Life In The Reverse World

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The moment he stepped onto the rooftop, the sweltering late-spring breeze came rushing at him along with gentle sunlight, crashing into him like a wave. It felt as if his whole body had been plunged into a bathtub brimming with hot water. Harutaki squinted slightly, lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the blazing sun overhead, glaring like a bathroom heat lamp. Only after a moment did he lower his hand, having finally adjusted.

Click.

The crisp metallic snap of a lighter being flipped open rang out across the quiet rooftop, warm enough to make one want to take a nap.

“So,” came a lazy voice, “what kind of trouble have you dragged me into this time, Hoshikawa?”

Asama-sensei was leaning in his usual spot.

Resting against the stone railing, he pulled a blue cigarette pack from his pocket, calmly lit a SEVEN STARS, took a long, satisfied drag, and only then spoke.

“You should know about Shihou’s situation and where she went, right, Asama-sensei?”

When Harutaki finished speaking, the rooftop seemed to sink back into the silence it had known before anyone arrived. The only sound was the faint sizzling of the SEVEN STARS burning.

After waiting a while without getting a response, his already anxious mood became even harder to suppress.

“Sensei, don’t tell me you just used this as an excuse to come up here and smoke a few extra cigarettes?”

“Huh? You figured that out too? Impressive.”

Ahhh… this middle-aged chain-smoking bastard is really something.

He wanted to mock him like he always did, but with a favor to ask, he swallowed his irritation, forced himself to take a deep breath, then slowly exhaled to calm down.

“Finally cooled your head?” Asama-sensei said. “I told you before to stay home and properly review your Japanese. So tell me—what’s the fastest way to get to Ōtsu City?”

“Take the Shinkansen?”

Harutaki couldn’t figure out why the teacher suddenly brought up something so completely unrelated.

He had a vague guess, but wasn’t sure.

Thump.

“Hey, old man, corporal punishment of students is something I can report to the board of education, you know.”

Rubbing the spot where he’d been knocked on the head, Harutaki felt oddly lighter, as if that single blow had knocked some of the burden off his shoulders, letting a bit of clarity seep back into his head through the dent.

“In the past, the fastest way to reach Ōtsu was to avoid Lake Biwa, even though it’s the shortest route.”

“You could’ve just said ‘haste makes waste,’ you know?”

He weakly complained—and immediately earned another flick to the head.

“Hey, brat, did you forget what my job is?”

Like hell there’s any dignity in a teacher like you…

Seeing that Harutaki had stopped rushing him, Asama-sensei smacked his lips in satisfaction and continued.

“Lake Biwa is close, and crossing it by boat is fast, but mountain winds often stir up the lake and capsize boats. So the truly fastest route is to go around the lake along the shore. I don’t need to spell out what that proverb is really getting at, do I?”

“Yeah… I guess I lost my composure a bit…”

Harutaki nodded.

“But I’ll give you this,” Asama-sensei added. “At least you were smart enough to come ask a teacher for help.”

“Then you can help me, right?”

“What a joke.”

Asama-sensei shot him a look like he was an idiot, his tone tinged with something between self-mockery and helplessness.

“A teacher is just a teacher. Even the prime minister has countless things he can’t accomplish. Let alone a mere high school teacher.”

“But you knew what I was going to ask and didn’t refuse outright. That means you definitely have the ability to help me.”

“Tch… sharp little bastard…”

Thanks for the compliment, but clicking your tongue at a student twice in a row is really unbecoming of a teacher, don’t you think?

Asama-sensei irritably stubbed out the cigarette that was almost finished, pulled a portable ashtray from his pocket to crush it out completely, and only then spoke again.

“A doctor’s kid becomes a doctor. A chef’s kid becomes a chef. A carpenter’s kid becomes a carpenter. The Eastern Nation prides itself on being an ‘equal-wealth society,’ but in reality, the moment you’re born, your class in life is already decided. People from the same circle support each other, seize power, and push out all outsiders. That’s the essence of elite families and old aristocratic clans.”

“Come on… don’t dump something this heavy, grim, and cruel on a student who’s still full of hope for life and the world…”

“Picking a fight with one person is easy. You punch me, I punch you. But Hoshikawa, do you know what happens when you pick a fight with an elite family?”

Asama-sensei didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer. He continued on his own.

“All it takes is one sentence, and you’re cut from school interviews for ‘various reasons.’ Your job prospects get sabotaged. Even your family and relatives get dragged in and suffer for no reason at all.”

“But—”

“The Nogami incident gave you quite a confidence boost, didn’t it? But once you calm down, do you really still have the courage to stand against a powerful family?”

Confidence? Courage?

Harutaki took a deep breath, then nodded.

“I’m just pursuing something normally. What’s there to be afraid of?”

And besides, he thought, as the “benefactor” who saved Chouko from a scumbag, he wasn’t exactly standing in direct opposition to the Shihou family.

But after waiting a moment, what he got wasn’t ridicule or admonishment—it was a faceful of cigarette smoke.

Asama-sensei hooked an arm around Harutaki’s neck, yanking him under his armpit, and shook him violently. One struggled desperately, the other gritted his teeth, clothes in disarray. From a distance, it probably looked like they were wrestling or practicing judo.

“You damn womanizing scumbag! You already have a top-tier rich young lady in both looks and body, and you still go after a second big-boobed JK princess! Have you ever thought about the feelings of a single middle-aged man?!”

“I’m dying, I’m dying—! You being a slob who can’t get a girlfriend is your own problem! Maybe stop blowing money at red-light districts and save up to clean yourself up first!”

“No way! A guy who wants to hug pretty girls left and right in high school could never understand the gentleness and consideration of working women! Damn normie, go die!”

“What kind of gloomy shut-in incel did you crawl out of, you old man?!”

After the chaos, Harutaki plopped down on the ground and straightened his collar, while Asama-sensei collapsed against the railing, limbs limp, panting.

“What kind of monster high schooler are you… where does that strength even come from…”

“If you don’t have the stamina, how are you supposed to hug girls on both sides? I’m not like you, Sensei, thinking all day about ‘training’ with working women.”

“You dare tell dirty jokes to your teacher. Very good. Hoshikawa, you’re getting a three-way meeting. I’ll call your parents later.”

Honestly, the one who can say things that shamelessly is the one who should be calling the police.

Harutaki’s mouth twitched, unsure where to even begin complaining.

“The least qualified person to say that is you, Asama-sensei. Can we please talk about how you’re going to help me already?”

“Hmph. Anyone who denies my qualifications as a teacher doesn’t get my help.”

Unbelievable. This old man really is as shameless as ever.

“Ugh… please, Asama-sensei, help your student!”

Harutaki gave him a sloppy bow and said irritably.

“Sigh—” The lazy middle-aged man let out a long breath. “—Even knowing that one wrong choice could make your future miserable, you’re still going to keep walking this path, Hoshikawa?”

“Before Apollo 11 landed on the moon, nobody thought it would succeed. Even now, plenty of people still think it never did.”

“Apollo 1 killed everyone onboard. But… if you’ve really decided, then go all out.”

So even Asama-sensei isn’t—

With a bitter smile, Harutaki was about to give up pressing further when he froze. He turned in surprise toward Asama-sensei, who had already pulled out another SEVEN STARS, flicking his lighter to spark a flame.

“By your logic, shouldn’t you be stopping me, Sensei?”

“Eh… does it really matter that much what other people say? In the end, what matters most is your own will and your own choice.”

“But you’re a teacher. Aren’t teachers supposed to stop students from going down the wrong path and force them back onto the ‘right’ one?”

Harutaki couldn’t quite understand Asama-sensei’s thinking. In his experience, teachers were the kind of people who, the moment a student made a mistake, would scold them harshly and force them back onto what the teacher—and society—considered the correct path.

At least, most of the teachers he’d encountered over twelve years had been like that.

He didn’t think those teachers were wrong either. When faced with a massive student body, individual factors inevitably get minimized… or even ignored entirely.

“Hah. Wrong path? Right path? Wrong for whom, and right for whom?” Asama-sensei said. “If all we wanted was to mass-produce identical robots, sure, that’d be fine. But teaching isn’t such a simple job, kid.”

That’s true.

Watching the look of reflection on Asama-sensei’s face, Harutaki felt something stir inside him. He chose to trust this seemingly sloppy and lazy, yet genuinely reliable and responsible middle-aged man. He stopped chasing answers and instead calmed himself to listen.

Judging by appearances has its uses, but you can’t let appearances trap your perspective.

Maybe he once had an arrogant sense of superiority born from exceptional talent—but that had been shattered long ago, mostly beaten out of him when he lost a promotion match in a Go tournament.

“You’re right.”

“Once you put on the ‘teacher’ hat, you’re responsible every year for dozens, even hundreds of students’ lives. Each of them has their own personality, likes, dislikes, strengths, and flaws. And the most basic duty of a teacher is to help them graduate smoothly, get into the schools they want, pursue the careers they want, and fulfill the dreams they’ve held onto all along…”

As he spoke, Asama-sensei took a drag from a cigarette that was already half-burned yet barely smoked, muttered, “What a waste,” and continued.

“But that’s only a dream every teacher has—a dream that stays a dream. In reality, some people fall like scattering cherry blossoms, others abandon their ideals entirely under the weight of reality. Sure, some do succeed, but behind every success are countless others’ frustration, failure, and regret.”

(“Sakura chiru”: since enrollment happens in April, those who fail to get in are likened to falling cherry blossoms, while those who pass are said to bloom.)

Asama-sensei tilted his head back and blew out a smoke ring like a goldfish, once again completely shapeless. The loose ring immediately dissolved into a thin mist and vanished into the air.

Even so, even without a perfect smoke ring, Harutaki thought the man looked incredibly cool right now.

“I don’t want to give up my choice. What do you think I should do, Asama-sensei?”

“Hey, Hoshikawa, are you okay in the head?”

If wanting to hug girls on both sides and build a harem counts as abnormal, Harutaki thought, then yeah, maybe his head really was a bit off.

“You’re asking a forty-year-old single guy who goes to red-light districts for advice on romance? Pfft… that’s the funniest joke I’ve heard all month.”

“You saying that just gives me even more things to complain about.”

“Maybe there are teachers who can help you make the ‘correct’ choice, but I’ll go ahead and say I’m not one of them. How many teachers in this world really have enough life experience and judgment to guide students properly?” Asama-sensei paused, then continued solemnly. “You already have a clear will and a clear goal… as long as you don’t regret your choice, that’s enough.”

“Letting you stubbornly walk the path you chose—that’s the only thing I can do as a teacher.”

So damn cool…

He didn’t say it out loud, but in his heart, Harutaki truly respected and trusted Asama-sensei.

As the man’s low voice echoed in his ears, the last trace of hesitation in Harutaki’s heart vanished completely, like cigarette smoke dispersing into nothing.

“I already made my decision, and I’ll never regret it. If anything, if I chickened out now, I’d definitely regret it someday in the future.”

“In that case… hmm—”

Asama-sensei raised his left arm to glance at his watch, biting down on the cigarette that was about to burn out.

“—When Shihou was brought by her parents to handle her transfer paperwork, I accidentally—yeah, accidentally—overheard them. They were talking a bit too loudly… Seems like it’s the NOZOMI departing from Tokyo Station at eleven. As for Shihou’s transfer documents, I think I misplaced them. Probably won’t be able to find them for at least a week.”

“Thank you, Asama-sensei… I’m taking a sick day today.”

After bowing deeply once more, Harutaki glanced at his watch—

9:31. Plenty of time to reach Tokyo Station before eleven.

“I don’t care what you do outside of school. Just know your limits. If you lose control, die somewhere far away from me—don’t get blood on me.”

The middle-aged man waved him off with a look of disgust, telling him to hurry up and leave. Just as Harutaki was about to step off the rooftop, that lazy voice drifted over again from behind him.

“If you really want to thank me, introduce me to a JK who likes cool middle-aged guys.”

“Please be mindful of your position, Asama-sensei.”

…