Read or Die:Volume1 Chapter1

Chapter 1: The Two Sensei

Cherry petals were dotted across the pavement, seemingly the last vestiges of spring.

Up the road that led through the school’s gate, groups of girls walked at a measured pace, their forms wrapped in uniform blazers.

Two weeks had passed since the start of the new school year, and the early nervousness had now faded from every face. In its stead, relaxation or, even at this early stage, boredom, would peek through before being hidden away.

The first-years were discussing the fact that high school apparently wasn’t going to be a mere extension of middle school; the second-years were enjoying putting off concrete concerns about their next so-called battle, the college examinations; and the third-years were lost in uneasiness-tinged dreams of whether they would, in a year’s time, find themselves standing on that battle’s winning or losing side.

It could be said that the road that lead to Kakinezaka Metropolitan High School was a model of peace and tranquility.

To examine the quality of the individual students, while there were probably a few problem students, there hadn’t been any incidents severe enough to warrant coverage in newspapers or magazines.

As far as schools went, this one had no real distinguishing characteristics, and due to that, was known to local teachers to be a “no-risk” school. Thus, this school should be as calm as could be expected of a city school.

Up the hill to this peaceful academy, a single woman walked in the midst of the students.

Although the sun’s rays were already quite warm, she wore an unfashionable white coat.

She was going on a trip, or perhaps returning from one. She pulled behind her a suitcase with small wheels and an extendable handlebar. It produced a clacking sound as it rolled along.

Her hair was black and worn long. On her face was a pair of frighteningly thick-framed glasses.

This was a woman who seemed to have neither knowledge nor interest in fashion, style, or trends.

She looked to be in her mid-20s, perhaps a bit younger.

Most of the students didn’t seem to pay her much mind. They thought it was just another O.L. passing through on a trip, a perfectly normal event.

Compounding the situation, she was just as oblivious of the students as they were of her. Her awareness was fixed exclusively on the book that she held poised before her eyes.

“............................”

Her gaze chased rapidly along the lines of characters arrayed upon the pages. From time to time she took a page between her thumb and pinky, and with a flicking motion, sent it flying.

On the cover of the volume could be seen a logo featuring the title “The Streetcorner where the Cats Live”, as well as an illustration of a smiling girl embracing a mass of kittens. It looked like a junior novel, the sort aimed at teens.

The woman’s steps led steadily onward, while she remained wholly engrossed in the book, but even when she went astray, there wasn’t anything that posed any danger to her. Even if it looked as if she were going to crash into a telephone pole, or if a bicycle came at her, she always avoided it. Without paying any attention, she seemed to posses an innate, immensely accurate evasive ability.

Presumably, she read while walking whenever she went out. This “habit” was definitely not the sort of thing that developed overnight.

The woman’s feet stopped before the school gate.

Thrusting the book to her chest, she released a small sigh. Both of her cheeks were stained with a light pink blush. Above that, both eyes were slightly blurred by tears.

After marking her place with a beribboned bookmark, she opened to the flap of the book’s cover.

Therein lay a headshot of the author and a short biography.

Out of the photo smiled a girl with hair that stuck out at the back. Though this was labeled a recent photo of the author, she looked too young for the part.

She was in fact that young. The author of this book, Nenene Sumiregawa, was a mere 17 years of age and thus was a high school student.

Though no one had asked, the woman read the contents of the profile aloud.

“Nenene Sumiregawa... Presently attending a particular high school in the city, every day she must balance the onerous demands of homework and her literary career....”

The students that were walking up the road behind her responded to her unprompted babbling with dubious expressions.

However, without paying any heed to what was going on around her, she returned the book to a coat pocket.

“.................................Aha~ ♪”

Directing her attention to the school building, her face lit up with an unsinkable smile.

She took a deep breath and bowed her head in deep reverence. It goes without saying that she wasn’t actually directing this toward anyone in particular.

“If I could have your attention please! From this day on I’ll be relying on your support. I’m your new substitute teacher, Yomiko Readman!”

Just as her speech reached its end, the chime of a bell would be heard from the roof of the school. Those students who hadn’t yet reached the entrance hall and the shoe lockers lined up therein sped up their pace.

“................. Uwatata—!“

Knowing that to be the five minute warning bell before the morning assembly, a flustered Yomiko began to run.

Her suitcase rattled along behind her.

“...Even so, in those times where a person’s spirit has been allowed to grow slack, unhappiness is sure to befall him...”

The weekly Monday assembly. For the student body, the principal’s lengthy speech was no surprise.

The first-years, as was to be expected, weren’t yet inured to this, and their annoyance over when this would end was plain to see on their faces. Meanwhile, the second- and third-years would occasionally glance at their watches and think something like, “It’s been five minutes now, so he’ll probably go for another five.”

Typically enough, the principal was an elderly man, and old people are fond of long speeches. Therefore, it was natural that when the principal gave speeches, they were quite thorough and syllogistic in style.

Today, as usual, the speech dragged on for a good ten minutes. As soon as they saw the principal reverently bow his balding head to close the speech, the student body let out a sigh of deep relief as one in harmony.

“Eh, well then. Next on the agenda, I have a new teacher, whom I would like to introduce, to all of you.”

His deliberate statement, a peculiarity of his upbringing, sent ripples of unexpected interest through the assembled students.

“Abe-senshi, starting this week, will be taking pregnancy leave, and until she returns, her position, as our history teacher, will be held by this teacher.”

From the line of teachers that faced the students, a figure in a white coat began to move. Soon, it stopped at the announcement podium at the center of the stage.

"This is Yomiko Readman. Proceed."

After the head teacher's introduction, a stir arose amongst the students.

"Yomiko?"

"He say Readman? What now--some foreigner?"

Whatever their concerns, the students' awareness and attention began to home in on the podium.

A blindingly white coat and glasses with thick, dark frames. A makeup-free face, with eyes that gave the impression that their owner had just woken up.

It was quite bewitching, to those with the necessary tastes, and thus the better part of the male student body let out a despondent sigh.

As for this woman--one Yomiko Readman--she utterly failed to pick up on the atmosphere as she stood there, smiling broadly.

"Gooood morning, everyone!"

She paused for a moment. Of course, not a single student or teacher there was willing to return a "Good morning" in this situation. Absent the impressive reaction she had been expecting, she let her shoulders slump slightly.

“Soooo... Starting today, I’ll be teaching history here; I’m Yomiko Readman. Yomiko, as in “yomu ko”, or “girl who reads”, you know, books. Readman, that’s spelled R, E, A, D, M, A, N. As in, a person who reads. Uhh. It’s a name that means reading, and nothing but, you know?”

That elicited a few laughs that more closely resembled groans.

“You probably figured it out from my name, but I’m not fully Japanese. My father was English, and my mother, Japanese. The two of them reaaaally loved books, and that’s why they gave me this name, I think. Of course, with a name like this, I just had to love books too, right?”

That got a few more laughs. Yomiko seemed to take heart from that response, so she kept talking.

“Since I was a child, I never played with toys or games. It was just books, books, and more books. It was almost like I couldn’t survive without books. Whenever I went out without bringing a book, it just felt wrong.”

Yomiko produced a single book from a coat pocket. It was an implausibly large, thick hardcover.

“Look, even now. This book here is History Repeats Itself , and it contrasts the writings of scholars of both modern and medieval history. It’s pretty interesting, really. Those who have an interest in history, please give it a try.”

The principal nodded in approval. Such an attitude, burning with passion for education, touched his heart.

“....If you think that’s interesting, there’s this, too.”

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