"Look, I really didn't mind the fact that I died and reincarnated into Ansatsu Kyoushitsu. I didn't really mind that you gave me a hole in the heart. That was a real dick move, but I didn't complain. So god, Void, whatever, I'm sorry I punched a stu...
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40. Ease
It was a day of sore throats and wet coughs when Nao heard the news.
The kids had been reckless with their free-running, and there were injuries in the form of a poor old man with a fractured thigh.
He was already in the hospital-- luckily-- so he had to rush into the room, and together with Karasuma's subordinate-- get on his knees to plead for forgiveness. If they screwed up here and didn't earn the man's favour, the entire state secret's a blowout.
Fortunately, with Korosensei's fervent challenge of 'look how many flowers I can FIT IN THIS TINY ROOM!' and his overenthusiastic dogeza of sheer babadook horror-- they managed to terrify the old man long enough for him to hear them out.
(Nao immediately proceeded to deliver one good-headed SMACK to the octopus' head. Seriously, there's a fine line between desperation and dramatisation, and creating new seeds of trauma in an old man goes beyond it.)
He watched quietly as the students were brought in (with a new print of a tentacle-slap bright red against their faces) and the situation was explained.
It looks like their next two weeks will be spent helping out the nursery, and no studying would be allowed in the time frame. After all-- this incident was caused by the students who couldn't set their priorities straight. What better way to truly teach them what mattered?
It looks like the next term's exams are a bust, but it will be fine.
He held up an OK when Korosensei glanced his way for approval.
And then, after bidding a polite goodbye to the old man, he hurriedly excused himself. It wasn't the most polite thing the teacher-in-charge should do, but he was desperate.
His throat was burning and his migraine was peaking-- a sharp throb punctuating his ever step as a drill crams itself through his the head-- he sought out his house in the fog of dizziness, taking effortful, surging steps as upright as he could manage-- making it to a couch where it was finally safe to collapse and start emulating a strangled frog.
He was not having a good day. Or week. Or month, for that matter.
-
The kids are spending this moment of reprieve from their studies working at the orphanage, but Nao spends most of his time in bed.
