Chapter Text
The great heft of the man sitting behind the desk made everything else within his office seem a half-size too small.
Maybe that’s why being here made you feel like such a child.
Clearing his throat, Principal Kobayakawa shifted in his seat. You could hear the fabric of his ill-fitting tan suit straining against him as he moved. A new outfit and a good tailor would have done wonders for the man, but this suit was yet another example of how he handled everything in his administration—clinging to relics of better days, even if it hurt, in stubborn denial that anything could ever change for the worse.
“As you no doubt have realized,” Kobayakawa began, “our student body is experiencing an unprecedented mental health crisis. With all these terrible rumors surrounding Kamoshida-kun, and that poor, troubled girl’s suicide attempt—”
“Suzui-san,” you said.
“What was that?”
“Her name is Suzui Shiho, sir. And they aren’t ‘rumors.’ We all heard Kamoshida-san’s confession earlier this month.”
“Ah, yes—the confession he gave under suspicious circumstances, backed by no substantial evidence? That confession?”
“The police thought my records substantial enough to take them.”
“Which brings me to my next point.” Kobayakawa leaned into his desk, his red bowtie nearly swallowed beneath the choked-tight folds of his neck. “I find it truly curious how you’ve managed to keep such extensive documentation on our athletes’ training injuries, while simultaneously failing to realize one of them was planning on throwing herself off the roof.”
“With all due respect, sir,” you began, willing yourself to keep calm even as your blood began to simmer, “I’m not a therapist. I do what I can, but most students don’t trust me that way.”
“Perhaps if they did, Suzui-san would still be here.”
The bottom of your stomach fell out and took all your fight along with it.
Kobayakawa leaned back in his chair, his agitation fading. Whatever expression you were making was enough of a victory on his part to temper his ire.
“As I was saying,” he continued, “because our current mental health support is clearly lacking, I’ve hired a part-time counselor to provide our students with proper guidance. He will be holding sessions out of the health room, starting tomorrow. Make sure he has a place to work.”
‘Tomorrow?’ you thought, aghast. ‘Reallocating space with less than a day’s notice? In the middle of annual physicals?’
“Is there a problem?”
‘You’re built like a fucking thumb.’ “No, sir. I’ll handle it.”
“See that you do. You’re dismissed.”
-
The rest of your workday was spent rearranging furniture and seething quietly—alone, of course, because asking for help somehow felt like admitting defeat.
You didn’t want the new hire or his incoming student traffic crossing through the health room any more than they needed to, so you rolled up your sleeves and got to work, clearing out clutter from a long-neglected corner by the door.
Until now, you had been the only medical professional on-staff for all of Shujin Academy. At first, you were grateful to be hired for such a position so quickly after your licensing; considering your lack of experience, landing a full-time job at a prestigious prep school in the heart of Tokyo was a miracle. However, your debut semester made the reason for the vacancy clear: the volume of medical care and professional obligations required of the position was not meant for one person.
Even now, as you were finally being given support in the form of an additional hire, you were still being made to feel like you were failing a job in which you’d never been equipped to succeed. There were simply not enough hours in the day for you to assess the mental health needs of every single student that passed through your doors. Because of this, most didn’t bother coming to you for help at all.
Perhaps if they did, Suzui-san would still be here.
You thought about how often Mishima Yuuki would visit for new bandages, or to have a fresh bruise examined to make sure it wasn’t anything worse. You thought about how many times Suzui Shiho took respite in your office, silent and downtrodden, unable to look you in the eyes anytime she was there. Your interactions with the school’s illustrious volleyball team were through gauze and disinfectant and elastic wrappings, through meticulously recorded incidents that were left in files to rot.
Maybe you could have done more. Maybe you did fail them.
With a final, frustrated shove, the repurposed waiting area chair you’d been dragging around shifted into place.
After several hours of cleaning and reorganizing, you were finished.
Sighing, you tried to catch your breath as you wiped the sweat from your brow, the sleeves of your dress shirt bunched up hastily above your elbows. You’d hung up your lab coat and taken off your shoes before you began shuffling things around; between the messy bangs sticking to your forehead, and the fact you were standing on the health room’s checkered-green floor in your socks, you looked like an absolute wreck.
No better time for the door you thought you locked to fly open without warning.
Principal Kobayakawa entered the office with a taller man in tow, the latter holding a cardboard box in his arms.
You watched them like a deer in the headlights.
A sweaty, disheveled, shoeless deer.
Kobayakawa’s tone was gentle and infuriating. “Oh, my apologies—I thought you would have headed home by now,” he lied. “Dr. Maruki, may I introduce you to our school nurse.”
The bespectacled man leaned over for a proper glance, and even his eyes seemed to smile when they found you. “Hey, there.”
Opposite to your own botched first impression, Dr. Maruki seemed well-put-together; his rectangular lenses were simple and practical, his shaggy brown hair styled and well-kept. The way he was radiating with nervous excitement gave him a youthful charm, while the touch of goatee at his chin added enough maturity to keep his appearance from skewing too young. He had the sort of kind face and warm smile that interviewed well and eased the nerves of those around him. Mild-mannered and inoffensive.
The perfect stooge to navigate the administration’s PR nightmare.
As Kobayakawa couldn’t seem to be bothered, you introduced yourself to the new hire by name before bowing his way. “Looking forward to working with you.”
“Right, of course, thank you for having me—” Maruki, flustered at having forgotten his manners, returned your bow at once. A bundle of mismatched pens spilled out from his cardboard box. “Oh, s--sorry—”
Still facing the floor mid-bow, you watched his loose pens scatter miserably across the checkered-green floor. You realized he was wearing sandals.
Exposed toes in your sterile work environment.
You already loathed this man.
Kobayakawa made himself scarce with a short goodbye, as you and Maruki were left to crawl across the office, cleaning up the spill.
“Thank you—and sorry about that, again.” Maruki tossed the last of the pens back into his cardboard box. “I really appreciate you sharing your space while I’m here.”
“I wasn’t given much of a choice,” you said, sliding your shoes back on, “but you’re welcome.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll do my best to stay out of your hair. They assigned a carrel for me in the faculty office, meaning all those pens get to be someone else’s eyesore, haha.”
“Okay.”
“Looks like you were doing some redecorating! Need help moving anything while I’m here? I’m stronger than I look, you know.”
“No need, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Guess all that’s left is to prep for my big debut tomorrow, huh?”
“Mhm.”
You plopped yourself back into the rolling chair at your desk and returned to your paperwork. With Kobayakawa gone and some time put between yourself and the day’s events, you hoped the tension that had coiled itself between your shoulders would loosen up enough for you to be able to focus, again.
At least, that’s what you hoped.
You were used to irregular traffic throughout the day, so you paid little mind to Maruki shuffling around the health room while he set up his things. As luck would have it, he was only distracting when he was standing still.
In your peripheral, you watched as he idled near the entrance with a hand on his chin, appraising the corner you’d set up for him. He would then make miniscule adjustments—shifting the table an inch, turning a chair a few degrees—before stepping back to reassess the scene.
Squeak. Silence. Creak. Silence. Screeeeeeeeeeech.
He went on to sit and bounce on each individual cushion to test them for comfort, like he was trying out furniture in a showroom.
You waited until he left again to get up from your desk and take a closer look at the posters he pinned to the boards. Most were sheets about mental health: colorful charts and infographics labeled with population statistics, laundry lists of symptoms to be aware of—all fairly standard, except for one.
Standing out from the rest was a motivational poster featuring a terrified kitten dangling from a tree branch, and the words Hang In There! emblazoned across the negative space in the tackiest font you’d ever seen in your life. The poster was a quirky, silly outlier among its brethren. A kitschy lifeboat floating in a Helvetica and Corporate Memphis sea.
(It was also crooked. Just a little.)
Maruki returned with a basket filled with juice boxes and individually-packaged treats. “Hey, do you have anywhere I can put these?”
“...sorry.”
Shrugging, he rested the basket on one of your rolling trays without asking, taking a juice box for himself and plugging the straw in.
You should have been celebrating.
You should have been elated about you and your kids finally getting the support you needed, but bitterness lingered in the aftertaste, poisoning the pride you were trying so hard to swallow. How much time had Principal Kobayakawa wasted brushing off your concerns about Kamoshida’s abuse? How many signs did he ignore or bury, and how many of them were yours? Yet this was still your fault, somehow?
And when a student gets pushed past her limit, Kobayakawa hires this guy? This unthreatening, band-aid-fix of a man who planned on tackling a potential schoolwide crisis with snacks and funny cat pictures? He couldn’t have been much older than you were—was he even qualified to work with these kids, or did Kobayakawa shit the bed on that part, too?
Meeting your gaze, Maruki tilted his head and raised his juicebox at you. “Want one?”
“...we work at a high school, Maruki-sensei, not a kindergarten.”
You returned to your desk, ignoring the sudden falter in his spirits and pretending you didn’t feel like you’d just kicked a puppy.
Maruki was formally introduced at the daily faculty meeting the following morning. He wore a lab coat similar to yours, now, along with a light blue dress shirt, a checkered blue tie, and a red lanyard with a name badge marking him as outside counsel. Here, you learned he was an accomplished and well-educated man, having stepped away from his own cognitive therapy clinic to take on his current position at the school.
You felt like an ass for doubting his credentials. He was certainly more educated than you were.
The other teachers were quick to fawn over him as you all headed to afternoon assembly together. You couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but even from your position at the back of the group, you could tell he carried himself well.
Even if he dared to go on-stage in sandals.
By the time Maruki introduced himself to the assembly, the student crowd was already buzzing with whispered compliments and hushed giggles about how attractive him and his voice were. For how well things were going, you were expecting him to deliver a short, polished introduction, choice words gently prepared and humbly offered as a beacon of encouragement to any students who felt trapped in the dark. (And then everyone would clap.)
Instead, in all of his clumsy, well-intentioned glory, he embarrassed himself on-stage.
It happened again on the way back to your office. You overheard him offer his counseling services to a few students in the courtyard, only for him to get shut down almost instantly, forcing him to maneuver his way back into their favor.
Memories from that awkward morning kept replaying in your head throughout the day, over and over on loop. Even as you stayed late after school, crouched behind a bookcase to reorganize files on the lower shelves, you’d get flashbacks to his missteps until the secondhand embarrassment made you cringe.
No one deserved that. No one.
You may have had some feelings about the circumstances of his employment, but that didn’t mean you wanted to see him fail.
The door to the health room slid open while you were still hidden away. You heard it close shut before a familiar voice heaved a very heavy sigh.
You peeked around the bookcase you were kneeling behind.
Maruki leaned back against the door, his shoulders slouched in dejection. After a few moments, he approached the corkboard nearby and touched a weary hand to the crooked poster of the branch-clinging kitten, patting the top of its head. “We’re really in over our heads now, aren’t we, buddy?”
Oh, dear.
“Um...Maruki-sensei?”
Startled, he yelped and jumped a little, whipping around to face you.
“Sorry!” You raised your hands, placating. “I didn’t mean to scare you—”
“No, no, it’s alright, I just thought you were already—ah, well, that was embarrassing.” He laughed, helplessly. “Anyway, I...don’t mean to kick you out of your own office, but I do have drop-in hours I need to prepare for, so...”
“You're right, I shouldn’t be here,” you said, scrambling to your feet. “Forgot to keep an eye on the clock today, sorry.”
“Please, it’s alright—this is an adjustment period for both of us. I’m sorry you had to see...” He gestured at the poster behind him, too ashamed to face that which he once so lovingly pet.
Your first instinct was to lie and say you didn’t see anything, but you thought better of it.
Logically, you knew you were being unreasonable. Logically, you knew your frustrations stemmed from something that wasn’t his fault and had nothing to do with his capabilities or the good he could do for the school. You were both on the same side, here, and you really needed to apologize for how petty you were being.
“...Maruki-sensei, I—”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re—what?”
“I think I may have taken Kobayakawa-san’s offer to ‘make myself at home’ a little too seriously,” he chuckled. “It can’t be easy having to share your office with the new guy—and here I am, putting up posters and bringing in food like I own the place. I should’ve been more considerate of you.” He brightened up, a new idea dawning on him. “Tell you what—I’m not here on Saturdays, but I’ll bring you a treat first thing Monday morning to make up for it. Do you like coffee? Tea? How do you take it?”
You shook your head. “You don’t need to go through the trouble—”
“No trouble at all,” he beamed. “I insist.”
With your intent to apologize all but forgotten, you felt your weakened defenses being disarmed piece-by-piece, courtesy of a kind face and well-kept hair and eyes that smiled when they saw you.
What could you do but accept?
You learned Maruki was a morning person, because of course he was.
You always made it a point to arrive at school much earlier than most—not only to beat the morning transit rush, but to also get a headstart on your paperwork for the day, the latter being doubly important now that you were losing your extra after-school hours four times a week.
Hearing your door slide open within an hour of your arrival was an unexpected surprise.
You could practically feel Maruki’s presence across the room, charged with energy no human should be capable of before 7am.
“Good morning, Maruki-sensei,” you offered, in the kindest voice you could muster this early.
“Morning! Looks like someone’s an early riser.”
“Not by choice, I assure you.” As you continued pouring over your documents, an airtight thermos was placed gently on the desk in front of you. “...what’s this?”
“Your drink. The one I asked you about last week, remember?”
“This is...” You sat up. “I thought you were just going to make a stop on the way here?”
“Now where’s the fun in that?” he laughed, raising his own thermos. It was identical to yours, save for the colour. “Besides, take-out cups would probably be more difficult to bike here with...”
Now that he mentioned it, you noticed he did look a bit flushed. “You bike to school?”
“Whenever I can! I wouldn’t get much exercise, otherwise...” Maruki turned to leave, raising his hand in a little half-wave goodbye. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it—I need to prepare for homeroom. Just leave the thermos at your desk and I’ll take it with me on my way out, okay?”
“...thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
You stared at the bottle now cradled in your hands. The heat from the insulated metal warmed you up nicely. You hadn’t even realized you were cold.
To think, he made you a drink at home and brought it with him all the way to school...
You swung around in your rolling chair. “Maruki-sensei?”
Hand on the door, he stopped to look back at you. “Yes?”
“...do you have a minute to talk?”
-
“So you have your Nursing License and your Yogo Teacher’s License,” Maruki said, nodding with fascination. “That’s an impressive amount of training. Shujin is very lucky to have someone with your expertise on-staff.”
You shook your head and raised a hand to wave off the compliment, though you went a little pink around the ears. “The sports programs are very important to the Academy. They just needed a school nurse who could properly attend to the athletes.”
“And you’ve been doing all that work alone?”
“Until now, yes.” You kept your tone neutral. You didn’t think it was wise to be completely honest about your feelings. “That’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. I’m...very, very grateful to have you here. The way I treated you the other day was completely unprofessional, and I’m sorry.”
“No apologies needed, I understand why you felt so protective. This school is your territory, after all. I’m just passing through.” Maruki folded his hands in his lap. “If it helps, think of me as a visitor setting up a tent here for a little while. I’m going by campsite rules, and I’ll do my best to leave this place in a better state than when I found it. As a matter of fact, to that end, I was told to prioritize students who needed counseling the most—those directly affected by Kamoshida-san.”
Your blood ran cold at the sound of his name.
“Good. That’s...good.” Still seated, you bowed gently in Maruki’s direction, your fingers clutching tight around the drink in your hands. “Please look after them. They need support where I failed to gain their trust.”
“This has nothing to do with you.” He leaned forward in his chair. “These children were made to feel powerless. What happened was not your fault and doesn’t speak to any sort of failure on your part.”
Suddenly, you became hyperaware of where Maruki was sitting, where you were sitting, and how this was exactly how his appointments were positioned. It felt like standing in the Principal’s office.
It felt like being a child.
“I don’t mean for this to turn into a therapy session,” you said, unable to disguise the edge in your tone. “Thank you for being here to help our students.”
Maruki replied with a nervous laugh. “Sorry if I crossed a line, I was moreso trying to validate your efforts. Besides, everyone needs someone to talk to.”
“And who do you talk to, Doctor?”
His smile turned somber. “You don’t trust me.”
“What matters is that our students trust you,” you said coolly. “It doesn’t matter if I do.”
“Respectfully, I disagree. It matters to me a great deal.” He gave a gentle shrug of his shoulders. “I can’t say I blame you for not trusting me, though. After all that’s happened, everyone’s faith in the faculty must be shaken to its core...regardless, is there anything I can do to help put your mind at ease? Any questions for me at all? I promise I’ll try to answer as truthfully as I can.”
You took another long, silent sip from your thermos while collecting your thoughts. For all your efforts to make amends and move forward on friendly terms, you ended up showing too much of your hand, revealing enough doubt to call his attention. You had to choose your next words carefully. No names, no accusations. Nothing that could be used against you later.
“Like you said, my position as school nurse comes with a lot of responsibilities," you began. "I’ve put in several requests for a school counsellor during my time here, and yet they only chose to hire you after something bad happened.” For the first time during the entire discussion, you met his eyes. “To be frank, I don’t know whose interests you represent.”
“I see...” Maruki placed a hand on his chin. “My first meeting with Kobayakawa-san happened the afternoon following Suzui Shiho’s attempt on her own life, but I didn’t hear anything back until Kamoshida-san turned himself in.”
“...you were here back in April?”
“I was, yes.”
“But why?” you demanded. “Why leave a private practice for a shared office and a pay cut?”
“Because there are people here who need my help, and I was in a position to give it,” he said simply. “I can’t speak to the character of the administration, but I care about the well-being of the students here. I can’t stand to see them unable to reach out to anyone about their pain. And to think, I only just got here...you’ve already seen them through so much, completely alone.” Maruki held a hand to his chest and levelled your gaze. “You asked me where my interests lie. The answer is here, with you and your students—that much, I promise you. I will not let you down.”
The moment fell into a brief silence—a staring contest between caution and conviction.
Caution blinked.
You reached into your pocket and pulled out a keyring with two small keys dangling from the loop. You tossed them his way. He fumbled a little with the catch.
“One’s for the spare filing cabinet by my desk, the other’s for the mini-fridge in the back. You can store your snacks wherever you like.” You stood up from the repurposed waiting room chair and made your way back over to your desk, taking your thermos with you. “Please don’t touch my pudding cups.”
