Chapter Text
After a certain point in one’s teaching career, graduation ceremonies are just plain
boring.
Following the disaster that was Salt Mid’s brief flirtation with the 21st century last year, they’d stuck to a traditional ceremony, with speech after speech after speech, and absolutely
no
pop songs of any kind.
Ever.
Still, she usually drags Toyoda to the graduation every year, if only because she needs someone who it’s socially acceptable to fall asleep on during the principal’s speech. They both know the drill by now: sit towards the middle of the gymnasium, in the middle of a row, preferably behind some tall and/or chatty parents. Once they’re comfortably seated, they can safely zone out until the scripted speeches about success and school spirit and moving on to do great things have been run dry again, and wake up just in time to watch the graduating class receive their little diplomas. The real fun in this, of course, was the gossip. It’s not that Katsuko doesn’t
like
her students, or isn’t incredibly proud of them. It’s just that, as a teacher, becoming invested in the lives of teenagers is the only way to stay sane.
“Did you have him last year?” Toyoda asks, as a lanky, awkward boy that Katsuko vaguely recognizes stumbles on stage to collect his diploma.
She shakes her head. “No, I think he was in Amori’s class.”
“Kid
sniffs pens.”
“What, like a drug thing?”
“No, that would’ve made sense! Just, he
sniffed them,
Kano. Always. During lessons, while he was working, just always…
sniffing.”
“Weird.”
As sniffer boy is clapped off of the stage, he’s replaced by a petite girl that it takes Katsuko a moment to place, but when she does…
“Hey, isn’t she the one who told everyone she dated a high schooler?”
Toyoda squints at her. “Did she? I swear I saw her flirting with my first years.”
They get so caught up in trying to piece together the tangled mess that is the middle school dating scene that Katsuko almost misses Shigeo’s name being called. The only thing that alerts her is the sole
whoop!
among the polite clapping that follows him on stage. As subtly as she can, Katsuko turns around in her chair. Sure enough, at the back of the gymnasium, Reigen is standing against a wall with the others who couldn’t get a seat, clapping and grinning with an enthusiasm that seems to be giving other
parents
secondhand embarrassment.
Shigeo has managed to grab his diploma and shake the hands of most all of the officials in the span of about three seconds, and Katsuko reminds herself to add a tally on the break room whiteboard to Satoh’s secret agent theory from a couple of years ago (“The quiet ones are always the shiftiest, Kano!”). Still, she manages to get a couple of claps in as he scurries off of the stage.
—
Toyoda always ditches as soon as the ceremony is over, which, frankly, Katsuko doesn’t understand. In her opinion, there’s little point in attending the ceremony itself if you’re not going to stick around for the classroom party afterwards. The only real draw is the promise of more gossip and convenience store cookies, but still.
The desks in Sugita Ken’s classroom are pushed around haphazardly, and Katsuko works her way through the maze, past little cliques of students and chittering parents until she finally manages to reach the food table, and the long-awaited cookies. Objectively, it’s not a huge distance from the door to the food, but Katsuko has been cornered by a series of her former students and, of all people, the Kageyamas, so finally getting to the back of the room feels like an accomplishment.
She’s surprised that the Kageyamas are sticking around, given that all four of them seem to be incredibly uncomfortable talking to people in general. Of course, the parents had had no trouble thanking her for all her work, gushing about their sons and such, but both of them are mingling with the overly-happy tone and strained smiles of adults who would rather like to be done being adults for the day. Ritsu is far less subtle about his discomfort, fidgeting and tugging on the collar of his dress shirt. Whenever he thinks nobody's looking, his nose scrunches up, glaring mercilessly at the nearest person or object.
He seems to be sticking to his parents’ sides, unlike Shigeo, who she’s seen speaking to no less than four other students. All of them were in the telepathy/body improvement club, but still, she thinks it might be a new record.
Compared to the rest of the boys in his year, mostly wearing baggy suits, scuffed shoes, and ties that hung down half to their knees, Shigeo is surprisingly sharply dressed. His black suit jacket actually seems, well, calling it
tailored
would be a stretch, but it actually
fits.
The matching pants
have
to have been hemmed, and the collar of his dress shirt is crisply ironed. The only thing that’s
not
new-looking is the tie, and by this point, the faded pink of the ratty thing is actually familiar. She loses sight of Shigeo when he disappears behind some of the girls’ soccer team trying to take a picture, so she scans the room for Reigen instead. It isn’t difficult.
He’s amassed a decent following in the corner of the room, and looks to be entirely in his element, leaning back casually against the wall and presumably telling stories that are accompanied by extravagant sweeping hand motions that usually make the group burst into obnoxious laughter. She’s seen him twiddle his purple bow tie no less than fifteen times since she arrived.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket.
FROM SATOH:
im gonna be able to get over there in 5 mins, is reigen still there
TO SATOH:
Yep, but I don’t know for how much longer. Until Shigeo leaves, probably.
FROM SATOH:
listen. katsuko. this is the LAST NIGHT for us to get to the bottom of this
TO SATOH:
For YOU to get to the bottom of this, you mean?
FROM SATOH:
not important, listen, katsu, if u see him going to leave, u gotta stop him. talk to him abt idk old rocks or whatever your minor was until i get there
TO SATOH:
Anthropology, but you were close.
She’s so caught up in looking at her phone that she almost startles when she sees Shigeo in front of her. His telltale nerves are on full display, scuffing one shoe on the linoleum tiles, but he’s smiling softly up at her, and his hands are behind his back, clearly hiding something.
She smiles back at him. “Congratulations, Shigeo! I’m sure everyone’s very proud of you.”
Shigeo looks down at the floor as he mumbles, “Oh, um, thank you, Miss Kano.” She waits patiently as he stares at his feet, biting his lip as he gathers his words. “I wanted to, um, to thank you for… everything, and Shishou helped me a lot to pick it out and plant it, so, uh…” He holds something out from behind his back. “Please accept this from both of us!”
As she gently takes the little pot from him, he explains, “It’s a sweet pea plant. Shishou says it means ‘goodbye,’ so…
oh!
Um, they can grow kind of big, so if you want to, you can plant it in the ground, or a bigger pot, and tie it onto something so that it can grow straight… ours is tied to a yardstick that Shishou found. Yours should flower soon.”
The tiny green stalk is bending with the weight of the buds, already splitting down the sides to reveal streaks of white petals. It’s impossible to place the way she’s feeling, the thing in her chest that’s heavy and light all at once, and she thinks,
a flower that means goodbye.
All she can do is meet his eyes, and she her voice comes out sounding soft and awed when she says,
“Thank you,
Shigeo. Thank you, for everything.”
Shigeo’s hug is too quick for her to reciprocate, just a quick squeeze before he’s stepped away, eyes towards the floor again.
He perks up when he hears Reigen calling, “Oi, Mob!” from his corner of the room. Katsuko puts a hand on his shoulder as he moves to leave.
“You’ll thank your shishou as well for me, won’t you? And I certainly hope this won’t be the last I see of you. After all, your brother is graduating next year, isn’t he?”
Shigeo nods, and he smiles up at her again, eyes bright. He actually waves a small goodbye as he walks over to Reigen, whose audience has since dispersed. Reigen bends down to say something to him, hand clasped on his shoulder.
Satoh Miyu sidles up to her, quickly following her line of sight. “Oh, thank goodness, he’s still here.” She looks at Katsuko. “Katsu, you have a plant.”
Katsuko adopts the dry deadpan that’s more or less necessary to be friends with Satoh. “Indeed I do. Shouldn’t you be supervising your own class party?” Satoh waves her off with a small scoff, but doesn’t actually answer the question.
Katsuko sees Shigeo walking away from Reigen, and towards his parents and Ritsu, who are all idling near the door in the manner of people who are
very
ready to leave the party. Reigen, as well, seems to be gearing up to head off. Katsuko points in his direction. “Looks like your window of opportunity is closing to… what
are
you actually planning?”
Satoh looks over at Reigen and hisses,
“Shit.”
Then, to Katsuko, “I’m going to solve the mystery once and for all, Katsu.” At Katsuko’s blank stare, she leans close and whispers conspiratorially,
“The ‘relationship-to-student’ mystery.”
Ah, right. She supposed it never
had
been filled in, had it? The students even updated their information at the beginning of every year, and while Reigen’s phone number had changed once, that little box had still been blank.
She follows behind Satoh as she walks towards Reigen, but drifts away to find an inconspicuous eavesdropping spot.
This should be interesting.
Satoh, chatterbox that she is, makes easy smalltalk, the kind of
oh, I’ve heard about you from Shigeo’s teachers, lovely to finally meet you, isn’t this whole ceremony simply lovely, so excited to see them all graduating,
bland sort of talk that just disguises the real point of a conversation. Tone still innocuously sweet, Satoh finally asks, “So, I’m just dying to know. How
do
you know Shigeo?”
Reigen’s answer is immediate.
“He’s my kid.” The
duh
is unspoken, but Katsuko can hear it clear as day in his unimpressed tone, and she stifles a laugh.
“If you’ll excuse me, Satoh-san, I’ve really gotta get going.” Reigen excuses himself politely and beelines for the exit while Satoh is still floundering a little at the response. He catches her eye as he’s crossing the room, and waves her a quick goodbye before disappearing through the door.
Katsuko should probably head home herself, soon. It’s been a long night, and these things always tend to tire her out. Teachers aren’t known for their active party lives. First though, she needs to drop by her classroom and clear the textbooks off of the windowsill. Her little sweet pea flowers are going to need all of the sunlight they can get.