My Twin Stepsisters Are Way Too Yandere!

Chapter 162: Everyone Has Their Own Answer (Part 1)

Unusually blue Monday afternoon skies greeted everyone.

As always, the school bustled with activity.

Students hurried from class to class.

The sports clubs dotted the fields with shouts and whistles.

Meanwhile, somewhere in a hallway, Akari must have been bickering with Rika for reasons too trivial to mention.

Everything was back to normal.

For everyone else, at least.

For Kuro, however...

His mind still wandered to that day at the counseling center.

---

"...You’ve been staring at your lunch tray for too long now."

Mina’s voice brought him out of his reverie.

He blinked.

"Huh?"

"I’ve seen you stare at that same tamagoyaki for two minutes straight now."

Akari leaned over.

"Kuro is broken."

Rika nodded earnestly.

"He has a chronic overthinking syndrome."

Aoi ate another bite of her meal calmly.

"That’s not a syndrome."

"But it ought to be."

Rika insisted.

Yui turned to look at Kuro.

"Anything wrong?"

He smiled faintly.

"No."

"I’m just thinking."

Akari promptly jabbed a finger at him.

"See? That’s precisely what someone with a syndrome like chronic overthinking says."

Everyone at the table burst out laughing.

Even Kuro couldn’t help but smile.

"...All of you guys are impossible."

---

The talk swiftly moved to their school assignments.

Rika lamented her deadlines.

Akari complained about homework.

While Mina tried to soothe them both, Yui quietly pointed out one of Aoi’s miscalculations.

Despite everything, Kuro felt strangely comfortable in this environment.

But he couldn’t stop glancing around at his classmates.

How many conversations like this had he sped through before?

How many times had he given unwanted advice when all people needed was a good listener?

This idea stayed with him long after lunch ended.

---

Classes passed slower than usual.

And yet even while studying literature, Kuro found himself unconsciously scribbling notes in the margins.

Listening isn’t waiting for your chance to speak.

He read the sentence, then closed the notebook.

The final bell chimed.

Students flooded the hallway.

Kuro picked up his backpack and went in the direction of the faculty building.

There was somebody he had to talk to.

---

Minami’s office door stood slightly ajar.

The teacher sat by her desk, grading quizzes in neat red penmanship.

Without lifting her eyes from the paper, Minami said:

"You’ve been standing outside for thirty seconds now."

Kuro chuckled awkwardly.

"Were you expecting company?"

"You sigh whenever you’re lost in thought."

"Do I?"

"Do you."

He knocked gently despite that.

"Mind if I come in?"

"You wouldn’t have if you hadn’t."

"Then I’m coming in regardless?"

"And you’d better."

---

He entered.

Minami’s office was cozy.

Her shelves crammed books everywhere.

A kettle of hot water sat brewing in the corner.

Light from the window bathed the office in a soft afternoon glow.

After setting down the pen, Minami glanced up.

"So."

"What happened?"

Kuro sat opposite her.

"I met somebody at the center."

"The elderly man?"

He blinked.

"How did you find out?"

"I got a message from Haruka."

"She mentioned that you had talked for almost an hour."

Kuro shook his head.

"Actually..."

"I didn’t really talk."

Minami smiled.

"That’s the point."

---

He stared down at his lap.

"There’s been something on my mind since."

"What is it?"

Kuro took a deep breath.

"...Was what I did right?"

The office fell silent.

Minami didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she made tea and handed him a cup.

"Now tell me."

"What makes you think you haven’t?"

Kuro took a sip.

"...I didn’t advise him."

"I didn’t help him get rid of his sadness."

"I..."

"...Just listened."

He paused.

"And somehow..."

"He left smiling."

Kuro looked up.

"But I don’t understand why."

---

Minami cradled her teacup in her palms.

"Talk to me."

"What did Mr. Takeda ask of you?"

Kuro pondered that.

"He asked for someone to sit next to him."

"And?"

"He wanted someone to talk to."

"And?"

He thought carefully.

After some time...

Kuro gave a shy smile.

"...That’s all."

Minami nodded.

"He never asked you to take care of his grief."

"He never asked you to eliminate his loneliness."

"He never asked you for solutions."

Kuro stayed silent.

Because she was absolutely right.

Once again...

He had been judging himself based on a responsibility that hadn’t been placed on him.

Minami watched him with a kind smile.

Sometimes...

The toughest lesson wasn’t learning what to do.

It was learning what wasn’t yours to bear.

The sunlight filled the office.

No words were exchanged between Kuro and Minami for some time.

Silence wasn’t oppressive.

Instead, it allowed Kuro to collect his thoughts.

All those stories, laughs, pauses, memories of his wife and a quiet smile before leaving.

Finally, Kuro looked at her.

"I still have this feeling that I could’ve done more."

Minami smiled.

"I expected you to say that."

She took a sip of her tea before putting the cup back to the table.

"Kuro."

"Do you know what mistake people usually make when they first want to help others?"

He shook his head.

"They think that they always have to fix something."

"People aren’t robots," she folded her hands,

"They’re people."

Sometimes they just need somebody’s advice."

"Sometimes guidance."

"And sometimes..."

"...just somebody who won’t rush them."

---

Kuro looked down.

"All these times I wondered if I could have said more wisely."

Minami smiled.

"More wisely?"

"Wise?" He asked, perplexed.

"Yes."

"Words of wisdom?"

She laughed.

"Wisdom for whom?"

"...Whom?"

"For me?"

"Or for Mr. Takeda?"

This question left him speechless.

Minami resumed.

"What you really wanted was to leave him with a memorable quote."

"Perhaps..."

"...what he’ll actually remember was that somebody stayed."

---

The office was silent again.

Kuro reflected on the last thing Mr. Takeda said.

"This is the first time in a long while that I didn’t feel that I was talking to somebody, waiting for my stories to end."

Until then...

Kuro was thinking only about what he had not done.

Now, he realized how much he did.

---

She picked up a small notebook from her desk.

In this notebook she had saved all her lesson plans and handwritten notes throughout the years.

Flipping pages of that notebook she found one page which made her smile.

"When I first began my teaching career..."

"I was sure my main goal was to have all the answers."

She laughed.

"I was preparing for days full of perfect explanations of every topic."

"I wanted each of my students to understand everything perfectly."

Kuro smiled.

"So disappointed?"

"I was."

"Because despite how hard I prepared..."

"SOME OF THEM STILL HAD DIFFICULTIES!"

Kuro blinked.

"... What changed your opinion?"

"I simply started asking myself not..."

"...whether I explained everything perfectly enough."

"But..."

"... whether my students felt comfortable enough to ask questions."

---

She leant forward a bit.

"The same rule works with counseling."

"It is not just about the wise words you tell."

"But about the space you leave for someone."

"A place where a person can share their story honestly."

---

Those words hung in the air.

The office was silent once again.

Kuro looked at his hands.

Then slowly clenched them.

Almost as if holding that piece of wisdom.

---

"I think that..."

He said softly.

"...I put too much pressure on myself."

Minami raised an eyebrow.

"You think?"

"I am sure."

"Every conversation must bring changes."

"And if it doesn’t..."

"It means I failed."

Minami smiled gently.

"Kuro."

She waited till he looked up.

"You were not here to fix all his problems."

The room was silent.

Her voice was calm, steady and gentle.

"You were there..."

"...so he would not have to carry them alone."

He froze.

The meaning of this sentence wasn’t in its words.

The reason for this was the fact that it was true.

Nothing had changed since then...

Mr. Takeda’s life was still full of loneliness.

His wife was still missing.

Children were still busy with work.

And yet...

For an hour...

There was somebody, listening.

Somebody who was remembering.

Somebody who was sharing his memories.

---

Minami smiled, seeing how understanding appeared in his face.

"Everybody has their own answer."

She said.

"But nobody can decide what this answer is."

"Nobody can force anyone."

"And nobody can discover their truth for them."

"What we can do..."

"... is be there for them, till they find theirs."

"I understand," he said.

She smiled playfully.

"No."

"You’re beginning to understand."

"There’s a difference."

He laughed.

"Yes."

---

The school bell announced the end of after-school activities.

Voices of students filled the air through the opened windows.

The life went on beyond this office.

Minami stood up and walked to a bookshelf.

She took a small, smooth stone from it.

One word was written on it.

Listen.

Putting this stone in his hand she said:

"I got this from a student many years ago."

"He told me that it always reminds me of my greatest lesson."

He looked at this stone carefully.

"I would like you to take it with you."

Surprised, he looked at her.

"Really?"

"Really."

"And whenever you start doubting yourself again..."

"Just remember why you’ve chosen this road."

"It wasn’t because you wanted to have all the answers."

"You wanted to help people become less lonely."

He carefully placed the stone in his pocket.

"I will."

"I know you will."

---

The sky became orange, as Kuro left this office.

Laughter of students was carried away in a warm spring wind.

Some rushed to the clubs.

Others to their families.

Kuro stopped at the door of this office.

The phone buzzed.

Haruka’s message came.

«Thank you for spending your time with Mr. Takeda during our last meeting.»

«He contacted us today.»

Kuro smiled, reading the whole message:

«He told me that he couldn’t remember when he talked to someone, who listened to his stories without checking the time.»

«He asked whether you’ll be here for the next session next weekend.»

Kuro simply looked at the screen, lost in his thoughts.

A gentle smile appeared on his lips.

Placing the phone back into his pocket he suddenly understood.

There was still a lot to learn.

There will be mistakes again.

There will be people he cannot heal.

But at least now...

He didn’t feel that his value depended on having perfect answers.

---

Sometimes...

Being there was an answer.

Perhaps...

This was where a psychologist should start learning.