The next day, the brass tray was no longer placed in the center of the classroom.
Yamashiro Takuma moved it by the window. Outside, a low branch stretched past the glass, and whenever the wind blew, leaf shadows fell over the fine sand. The shadows were fragmented and moved erratically, as if someone were quietly stirring the tray. The moment Kiyo entered, he stared at it and muttered, "Today even the tray is sitting by the window. It's like it wants to skip class too."
Morita Yu set down his schoolbag. "You can keep it company."
"I'm not that kind of person." Kiyo immediately sat up straight. Less than two breaths later, he tilted his head toward the brass tray again. "It really does look like it wants to run away."
Che could not help but laugh. Once he was done, his gaze fell on the tray's rim. The faint marks in the fine sand from yesterday had been smoothed away, as if nothing had happened. But he knew Takuya would not have moved the tray by the window for no reason. The window shadows, the sound of the wind, and the occasional silhouettes passing outside would all become distractions. If they only practiced cooling down in silence, it would be too easy to think they had mastered it.
When Takuya came in, he carried a string of small brass bells hanging from a short wooden stick. He did not explain, merely set the bells on the corner of the desk and had them split into groups as usual. Seeing the bells, Kiyo looked more serious than he did when facing an exam paper. "Teacher, you're not going to use those to hit people, are you?"
Yamashiro Takuma gave him a bland look. "I don't need bells to hit you."