part 7:
Back to School
by Matthew Atanian
©2014 by Matthew Atanian
Back to School
by Matthew Atanian
©2014 by Matthew Atanian
Matthew Atanian woke up, but he did not yet open his eyes. He stretched a bit but otherwise remained in his futon, enjoying the sensation that only comes during that interval between the time when you gain consciousness, and the time when you choose to acknowledge that you’ve done so.
Time passed as Matthew let his mind wander aimlessly. An instant, ten minutes, an eternity, or all of the above... assuming that time even existed in this limbo of the mind.
Eventually, almost reluctantly, his eyes opened.
“Ah, good morning.”
Matt couldn’t help but smile, even though he disliked the intrusion. But he would be damned if he was about to let onto that fact. Instead, he replied, “Good morning, Mr. Yotsuya,” with somewhat forced cordiality. He then turned his head to the side to confirm the owner of the voice.
Indeed, Mr. Yotsuya sat to one side of the room. He was sipping something from a steaming cup, pausing to take a bite from a pop tart.
“I don’t suppose,” Matt said, carefully maintaining a friendly voice, “I might have a bit of privacy?”
Surprisingly, Yotsuya nodded in the affirmative. He then, to Matt’s astonishment, somehow managed in one fluid motion to slither backwards through the hole between their two rooms, cup in one hand and breakfast confection in the other. The heavy fabric Matthew had hung over the hole flowed over him as he did this.
Matt threw off his sheet, rolled off of the futon, and stood. He stretched once more. He glanced around the still not quite familiar surroundings of his room, from one corner to the next. His eyes fell upon the digital clock he had brought with him. It was actually a bit earlier then he had expected, which was especially surprising considering that their group had been out rather later then was probably wise the previous evening. He would not have to rush to get ready for his first day.
He switched off the alarm on his clock so that it wouldn’t sound while he was out of his room, then he left to attend to his morning toiletries. Upon returning, he laid out his clothing for the day and then proceeded to dress. Black slacks. A red, long sleeved, button down collared shirt. A grey tie, done in a half Windsor. Ordinarily at this point, he would slip his shoes on over his socks. He even looked around for them momentarily. Then he remembered: in deference to local culture, of course, they had been left near the front door.
He gathered up the materials he thought he would need for the day, took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled. He smiled. He felt ready for the day.
He pulled on his long black trench coat, grabbed his fedora, and opened the door.
Mr. Yotsuya was standing there.
He was standing in the hallway, right on the other side of Matt’s door, facing into Matt’s room. He was wearing black slacks, a red shirt, a grey tie, and a long black trench coat. Yotsuya’s fedora was already upon his head.
Matt blinked.
Without any comment, Yotsuya turned and walked off towards the stairs.
Matt frowned.
Bill Gelinas opened his eyes. The ceiling was still unfamiliar. He supposed in time he would become accustomed to it.
“Hey, get up! We’ll be late!” Hughes informed him.
Gelinas stood. He looked at Hughes. “You’re wearing that?”
“Well, we don’t have our uniforms yet,” Hughes noted.
“Yes, but that?” Gelinas insisted.
Hughes looked down at himself, regarding the neon pink zoot suit he was wearing, and lacking comprehension towards Gelinas’s objection. “What?”
“You girls almost ready?” Sarah asked her sisters.
“I am, almost,” Kirstin replied. “I think Nicole still is waiting on the bathroom.”
“Damn that Mike,” Nicole commented from one corner of the room, where she was bouncing slightly from foot to foot. “He knew my weakness!”
Sarah looked confused at this, so Kirstin explained. “He offered her one hundred yen for her turn.”
Sarah facepalmed. Nicole simply glowered and muttered, “If he tries to pull that on me again, he better offer at least five hundred... No! A thousand...”
There was a knock at the door, and from the other side came Mike’s voice. “Your turn!”
Impressively quick, Nicole bolted from the room. Sarah hadn’t thought it humanly possible to move that fast.
There was a knock at the door, and from the other side came Mike’s voice. “You decent?”
“Yeah, come in,” Aaron replied, having finished dressing.
The door opened, and Aaron was joined by his roommate.
Mike was almost completely dressed for the day, himself. Not counting his shoes, there was only one thing he felt he was lacking. He strode purposefully into the room, acquired his care worn Troop 192 baseball cap, and donned it.
Now Mike felt ready to face the day.
Everyone eventually gathered in the foyer. Matt finally acquired his footwear. He pulled on his left shoe, then his right... No, wait a moment. He was surprised to find some interference there, as there was something already inside of his right shoe. He reached in to remove the offending object. Although it was now a bit crumpled, thanks to his foot, it was a piece of paper that looked to have been neatly folded before being tucked inside.
Matt unfolded the paper and found that there was a note written upon it. The note was signed only with a sigil in the shape of a bell. This is what was contained in the body of the note:
“I trust you have enjoyed your first few days in Japan, and the company I have arranged for you and your charges during your stay. When I saw that the younger two of the women in question had qualified for this scholastic exchange program, it struck me as an excellent opportunity to arrange cover for your visit while providing you with the comfort of a few familiar faces. Do forgive my not telling you of this in advance, an old man is amused by providing the odd surprise or two on occasion.
“In any event, while I wish to provide your charges with the experience of an uninterrupted first day in their new scholastic environment, it is a truth that me must also soon being the preparations for your upcoming trials soon. Therefore, please meet me, accompanied by your charges, tomorrow after school as a Chinese eatery near their school building. Young masters Abdowmassy and Hughes will know the place, having eaten there before.”
Matt pondered what he had read for a moment before folding the note back up and pocketing it. No need to worry the boys about it just yet. He agreed with the sentiment that they should enjoy their first day of school without this to worry about. He’d share it with them tonight.
Meanwhile, Sarah asked her sisters, “Ready girls?”
It would have been easy to tell the twins apart from their differing mode of dress. Nicole was basically wearing smart business attire, with a power skirt and a fetching blazer. Kirstin, meanwhile, was much more softly dressed, with a pair of slacks and a slightly formal but comfortable looking blouse. Of course, as it was likely that in the near future they would be given identical uniforms, the boys of 192 found themselves thankful for the haircut that Nicole had gotten that past spring. She’d maintained the shorter length it had had since then, although the two longer strands she had left framing either side of her face had grown an additional inch or two. Kirstin’s hair remained long, only ever cut to even the length and remove split ends.
The twins answered affirmatively. Of course they, along with Aaron and Hughes, had already been to see the school, at least from the outside. So they could show Mike and Gelinas the way. Matt and Sarah both had other destinations, but both had checked their routes and were reasonably comfortable with them.
The day was young, and birds were chirping as the doors of Maison Ikkoku opened. The group of Americans ventured fourth and down the hill towards the train station, each one ready to start their day.
Matthew arrived at the school he would be working at. It wasn’t the same school as the one the guys and the twins were going to as students, but rather an all-girls establishment that apparently had quite a reputation and history. No pressure, now.
He was met at the door by a woman who initially had a stern look on her face, but smiled when she saw him approach. “Mr. Atanian?” she asked.
“Hello,” he said. He extended a hand, and she accepted it.
“I am Yagami Ibuki, I’m in charge of Class 3-4, the class you’ll be working with,” she told him as the two of them walked into the building.
“A pleasure to meet you, Yagami-sensei.”
“Indeed, a pleasure to meet you as well, Atanian-sensei.”
Matt paused. “Please, I’m not a professional teacher, you embarrass me with a title I've not earned.”
The corner of Yagami-sensei’s mouth turned up in amusement. “As you wish. You understand your task, though?”
“I do.”
“I am an alumnus of this very school,” Yagami-sensei told him. “I’m counting on you to carry on the excellence that this establishment is known for.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I trust you will. I will remain present, of course, but I will try to leave things to you as much as possible. You can work closely with our Class Representative. She actually lived for some time in America, and probably doesn’t even need this class for herself. But it was felt that it would be useful for you to have one student with whom you might have a more common frame of reference and who can help you with your interactions with the other students.”
“I look forward to it,” Matt said.
They came to a stop before a sliding door. Above the door was a little sign reading, “3-4.”
“I trust you are ready for this, Mr. Atanian?”
Matt felt a more then a bit nervous. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The group arrived at Furinkan High. They were a bit unsure where to go at first, but they were approached by two male students as they walked across the grounds towards the front entrance.
“Hey there!” one of them said. “You’re the exchange students, right?”
“A-yup,” Mike said.
“Excellent!” the other one of them said. “We’ve been asked by the principal to meet you and show you guys around.”
“I’m Hiroshi,” the first one said.
“And I’m Daisuke,” the other introduced himself.
Mike and the rest of the boys introduced themselves, as did Kirstin and Nicole.
“We’re like the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern of Furinkan High,” Hiroshi added.
“Never quite the heros,” Daisuke explained, “but known enough. And maybe someday we’ll get our own story.”
“That’s an odd way to introduce yourselves,” Bill Gelinas commented. “And your English is surprisingly good.”
“Shut up, Bill,” Aaron commanded.
“Well, of course our English is good,” Hiroshi said. “Why else do you think Principal Kuno asked us to be your guides?”
“That makes sense,” Kirstin commented.
“Good,” Daisuke said. “Now that that’s all out of the way, we’ll show you to class.”
A classroom full of teenage girls was not an environment that Matt felt at his most natural in. When Yagami-sensei first opened the door the classroom had been chaos, with almost no one at their desks and a cacophony of voices all interacting with one another. At the sound of the door sliding open, however, without instruction they all fell silent and found their desks.
The members of the class observed that their teacher was not alone, and while the class remained respectfully silent, Matt couldn’t help but to feel that roughly thirty pairs of eyes were inspecting him with intense curiosity as he followed Yagami-sensei to the front of the class. His own eyes found they had trouble looking back at any of them.
When they reached the front of the room, one of the students called out, “Kiritsu, rei, tyakuseki!” The members of the class stood, gave a respectful bow, and then returned to their seats. Then Yagami-sensei took another step forward and addressed the class.
“Good morning, everyone. As you know, Class 3-4 is a special class with a heavy emphasis on English instruction. For the first half of the year, I have been working with you on this. Now, however, we will be changing things up a bit. First of all, for the remainder of the year the English instructional period of this class will be total immersion. No Japanese is to be spoken. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, Yagami-sensei,” the class replied in unison.
“Also, when it comes to English instruction, while I will still be present as an observer and adviser, I shall no longer be your primary instructor. Instead, I would like to introduce you to Matthew Atanian. He is an American, and while I have taught you as much as I can in the technical matters of speaking English, he comes to us as a native speaker for you to interact with.”
Yagami-sensei stepped back, and motioned to Matthew for him to step forward. He swallowed, took a breath, and stepped forward.
“G-good morning, class. I’m Mr. Atanian.” It felt weird even saying that. Cliché as it may be, his father was Mr. Atanian. Not him. Of course, he also wasn’t a teacher. What was he doing here?
“I’m not a trained professional,” he admitted, “and I can’t understand Japanese at all, but we’re here to speak English, and that is something I can do.”
A few of the girls towards the back of the class giggled, and the words, “Sensei no baka,” made their way to Matt’s ears.
One of the students in the front row had stood, a serious look on her face. “Koemi! Mayu!” she called out, chastising the giggling pair. They immediately stopped.
“Thank you, Megumi,” Yagami-sensei said to the girl who had spoken out.
“It was the least I could do. I’m Class Representative, after all.”
Matt couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Meg, from Akihabara! It was hard for him to stop himself from making an exclamation to that effect, but, taking a deliberate breath, he managed. Besides, if he had any hope of this working, he needed to step up the confidence a bit.
“It’s fine,” Matt said. He turned back to the class, and looked towards the source of the giggling. Heck, if he could face vicious Canadians with guns, he could face teenage Japanese girls, right? “I may have said I don’t know Japanese, but must admit I do know the odd few words. So if you’ll allow me to correct you, please don’t call me ‘sensei.’ For one thing, as I said, I am not a professional teacher. Although I do hope you will learn from me, and I also hope to learn from you while I am here. I hope for this to be an enriching experience for all of us.
“Also, please remember what Ms. Yagami said. English only from here on. So, what you should have said is, ‘Mr. Atanian is stupid.’”
At this, the two girls in the back looked a bit embarrassed, not having expected their insult to be so easily understood. But at, “Mr. Atanian is stupid,” some of the other girls in the class giggled. It being at his own joke this time, Matt let them before he resumed speaking. “After all, English has no equivalent to many of the name suffixes used in Japanese, and so we just have to go with a simple, ‘Mr.’
“As for the second half of that statement, I do hope to prove it wrong. Only time will tell, so let us get started, shall we?
“Ms. Yagami has said that she has instructed you in technical English. From here on, however, we will be looking at some of the idiosyncrasies that you cannot learn out of a book, and can only come from experience. For example,” Matt reached into the materials he had prepared, and pulled from it an 8X10 photograph. “what would you call this?”
A few hands went up, including one of the two girls who had been giggling. Matt called on that girl. “Yes. You are?”
“Koemi, Mr. Atanian. And that is a sandwich.”
Matt nodded. “Very good. It is a sandwich. It is some bread, and it has some meat and cheese in there... But the type of bread this is in makes it a particular type of sandwich. Can anyone tell me that?”
Most of the hands went down. There was one still up, from the front row of the class. Meg.
She smiled. “Kataki Megumi, Mr. Atanian,” she said by way of introduction, playing for the class as if the two of them were strangers. “I believe that would be a sub, sir.”
Matt nodded. “It is. Technically, it is called a ‘submarine sandwich,’ presumably because the shape of the bread reminded people of submersible boats, and calling it a ‘sub’ is just the common name that is a short hand derivative.” He took his look off of Meg, and made sure he was addressing the class as a whole. “But even then, a lot of it depends on where you are. For example, where I am from, although people would likely know what you were talking about if you mentioned eating a sub it would be much more common to call this type of sandwich a grinder. But in still other areas of America, the same sandwich might be called a hoagie, a hero, a rocket, a torpedo, or a zeppelin.
“And that is just talking about differences within one country. For example, take this.” Matt picked up a pencil, and pointed at the rubbery appendage at the non-writing end. “In England, this would be called a rubber. But for reasons I shan’t elaborate upon, you might find yourself somewhat embarrassed if you went into a store in America and asked to buy some rubbers. You would have better luck if you asked after erasers.
“So that is what I hope to do with this class. We’ll work together to give you a greater experience in speaking English conversationally as a native speaker would, and to the best of my ability I’ll also share with you what knowledge I may have about regional differences.
“And to that effect, let us jump right into things, shall we? We’ll start by taking a look at a popular British radio program from the late 70’s. We’ll read it together, with volunteers taking the different roles and with myself taking the role of the narrator.” Matt handed out photocopies of the script of the first episode and assigned parts to volunteers. He couldn’t help but notice that Meg had quickly volunteered for the first part he had offered.
“Hope you don’t mind playing male parts,” he told the class when he was finished assigning them. “Very few female parts in this show; only one in the first episode and it isn’t a major one. But it is an entertaining show with excellent use of language. We’ll read one episode each class for the next six classes, and after each reading we’ll discuss the language used and what some differences may have been if this had been, for example, an American production.
“Any questions before we begin? No? Well then.” He looked down at the page and began reading, unconsciously adopting a facsimile of a formal British accent as he did so. “‘This is the story of The Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy, perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor...’”
Sarah had spent the beginning of her morning being given security credentials, filling out some paperwork with the Human Resources department, and generally being shown around the building at the main Tokyo offices of Mitsumoto Enterprises before finally being taken to the office where she would be working.
A stern looking man was waiting there for her. However, when he saw her approaching, he smiled and extended a hand towards her. Surprised, she gripped it. His shake was firm.
“Expecting to have to bow before we began?” he asked her.
“To be honest, yes,” she said.
He chuckled. “If you were a Japanese employee, that would be the case. But having worked some time in the American office, I know that different approaches are required on occasion. I am Kataki Katashi. You’ll be one of my... what is the polite term these days? Executive assistant?”
Sarah smiled. “No need to be so formal. Secretary is fine with me.”
He nodded to this. He opened the door to his office and walked in, and Sarah followed. In the outer office was two desks, on opposite sides of the room, the space between them acting as a corridor to the door to the inner office. Behind one of the desks sat a young Japanese woman who stood and bowed as they came in. Mr. Kataki nodded in acknowledgement, then pointed to the other desk. “That is your desk,” he said to Sarah.
“So, what exactly are my responsibilities?” she asked as she moved over towards it.
“This office is responsible for all relations between our domestic offices and our divisions in America. Rumi here is very competent and fluent in English, but in the past few months I have come to realize I need someone who is more familiar with American cultural idiosyncrasies.
“So, simply put, for matters coming in from America you will be responsible for collecting information collating it, and delivering it to me. I will then decide what needs to be done and when finished give it to Rumi to disseminate. For matters going out to America, it will be the opposite.
“If you have any further questions, you may ask Rumi.”
Sarah turned to Rumi, who smiled and bowed slightly. Sarah returned the bow.
“Welcome to Mitsumoto Enterprises, Ms. Porter,” Mr. Kataki said as he turned towards the door to the inner office. “We expect good things from you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Sarah said. “I look forward to the opportunity.”
“I’m glad you picked up on that one, Chihiro,” Matt replied to a question one of the students had asked. “Indeed, as absurd as many of the situations are in this story are, it would be strange for Arthur, in a modern society, to need to use basically a stick with flame on the end of it to illuminate his way down a staircase. To an American English speaker, that would be the exclusive use of the word ‘torch,’ but to someone in England it could just as easily refer to an electronic flashlight.
“Anyone else?” A hand shot up. “Yes?”
“Kubo Masako, sir.” The students had been kind enough to identify themselves to him while he was still learning their names. “I did not understand one part, when Arthur asked Ford about being drunk.”
“And Ford told him to ask a glass of water?”
Masako nodded.
“Well, it was a play on words, you see, but a subtle one. In this case, it is playing on drunk being in Arthur’s (and the audience’s initial) interpretation an adjective describing a state of intoxication, but Ford intended it as the past participle of the verb drink.”
As Masako smiled in understanding, a clock chimed indicating the hour.
“Well, that about takes up the time allotted for the morning’s English education. I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.” Matt felt reassured by the vigorous nodding of heads.
Matt and Ms. Yagami excused themselves from the room. Matt couldn’t help but notice Meg watching him as they left.
It had taken Matt by surprise that in the Japanese school system, outside of classes that required special equipment, the students stayed in the same place and the teachers were the ones who moved from room to room. But he supposed it made sense. Heck of a lot easier to move around one person then thirty.
“The rest of my classes aren’t nearly as advanced as the girls in 3-4,” Ms. Yagami told him. “So I’ll maintain the lead in instructing them. But you are welcome to sit in and advise if asked. I have the next period free, however. We can go to the faculty room, and you can get yourself a desk for your own work.”
“Thanks, that’d be nice.”
They made their way to the room and entered it. It was nearly empty, with only one other person there. An older male teacher with his head down on a desk, a slight snoring sound coming fourth. Ms. Yagami frowned and yelled at him.
He woke up with a start, made some embarrassed sounding noises, and then noticed Matt. Ms. Yagami made some cross-language introductions, and then the man (who Matt had learned was a chemistry teacher named Abe) excused himself.
Ms. Yagami tisked. “That man just does not have the energy to deal with this,” she said.
“Teaching?”
“Oh, he’s a fine teacher, but he does have a rough time trying to keep a full class of teenage girls reined in.” She smiled slightly. “Even I find it trying on occasion, I suppose.”
Matt asked, “What made you want to become a teacher?”
Ms. Yagami now made some embarrassed noises. “I was just trying to follow someone I once knew,” she said.
Matt sensed it might be best to leave it at that for now. There was a slight awkward silence, so Matt was glad when there was a knock at the door.
“Hai?” Ms. Yagami asked, and the door opened. “Oh, hello, Megumi. What can we do for you?”
Meg had walked into the room. “Mr. Sato asked me if I could collect some pens.”
Ms. Yagami placed her palm to her face and quietly muttered something Matt had no hope of understanding linguistically, but the tone seemed to be one of exasperation. “Very well,” she then said. “Wait here while I get some from the supply cabinet.” She then left the room, pausing briefly on the way out to glance back at them, leaving Matt alone with Meg.
Meg’s expression immediately changed from one of composed stillness to a wide grin. She placed her hands upon her hips and looked squarely at Matt. “Well, fancy meeting you here! Good to see ya’ again, Matt! Or should I say, Mr. Atanian?”
Matt coughed, caught off guard. After a moment, he replied, “Mr. Atanian might work better at school. So, Meg is short for Megumi?”
“Yup! Personally, I like just Meg much better, but I suppose here I should go by Megumi.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. What are you doing here?”
“Duh, school.”
“Oh... oh yeah, that makes sense. But hold on... If you pretty much grew up in America, what are you doing in an advanced English class?”
“I was put there more to help others then to learn myself,” she said. “Kind of like you, I suppose.”
Matt nodded, and now vaguely remembered Ms. Yagami having said something along those lines. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Anyway... Lucky!” Meg exclaimed.
Matt looked confused at this.
“You being here, silly!” she explained. “We’d been told we were getting a special advanced English instructor, and I worried it’d be some stuffy old boring person. But you’re here! I can tell this is going to be fun.”
“Thanks,” Matt told her. Unsure what to say next, he decided to go with, “Um, you were a pretty good Arthur.”
Meg smiled. “Aw, thanks. That was awesome, by the way. I love that book. I didn’t know they’d made it into a radio show!”
“Actually,” Matt told her, “it was the other way around.”
“That is so interesting,” Meg said, with, Matt thought, surprising sincerity.
“It is?” he asked.
“Well, duh,” she replied. “Hitchhiker’s covers both sci-fi and British comedy. What’s not to love?”
“Wait, hold on,” Matt said, “didn’t you also say you liked anime?”
“Yeah, why?” Meg asked.
Matt stifled an urge to ask if she was real, and also stifled an urge to answer his unasked question with a reply of, “Shut up, Bill!” Instead, he just dodged her question by responding, “No reason.”
The door opened, and Matt felt his posture stiffen. Ms. Yagami walked back in.
The smile Meg wore grew slightly, like a mischievous child who didn’t care that she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She turned to Ms. Yagami.
“I swear, that man can be so forgetful,” Ms. Yagami muttered. “Megumi, you tell him not to forget to get his own supplies before class begins, so that he doesn’t have to keep sending students out on errands when they should be learning! Never mind that, that isn’t your place. I’ll speak to him.”
“Yes, Ms. Yagami.”
“Okay, now, off you go.”
Meg took the offered pens. “Thank you.” She walked to the door, but turned around briefly. “Thank you, Mr. Atanian,” she said in a formal tone. She turned again and left, closing the door after herself.
Matt gazed at the door in her absence.
Ms. Yagami cleared her throat. Startled, Matt turned to face her.
“Well, you seem to be getting along well with Ms. Kataki,” she said.
“I... I suppose.”
“Excellent, since she is the Class Representative, and as I said you’ll be working closely with her.”
“Oh,” Matt said. Unsure how to follow that, he simply said, “I look forward to it.”
Ms. Yagami smiled. “I’m sure you do.”
The school day had been quite an interesting one so far. Aaron, Mike, the Bills, and the Porters all were made to feel quite welcome. One of the other students even gave them a tasty treat for lunch, something called okonomiyaki. Kirstin and Nicole seemed especially pleased by this, saying it was something that their grandmother used to make for them on occasion. The student who had given it to them seemed touched by this, and told the Porters that they were welcome to more any time they wanted... if they wished to purchase some from the cart that she ran, that was. That piqued Nicole’s interest, and the two of them spent much of the rest of their lunch period discussing business tactics.
And so the school day continued. Towards the very end of the day, however, class was interrupted by an announcement over the intercom. It was repeated twice, first in Japanese, then in English.
During the Japanese version, the boys and the Porters couldn’t help but notice that most of their new schoolmates seemed weary of whatever was being said.
The English version started. “Aloha, all of my wonderful students!” the voice said in a strange mix of Asian and Pacific Island accents. “We have some new exchange students, to whom I would like to give a great big welcome! To celebrate, all classes tomorrow are cancelled! And instead, we will be having a most excellent obstacle course race! That is all!”
The intercom clicked off.
Hiroshi sighed. “Don’t worry,” he said, “the principal loves any excuse, we almost expected something like this to happen. So no one blames you.”
“Blames us for what?” Hughes asked.
Daisuke gave a resigned smile. “Come to school tomorrow if you dare,” he said. “You’ll see.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Aaron muttered.
Meg slipped her school slippers into their locker after putting on her shoes. It had been an eventful day!
“So, what do you think of that stupid lesson?” she heard a voice saying from the other side of the stack of lockers.
“I know! What was all of that about sandwiches?”
“And reading some weird story about drinking beer and the world blowing up? I don’t get it.”
Meg rounded the corner and found Koemi and Mayu standing on the other side. She stood there as they continued to complain, a stern look on her face and her hands on her hips, waiting for them to notice her.
They finally did.
“What?” one of them asked indignantly.
“As the representative of class 3-4, I will not have you speaking ill about one of our teachers, especially not where you can be heard. If you have a problem, please keep discussion of it private.”
Mayu tisked. “Don’t you know it is rude to eavesdrop?”
“Eavesdrop?” Meg repeated. “The way you two were going on, I’d have to be deaf to not hear you!”
“Pay her no mind,” Koemi said to her companion, speaking herself as Meg wasn’t there. “You know how it is where she comes from, gaijin have no respect for privacy.”
Meg’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to respond, but remarkably, her brain managed to intercept before what she wanted to say came out. She steeled herself, took a breath, and instead said, “Look, give Mr. Atanian a chance, will you? It was his first day. I’m sure with a bit of time, you’ll come to see the value in what he’s teaching.
“And also, please refrain from speaking ill about the writing of Douglas Adams. The man is a literary genius.”
Koemi took steps towards Meg. Meg, surprised, actually took a step back, unsure what Koemi’s intentions were. It was a mystery that would have to remain forever unsolved, however, as at that moment a new voice entered the confrontation.
“Koemi, Mayu, school is over for the day and I do not recall either of you being in any clubs. Should you not be on your way home?”
Koemi stopped in her tracks. She and Mayu stiffened up, stammered out a, “Y-yes, Yagami-sensei!” and bid a hasty retreat, although they could not help themselves from shooting Meg one last dirty look on their way out.
Meg stood there, unsure what to do next. The way Yagami-sensei had spoken, it was pretty clear she was only dismissing the other two.
“Ms. Kataki,” Yagami-sensei began.
“Yes?”
The teacher looked at her for a moment. “That was a rather impassioned defense of our new teacher. And I could not help but get the impression, in the class room this morning and in the staff room later, that you may have some interest in Mr. Atanian beyond the academic.”
“Yagami-sensei, please, I have no idea what...”
One of Yagami-sensei’s eyebrows arched suspiciously.
“Aw, geez,” Meg sighed. “Was I that obvious?”
“Not particularly,” Yagami-sensei replied.
“Then how did you suss it out?”
“Never mind that. Ms. Kataki, as your teacher, I must advise you against scandalous behavior that might bring dishonor to our school. Now please, follow me.”
Yagami-sensei started walking towards the front door of the school.
“Where are we... what’s going on?” Meg asked, confused and not moving for a moment. Yagami-sensei did not answer, and only continued briskly and sternly walking forward, so that Meg had to speed for a moment to catch up.
Meg followed as Yagami-sensei continued walking, out of the door, across the grounds, out of the front gate, down the street a bit, and around a corner to a small alley.
What was going on?
Suddenly, Yagami-sensei gripped Meg by the shoulders. A mad grin was on her face. It scared Meg a bit, she had never seen her teacher like this. But her fright disappeared when Yagami-sensei finally spoke, enthusiastic words spilling from her mouth in a quiet, conspiratorial tone.
“You have my full support!” Yagami-sensei beamed. “History must not be repeated!”
“What history?” Meg inquired.
But Yagami-sensei seemed not to hear, almost in her own world, as she continued, “We can win this!”
A part of Meg wondered for a moment, worrying what the heck was going on and if she might be getting in over her head. A small part of her. The rest of her told that part to shut the heck up.
Meg smiled intensely.
Aaron, Mike, and the Bills were gathered in Aaron and Mike's room, trying to brainstorm whatever the heck might be in store for them the following day.
"Pity Kenny's not here with us," Gelinas commented.
"Just as well," Mike replied. "We can't always be relying on him to get us out of things."
"Well, at least that's the only thing we have to worry about tomorrow," Aaron replied.
"Speak for yourself," Hughes said. "I need to figure out what I'm going to wear for this. I don't have much in the way of fashionable athletic gear."
"I don't think that will be a worry," Mike said. "Remember, packages with our uniforms, including gym clothing, were waiting for us when we got home."
"Yeah, but they're so drab," Hughes complained. "If I have to wear that, I can at least accessorize!"
Everyone else sighed.
There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Mike said.
Matt entered. "Hey, guys. Is there a Chinese restaurant some of you ate at, near your school?"
"Yeah," Hughes said.
"Oh, Perfume's working there," Aaron added.
"Interesting," Matt replied. "Well, I suppose it would be good to meet up with her and keep her in the loop on these things, too."
"What things?" Mike asked.
"Well," Matt replied, pulling out from his pocket a folded and slightly crumpled piece of paper, "it seems we all have an appointment tomorrow afternoon."
Time passed as Matthew let his mind wander aimlessly. An instant, ten minutes, an eternity, or all of the above... assuming that time even existed in this limbo of the mind.
Eventually, almost reluctantly, his eyes opened.
“Ah, good morning.”
Matt couldn’t help but smile, even though he disliked the intrusion. But he would be damned if he was about to let onto that fact. Instead, he replied, “Good morning, Mr. Yotsuya,” with somewhat forced cordiality. He then turned his head to the side to confirm the owner of the voice.
Indeed, Mr. Yotsuya sat to one side of the room. He was sipping something from a steaming cup, pausing to take a bite from a pop tart.
“I don’t suppose,” Matt said, carefully maintaining a friendly voice, “I might have a bit of privacy?”
Surprisingly, Yotsuya nodded in the affirmative. He then, to Matt’s astonishment, somehow managed in one fluid motion to slither backwards through the hole between their two rooms, cup in one hand and breakfast confection in the other. The heavy fabric Matthew had hung over the hole flowed over him as he did this.
Matt threw off his sheet, rolled off of the futon, and stood. He stretched once more. He glanced around the still not quite familiar surroundings of his room, from one corner to the next. His eyes fell upon the digital clock he had brought with him. It was actually a bit earlier then he had expected, which was especially surprising considering that their group had been out rather later then was probably wise the previous evening. He would not have to rush to get ready for his first day.
He switched off the alarm on his clock so that it wouldn’t sound while he was out of his room, then he left to attend to his morning toiletries. Upon returning, he laid out his clothing for the day and then proceeded to dress. Black slacks. A red, long sleeved, button down collared shirt. A grey tie, done in a half Windsor. Ordinarily at this point, he would slip his shoes on over his socks. He even looked around for them momentarily. Then he remembered: in deference to local culture, of course, they had been left near the front door.
He gathered up the materials he thought he would need for the day, took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled. He smiled. He felt ready for the day.
He pulled on his long black trench coat, grabbed his fedora, and opened the door.
Mr. Yotsuya was standing there.
He was standing in the hallway, right on the other side of Matt’s door, facing into Matt’s room. He was wearing black slacks, a red shirt, a grey tie, and a long black trench coat. Yotsuya’s fedora was already upon his head.
Matt blinked.
Without any comment, Yotsuya turned and walked off towards the stairs.
Matt frowned.
Bill Gelinas opened his eyes. The ceiling was still unfamiliar. He supposed in time he would become accustomed to it.
“Hey, get up! We’ll be late!” Hughes informed him.
Gelinas stood. He looked at Hughes. “You’re wearing that?”
“Well, we don’t have our uniforms yet,” Hughes noted.
“Yes, but that?” Gelinas insisted.
Hughes looked down at himself, regarding the neon pink zoot suit he was wearing, and lacking comprehension towards Gelinas’s objection. “What?”
“You girls almost ready?” Sarah asked her sisters.
“I am, almost,” Kirstin replied. “I think Nicole still is waiting on the bathroom.”
“Damn that Mike,” Nicole commented from one corner of the room, where she was bouncing slightly from foot to foot. “He knew my weakness!”
Sarah looked confused at this, so Kirstin explained. “He offered her one hundred yen for her turn.”
Sarah facepalmed. Nicole simply glowered and muttered, “If he tries to pull that on me again, he better offer at least five hundred... No! A thousand...”
There was a knock at the door, and from the other side came Mike’s voice. “Your turn!”
Impressively quick, Nicole bolted from the room. Sarah hadn’t thought it humanly possible to move that fast.
There was a knock at the door, and from the other side came Mike’s voice. “You decent?”
“Yeah, come in,” Aaron replied, having finished dressing.
The door opened, and Aaron was joined by his roommate.
Mike was almost completely dressed for the day, himself. Not counting his shoes, there was only one thing he felt he was lacking. He strode purposefully into the room, acquired his care worn Troop 192 baseball cap, and donned it.
Now Mike felt ready to face the day.
Everyone eventually gathered in the foyer. Matt finally acquired his footwear. He pulled on his left shoe, then his right... No, wait a moment. He was surprised to find some interference there, as there was something already inside of his right shoe. He reached in to remove the offending object. Although it was now a bit crumpled, thanks to his foot, it was a piece of paper that looked to have been neatly folded before being tucked inside.
Matt unfolded the paper and found that there was a note written upon it. The note was signed only with a sigil in the shape of a bell. This is what was contained in the body of the note:
“I trust you have enjoyed your first few days in Japan, and the company I have arranged for you and your charges during your stay. When I saw that the younger two of the women in question had qualified for this scholastic exchange program, it struck me as an excellent opportunity to arrange cover for your visit while providing you with the comfort of a few familiar faces. Do forgive my not telling you of this in advance, an old man is amused by providing the odd surprise or two on occasion.
“In any event, while I wish to provide your charges with the experience of an uninterrupted first day in their new scholastic environment, it is a truth that me must also soon being the preparations for your upcoming trials soon. Therefore, please meet me, accompanied by your charges, tomorrow after school as a Chinese eatery near their school building. Young masters Abdowmassy and Hughes will know the place, having eaten there before.”
Matt pondered what he had read for a moment before folding the note back up and pocketing it. No need to worry the boys about it just yet. He agreed with the sentiment that they should enjoy their first day of school without this to worry about. He’d share it with them tonight.
Meanwhile, Sarah asked her sisters, “Ready girls?”
It would have been easy to tell the twins apart from their differing mode of dress. Nicole was basically wearing smart business attire, with a power skirt and a fetching blazer. Kirstin, meanwhile, was much more softly dressed, with a pair of slacks and a slightly formal but comfortable looking blouse. Of course, as it was likely that in the near future they would be given identical uniforms, the boys of 192 found themselves thankful for the haircut that Nicole had gotten that past spring. She’d maintained the shorter length it had had since then, although the two longer strands she had left framing either side of her face had grown an additional inch or two. Kirstin’s hair remained long, only ever cut to even the length and remove split ends.
The twins answered affirmatively. Of course they, along with Aaron and Hughes, had already been to see the school, at least from the outside. So they could show Mike and Gelinas the way. Matt and Sarah both had other destinations, but both had checked their routes and were reasonably comfortable with them.
The day was young, and birds were chirping as the doors of Maison Ikkoku opened. The group of Americans ventured fourth and down the hill towards the train station, each one ready to start their day.
Matthew arrived at the school he would be working at. It wasn’t the same school as the one the guys and the twins were going to as students, but rather an all-girls establishment that apparently had quite a reputation and history. No pressure, now.
He was met at the door by a woman who initially had a stern look on her face, but smiled when she saw him approach. “Mr. Atanian?” she asked.
“Hello,” he said. He extended a hand, and she accepted it.
“I am Yagami Ibuki, I’m in charge of Class 3-4, the class you’ll be working with,” she told him as the two of them walked into the building.
“A pleasure to meet you, Yagami-sensei.”
“Indeed, a pleasure to meet you as well, Atanian-sensei.”
Matt paused. “Please, I’m not a professional teacher, you embarrass me with a title I've not earned.”
The corner of Yagami-sensei’s mouth turned up in amusement. “As you wish. You understand your task, though?”
“I do.”
“I am an alumnus of this very school,” Yagami-sensei told him. “I’m counting on you to carry on the excellence that this establishment is known for.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I trust you will. I will remain present, of course, but I will try to leave things to you as much as possible. You can work closely with our Class Representative. She actually lived for some time in America, and probably doesn’t even need this class for herself. But it was felt that it would be useful for you to have one student with whom you might have a more common frame of reference and who can help you with your interactions with the other students.”
“I look forward to it,” Matt said.
They came to a stop before a sliding door. Above the door was a little sign reading, “3-4.”
“I trust you are ready for this, Mr. Atanian?”
Matt felt a more then a bit nervous. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The group arrived at Furinkan High. They were a bit unsure where to go at first, but they were approached by two male students as they walked across the grounds towards the front entrance.
“Hey there!” one of them said. “You’re the exchange students, right?”
“A-yup,” Mike said.
“Excellent!” the other one of them said. “We’ve been asked by the principal to meet you and show you guys around.”
“I’m Hiroshi,” the first one said.
“And I’m Daisuke,” the other introduced himself.
Mike and the rest of the boys introduced themselves, as did Kirstin and Nicole.
“We’re like the Rosencrantz and Guildenstern of Furinkan High,” Hiroshi added.
“Never quite the heros,” Daisuke explained, “but known enough. And maybe someday we’ll get our own story.”
“That’s an odd way to introduce yourselves,” Bill Gelinas commented. “And your English is surprisingly good.”
“Shut up, Bill,” Aaron commanded.
“Well, of course our English is good,” Hiroshi said. “Why else do you think Principal Kuno asked us to be your guides?”
“That makes sense,” Kirstin commented.
“Good,” Daisuke said. “Now that that’s all out of the way, we’ll show you to class.”
A classroom full of teenage girls was not an environment that Matt felt at his most natural in. When Yagami-sensei first opened the door the classroom had been chaos, with almost no one at their desks and a cacophony of voices all interacting with one another. At the sound of the door sliding open, however, without instruction they all fell silent and found their desks.
The members of the class observed that their teacher was not alone, and while the class remained respectfully silent, Matt couldn’t help but to feel that roughly thirty pairs of eyes were inspecting him with intense curiosity as he followed Yagami-sensei to the front of the class. His own eyes found they had trouble looking back at any of them.
When they reached the front of the room, one of the students called out, “Kiritsu, rei, tyakuseki!” The members of the class stood, gave a respectful bow, and then returned to their seats. Then Yagami-sensei took another step forward and addressed the class.
“Good morning, everyone. As you know, Class 3-4 is a special class with a heavy emphasis on English instruction. For the first half of the year, I have been working with you on this. Now, however, we will be changing things up a bit. First of all, for the remainder of the year the English instructional period of this class will be total immersion. No Japanese is to be spoken. Do you understand this?”
“Yes, Yagami-sensei,” the class replied in unison.
“Also, when it comes to English instruction, while I will still be present as an observer and adviser, I shall no longer be your primary instructor. Instead, I would like to introduce you to Matthew Atanian. He is an American, and while I have taught you as much as I can in the technical matters of speaking English, he comes to us as a native speaker for you to interact with.”
Yagami-sensei stepped back, and motioned to Matthew for him to step forward. He swallowed, took a breath, and stepped forward.
“G-good morning, class. I’m Mr. Atanian.” It felt weird even saying that. Cliché as it may be, his father was Mr. Atanian. Not him. Of course, he also wasn’t a teacher. What was he doing here?
“I’m not a trained professional,” he admitted, “and I can’t understand Japanese at all, but we’re here to speak English, and that is something I can do.”
A few of the girls towards the back of the class giggled, and the words, “Sensei no baka,” made their way to Matt’s ears.
One of the students in the front row had stood, a serious look on her face. “Koemi! Mayu!” she called out, chastising the giggling pair. They immediately stopped.
“Thank you, Megumi,” Yagami-sensei said to the girl who had spoken out.
“It was the least I could do. I’m Class Representative, after all.”
Matt couldn’t believe his eyes. It was Meg, from Akihabara! It was hard for him to stop himself from making an exclamation to that effect, but, taking a deliberate breath, he managed. Besides, if he had any hope of this working, he needed to step up the confidence a bit.
“It’s fine,” Matt said. He turned back to the class, and looked towards the source of the giggling. Heck, if he could face vicious Canadians with guns, he could face teenage Japanese girls, right? “I may have said I don’t know Japanese, but must admit I do know the odd few words. So if you’ll allow me to correct you, please don’t call me ‘sensei.’ For one thing, as I said, I am not a professional teacher. Although I do hope you will learn from me, and I also hope to learn from you while I am here. I hope for this to be an enriching experience for all of us.
“Also, please remember what Ms. Yagami said. English only from here on. So, what you should have said is, ‘Mr. Atanian is stupid.’”
At this, the two girls in the back looked a bit embarrassed, not having expected their insult to be so easily understood. But at, “Mr. Atanian is stupid,” some of the other girls in the class giggled. It being at his own joke this time, Matt let them before he resumed speaking. “After all, English has no equivalent to many of the name suffixes used in Japanese, and so we just have to go with a simple, ‘Mr.’
“As for the second half of that statement, I do hope to prove it wrong. Only time will tell, so let us get started, shall we?
“Ms. Yagami has said that she has instructed you in technical English. From here on, however, we will be looking at some of the idiosyncrasies that you cannot learn out of a book, and can only come from experience. For example,” Matt reached into the materials he had prepared, and pulled from it an 8X10 photograph. “what would you call this?”
A few hands went up, including one of the two girls who had been giggling. Matt called on that girl. “Yes. You are?”
“Koemi, Mr. Atanian. And that is a sandwich.”
Matt nodded. “Very good. It is a sandwich. It is some bread, and it has some meat and cheese in there... But the type of bread this is in makes it a particular type of sandwich. Can anyone tell me that?”
Most of the hands went down. There was one still up, from the front row of the class. Meg.
She smiled. “Kataki Megumi, Mr. Atanian,” she said by way of introduction, playing for the class as if the two of them were strangers. “I believe that would be a sub, sir.”
Matt nodded. “It is. Technically, it is called a ‘submarine sandwich,’ presumably because the shape of the bread reminded people of submersible boats, and calling it a ‘sub’ is just the common name that is a short hand derivative.” He took his look off of Meg, and made sure he was addressing the class as a whole. “But even then, a lot of it depends on where you are. For example, where I am from, although people would likely know what you were talking about if you mentioned eating a sub it would be much more common to call this type of sandwich a grinder. But in still other areas of America, the same sandwich might be called a hoagie, a hero, a rocket, a torpedo, or a zeppelin.
“And that is just talking about differences within one country. For example, take this.” Matt picked up a pencil, and pointed at the rubbery appendage at the non-writing end. “In England, this would be called a rubber. But for reasons I shan’t elaborate upon, you might find yourself somewhat embarrassed if you went into a store in America and asked to buy some rubbers. You would have better luck if you asked after erasers.
“So that is what I hope to do with this class. We’ll work together to give you a greater experience in speaking English conversationally as a native speaker would, and to the best of my ability I’ll also share with you what knowledge I may have about regional differences.
“And to that effect, let us jump right into things, shall we? We’ll start by taking a look at a popular British radio program from the late 70’s. We’ll read it together, with volunteers taking the different roles and with myself taking the role of the narrator.” Matt handed out photocopies of the script of the first episode and assigned parts to volunteers. He couldn’t help but notice that Meg had quickly volunteered for the first part he had offered.
“Hope you don’t mind playing male parts,” he told the class when he was finished assigning them. “Very few female parts in this show; only one in the first episode and it isn’t a major one. But it is an entertaining show with excellent use of language. We’ll read one episode each class for the next six classes, and after each reading we’ll discuss the language used and what some differences may have been if this had been, for example, an American production.
“Any questions before we begin? No? Well then.” He looked down at the page and began reading, unconsciously adopting a facsimile of a formal British accent as he did so. “‘This is the story of The Hitch-Hikers Guide to the Galaxy, perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor...’”
Sarah had spent the beginning of her morning being given security credentials, filling out some paperwork with the Human Resources department, and generally being shown around the building at the main Tokyo offices of Mitsumoto Enterprises before finally being taken to the office where she would be working.
A stern looking man was waiting there for her. However, when he saw her approaching, he smiled and extended a hand towards her. Surprised, she gripped it. His shake was firm.
“Expecting to have to bow before we began?” he asked her.
“To be honest, yes,” she said.
He chuckled. “If you were a Japanese employee, that would be the case. But having worked some time in the American office, I know that different approaches are required on occasion. I am Kataki Katashi. You’ll be one of my... what is the polite term these days? Executive assistant?”
Sarah smiled. “No need to be so formal. Secretary is fine with me.”
He nodded to this. He opened the door to his office and walked in, and Sarah followed. In the outer office was two desks, on opposite sides of the room, the space between them acting as a corridor to the door to the inner office. Behind one of the desks sat a young Japanese woman who stood and bowed as they came in. Mr. Kataki nodded in acknowledgement, then pointed to the other desk. “That is your desk,” he said to Sarah.
“So, what exactly are my responsibilities?” she asked as she moved over towards it.
“This office is responsible for all relations between our domestic offices and our divisions in America. Rumi here is very competent and fluent in English, but in the past few months I have come to realize I need someone who is more familiar with American cultural idiosyncrasies.
“So, simply put, for matters coming in from America you will be responsible for collecting information collating it, and delivering it to me. I will then decide what needs to be done and when finished give it to Rumi to disseminate. For matters going out to America, it will be the opposite.
“If you have any further questions, you may ask Rumi.”
Sarah turned to Rumi, who smiled and bowed slightly. Sarah returned the bow.
“Welcome to Mitsumoto Enterprises, Ms. Porter,” Mr. Kataki said as he turned towards the door to the inner office. “We expect good things from you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Sarah said. “I look forward to the opportunity.”
“I’m glad you picked up on that one, Chihiro,” Matt replied to a question one of the students had asked. “Indeed, as absurd as many of the situations are in this story are, it would be strange for Arthur, in a modern society, to need to use basically a stick with flame on the end of it to illuminate his way down a staircase. To an American English speaker, that would be the exclusive use of the word ‘torch,’ but to someone in England it could just as easily refer to an electronic flashlight.
“Anyone else?” A hand shot up. “Yes?”
“Kubo Masako, sir.” The students had been kind enough to identify themselves to him while he was still learning their names. “I did not understand one part, when Arthur asked Ford about being drunk.”
“And Ford told him to ask a glass of water?”
Masako nodded.
“Well, it was a play on words, you see, but a subtle one. In this case, it is playing on drunk being in Arthur’s (and the audience’s initial) interpretation an adjective describing a state of intoxication, but Ford intended it as the past participle of the verb drink.”
As Masako smiled in understanding, a clock chimed indicating the hour.
“Well, that about takes up the time allotted for the morning’s English education. I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.” Matt felt reassured by the vigorous nodding of heads.
Matt and Ms. Yagami excused themselves from the room. Matt couldn’t help but notice Meg watching him as they left.
It had taken Matt by surprise that in the Japanese school system, outside of classes that required special equipment, the students stayed in the same place and the teachers were the ones who moved from room to room. But he supposed it made sense. Heck of a lot easier to move around one person then thirty.
“The rest of my classes aren’t nearly as advanced as the girls in 3-4,” Ms. Yagami told him. “So I’ll maintain the lead in instructing them. But you are welcome to sit in and advise if asked. I have the next period free, however. We can go to the faculty room, and you can get yourself a desk for your own work.”
“Thanks, that’d be nice.”
They made their way to the room and entered it. It was nearly empty, with only one other person there. An older male teacher with his head down on a desk, a slight snoring sound coming fourth. Ms. Yagami frowned and yelled at him.
He woke up with a start, made some embarrassed sounding noises, and then noticed Matt. Ms. Yagami made some cross-language introductions, and then the man (who Matt had learned was a chemistry teacher named Abe) excused himself.
Ms. Yagami tisked. “That man just does not have the energy to deal with this,” she said.
“Teaching?”
“Oh, he’s a fine teacher, but he does have a rough time trying to keep a full class of teenage girls reined in.” She smiled slightly. “Even I find it trying on occasion, I suppose.”
Matt asked, “What made you want to become a teacher?”
Ms. Yagami now made some embarrassed noises. “I was just trying to follow someone I once knew,” she said.
Matt sensed it might be best to leave it at that for now. There was a slight awkward silence, so Matt was glad when there was a knock at the door.
“Hai?” Ms. Yagami asked, and the door opened. “Oh, hello, Megumi. What can we do for you?”
Meg had walked into the room. “Mr. Sato asked me if I could collect some pens.”
Ms. Yagami placed her palm to her face and quietly muttered something Matt had no hope of understanding linguistically, but the tone seemed to be one of exasperation. “Very well,” she then said. “Wait here while I get some from the supply cabinet.” She then left the room, pausing briefly on the way out to glance back at them, leaving Matt alone with Meg.
Meg’s expression immediately changed from one of composed stillness to a wide grin. She placed her hands upon her hips and looked squarely at Matt. “Well, fancy meeting you here! Good to see ya’ again, Matt! Or should I say, Mr. Atanian?”
Matt coughed, caught off guard. After a moment, he replied, “Mr. Atanian might work better at school. So, Meg is short for Megumi?”
“Yup! Personally, I like just Meg much better, but I suppose here I should go by Megumi.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. What are you doing here?”
“Duh, school.”
“Oh... oh yeah, that makes sense. But hold on... If you pretty much grew up in America, what are you doing in an advanced English class?”
“I was put there more to help others then to learn myself,” she said. “Kind of like you, I suppose.”
Matt nodded, and now vaguely remembered Ms. Yagami having said something along those lines. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Anyway... Lucky!” Meg exclaimed.
Matt looked confused at this.
“You being here, silly!” she explained. “We’d been told we were getting a special advanced English instructor, and I worried it’d be some stuffy old boring person. But you’re here! I can tell this is going to be fun.”
“Thanks,” Matt told her. Unsure what to say next, he decided to go with, “Um, you were a pretty good Arthur.”
Meg smiled. “Aw, thanks. That was awesome, by the way. I love that book. I didn’t know they’d made it into a radio show!”
“Actually,” Matt told her, “it was the other way around.”
“That is so interesting,” Meg said, with, Matt thought, surprising sincerity.
“It is?” he asked.
“Well, duh,” she replied. “Hitchhiker’s covers both sci-fi and British comedy. What’s not to love?”
“Wait, hold on,” Matt said, “didn’t you also say you liked anime?”
“Yeah, why?” Meg asked.
Matt stifled an urge to ask if she was real, and also stifled an urge to answer his unasked question with a reply of, “Shut up, Bill!” Instead, he just dodged her question by responding, “No reason.”
The door opened, and Matt felt his posture stiffen. Ms. Yagami walked back in.
The smile Meg wore grew slightly, like a mischievous child who didn’t care that she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She turned to Ms. Yagami.
“I swear, that man can be so forgetful,” Ms. Yagami muttered. “Megumi, you tell him not to forget to get his own supplies before class begins, so that he doesn’t have to keep sending students out on errands when they should be learning! Never mind that, that isn’t your place. I’ll speak to him.”
“Yes, Ms. Yagami.”
“Okay, now, off you go.”
Meg took the offered pens. “Thank you.” She walked to the door, but turned around briefly. “Thank you, Mr. Atanian,” she said in a formal tone. She turned again and left, closing the door after herself.
Matt gazed at the door in her absence.
Ms. Yagami cleared her throat. Startled, Matt turned to face her.
“Well, you seem to be getting along well with Ms. Kataki,” she said.
“I... I suppose.”
“Excellent, since she is the Class Representative, and as I said you’ll be working closely with her.”
“Oh,” Matt said. Unsure how to follow that, he simply said, “I look forward to it.”
Ms. Yagami smiled. “I’m sure you do.”
The school day had been quite an interesting one so far. Aaron, Mike, the Bills, and the Porters all were made to feel quite welcome. One of the other students even gave them a tasty treat for lunch, something called okonomiyaki. Kirstin and Nicole seemed especially pleased by this, saying it was something that their grandmother used to make for them on occasion. The student who had given it to them seemed touched by this, and told the Porters that they were welcome to more any time they wanted... if they wished to purchase some from the cart that she ran, that was. That piqued Nicole’s interest, and the two of them spent much of the rest of their lunch period discussing business tactics.
And so the school day continued. Towards the very end of the day, however, class was interrupted by an announcement over the intercom. It was repeated twice, first in Japanese, then in English.
During the Japanese version, the boys and the Porters couldn’t help but notice that most of their new schoolmates seemed weary of whatever was being said.
The English version started. “Aloha, all of my wonderful students!” the voice said in a strange mix of Asian and Pacific Island accents. “We have some new exchange students, to whom I would like to give a great big welcome! To celebrate, all classes tomorrow are cancelled! And instead, we will be having a most excellent obstacle course race! That is all!”
The intercom clicked off.
Hiroshi sighed. “Don’t worry,” he said, “the principal loves any excuse, we almost expected something like this to happen. So no one blames you.”
“Blames us for what?” Hughes asked.
Daisuke gave a resigned smile. “Come to school tomorrow if you dare,” he said. “You’ll see.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Aaron muttered.
Meg slipped her school slippers into their locker after putting on her shoes. It had been an eventful day!
“So, what do you think of that stupid lesson?” she heard a voice saying from the other side of the stack of lockers.
“I know! What was all of that about sandwiches?”
“And reading some weird story about drinking beer and the world blowing up? I don’t get it.”
Meg rounded the corner and found Koemi and Mayu standing on the other side. She stood there as they continued to complain, a stern look on her face and her hands on her hips, waiting for them to notice her.
They finally did.
“What?” one of them asked indignantly.
“As the representative of class 3-4, I will not have you speaking ill about one of our teachers, especially not where you can be heard. If you have a problem, please keep discussion of it private.”
Mayu tisked. “Don’t you know it is rude to eavesdrop?”
“Eavesdrop?” Meg repeated. “The way you two were going on, I’d have to be deaf to not hear you!”
“Pay her no mind,” Koemi said to her companion, speaking herself as Meg wasn’t there. “You know how it is where she comes from, gaijin have no respect for privacy.”
Meg’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to respond, but remarkably, her brain managed to intercept before what she wanted to say came out. She steeled herself, took a breath, and instead said, “Look, give Mr. Atanian a chance, will you? It was his first day. I’m sure with a bit of time, you’ll come to see the value in what he’s teaching.
“And also, please refrain from speaking ill about the writing of Douglas Adams. The man is a literary genius.”
Koemi took steps towards Meg. Meg, surprised, actually took a step back, unsure what Koemi’s intentions were. It was a mystery that would have to remain forever unsolved, however, as at that moment a new voice entered the confrontation.
“Koemi, Mayu, school is over for the day and I do not recall either of you being in any clubs. Should you not be on your way home?”
Koemi stopped in her tracks. She and Mayu stiffened up, stammered out a, “Y-yes, Yagami-sensei!” and bid a hasty retreat, although they could not help themselves from shooting Meg one last dirty look on their way out.
Meg stood there, unsure what to do next. The way Yagami-sensei had spoken, it was pretty clear she was only dismissing the other two.
“Ms. Kataki,” Yagami-sensei began.
“Yes?”
The teacher looked at her for a moment. “That was a rather impassioned defense of our new teacher. And I could not help but get the impression, in the class room this morning and in the staff room later, that you may have some interest in Mr. Atanian beyond the academic.”
“Yagami-sensei, please, I have no idea what...”
One of Yagami-sensei’s eyebrows arched suspiciously.
“Aw, geez,” Meg sighed. “Was I that obvious?”
“Not particularly,” Yagami-sensei replied.
“Then how did you suss it out?”
“Never mind that. Ms. Kataki, as your teacher, I must advise you against scandalous behavior that might bring dishonor to our school. Now please, follow me.”
Yagami-sensei started walking towards the front door of the school.
“Where are we... what’s going on?” Meg asked, confused and not moving for a moment. Yagami-sensei did not answer, and only continued briskly and sternly walking forward, so that Meg had to speed for a moment to catch up.
Meg followed as Yagami-sensei continued walking, out of the door, across the grounds, out of the front gate, down the street a bit, and around a corner to a small alley.
What was going on?
Suddenly, Yagami-sensei gripped Meg by the shoulders. A mad grin was on her face. It scared Meg a bit, she had never seen her teacher like this. But her fright disappeared when Yagami-sensei finally spoke, enthusiastic words spilling from her mouth in a quiet, conspiratorial tone.
“You have my full support!” Yagami-sensei beamed. “History must not be repeated!”
“What history?” Meg inquired.
But Yagami-sensei seemed not to hear, almost in her own world, as she continued, “We can win this!”
A part of Meg wondered for a moment, worrying what the heck was going on and if she might be getting in over her head. A small part of her. The rest of her told that part to shut the heck up.
Meg smiled intensely.
Aaron, Mike, and the Bills were gathered in Aaron and Mike's room, trying to brainstorm whatever the heck might be in store for them the following day.
"Pity Kenny's not here with us," Gelinas commented.
"Just as well," Mike replied. "We can't always be relying on him to get us out of things."
"Well, at least that's the only thing we have to worry about tomorrow," Aaron replied.
"Speak for yourself," Hughes said. "I need to figure out what I'm going to wear for this. I don't have much in the way of fashionable athletic gear."
"I don't think that will be a worry," Mike said. "Remember, packages with our uniforms, including gym clothing, were waiting for us when we got home."
"Yeah, but they're so drab," Hughes complained. "If I have to wear that, I can at least accessorize!"
Everyone else sighed.
There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Mike said.
Matt entered. "Hey, guys. Is there a Chinese restaurant some of you ate at, near your school?"
"Yeah," Hughes said.
"Oh, Perfume's working there," Aaron added.
"Interesting," Matt replied. "Well, I suppose it would be good to meet up with her and keep her in the loop on these things, too."
"What things?" Mike asked.
"Well," Matt replied, pulling out from his pocket a folded and slightly crumpled piece of paper, "it seems we all have an appointment tomorrow afternoon."
Author's Notes & Disclaimers
So we come back to Japan and join everyone for their first days in their new roles.
This story has been in the works for a while, almost since when I finished part 5. (Part 6, if you recall, was originally in the hands of Hughes, and somewhat delayed.) I worried like crazy while writing this story, and was stumped for quite some time. I thought to myself, “Okay, I just had five stories of setting up characters, settings, and situations, with getting everyone to Japan and into their new dynamics of all living under one roof. And this story is just starting to look like just more set-up, without much action! I need some action, damn it!”
But then... well... more set-up really is what the point of this story is. And with part 6 finished and online, I needed to get back to it! I had to get everyone into school (or into their office in Sarah’s case, although that was more just a necessary, “What is Sarah’s place?” and not likely to become a common setting). And, although I felt a bit bad for the most part sidelining all of the other characters, I had to spend most of the time with my own fictional equivalent, as I suppose one of the main points with this one was to do more to establish Meg, and Meg’s scenes would mostly be with him. (In case you didn’t figure it out in part 5, yeah, she’ll be sticking around for a while. What’s a homage to the works of Takahashi Rumiko without a love triangle or two?)
But don’t worry... We’ll be spending more time with the boys and the Porter twins next time.
Anyway, what to disclaim?
Well, of course some elements come from works of Takahashi Rumiko. There were no uses of Jusenkyo curses in this story, but from Ranma ½ we do get Furinkan High, the Neko Hanten (the Chinese restaurant mentioned in Líng Rén’s letter, and seen in BS½ in Japan part 4), Hiroshi, Daisuke, Principal Kuno, and Kuonji Ukyō (the female student who treated the gang to okonomiyaki). From Maison Ikkoku we get, well, Maison Ikkoku. We also get Mr. Yotsuya, Yagami-sensei, Mitsumoto Enterprises, and the unnamed girl’s high school that Matt is teaching at. (It was unnamed in the original work, and thus is likely to remain so here.)
Finally, as usual, this story is not endorsed by or intended to reflect the values of the Boy Scouts of America.
Well, that’s it for this time, I suppose. Hope to be back again in the not too distant future, as we see what exactly Principal Kuno has in store as a welcome to his American exchange students...
– Matthew Atanian, 21 January 2014
This story has been in the works for a while, almost since when I finished part 5. (Part 6, if you recall, was originally in the hands of Hughes, and somewhat delayed.) I worried like crazy while writing this story, and was stumped for quite some time. I thought to myself, “Okay, I just had five stories of setting up characters, settings, and situations, with getting everyone to Japan and into their new dynamics of all living under one roof. And this story is just starting to look like just more set-up, without much action! I need some action, damn it!”
But then... well... more set-up really is what the point of this story is. And with part 6 finished and online, I needed to get back to it! I had to get everyone into school (or into their office in Sarah’s case, although that was more just a necessary, “What is Sarah’s place?” and not likely to become a common setting). And, although I felt a bit bad for the most part sidelining all of the other characters, I had to spend most of the time with my own fictional equivalent, as I suppose one of the main points with this one was to do more to establish Meg, and Meg’s scenes would mostly be with him. (In case you didn’t figure it out in part 5, yeah, she’ll be sticking around for a while. What’s a homage to the works of Takahashi Rumiko without a love triangle or two?)
But don’t worry... We’ll be spending more time with the boys and the Porter twins next time.
Anyway, what to disclaim?
Well, of course some elements come from works of Takahashi Rumiko. There were no uses of Jusenkyo curses in this story, but from Ranma ½ we do get Furinkan High, the Neko Hanten (the Chinese restaurant mentioned in Líng Rén’s letter, and seen in BS½ in Japan part 4), Hiroshi, Daisuke, Principal Kuno, and Kuonji Ukyō (the female student who treated the gang to okonomiyaki). From Maison Ikkoku we get, well, Maison Ikkoku. We also get Mr. Yotsuya, Yagami-sensei, Mitsumoto Enterprises, and the unnamed girl’s high school that Matt is teaching at. (It was unnamed in the original work, and thus is likely to remain so here.)
Finally, as usual, this story is not endorsed by or intended to reflect the values of the Boy Scouts of America.
Well, that’s it for this time, I suppose. Hope to be back again in the not too distant future, as we see what exactly Principal Kuno has in store as a welcome to his American exchange students...
– Matthew Atanian, 21 January 2014