Utahime sighs as the last couple of students make their way out of the classroom. Against her desk, the woman leans onto the heels of her palms. You’re the only one left in the room.

“Another day done,” she concedes, her voice far more lax than it had been when she’d been teaching—it always was when she was speaking to you. Like she didn’t mind you seeing the real, authentic side of herself she reserves for those she knows personally.

She huffs, a little worn by the day. “You’d tell me if I was going through the curriculum too fast, right? I feel like I’m blowing these kids’ minds.”