Episode Six: Wanting to Be Pampered ―August 2032―

“Somehow, it smells absolutely lovely.”

By the time the teacher returned from the bath, my feelings, which had been growing rather sentimental, had finally settled.

It hadn’t been intended as a surprise, but seeing the teacher’s astonished face made my cheeks relax naturally.

“This pot’s got meat and potatoes in it. I put loads of meat in.”

The meat and vegetables simmering away in soy sauce, sake, and mirin looked delicious, even without my chef’s bias.

“I know you’re probably not hungry after eating with Hisako-san, but I made loads, so have a bit each day from tomorrow onwards. I’ll put the stuff that freezes in the freezer, so don’t let it turn to stone – make sure you microwave it properly and eat it.”

After explaining all this unilaterally, it suddenly hit me. I’d been so focused on wanting the teacher to look after their health that I hadn’t considered how they might feel about it.

Just barging into the kitchen like that… maybe I was being cheeky. Was I being what you’d call “nosy” or a “clingy woman”?

…What should I do? I suddenly felt embarrassed.

“I, I just got worried about your diet, sensei. If you can’t eat home-cooked food or anything, you can just throw it away. Ah, but I did buy it with your money, so I’m not really in a position to say this. But if that’s the case, you could have just told me when I was shopping.”

“Uehara-san.”

Seeing me flustered and unsure what to say next, the teacher smiled.

“Thank you. I’m very pleased.”

From her expression and tone, I doubted it was mere politeness.

Ah, thank goodness. It seems what I did wasn’t just a selfish overreaction.

“Meat and potato stew, and what else did you make?”

“Er, macaroni salad and simmered hijiki seaweed.”

“I adore all those dishes. Might I have some now?”

“I-I suppose so… but will you have room?”

“Yes. It looks delicious, and I’d like to eat with you, Uehara-san.”

“…Is that so? Well then, go and dry your hair first. Could you help me a little afterwards?”

“Understood. I’ll hurry and dry it.”

After watching the teacher disappear into the changing room, I tried to plate up two portions of the side dishes. Glancing at the cupboard, I tilted my head in confusion.

　Plates… weren’t there? Eh? Could there really be not a single one? Were they somewhere else? Thinking it wasn’t right to rummage around the house without permission, I waited for the teacher to return, only to discover a shocking truth.

It turned out the teacher’s house didn’t have any proper crockery. Apparently, to minimise washing up, she mainly used paper plates. She said it was sufficient since she only really cooked things like rice anyway…

　She laid out the side dishes on paper plates, stocks bought in bulk from the hundred-yen shop, across the table.

“If you invited a boyfriend over, he’d probably dump you, you know?”

“I wouldn’t want a boyfriend who’d be put off by paper plates.”

“…Fair enough. He’d have to be someone who loves you completely, wouldn’t he?”

　What sort of man would love her completely? Someone like me now, perhaps – someone who’d happily share a meal with her on paper plates.

We sat facing each other across the small dining table. Seeing her posture straighten before the array of paper plates, yet her eyes sparkling, I glimpsed her earnestness and daily habits, and a smile slipped out.

“Next time, shall we go buy some crockery together? I’ll pick out something cute for you.”

“I have a feeling you’d recommend something incredibly flashy, Uehara-san.”

“I promise I’ll choose something chic and modern, yet pop and cute, that fits perfectly with this room and sensei’s style. Don’t worry.”

“…You’re teasing me because you think I don’t know what those words mean, aren’t you? Well, I don’t really understand them, but I can tell you’re messing about.”

“Ah ha, caught out? No, come on, don’t make that face! I’ll choose properly, so let’s go shopping together! Right?”

“…Very well, I’ll leave it to you. I really have no confidence in my own taste.”

Smiling and replying “Okay,” I’d subtly roped her into another arrangement. In high spirits, I opened the fridge and asked the teacher.

“Drinks? Shall we have some now?”

“Ah, yes. Cheers.”

I took the can of beer from the shelf, already warming in my hand, and handed it to the teacher. After she popped the tab, I poured oolong tea into a paper cup. Somehow, we ended up clinking our cups together and saying, “Cheers, to your hard work.”

The teacher’s pale throat moved up and down. I made another new discovery: she was someone who seemed to genuinely enjoy her drink.

“Is it tasty?”

“Yes. But toasting with a student at home… is that really appropriate?”

“You’re being too formal again. Here, eat. I reckon it’s pretty good.”

The teacher’s movements as they picked up a potato with chopsticks and brought it to their mouth were elegant. Seeing their face light up instantly upon tasting it, I was certain they liked it. Leaning forward, I asked,

“What do you think?”

“It’s delicious. Really, incredibly so. I’m amazed.”

Watching the teacher, whose vocabulary belied her role as a Japanese teacher, tuck into the dishes one after another, I felt a deep sense of fulfilment.

Perhaps it was because she usually ate dinner alone. She couldn’t help but be delighted to share her home cooking with someone after so long.

“How come you’re so good at cooking, Uehara-san?”

“Well, I was an only child raised by a single mother. Because Mum worked nights, she couldn’t prepare dinner for me after I started secondary school. So I just started making it myself.”

“…………”

…Huh? Teacher, why aren’t you saying anything?

Wondering about the suddenly serious atmosphere, I looked up from the paper plate I was holding. The teacher was looking at me with an expression more serious than usual.

“Eh? What? Did I say something weird?”

The teacher put down her chopsticks.

“Isn’t that considered neglect?”

“Eh? It’s not that serious. It’s fine, really.”

Preparing my own meals was just everyday life for me. I did get some money, after all. It wasn’t something that deserved such a grand name or concern.

　I tried to brush it off lightly, but the teacher’s expression didn’t soften.

“Victims often unconsciously avert their eyes from reality, so they can’t recognise it themselves. We should consult the appropriate authorities. I’ll accompany you.”

“It’s fine, really. Why are we talking about this? Let’s eat while it’s still warm.”

“Uehara-san.”

My words were cut off. Staring into the teacher’s clear eyes, I couldn’t move a muscle.

“Let me rephrase. I am concerned about you, Uehara-san.”

—How could I possibly describe this feeling?

Deep within my chest, there was only this relentless ache. If I put it into words, if I gave it shape, it felt like I wouldn’t be myself anymore. So I kept my mouth shut.

　Worried about me… As an adult? As a teacher? Or as someone who genuinely cares about me as an individual?

Asking such an impertinent question felt like it would only make the teacher, who was genuinely concerned, lose patience with me, so I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

What I needed to do now was quickly calm my unsettled heart and return to being the usual ‘Uehara Meisa’.

“Honestly, it’s fine. Mum and I just have completely different routines, so we don’t eat together. I get my food allowance, you know. It’s just that eating out is a hassle, and I care about my appearance, so I prefer to cook for myself. So I don’t think it’s neglect. Mum and I aren’t on bad terms either.”

I’d been unsettled because it was my teacher, but it wasn’t the first time someone’d worried about me. Well, until now, it was more like they’d pretended to be concerned.

　When people found out about my home situation, they’d often assume I was starved of affection. Men with transparent ulterior motives would come around, feigning sympathy.

Seeing the worst of human nature up close was utterly draining, so I’d always avoided talking about it. Yet somehow, I’d been stupidly honest with the teacher.

With a teacher who was certainly not a good listener. What on earth was I expecting from her?

“So, you know, I don’t need sympathy or concern. I’m perfectly fine with my life as it is. Being able to cook is a definite advantage for the future, I reckon. I feel lucky, really. Look, I’ve even been able to cook for you like this.”

I forced a smile, aware it might seem contrived, and the teacher murmured softly.

“…Uehara-san, you are truly admirable.”

“Eh? Wh-what? Why?”

“You are admirable, but… please don’t forget you’re still a child. If anything happens, rely on me. I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

Just those few words made the corners of my eyes suddenly sting.

And at the same time, I realised what I truly wanted from the teacher – those feelings I’d sealed away in a box deep inside my heart.

So that’s it. I want to be spoiled by the teacher. I want them to be kind to me.