16. Facade

"Good morning, sir, I am the Autonomously Intelligent Fixed Artillery, and artificial intelligence sent under orders from the National Security to establish efforts in the assassination attempts of the Unidentified Slimy Octopus, also known as 'Korosensei' among the students in this satellite branch of Kunugigaoka Junior High."

Naomasa could literally do nothing but stare with a deadpan expression.

He had stayed over at campus, getting some late work done and getting a nap in the lab. Passing through to the lavatory, he had come to meet this transfer student for the first time this life.

He didn't remember Ritsu being this talkative. Or maybe it was the overload of long vocabulary that blew him away, but he really couldn't tell the girl she'd lost him at 'sir'.

She had that poker-faced smile, a programmed emptiness in her eyes. 

Her hair, that crisp, mauve shade of violet-- a rather pleasing sight around the gray of their uniforms. A little splash of colour right where we needed it.

"So," he had to take a moment to recall the full name and hoped he got it right, "Autonomously Intelligent Fixed Artillery," he smiled, "I'm the Japanese Teacher, Kunomasu. I'm pleased to meet you."

In the lone classroom at the crack of dawn, the two made each other strange impressions, and parted right after.

They didn't ask anything-- not why the teacher was there, not why the student was a computer-- neither asked each other anything. They exchanged names, but neither addressed the other directly. After the greeting made out of purely politeness, they failed to find conversation.

Simply sitting down on Hara's desk and looking out the window, they watched the sun rise in silence.

  ー  

"Good morning-- oops,"

Irina stepped into the staffroom for half a moment, looked in, saw a shirtless Nao, and instinctively pulled the door back to shut it.

"Ah-" Nao fumbled, "sorry."

He had pulled off his sweaty shirt-- he'd slept in it-- and was ready to put on a new one, but first, he needed a towel to wipe off his sweat--

"That's an incredible birthmark," Irina spoke up.

She had been standing at the door, absent-mindedly watching with interest.

Nao, turning to her, smiled back nervously. He wasn't too bothered, after all he was a man and being shirtless isn't something scandalous-- he looked down, to the skin on his chest, a pearly white shade gleaming a strange contrast against his naturally peachy skin.

His grand birthmark, large Lichtenberg figures trailing beautifully precise markings on his bare skin. It was a sight to behold-- but if only this was drawn on some marble pottery instead of over his heart.

"Cool, isn't it?" Nao spread his arms apart, almost showing them off, "they look like thunderstrike scars, don't they?"

Irina shrunk slightly, a light wince passing her features, "those are birthmarks, not scars, right?"

Almost abruptly, Nao burst into laughter.

"Of course!" he teased, "look at how large it is! If I was struck this hard and so close to my heart, there's no way I'd survive, right? I mean, with my heart condition to consider, too."

"Wha-" she cringed, "well, obviously, but--" she stuttered, "a birthmark with such a defined and precise shape-- that's just... scientifically and logically impossible."

Scientifically, birthmarks are caused by abnormal blood vessels under the skin, or by the clustering of pigment cells. Thus, they are usually in odd, strange shapes and sizes.

"Dunno," Nao reached for his clean dress shirt, pulling off the buttons and beginning to pull his arms through the sleeves, "maybe I was struck by thunder in a past life!"

"What are you, an edgy teenager?" Irina snapped comically, "geez, I've had enough of you and your irritating mysterious facade." She stepped into the room, placing her bag on her desk and settling down for a new day of work.

Nao only smiled, rather sadly.

  ー  

Nao walked along the hallways, holding a short stack on books in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other.

As he passed the classroom, he noticed people groaning and whining, holding brooms and dustpans--

Just as he turned to look over, he noticed his foot wasn't on solid ground. In fact, it was sliding-- slipping-- wait did I just step on a BB pellet WAIT--

He reached for a foothold that wasn't there, and tried to grab something to prevent his fall, but there wasn't anything around.

With a disgraceful shriek, he collapsed and scattered everything over the floor.

Landing on his bottom, with all his papers and books splashed over himself, a distinct "I saved the coffee!" from Karma in the distance was heard.

"Save him!" Sugino retorted.

"Are you alright, Kuma-sensei?" Kataoka called out, worried.

"The bullets scattered this far?" Isogai fussed, extending a hand to help the teacher up.

"Oh no, the papers are in a mess," Kanzaki realized, crouching down to gather them, "and, our workbooks," she noticed.

As the students helped him gather his items and deposited them on the teacher's desk, Naomasa wondered briefly why he was so blessed with company. These kids were good kids, he acknowledged, wanting to shed a fake tear like Korosensei always did, no ulterior motives even.

"So, is Ms Autonomously Thinking something-this-and-that causing everyone trouble?" Nao brought up the topic casually, taking his coffee-- Karma, did you drink half of my coffee-- and making his slightly more careful way into the classroom.

"That's right," Sugino whined, "it just pulled out all these crazy machine guns and just started some kinda bulldozing rampage on Korosensei!"

At that, Nao burst out laughing.

"Well, I'd have loved to see that!" he patted the boy on the head, turning toward the machine at the back of the classroom, which was blank now, "is it going well for Ms Autonomous?" 

"Unfortunately, yes," Nakamura groaned, leaning back on her chair, "at the cost of our sanity."

Nao couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"I'm seriously losing my mind!" Yoshida spoke up, clawing his hair out.

"How many times do we have to clean up all of these? They're not easy to sweep, y'know?!" Terasaka raged, pointing his broom accusingly at the teacher.

"How convenient," Nao smiled, putting his hands together in elation, "phrase those frustrated emotions into proper sentences and you'll write a splendid essay. I expect it tomorrow morning."

"Did I just get homework? Kuma-sensei??"

"Well, since we're almost about done, how about we settle down and begin class?" Nao suggested, "we'll talk about narrative essays this time, so-"

"Narrative essays are those essays where we can go wild, right?" Fuwa chimed up eagerly, excited, "like short stories! Oneshots!"

"That's not a wrong way to take essay-writing, Fuwa, but if you write like that, you'll run out of time," Nao chuckled. He turned around and drew a mountain on the blackboard-- "a plot diagram is vital to score. You start your story at the foot of a hill, climb up to the climax, and go down to the valley where your journey ends."

"Oh, like dungeon manga! You make it to the end and come back out a hero!" 

"Fuwa, dungeon manga were literally made to never end," Nao was sour, "essays have to be short and sweet, and painfully simple. A strong concept like ninjas, mages, wizards, or aliens, or zombies, just won't make it," Nao explained.

"Magical girls?"

"You can manage one episode of Precure, but you can't flaunt Homura Akemi without destroying the beauty of her tragedy," Nao answered simply.

"Then, dragons!"

"Fantasy is difficult, Fuwa. For essays, you have to prioritise points over enjoyment!" Nao said sternly, "it's nice to have inspiration from manga, but if you reference them too much, you'll lose points for plagiarism!"

"Are references plagiarism?!" Fuwa shot her hand up, asking before she was acknowledged.

"No, but you'll have nightmares with copyright agencies," Nao answered swiftly, "unless you're a gorilla that wants to be a cheeseburger, I highly do not recommend it."

Nao was silent, arms folded sharply.

Two seconds passed, and he assured himself Fuwa would now be quiet. He waited five more seconds just to be sure-- casting a warning glance at the girl that looked like she was experiencing an existential crisis.

He breathed out, relieved.

He was totally expecting that. Yes, he was. Definitely. At least it didn't take the entire hour to win against her this time.

"Alright then, shall we move on?"

And with a toothy grin, class continued with laughter.