Who Do You Remember?

Chapter 1: Savior

Being at school after most of his peers have been picked up already is something that Keiji heavily enjoyed. It made the campus feel a lot bigger, sort of like his own personal jungle or wonderland. As of that moment, his back was straight and his chest was puffed out slightly; Keiji had been given a task, and he was on business. Chin tilted up slightly and hands behind his back, he headed down one floor to collect the scantrons from the year three classrooms. They'd just had their standardized tests last week, just like the year fours. Keiji hummed to himself, excited to get his results back; if he had the highest score of the grade, his parents would likely praise him. Perhaps the three of them would watch some Survivor together, or maybe they'd buy him some good pens.

The first few classrooms on the floor were typical trips. He even got an affectionate head pat from the teacher he had last year. It made him feel important, for a teacher to recognize him as someone worthwhile. Though, if Yoshiko were with him, she'd probably get even more head pats. His feelings about her were funny. Even though she was his fiercest competition, he was never jealous when she got something better than him or when she was treated super nicely. She deserved it. He could recognize this as a crush, but it felt almost illicit, like he was getting away with something.

Head in the clouds, he headed toward the last classroom he needed. He raised his hand to knock, holding the scantron folders in his other arm, but hesitated at the last possible second. He heard something. It sounded like a whimper. Weird. He leaned his head in to listen closer. The side of his glasses tilted uncomfortably, but for some reason, he thought this was important.

"Pleasepleaseplease, don't do that anymore! It– It hurts! Just make me write standards! I'll– I'll write fifty million bajillion! I'll stay here all night writing!"

There was a sharp cracking sound and a louder whimper. "God, are you even capable of being quiet? This is your entire problem. The job of a student is to listen, and to speak when spoken to." Keiji, as swiftly and quietly as possible, dug his tape recorder out of his backpack and held it up against the door. He hoped that the hurt student's sniffles could be picked up. "You are a problem child, Mr. Gima. You are disruptive, inconsiderate, and a failure. Clearly, making you write 'fifty million bajillion' standards has done absolutely nothing to improve your behavior. That won't suffice anymore."

"What does suffice mean?! You always use big words I can't understand and you roll your eyes when I have questions and Miss Inoue, I know I'm a bad kid but I'm trying, I promise–!" His words were cut off by yet another crack, and then another, and he gasped sharply before sobbing. "Ow, ow!"

"Clearly, you are not trying hard enough. With any luck, this may be the... encouragement you need."

At this point, Keiji fumbled to turn the recorder off and hide it so that he could intervene. He didn't know exactly why, but a burst of panic flooded through him, as though something very bad would happen if he stood by. He knocked. "Hush up, now. Someone is here." After a few moments of shuffling, a prim, proper, frankly terrifying woman opened the door. She felt so big. So daunting. Keiji's heart was filled with loathing instantaneously. Teachers were supposed to be responsible. They were supposed to teach kids how awesome learning is, and help them when they didn't get a concept. They were not supposed to act like this. In a very short amount of time, Keiji had to come up with a plan. "Yes, hello? What do you need?"

He took a deep breath. "Hello, Miss. My name is Keiji Sekiguchi. I am a fourth year. I was sent to get the scantrons from last week's standardized tests."

"Certainly." She briskly snatched a neat stack on her desk and handed it to him.

"Are you Miss Inoue?" His heart was pounding out of his chest.