Shortly after that, we reach the classroom. I take a deep breath and follow Mr. Bordon into that nostalgic place. The moment we enter, the clamor inside completely dies down. I can sense everyone focusing their attention on us.
“My name is Leonidas Bordon. I will be in charge of this class till the day you graduate. Pleased to meet you. Also, for a week starting from today, an intern will be assisting me. Please introduce yourself, Miss Natolie.”
I step onto the podium.
“My name is Natolie Proserpina. Pleased to meet you.”
“Whoa! Hey, Miss Natolie, why is your hair blue?” exclaims the still very young Maris (her innocent “Whoa!” is simply precious).
“It really is!”
“Is there a spell that can change the color of your hair? I’d love to know!”
Their cheeks red, the female students begin to chatter, expressing their drive for self-improvement. This side of them was cute from the very start. If they’d directed even a little bit of these carefree smiles and their readiness for compromise at me, we might’ve started to get along sooner. Though, on the other hand, things worked out the way they did because of how it all started, so maybe I don’t mind how everything went, in the end.
I can’t help but notice that the number of female students staring at me is about the same as at a certain other point in the room.
“Now, I’m going to take attendance...”
“Would you stop bothering me? If you so strongly insist on playing with me, quickly say, ‘Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie.’”
“And what makes you think I want to play with you?! Hmph, I’ll say your tongue twister, but you’ll prostrate yourself before me if I manage it!”
“Do your best.”
“Imagine an imaginary manager managing maginary managery manag... Aaaaahhh!”
A blond boy and a girl with dark-brown hair at the very back of the classroom interrupt Mr. Bordon with some kind of loud dispute. The boy is wearing clothes that look rather expensive, while the girl has a simple blue dress on.
“What’s the matter with them...?” utters Mr. Bordon as I take in the awfully familiar scene.
I feel a stinging sensation at his words. What you’re looking at, Mr. Bordon, is... Well...
“This is part of your learning experience, Miss Natolie.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Go find out what’s going on.” Mr. Bordon’s smile says he won’t take no for an answer.
As I stand there, unable to say anything, he pushes me on the back towards the stairs.
Why me?! You’re in charge of this class! Wait, was it Mr. Bordon who stopped us back then? I try to recall it, but it’s all fuzzy. It kinda feels like it was him, but also like it was someone else. I’m normally pretty confident in my memory, though...
I ascend the stairs, my steps clattering. On my way up I reply to a girl who wanted to know about hair-dyeing magic.
“Umm... You two, what’s wrong? Are you having a fight?”
You know full well what this is about, Nanalie, I quip on the inside.
Once I call out to them, the blond boy turns to me. His red eyes are like baubles of polished glass. His cheeks are faintly round, his short hair looks a little disheveled, and his brows are knitted in displeasure.
“It’s not me, it’s this stupidface making a fuss.”
“Who’re you calling stupidface?! Say that again, you slick head!”
“Huh? ‘Slick head’?”
“It’s totally slick. A slick and glistening head of blond hair. You’re definitely going bald in the future.”
“Look at you with your broad forehead. I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s going to go bald, starting from there. You poor little thing. I can already see you in the future.”
The future me is standing right here, though...
An awkward smile surfaces on my face. Looking at the battle unfolding before me, I’m part astonished and part frustrated by the absurdity of it all. I’m utterly disappointed in myself. To think these fights were so trifling and I was no better than my opponent...
Watching the two quarrel with their foreheads pressed nearly flush, at just the right distance for the one party’s spit to fly directly into the other’s face, I finally have a realization. At the end of the day, this was just a pissing contest. Anyone around could see it was completely pointless. That’s why Mr. Bordon would always tell me to “keep it in moderation” when I thought I was having a serious argument. I didn’t want to know this.
“Imagine a manager magine menager mag...”
Still, to these two, it’s a very serious conversation. I should know: I was part of it.
My eyes meet those of my younger self. In an instant, her frown is replaced with a smile.
“Wow, Miss Natolie, your hair is so pretty!”
“R-Really?”
That carefree smile of hers is like a once-wilted flower bud blooming once more.
I sure didn’t expect to get a compliment from myself. I hold my cheeks and smile too. She probably really meant what she said (not to brag, but she’s me). Why did I hate my blue hair so much at first if I don’t have trouble recognizing its beauty when someone else has it? Sure, by now I know it’s gorgeous, but it looks like in my younger days I had no end of ways to stay obstinate.
“I’m going to take attendance,” Mr. Bordon calls out, “so put your argument on hold until break time. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir! Sorry,” replies my younger self.
“Yes, sir,” adds Rockmann.
Despite everything, they do as their teacher says. We were relatively obedient children, independent and cooperative at the same time.
Now, then. With the fight broken up, I go back down the stairs. I make sure to reply with a wave to a girl who reminds me about her interest in my hair color.
“How did it go? Should I be concerned about them?” asks Mr. Bordon once I reach the teacher’s podium.
“Looks like there’s no problem, sir.”
Indeed, there’s no problem. I’m here to stop whatever Treyse is up to, and the fact it’s still me, Nanalie Hel, in the seat next to Rockmann, as well as the fact Treyse didn’t end up in this class, is already a relief. All that’s left is to find her—I’d better focus on that soon.
Recollecting himself, Mr. Bordon starts to take attendance, going from the front row to the back as he calls out the students’ names. Once he’s done, he places a box on his desk—one he had as we walked through the hallways—and starts handing out textbooks from inside.
The door creaks open.
“Excuse me, Mr. Bordon, may I have you for a minute?” says Mr. Bevrio, the teacher of an adjacent class, peeking through the door and beckoning our teacher. He looks troubled.
As I look his way, Mr. Bevrio notices it and winks at me. He really is a flirt.
Mr. Bordon steps outside the classroom. When he comes back a minute or two later, he has a female student with him.
“Okay, Miss Drenman, you’ll be in this class for a while.”
The girl has long, blonde, almost-white chest-length hair. Her green dress is the kind nobles wear casually—far from a flashy choice. Her fairly short, pretty bangs don’t go over her eyebrows. The blue irises of her gentle-looking eyes nervously waver as they face my way.
In front of me stands the young Treyse Drenman.
✦ ✦ ✦
My heartbeat picks up. Why is she in her younger form? How did she get transferred to this class?
“Due to some extenuating circumstances, she’ll be taking lessons in this class for a while. Welcome, Treyse Drenman,” says Mr. Bordon.
“Cough, cough... Thank you, sir,” says Treyse with teary eyes, lowering her head.
“Are you okay?” I ask, still shaken by her appearance.
“I’ve always had this, so I’m used to it,” she replies.
According to Mr. Bordon, her teary eyes are the result of her coughing too much.
“Now... Where did he say to seat you...? Oh, right, was it by the farthest window?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The air should be good there. Everyone,” says Mr. Bordon, addressing the class, “Drenman has a somewhat weak constitution. The air isn’t very good in her own class, which triggers her coughing. She’ll spend a week here and we’ll see how it goes. Her class could use better ventilation, really.”
Treyse Drenman... I don’t know much about her, but if she really does have a weak constitution, then that’s pretty bad. She’s a smart girl, so it must’ve been harsh for her to have to show up to a school where her first priority was not asphyxiating, as opposed to doing her work. I’ve heard that people born with disorders that can’t be cured through magic or medicine are encouraged to spend time in a different environment for their treatment—one with clean air and good ventilation. Looks like that applies to Treyse here too.
The adjacent classroom has windows opening straight onto a wall of the school, which probably leads to poor ventilation. It’ll be great if she gets better in this one. But wait... Did this happen when I entered school...?
“Hm, the two closest seats to that window are taken by Hel and Rockmann,” says Mr. Bordon. “Would you two mind moving over to the side?”
“No problem, sir!” vigorously replies my young self, raising her hand in an instant.
“It’s okay, sir, there’s no need to make them move away. Is it okay if I sit between them?”
“Are you sure?”
Wait... Between?
“Yes, sir.”
As Treyse walks by, she whispers, “Stay out of my way, Hel,” startling me. I look at her back in disbelief as she goes up the stairs. On the spur of the moment I also hold my ears, wondering whether I misheard what she said. This cannot be...
Treyse Drenman. Though she has the appearance of a twelve-year-old, this is her future self.