Chapter 1 | Encounter with the Slacker

“This is my first request of you as your teacher.”

In the cool air of the staff room, Kumada Satomi, my homeroom teacher, delivered those words with a gentle smile.

“I’m not exactly a kid who runs errands…” I muttered under my breath.

Kumada-sensei’s soft, narrowed-eye smile didn’t waver. If anything, it seemed to carry a subtle pressure, like an invisible hand nudging me forward.

“To a teacher, you’re all still little kids—practically my own children, you know?”

“Haa…”

“Hey, Negoro-kun, come on! Where’s the sharp comeback? I’m not that old, am I? From my perspective, I’m young enough to be your older sister! Still plenty youthful, right?!”

“Wait, hold on a second!” I blurted out.

How was an amateur like me supposed to fire back with some slick retort? Even a seasoned comedian would struggle to keep up with her. Kumada-sensei, I’d heard, was thirty-one this year, making her one of the younger teachers at our school. Her soft, droopy eyes and youthful face gave her a unique charm, and her short stature only added to it. The girls in class nicknamed her “Satokuma-chan,” fawning over her—well, fond of her, at least.

“You’ve got a lot to learn about treating a lady, Negoro-kun.”

As my homeroom teacher for Class 1-3, we’d barely spoken one-on-one until now. Maybe she really was the eccentric older-sister type after all.

“So, what’s this errand about? Calling me out on a day like this…” I said, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

I wanted to avoid any more detours into troublesome territory. Being summoned to the staff room after school was annoying enough, especially since it delayed my trip home. Today was the closing ceremony for the first semester—the start of summer vacation. Not that it mattered much to me. My summer was already booked with summer courses and cram school, just the same monotonous routine as always.

“Right, right, let’s get to it.” Kumada-sensei’s tone sharpened slightly. “Negoro-kun, are you familiar with remedial classes during summer vacation?”

“Remedial classes?”

“Exactly. Unlike the summer courses you’re taking, these are for students who didn’t earn enough credits in the first semester.”

I nodded, piecing it together. “So, a penalty for kids who did poorly?”

“Penalty’s a bit harsh,” she said with a light laugh. “Think of it as a safety net to help them move on to the second semester.”

“I see. The school’s pretty lenient, huh?”

“We don’t abandon our precious students so easily.”

Her smile softened again as she continued. “Here’s the deal. During the remedial period, I need you to deliver some assignments to a certain slacker who probably won’t show up for the classes. Could you drop them off on your way back from summer courses? I’ll give you their address. Your mission, Negoro-kun, is to deliver the assignments and make sure they get submitted.”

“Why do I have to run an errand like that?!” I protested.

This sounded like a massive hassle.

Kumada-sensei’s lips curved into a sly grin, a rare expression that contrasted her usual airy demeanor. It was almost unsettling. “I mentioned earlier, didn’t I? You owe me one, Negoro-kun. You remember that, right?”

I froze. She was outright blackmailing me.

It all came back to that “debt” she’d dangled over my head. Human error—it’s inevitable. From major blunders like data leaks or medical mistakes to minor slip-ups like a part-timer’s misorder or a typo. If you listed every mistake happening across the country right now, the list would be endless. It’s only human, after all.

But why did I have to make such a careless mistake?

“It was me who saved your zero-point test, Negoro-kun,” she said, her voice almost teasing.

During the final exams, I’d forgotten to write my name on the answer sheet for one subject. The night before, I’d stayed up late wrestling with university entrance exam problems, far tougher than regular schoolwork. Sleep-deprived and overconfident, I thought the first-semester finals for a first-year would be a breeze.

Was it carelessness? Lack of focus? Scattered attention from too little sleep? Probably all of the above. What should’ve been a perfect 100-point answer sheet ended up with a single zero scrawled across it, the blank name field marked with a check worth 100 points.

By the rules, forgetting your name meant an automatic zero. Fair enough—on a real entrance exam, that kind of mistake might not be forgiven either. But this was just a regular test. I figured there’d be some leniency.

That’s what I thought, brushing it off—until I realized the subject I’d messed up was the worst possible one: Japanese, taught by none other than Kumada-sensei.

“No choice, huh, Negoro-kun? I’ll quietly pretend the name issue never happened. That’s one favor you owe me, got it?”

Thanks to her “kindness,” I escaped the zero, but it was all part of her scheme. Now, here I was, tangled in her trap.

I’d been planning to head to the cram school’s study room after this…

“What if I just ignore it and go home?” I ventured.

“Absolutely not,” she shot back.

“What if I solve and submit all the remedial assignments myself?”

“Then your Japanese final would get a failing grade, and I’d have to send you an invitation to summer remedial classes.”

“…Can you even do that now?”

“I manage the Japanese grades, and I’m your homeroom teacher. I might not be able to alter the final exam results, but I can reflect it in your overall semester grade. And considering you originally scored a zero, mandating remedial attendance would be easy. But let’s not go there. Have you forgotten the favor you owe me?”

She had me cornered. It was true—she’d helped me out, but…

“Did you plan this whole errand from the start when you made me owe you?”

“Hmm, who knows?” she said coyly, dodging the question with a playful smile. “But I am asking you specifically for a reason, Negoro-kun.”

Would someone else have just gotten a zero? Or maybe a light warning? Why me?

“Don’t worry, it’s not that tough of an errand,” she added, her smile softening. “Oh, and while you’re there, could you check on how they’re doing and let me know?”

“Then why don’t you go yourself, Sensei?”

“I’ve got my hands full,” Kumada-sensei replied, her tone light but firm. “I’m also an advisor for a club, so my summer’s packed. Don’t overthink it. It’s like back in elementary school, when a teacher asked you to swing by a friend’s house to drop off handouts on your way home.”

“That’s completely different!” I shot back. “This reeks of trouble. You literally just called them a slacker who skips school. Delivering assignments to someone like that and making sure they submit them? That’s a high-level mission.”

“What if they don’t even accept them?” I pressed, my skepticism growing.

“That’s where your mission comes in, Negoro-kun. Figure it out.”

She was totally passing the buck. I barely held back a sigh.

“Are you busy this summer, Negoro-kun?”

“Yeah, summer courses and cram school.”

“Studying, as expected. So like you, Negoro-kun, always the model student.” Her round eyes fixed on me, glinting with curiosity. “Do you like studying?”

The casual question caught me off guard, my heart skipping a beat. “Not particularly.”

“Then… any hobbies? I remember during class introductions, you said you don’t watch TV or read magazines. I’ve been curious ever since. Games, books, maybe a secret idol obsession…?”

“Nope, nothing like that. Just studying, mostly.”

At my flat response, Kumada-sensei’s lips curved into a faint, almost knowing smile. “This mission will be good for you too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She ignored my question, reaching into her desk drawer to pull out a single memo. “One last thing—good news for you, Negoro-kun!”

“Oi, don’t save the good news for last!” My hopes spiked. Was this big enough to offset the hassle? Maybe something like winning the lottery?

“Here’s the address,” she said, handing me the paper with slender fingers, her preparation almost smug.

…Where’s the good news?

I stared at the memo, then froze. “…Huh?”

“It’s a girl?”

At the bottom of the paper was the name: Makura Koiro.

“Yup, that’s right!” Kumada-sensei nodded, brimming with confidence.

“…Is this really okay for me to do?”

“What, not thrilled? It might be a chance to get closer!” She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled.

Sure, some guys would be ecstatic. But for me, who barely talks to girls, this was a recipe for anxiety. Good news? More like a nightmare. I half-wished it was a mistake.

What was I supposed to even say to a girl? No, I should just refuse. But before I could—

“Negoro-kun, this is something only you can do. I’m counting on you.”

Kumada-sensei bowed her head, low and sincere. Why was a teacher going this far for a student? And why me? Questions piled up, but as she bowed even deeper, I could only stare at the neat swirl of her hair, my resolve wavering.

I did owe her, after all. And if I bailed and she followed through on docking my grades for that forgotten name, I’d be in deeper trouble. With her pressing like this, saying no felt impossible.

I didn’t need to make conversation. Just deliver the assignments, ensure they’re submitted, and done. Mission complete.

“Oh, and even better news—Koiro-chan lives alone! But don’t get any ideas. No late-night study sessions at her place, got it?” Kumada-sensei peeked up, gauging my reaction with a teasing glint.

Oi, Sensei! Was that really something a teacher should say? Her youthful face hid an old-man’s sense of humor, didn’t it? Talking with her like this revealed a side of my homeroom teacher I wished I’d never seen.

Sensing my discomfort, she let out a deliberate cough. “Alright then, starting tomorrow, I’m counting on you, Negoro-kun!”

In the end, I nodded reluctantly and left the staff room.

＊

The next day, after summer courses, I was summoned to the staff room as promised—or rather, half-forced—and handed the remedial worksheets for the errand.

“It’s hot…” I muttered, checking Makura Koiro’s address again. It was in the opposite direction from school to cram school.

Shaking my bangs from my eyes, I glanced at my phone. 10:30 a.m. The sun was already scorching, and I started trudging along, the heat weighing on me.

Summer courses ran every weekday until the Obon holidays, covering just the first and second periods of a normal school day. They were optional, so only the serious students showed up. The content was a dull review of the first semester, barely worth my time. Honestly, I didn’t need to attend. So why did I drag myself to school each morning? Because the cram school’s study room didn’t open until 10 a.m., and I needed somewhere to kill time. I could study on my own during class, so I joined the courses.

Home in the morning was… noisy, to put it mildly.

But now, even after class, I couldn’t head straight to the study room. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with,” I grumbled, pushing the thought aside.

I passed a group of lively elementary school kids, probably off to play, and turned left at a shuttered dry cleaner. The cicadas’ cries from the street trees buzzed in my ears like ultrasonic waves. Feeling like a dried fish under the blazing sun, I walked for ten minutes.

Finally, I reached the apartment where the so-called slacker lived. It was a worn, two-story building with four rooms lined up horizontally. A knee-high stone sign read Michikusa Manor. A roofed bike parking area held a shiny red bicycle next to a rusty one leaning against the wall, barely under the roof. A lone cylindrical ashtray stood nearby.

According to Sensei’s memo, the slacker’s place was the corner room at the far end, up the stairs. I paused outside the apartment, crossed my arms, and stared at the door.

What the heck am I supposed to do now?

How do I even start this conversation?

My stomach churned with nerves, a jittery mess. “W-Well, I’m dealing with some unknown weirdo, so it’s normal to be nervous, right?” I muttered, nodding to myself as if to shake off the unease.

Makura Koiro was in Class 1-2, right next to my Class 1-3, but I’d heard she barely showed up to school. We’d probably never crossed paths, never even glimpsed each other’s faces. If she was skipping classes, could she be a shut-in? The thought of meeting someone I couldn’t picture at all only made the knot in my gut tighten.

It’s definitely not because she’s a girl that I’m this antsy.

I lowered the hand that had been fidgeting with my bangs and let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumping. Whatever. I just needed to get this over with and head to the study room.

Steeling myself, I climbed the narrow metal stairs of the apartment with quick, determined steps. At Makura’s door, I noticed there was no nameplate. No time to hesitate. With a burst of momentum, I pressed the intercom button.

“…Yes?” came a wary girl’s voice after a brief pause, crackling through the old-fashioned intercom with no camera.

“Uh… I’m here to deliver remedial assignments for summer break… Oh, I’m Negoro Manamichi from Class 1-3,” I managed, stumbling over my words.

A moment of silence followed. “…Just leave it there,” she replied flatly.

“Huh…?”

For a second, her words didn’t register. No, no, this wasn’t some delivery drop-off. These were just worksheets, sure, but if I left them outside, the wind could scatter them. Even if I stuffed them in the mailbox by the door, she might ignore them out of sheer laziness. Kumada-sensei’s condition was clear: deliver the assignments and ensure they’re submitted.

“Sorry, I need to hand them over in person. There’s some stuff to explain too,” I said, trying to sound firm.

“W-Wait a sec!” Her voice came back flustered, followed by a buzz as the call cut off. Sounds like she’s coming out.

Good. I exhaled in relief, stepped back, and waited.

…And waited. Ten minutes passed.

“…Seriously?” I muttered, staring at the still-closed door, a mix of shock, exasperation, and confusion swirling inside me.

What was this? Some kind of neglect play? Unfortunately, I wasn’t at the level where I’d call this a reward. No weird inclinations here. In that time, I could’ve memorized thirty English vocab words, I thought, my mind drifting.

Then, with a creak of rusty hinges, the door slowly opened.

“—Huh?”

I let out a startled sound. Her silky hair shimmered under the sunlight, scattering flecks of light. Wide, double-lidded eyes peeked through her bangs, framed by a pure white blouse with a small sunflower embroidered on the chest. The girl who stepped out was nothing like the gloomy shut-in I’d imagined—she was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Sorry for making you wait. Thanks for delivering the assignments,” she said, tilting her head curiously, her black hair with bright gradient tips brushing behind her ear as her lips parted slightly. “Um… which ones are the assignments?”

“O-Oh!” Her voice snapped me out of my daze, and I fumbled to pull the file of worksheets from my bag. “M-Makura Koiro-san?”

“Yup, that’s me.” She tilted her head again, her gaze locking onto me. “…You know about me?”

“No, I just heard you’re in the class next door, but this is our first time meeting,” I replied, trying to steady my voice.

Her expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across her face. “Oh, right, yeah yeah,” she said lightly, taking the file from my outstretched hand. “Thanks, Negoro Manamichi-kun!”

She flashed a bright, almost dazzling smile, gave a slight bow, and stepped back toward her room. That smile—it was vivid, like a burst of sunlight, the kind of radiance the word “dazzling” was invented for.

“Ah…”

Caught off guard by her smile and the unexpected sound of my full name, I stood there, stunned. The door closed before me with a soft click.

…I didn’t get to explain the assignments.

She didn’t even glance at the contents.

I’d barely confirmed her name, but Makura Koiro—what was with her? All that lingered was her enigmatic presence and that perfect smile, seared into my mind like a blooming sunflower.

“…Gotta get to cram school,” I mumbled, snapping out of it after standing like a creep in front of her door for too long. I turned on my heel and started walking.