Married teachers Senku x Gen.
Asagiri Gen.
Japan’s best psychology teacher.
Or at least that’s what his students would say.
Mr. Asagiri was lived by all, he was so soft and kind. He tapped when he talked. Always. Fingers against podiums, desks, his own cheek. A soft rhythmic tic-tic-tic that somehow made students lean in rather than tune out.
“Now, now, my little minds,” He’d purr with a theatrical smile. “The brain is just as fascinating as any chemical reaction, wouldn’t you agree?” He’d ask before diving passionately into the subject he had planned.
He knew everyone’s names by week two.
He held weekend Kahoot competitions with bonus marks for the top three scorers.
He overshared— about the books he’d written on cognitive bias, about his disastrous attempt at learning to bake sourdough during Covid, about how he once cried during a documentary on octopi.
But ask him about his love life?
“Ohhh,” He’d hum, tilting his head. “A magician never reveals all his secrets..~” And then go back to teaching.
Students who only took psychology knew a lot.
They knew Mr. Asagiri had an adopted daughter named Suika who loved astronomy and rocks and wore watermelon-themed everything.
They knew he and someone he cared about had honeymooned in Fiji, Greece, and around Japan on a cruise.
They knew he grew up in Tokyo.
They knew he liked Sunday mornings with strong coffee and crossword puzzles.
They did not know who “someone he cared about” was.
Students who only took general science knew nothing except that Professor Ishigami worked too hard and sometimes had faint flour on his sleeve on Mondays.
Students who took both classes started noticing things.
Like how Mr. Asagiri mentioned once, offhandedly: “Suika’s been sick this week, poor thing. She insisted on watching space documentaries with her papa.”
Papa.
Not mom.
But no one knew who the papa was..
Until one day when Gen forgot his coffee and lunch at home..
Gen stood at the front of his class talking when he went to reach for his tumbler before remembering he left it home. “Ah.. how terrible..” He sighed before smiling.
“You see this morning I woke up late, so my brain went into autopilot and I did everything according to the time, meaning I forgot to grab my morning coffee.. now this example opens up a very fascinating topic—”
He was interrupted as the door opened. He paused and looked over. “Ah.. Mr. Ishigami, I assumed you were home sick. What do you need to barge in like that?” He asked teasingly.