Starbursts (Mutou and Miyagi) (UPDATED)
Posted: Mon Jul 09, 2012 7:24 pm
Just thought I'd lash out something with a little dose of sweetness. Hope ye like it.
(And I'm perfectly aware that the transit of Venus took place in 2012, not 2007. It's not canon
)
__________________________________________________________________________________________
Starbursts
“My name is Hisao Nakai and I like pussy.”
I slam my half-full mug of still-lukewarm coffee down onto the desk while I attempt to master my sudden fit of spluttering. That was a bad time to take a sip.
Fortunately, none of the other students seem to notice anything much out of the ordinary. Thank God for the low standard of Engrish in this class.
“That’s good, Nakai”, I respond, forcing down a half-mouthful of tepid liquid, “but it’s more … correct to say “My name is Hisao Nakai and I like cats.”
The transfer student’s brow furrows.
“But … Mr Asakuro told us that ‘pussy’ was just another word for ‘pet cats’.”
Yes, I bet he did. That creep was nearly as bad as Nomiya. I was quickly deputised to take his classes two weeks ago, after he was put on indefinite leave of absence.
Hentai found on a grown man’s computer … sick.
But back to the problem at hand.
“Well, Nakai … even though that can sometimes be the case … it’s more correct to only use that word towards your own pet cat. In private. Where no-one can hear you.”
Please, oh please, let that suffice.
Nakai lets out a faint sigh, as if despairing of his grasp of the subject, but doesn’t force the issue. Nor does anyone else, despite the somewhat oblique nature of my attempt to discourage unwitting vulgarities. The shrill sound of the lunch bell has never been more welcome.
Although I’m required to stay in class for another minute, in case any of the students have questions, most of them seem only too happy to push their way out. I guess they want to make sure they eat before their next class.
Double Science.
Mutou.
I take a last glance around the room. Ikezawa is the only student left, sitting at her desk and reading a Japanese translation of The Remains of the Day. It seems unusual for her to take an interest in British (or British-Japanese, I guess) culture, but I have seen her walking with Satou, my star pupil, before.
I pack up my books and casually walk out of class. Star pupil … star-crossed lovers … wish upon a star. Strange how we know so little about them, how distant they can seem, but how dependent upon them we can let ourselves become. Not that I’m into anything like astrology, mind. Far too irrational.
"Star, star, teach me how to shine, shine. Teach me so I know what’s going on in your mind",
I hum softly to myself as I walk. Since being given Asakuro’s 3-3 classes, as well as my own in 3-2, I’m a lot busier but I don’t mind. The extra money helps.
It would be nice to have someone to spend it on, though.
I make my way down the hall to the staffroom and make my way to the corner where my locker is. It’s pretty well placed. Mutou’s spot is a little further down, closer to the centre, but not so far that I can’t subtly take a quick look at him anytime I feel the need. Which is not as seldom as I might like to pretend.
He’s sitting comfortably in his usual red leather chair (Yamaku has some very generous donors), reading a science magazine with a front page reading “Can CERN simulate the Big Bang?”.
Whatever about CERN, I sure wish he’d … no. NO. Earth to Miyagi. Do you read?
I continue watching him while he reads. As always, he seems utterly absorbed by what he’s reading. That man never does things by halves. I have no idea how to catch his attention, nor am I even sure that I want to. Sitting in front of me, filling that mind with the mysteries of life – the universe – everything – he’s just too Mutou to disturb.
For me, anyway. Clearly, not everyone feels that way. I watch as Yuuko approaches him. She usually has her head in the clouds, that one does. Heh. Not stars, but it’ll do. Still, I try to keep my eye on her while she speaks to him. Going by some of the rumours I’ve heard, he’s about twenty years too old for her to be interested, but there’s no reason to let my guard down.
“E-excuse me? Mutou-san?”
Slowly, he turns his head towards her, as if he’s an explorer on a far-distant planet who has just encountered an alien life form of uncertain friendliness.
“Yuuko? How can I help you?”
“I was just w-wondering … if I could borrow th-that magazine when you’re f-finished. For the l-library. We sh-should have more stock but it k-keeps … vanishing.”
Mutou continues watching her for a moment, as if deliberating, slowly and painstakingly. Finally, he gives a quick nod.
“Okay.”
“Thankyousomuch! Thatsveryhelpfulofyou! Okaybye!”
Yuuko gives a quick bow, turns on her heel and flees for the door, nearly knocking a table over in her haste. Space cadet.
Mutou frowns at his page in the magazine a few moments longer, but eventually folds it and sets it down. He gazes around the staffroom and spies me, a fortunate fraction of a second after I have the presence of mind to avert my eyes. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching his back as he does, and walks over to me.
“Hello, Miyagi. Long time, no talk”.
“Hi Mutou, how’re tricks?”
“Quite well, thanks. I take it you’re busy? I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
Not nearly as much of me as I’d like you to see, bubbles up a treacherous thought. I stamp it out before it can give rise to a blush.
“Yeah, well, what with filling in for Asakuro, and the astronomy club, I haven’t as much free time as I’d like.”
Oh God, why did I just say that? I don’t want him to think that I’m too busy to have a social life. Unless he thinks I’m playing hard to get. Does that really work with men?
He gives a slight grin at this. “I still haven’t figured out how they made you the head of that club. I am the Science teacher, after all.”
I match his grin with one I hope is as sure, and confident, and handso - Focus, woman! – as his own.
“Pedigree, Mutou. You may have learned about stars from lecturers and chalkboards, but I got mine from bedtime stories and pyjama parties with my Dad.”
He looks a little nonplussed at this, at about the point where I replay the last few words in my head. Dammit!
Before I can correct what I’ve said - and probably just dig myself into an even deeper hole - he chuckles wryly.
“Well, that’s certainly true. My first experiences with astronomy came from curriculums. I’ve been trying to expand my horizons since then, though.”
I’ve noticed. He devours science materials as if the next journal, the next article, the next paragraph, could contain some piece of arcane knowledge that might help change the very bedrock of the world we inhabit.
In his brain, it probably would.
“But at least I’ve got my own club to lead now. Do you know Hisao Nakai, from 3-3?”
Do I … oh. I instantly blush with the memory of our last interaction. Fortunately, Mutou misunderstands the significance of this.
“I’m sorry, you’ve only been teaching him a week or two. And he doesn’t exactly … stand out from the class.”
Now it’s Mutou’s turn to look abashed. Nakai looks normal, after all. In a way, it’s his most distinguishing feature.
“Anyway”, Mutou continues, “we’ve started a science club. Just the two of us. Once a week.”
He looks incredibly pleased with himself while he tells me this, as if he’d just been elected class representative or something. It’s more than a little sweet.
“Oh, cool!” Strangely, I feel the need to encourage him. He doesn’t really talk to many of the other teachers here, though no-one actively dislikes him, so far as I’m aware. It’s nice that he wants to tell me this, though.
“That’s a great idea! Hopefully, some more students will join as you go.”
He gives a big grin, almost as if he’s relieved at my reaction.
“Well, I thought Nakai would be interested and I … didn’t have much to do with my evenings, so … yeah.”
I give the clock a quick glance. Two minutes to class. And I still haven’t eaten. Dammit. Whether due to pressure of time, or hunger, or a desire to break the verging-on-uncomfortable silence that’s rapidly expanding between us, I do something very out of character. I take the initiative.
“Well … I don’t know what the remit of the science club is, exactly … but if you’d be interested in organising a joint activity with the astronomy club …”
He looks quizzically at me. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, the transit of Venus is due to happen on Thursday. The weather forecast predicts a clear night. We’ve already planned to take our telescopes up to the roof to … look at the sky.”
Seriously?! “Look at the sky?” That’s how you phrase it?! You could at least have said “conduct a series of astronomical observations” or something smart like that! You know, to show that you have words, and know how to use them! But never mind ol’ Brainy here, what do I know? It sometimes seems that you think with every other part of your anatomy first, before falling back on me!
I feel dumb. Why couldn’t the stupid initiative just stay where it was? It was nice there. It was comfortable. Why did I have to take it out from its natural spot? If twenty years of re-watching the Indiana Jones films has taught me anything, it’s that you should always, always leave things where you find them.
Mutou gives me an even bigger grin, bigger than any I’ve seen from him before.
“Sure. I’ll tell Nakai after class.”
___________________________________________________________
Happily, I’m too busy for the following few days to dwell too much on the possible implications of our joint activity – I mean, our joint clubs doing something together. In the school. As they should. Which is perfectly proper.
The school is nervous about letting students up on the roof as a rule. In general, a blind eye is turned during the day, and the astronomy club can usually expect a little leeway (aided by the fact that I don’t usually keep the management informed of our activities), but Mutou does things by the book, and the fact that he and Nakai aren’t technically part of the astronomy club threatens to cause all sorts of wrangles with the management. Eventually, after volunteering the club to clean the roof of its assorted debris (which includes several whiskey bottles – empty, unfortunately – and a single used condom: presumably, someone had an experience they’re not keen to repeat on cold, hard concrete), the red tape is sorted and we get permission.
I have the gruesome twosome, Masato and Sayuri, carry Akiko up the steps that evening, while Kei dutifully follows with her wheelchair. A few other members follow behind, with Nakai looking slightly forlorn at the back, trudging along beside Mutou. It’s strange to see Nakai by himself: from what little I’ve seen of him, he’s normally hanging around with some girl or other. Must have had some sort of a fight.
Mirabile dictu, after a dull and overcast day, the forecast was spot-on. The evening is dry, warm, with a slight breeze blowing from the south-southwe … stop it, Miyagi. You’re sounding like a shipping forecaster. I help set up the telescope, and a few tripods spring up, here and there. Misaki’s a regular with us now, and a couple of her fellow photographers … photographixes … photographices … whatever the hell … are with us tonight. Filtered glasses have been procured for all, making us look like a group of friends out at a 3D movie. Fine by me.
I generally take a laissez-faire approach to making sure everyone gets to have a turn: the competitive impulse isn’t quite as strong in Yamaku as other private schools, and the students are pretty conscientious about fitting everyone in. Nakai seems to be relaxing a little, and seems to be hovering close to Aoi. Whichever girl he had a fight with, he seems to be getting over her pretty quickly.
Mutou is standing apart from the group, staring up in fascination. I go to join him, and reflexively put my hand in my pocket for my cigarettes. They re-emerge holding an empty carton. Dammit.
“Want to take one of mine?”, Mutou asks. I turn to him while he takes out his own pack. Lucky Strikes. A man of impeccable taste.
We each light up, and go to sit near a corner of the roof: as is usually my way, we’re close enough to the students to keep an eye on them, but far enough that they’re not going to be looking at us unless they really want to.
We hear the excitement of the students mount as they each take a turn at the telescope, and we make sure to do so ourselves. I note that Nakai seems happy to forego his turn, preferring to sit by the opposite corner, deep in conversation with Aoi.
I only stay at the telescope for five or six minutes: everyone needs to have a turn, and we can’t stay out here all night. It’s a beautiful sight, though, and, after I wait for Mutou to take his turn and walk back to “our” corner with him, I continue to savour it in my mind’s eye. I guess, on the rare occasions that we get to compare ourselves to true brilliance, we should take them, even if just to make ourselves stand out a little more clearly from the dark.
When I emerge from my reverie, I see that Mutou is staring at the sky with an expression similar to what I imagine my own has just been. It seems a shame to interrupt his thoughts, but it would be an even bigger shame not to.
“What are you thinking?”
He turns to me, eyes suddenly bright with wonder.
“I was just looking up at those immense, powerful, lumps of gas and rock in the sky. Each of them lies many millions of light years from here. We will never see any of them up close, we will probably never really know what lies on, or beneath any of them. They are the enduring mysteries of the universe. Who knows how far they stretch, how many life forms could exist out there, how many plains of reality there might be? We can even take this thought further and ask: is Earth really the big deal that we make it out to be? In an infinite universe, are there not infinite Earths? In such an incomprehensibly large and complex universe, what am “I”? What is one person? Does anything I say, think or do, make even the slightest difference to the universe?”
He looks at me, not apparently agitated or consumed by existential dread, but seemingly just waiting for a response. But it’s way too late for philosophy.
“I think so”, I reply and press my lips to his.
Behind my eyes, I see only stars.
(And I'm perfectly aware that the transit of Venus took place in 2012, not 2007. It's not canon
)__________________________________________________________________________________________
Starbursts
“My name is Hisao Nakai and I like pussy.”
I slam my half-full mug of still-lukewarm coffee down onto the desk while I attempt to master my sudden fit of spluttering. That was a bad time to take a sip.
Fortunately, none of the other students seem to notice anything much out of the ordinary. Thank God for the low standard of Engrish in this class.
“That’s good, Nakai”, I respond, forcing down a half-mouthful of tepid liquid, “but it’s more … correct to say “My name is Hisao Nakai and I like cats.”
The transfer student’s brow furrows.
“But … Mr Asakuro told us that ‘pussy’ was just another word for ‘pet cats’.”
Yes, I bet he did. That creep was nearly as bad as Nomiya. I was quickly deputised to take his classes two weeks ago, after he was put on indefinite leave of absence.
Hentai found on a grown man’s computer … sick.
But back to the problem at hand.
“Well, Nakai … even though that can sometimes be the case … it’s more correct to only use that word towards your own pet cat. In private. Where no-one can hear you.”
Please, oh please, let that suffice.
Nakai lets out a faint sigh, as if despairing of his grasp of the subject, but doesn’t force the issue. Nor does anyone else, despite the somewhat oblique nature of my attempt to discourage unwitting vulgarities. The shrill sound of the lunch bell has never been more welcome.
Although I’m required to stay in class for another minute, in case any of the students have questions, most of them seem only too happy to push their way out. I guess they want to make sure they eat before their next class.
Double Science.
Mutou.
I take a last glance around the room. Ikezawa is the only student left, sitting at her desk and reading a Japanese translation of The Remains of the Day. It seems unusual for her to take an interest in British (or British-Japanese, I guess) culture, but I have seen her walking with Satou, my star pupil, before.
I pack up my books and casually walk out of class. Star pupil … star-crossed lovers … wish upon a star. Strange how we know so little about them, how distant they can seem, but how dependent upon them we can let ourselves become. Not that I’m into anything like astrology, mind. Far too irrational.
"Star, star, teach me how to shine, shine. Teach me so I know what’s going on in your mind",
I hum softly to myself as I walk. Since being given Asakuro’s 3-3 classes, as well as my own in 3-2, I’m a lot busier but I don’t mind. The extra money helps.
It would be nice to have someone to spend it on, though.
I make my way down the hall to the staffroom and make my way to the corner where my locker is. It’s pretty well placed. Mutou’s spot is a little further down, closer to the centre, but not so far that I can’t subtly take a quick look at him anytime I feel the need. Which is not as seldom as I might like to pretend.
He’s sitting comfortably in his usual red leather chair (Yamaku has some very generous donors), reading a science magazine with a front page reading “Can CERN simulate the Big Bang?”.
Whatever about CERN, I sure wish he’d … no. NO. Earth to Miyagi. Do you read?
I continue watching him while he reads. As always, he seems utterly absorbed by what he’s reading. That man never does things by halves. I have no idea how to catch his attention, nor am I even sure that I want to. Sitting in front of me, filling that mind with the mysteries of life – the universe – everything – he’s just too Mutou to disturb.
For me, anyway. Clearly, not everyone feels that way. I watch as Yuuko approaches him. She usually has her head in the clouds, that one does. Heh. Not stars, but it’ll do. Still, I try to keep my eye on her while she speaks to him. Going by some of the rumours I’ve heard, he’s about twenty years too old for her to be interested, but there’s no reason to let my guard down.
“E-excuse me? Mutou-san?”
Slowly, he turns his head towards her, as if he’s an explorer on a far-distant planet who has just encountered an alien life form of uncertain friendliness.
“Yuuko? How can I help you?”
“I was just w-wondering … if I could borrow th-that magazine when you’re f-finished. For the l-library. We sh-should have more stock but it k-keeps … vanishing.”
Mutou continues watching her for a moment, as if deliberating, slowly and painstakingly. Finally, he gives a quick nod.
“Okay.”
“Thankyousomuch! Thatsveryhelpfulofyou! Okaybye!”
Yuuko gives a quick bow, turns on her heel and flees for the door, nearly knocking a table over in her haste. Space cadet.
Mutou frowns at his page in the magazine a few moments longer, but eventually folds it and sets it down. He gazes around the staffroom and spies me, a fortunate fraction of a second after I have the presence of mind to avert my eyes. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching his back as he does, and walks over to me.
“Hello, Miyagi. Long time, no talk”.
“Hi Mutou, how’re tricks?”
“Quite well, thanks. I take it you’re busy? I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
Not nearly as much of me as I’d like you to see, bubbles up a treacherous thought. I stamp it out before it can give rise to a blush.
“Yeah, well, what with filling in for Asakuro, and the astronomy club, I haven’t as much free time as I’d like.”
Oh God, why did I just say that? I don’t want him to think that I’m too busy to have a social life. Unless he thinks I’m playing hard to get. Does that really work with men?
He gives a slight grin at this. “I still haven’t figured out how they made you the head of that club. I am the Science teacher, after all.”
I match his grin with one I hope is as sure, and confident, and handso - Focus, woman! – as his own.
“Pedigree, Mutou. You may have learned about stars from lecturers and chalkboards, but I got mine from bedtime stories and pyjama parties with my Dad.”
He looks a little nonplussed at this, at about the point where I replay the last few words in my head. Dammit!
Before I can correct what I’ve said - and probably just dig myself into an even deeper hole - he chuckles wryly.
“Well, that’s certainly true. My first experiences with astronomy came from curriculums. I’ve been trying to expand my horizons since then, though.”
I’ve noticed. He devours science materials as if the next journal, the next article, the next paragraph, could contain some piece of arcane knowledge that might help change the very bedrock of the world we inhabit.
In his brain, it probably would.
“But at least I’ve got my own club to lead now. Do you know Hisao Nakai, from 3-3?”
Do I … oh. I instantly blush with the memory of our last interaction. Fortunately, Mutou misunderstands the significance of this.
“I’m sorry, you’ve only been teaching him a week or two. And he doesn’t exactly … stand out from the class.”
Now it’s Mutou’s turn to look abashed. Nakai looks normal, after all. In a way, it’s his most distinguishing feature.
“Anyway”, Mutou continues, “we’ve started a science club. Just the two of us. Once a week.”
He looks incredibly pleased with himself while he tells me this, as if he’d just been elected class representative or something. It’s more than a little sweet.
“Oh, cool!” Strangely, I feel the need to encourage him. He doesn’t really talk to many of the other teachers here, though no-one actively dislikes him, so far as I’m aware. It’s nice that he wants to tell me this, though.
“That’s a great idea! Hopefully, some more students will join as you go.”
He gives a big grin, almost as if he’s relieved at my reaction.
“Well, I thought Nakai would be interested and I … didn’t have much to do with my evenings, so … yeah.”
I give the clock a quick glance. Two minutes to class. And I still haven’t eaten. Dammit. Whether due to pressure of time, or hunger, or a desire to break the verging-on-uncomfortable silence that’s rapidly expanding between us, I do something very out of character. I take the initiative.
“Well … I don’t know what the remit of the science club is, exactly … but if you’d be interested in organising a joint activity with the astronomy club …”
He looks quizzically at me. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, the transit of Venus is due to happen on Thursday. The weather forecast predicts a clear night. We’ve already planned to take our telescopes up to the roof to … look at the sky.”
Seriously?! “Look at the sky?” That’s how you phrase it?! You could at least have said “conduct a series of astronomical observations” or something smart like that! You know, to show that you have words, and know how to use them! But never mind ol’ Brainy here, what do I know? It sometimes seems that you think with every other part of your anatomy first, before falling back on me!
I feel dumb. Why couldn’t the stupid initiative just stay where it was? It was nice there. It was comfortable. Why did I have to take it out from its natural spot? If twenty years of re-watching the Indiana Jones films has taught me anything, it’s that you should always, always leave things where you find them.
Mutou gives me an even bigger grin, bigger than any I’ve seen from him before.
“Sure. I’ll tell Nakai after class.”
___________________________________________________________
Happily, I’m too busy for the following few days to dwell too much on the possible implications of our joint activity – I mean, our joint clubs doing something together. In the school. As they should. Which is perfectly proper.
The school is nervous about letting students up on the roof as a rule. In general, a blind eye is turned during the day, and the astronomy club can usually expect a little leeway (aided by the fact that I don’t usually keep the management informed of our activities), but Mutou does things by the book, and the fact that he and Nakai aren’t technically part of the astronomy club threatens to cause all sorts of wrangles with the management. Eventually, after volunteering the club to clean the roof of its assorted debris (which includes several whiskey bottles – empty, unfortunately – and a single used condom: presumably, someone had an experience they’re not keen to repeat on cold, hard concrete), the red tape is sorted and we get permission.
I have the gruesome twosome, Masato and Sayuri, carry Akiko up the steps that evening, while Kei dutifully follows with her wheelchair. A few other members follow behind, with Nakai looking slightly forlorn at the back, trudging along beside Mutou. It’s strange to see Nakai by himself: from what little I’ve seen of him, he’s normally hanging around with some girl or other. Must have had some sort of a fight.
Mirabile dictu, after a dull and overcast day, the forecast was spot-on. The evening is dry, warm, with a slight breeze blowing from the south-southwe … stop it, Miyagi. You’re sounding like a shipping forecaster. I help set up the telescope, and a few tripods spring up, here and there. Misaki’s a regular with us now, and a couple of her fellow photographers … photographixes … photographices … whatever the hell … are with us tonight. Filtered glasses have been procured for all, making us look like a group of friends out at a 3D movie. Fine by me.
I generally take a laissez-faire approach to making sure everyone gets to have a turn: the competitive impulse isn’t quite as strong in Yamaku as other private schools, and the students are pretty conscientious about fitting everyone in. Nakai seems to be relaxing a little, and seems to be hovering close to Aoi. Whichever girl he had a fight with, he seems to be getting over her pretty quickly.
Mutou is standing apart from the group, staring up in fascination. I go to join him, and reflexively put my hand in my pocket for my cigarettes. They re-emerge holding an empty carton. Dammit.
“Want to take one of mine?”, Mutou asks. I turn to him while he takes out his own pack. Lucky Strikes. A man of impeccable taste.
We each light up, and go to sit near a corner of the roof: as is usually my way, we’re close enough to the students to keep an eye on them, but far enough that they’re not going to be looking at us unless they really want to.
We hear the excitement of the students mount as they each take a turn at the telescope, and we make sure to do so ourselves. I note that Nakai seems happy to forego his turn, preferring to sit by the opposite corner, deep in conversation with Aoi.
I only stay at the telescope for five or six minutes: everyone needs to have a turn, and we can’t stay out here all night. It’s a beautiful sight, though, and, after I wait for Mutou to take his turn and walk back to “our” corner with him, I continue to savour it in my mind’s eye. I guess, on the rare occasions that we get to compare ourselves to true brilliance, we should take them, even if just to make ourselves stand out a little more clearly from the dark.
When I emerge from my reverie, I see that Mutou is staring at the sky with an expression similar to what I imagine my own has just been. It seems a shame to interrupt his thoughts, but it would be an even bigger shame not to.
“What are you thinking?”
He turns to me, eyes suddenly bright with wonder.
“I was just looking up at those immense, powerful, lumps of gas and rock in the sky. Each of them lies many millions of light years from here. We will never see any of them up close, we will probably never really know what lies on, or beneath any of them. They are the enduring mysteries of the universe. Who knows how far they stretch, how many life forms could exist out there, how many plains of reality there might be? We can even take this thought further and ask: is Earth really the big deal that we make it out to be? In an infinite universe, are there not infinite Earths? In such an incomprehensibly large and complex universe, what am “I”? What is one person? Does anything I say, think or do, make even the slightest difference to the universe?”
He looks at me, not apparently agitated or consumed by existential dread, but seemingly just waiting for a response. But it’s way too late for philosophy.
“I think so”, I reply and press my lips to his.
Behind my eyes, I see only stars.
.