing at the cut on his cheek. Her touch was gentle. Motherly. His heart squeezed.
"I didn't ask you to help," he muttered.
"Doesn't mean you didn't need it."
Her scent was faint. Like chamomile tea and laundry soap. She hummed softly as she worked.
The little girl crouched beside him now, staring with wide, curious eyes.
"Why are you all red, Punch-kun?"
He blinked. "Punch-kun?"
"That's your name now!" she declared proudly. "Because you look like someone who punches people! Are you a superhero?"
Reiji almost laughed. Almost.
"I'm… definitely not a hero, kid."
The woman stood up, brushing the rain from her coat. She handed him a small adhesive bandage with a bear on it.
"Use this. You're going to catch a cold."
She turned, her boots splashing lightly in the puddles as the little girl grabbed her hand.
And just like that, they were walking away. The duck umbrella bobbed, getting smaller in the storm.
Reiji sat still, staring at the bandage in his hand.
"…Who the hell are you?"
---
The Next Morning – Mishiro High, Class 3-B
Reiji was tired. He hadn't slept. Not really.
His body ached, and the teachers already gave up trying to lecture him about showing up bruised and late. As long as he didn't start a fight in school, they let him rot in the back row, next to the window—the cliché seat for the troubled kid.
He liked the window. The sky didn't talk back.
Kaito, the only guy who ever bothered to talk to him, leaned in.
"Yo, Kazama. You look worse than usual."
Reiji grunted.
"There's a new sub today," Kaito added. "Our homeroom teacher broke his back or something. Slipped on a futon."
"I don't care."
"You will. I heard she's hot."
The door slid open.
The classroom buzzed with idle conversation until she stepped in.
Reiji didn't see her at first. He was drawing in his notebook. A dragon wrapped around a gravestone. Something he dreamed last night.
But then he heard it.
That same soft, chamomile voice.
"Good morning, everyone. My name is Minazuki Asuka. I'll be filling in as your homeroom teacher starting today."
Time stopped.
Reiji's pencil froze mid-line.
He slowly lifted his eyes—and nearly fell out of his chair.
It was her.
The umbrella woman.
She stood at the front, same kind eyes, same gentle smile—though now dressed in a cream blouse and plaid skirt. She looked around the room, making warm eye contact with each student.
Until her eyes landed on him.
She blinked.
He blinked.
Something like recognition flickered.
"…Oh."
The class began murmuring.
"Wait, isn't that…?"
"Yo, Kazama's turning red!"
"Did something happen between you two?!"
Reiji stood up so fast his chair scraped violently.
"You didn't say you were a teacher!!"
The class went absolutely feral.
"WHAT?!"
"Did he just shout at the teacher?!"
"Did something happen?! Spill!"
Asuka blinked again, putting a hand to her mouth.
"…You're the boy from yesterday."
He turned bright red. Not just his cheeks—his ears, his neck, even the bruises seemed to darken.
"I—I didn't know—! You helped me and—this is just—!"
Asuka laughed softly. "Well, this is quite the coincidence."
Reiji groaned and slammed his forehead on the desk.
"Kill me."
---
Later that Day – Rooftop
Reiji skipped third period. His brain was fried, and his heart felt like a pinball machine.
How could she be a teacher?
Why didn't she say anything?
Why did her voice keep replaying in his head?
"Punch-kun."
He smacked his forehead again. "Shut up…"
The door to the roof creaked open.
He didn't look up. He knew who it was.
She walked toward him, quietly, the wind tugging at her skirt.
"You shouldn't be up here."
"Yeah, well. I suck at rules."
"I noticed."
She sat beside him, a polite distance away.
Silence.
Then:
"You're not what I expected."
He frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You seem angry. But I think you're actually very kind."
He laughed bitterly. "Lady, you've known me for ten minutes."
"I watched you let my daughter yell at you. That's a lifetime's worth of patience for a five-year-old."
"…Tch."
"I didn't mean to embarrass you."
"…It's fine."
She turned to him, her expression unreadable.
"I'm not here to fix you, Reiji-kun. But if you ever want to talk… I'll listen."
He looked away. The wind howled.
"You're too nice," he muttered.
"Maybe."
She stood up, brushing off her skirt.
"I hope we get along."
She walked to the door.
Reiji watched her leave, heart pounding in a way no punch had ever made it pound before.
> What the hell is this feeling…?
> And why do I want to see her smile again?