Two days later, in the faculty office, Nanae Mizuki, assistant homeroom teacher for Class 2-B, froze at the sudden responsibility thrust upon her.
"Career counseling?" she stammered.
"Yeah, I'd do it, but I'm swamped," Matsuda said, scratching his stubbly chin from his chair. He patted her shoulder. "You're gonna have to handle student counseling eventually, Mizuki. Think of it as practice. First-semester sessions aren't that critical anyway."
"Y-yes, sir…" As the youngest teacher and a rookie, "yes" was her only response.
It made sense—she had fewer classes than Matsuda, the school's sole history teacher, who was buried in lessons and prep for multiple grades. Still, logic didn't ease the emotional weight of the task. Sighing, Mizuki slumped at her desk. Fine! If I'm doing this, I'll do it right, Nanae!
She flipped open Class 2-B's attendance roster, listed in hiragana order from 1 to 26. The photos, taken during first year, showed slightly younger faces. "Number 1, Aizawa Minami. Number 2, Akagi Shun…" Three weeks into the semester, she hadn't memorized all the names but was trying. By mid-May, maybe?
"Number 11, Sakamoto Ryuji…" Her finger traced down to the last entry, the only name in katakana, making him number 26: Kim Yuseong. His freshman photo surprised her—he was fit but not the muscle-bound giant he was now. What happened in a year?
Teachers' rosters included student notes. Reading Yuseong's, Mizuki gasped aloud, "No way! Top of the class?!"
Heads turned in the faculty office. "Sorry! Sorry! Didn't mean to!" she apologized, sweating. Calming down, she read on: Full scholarship, freshman representative, never lost top rank, student council secretary, diligent attitude, honestly nothing to teach… Matsuda's final comment resonated—she nodded, then frowned. Is that yakuza heir rumor true?
No rumor spreads without a spark, but Yuseong's stellar record left little to critique. For a third-week teacher, he was a headache. How could she, barely managing herself, guide a prodigy like him? After agonizing, she decided to dive in. Whatever, it'll work out!
***
Wednesday lunch break buzzed with Golden Week nearing. After eating with student council pals, I returned to 2-B to find the class rep scrawling "Career Counseling" on the board.
"Already that time, huh?" Karen, who'd grown closer since Saturday's chaos, muttered. She'd stopped by to see Rika and spotted the board.
Career counseling. I hadn't thought much about my future since landing in this manga world. Back in my old life, I'd have sleepwalked into a local tech college and a grad school grind. But with my grades and physique here? I could do anything.
"Ryu-chan, what's your dream?" Rika asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Dunno. Maybe take over my parents' restaurant."
"Lame! I thought you'd say 'world's strongest man' or something," she teased.
"What manga's that from now?" I deadpanned.
Grinning, she shoved her Jump at me, showing a ripped dude raising a fist in a wasteland. "New fighting series! Super good, read it!"
"Sure." I rolled my eyes.
Karen, eavesdropping, chimed in. "Your family runs a restaurant, right? What's on the menu?"
"Yakiniku, Korean food, plus simple stuff customers ask for."
"Nice. Your cooking skills must be genetic," she said, nodding from her perch on a desk. Her skirt-and-spats combo was so casual it was hard to know where to look.
"Come by sometime. Friends get VIP treatment."
"Totally! His mom's chueotang is amazing!" Rika piped up.
"Chueo-what?" Karen's face went blank, like a cat seeing a UFO.
"Not what you're thinking. Chill, Karen," I said, resetting her. Glancing at the clock, lunch was nearly over. Kids from other classes were trickling back, so we said bye to Karen. "Good luck with counseling."
"You too." Ding-dong. Fifth period started.
***
At Ichijo Academy, Wednesday's fifth and sixth periods were for self-development—usually self-study, but sometimes career counseling or guest lectures. As promised, students were called by roster number to the second-year faculty office starting fifth period. Guess I'm last.
With nothing to study, I skimmed Rika's Jump. Counseling took 5 to 8 minutes per student, sometimes longer if chats dragged. With 26 kids, even at 5 minutes each, that's 130 minutes. Add 10-minute breaks, and time runs tight—some sessions would be rushed.
"Sakamoto, you're up," the rep called as sixth period began, about 80 minutes before my turn. I'd likely miss the start of after-school activities in seventh period. Better warn the student council president or VP I'd be late due to counseling.
After two grueling hours, Mizuki finished counseling number 25, Maiya Yaguchi, and collapsed against her desk, drained. "It's 3:10. Seventh period's starting soon."
One student left—the final boss: Kim Yuseong. Come on, Nanae! You got this! She slapped her cheeks, steeling herself, and stared at the office door.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. Scrape. Yuseong entered, and the room's temperature seemed to drop three degrees. "C-come in!" Mizuki said, forcing a smile, her head craning up.
He's huge! Seeing him up close, not from the lectern, threw her. His height dwarfed her expectations. Thud! Thud! Thud! Was that her heartbeat or his heavy steps? One thing was clear: she'd been naive. This is impossible!
She wanted to bolt.
Mizuki's on the verge of a meltdown, and I haven't even said a word. Her fear's almost funny, but I get it—my rep's a beast. Karen's bouncing back, joking with Rika like Saturday's heartbreak never happened. Ryuji's back in class, quiet but fine. Those punks are gone for good, and Naoto's yakuza probably think I'm a samurai reincarnate.
Career counseling's a wildcard. I don't have a plan, but I'm not sweating it. Mizuki, though? She might pass out before we start. Just another day as an extra in this manga madness.