Emi found the book which had eluded her earlier and sat back slightly, eyeing the now nearly full room with a discerning eye. Looking around her she wondered at the gap between anime and real life. While aware that to avoid drawing each background character with discernible features they took liberty with hair colors instead, she still found it so badly divorced from reality as to be nearly laughable.

In anime and manga, the students of the class looked like a bag of skittles with hair colors of red and yellow and green and blue for main characters and some side characters while background characters were portrayed as brown or black haired. Everyone around her had black and dark brown hair and she felt she’d somehow been cheated out of something important. She was adrift in a sea of sameness and the notion she was merely a background character in someone’s anime rankled her.

As a matter of fact, the only person she’d ever met with actual naturally different hair had been Aria and Emi decided not to go down that greasy rabbit hole of suck because it would only end up pissing her off. While the school in Tottori had their fair share of different hair colors depending on how generous the allowance was to allow for dye jobs, the girls here would probably be flogged should they even attempt something so audacious.

For herself, Emi had always rather liked the color of her hair. Though in moments of madness she’d considered fuchsia, puce, titian, and smalt as legitimate coloring, she figured doing so would most likely end in her death at her mother’s hands and she didn’t want to die or saddle her mother with that sort of guilt. Though after the issue with Kasumi she was rather regretting that last reason.

While mostly black she found she did have dark brown and even some light brown highlights naturally. Depending entirely upon the angle of the light, wavelength of said light, lumen, brilliance and various other sciency terms she’d never bothered retaining after the test, her hair was positively vibrant she mused. Emi also briefly considered the notion that she could be viewed as being rather stupid, but quickly discarded such thinking as self-defeating. Testing was not an apt yardstick to measure someone’s mental acuity, and thankfully so.

Emi rather enjoyed the idea of the light playing through her muted rainbow hair but while the sun cascaded through the windows of the class and played along the obviously expensive parquet floor of the classroom, it seemed disinclined to bother with her hair now. It was similar she imagined, to how she wanted the wind to rustle her hair dramatically when she said something profound, but it always seemed otherwise engaged or simply sent her hair flying everywhere instead.

“Let’s all sit and be quiet, ladies,” the teacher said unnecessarily as she bustled through the door into the classroom. Emi would bet the 1400 yen in her backpack the girls in this class hadn’t been rambunctious since the placenta was cut.

“We have a new student joining us today,” The teacher put her books and materials on her desk in the most organized way Emi had ever seen. Merely the act of placing the things on the desk in casual exactness was, in and of itself, diligent on a level Emi was unqualified to even evaluate given her naturally slovenly approach to things.

It was strange seeing a teacher so meticulous, Emi thought. Looking up the word “organized” in the dictionary, Emi was certain this woman’s picture would be there, her hair pulled back in a severe bun, incapable of smiling since there were things to be done and the placement of her bun kept her face masklike. Most of the teachers in Tottori had long since lost the will to live and were simply going through the motions at this point, but even if they had retained some of the joie de vivre and organization skills they’d possessed when joining the profession before their students and the system itself had sucked it all out of them, none of them would have matched this woman’s fastidiousness.

She was also, Emi mused, quite attractive. Not as beautiful as the frazzled Korean teacher she’d met with Kasumi in Hiroshima, Emi mused, thinking back on the woman fondly. In fact, Emi had rarely seen an adult with her level of beauty. She wondered briefly what had become of her. Had she found her students? Had she made it back to Korea at all? All questions Emi doubted she would ever find the answers to.  

This teacher, Ms. Ito, was not quite as beautiful, but was very attractive in different ways. Her face was placid and serene with no sign of worry lines or aging. Though, once again, the tightness of the bun on her head could very well be a factor. Her hair would probably look very nice, Emi decided, if it wasn’t wrapped so tightly it seemed in danger of tearing her scalp off. Her breasts were quite large beneath her expertly pressed grey suit. Her legs were long and clad in sheer black stockings that with any other clothing would be positively scandalous and her dark brown eyes gleamed at the notion of molding and shaping the young minds sitting like dolls in the seats around the classroom. Yes, Emi decided, this teacher was quite fetching.

“Miss Seto?” The teacher stared at her inquisitively.

“Yeees?” Emi answered blankly, not quite realizing Ms. Ito had been speaking to her.

“Will you please introduce yourself to the class?” She reiterated. Had such a thing occurred in Tottori Emi was certain there would be snickers of derision. Here the students merely stared at her like drones.

“Why of course!” Emi bounced to her feet, ponytail bouncing jauntily. Emi caressed her chin thoughtfully for a moment. “What can I say that’s not already been said?” She wondered aloud, pausing to ponder that very question herself.

“Just an introduction will be fine, dear,” Ms. Ito smiled at Emi blandly.

“My name is Emi Seto. I’m from Tottori. I’m a Libra who enjoys long walks under the stars, light rain pattering on window panes, the joys of bathing while under the influence of melon soda, eating candy, waxing philosophical and delving deep into the mysteries of the universe wherever they may present themselves.” Emi nodded in satisfaction and sat down.

“Uh…thank you, Ms. Seto,” the teacher replied after a moment’s pause. “That was deligh- “Emi raised her hand sharply. “Yes, Ms. Seto?”

“Just Emi’s fine,” Emi said, standing back up. “I’m also a witch.” Now satisfied, Emi sat back down and crossed her arms across her meager chest in satisfaction as silence reigned supreme all around her.