To kill a little lamb [Kenya Kobayashi] |One-shot|

To kill a little lamb

You are kneeling on the cold floor, searching for your shoes, when a warm voice startles you.

"Kenya! Could you stop by the faculty room?"

You turn, only to see your teacher smiling at you with a wide, bright smile. 

"Ah! Yashiro-Sensei!" You smile slightly at him. You have the best manners in your group of friends (and of the whole class probably), so no matter if his stare makes you want to flinch, you smile. (You always do.)

He just looks at you amused, with his grin crooked and eyebrows arched. "Are you going to stand there, Kenya?"

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment: you were getting ready to leave! So with some reluctance that you hope Yashiro-Sensei doesn't notice ( he does ) you return your red shoes to their place on the large piece of furniture. 

"Sorry, Yashiro-Sensei" You apologize, bowing. You almost jump when a warm hand lands on the back of your neck. 

"No need to apologize, Kenya" He laughs again, the voice rich and dark as the velvet of the cakes Satorou hates so much. Or used to hate, now he seems to love it. Like so many other things, Satoru is so... weird, strange, changed... s̶o̶ ̶o̶b̶s̶e̶s̶s̶e̶d̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶H̶i̶n̶a̶z̶u̶k̶i̶ ̶K̶a̶y̶o̶  so not the Satoru you grew to love so much. 

Your thoughts stop spinning above your head like passengers on a faulty ferris wheel: falling into the void and ceasing to exist, because Yashiro-Sensei's very warm hand keeps rubbing— no, fussing… neither… petting your head. His big, long fingers weave through your hair, carefully breaking the occasional knot caused by the deadly cold winter wind. 

(You don't wear a hat, you never liked it. The wool itches and makes you want to sneeze. Instead, earmuffs are warm and fuzzy, like a pet.)

"...Yashiro-Sensei?" you ask, no louder than a whisper. You don't dare put a name to what he's doing, because it makes you feel so many things. Confusion is one, embarrassment is another. But something that would make you more embarrassed is to put a name to it and have it not be, and have Yashiro-Sensei never look at you again, never smile at you again .

(And that would be the worst thing that could happen to you: Yashiro-Sensei is so kind, so warm, so... heroic . He reminds you of Satoru, who even if he's no longer the same he used to be, is still all those things. You want to be all those things. But you're very quiet, shy and unpleasant, you don't like confrontation and you're always afraid, even if you hide it under a stony mask of indifference.)

"Yes, Kenya?" Yashiro-Sensei whispers in your ear, his breath, though as warm as his smile, makes you shiver. 

"I'm sorry, where was I supposed to follow you?" That breaks the spell, and Yashiro-Sensei lets go of your hair (which now itches where Yashiro-Sensei's warm hand is but a passing sensation.)