Sasaki and Peeps - Volume 8 - Chapter 2.2

As Type Twelve promised, we arrived at the bureau in only a few minutes. The section chief grabbed us right away and led us into a meeting room. After reflecting on yesterday’s meeting, I went for the seat next to Mr. Akutsu on the side of the table facing the door. Ms. Futarishizuka, Miss Hoshizaki, and Type Twelve took up their positions across from me.

“Why are you sitting on this side, Sasaki?” the boss immediately asked.

“Four to one side is a little crowded, sir.”

“Oh, for a moment, I thought you’d had a change of heart.”

Miss Hoshizaki stared at me. “Sasaki, don’t tell me you actually had your sights set on the section chief—”

“I have no ulterior motives. And please, comments like those will sabotage our friendly work environment.”

“Anyway, please return to your usual seat,” said Mr. Akutsu. “My laptop has confidential information on it.”

“Oh… Yes, sir.”

I stood back up nearly as quickly as I had sat down.

“Confidential, eh?” mused Ms. Futarishizuka. “That means very little with our youngest daughter here.”

“Nevertheless, I can’t start openly sharing it with my subordinates, Futarishizuka.”

In the end, I had to sit in the same place as yesterday. Once we were all settled, the meeting began.

Type Twelve spoke before anyone else. “Akutsu, I would like to hear your plan for enrolling me at school without further delay.”

Her tone was flat and impassive, and her face was blank. But the fact that she’d spoken first without wasting any time on pleasantries made her feelings obvious. The chief must have picked up on this as well, and he responded with a nod.

“To start with, I’ve prepared your family register. Would you like to verify the information on it?” he asked, taking a piece of printer paper folded into thirds out of the inside breast pocket of his suit. He spread it out neatly and pushed it toward Type Twelve.

The paper, with its familiar design, looked like any other official copy of a family register. It included her entire household. The bureau was listed as her permanent address. And under the title “head of the family” was the name Twelve Sasaki, just as we’d decided the day before.

The other fields, such as “spouse,” were left blank; Type Twelve had the whole register to herself. I was relieved to find it didn’t link back to my own family register.

“Wow. Guess it’s pretty easy to make one of these things, huh?” commented Miss Hoshizaki.

“Like hell it is!” Ms. Futarishizuka shot back.

“This is a special exception, Hoshizaki,” said Mr. Akutsu. “I had to strongarm several organizations to acquire this.”

“You’re being annoying, Futarishizuka,” said Miss Hoshizaki. “Why do you have to nag me about every little thing?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have to nag if you’d stop speaking without thinking, girlie.”

I suspected Mr. Akutsu got help from some minister or other and resolved the matter with a show of force. At the very least, he couldn’t have managed it alone.

That meant quite a few individuals and groups were now anticipating Type Twelve’s naturalization and attendance at school. I didn’t know what exactly they were anticipating, but I felt certain all sorts of people were drawing up plans for after she enrolled.

What a mess.

As her temporary guardian, my duty was to send my daughter to school right away. Once I’d managed that, I intended to enjoy the good life: eat, sleep, rinse, repeat. Instead of soaps, I’d subscribe to some streaming services. A smorgasbord of movies, TV shows, and anime awaited me.

“I’ve confirmed that data equivalent to that presented on this page exists in the administrative systems of the district responsible for this legal address. This family register has been logged into the database. I hereby judge this document to be valid under the laws of this country.”

“Hey,” said Ms. Futarishizuka. “Didn’t we already talk about this? Stuff like that is against family rules.”

“I have not violated the privacy of any family member. Therefore, I am in compliance with the rules.”

“Hmph. I guess you’ve got me there.”

“Sasaki?” said Mr. Akutsu. “Did she just…?”

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but it seems we can’t do anything to stop her.”

“……”

Even at this very moment, Type Twelve was likely using a separate group of machines to hack into humanity’s networks—specifically those of various government administrations. It had taken her mere minutes just now. Our information systems must have been like toys to her.

The boss, having caught on, made a sour face. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much we could do. If we tried to force the issue, we could wind up with another crater to deal with.

One of us, however, was an exception.

“Hey, Type Twelve? Would you mind not doing that as much from now on?” asked our senior colleague.

“The youngest daughter is happy to consider any request from Mother.”

“I see,” said the chief. “She really has taken a liking to Hoshizaki.”

Though she’d reacted with stubbornness to Ms. Futarishizuka, she was instantly willing to reconsider when the one making the request was Miss Hoshizaki. Mr. Akutsu seemed impressed. We’d mentioned their relationship in many reports, but this was the first time he was seeing the effects in person.

“Hoshizaki,” he continued, “while your familial relationship may be artificial, you’re nonetheless doing extremely important work for us, and I hear this experience is valuable for the girl as well. I want you to keep being a good mother to her.”

“And make sure you keep her on a tight leash,” was the obvious implication.

I wasn’t sure if Hoshizaki had understood the unspoken part. Nevertheless, she objected. “Chief, I’m not sure someone my age should be playing the role of a mother.”

“Yes, it may be hard for you to fulfill such obligations at your age. Put another way, it means this work is beyond the scope of your regular duties as a bureau employee. I was thinking perhaps extra pay is in order to compensate you for your participation in this pretend family.”

“I’ll… I’ll do my best, sir!”

Miss Hoshizaki was such a pushover. I was pretty sure that if she asked Type Twelve for help, she could get way more money than what the bureau was paying her. Earth’s financial institutions were powerless before the mechanical life-form’s technological might. Earlier that very day, Ms. Futarishizuka informed me that cryptocurrency had been in an uncontrolled nosedive for days.

I’d checked, and sure enough, the news had been reporting several fatal or near-fatal accidents every day. I even saw one incident where three people all jumped in front of a single train.

And yet our pure, upright colleague was prepared to do her best as a mere bureau employee. Did she have her eyes on a promotion, or was it her respect for Type Twelve that prevented her from reaching further? I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but it seemed this path was the one that would make her happiest.

A moment later, Futarishizuka spoke. “I don’t think you’d have to bother calculating wages if you just asked the youngest daughter. You’d be making money hand over fist.” Evidently, she’d been thinking along the same lines as I had.

“Um, what? No thanks. Begging a child for money is just about the worst thing a parent can do.”

I sensed a hint of her relationship with her own father in her response. Her sister had told me that the man was up to his neck in debt at one point and that he’d visited the Hoshizaki siblings after they’d moved out. The experience of being saddled with a parent’s financial debt had probably made her extra sensitive about such things.

“Mother, your principles have left a deep impression on your youngest daughter.”

“I, er, I’m not just saying that for your sake, okay? This is an important rule I’ve always had. I don’t ever want to break it, even if we’re not a real family. I wasn’t trying to curry favor with you or anything.”

Normally, a father’s influence tended to make a child loose with their money as well. Surprisingly few were able to keep using their no-good father as an example of how not to live their lives. But Miss Hoshizaki was working hard to accomplish just that. I figured her little sister served as a good impetus to stay on track.

“Should you require it, I am willing to prepare any amount of local currency or other resources for your use.”

“Like I said, no thanks.”

“Did she just say ‘resources’?” repeated Ms. Futarishizuka. “That rather terrifies me.”

Type Twelve’s reach extended beyond Earth to the moon and even to other planets. In fact, she’d told us our whole solar system was already under development. The translators we used to talk to Lady Elsa were made on our very own Luna. Mining the asteroid belt for resources and bringing them to Earth would probably be trivial for her. If she ever brought in a load of precious metals from the stars, our planet’s economy was in for absolute chaos. I found myself agreeing with Ms. Futarishizuka on the matter.

“I believe I have a better grasp on your intentions now, Hoshizaki,” said Mr. Akutsu. “I’ll send you the paperwork regarding your wages and bonus pay after our meeting. Please look them over this evening at your leisure. If necessary, we can arrange to negotiate the matter further.”

“Thank you, Chief.”

“Getting back on topic, that’s all for the family register,” said Mr. Akutsu, turning to Type Twelve. “Next, I’d like to explain what going to school will look like for you. But if you have questions about anything we’ve already discussed, please say so now.”

“I have no questions,” Type Twelve said in a rush. “I would like your explanation of how I will go to school at once.”

“Understood.”

The section chief nodded and opened up his laptop. It was already connected to an external screen. With a few keystrokes and moves on the trackpad, his desktop was output to the display hanging on the conference room wall right next to the meeting table.

We could see what looked like a presentation slide. The name of a certain middle school served as the title. Underneath was a photograph of a building taken from the front, along with several pieces of information about the school. If memory served, this was the same school my neighbor currently attended—the public middle school closest to Ms. Futarishizuka’s villa.

“You seemed to be in quite a rush,” said Mr. Akutsu, “so I mobilized all related agencies to take care of your enrollment. If you wish, you can attend school as early as today. The textbooks and other materials you’ll need are ready for you there.”

“I wish to be assigned the to the institution’s lowest academic grade. In addition, I will be happiest if I am able to commute to the same classroom as the eldest daughter.”

“I thought you’d say that, so that’s how we set it up.”

“Akutsu, that is excellent.”

“I am honored to be of service.”

I hadn’t expected the enrollment process to be finished today. Did Mr. Akutsu pull an all-nighter for this? It probably wasn’t just him, either—a whole mountain of personnel must have been forced to work through the night, all so that Type Twelve could go to school. As the one playing her father, this knowledge made me somewhat anxious.

“Mother, the youngest daughter would like to go to school immediately,” said Type Twelve.

“I can take her there, Chief,” said Miss Hoshizaki. “But are you sure we should just…go straight there? I mean, if you say it’s all right, it probably is. But she’s really worked up about it…”

Miss Hoshizaki cast a worried gaze at Mr. Akutsu. She was probably envisioning a scenario where Type Twelve took one look at the classroom and decided to go home immediately.

The boss, however, responded with confidence. “There’s no need for concern. I’d like you to head out as soon as possible.”

From this line of conversation, I got a good idea of what was going on. There must have been bureau employees already on-site in some capacity or other. In that case, we could feel safe leaving Type Twelve alone.

He was right—there was nothing for us to worry about. The chief would be responsible for supervising her while she was at school.

“Should we stand by at the villa, then, Ms. Futarishizuka?” I asked.

“Yes, I think that would be wise,” she said. “It will allow us to reach the school quickly if any problems arise. And one of the most important tasks of a grandmother is to do chores around the house while waiting for her granddaughter to return.”

“I agree completely.”

My neighbor and Abaddon would be at school, too. They would be sure to contact us if anything happened. At last, Peeps and I had obtained the laid-back life of our dreams here on Earth, as well.

“Actually,” said Mr. Akutsu, “I have another job I’d like to entrust to the two of you.”

Perhaps I’d spoken too soon.

The boss looked at the two of us, a trace of irritation in his usual poker face.

“What? Come on. That sounds like a huge drag,” Ms. Futarishizuka complained.

“Excuse me, sir, but you did tell us that the pretend family was part of our work,” I reminded him.

“While Type Twelve is attending school, you two are to join the faculty.”

What a suggestion! Keeping an eye on her was one thing, but joining the faculty? That sounded difficult.

“Are you telling us to become schoolteachers?” asked the girl in the kimono.

“That’s right, Futarishizuka,” the section chief replied.

“Sir, I don’t have a teaching license,” I said.

“Oh, me neither!” added Futarishizuka. “No teaching license here.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said the boss. “We’ll supply you with special licenses.”

“No, no. We can’t have a career bureaucrat risking his future by gaming the system.”

“According to the Education Personnel Certification Act, Article 5, Item 2, a special teacher’s certificate may be bestowed upon anyone who has passed a teaching exam given by the educational committee in any of Japan’s administrative districts. Sasaki, Futarishizuka, congratulations. You have successfully passed the exam administered by Nagano’s educational committee.”

“I don’t remember taking that exam…,” I said.

If he said we’d passed based on our educational history, employment experience, and work achievements, then I’d have no way to object. Apparently, according to the law, the only requirement was to pass an exam. Nowhere did it say that exam had to be a written test.

Despite this, Ms. Futarishizuka immediately protested. “Oh, don’t quote law to me,” she said. “Under Article 5, Item 4, of the same statute, when deciding if someone passes or fails the exam described in Item 2, the body awarding the certificate, as defined in Item 6, must consult with individuals with an academic background in education as well as other persons as stipulated by the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology!”

What the heck? I thought. That was so cool!

However, this impression was short-lived.

“No need to worry,” said the chief. “We have all the paperwork ready.”

He then fiddled with his laptop and displayed several documents. One of them was an attestation of character, another was a testimonial of our work, and yet another was a certificate of our academic ability—they all had stiff, formal titles. Each time the section chief’s finger stroked the trackpad, another document appeared on the screen.

There were two sets, one for each of us. The reference fields on all of them were handwritten, and I spotted the signatures of a university president, a doctor at a university hospital, and even the director of the National Police Agency among them. Weren’t these things usually issued electronically? They must have been in even more of a rush than I’d thought. I caught the name of a college sprinkled here and there as well. It was, without a doubt, my alma mater.

Ms. Futarishizuka watched the documents scroll across the screen, utterly baffled. “Nice, uh, rebuttal…”

“I want the two of you to stay close and support Type Twelve while she’s at school,” he told us.

I never would have imagined he could put something like this together in one night. The government must have wanted Type Twelve to attend school as much as she did.

“Sasaki, you will teach math,” he continued. “Futarishizuka, you will teach English.”

“Ms. Futarishizuka will probably be fine,” I said. “But, sir, I’m hardly cut out to be a teacher.”

“Hey!” exclaimed my colleague. “Are you trying to throw me under the bus?! How could you?!”

“I understand your concerns, Sasaki,” replied the chief. “But when you joined this bureau, you were asked to take several tests. After reviewing your results, I decided you were fit for this task. You may take the teacher’s lectern with confidence.”

I did remember taking a bunch of tests. But I didn’t think they’d come back to haunt me like this. At the time, I was just hoping to avoid fighting on the front lines as a psychic, so I’d done my best to answer all the questions. In hindsight, I probably would have been better off blowing through them without much thought.

“Being able to solve a few math problems won’t make me a good math teacher, sir,” I said. “These students’ futures are at stake here. I would be lowering the quality of their education. That’s…bad, isn’t it?”

“We can have a veteran faculty member assist you during class if needed, just like a student teacher. You won’t have any problems. Besides, you were a part-time tutor during college. I’m sure you’re fit for the job.”

I was flabbergasted. He’d looked into my part-time job history from over fifteen years ago? How was I supposed to respond to that?

“But if you aren’t happy with math, I can assign you to a different subject.”

“…No, sir, that won’t be necessary.”

He’d done far too much prep work. I didn’t stand a chance. Mr. Akutsu was always outdoing me like this. I would never beat him with ad-libbed excuses.

“Um, Chief?” asked Miss Hoshizaki. “What should I do?”

“I want you to keep up with your schoolwork, Hoshizaki,” he replied.

“Huh?”

“I think you’ve been working far too hard on your bureau assignments lately. And I feel bad about that. I don’t want you neglecting your job, but your education is just as important. Go and enjoy life at school for a while.”

“But, uh, wait! I’m part of the family, too. There must be something I can do on-site!”

Bureau employees under the age of eighteen were still entitled to pay while attending school. However, that only applied to the base salary, so you’d be making less than if you were out doing bureau work. And you wouldn’t get a single yen of overtime or hazard pay.

This must have been a catastrophe for Miss Hoshizaki. Desperately, she tried to object. But Mr. Akutsu’s response was thoroughly reasonable and realistic.

“I’m very happy you’re so enthusiastic,” he said. “But after checking with your school, your academic abilities don’t quite meet the standards required to serve as a teacher. I’d like you to keep improving your fundamental knowledge instead.”

“High school isn’t compulsory. That means what I’m learning now isn’t strictly necessary!”

“Perhaps, but everyone goes to college in Japan these days. If you are able to prove to me, here and now, that your academic abilities are on par with a college graduate, I will look into placing you at the school as a teacher. Do you have a subject you’re particularly good at?”

Lately, Miss Hoshizaki had been dragging her feet regarding her education. Any normal person would have shut right up in this situation. Unfortunately, her obsession with money spurred her on regardless.

“I’m…I’m good at P.E.!” she stammered.

“Then let me ask you a question,” said the boss. “In relay races, what is the name of the zone where you’re allowed to pass the baton?”

“Huh? I, uh…the passing area?”

“It’s called the changeover box, Hoshizaki.”

“One more try! Please give me one more chance!”

“Then here’s a question from the guidelines for preventing heatstroke during physical activity. What are the maximum heat index and WBGT allowed for vigorous exercise before an activity must be called off, as described in the regulations? In addition, how many minutes are appropriate for a rest period once an activity has been canceled?”

“Um…”

Mr. Akutsu really had her on the ropes now. He’d probably planned out questions in advance, knowing they might have a pop quiz session like this. With how smart he was, he could probably pull something like this together with one hand tied behind his back.

My senior colleague looked so sad I couldn’t stop myself from stepping in. “Miss Hoshizaki, maybe you shouldn’t invite him to rub more salt in your wounds.”

“Please! This is only a scratch!”

“Are you sure you don’t have a bullet wound straight through your heart?” replied Ms. Futarishizuka.

Thinking back, Mr. Akutsu said he’d graduated valedictorian from Japan’s foremost academic institution. Debating someone of his caliber was actually a very rare and valuable experience. His efforts were really highlighting how reckless Hoshizaki’s proposal was.

It was barely even a contest, which was a little sad. Miss Hoshizaki too seemed to understand this and began trying a different approach. “In that case, uh… I could go there as a student. I was in middle school until last year, so it wouldn’t be that weird. No one would guess I’m any older than that Kurosu girl!”

“It’s a bit cringe to get so desperate,” Ms. Futarishizuka said.

The next one to speak was Type Twelve. Until now, she’d unconditionally supported Miss Hoshizaki in everything. But this time, for whatever reason, she admonished her slightly.

“Mother, the youngest daughter wants you to enjoy yourself at your real school.”

“But—”

“To explain in more concrete terms, a situation wherein a mother and daughter attend the same school would be strange. I am aware that our family is not real. However, I strongly wish to maintain a minimal semblance of reality.”

“Ugh…”

The mechanical life-form couldn’t lie—and that made her words hit even harder.

Type Twelve had sought a certain amount of realism when it came to the relationship between her mother and grandmother as well. She’d put a great deal of work into making our house and the surrounding area feel like the real thing, too. I could tell she had a lot of ideas about how a family ought to be.

Miss Hoshizaki was struck speechless. We waited a few moments, but she gave no response.

The section chief took the opportunity to speak up. “If that’s all, then—Sasaki, Futarishizuka—please head to the school at once.”

I’d come into the office this morning expecting to have the afternoon off and several days’ vacation, so my despair was considerable. Now that my short stays in the otherworld were only happening every few days, I’d have to wake up early tomorrow and the next day. Teachers all had to be out of bed super early in the morning. But if I wanted to keep my position at the bureau, I couldn’t afford to refuse.

“Is there anything we should bring with us, sir?” I asked.

“I dispatched another employee there last night. We’ve also secured a collaborator. You’ll find them in the faculty room, ready to handle all your paperwork. Leave the finer points to them while you focus on supporting Type Twelve.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best,” I said.

“You might not look it,” remarked Ms. Futarishizuka. “But I bet you’re pretty excited for a little schoolyard romance with those middle school girls.”

“Why on Earth would I be interested in that?” I asked.

“As long as you do your job properly, I wouldn’t be averse to overlooking a few things,” said Mr. Akutsu.

“Sir, I’m a little concerned you’re serious,” I replied. “Could you please not encourage her?”

“Give it up for Lolicon Teacher Sasaki!” cheered the girl in the kimono.

“Ms. Futarishizuka, if you keep saying awful things like that, I—”

“Or LTS for short! You can write that on the blackboard in big honkin’ letters!”

“Hey, Futarishizuka?” said Miss Hoshizaki. “I think there’s something moving on the back of your hand…”

“What?! You have to be kidding! Just for that?!”

Ms. Futarishizuka hid the back of her hand immediately. The curse had only spread by a few millimeters, but it had progressed—the bruise Peeps had carved into her skin was still squirming slightly.

The section chief probably couldn’t see it from the other side of the table. “What seems to be the problem, Futarishizuka?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing at all, sir! Nothing at all.”

It was still in the very early stages, so I didn’t think she needed to worry yet. Apparently, the bruise would have to spread a lot further to activate the curse. Lately, she’d been getting a little bold, though, so I figured the incident would serve as a good warning for her.

She was probably just irritated that the life of leisure we’d been dreaming of had been so suddenly snatched away and she’d let a comment slip that went over the line. That kind of one-liner might have been considered a lighthearted joke a few decades ago, but these days, such accusations were more powerful than a lit explosive. A few too many “jokes” and you could blow a person’s social life to smithereens. Futarishizuka must have understood this, too, and that realization had triggered the curse.

With our meeting over, we prepared for our next task—teaching schoolchildren.