Kimetsu Academy Junior High and High School was an utterly average school beloved by the residents of Kimetsu. It wasn’t particularly academic, nor was it a school for delinquents.
The school was decidedly not average in just one way. For some reason, the place was full of problem students.
“You want to quit the disciplinary committee?”
“Yeah.” Zenitsu nodded glumly after sharing his heartfelt feelings with Tanjiro behind the school building at lunch.
Once again, he had carried out the morning uniform check at this problem academy, and now he was the human equivalent of a wrung-out rag.
Whether it was Inosuke Hashibira, the boy who’d caused a stir in the media for being raised by wild boars rather than wolves (shirt buttons undone, bare feet, no bag other than his lunch); or the volleyball team captain Susamaru (always carrying a metal kemari ball); or the scariest bleached blonde Ume (hates ugliness, uniform modification; also, sexy); or her older brother (extremely hot for his sister and way, way strong at fighting), they had all absurdly roughed up Zenitsu, and now both his mind and body were a ragged mess.
“I just can’t anymore. I never even wanted to do this to begin with. They just went and decided on the committee members on a day I happened to be out from school.” Zenitsu sniffled. “I mean, me being on the disciplinary committee at this school, there’s just no way. I mean, ever. It just won’t work.”
“I think you’re a good fit for the committee, though,” Tanjiro remarked, lowering his eyebrows in concern. “You’re always so nice and all. I mean, come on, you even overlooked these earrings that were a keepsake of my father.”
Tanjiro was just that kindhearted of a friend, but Zenitsu glared in return.
“Then you do it! You be on the disciplinary committee instead of me!”
“Hmm. I have to help out at the bakery in the mornings, though.”
Tanjiro’s family owned a popular bakery and baked about a thousand buns and loaves every morning. Not many knew that Tanjiro himself preferred rice to bread and ate a traditional Japanese breakfast every day.
Incidentally, his younger sister Nezuko Kamado was not only a great beauty, but also always had a baguette in her mouth. Because of that, people would whisper, “If you bump into someone at the corner where Kamado’s is, you’ll receive a blessing—the shojo manga-esque experience of running into a beautiful girl with bread in her mouth!”
No one had achieved that dream thus far, however. The onus lay with a certain person who burned with such (one-sided) passion for Nezuko that he watched over her from behind an electrical pole, whether she was going to or coming home from school. Normally a pathetic weakling, Zenitsu demonstrated demon-like strength when it came to Nezuko Kamado.
“At least help me quit the disciplinary committee!” Zenitsu begged.
“Can’t you just tell Mr. Tomioka you’re quitting?” Tanjiro asked naively.
Zenitsu made a face like there was nothing more distasteful to him in this world.
“There’s no way he’ll actually listen to me! Every time I try to tell him I’m quitting, he yells about how I’m supposed to dye my hair black and punches me! I mean, is he even for real?”
Giyu Tomioka, gym teacher and faculty advisor to the disciplinary committee, was always exceedingly sullen and grumpy—and because he was faster with his fists than his words, the majority of students were afraid of him, outside of Tanjiro and an exclusive few.
Countless PTA meetings had been held with the “Tomioka problem” taking up the entire agenda, to the point where the group had transformed from the Parent-Teacher Association into something more like the Parent-Tomioka Association.
The man himself was probably clueless and had only the vaguest sense that he was in danger of dismissal. There was a rumor that he’d rescued and adopted a kitten he found on a rainy day, so maybe he was a surprisingly good guy. But the veracity of this was far from certain, and it didn’t lead to any real improvement in his reputation.
“But, I mean, you have to go through Mr. Tomioka—”
“I told you! I’ve tried so many times!” Zenitsu shouted in annoyance. “I keep telling him, but he won’t listen to me! That guy! Hits me every time I talk to him! Even if I just go near him to talk, he hits me! Come on! What the heck?! This guy! How is he even a teacher! Tomioehhh—”
“Zenitsu?!” Tanjiro cried.
Just saying Tomioka’s name made Zenitsu almost vomit. He had developed a Tomioka allergy at long last. He was at a loss to discover that the darkness in his heart was indeed so black.
Perhaps realizing the true seriousness of the issue, Tanjiro said, “Okay. How about this, Zenitsu? We’ll go talk to Mr. Tomioka when he’s in a good mood. I’ll come with you.”
“When he’s in a good mood?” Zenitsu frowned. “Is he ever?”
Maybe on paydays? Or Casual Friday? Or a day when he had a date? (Wait. Did he even have someone to go out with?) Whatever it was, Zenitsu couldn’t begin to imagine Tomioka in a good mood. He didn’t even want to, actually. He shook his head and tried to shake these thoughts away.
“Salmon and daikon,” Tanjiro announced crisply.
“Huh?” Zenitsu said.
“Mr. Tomioka loves salmon stewed with daikon.”
“What? Huh? How do you know that? You … You’re kind of scary.”
“The truth is, Giyu—I mean, Mr. Tomioka’s been a regular at our bakery since before I started at this school.” Tanjiro had just happened to overhear a conversation between him and another regular. According to the information he had obtained there …