I’m My Own High School Rival: Nakamura’s Arc: Heritage

  After arriving at school, I learned that Jenie—who had finally accepted my apology—shared my homeroom. For better or worse, she was also my only real talking companion. I ended up late to first period because she needed help finding her Softness Training class; she'll struggle with the clear communication portion—that much is obvious.

  However, I’m moving to the second-period class with grace. Walking to Ms. Igarashi’s room brought back a sense of nostalgia; she was my inspiration for teaching history.

  Twisting the latch and entering Ms. Igarashi's classroom, the world beyond the door faded into nothingness, reducing the school's overall significance and kindling the flames of knowledge.

  I modeled my classroom after hers, and now I have the honor of experiencing her educational embrace once more.

  Ms. Igarashi was sitting at her desk, wearing her standard pantsuit in alignment with the school uniform. She was reviewing this week's lesson plan; her eyes darted back and forth between the pages. Her black hair was beautiful, wrapped in an elegant bun.

  She glanced at me, swiftly returning to her current task.

  “Ah, Nakamura,” acknowledging my existence, “first as always—Please find your seat—it hasn’t changed from last year’s seating chart.”

  Bowing, I sat down in anticipation.

  Slowly, students made their way into the classroom; familiar faces, yet foreign names.

  Finally, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. However, I didn’t draw up a textbook because I wasn't sure which era we would start with. It’s been years since I was a student.

  The class sat silently, waiting for her to start.

  She closed the door, and my fingers danced restlessly along the desk as I waited, but a knock was heard.

  I dreaded the poor students who arrived late to Ms. Igarashi’s class, but I knew who it was and didn’t care for her because we lived in different worlds. She could drop out and retain a future, within her clan, while we supplemented the labor force.

  She opened the door, and we all held our breaths.

  “You're late. Give me one reason why I should let you into my classroom, young man?”

  That wasn’t right. None of the young men would dare invoke her wrath, for the reprimand would devastate them.

  Whoever it was exchanged her sternness with whispers.

  She reached into the hall, snatching whoever it was, dragging them into the front of the classroom—

  Antwon?

  I nearly jumped out of my chair, but refrained from doing so because the mask I had worn for years wouldn’t let me.

  But how is this possible!? Those green eyes, that complexion, and that hair.

  “Now, pay attention, class. Here we have a young man, who happens to be foreign to Kokiri; he’s also late,” she said, holding him by the back of the collar.

  “There are two reasons why you would arrive late, and both culminate in the same conclusion. Do you know what that is, Mr…”

  “Carter,” he replied. His eyes flickered away in embarrassment.

  Was it truly the same boy who stood before the Veil? Was this… a dream?

  “That’s Ms. Igarashi to you. Now, can you tell us why you’re late and the outcome of those who follow your example?” She focused on his timid frame.

  He made eye contact without resolve. “Ms. Igarashi.”

  For a moment, the room was quiet as they held each other, then she nodded to the class. She was searching for an answer; a game I’ve witnessed many times.

  He, with innocence, pointed at himself with confusion, as if to ask, “Must I answer this question?”

  “You were late for one of two reasons: You’re physically slow, or you were engaging with some young lady. So… Mr. Carter?”

  Fright had consumed me. He can’t be here!

  “C-can it be both?”

  If there were something more substantial than silence, it would hold the room.

  “Explain,” she said in a low growl.

  “W-well, I walked my sister to class, so she wouldn’t be late,” he said softly.

  Ms. Igarashi loosened his collar. She was shocked, as we all were, because boys didn’t walk girls to class; they were walked.

  Wait… sister?

  I taught Sakura my first year as a teacher, so how could she possibly be in high school with me!

  “T-that’s different. Well, no matter,” boys who are late end up with questionable enterprises, Mr. Carter. So, unless your sister plans to take care of you forever, I’d suggest you worry about your punctuality. By the way, your Japanese is really good.”

  He blushed as if to say, “She will.”

  He half turned and bowed.

  But how are we in school together? The age difference alone complicates everything, but his sister? Does he mean Sakura’s here, too? She shouldn’t be born yet.

  My heart raced, running laps around the room, searching for an exit to this madness.

  “Take a seat next to Nakamura.”

  What!?

  “Nakamura, please raise your hand.”

  The weight of the air around me grew as I fought to raise my hand and make sense of this situation, all while holding on to my sanity.

  He walked four rows back, leaving one row, feeling the weight of his statement with every step, and being an oddity in more ways than one.

  But, should I speak to him about… the future? That sounds as crazy as Jenie did this morning.

  He sat down next to me, as instructed, but there was something different about him. Perhaps I’ve grown accustomed to the boy with tear-wet eyes always hiding from others, lamenting over the loss of his parents and poor treatment.

  Although I hold some responsibility for not defending him from Ryo Aizawa, I felt powerless, trapped between two clans bound by marriage.

  I watched him from the corner of my eye.

  The Antwon who sat next to me was… happier… hopeful, even.

  Perhaps this is a repressed thought; my mind was trying to cope with their inevitable deaths. No matter, as long as I play it safe and avoid interacting with him, nothing should change. We’re in class, after all.

  “Now that we’re all here, pay close attention because I hate to repeat myself. We will be covering the restoration period.”

  I wanted to focus on the lecture, but his presence didn’t fit.

  She turned to the whiteboard.

  “After the chaos of the Sengoku period, Kokiri’s true formation began with Trisshime Tokugawa in 1603. Unlike the warlords before her, she unified the nation not through swords—but through policy, strategy, and the will of the women left behind by war.

  Her rise marked the beginning of the Kokiri Era—a period of restructuring that replaced clan warfare with courts, and honor with quiet manipulation. Over the next hundred and twenty years, her governance established the five ruling clans that still influence Kokiri today:

  The Daughters of Ash, born from ruin, use pain as their sharpest weapon.

  The Crimson Veil, masters of charm and subversion, rule the night with a smile and a dagger.

  The Silent Orchard, watchers in the shadows, leave no footprints where they walk.

  The Moonbind Covenant, mystics sworn to truth—even if it must be hidden in illusion.

  And the Iron Fan Court, heirs of Trisshime herself—political giants who mastered peace through silence.

  Under Trisshime’s rule, Kokiri experienced nearly one hundred and twenty years of peace—”

  Someone knocked at the door.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Speak of peace, and chaos answers.”

  Ms. Igarashi slowly walked toward the door, preparing herself for the incursion to come.

  “Ah, Ms. Tetsusen, if your ancestors could see you now.”

  Giggles filled the classroom.

  “Back off, hag.”

  She grabbed her by the back of the collar, too, dragging her into the classroom.

  “Have you lost your mind? Stop acting like you don’t know who I am!”

  She resisted, flailing her arms and stomping her feet. But Ms. Igarashi didn’t let go; she never did.

  Christina Tetsusen—who would later adopt the name Tsukikage—was once nothing more than a spoiled brat. However, she had raised a decent daughter.

  “Pay attention, class, for we have a rarity amongst us.”

  Tetsusen didn’t resist; she was outmatched.

  “Here we have the future of our kingdom, for the Iron Fan Court holds the most political influence amongst the five clans; However, I believe she wouldn’t hold much, showing up late to the political table.

  The class laughed, but I didn’t because, that night, I didn’t see her face, but remembered her voice. She was there; her motherly warmth for her daughter was unprecedented.

  “You want to die, hag!?”

  “Was that a threat, kitten?”

  She pulled out her cell phone; the screen illuminated.

  “Must I call your mom? We go way back, and I’m sure she would love to hear about your transgressions.”

  There was venom in every word. Ms. Igrarashi's past was a mystery to none. She ran with Triss Tetsusen, the current leader of the Fan, in her youth. However, she herself wasn’t clan; Just a woman with a will of iron.

  “Damn! You don’t have to call her.”

  Was it panic or fear that twisted her face… either way, Triss was a force of nature. I’ve heard rumors of her disciplinary ways; long nights in the forest without food, water, or a map to guide you, with constant danger from members ordered to attack anything that moved.

  “Okay, Ms. Tetsusen, you know the drill.”

  She ran her fingers through her blond mane, delivering a vicious side eye to Ms. Igarashi, who basked in her torment.

  “I was talking to someone, okay?”

  Ms. Igarashi leaned in close, and the phone’s screen re-illuminated.

  “I was talking to a boy, damn. Stop pressing me, and let me go!”

  She released her collar, and Tetsunsen stomped to the back of the class, sitting right behind me. I braced myself.

  Once she was settled, I could feel her expensive shoes pressing against the back of my chair.

  Same old Tetsusen.

  Glancing at Carter, I could see he was in awe of what had just happened between the teacher and the student. His reverence for Ms. Igarashi almost made me forget his implied existence; almost.

  “Now that 'Everyone' is here. I want you to work in triads and answer the think questions in chapter thirteen.”

  Why Ms. Igarashi? I despised working in groups—someone was always slacking off.

  “Excuse me… Naka-mura, if you don't have someone in mind, can we work together?”

  I taught you before this paradoxical experience. We shouldn't be working together. Logically, I should avoid you.

  “We can work together.”

  I meant to say no!

  He smiled something pure—sacred even, while I questioned his existence.

  “Okay, um. There are nine questions.”

  He pressed a pensive finger to his lips, surveying the room; perhaps searching for a third. But groups were solidified since most of the students knew each other, and who they wanted to work with.

  “Hey,” he said, removing the pair of feet pressed against my chair, waking the sleeping tyrant.

  “Carter, you shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered too late.

  Feeling her strength-sapping presence sent shivers down my spine,

  “What's your deal, Nakamura? Why did you move my feet?”

  My body ached with every word. She was going to thrash me for something I didn't do.

  “Tetsusen, I—”

  “I moved your feet because I wanted your attention,” Antwon interjected.

  Anger dissipated, making way for intrigue, which in turn gave way to the weight of curiosity.

  She studied him for a moment, not sure of his purpose.

  “What… do you want?”

  A question laced with subversive curiosity; she’s never been in a situation where a boy forced her attention.

  “We need a person for our group; I don’t think anyone’s asked you… So work with us.”

  Disgust bathed in disbelief was the mask she wore as she contemplated—something I’ve never seen before.

  “Okay, I’ll work with you, but don’t expect me to do anything.”

  Antwon scoffed, “Never mind then. You can go back to sleep.”

  He smiled and began gingerly flipping through the pages of the textbook, unaware of what he had done.

  Tetsusen was shocked that a boy, of all things, requested her attention and rejected her in the same breath.

  She rose from her chair, circumvented her desk, dragging her chair with her, and placed it next to Antwon.

  I looked for Ms. Igarashi, who was fixed on my position, providing much-needed comfort. However, she didn’t have enough reason to intervene.

  “Let me get this right… Who are you?” She said with a craned neck. But he didn’t respond.

  He was too engrossed by the textbook to answer. It’s as if he were lost in a different world that consisted of Kokiri’s past. I’ve never seen anyone so absorbed—more so than me.

  She leaned in closer to Antwon’s face, almost sharing breaths.

  My heart raced; I didn’t know what she was planning to do, because this had never happened before. I turned, and Ms. Igarashi was still holding us, but did nothing. My hand started to sweat as thoughts of Antwon being violated by Christina appeared in my mind.

  I can’t let Christina do anything to my student.

  Antwon closed his eyes and started sniffing the air, like… A puppy.

  His actions were strange, even for my understanding of foreign boys.

  He leaned in, brushing cheeks with Tetsusen, and took a whiff of Tetsusen’s neck, causing her to fall back in her chair.

  “W-what?” she uttered, losing her composure.

  I was also at a loss for words. Turning to Ms. Igarashi, I prayed that someone with a logical mind would witness this phenomenon. She did, but she was grinning.

  Christina was known for dishonoring young men by pushing them down, and Antwon was tempting the Fan’s flame.

  Antwon blinked as if he had woken from a trance.

  “Do I… Know that smell, but why? Oh—oh. I thought you didn’t want to work with us,” he said, oblivious to what he’d done.

  “Y-you! Who the heck do you think you are!” She furiously said, pointing a finger.

  “Me?” he replied, pointing his own finger at himself. “I’m Carter.”

  Ms. Igarashi burst into laughter—at what, I don’t know.

  Christina blushed for the first time in my life. But her shame was not without recourse; she scowled, turning her shame to anger while directing her fury toward the class.

  Boys and girls turned away, save for Antwon.

  “What did you do? Why’d you smell me?”

  Christine’s shade of red was unprecedented.

  Antwon blinked as if waking from a dream, unsure of where he was.

  “I… didn’t; did I?”

  Antwon looked at me to confirm what she said, and I didn’t know what to do—he clearly smelled her, but why couldn’t he remember?

  “You did, Carter.”

  He genuinely seemed confused as his eyes darted between us, finding unwavering faces.

  “Oh… we should get back to work, Nakamura.”

  Tetsusen was seething. Antwon had dismissed her for a second time, and she wouldn’t stand for it.

  “Do you think you're funny, Carter!?”

  “No, I just think you're too close to me.”

  Tetsusen took a deep breath, causing my chest to tighten in anticipation of her next move.

  “Damn… Most boys swoon when I’m close, but you just keep on pissing me off.”

  Nakamura, I’ll answer the first six questions, and you can answer the rest, okay?”

  “Are—are you ignoring me, you little gaijin ass-whole!?”

  Antwon leaned over his desk with his textbook to show me something; I started to lean in to observe when Tetsusen slapped the book out of Antwon’s hand, causing me to snap back into my seat. However, Antwon lingered, examining his fallen textbook.

  “Ignore me now,” Christina sneered.

  He glanced at the fallen book, not angry… just tired of this routine.

  He slowly, as if not to provoke her, rose back to the upright position. Then he slumped over his desk, supporting the weight of his head with one hand, while holding Tetsusen’s attention.

  “I… respect Kokiri’s rich history—much of it is your family's lineage—your heritage. So, why don’t you? You act like you’re above me.”

  She scowled at him, but I thought she always respected her maternal line, which was why she raised her daughter in a traditional manner.

  “You little shit—”

  “Tetsusen,” I interjected, hoping I could redirect her attention.

  “I’ll help you with the answers—I don’t mind.”

  She didn’t address me because she was focused on Antwon, who presented a dull, uninterested expression, as if she was no threat or bother to him.

  Was he always like this?

  Tetsusen ran her hand through her hair before getting up and dragging the chair back to her desk. She sat down at her desk, and I braced myself for the impact of her shoes, but it never came.

  I bent down to retrieve Antwon’s textbook, but it seemed he had the same idea—our hands nearly touching.

  Our eyes met, and my face warmed at how appealing he truly was.

  But why this—why now!?

  “I-I was going to… I’m sorry.”

  I retreated—not understanding why I was flustered. I’ve seen him, I’ve taught him for nearly a year, so why was I getting worked up?

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “I did nothing,” I retorted without pause. I let him down again by allowing Christina Tetsusen to challenge him for trying to be kind… and then rude.

  “Thanks for trying to help me,” he whispered.

  Christina scoffed, “Humph,” showing her disapproval.

  It seemed Tetsusen wasn’t happy with his statement.

  I wish my hair were down to hide my flushed face.

  “Yeah… thank you for moving her feet,” I whispered, knowing I might be heard, but thanking him anyway.

  Ms. Igarashi was aiding other students, but she wore a faint smile that felt reserved for Antwon. I guess questionable enterprises were off the table.

  Okay, class. Since we were overly invested in today’s entertainment, your nine Think Questions will be tonight’s homework.

  Low groans filled the classroom.

  “Enough of that.”

  Silence replaced contempt.

  Well, you may all go when the bell rings, except for you, Mr. Carter. I would like a word.”