Sasaki and Peeps - Volume 6 - Chapter 1.1

<The Neighbor’s POV>

I’ve only just moved in, and today is already my first day of class.

My new school is pretty far from the mansion I’ll be living in, though, so walking there isn’t realistic. And since I live up on a forested mountain, the road back is a steep climb, making biking difficult as well.

Futarishizuka suggested having someone pick me up and take me there and back. I used to avoid all forms of exercise to try to preserve as many calories as I could, so I think I’m pretty physically weak compared to other kids in my grade. I’d rather not get hurt and cause even more trouble for Futarishizuka and my neighbor, so I decided to simply take her up on the offer. Yesterday, she sent a message with the details to the phone she’d given me.

I wait at the front entrance of my mansion, all ready to go. And just like she said it would, a car rolls up at the agreed-upon time.

I thought for sure it was going to be a taxi. But instead, it’s an expensive car with a boxy design. I’m not familiar with cars, but the shape alone tells me it probably cost a lot. It’s painted all black and has tinted windows so you can’t see the inside.

Isn’t this the kind of car yakuza bosses and company presidents use? I think.

Sitting in the driver’s seat is an elderly gentleman wearing a clean, well-fitted suit. He prompts me to get in, so I climb into the back seat, and the car starts again without me having to tell him where I’m going. Apparently, he’s already been informed. It seems Futarishizuka ordered him to be my chauffeur wherever I need to go, not just to school and back.

With this, I have a new contact in my smartphone’s address book to use whenever I need to go somewhere. What am I, some kind of rich girl? Everything is so different from the life I was living just a couple days ago. It’s all so confusing.

Abaddon is with me in the car, too. He floated after me and got into the vehicle. Other people can’t see him, so he didn’t scare the driver or anything. That said, having to listen in silence to his sarcastic chatter the whole way is really annoying.

We eventually arrive at a public middle school in town. True to what I was told, it really is just a normal school. And that’s exactly why, as we pass the uniformed students on their morning commute and pull up to the front gates, we draw attention. There’s only one person here still wearing the uniform from her previous school.

“Looks like they’re all watching you, huh?” Abaddon says with an air of detachment.

“……”

I ignore him and decide to make my way to the faculty room. I start at the teachers’ entrance and plot a course into the building.

As I set foot inside, a male teacher in the entrance hall calls out to me. It seems that news of my out-of-season transfer has already spread through the faculty. I nod back to him, and he takes me to the faculty room. There, I’m introduced to my homeroom teacher. He’s somewhat younger than my neighbor—taller, too, with sharper features. I assume others would categorize him as fairly attractive. He smiles the whole time.

He explains a bunch of things and gives me several textbooks. This school has three classes per grade, and I’ve been assigned to class 1-A. When the bell rings, we leave the faculty room and make our way to my new classroom.

Abaddon follows me like he always does. He hovers right next to me, peering this way and that, studying the inside of the school. He was just as restless at my previous school, at least when we first met. When I ask, he tells me he’s getting a read on the building’s layout. His fixation on the death game never seems to wane.

Eventually, we arrive. My teacher goes in first, instructing me to wait in the hallway for a moment. The classroom, once noisy, quiets down as morning homeroom begins. A few moments later, the teacher tells me to come inside. I do as he instructs and enter through the door in front of me.

Immediately, I’m faced with a barrage of comments and first impressions from the students I’ll be sharing a class with from today on.

“For real? She’s supercute!”

“Is it just me or is she kinda hot?”

“That uniform must be from her old school.”

“Wait, is she the one who came here in that car?”

“The one driving totally looked like a butler.”

“Whoa, is she rich or something?”

The quiet classroom quickly erupts into chatter.

The teacher quiets them down by saying, “Kurosu, please introduce yourself to the class. Feel free to use the blackboard.”

“Yes, sir.”

As instructed, I write my name on the blackboard. If I was Futarishizuka, I would have added my hobbies or something to give the class a good idea of what I’m all about. And she definitely would have thrown in a fun little anecdote. But I don’t have anything to tell them except my name, so I simply write it out in chalk.

“My name is Kurosu. I moved here from Tokyo because of my family,” I say, keeping the reason for my transfer vague. I don’t want to stand out. Hopefully, I can spend my time in the corner in peace and quiet like I did at my last school. “I hope we can get along,” I finish, bowing deeply.

Immediately, the other kids chime in.

“Tell us what you’re into, Kurosu!”

“Do you have a favorite TV show or musician?”

“Did you already decide if you’re joining a club?”

“Tell me about the man who drove you here! I’m super curious.”

“Are you from a rich family?”

“My, aren’t we popular?” quips Abaddon.

I almost respond to him. He’s still bobbing up and down in the air next to me. But if I do that, everyone will start thinking I’m a weirdo, so I swallow my words and glance over at the teacher.

He looks at the rowdy students and says in a troubled voice, “You’re overwhelming her. Let’s have questions one at a time.”

The kids here seem to trust their teacher quite a bit, because they all do as he says, visibly calming down in a matter of moments. Come to think of it, his colleagues in the faculty room seemed to be partial to him as well.

I begin to wonder if I’m getting some special treatment. Maybe Futarishizuka said something to the school’s representative. I remember hearing a rumor that teachers assigned to the first class of each grade tend to be talented.

“What’s your favorite hobby, Kurosu?” one student asks.

“I like to read.”

“What books do you like?”

“I read pretty much anything in the school library.”

“Where’s your new house? Oh, sorry if that’s a weird question!”

“It’s a ways up the mountain.”

“I heard you came to school by car. That true?”

“My house is far away, so yes, I’m being driven here.”

I wonder why they’re all so interested in someone like me.

They continue asking questions, and I continue answering until, eventually, morning homeroom ends.