Kissing My Student, It's Over if We're Caught-Chapter 4Volume 1 .1 - Trauma: Separation

When the students start their summer vacation, the daily life of a high school teacher becomes significantly easier—or not at all.

The Board of Education sends invitations for training, and the school asks for the submission of lesson plans for the next semester.

There are also supplementary lessons for students who performed poorly, and special classes for third-year students who are preparing for entrance exams.

In short, it’s insanely busy.

The training, in particular, was tough. Giving a mock lesson in front of the gentlemen from the Education Committee is quite nerve-wracking.

I managed to finish it without any issues, but I couldn’t help feeling anxious. I even messaged my ex-girlfriend for the first time in years saying, “I’m tired…”, and I ended up venting to Kirihara over the phone.

And then, the next day, I was waiting to help out the girls’ basketball team.

“Since you might be in charge of a club activity someday, it’s better to have some experience,” suggested the principal, leading me to spend a day as an assistant coach.

Morikawara Academy’s gymnasium is air-conditioned, but we still need to be cautious of heatstroke among the students. Having no expertise in basketball, my role was to watch for any students who might feel unwell while picking up balls.

The students were grateful, saying, “The summer tournament is coming up, so your help is much appreciated.”

No student fell ill, so I spent most of my time just picking up balls, but I still received thanks from the coach.

“I’ll tell you a secret, Hajima-sensei will never become a club advisor at Morikawara Academy,” I was confidentially informed.

Apparently, all the current club advisors at Morikawara Academy, both athletic and cultural, are experienced individuals who voluntarily took on the roles. There are no plans for any changes.

Unless a new club is formed, my workload isn’t likely to increase.

…Needless to say, I was somewhat, no, greatly relieved.

Not to boast, but I can’t think of any club activities I could be in charge of. ……Perhaps the trendy “eSports”?

“No way,”

At night, while playing games at Kirihara’s house, I mentioned it, and she immediately shot down the idea.

“The games we play are a different breed from competitive gaming.”

Games considered as competitive are generally player versus player.

Unlike Kirihara and me, who continuously battle against computer programs.

“Well, it’s okay not to become a club advisor. It would take away from our time together.”

Honestly, I felt the same way, so I could only agree.

After a month of July filled with supplementary lessons, training, and a day as an assistant advisor, things finally began to settle down a bit.

I discussed the lesson plan for the second semester with Kurei-san, especially since it’s the exam season for third-year students.

It’s necessary to at least be aware of the recent trends in university entrance exams.

After a series of serious discussions, Kurei-san suddenly asked me.

“Hajima-sensei, are you going back to your hometown for the Obon vacation?”

Even busy high school teachers get a break during Obon. All club activities are completely halted during this period, and the school itself is locked up.

“I don’t plan to go back home. Every year, my parents use the grave visit as an excuse to go on a trip…”

“Your parents seem to get along well.”

“Well, yes. But even without that, since I lived at home after quitting my company, I thought I’d skip this year.”

“I see. So, you’re spending it alone?”

“…That’s the plan.”

The truth is, I plan to spend it with Kirihara.

She has been saying for a while that she wants me to be with her since she has no plans.

“What about Kurei-sensei?”

“I’ll be at home alone too. The end of the year is stressful because of the students’ exams, right? We need to rest properly sometimes. Besides… if I go back, I’ll just be nagged about getting married.”

It was a somewhat disheartening story.

Seeing me at a loss for words, Kurei-san sighed.

“Sorry. It’s pointless to vent to you about this.”

“I wonder if I’ll also be told to bring a girlfriend home someday…”

“Depending on your parents’ personalities, maybe…”

The conversation somehow became exhausting.

“Let’s have a good break.”

“Yes. Let’s both do our best.”

With that, the conversation shifted back to finalizing our work for the second semester so we could fully enjoy our vacation.

After work, I leave the school and head home.

…Except, my destination isn’t my house but Kirihara’s.

Arriving at the station, I retrieve my disguise from the locker and change in the restroom of a nearby shopping center. I walk down the familiar path and ring the doorbell at Kirihara’s front gate, where she greets me with a smile, wearing an apron.

“Welcome back.”

The greeting has changed from “Welcome” since I’ve been coming here almost every day during the summer vacation.

“Perfect timing. I just finished the prep for dinner.”

She pulls me inside, happily reporting her progress.

Lately, Kirihara has taken on the task of cutting vegetables and boiling them.

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I taught her how to season the dishes, but she insists that she wants me to do it.

“Making food together that we’ll eat together feels emotional,” or so she says.

I kind of get it, but also don’t…

“Gin, hurry up. I’m hungry.”

“Alright, alright… If you’re that hungry, you could just make it yourself.”

“No way!”

“Okay, okay.”

“One ‘okay’ is enough, Sensei.”

“Alright.”

As we stand in the kitchen, Kirihara hangs from my neck from behind.

Today’s menu is okonomiyaki.

Not skimping on the bonito flakes, sauce, and mayonnaise is my way… or rather, a secret to deliciousness I learned from my part-time job’s manager.

When the freshly made okonomiyaki is laid out on the table, Kirihara’s eyes sparkle with joy.

“This is more luxurious than what we made at the mock store, right?”

“Different budgets, different budgets. ……Let’s eat!”

“Let’s eat!”

We carefully divide it with chopsticks before shoveling it into our mouths.

Delicious! We both beam with joy.

“This is the best, Gin!”

“The best, Kirihara!”

We stuff our faces, making sure not to be too vulgar as we quickly fill our stomachs.