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dantheserialkillerman · 10 months

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Hiroki Dan X GN!Teacher (one shot)

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader and Age Difference General warning: Medium-length post (1,461 words) TW: Possessiveness/Yandere vibes Characters: Hiroki Dan and You

– There is a theory called The Green World by Northrop Fry. It's actually quite simple. Shakespeare's comedies follow a structure: in spring, the fertility month, the characters transition from the everyday world, faced with societal bondage, to the wild, where everything becomes topsy turvy, back to the ordinary world renewed and unbound. As you skimmed your class, you couldn't help but wonder if the same theory also applied to your life. This moment did feel wild.

– The semester is your first as a teacher at one of Toyko's most highly regarded private high schools, and according to the curious stares from your students, they don't know what to make of you. It sets you on edge. Yet, there is also great excitement as you finally have fulfilled your dream of educating the next generation after years of studying. Is there a word for both terror and elation? Perhaps euphoria? It did once mean to be removed from one's body. However, frisson seems to settle in your mind. Your hair does feel on end.

– One..two...three...breath...one...two...three...breath. You repeat this phrase over and over again as you start your lesson. This subject is your favourite, and not to brag, but you are an expert in this field; the school would have never hired you otherwise, and the parents would have you fired, flayed, and put out front as a warning for everyone else. Even some universities would pale in comparison. These are households of politicians, millionaires, and businessmen. The top of the top and greatness ensures they only produce greatness, or at least the image of it.

– Everything seems to be going well; to your surprise, the kids are actively engaged, yet you cannot help but sense an uneasiness. You feel dissected, like a butterfly being prepped for a display case. When turning around, an intensity makes you pause over a word to prevent a stutter. You swear unseen hands are rushing over your body as if to hold you and say, "Stay still; I deserve to look," for what reason you don't know. It's nerves, you tell yourself, focus on the lesson; you can't mess up the first class.

– But it happens again during the next lesson. Then, the one after that. Again and again until finally, when handing back the first assignment, you meet the cause after class.

– It was Autumn when the weather couldn't decide if it wished to be hot or cold, the leaves turning into a violent swarm of reds and oranges as if the trees were on fire. It had been a long day; you had to send someone to the head office for interrupting class, forgot your lunch, and were stuck grading papers. The only people still here were after-school clubs and occasionally teachers you heard walking in the halls.

– You were so absorbed in your work that you couldn't help but jump when you felt a tap on your shoulder and a soft "Excuse me" in your ear. Looking up in shock, you are surprised to see a man...well, a teenager. Handsome for his age, most likely eighteen and in his final year, with a shock of dark hair and eyes against pale skin, a warm smile breaks the otherwise monochrome facade. An image of Adder Snake flashes in your mind when he tilts his head and beams...it is as if he enjoyed scaring you.

– "Oh, I'm sorry, professor," he places a hand over his heart and straightens, "I merely wanted to get your attention." His eyes are so black that you can see your own startled reflection, and despite being in a more senior position, how small you look compared to this boy. You hate it.

– "It's fine," you look at the clock, "it's past five; shouldn't you be heading home, or is there something I can help you with?" You attempt to clean your desk to make it look moderately presentable. In reality, you wanted to seem busy so you didn't have to look him in the eye again. There was something profoundly unnerving about how he could pin you down with merely a look.

– His hand moves gracefully into his bag and pulls out a piece of paper; you recognize it as the recently returned assignment from your afternoon class. He places it delicately on your desk, atop the other essays you were grading. Pompous little shit, you couldn't help but think. You tilt over and see the grade, a ninety-five, the highest score you gave out recently.

– Picking up the paper, you hold it out for the student to take back, "It was very well-written and researched, particularly the second paragraph. Congratulations..." You quickly glance at the paper, hopefully discreetly, "Hiroki-kun." The name settled in your mouth like honey, sticking to your throat unpleasantly despite how sweet it sounded.

– He leans against the desk, the same plain smile upon his face and a light chuckle escaping his upturned lips. There is an uneasiness in the air, that pressure you felt during the day in increments, dilating in this very moment.

– "Thank you," he moves closer, and you realize the door is closed; who shut it? "But I wanted to ask," Closer, "what could I have done to have gained that extra five percent?"

– "I..." You feel speechless, your face hot from panic, "Well...you could've shortened it, perhaps?" Say anything to get him to leave.

– "That's it?"

– "It was written very well; I wouldn't worry about your grade."

– He takes the paper and folds it absent-mindedly, "I will take it to heart," as if to prove it, he holds the essay to his chest, "You are my favourite teacher here, and any advice you give me is a great help." To your horror, he looks somewhat bashful. Yet, it would be a lie to say it didn't stroke your ego.

– You clear your throat, "Thank you, but it is getting late-"

– "Let me walk you to your bike." You wonder how he knew you biked to school? "My father is the police superintendent General, and I am also heading out; I don't want someone so..." He looks down to where you are sitting, "vulnerable to walk outside by themselves."

– You weighed the options in your head. Saying no could hurt your reputation; this was the kid of a high-ranking official, and if you pissed off Daddy, you would be fired on the spot. Was it unnerving and inappropriate? Yes. But you couldn't think of a way to worm your way out of this dilemma. It was a true dichotomy.

– "I wouldn't want to burden a young man like yourself...."

– His smile stretched wider, so vast you could count each pearly white tooth. What big teeth you have..." It would be my pleasure."

– Hiroki demanded to carry your briefcase and, while you walked, asked miscellaneous questions about your life. How old are you? Do you live alone? Are you Married? How far do you live from campus? You tried to answer him subtly, attempting to dodge the questions with little skill. You cursed the school for being so big and your pupil for being such a slow walker.

– Ten minutes later, you reach your bike. Or where it should have been. Nothing but the chain was attached to the fence. You look around and quickly conclude that someone has stolen it. Man, I'm a fucking genius, you thought sarcastically, but you had to Act professionally. Act bloody professional. Oh, God, how in the living hell would you get back to your dingy little apartment?

– "People these days," Hiroki shook his head, "my father has been trying to tamper down the rise in petty crime such as this," he slung your case over his shoulder, "but it seems he has a long way to go."

– You pushed your forehead in stress, "It's fine, I'll just take public transport." And it would be awful in that crowded cart filled with annoyed people.

– "Nonsense," He turned and started to walk towards the parking lot; in confusion, you began to follow him, "I own a car, and someone like yourself wouldn't be safe on public transport." He looked over his shoulder, and you felt your stomach sink, "I'll drive you home." Shit.

– "It's fine, really. Plus, you're a student-"

– "My father would never forgive me if I left you in such a state. Alone. Defenceless. I mean," He stopped and turned. Suddenly, you recognized how tall and broad he was as he towered over you. "I could attack you right now, and you would have no way to defend yourself." His left eye twitched softly like he trying to keep a particular thought at bay, and you felt your lungs freeze, "But you're lucky," He chuckled, "I would never harm my favourite teacher." The air seemed to stop momentarily as if the sky held its breath for what he would say next. "I only want to do a good deed," Another laugh, "They make me feel blessed," and softly grabbing your hand and bringing it to his cheek, he tilted his head into your palm, whispering, "Won't you bless me, teacher?"

– You wondered if Northrop Fry had a theory on Shakespearian tragedy. What dark world were you being brought into by those eyes?

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