Ch. 16 - Unreliable Asama-Sensei

“Harutaki! Harutaki!”

The moment he saw Akihisa’s chubby face rushing toward him in a panic right after the first period, Harutaki had a bad feeling.

With Nogami’s troublesome personality, just dumping his desk in the girls’ restroom had been way too tame. There was no way she’d stop there.

Sure enough, Akihisa shoved his phone under Harutaki’s nose.

[2-3’s Hoshikawa Harutaki is a sleazy scumbag!]

No surprises there.

Harutaki shrugged at the eye-catching headline and skimmed the rest. The content? The same cookie-cutter smear-piece format from his previous life—full of holes, short on “evidence.”

Like a chat log screenshot with no context.

Like a blurry security cam image with two censored blobs.

The post accused him of confessing to Nogami in private, getting rejected, then immediately confessing to her friend. When she hesitated to turn him down, he supposedly forced himself on her by grabbing her chest.

At least Nogami hadn’t uploaded that photo. Whether out of concern for Sae’s reputation or simply because she thought she didn’t need it, Harutaki couldn’t be sure.

“Yeah, I saw this coming. Put it away.”

After speed-reading the smear post, he waved Akihisa off. He didn’t even need to check the replies to know exactly how they’d read.

[Never heard of this guy lol. Who’s dumb enough to confess to Nogami?]

[Gotta be a masochist, right? wwww]

“Wait, there’s another thread… oh crap, Harutaki, your photo’s up now.”

Akihisa’s voice carried a note of worry.

Did you really have to read the replies out loud, one by one?!

[Handsome and a masochist? Damn. Maybe he’s into guys, too?]

[Heard he went limp with his ex. Still a virgin, LOL.]

—What ex?! Limp where?! Want me to drop my pants and prove otherwise?!

[Yesterday, people said they heard pig squeals coming from Class 2-3. Bet it was him, wwww.]

Akihisa, you’re killing me here.

“Ahem.”

Harutaki coughed loudly. Jolted, Akihisa hurriedly closed the site, bowing his head and mumbling apologies.

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to read it out! Don’t take it to heart, Harutaki…”

Trying to make up for it, Akihisa offered quickly:

“Want me to defend you? You’ve never used the school’s anonymous board, right?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll handle it. Let them talk all they want.”

Patting Akihisa’s shoulder, Harutaki reassured him.

Truthfully, though, seeing that post had already given him an idea.

So what if it was just fabricated “evidence” and group isolation tactics?

The school’s anonymous board was nothing new. It was the same as those old message boards like 5ch from his previous life; once popular, then notorious for enabling bullying, eventually fading away.

But bullying doesn’t disappear just because the platform does.

It only changes form, spreading into new spaces.

In this world, Twitter, LINE, and other SNS platforms made it all too easy for someone’s real identity to be exposed. A slip-up here, a reflection in someone’s eye, a glimpse of scenery through a window, and suddenly strangers knew where you lived.

That kind of digging was called “unmasking” or “doxxing” in his previous life.

So, compared to that, smearing people on an old-school anonymous board was practically harmless.

History had gone full circle.

“Akihisa, send me the board’s URL.”

“You’re not actually gonna…?”

“I won’t waste time bickering with the mobs. But that doesn’t mean I won’t use the tools at hand.”

With that, Harutaki bookmarked the site.

What, write a little essay? Please. Two can play that game.

Nogami might have the upper hand with her status, but even ants can bring down an elephant if there are enough of them. Ironically, her smear tactics had inspired him. She’d gone public, backing her “story” with her identity. Harutaki, though… wasn’t above using more underhanded tricks.

…

The last period before lunch was Japanese, taught by their homeroom teacher, Asama. Just as Harutaki was about to head to the cafeteria, Asama-sensei quietly appeared at his side.

“Come with me.”

A hand on his shoulder, spoken in a low voice.

Had word of Nogami’s bullying reached Asama-sensei already?

Puzzled, Harutaki followed. He expected to go to the guidance office, but instead, they climbed two flights of stairs until they reached a chained-off door.

Clatter.

Asama-sensei fished out a keyring from his pocket and unlocked it with practiced ease. Bright sunlight poured into the dim stairwell as the door swung open.

“Up we go. You know how it is. Whether in movies, novels, or manga, the rooftop’s always the best place to talk.”

“I thought the school rules banned students from the roof?”

After several incidents at other schools, Nichiya High had sealed off its rooftop entirely, forbidding student access.

“You said students. I’m a teacher. Rules don’t apply to me.”

The man waved him up.

But the second Harutaki stepped through, Asama-sensei’s lazy drawl drifted in: “Well, well. Caught red-handed breaking school rules right in front of your homeroom teacher, eh?”

Harutaki: …?

You were the one who brought me here!

“If you don’t want disciplinary action, better start talking.”

Leaning against the stone railing like some middle-aged NEET, Asama-sensei’s tone was irritatingly casual.

“If Murai hadn’t tipped me off, I wouldn’t even know this was going on in my class.”

“You really are an unreliable teacher.”

Mimicking him, Harutaki leaned against the railing too. From there, the empty schoolyard spread out below them, bathed in the gentle spring noon.

The breeze was warm, refreshing. Some of the irritation Nogami had caused eased away, replaced with a strange sense of peace.

So this was Asama-sensei’s intent.

He looked like a laid-back mess, but the man had a sharp eye. And Ren, despite folding under Nogami’s pressure, had found another way to help—by reporting to someone who could intervene.

Most victims of bullying avoided adults out of fear: fear of being dismissed, fear of hearing “why are you the one being bullied?” Ren must’ve known Asama-sensei well enough after a year to trust him with this.

“Unreliable or not, when a student’s getting pushed around, it’s still my job to step in.”

Asama fished into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

Click.

“Hey! Even if you’re unreliable, you’re still a teacher. You can’t smoke at school!”

“Want one? Great stress relief.”

Watching the man blow smoke like it was nothing, whatever faint respect Harutaki had just felt… vanished with the haze.

“Since you called me up here, Sensei, I assume you’ve got a solution?”

After a stretch of silence, Harutaki couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You seem to have a bit too much faith in teachers. This job’s not something normal people can handle, but that doesn’t mean I can work miracles.”

Asama-sensei flicked ash off the edge of the railing, praying it didn’t land on some poor kid’s head below.

“Try a search engine. Look up the name ‘Nogami.’”

At that, Harutaki froze. He’d been so caught up speculating about Nogami’s powerful background that it hadn’t even occurred to him to just… Google it.

For an average family, there’d be nothing online. But someone like Nogami Izumi, throwing her weight around at a prestigious school in Minato Ward, Tokyo, without consequence? That should be easy to trace.

Sure enough, he tapped the first result, only to slam the screen shut after barely three lines.

[Nogami Eiji, 46 years old. Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretary…]

“…So? Welcome to the reality of teaching at a ‘celebrity school.’”

“Compared to you, Asama-sensei, I’m the one who should be whining about whether I ought to pack up and emigrate, don’t you think?”

Harutaki tried to laugh it off.

“Ever thought about transferring classes?”

“As long as Nogami remembers me, it won’t matter where I go.”

“Then what are you planning to do?”

Asama-sensei ground the cigarette butt out on the railing with a sigh.

“…Can I fight back?”

“Knowing who her dad is?”

“This is a society of law, isn’t it?”

“…”

No answer. Harutaki turned and found Asama-sensei staring at him with the bleary eyes of a man who looked at idiots for a living.

“Tch. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

“It’s just kids’ games anyway, no big deal. Relax, Sensei.”

“Well, since you are calling me Sensei… part of the job is pulling students back from the cliff’s edge. Do as you like. When this little ‘game’ needs to end, I’ll be the one to say so.”

And with that, Asama-sensei fell silent.

From his perspective, a bullied student who could stay this calm after learning the bully’s father was a high-ranking politician was usually either hopelessly naïve or a bottler who kept everything locked inside.

But Harutaki was clearly neither.

Still, worried about his student’s mental state, Asama-sensei tried offering:

“If it gets too heavy, don’t hold it in. Tell me, and I’ll take you somewhere nice to blow off steam.”

“…I’ll pass on a date with some scruffy NEET-looking uncle, thanks. And I’m underage, in case you forgot.”

“Who said anything about drinking? I’m talking about a trip to the red-light district. Nothing beats that for stress relief.”

Harutaki: !?

Did you seriously just recommend a brothel to your own student?!

“Ugh, it’s been two weeks since I went to ‘Wanna Try a JK Today?’ in Yoshiwara. Bringing you along would bleed my wallet dry…”

“Sorry, I’ve still got the luxury of being surrounded by actual JKs.”

Flat rejection.

Between his three little sisters and Nogami’s clique of three, he’d had more than enough of schoolgirls. Paying for “discount versions” held no appeal.

“Well then, if you know any JKs who like older men, introduce me, will you?”

“Go ahead and jump, you degenerate. For the record, I already got to touch a real JK’s chest yesterday: Nogami’s best friend, at that.”

“…So the forum rumors were true?”

Asama-sensei leaned in, curious.

“You really went limp with your ex mid-act?”

“Hsshh—if the school already knows what the anonymous forum is like, why don’t they just shut it down?”

Harutaki decided to ignore that infuriating slander and steered the conversation back to the forum.

Asama-sensei didn’t answer him directly. Instead, he threw the question back:

“If a trash can that’s always overflowing suddenly vanished from the street, what do you think the street would look like?”

Obviously, the anonymous forum was that “trash can”, a place where students could vent their stress and discontent.

“Isn’t there any other way?”

“Wherever there are people, there’ll be conflict. As for solutions? Maybe someday, but for now, definitely not. If you don’t like it, change it yourself, boy.”

“Spare me, Asama-sensei. I don’t feel like starring in the next hot-button drama series or becoming some handy precedent in court rulings.”

With a sigh, Harutaki grumbled his complaint.

No matter how many anti-bullying films or preachy dramas humanity made, the only real lesson people ever learned from history was that they never learned a damn thing.

After warming himself on the rooftop breeze for a while longer, Asama-sensei finished his second cigarette, stretched, and gave the student beside him a hearty slap on the back.

“Alright, off you go. After lunch, there’s still a bit of time for a nap—don’t waste your youth hanging around a thirty-something old man. And hey, if it ever gets too much, come find me. I’ll take you to a soapland for a bubble bath. With a regular’s referral, both sides get a discount.”

“But remember to bring your own cash, I’m not treating… oh, and don’t even think about stealing Fang-chan from my reservation list.”

Thus spoke the scumbag teacher.

“Don’t worry, Asama-sensei. I’ll be sure to grope the deputy’s daughter’s chest with all my might.”

“Then make sure you write down your impressions afterward and let your Japanese teacher polish it up. I’ll be happy to critique it for you.”

He waved lazily at Harutaki as the boy left the rooftop. Only when the student’s figure had vanished completely did Asama-sensei’s perpetually languid expression tighten into something troubled.

After hesitating, he finally pulled out his phone and dialed a number that had been in his contacts for years but never once used.

“Hello? This is Nogami Eiji.”

“Mr. Nogami, sorry to bother you. It’s Masayuki Asama, your daughter’s homeroom teacher—”

“Ah, thank you for your hard work, Asama-sensei. Has Izumi gotten into trouble again?”

“No, no… It’s just that a few things have happened at school these past couple of days…”

Asama-sensei explained the situation regarding Nogami Izumi, even hinting that the bullied student might retaliate. He assumed a politician like Nogami would surely find a way to defuse the conflict.

“Let the kids play it out.”

“…Huh?”

“As long as no one dies, I’d actually like to see what happens when Izumi, who’s had everything her way, finally gets a taste of payback. Hah! If she comes crying and calling for Daddy as she runs home, all the better.”

On the other end, Mr. Nogami burst into a booming laugh, leaving Asama-sensei at a loss for how to respond.

“Anyway, I’ll have to trouble you to keep the fallout contained to within the school. Any compensation afterwards, I’ll handle.”

With that, Mr. Nogami hung up, giving Asama-sensei no chance to decline.

“Unbelievable… this is what it means to be a teacher at a top school, huh…”

Asama-sensei gave a bitter smile and sighed. After deciding he’d pass the message along to the boy later, he immediately dialed another number—

“Hello? Can you book me an appointment with Fang-chan? Is she free at eight-thirty tonight?”

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