The Life You Live

Chapter 2

Bunji arose the next morning as if attuned to the circadian rhythm, up and at them fifteen minutes before his alarm went off. During that time, he showered and dressed in his typical business wear, making it a point to pull his hair back into a loose plait before heading downstairs to the kitchen were his sweet little Miiho awaited.

When he stepped around the corner, she stopped drinking her water and lifted her bum off the floor so she could trot over and weave between his ankles, her long tail lifted with a curl at the end as she greeted him with a mewl. It was a morning ritual they had. Such that Bunji wore a smile as he fed her and made his own breakfast; rice with a fried egg on top with two strips of beef and a bowl of fruit. Though he didn’t necessarily need to eat, it was for taste pleasure alone and he whipped up a quick bento before leaving for work.

His arrival at school was fairly typical. He’d dipped into the staff room to grab some items, made chit chat with Miss Orohime, and returned to his sect of the building; stopping by the headmaster’s office for a quick favor before taking on the morning class, the late morning class, and finally, Senior elective—falling into the rhythm of work like he had every day for the last three years.

It kept his mind busy and offered the satisfaction of contributing to the mortal future. Many of his ‘colleagues’ never seemed to understand this.

Bunji, among his people, was often referred to as a ‘mortal lover’ because of the time he dedicated to their education. In some regards this was spoken as an insult, and in others, with a sense of respectable regard, and those thoughts moved behind his eyes when the bell for electives rang.

His concentrated, ‘busy’ look had eventually faded, giving way to his traditional smile and discerning eye when the ten students filed in without so much as an instruction to head to there seats and he greeted them as they greeted him, looking at Kaya when she too spoke. “Good afternoon Miss Okane,” he replied. Then, he went through roll call and let the students practice, saying, “just call me over if you need help.” Once or twice he popped over to a student to correct posture or give them advice but for the most part, remained at his desk, shuffling through some Ensemble notes from Miss Orohime when Kaya moved over.

Excuse me, Sensei Iehiro, do you have any blank composition paper I could purchase?

After striking down some notes of his own, Bunji set his pen down and nodded, indigo meeting emerald. “I do,” he replied. “You are in luck. I do not usually bring any with me.”

Turning his office chair toward the computer, Bunji bent forward and picked up his leather briefcase. He popped it open and shuffled through some papers before he could cleanly grab his composition folder and set the case down. He wheeled back to the desk, set it down, and flopped it open. It was a two panel folder. On one side, there was ‘work in progress’ pieces for piano and harp, and on the other side, blank composition paper. After leafing through about ten pages, he withdrew it from the folder—which he closed—and slid them to Kaya. “They’re a dime a dozen, don’t worry about paying me,” he replied with his typical smile. “How are you managing with the harp? Have you chosen an audition piece yet?”

. . . . .

Okane was further grateful for his generosity, when she watched him pull out composition paper that clearly was for his personal use. She opened her mouth to object about not paying him the dime, but half second later closed it and said, "Thank you, Sensei Iehiro. I appreciate your willingness and generosity."

He smiled, it was his typical smile that she had heard during her first year of high school from other female students idol him over, along with other features. It was a notable feature, she realized.