Mikamo
A year had passed since Washu came to the Department of Philosophy. She had advanced to Class 3, receiving credit for her work done thus far. In Class 3, she received qualifications as an assistant professor and could teach on behalf of a professor for students up to Class 8. Of course, that was also a part of the curriculum in Class 3.
Naja approached Washu as she exited the classroom. “This is amazing, Washu-chan. You’re already in Class 3.”
“Naja, you’re advancing to Class 4 while working in the Student Union.”
“It’s all thanks to you. You must have a gift for teaching. I hear the elementary students you’re in charge of have vastly improved their grades.”
A nearby elementary school had invited Washu to visit as a special lecturer. The kids she met when they renovated the hot springs pool at the mansion, her former residence, attended that school. “I often end up learning from them instead.”
“Because they come up with ideas you don’t?”
“That’s true, but I feel like they teach me to look at things with fresh eyes. People in the Department often have entrenched viewpoints.”
“Washu-chan, you’re in the Department, too.”
“Exactly. I’m not sure how to put this, but with each passing day, I feel I get more infected,” Washu said, fixing her eyes on Naja.
“I know, right?” said Naja, as though she were not part of the problem. She did not get Washu’s sarcasm. “But that’s not all, is it?”
Washu was unsettled at Naja’s probing query. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just my intuition. What do you think of my perspective? Do I have fresh eyes?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
“You can always talk to me about it.”
“You, in Class 4?”
“Whatever happened to the innocent little Washu I used to know?”
“You strapped her to a rocket and sent her up into space.” Washu stopped beating around the bush.
“Ha ha. You had it in you all along.”
“I didn’t want this kind of talent.” They looked at each other and laughed.
“You can always feel free to talk. I am older than you.”
“Thanks, Naja.”
Leaving Naja, Washu exited the building and squinted at the sunshine. She thought of Niwase Mikamo…
Washu had several favorite spots around campus. Small spaces just for her, where she would erect a simple force field so that nobody would disturb her. Then, one day, there was an intruder in her little world.
A certain weeping willow-like tree had thin branches that cascaded to the ground like a screen, forming a giant umbrella ten meters in diameter. Washu was letting her imagination run wild there when, suddenly, a young man pushed aside the branches and entered.
“Huh…?”
“Oh! S-sorry!!” The man was more surprised than Washu, and, with an apology, hurried away.
“Hold on, not that way!” Washu knew there was a cliff in that direction, so she hastily called out to stop him. But then…
“Waaaargh!!”
What she heard was not the man’s reply, but his scream as he almost fell off the cliff. With Washu’s help, he struggled back up, panting hard. “I-I thought I was going to die…”
“You’re so clumsy…Niwase Mikamo-kun.”
“H-how did you know my name?” the man stared at Washu. Her intense eyes, her flaming red hair, her bewitching curves: “beautiful” was the only word to describe her. She was a woman whom one would never forget, but Mikamo did not remember ever meeting her before.
“The sun is too bright there… Come this way,” smiled Washu. She entered the umbrella of branches, beckoning to Mikamo.
“Um…” Mikamo remained outside the umbrella, transfixed, and not knowing what to do.
“What…?”
“I-I apologize for my earlier transgression. I was walking, lost in thought… I entered a woman’s room without knocking…”
Washu listened and then burst out laughing. “This isn’t my room. Come on in.”
“But, well…”
“You don’t want to be here with me?”
“That’s not true at all!!”
Washu chuckled as she teased him. He was so serious, and she liked his innocence and courtesy. “I’m amazed you actually got in. I had a simple force field set up… Did it break?”
“Um… I don’t think it’s broken. When I get lost in thought, I often find myself in places I shouldn’t be able to enter. Professor Ikuma told me that there’s a deviation in the probability constant…” Mikamo sheepishly hung his head. He’d evidently experienced this many times.
“Sounds like a subject Professor Ikuma would like to research. Just be careful that he doesn’t vivisect you, Mikamo-kun.”
“Pardon me, but how do you know my name? I thought this was our first meeting.”
“In the first class I taught, there was a student in a sunny seat who slept comfortably from the beginning to the end of the lecture. His name was Niwase Mikamo.” Washu taunted him with a devilish smile.
Mikamo realized what she was getting at. “Um…are you Washu-sensei?” Washu nodded, and Mikamo jolted to attention, bowing repeatedly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! That day, I was… well…”
“That seat is very comfortable in this particular season. The sun hits it just right. I like that seat, too.” Washu smiled, and Mikamo smiled back, a little embarrassed. The bells signifying the end of lunch hour rang. Washu picked up her things and looked at Mikamo. “But if you fall asleep in my class again…I’ll vivisect you.”
Mikamo froze. Washu smiled, winked, and left.
From that day onwards, Mikamo stayed awake through Washu’s classes. That was how they met. Even now, whenever she looked at Mikamo, Washu thought back to how flustered he was that day and almost burst out laughing.
Several hundred kilometers away from the Department of Philosophy’s main buildings were facilities built several thousand years ago. That area was another of Washu’s favorites. Since the university’s campus spanned the whole planet, one department having jurisdiction over an entire continent was not rare. The Department of Philosophy was as large as Earth’s continent of Africa. If anyone, whether student or professor, was making use of a structure, no matter how old, it would never be demolished, and was always repaired.
This abandoned schoolhouse was another place Professor Ikuma gave to Washu. Her dogged pursuit of the observatory indicated to him that she would like something like that. The building was built several thousand years ago as a mortared frame house, but the timber was specially processed to withstand millennia of weathering. This was Washu’s secret hideout.
The reason why she liked this place so much was the library full of old books. When she had the time, she would get lost in the stacks, reading for hours. Today, too…
“Who’s there?!” Washu was deciphering some old, obsolete texts when she heard the creaking of the floor and braced herself. There should be nobody else in the library. “Is anyone there?”
“Washu-sensei?” Mikamo peered out from behind the bookshelf.
“Y-you! What are you doing here?”
“I came to read. Washu-sensei, what are you doing here?”
“I came to read, too… Heh!” Washu burst out laughing at the silly conversation. “It should be obvious that we came to read at a library. That’s not what I was asking. Oh, well… I won’t ask how you got in here. But this is my private place.”
“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now.”
“We come across each other in the oddest places. All right, I’ll give you special permission to visit this spot,” Washu said, stopping Mikamo. “I don’t know very many people who read physical books.” At that point, paperbound books were the equivalent of frescos, lithographs, or parchment scrolls on Earth. They were viewed more as archeology than sources of information.