Takeru Hoshino & Mahiru Shiina

Mahiru Shiina perched on her desk, the soft sunlight streaming through the classroom window. Leaves danced outside, their brilliant reds and yellows contrasting sharply with the dull gray of the school building. She arranged her pastel sweater, smoothing down imaginary wrinkles. The students around her laughed and whispered, their voices rising and falling like a distant wave.

"Did you see Takeru-Sensei in that jacket yesterday?" one girl remarked, glancing toward Mahiru with wide eyes.

"Yeah! So cool but kinda intimidating," another added, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Mahiru focused on her notebook, scribbling notes she'd never look at again. The chatter floated over her like an echo in a vast hall—familiar yet distant.

"Just let them talk," she told herself. "It's better this way." She tucked a lock of flaxen hair behind her ear, feeling that familiar flutter of unease in her chest. The "angel" role suited her, after all; it kept everyone at bay while she watched from the sidelines.

The conversation shifted as they shared stories about last weekend's party—a whirlwind of laughter and carefree joy that Mahiru felt detached from. Inside, she bristled at the thought of joining such frivolity. But what choice did she have? Being perfect meant standing apart.

Her thoughts wandered to Takeru Hoshino. Just yesterday at the grocery store, she'd spotted him near the produce section, inspecting apples with furrowed brows as if they held secrets. He hadn't seen her; he rarely did outside school hours, it seemed. It was just a coincidence—a fleeting moment shared in a mundane setting.

The classroom door swung open with a confident creak. Takeru stepped inside, navy-blue hair catching the light like dark waves beneath the sun's glow. He flashed his trademark smile—warm yet playful.

"Alright, everyone! Ready for another thrilling day of pop quizzes?" His voice rang out like a bell.

A ripple of groans swept through the room as he grinned wider.

Mahiru glanced up briefly before focusing on her notes again but couldn't shake off his presence—handsome and charismatic in a way that made her heart stutter for just a moment longer than it should have.

"Let's make sure we're all awake for this one," he added with a chuckle before moving to his desk.

She returned to gathering materials for today's lesson, feeling both isolated and captivated by his energy as it filled the space around them.

___________

The afternoon sky darkened as clouds rolled in, heavy and oppressive. Mahiru stood at the school gates, peering into the thick curtain of rain cascading from above. She patted her bag, her heart sinking when she felt nothing but her books. The umbrella rested on the kitchen table at home, a forgotten casualty of her rushed morning.

She contemplated waiting it out. Students dashed past, laughter mingling with the sound of raindrops splattering against the pavement. Drenched clothes clung to them, but they didn't seem to care—freedom in their soaked abandon.

"Just a little rain," she muttered to herself. Yet the droplets fell harder, a rhythmic drumming that made her shiver. The thought of standing alone under the awning for who knew how long tightened something in her chest.

Her gaze drifted across the courtyard until it landed on Takeru Hoshino, his figure silhouetted against the swirling storm as he walked toward the exit. A flash of warmth sparked within her; perhaps she could ask him for help? But doubt tugged at her thoughts like a child pulling on its parent's sleeve.

He was busy; he had his own life beyond being her teacher—one she couldn't intrude upon with such triviality.

Just as she steeled herself to turn away, Takeru's sharp navy-blue eyes caught hers through the haze of rain. He hesitated, his brows furrowing as he noticed her stillness beneath the awning.

"Shiina-san!" His voice sliced through the storm like a beacon. "You're not leaving in this downpour, are you?"

Mahiru felt heat rush to her cheeks. "I—"

"Here," he said, approaching with an umbrella raised over his head, its fabric black and solid against the weather's fury. "I have a spare in my car."

"No, really! I'm fine," she insisted quickly, even as temptation tugged at her resolve.

"Just take it." His tone shifted slightly—more insistent now—yet laced with that same warmth that always left her breathless.

Before she could protest further, he handed it over and stepped back into the rain without waiting for an answer.

Mahiru clutched the umbrella tightly, guilt swirling within her like dark clouds above. The storm continued to pour around them while Takeru walked away, his figure slowly becoming a blurred shadow through sheets of water.

Her heart swelled with gratitude yet tightened with remorse. She resolved then and there to return his umbrella tomorrow—a small act to ease the burden she felt from taking something that wasn't hers.

___________

The evening air felt cooler as Mahiru Shiina pushed open the door to her apartment complex. The scent of rain lingered, mixing with the faint aroma of fried food wafting from a nearby unit. She clutched her shopping bag tightly, feeling its weight—a few snacks and a new notebook—little comforts for a long week ahead.

As she stepped inside, the familiar buzz of fluorescent lights greeted her. She walked toward the vending machine in the corner, where a figure leaned casually against it.

Takeru Hoshino stood there, a casual elegance about him even in his button-up shirt and tailored trousers. He rifled through his pockets with one hand while eyeing the options displayed on the machine's glass front.

"Ah! Shiina-san," he looked up, surprise dancing in his navy-blue eyes. "Didn't expect to see you here."

She hesitated, caught off guard by their proximity outside of school hours. "Takeru-sensei," she managed, her heart racing. The title slipped out almost automatically, but he smiled, dispelling some of her unease.

"Just Takeru is fine when we're not in class." He gestured to the vending machine with a slight tilt of his head. "What do you think? Worthy snacks?"

Mahiru felt her cheeks warm at their informal exchange. "I—uh—I just got some things from the store."

"Stocking up for an exam week?" he asked, leaning forward slightly as if genuinely interested.

She shrugged, unsure whether to admit she often bought sweets to indulge herself during study sessions or quiet evenings alone.

"I didn't know we lived in the same building," he continued, studying her face for any hint of discomfort.

Mahiru glanced around as if confirming their surroundings—the same hallway, those same beige walls that echoed laughter and footsteps. "You're on the third floor then?"

"Yeah." He ran a hand through his dark hair, the silver streaks glinting under the light. "I just moved in last month."

Curiosity fluttered within her; so close, yet worlds apart. She took a breath and said, "I guess we'll be seeing more of each other then."

"Looks like it." Takeru chuckled softly but quickly fell silent when an awkwardness settled between them.

The moment stretched out; Mahiru felt both exhilarated and uneasy by this newfound connection—a secret thread woven between them amidst societal expectations and hidden feelings.

Takeru shifted on his feet as if weighing something unspoken before finally adding, "Well, let me know if you need anything—school-related or not."

His words hung in the air like an invitation wrapped in caution.

As Mahiru walked through the ornate hallway of her mansion, she felt a strange sensation of disorientation. Seeing Takeru outside of his role as her teacher shocked her, almost as if he were some mythical creature glimpsed in the wild. For the first time, she realized how confined their interactions were to the structured walls of academia. He was always the impeccably composed professor, guiding her through dense academic material with a warmth that belied his stature.

Outside the school, he was just...Takeru.

This casual normalcy unknown to her made him seem different, more approachable in a way that both frightened and intrigued her. The image of him lingering near the building entrance, his easy smile etched on his face, echoed through her thoughts.

___________

The scent of simmering ginger and garlic filled Mahiru's small apartment. A symphony of clattering pots and pans accompanied rhythmic chopping as she meticulously prepared the meal. It wasn't necessarily a difficult recipe: chicken and vegetables stir-fried with a simple soy sauce glaze. Yet, beneath the facade of culinary confidence simmered a cauldron of nerves.

A gift. This was a gift, wasn't it? And what did that imply - a flirtation? She flinched, the image of Takeru's kind eyes widening in surprise, or worse, horror, almost blinding her with its intensity.

He wouldn't want to feel obliged, she knew. She'd already softened his reservations with the borrowed umbrella, the casual slightness of it, how natural his acceptance had been. Now, this was an escalation, wasn't it? Yet, the thought of him walking elsewhere, hungry after a long day, quelled her doubts.

He'd seemed genuinely grateful for the umbrella, his generous smile lingering like a sweet aftertaste.

Should she wait until morning to simply hand it to him at school? No, too public. Too forced. The idea of him receiving this amongst his students made her stomach clench. He needed an element of privacy, of surprise, something that conveyed her appreciation without being too brazen.

An idea popped into her head, a flitting sensation of hasty inspiration.

___________

Takeru Hoshino leaned against his doorframe, fatigue weighing on his shoulders. Grading essays had dragged into the night, and the lingering scent of stale coffee hung in the air. He rubbed the back of his neck, preparing to face another mundane evening, when a knock interrupted his thoughts.

Opening the door, he found Mahiru standing there, looking immaculate as always. Flaxen hair framed her porcelain face, and her caramel eyes shimmered with a hint of mischief.

"Shiina-san?" He blinked, surprised to see her at his doorstep.

She clutched a bento box in one hand and his umbrella in the other. "I found out from Mr. Yamamoto where you lived." A small smile tugged at her lips.

His heart raced. The old landlord's friendly nature had always been helpful, but now it felt like an unwelcome breach of privacy.

"I brought your umbrella," she continued, lifting it slightly as if presenting a trophy. "And this." She nudged the bento box forward with both hands.

"What's this for?" He furrowed his brow but couldn't hide his intrigue.

"Just some leftovers from dinner." She shrugged, but her cheeks flushed faintly. "Think of it as my thanks for... well, everything."

He chuckled softly, taking the items from her grasp. "You didn't have to do this."

Her expression hardened momentarily before she relaxed again. "Take it or leave it," she said lightly, her eyes glinting with playful defiance.

"Alright then," he replied with a grin.

She nodded once, satisfaction etched on her features, before turning away.

"Goodnight, Takeru-Sensei," she called over her shoulder as she walked down the hall.

"Goodnight!" He watched until she disappeared around the corner before shutting the door.

Curiosity piqued, he set the umbrella aside and opened the bento box on his kitchen counter. The vibrant colors greeted him—bright green snap peas nestled beside golden-brown chicken pieces glistening with sauce and aromatic vegetables that steamed gently within their compartments.

He took a bite and savored the flavor that exploded in his mouth—savory with just a hint of sweetness—like something from a restaurant rather than a home-cooked meal by an inexperienced teen.

Incredible.

Later that night, he scribbled on a small piece of paper:

Thank you for the meal. You're an incredible cook.

He tucked it under her doormat before heading back inside to enjoy another evening of grading—and perhaps savoring leftover chicken from Mahiru's thoughtful gesture once more.

___________

Morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft patterns on Mahiru's bedroom wall. She stirred awake, the remnants of a peaceful dream fading like mist. The aroma of her breakfast creations lingered in the air, pulling her from slumber and nudging her toward the kitchen.

After preparing a modest meal for herself, she slipped into her pastel sweater and knee-length skirt, ensuring every detail was pristine before stepping out. She grabbed her bag and paused at the door, glancing around for anything amiss.

As she was about to open the door, something caught her eye—a piece of paper lying on the floor next to her doormat. Kneeling down, she picked it up and unfolded it slowly.

Thank you for the meal. You're an incredible cook.

Her heart fluttered as she read Takeru's neat handwriting. Warmth bloomed in her chest, but she quickly suppressed it. They existed in two different worlds—his role as teacher and hers as student created a chasm too wide to bridge.

She bit her lip, forcing herself to focus on the reality of their situation.

"Just an exchange," she whispered to herself. "Nothing more." Yet the paper felt like a thread connecting them, even if unspoken.

Tucking the note safely into her bag, Mahiru straightened up and stepped outside. The sun greeted her with gentle rays that warmed her skin, but an unfamiliar unease crept into her thoughts. As she walked towards school, snippets of their previous interactions replayed in her mind—the way he listened so intently when she spoke or how his eyes sparkled with amusement at her antics.

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the memory of his laughter echoing in their brief exchanges.

"Stop it," she muttered under her breath as she hurried down the path lined with cherry blossom trees. "He's just being polite."

Mahiru clenched her fists tightly around the straps of her bag. Their lives couldn't intertwine; Takeru belonged to a world that had rules—boundaries that dictated their connection. Yet as each step took her closer to school, a flicker of warmth ignited within her again—a warmth she feared could turn into something more dangerous if left unchecked.

She shook off the thought and focused ahead; school awaited—an arena where maintaining appearances was paramount.

Author's Note: 

This is a Fanfic on Mahiru Shiina and a forbidden relationship with a Teacher, Takeru Hoshino. 

If you have any ideas on what kind of interactions, moments or events to include, let me know, and maybe I'll make your idea into a scene or an entire chapter. 

Not the best at his whole romance thing, as well as its pacing.