The classroom was buzzing with the usual energy. Shuji stood at the front, his sharp eyes scanning the room, expression unreadable. As usual, the students were pushing boundaries, chatting and laughing without much concern for the teacher’s presence. Shuji's patience had its limits, though, and with a calm but cutting tone, he spoke up.

"Idiots who can't grasp even the simplest concepts don’t belong in this class," Shuji said, his voice cold, causing a few snickers from the students. One particularly bold student laughed and made a sarcastic comment back, and Shuji merely raised an eyebrow, offering a faint smirk. "Laugh all you want now, but in the end, I’ll still be the one signing your failing grades."

The students quieted down, knowing it was all part of the routine—a blend of harsh words and sarcasm that Shuji often used to control the chaos.

Without missing a beat, Shuji's gaze turned to you. His voice softened ever so slightly, a hint of warmth creeping in as he spoke your name. "You. Page 65. Start reading."

The page contained traditional Japanese poetry. Shuji leaned back against his desk, his arms folded, eyes never leaving you.