Chapter 160 Reunion (Illustration)
Chapter 160 Reunion
"I was happy. Sad. Guilty. Afraid."
"I wanted to cry—to yell—but I did nothing."
"I faltered."
Alessandra arrived at Ashikawa High School—her new workplace—on her first day as a teacher, wearing a tracksuit. A sports backpack hung from one shoulder.
She had already attended orientation days before classes began, so she knew exactly what to do. She was familiar with the students’ gym uniform and had even asked for permission to wear the same one herself.
She wanted the students to feel close to her—to see her as someone relatable, someone they could trust.
After changing into a white top and blue athletic shorts, she entered the gymnasium with a clipboard in hand, the class list clipped neatly at the top.
She was nervous.
But she was ready.
Soon, the students began to file in.
Loud and full of energy.
She stepped forward and blew her whistle sharply.
“Okay, everyone, gather around!” she called out. “My name is Alessandra Mamoru, and I’m your new Physical Education teacher. It’s nice to meet you all!”
She offered a bright smile.
“This is my first year teaching, so I hope we can get along well!”
To her relief, the students warmed up to her quickly. She kept her composure, guided the warm-ups, and delivered the lesson smoothly.
Before she realized it, the class was over. She smiled—it hadn’t felt like a job at all.
When the bell rang for the changing period, she glanced down at her clipboard.
The next group’s attendance sheet wasn’t there.
“…It’s not here. But I definitely have a second period.”
After a quick trip to the office, she returned with the correct roster and headed back to the gym.
When she entered, the students were already inside.
She blew the whistle.
“Gather around,” she said, introducing herself.
“I only have a few rules: be kind to your classmates—I won’t tolerate any bullying. And do your best with the exercises. They’re good for you, and I want everyone to participate.”
Her voice was steady,
her smile genuine.
For the first time in a long while,
she felt like she was moving forward—
doing something meaningful.
Then she began roll call.
“Akasa.”
“Here.”
“Kobayashi.”
“Here.”
Her tone remained cheerful—until her eyes reached the next name.
“Iryoku… Taiyou…”
Her voice wavered.
Her eyes widened.
A sharp pain pierced her chest, stealing her breath. The gym seemed to tilt as memories crashed into her all at once.
No response.
She scanned the group, eyes searching for him.
Nothing.
Her heart pounded harder.
Am I imagining this…?
She looked back down at the paper.
“Iryoku Taiyou,” she said again.
The name was still there.
Not a mistake.
Her lips parted as she called out loudly, “Has anyone seen Iryoku Taiyou…?!”
“Shut up already. I’m here. Just get it over with!”
The voice was deep.
Rough.
Nothing like the one she remembered.
She turned slowly.
She had expected to see a small boy with a warm smile.
Instead, someone rose from the benches.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
His uniform was messy, his posture loose—mean eyes locked onto hers without a trace of warmth. She remembered those eyes; they had once looked tired, but kind.
Now he looked hardened—
predatory,
exuding danger.
Angry.
Like someone who had endured far too much, ready to jump and attack the instant you got too close.
Her legs nearly gave out.
…Iryoku.
He dropped back onto the bench with an irritated click of his tongue.
The gym fell silent. Nervous glances spread as the students nearest to him stepped away.
Alessandra’s mind went blank.
But she forced herself to continue the roll call. Her eyes stayed fixed on the clipboard, trying not to look—trying not to face him.
When she finished and began explaining the exercises, she finally glanced back toward the benches.
He was gone.
…Am I dreaming?
She nearly fainted where she stood.
Is he gone again? Has he disappeared?
The rest of the class passed in a blur. Her mind was in constant turmoil—too many emotions crashing into her at once. Thankfully, she was pulled out of it during one of her next classes.
She noticed a short girl with glasses being harassed. Another girl loomed too close, laughing as she reached to pull down the girl’s shorts.
Alessandra stepped in immediately, grabbing the bully’s wrist and stopping the motion cold. She positioned herself protectively in front of the girl.
The girl looked utterly defenseless, on the verge of tears.
The sight reminded Alessandra painfully of Kana—the girl she herself had once bullied.
A sharp reminder of her sins.
She had the next period free. She walked through the halls, peering into classrooms—nothing. She searched the school again and again, hoping to find him, but he was nowhere to be found.
Until lunchtime.
She moved between the cafeteria tables, scolding misbehaving students and shutting down lingering, perverted stares as she passed. Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw him—sitting alone at a table near the wall.
From her side glance, his face was partially obscured. He ate in silence. She noticed how the other students kept their distance, unwilling to get close.
Her heart lurched.
She didn’t dare turn her head. She kept walking, pretending she hadn’t noticed.
What should I do? Should I talk to him now…? No. Maybe after school. Yes—after school.
To him, she was probably nothing more than a hypocrite, pretending to be a caring teacher.
In the end, she got cold feet and didn’t go looking for him.
The next morning, he didn’t show up to her class. She stared at his name on the roster.
“Sensei, is everything okay?” one of the students asked.
“Ah—yes, I’m fine,” she said, and continued with the lesson.
After school, she went straight to the office.
She checked the student records.
What if he disappears again?
What if he moves away without a word?
She flipped through the files.
There it was—his picture.
Iryoku Taiyou — Age 20.
Of course. Eight years had passed. He would have changed—but why was he still in high school at that age? Shouldn’t he be in college by now?
She found the address.
Contact information for his parents.
Her heartbeat quickened as she copied it onto a scrap of paper.
Then her eyes drifted lower.
She kept reading.
Her breath caught.
Two years in juvenile detention.
"What could he have done to be sent there?"
Her vision blurred.
“No… no… why?” she whispered.
“This isn’t you. This isn’t who you were…”
“…This is my fault.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
“I turned you into this.”
The file didn’t explain why—and whatever it was, it couldn’t have been anything good.
Laughter and sneers suddenly pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked out through the window and recognized the small girl with glasses—Yumi. She was surrounded by several boys and girls, all harassing her.
Anger flared hot in Alessandra’s chest.
She moved outside, her steps quick and purposeful. Near the edge of the school grounds, she spotted a baseball bat. She picked it up and walked toward the group...
Over the weekend, Alessandra gathered what little courage she had and went to Iryoku’s house.
It was afternoon.
The place was much larger than the one they’d lived in before—clean, well kept, tucked away in a far nicer part of town.
She stood around the corner, staring at it.
What should I say?
Should I talk to his parents? They’d probably shut the door in my face.
She sighed.
If I were them, I’d beat the crap out of me.
The thought spiraled.
Maybe all three of them—his mom, his dad, and him together. Maybe with a baseball bat.
I’d need to be restrained first. Not able to defend myself.
That would be fair.
She hit her head lightly against the wall.
I could’ve borrowed one from the school… why didn’t I think of that?
She shook her head hard.
Don’t be stupid. If I showed up with a bat, they’d call the police and think I was some kind of criminal.
She crouched down, hugging her knees.
“…I am a criminal after all, one who never got her punishment.”
“What am I even doing?”
She turned and started to walk away.
Then she stopped.
A sound came from the house.
She turned back.
At that moment, the front door opened.
Iryoku stepped outside, dressed in sporty pants and a loose athletic shirt. His expression was unreadable.
Alessandra froze, pressing herself against the corner as he walked past—unaware of her presence.
Her heart pounded violently.
Where is he going? Is he going to do… crimes?
After a moment’s hesitation, she followed him.
Keeping her distance, she trailed behind him down the street.
She stayed far enough back to avoid being seen. By the time Iryoku arrived at a park, the sun was already beginning to sink.
It was large—filled with swings, monkey bars, and colorful play structures. A clear upgrade from the old park where they’d played as children.
Alessandra hid near the entrance, watching from the shadows.
Iryoku headed straight for the monkey bars.
He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders once, then jumped—grabbing the bar with straight arms and letting his full weight hang, stretching.
He stayed there for nearly a minute.
Then—
Up.
Down.
One pull-up.
He dropped back to the ground, resting for a moment.
Then another.
And another.
Alessandra counted silently.
One… two… three… four… five…
He let himself down again, breathing deeply, standing still for another minute.
“He’s warming up for a working set…” she whispered.
Then he pulled off his shirt.
Her eyes widened.
Even from a distance, she could see the definition across his back—strong arms, broad shoulders, thick muscle along his spine. Everything about him looked dense, trained, hardened.
But scattered across his skin were small scars.
Many of them.
Before she could think further, he jumped again and grabbed the bar.
Up.
Down.
She began counting once more.
Two… three…
Fifteen… sixteen…
He didn’t stop.
Twenty…
Twenty-five…
Thirty-two… thirty-three…
She could hardly believe what she was seeing.
"He’s doing that many… and in strict form."
Thirty-four… thirty-five…
Thirty-nine…
His arms shook violently, elbows bending halfway before he forced himself up again. Sweat drenched his body, veins standing out sharply beneath his skin.
Silently, she cheered.
You can do it…
He struggled for several seconds, caught in the same position. The fading afternoon light brushed across his body, outlining the tension in his muscles, making the effort feel heavier, his determination more stark.
He grunted hard.
And somehow—
he did it.
Forty.
The last one barely came out.
He dropped from the bar, stumbling as his legs nearly gave out. He windmilled his arms to steady himself, then collapsed onto the grass.
First sitting.
Then falling backward.
He lay there staring up at the sky, chest rising and falling hard, each breath loud and strained.
After a moment, he pushed himself upright again, still gasping. From this angle, Alessandra could finally see his face.
There was no anger there.
Only melancholy.
She watched without moving—
her heart heavy,
her chest tight,
Her thoughts were painfully tangled—between pride, sorrow, and guilt.
She wanted to run to him, to pull him into her arms, to ease his pain and console him—just like he used to do for her, back then.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she turned away…
and went home.