Sasaki and Peeps - Volume 8 - Chapter 3.1

<The Neighbor’s POV>

My classmates make a lot of noise during morning homeroom.

They can’t stop talking about the arrest we saw yesterday. Our homeroom teacher got dragged away by the police right in front of us. His hands were cuffed, and he was even restrained with a rope wrapped around his waist, so there could be no doubt as to his situation.

Naturally, his former students can’t stop themselves from discussing what happened.

“Do you really think Mr. Takahashi won’t show up?”

“How’s he supposed to come to school? He got arrested. He doesn’t have time to teach class.”

“But I didn’t see anything about him on the news.”

“I tried looking, too. But I didn’t find anything.”

“Maybe we’re too far out in the boonies for a school scandal to make the news.”

“I don’t know…”

“What’s gonna happen with morning homeroom?”

“Maybe the vice principal will come like yesterday.”

“Ugh. I hope not. He never shuts up.”

“I hope we get a teacher who’s young and pretty.”

“All the young female teachers already have classes.”

“What about Ms. Mochizuki, the Japanese teacher? I don’t think she’s in charge of a class.”

“Ms. Mochizuki? Yes, please.”

Considering the circumstances, it would be natural for the vice principal to take over for now.

If they don’t handle things right, the school could face a lot of criticism—especially since the incident involved indecent acts with a student. They’ll probably use the students’ mental health as an excuse and put us through some program to keep us from saying anything suspicious outside of school or spreading information on the internet.

But no matter how long we wait, the vice principal never comes. The other students are all very interested in who our next homeroom teacher will be.

“Hey, did you hear a loli teacher came to school today?”

“Uh, what? What does that even mean?”

“I know someone who saw her in the faculty room. She’s a little kid!”

“You don’t mean a lolicon teacher, right?”

“Miyata’s still out, isn’t she?”

“I bet she’ll transfer.”

“I heard the loli teacher’s gonna teach English!”

“What the heck does that word even mean?!”

It seems like our school has a new teacher. They sure found a replacement fast; they must have been planning for it beforehand. The term loli teacher concerns me, but I figure they’re just talking about a petite woman. There’s no need to think too deeply about it.

“Which teacher do you want for our class, Kurosu?”

“You just moved here, so you probably don’t know many of them.”

“Oh, hey, then why don’t we tell you about all of them after class?!”

“That’s a good idea. I’m in!”

“Yeah! Can we come, too?”

“Where should we go? It should be somewhere outside of school, right?”

The same group of students as usual are making a fuss around my seat. They’ve decided to tell me about our school’s teachers. While I have no desire whatsoever to get chummy with my classmates, the information could be valuable, so I agree.

A little while later, the bell rings, indicating the start of morning homeroom.

The students whiling away their time in the hallway and around the classroom make their way back to their assigned seats. The ones gathered around me do the same. Everyone’s still chatting, but at a much lower volume.

A few moments later, we hear the clacking of footsteps from the hallway—several sets of them, in fact. They stop in front of our classroom.

I can sense multiple people just outside the door. Ever since joining the proxy war, I’ve become able to do things like sense other people’s presences. Though, when I put it that way, it makes me sound like some comic book nerd, and I feel a little embarrassed. There’s a kid who talks like that all the time in our class.

Suddenly, something occurs to me.

My mind flashes back to last night, when we discussed a certain transfer student over dinner. Yes, a mechanical life-form beyond human comprehension—a visitor from the far reaches of outer space. And it seems like she’ll be joining us in Class 1-A. It’s a little silly for me to use the word “seems,” though, isn’t it? After all, I’m the reason she’s here in the first place.

“What’s this? Could that be the transfer student? Already?”

“……”

Abaddon is right. It seems too early.

But considering all the incidents I’ve witnessed so far, and the fact that Futarishizuka and my neighbor are involved, it doesn’t seem that impossible. It didn’t take long for them to enroll me here, either.

With a clatter, the door slides open, and the Japanese teacher—Ms. Mochizuki—enters the room. She’s the one my classmates were just talking about.

She closes the door behind her and approaches the teacher’s desk. The students watch her, waiting with bated breath.

“Good morning, everyone,” she says. “Before we start homeroom, I have an announcement to make. Mr. Takahashi, the former teacher for Class 1-A, has decided to leave school for a while due to various circumstances.”

Everyone expected this, and the responses come thick and fast.

“I have a question! Is it true that Mr. Takahashi got arrested for sexual misconduct?”

“Everyone at school is talking about how he was having sex with Miyata!”

“Did you know about them, Ms. Mochizuki?”

“What was their relationship like? Were they lovers?”

“Quiet! Everyone, please settle down!”

The students think they can walk all over Ms. Mochizuki.

They’re a lot more casual than they were with the vice principal yesterday. The boys are especially enthusiastic. Most of the time, we’re just listening to lectures, so they probably love any chance to let loose.

Ms. Mochizuki manages to quiet them down and continues. “Anyway, since Mr. Takahashi is out, Class 1-A will be assigned a new teacher. I’ll introduce him now.”

Apparently, she isn’t our new homeroom teacher. But then why is she here?

“Huh? Aww, I thought you were gonna be our teacher, Ms. Mochizuki!”

“Why do you need to introduce him?”

“Is it someone we don’t know?”

“Yeah! I want Ms. Mochizuki to be our teacher!”

“Yeah, I’d rather have you, Ms. Mochizuki!”

“Are you into middle school boys, Ms. Mochizuki?”

The students pump out a rapid-fire stream of doubts and concerns.

The answer to their questions comes a moment later when Ms. Mochizuki turns toward the hall and calls out, “Please come in, Mr. Sasaki.”

The classroom’s front door slides open again and who should step in from the hallway but my neighbor. What is he doing here, pretending to be a teacher?

He’s wearing the same suit and tie I’m so used to seeing him in as he makes his way inside. He politely closes the door, then moves next to the teacher’s desk and Ms. Mochizuki.

He stops there, and she proceeds to introduce him. “This is Mr. Sasaki. He will be leading Class 1-A from today forward.”

I knew the robot girl would be showing up, but this takes me completely by surprise. I never guessed I’d ever be able to gaze at my neighbor in a place like this.

“Mr. Sasaki? I don’t remember him being at our school before.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“Did he just get hired?”

“Maybe that’s why Ms. Mochizuki is introducing him.”

“Why does he need another teacher to introduce him?”

“There’s been a teacher shortage lately. Maybe he’s a mid-term hire.”

“Oh, I heard about that on the news.”

My classmates immediately start making a fuss. Ms. Mochizuki ignores them and turns to my neighbor. “Please introduce yourself, Mr. Sasaki.”

And then, in a familiar, calm tone, he speaks.

“Thank you, Ms. Mochizuki. My name is Mr. Sasaki. I’ll be in charge of Class 1-A starting today in place of Mr. Takahashi, who is currently out. I teach math. I look forward to getting to know you all.”

He acts completely natural. If memory serves, he has no experience standing at a lectern. But he doesn’t appear nervous at all, which amazes me. We might all be kids, but there’s almost forty of us, and we’re all looking at him. And he doesn’t even flinch.

“I wish we got Ms. Mochizuki instead!”

“It’s not too late, Ms. Mochizuki! Please change your mind!”

“We’d all have so much fun if you were Class 1-A’s teacher, Ms. Mochizuki.”

“Ugh, stupid boys! Don’t be mean to Mr. Sasaki.”

“Personally, I wish he were younger and hotter.”

“I just hope he’s not another lolicon.”

The students hit him with some pretty harsh criticism. We may all be in middle school, but it’s only the winter of our first year. Once one kid gets carried away, all the others jump on the bandwagon. Their comments are a little over the line—though I can’t really talk since I’m in the same position as they are.

These stupid, noisy monkeys, I think. I wish I could get Abaddon to transform into meat mode and devour them all. Also, I personally hope he is a lolicon.

My neighbor responds to the clumsy crowd of children in a cool, unconcerned way.

“There is something I’d like to tell you all right up front. This will be the first class I’ve taught after receiving my teaching license. And so Ms. Mochizuki—who has more experience—will be supporting me as an assistant teacher.” He glances at her, and she nods.

I hate how they seem to be on the same wavelength.

“Huh? For real? Maybe I’m okay with Mr. Sasaki, then.”

“We’ve never had an assistant teacher before, have we?”

“It must be a special thing since he’s a new teacher.”

“He looks a lot older than her, though.”

“Mr. Sasaki! We know Ms. Mochizuki is young and pretty, but don’t sexually harass her, okay?”

“You saying that is sexual harassment, stupid.”

Now that the students know my neighbor is new to this, they start making banter. Where is the class rep? I wonder. This would be the perfect time to settle everyone down.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” my neighbor continues, “I have an announcement. A new transfer student will be joining us starting today. We don’t have much time left in homeroom, so please quiet down a little. Otherwise, you’ll cause trouble for her.”

The students all stop talking immediately. The word “transfer student” must have done the trick.

“Twelve, please come in.”

A moment later, the classroom’s front door slides open yet again, and in steps the transfer student in question.

With her sleek, silver, waist-length hair swaying to and fro, she gallantly approaches the lectern. She’s wearing our school’s uniform, though I’m not sure when she got one. She has the school’s designated shoes and bag, too.

She stops next to my neighbor. Everyone’s attention is locked on the robot girl.

“Please introduce yourself to the class, Twelve.”

“I understand, Father.”

Her off-handed remark sparks a stir throughout the classroom. They’re probably reacting to the word father.

“My name is Twelve Sasaki. I came to this country because of my parents’ jobs. I will be joining this class starting today. I am not good at very many things, but I hope we can get along and be friends.”

Neither she nor my neighbor mentions the whole “mechanical life-form” thing. It’s my neighbor’s job to cover up strange, mysterious phenomena like that; he’d never out her as a UFO. Just last night, we all had a big family meeting about it.

This was all planned out in advance. Robot Girl—looking for all the world like a normal foreigner—was to come to my school in the guise of a child returning to her home country. To everyone else, she is my neighbor’s adoptive daughter. It seems like they’re keeping her younger-than-average mother a secret.

“We just got a new teacher. And now there’s a new girl, too?”

“This is the most information-packed homeroom ever.”

“Wait, are you her dad, Mr. Sasaki?”

“I thought I read once that they don’t let parents teach their kids’ classes.”

“Hey, isn’t she the one who was with Kurosu before?”

“Does that mean Kurosu knows Mr. Sasaki, too?”

Every last student is talking about Robot Girl. They’re more interested in the visibly attractive transfer student than my boring-looking neighbor, as demonstrated by the startling gap in their responses. It seems she’s especially popular with the boys, judging by their comments.

In the meantime, the bell rings to mark the end of homeroom.

“Let’s see. I’d like…,” my neighbor says, his gaze shifting over to me, “…Kurosu and her friends to help our new student with anything she needs. I hear you recently transferred here, too, Kurosu. You’re in similar situations, so I hope you and your friends can all get along with her.”

“Okay,” I answer immediately—we decided this in advance. My goal is to win points with him by taking care of the robot girl.

“And if anyone thinks they’re strong enough,” he continues, “I’d like some help bringing in a desk and chair for Twelve. Two people, if possible.”

“Me! Me, me! I’ll help you!”

“Oh! I’ll help, too!”

My neighbor heads out of the classroom with two boys in tow. I’m impressed. He’s handling the students well despite being a new teacher. Ms. Mochizuki watches them leave the room.

Without wasting a moment, a bunch of kids leap out of their seats and surround Robot Girl.

“Nice to meet you! You’re not from Japan, right? Where are you from?”

“You were with Kurosu before, right? Are you two friends?”

“Do you have all your textbooks? If not, you should tell the teacher.”

“Your hair is so pretty. What shampoo do you use?”

“Come on, guys. If you all speak at once, she won’t be able to hear anyone.”

They’re swarming her even more than they swarmed me when I transferred in. It’s probably because of how pretty she is. Well, until she starts speaking. The girls seem to like her, and the boys definitely do. Intervening would be a lot of work, so I stay outside their circle and stand by in case something happens. The plan is to have Abaddon handle things if she gets out of control.

“So this is school,” she says. “Ah, how this place soothes the heart.”

Robot Girl herself appears to be on cloud nine. Her heart is warmed right up as all the other kids fawn over her. While her expression is impassive as always, I can see a slight twitch at the corners of her mouth. She must be desperately holding in her excitement.

“Your last name is Sasaki, right? That might get confusing since our teacher has the same name.”

“Yeah. Can we call you Twelve?”

“Oh, but we won’t force you if you don’t like it.”

“Do you have a nickname? If it’s okay, would you tell us what it is?”

“What does your family usually call you, Sasaki?”

“You may designate me Twelve. That is what my family calls me.”

As far as I can tell, the robot girl is communicating just fine with our classmates. I decide I’m not needed and go back to my seat.

“Okay, then we’ll call you Twelve!”

“That’s kind of a weird name, though.”

“I think it’s cute and unique.”

“Hey! Are you trying to hit on her?”

“What? With her dad here? No way.”

“Yeah, but if it works out, you might even get his approval.”

“Ha-ha, I know how that one ends. He’ll start deducting points from your grades.”

After a little while, the two boys who left with my neighbor come back, carrying Robot Girl’s desk. My neighbor has her chair.

Once the items are in place and ready, first period begins.