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.”
Yomiko reached into her coat pocket again and pulled out another book.
"This action novel, Illinois Heat, was recently released in translation, at long last. I'd read the original version first, but still. I thought, it's out here now, so I'd better read this version, too. The translator's pretty good, so the quality was raised even higher in this version."
Yomiko thrust her hand into her pocket once more and pulled out a new book.
"This translator is also a literary critic. His critical writings have been collected in this volume, King of Books. It doesn't quite live up its title, though. He’s too biased against certain genres. He really smacks down any and all movie novelizations. Don’t you think that’s just plain prejudice?”
No one seemed to have a response for that. Yomiko may have been betting on that outcome or might simply have been satisfied to have expressed her thoughts, for she simply proceeded to introduce the next book.
“Speaking of movies, there’s The ICBM of Love, which came out last summer. That thing was really stupid. Oh, that was originally a manga, actually. ... There is that, but still. That was entitled, The IRBM of Love. When it came down to it, they must have figured that an ICBM would have sounded like a bigger deal than an IRBM, you know. Movie people.”
The teachers’ expressions were beginning to shift. The students, too, had probably picked up on the fact that Yomiko, who had been pulling out book after book, was not normal, and were starting to whisper to their closest peers.
But Yomiko simply pulled a fifth book out of a pocket and began to describe it enthusiastically.
“Anyway, for another movie-related example, I’d like to go with this one, Don’t Chase Me into Infinity. A lot of people avoid it since they assume it’s a shojo manga, but they shouldn’t, ‘cause it’s a reaaalll tear-jerker. Ah, the original author usually goes by Makizawa Uri-san, but using a different pen name he wrote this book, Dotou’s Newlywed Life. That was a best-seller, so you’ve all heard of it, right? However, if you compare it with this one, The Married Chimp, you can have fun finding all the similarities between the two books. Ooh, yeah, and speaking of the chimp one, I got it signed at a meet-and-greet with different authors.... It was this copy, actually. It was more than just a signature; he even drew me stuff. You see, right here, look, it’s a monkeyyy!....”
With a succession of thuds, she began to pile books on top of the podium.
In parallel to the growing number of volumes, the feeling of irritation that always filled the air during any morning exercises reached new heights.
In the end, Yomiko’s speech took up a full twenty-seven minutes and covered 33 books. There was clearly more remaining at the point where she was cut off by a male teacher miming that she should step down from the stage. The students burst into grateful applause as she return to her seat.
“What’s up with that teacher? Walking around with all those books, no way that’s normal.”
“She’s pretty weird, gotta say.”
Fortunately, due to the strange substitute teacher the start of classes had been pushed back.
Here, in senior class A, Hashimoto-senshi had written, perhaps with a bit more speed than usual, a problem on the blackboard, which was now chock full of mathematical formulae.
However, the sole topic of the students’ stealthy discussions was the matter of the morning’s star, one Yomiko Readman.
Students who’d skipped the morning exercises were being fed exaggeration-filled explanations about their new teacher from their classmates.
“We got a sub? ‘Stead of Abe-chan?”
“She was at it for a good half hour at the assembly, saying that book’s good, this book’s good.”
“Stuff like that, no one was really into it, yeah?”
“....But ya know, she sorta had a cute face.”
“You dumbass, you got a thing for glasses? Serious?”
From the students’ idle talk their impression of the new teacher could be determined, and that revolved around but a single point.
Those students who hadn’t yet seen the real thing were exceedingly interested and kept pressing the eyewitnesses for more info.
“What’s her name? That teacher.”
“Why’d you want to know her name? Uhhh, something like...”
Hashimoto’s chalk stopped, but the current problem wasn’t entirely written out yet. As he turned his head to look back, the students quickly dropped their gaze toward their desk.
“Well, for this problem, let’s see then, Sumi...”
“Sumiregawa, Sensei—!”
The classroom door suddenly burst open with enough energy to cancel out the rest of Hashimoto’s statement.
Standing in the doorway was a disheveled-looking woman, with tears and snot flowing freely down her face and a copy of The Streetcorner where the Cat Lives clutched tightly in her hand.
The person in question was clearly one Yomiko Readman.
“Wh-what do you need, Sensei...”
On receiving such an unexpected visitor, Hashimoto was unable to hide his surprise, but even then, he managed to speak with the demeanor of a relatively proper gentleman.
However, Yomiko didn’t even spare a glance for the aforementioned Hashimoto. While everyone present stared at her, she made a beeline for the teacher’s platform.
“I, I was just moved. Moved beyond words!”
Excitement, passion, and intoxication intermingled in her expression as her voice continued to rise.
“Your previous work, The Love Song from beneath the Ceiling, was great too, but this time it was reaaaaally amazing! Ooooh, jeeeez!”
Yomiko grabbed Hashimoto’s suit as the teacher tried to refocus on his math lesson, and proceeded to loudly blow her nose on it.
“Urgh—, aaaah—!”
Hashimoto raised a shout louder than any heard from him ever before, as that suit was a momento, having been given to him by his daughter, who had purchased it with her very first paycheck.
After swiftly depositing her snot on that heart-warming item, Yomiko turned back toward the students.
“Please sign this! I shall make it a family treasure! I will not move from this spot until you sign it! Well then, please come along quietly, Sumiregawa-sensei!”
In her defense, Yomiko normally wouldn’t be this discourteous; it’s just that she was in a state of near-arousal. After reading any interesting book, she would be caught up by, shall we say, an overwhelming excitement.
At the back of the dumbstruck classroom, a female student raised her hand.
“Ummm—...”
“Yes?”
“Nenene, she’s in the Library Room...”
“Huh?”
“‘Cause she’s got a deadline coming up. I think she’s writing her draft.”
“’Cause she’s a famous author, ya know. ‘Course she’d be busy with work, right?”
Something in the tone of voice used by the student who’d cut into the conversation gave the impression that this was a long-standing issue, but Yomiko was no longer listening.
Her eyes shone from behind her glasses like a beast stalking its prey.
“Excuse me!”
With that, she flew out of the classroom.
From the suit of the still-present Hashimoto, snot dripped onto a desk.
“Muwahahahahaa~...”
Yomiko stood before the entrance to the Library room.
No one had told her how to get here. By herself, she had made her way unerringly to this room.
So long as a given school had a library, Yomiko would be able to pinpoint that room’s location. The scent given off by the stacks of books called out to her.
With a single swift motion, she laid her cheek against the door.
“Within this very room...”
Burning excitement was beginning to creep into her voice and expression.
“Sumiregawa-sensei, is here...”
She rubbed her face affectionately up and down the door. As if she were a young girl in love, a pink blush spread across her cheeks.
“So--.... Ahem.”
Drawing herself up formally, she cleared her throat in preparation.
“Aaah--... I am a Cat. I am as of yet nameless...” (1)
She had striven in that declamation practice from the depths of her literary self.
“Please, excuse meee...”
Yomiko quietly opened the door and stepped into the room.
From where she stood, she could see the checkout counter; set a bit off to the side, tables and desks for reading; and at the heart of the room, a large number of bookcases arranged in parallel lines....
Since class was in session, there was no one in sight. Rays of sunlight spilled through the window to fill the calm air, nothing more.
It was a perfectly ordinary high school library.
“.............Yeaah--.......”
Yomiko basked to her heart’s content in the scent of the library.
Blended from an innumerable variety of paper, it was a deep and pleasant fragrance. That sort of air held a different flavor than that found in a bookstore.
“Hmmm~....Hm?”
While Yomiko was occupied with her olfactory sense, a sound flew to her ears.
Spun forth like a song, the surprisingly pleasant sound reoccurred at regular intervals. Much like a duet for the piano, it resembled an intricately tangled melody.
That sound originated from somewhere within the stacks.
More specifically, it had emitted from the hidden spot at the innermost part of the library, way on the other side of the stacks.
Yomiko walked unsteadily forward, drawn to the spot like a traveler lost in the woods to the sound of a fairy’s flute.
Perhaps from a lack of visitors, much of the contents of the shelves along the way were crowned with dust.
To complete the scene, little sunlight penetrated this far in, giving the stacks the appearance of a labyrinth’s walls.
Notes
1: The line she's quoting here is the very first bit of Natsume Souseki's classic novel I am a Cat.
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