Temple school.
After all, fairies and youkai did carry a certain degree of danger. The ones Keine had rounded up were all on the weaker side, but even so, human children were far too fragile to withstand their idea of casual roughhousing.
And danger aside, their sheer rowdiness would disrupt the other students' learning. Separating their lessons from the village children's classes until they'd been properly educated was a necessary measure. Given their lifespans, there was no rush on the curriculum anyway.
The trade-off was that neither the human class nor the non-human class had reached double digits in enrollment. Keine-sensei was still actively recruiting.
"It's that stinky weasel again! I'm getting payback for yesterday!"
Cirno pointed straight at Yimi, surprisingly not fooled by the change of clothes.
Keine had told her that the strongest should study diligently at the temple school—otherwise she wasn't really the strongest. That was the only reason she'd agreed to come.
"Stupidity is contagious." The little cat recognized her at a glance too, and turned her face away to avoid catching it.
"Cirno-chan, we can't beat her..." Daiyousei, who had secretly let Cirno escape early the day before, glanced nervously at Yimi, terrified the cat would call in a parent figure to drag Cirno back again.
"Nonsense, I'm the strongest! Dai-chan, zip it. I'm gonna sneak ice cubes down her collar in a bit."
"You just said it out loud, though."
"Watch this!" Cirno whipped out a Spell Card.
"Cirno. Sit down." Keine's voice came from the lectern. Nobody had noticed when she'd walked up there, but one look at that threatening glare was enough.
The self-proclaimed strongest ice fairy shuddered involuntarily and slunk back into her seat. "Damn it, just you wait."
Keine looked Yimi up and down, appraising her outfit. "Yimi, go sit next to... Rumia. That blonde girl over there. Pay attention during class, okay?"
"Mrow."
The little cat padded over and inspected her seat. Another low table with a cushion on the floor. She sat down and tucked her legs underneath.
"All right, everyone open your language readers..."
Yimi turned to look at Rumia, who had produced a book and opened it—upside down.
The little cat didn't understand, but monkey see, monkey do. She flipped her own book upside down to the same page.
Seeming to notice the mimicry, Rumia turned and studied her. "Who are you?"
"I'm Yimi."
"Oh." Rumia spread her arms wide in her signature pose and asked: "Look at me—don't I look like a saint nailed to a cross?"
"Mya?"
"Rumia, Yimi—your books are upside down, and that's not even the right page. No chatting during class." Keine walked over, righted their books, and flipped to the correct page.
She'd been reflecting on her teaching methods lately. The kids kept complaining that her lessons were boring, so she'd gone out and studied some textbooks from the Outside World, trying to revamp her materials and approach.
The Outside World used silly little stories as reading passages for young children. As an adult, Keine couldn't quite see the appeal; she personally preferred verses and prose with deeper meaning.
But perhaps this sort of thing was better suited for children?
"'Pala the Delivery Bird.'"
Keine surveyed the sea of allegedly brilliant young minds below her and abandoned the idea of calling on someone to read aloud. She'd just do it herself.
"I'll read through it once first. Circle any characters you don't recognize or words you don't understand."
"Once upon a time, there was a little bird named Pala, who worked as a delivery courier for all the animals..."
"...In the end, Pala opened the very last package—and it turned out the recipient was herself!"
Keine looked up from the text.
A miracle. They were actually listening.
Kids really did love stories. She could tell they'd all taken a liking to the little bird in the tale.
Yimi turned her head and saw Rumia gripping a pen, circling the characters on the page one by one.
Halfway through, she gave up because it was too tedious, and turned to ask Yimi instead: "What kind of bird is Pala?"
Her biggest takeaway from class was that birds apparently came in different species.
"Dunno, but I don't usually eat little birds." The little cat swished her tail. "Pala probably doesn't taste good anyway."
Wriggle Nightbug, the firefly youkai at the desk in front, spun around to object: "That's ridiculous. Pala is so kind—her meat must taste just as good."
"Forget birds, I still like frozen frogs better," said Cirno.
In the corner, Mystia Lorelei, the night sparrow youkai, set down her textbook, broke into a cold sweat, and tried to quietly slink out of the increasingly terrifying classroom.
"Who told you this lesson was about eating birds?" A vein practically popped on Keine's forehead.
"There's a shop on Youkai Trail that sells roast bird at night. Have you been?" Rumia grabbed Yimi's tail and stuffed it in her mouth.
"Nope." Yimi snatched her tail back and gave Rumia a couple of kitty punches for good measure.
"That place doesn't sell roast bird—it's lamprey." Mystia's voice rang out in crisp protest.
"What's a lamprey?" Yimi bit her finger curiously, staring unblinkingly at the wings on Mystia's back.
"It's a type of eel that can cure night blindness," answered the firefly classmate at the desk ahead. "The owner is a youkai who can cause night blindness. She's definitely using that ability to drum up business!"
"No way! I'm not that devious!" Mystia clenched her little fists.
"Wait, that stand is yours?" Wriggle was stunned.
"You didn't know?! You've even been there!"
"You're actually that evil!"
"I said I'm not—"
"QUIET!"
Keine's stern voice forced the room into silence.
Where had things gone so wrong...
"Keine, Mr. Nobi dropped off another gift." Mokou knocked and strolled in, carrying a basket.
"Mokou... didn't I tell you not to interrupt while I'm teaching?" Keine looked down at the basket in her hands. A full load of truffles.
"Why would he send something so expensive? And why did you accept it?"
"It was just sitting at the door. I only brought it in to show you. If someone had seen it and swiped it, that'd be a shame." Mokou shrugged.
Keine took the basket with a serious expression. "Cover for me. I'm returning this."
"Fine, nothing else to do anyway." Mokou accepted Keine's teaching materials.
She helped out with class whenever Keine had something urgent. Her own formal education wasn't exactly extensive, but she managed.
She glanced down at the new addition, a tiny cat cub, then flipped through the unfamiliar textbook. "So... where did you guys leave off?"
"We were on the roast bird part." Cirno, self-proclaimed class genius, volunteered the answer.
"Holy shit, Keine's not still holding a grudge against me, is she?" muttered Mokou, she with the turkey powers.
"Holy shit?" Yimi repeated the words.
"What does 'holy shit' mean?" Rumia poked Yimi.
"Dunno." The little cat consulted the ever-reliable System.
"'Holy shit' is generally considered a versatile all-purpose exclamation in the modern era..." the System reported after checking its database.
"'Holy shit' is a versatile all-purpose exclamation," Yimi relayed to Rumia.
Wriggle at the desk in front nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Holy shit."
Mokou, who had just walked in, was sweating bullets.