Here is the link for the volume 3 chapter epilogue

--

Epub available in ToC!

​Epilogue

​In the martial arts dojo after school, a sound echoed. To call it the clashing of wooden swords would be a misnomer; the noise was far too metallic for that.

​It was the sound of mana-hardened blades grinding against one another—specifically, my wooden sword catching Aouji's strike. Naturally, my 'Soundproofing' magic ensured that none of these sharp, concussive sounds leaked outside the dojo.

​"Shi! Sei!"

​The swordsmanship of the long-haired, black-haired high school swordswoman, Aouji, had been growing sharper by the day. Today, her strikes carried an exceptionally fierce intensity—enough that, as a former Hero, I could practically feel a trace of bloodlust. Still, her earnestness in training was commendable, so I couldn't help but crack a small smile as I parried her blows.

​"Alright, that’s enough," I called out. "Your form got a little sloppy at the very end. You need to keep a cool head, especially when your stamina starts to flag."

​"Pant, pant... Understood... Thank you... very much."

​Aouji bowed politely while catching her breath and retreated to the side of the dojo. I could have sworn she gave me a brief glower just now. Was she still sore about what happened the other day? Even if it had been a misunderstanding on my part, I had only lectured them out of concern.

​As Aouji sat in the seiza posture near the wall, Miruma approached her and cast a mild 'Healing Power'.

​"Good work, Senpai," Miruma said.

​"Thank you, Miruma-san."

​"You seemed a bit scary today, Senpai. Is something bothering you?"

​"It’s not really that, but... well..."

​Aouji shot a fleeting glance in my direction as she spoke. Following her gaze, Miruma looked over at me with a puzzled expression of her own.

​While I stood there unsure of how to react, Soutou smirked and nudged Miruma.

​"Don't worry about it, Toneri-chan," Soutou-san giggled. "Misono-chan is just a little frustrated because a certain dense someone didn't praise her when she went to all the trouble of dressing up."

​"Eh?"

​"Kagari-chan, don’t say weird things! Besides, you’re exactly the same, aren’t you?!"

​"Oh, I didn't expect anything from the start, so it doesn't bother me~"

​"You say that, but I remember you being the first one to complain."

​"Well, that's because if we didn't firmly set him straight then and there, Sensei would be the one struggling later~. Call it my act of kindness."

​Soutou flashed me a smug, patronizing grin as she spoke.

​Sensing something from the exchange between Aouji and Soutou, Miruma walked over to me.

​"Sensei, did you happen to see the seniors in their casual clothes?" she asked.

​"Uh... yes? Well, I suppose so...?"

​Given that I had indeed met up with Aouji and the others at nine o'clock at night, I found myself in a bit of a spot trying to answer.

​When I offered a vague, noncommittal reply, Miruma lowered her voice slightly.

​"I think you really ought to give them your thoughts. You know... like you did for me."

​"For Miruma-san?" I blinked.

​Wait, had I ever commented on Miruma’s casual wear? Come to think of it, I had only ever seen her in plain clothes once at the 'White Fox' agency office.

​As I stood there racked with confusion, Ayato slipped over to join us.

​"Sensei, she’s talking about the night she was kidnapped," Ayato explained.

​"Ah, that night. But did I really say anything about her outfit?"

​"You... you said I looked... cute... I think," Miruma-san whispered, her face flushing crimson as she answered.

​I did recall saying something like that, but I was pretty sure I hadn't been commenting on her fashion choices... It was a misunderstanding on Miruma’s part, but I figured there was no need to go out of my way to correct her.

​Or so I thought. Unfortunately, it seemed Miruma’s quiet whisper had not escaped the exceptionally keen hearing of Aouji and the others. Aouji, Soutou, Niira, and for some reason, even Amano-san, began closing in on me, practically radiating a subtle aura of pure malice.

​Wait, hold on. Watching them glide toward me with an unspoken glower effect was actually terrifying.

​And of course, Aouji's piercing glare made it feel like I was about to face an execution.

​"Sensei, what exactly was that about?" Aouji demanded.

​"We were just talking about how Miruma-san was almost kidnapped the other day," I explained hastily.

​"Yes, I heard about that from Toneri-san. But how does that lead to a conversation about casual clothes?"

​"Well, back then..."

​Once I explained the sequence of events from that night, Aouji and Soutou let out heavy, synchronized sighs, seemingly realizing it was all just a misunderstanding on Miruma’s part. Niira merely continued to stare at me with her signature lifeless eyes. Amano-san, however, muttered something utterly incomprehensible like, "Aiba-sensei has a strong cuckold predisposition...!"

​"Well, let's leave it at that," I said, forcing the subject closed. "Alright, Ayato-kun, are you my next sparring partner? The rest of you, get back to your mana training."

​Despite the heavy atmosphere, the topic itself was utterly trivial, so I rather forcefully ushered everyone back to their exercises. Aouji and the others still looked like they had plenty to say, but they reluctantly dispersed to resume their training.

​Just then, I sensed someone approaching the dojo.

​"Excuse me," a refined voice called out.

​Stepping inside was the golden-ringleted ojou-sama, Kukami Sekai. The moment Kukami spotted me, she glided over without a moment's hesitation. It was rather amusing to see Aouji shift into a subtle defensive stance at the sudden appearance of her rival.

​"What brings you here?" I asked.

​"My apologies, but I had yet to receive your bank account details, Sensei," Kukami-san said. "My father has been pressing me about it, so I must ask you to share them with me as soon as possible."

​"Ah, right, I completely forgot about that. Got it, let’s head over to the staff room for a bit."

​A while back, Kukami-san's father, Jinma-sama, had asked me to convey my bank details to her so he could transfer my reward. Although I could easily check the number on my smartphone, doing so right here in the dojo felt a bit inappropriate.

​And so, I escorted Kukami to the staff room, looked up my account number, wrote it down on a memo, and handed it to her.

​"Thank you very much. I expect the funds will be transferred by the day after tomorrow," she said with a polite nod.

​"Understood. Just... please tell your father to make it an amount that won't give an ordinary citizen like me a heart attack."

​"You could simply think of it as winning the lottery, could you not?"

​"You aren't seriously planning to transfer that much, are you?"

​When I pressed her, Kukami merely giggled, making it glaringly obvious she was dodging the question. Seriously? How much were they planning to send?

​"More importantly, the atmosphere inside the dojo felt rather unusual just now. Did something happen?"

​"Hm? Oh, we were just talking about the time Miruma-san was almost kidnapped."

​"I heard about that as well. I believe you and Daimon-san intervened to stop it."

​"As expected of Kukami-san, you're well-informed."

​"Yes, to some extent. We do maintain connections with Daimon-san’s associates, after all."

​"Ah, right. That makes sense."

​The Kukami family and White Fox—the secret organization Ayato-kun belonged to—were in a cooperative alliance. It was only natural that Kukami would have access to information from White Fox's side.

​As I nodded in understanding, Kukami directed a searching, probing gaze toward me.

​"By the way, Sensei... if I were to be kidnapped, would you come to my rescue in the same manner?"

​"Well, of course I would. I literally just saved you the other day, didn't I?"

​"Hehe, yes, you did. That was a foolish question of me. However, Sensei, are you aware that when a girl asks a question like that, there is often a hidden meaning behind it?"

​"A hidden meaning?"

​I ended up asking in return, but as a language arts teacher, I could at least grasp the basic concept when explicitly prompted.

​"Ah... for example, while it outwardly takes the form of a question, it is actually an indirect plea for protection?"

​"That is a very close guess. However, when the interlocutor is a young lady, it often carries a deeper implication."

​"Huh? Hmm... I think that's starting to cross into territory I'm not very good at."

​When it came to the unique psychological patterns of teenage girls, it was well outside my expertise as both a teacher and a former Hero. Though, considering I taught at what was essentially an all-girls environment, that might actually be a bit of a problem.

​When I voiced my surrender honestly, Kukami narrowed her eyes, a meaningful smile playing on her lips.

​"I believe I understand you quite well now, Sensei. No wonder Usa is having such a difficult time making any headway. It seems you have much to learn in that department. I shall take my leave for today."

​With an elegant bow, Kukami departed the staff room.

​What was that all about...? Just as I was wondering, Yamashiro-sensei poked me in the back from behind.

​"Aiba-sensei, it seems Kukami-san is finally getting serious," she teased.

​"About what?"

​"About the hidden meaning behind the question, 'Would you come to my rescue?'"

​"What kind of meaning does it actually have? I thought my interpretation was perfectly sufficient."

​Yamashiro-sensei shook her head in amusement at my response.

​"I think you're overcomplicating things, Sensei. The actual meaning is far simpler. It’s all about whom a girl wishes to be rescued by."

​"Huh...? Someone strong, perhaps?"

​As a former Hero, I believed that to be the objectively correct answer. Yet Yamashiro-sensei didn't tell me whether I was right or wrong. Instead, she merely chuckled to herself, looking thoroughly entertained.

​Man... First Aouji and the others, and now Kukami. It really did seem that my complete lack of experience left me wholly unable to comprehend the teenage female mind.

​In that sense, the unresolved issues on my plate—like the other-worldly 'Abyss Caves', the 'Illegal Magical Waste', the 'criminal organization Fymaqud' syndicate, or even the foreign branches of 'Crimson Twilight'—were far easier to deal with.

​Come to think of it, ever since I became a Hero, I had spent all my time tackling massive, high-stakes incidents on a national or global scale. Perhaps that was why I had grown so terribly oblivious to the subtle nuances of personal emotions.

​Of course, even if that were true, it didn't solve anything. In fact, it only made me look like an utter failure of a teacher.