Absence and the Heart

Irina had well and truly left.

And Karasuma missed her.

He never expected to feel this way—that without his irritating (talkative, cheery) coworker around, the staff room would be this dull and quiet.

This was an atmosphere he had worked in all his life, but now... he couldn't stand it.

Clenching his jaw, he resolved to focus on his work. He would be as equally useless as Irina if he allowed himself to be blunted by emotions.

He was trying to write a report (having gotten only a few paragraphs into it despite the two hours he had spent in front of his laptop), when the silence was broken by a familiar voice.

"Karasuma-sensei..."

He didn't look at the octopus, but for once, he was grateful for the distraction.

"What do you want?"

"It's been two days since Irina-sensei left."

"She'll return. No matter what tantrum she's having, she still has a contract with the government."

Tantrum... that probably wasn't the way to describe the fury and pain she had expressed or the ice in her voice as she thanked him for opening her eyes.

That was exactly what he had wanted her to realise, but then why did he feel unsure about it now?

"You aren't worried at all?"

"She's an adult. She can take care of herself."

"But you still miss her."

Karasuma tensed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The octopus didn't seem to take the clear "stop talking" hint in his voice, instead continuing, "The students miss her too, I'm sure you've noticed."

As if anybody could fail to notice the morose mood of the classroom. Karasuma knew they were upset with him and blamed him for Irina's departure, but it couldn't be helped. There were some things that had to be done, and it was long past time that he marked the line between him and Irina. He had allowed her unprofessional conduct to go unchecked for too long.

He should have put a stop to it sooner, before her attempts at seducing him changed from one of her tricks to something serious...

So why hadn't he?

He...

Karasuma closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking about it. His relationship with Irina was a messy tangle of feelings that he didn't know how to unwind, and frankly he was trying not to. It would only complicate matters. After all, he was an agent of the government and she was a criminal wanted in over a dozen countries. There was no room there for anything more than a temporary partnership.

And so every moment he found himself at ease in her presence, amused by her rants, attentive to her words, was dangerous. Unacceptable.

"Karasuma-sensei," the octopus interrupted his thoughts again. "It may have taken the class a while to warm up to her but over the months, Irina-sensei has become a part of this classroom just like you. The students' attempts to pair you two were done with only good intentions, seeking happiness for both of you. It can't be helped if you don't return her feelings, but if by any chance you do, in any way..."

If the octopus said something inappropriate or ridiculous as he so often did, Karasuma could easily have ignored him and put an end to the discussion, but instead he was uncharacteristically serious.

Looking out the window, he said in a softer tone, "It may be hard to believe, but I fell in love once. At first, I thought she was naive and far too cheerful, but as time passed, I came to enjoy her company. But I could never find the words to tell her what I felt and I never really understood what she meant to me... not before she died in my arms. That... is one of my greatest regrets."

The last of his walls that Karasuma had made to convince himself he didn't care came crashing down as a cold sensation washed over him. If Irina were to die out there... His mind easily conjured up an image of her, broken and bloody, eyes open but unseeing, and in response there was a frantic pounding in his chest.

He really was a hypocrite, chastising Irina for her lack of control over her feelings when he was no better.

But there was no need for any concern. She was fine. She might have been missing for two days—ignoring messages and calls from the students, somehow hiding from Ritsu—but she was a world-class assassin. She could take care of herself.

She was a world-class assassin... she walked hand-in-hand with death every moment.

The bell rang right then, signalling the end of recess.

"Well, seems like I need to get going," the octopus said, the sombre air about him dissipating as he gathered his textbooks and notes for the next period.

Karasuma was left alone in the room again with only his thoughts for company. Thoughts that refused to stray from Irina.

For the first time, he allowed himself to consider he might have made a mistake with her.

He only hoped he got the chance to rectify it.