Lesson Five

Chapter One: Uesugi-Sensei

Futaro Uesugi stood before the staff mirror which was situated just at the entrance of the staff room. He focused on the reflection of his flat, straight hair that draped around his head like a lifeless dome. He sighed as he attempted to comb it into some semblance of presentability, but after several unsuccessful efforts, he resigned himself to what nature had bestowed upon him.

"Another day, another futile attempt," Futaro muttered under his breath as he walked away, slipping the comb back into his desk drawer.

As an English teacher at a Kaisei High School in Tokyo, Futaro's daily routine was quite simple and predictable. He arrived at school early, always making sure to take the least crowded train to minimize human interaction and upon reaching the school, he would make a beeline for the sanctuary of his own desk, forcing the bare minimum of the usual morning pleasantries with colleagues and students alike. His lunch breaks were usually spent alone at his desk, and usually with his head down so as to not bring any attention to himself.

Kaisei High School was not where he imagined he'd build his teaching experience. But here he was. Nestled among the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets of the city, Kaisei is a pristine, modern campus adorned with lush greenery and state-of-the-art facilities, attracting the children of some of the wealthiest families in Japan. He could still remember the look of frustrated jealousy when the first-year graduate hire reports came in, and his classmates realized he had somehow scored one of the best schools in the nation as a recent grad. As the son of a single father who had struggled to make ends meet, Futaro was all too aware of the contrast between this gilded world and his own humble beginnings.

But of course, reality is always harsher than fiction. Despite the idyllic atmosphere surrounding the school, the students were under immense pressure to succeed. Their constant striving for perfection and aggressive competitiveness often left them emotionally drained. Many panicked and often others simply dropped out.

"Good morning, Uesugi-sensei!" A cheerful voice interrupted Futaro's morning thoughts. He grimaced momentarily before plastering on a forced smile.

"Ah, good morning, Yamada-kun," he replied to one of his more exuberant students who always greeted him no matter what Futaro's demeanor seemed to be. Futaro liked Yamada-kun. He was utterly unfazed by Futaro's grumpy demeanor and therefore felt it less necessary to put on airs for the first year.

Soon, the classroom filled with students, all sporting the same thick cotton long-sleeve button-up and tie. This was a fancy school after all, and they needed to look the part. Futaro felt a familiar tightening in his chest. It wasn't that he disliked the other kids he taught-he genuinely cared about their education and well-being. But the chaotic energy they brought with them, amplifying the cacophony of voices, laughter, and teenage hormones, made him feel like he'd rather be anywhere else. He often wondered if he'd ever get over it. Everything else got easier the longer he taught, Why shouldn't this? But it's been three years since he began teaching, and those same nervous jitters had never truly gone away.

"Alright, everyone, settle down," Futaro called out, trying to regain some semblance of control over the room. The students gradually quieted down, returning to their seats and preparing for the lesson ahead. As Futaro surveyed the room, he mentally prepared himself for another day of teaching English, all the while secretly yearning for the peace and quiet of his empty apartment.

"Today, we're going to discuss the use of metaphors in English literature," he began, launching into his lesson with practiced ease. The students listened attentively, taking notes and occasionally asking questions. Futaro answered them all with a patience that belied his introverted nature, hiding his discomfort behind a veil of professionalism.