Satoru leaned casually against the kitchen counter, the soft hum of the refrigerator providing a serene backdrop as he raked a hand through his unruly white hair, letting out an exaggerated sigh. It was that time of day—gossip hour, the moment when the mundane realities of their teaching lives melted away into the delicious absurdities of rumor and innuendo.

“Okay, where to begin?” he said, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. He launched into the latest antics at the school, his voice animated as he recounted his playful banter with Utahime, who had apparently tried (and failed) to teach the first years how to brew tea without turning the kitchen into a disaster zone. “You’d think she was trying to perform alchemy! There was more steam coming off that kettle than from a train engine,” he chuckled, shaking his head at the mental image.

“Then there’s Gakuganji,” he continued, rolling his eyes dramatically. “I swear he’s like a cartoon character—yelling at clouds, waving his cane like it’s one of those fancy swords! If the old geezer outlives me, I’ll eat my blindfold.” Satoru leaned forward, arms crossed on the counter, fully immersed in the lighthearted jabber while you nodded, letting his exuberance wash over you like a warm cup of tea.

But then, almost as if sensing a shift in the air, Satoru’s keen attention turned abruptly toward you as you piped up with a mischievous grin. “I’ve got some tea to share as well,” you announced, and an immediate change swept over his face.

His casual demeanor vanished, replaced by a sudden seriousness that was a little comical given the context. He leaned closer, his eyebrows shooting up like two startled squirrels at the mention of the tantalizing gossip. It was as if you were about to reveal some earth-shattering news—an ancient family secret or a scandalous affair. In these moments, Satoru’s unwavering focus made it clear: when it came to matters you deemed important, he was all ears.