There's a famous saying:
"If winter has come, can spring be far behind?"
If you strip away its philosophical meaning, it's actually a very realistic statement.
After the Tsutsui Shiori incident came to a temporary close, nothing particularly troublesome happened at school anymore. Time quietly slipped from February into March—winter slowly giving way to early spring.
The third semester passed quickly, just like that.
Third-year students were preparing to graduate, while first- and second-years buried themselves in studying, waiting for final exams and the upcoming spring break.
As for the wind ensemble club—
aside from exam prep, they were also busy preparing a performance for the graduation ceremony.
What exactly were they going to perform?
Hirakawa Tetsufumi had absolutely no idea.
Even though, out of courtesy, the club invited him—the "advisor in name only"—to attend their meetings, he was, at his core…
a man who inevitably zoned out during every meeting.
He hated meetings in his previous life.
He hated them just as much in this one.
Apparently, even souls have habits.
On top of that, he understood absolutely nothing about things like "musical instruments" or "scores."
So when the flute instructor and the club president asked for his opinion after the meeting—
the only thing he could say was:
"Amazing."
A club advisor reduced to a cheerleader.
How tragic.
And just like that, the third semester entered its final stretch amid tension and busyness.
The graduation ceremony for the third-years soon concluded with the principal's speech.
Accompanied by blessings, farewells, and the lingering emotions carried within the wind ensemble's performance—
there were also…
"Senpai, I like you! I really, really like you!"
Confessions filled with that unmistakable "youthful orange vibe."
With that, the third-years officially bid farewell to Moriya Private Girls' High School.
Next came final exams.
And speaking of final exams…
"They always make me think about holidays."
"Please let break come already."
"I'm so tired."
Hirakawa's lazy voice echoed repeatedly throughout the staff room.
Beside him, Kuda Mari glanced at him several times.
Finally, after watching him stare blankly at his stack of test papers for who knows how long—
she couldn't hold back anymore.
"Hirakawa-sensei… please stop spacing out."
However, Hirakawa—completely immersed in his own world—turned his head and replied:
"Hm? Were you talking to me, Kuda-sensei?"
That utterly lazy attitude left Kuda Mari speechless for quite a while.
"You're the only one in this office this idle, aren't you?"
Her tone sounded like she was scolding a student.
Hirakawa glanced around.
The other teachers were all buried in grading papers.
Of course they were.
It was grading season.
"I'm almost done grading," he said seriously.
"Really?" she asked skeptically.
"Really."
To prove it, he straightened the messy stack of papers on his desk, split them into two piles,
and lifted the noticeably thicker one.
"I've already graded this many."
"That fast?"
"Of course."
"Let me see—"
"Hey, Kuda-sensei, don't look at me like you're checking a student's homework."
He protested weakly.
Kuda stopped
and stared at him.
Stared until he felt guilty.
Hirakawa surrendered.
"Alright, alright, I confess."
A simple, earnest female teacher…
was actually terrifying.
He flipped open the stack in his hand—
revealing the truth beneath the few graded papers on top:
a large pile of completely untouched exams.
After a few seconds of silent staring—
Kuda Mari finally spoke.
"Hirakawa-sensei."
"Yes."
He looked exactly like a student admitting fault.
Ironically, that made it harder for her to continue scolding him.
In the end, she just sighed.
"Someone as lazy as you… why did you even become a teacher?"
Teachers were supposed to be hardworking, after all.
That was what she meant.
Hirakawa thought about it seriously.
"That's a long story."
"Hm?"
"It's probably… the inertia of the soul."
"…What does that even mean?"
She looked confused.
So he explained:
"When I was very young, I visited a shrine and drew a fortune slip."
"The shrine maiden who interpreted it told me that in my previous life, I must have been a teacher."
"So from that moment on, I decided to become one."
He said it with a completely serious expression.
"Really?" she asked.
"Really."
He nodded solemnly.
After a moment of silence—
Kuda Mari turned her head away.
Her expression screamed:
'I can't believe I actually believed that nonsense!'
"Hirakawa-sensei, please don't disturb my work anymore."
She sounded like a little girl saying, "I'm not playing with you anymore."
Even though she was the one who started the conversation.
Seeing her like that
Hirakawa couldn't help but
laugh.
But still…
Why did someone as lazy as him become a teacher?
That was a memory from long ago.