Chapter Text
As an undergraduate electrical engineering student at the University of Tokyo, you were in the spring of your third year, a month into the semester. Unfortunately, you were already burning out from studying for your electromagnetism class, and being a research assistant in a lab was taking a toll on your social life, so to make up for not hanging out with your friends, you attended their lectures with them when you did not have classes.
“Show up to my criminal law lecture, Y/n-chan, it’ll be super fun, the professor is not bad looking either!” Shimizu poked your cheek, marveling at the softness. The two of you were at the campus coffee shop, sitting down for a morning hot drink and sharing an almond pastry.
“When is it?” you asked, curious. “Is it a big lecture hall? Like, will he notice I’m not a student?”
“He won’t know, the class is too big and some people totally brought their friends, like- he never cares, ya’ know?”
You hummed. “When was the class?”
“At 13:00,” Shimizu smiled.
You perked up. “That was like- fifteen minutes after my lecture. Yeah, I’ll join you.”
Finding a spot to study was hard, especially in the afternoon, so if you could sneak into a lecture and use it as a place to concentrate, then how perfect would that be?
Being an electrical engineering major meant there were little to no other girls in your classes, so holding onto friendships with girls like Shimizu, who was a law student, felt important.
“Who was the professor for your lecture?” you asked, curious as you sipped on your coffee.
“Oh, Higuruma-sensei,” Shimizu answered.
____________
The lecture hall for Shimizu’s criminal law class was loud with pre-class chatter, as there were around 200 students in one lecture. You and Shimizu sat rather close to the font, only in the elevated third row.
You were half-listening to your friend Shimizu talk about going shopping after classes that day for professional clothes, while your fingers moved across your laptop keyboard to finish your monthly presentation for your research lab later that week.
“Hey, let’s go to Ikebukuro, I wanted to go to Sunshine City,” Shimizu said.
You glanced at her. “Only if we go to the ramen place after.”
“Of course!” she laughed.
Then the door opened from the front of the class, off to the side, and Professor Higuruma walked in.
The air did not change and no one really paid any special attention to him because he was only pulling up the slideshow, yet your chest tightened as if something in you recognized danger before your mind did.
You looked up slowly at first, expecting another tired professor in a pressed shirt and loosened tie, but your lips parted before you could stop them when you saw him clearly.
The shape of his face, and his eyes- it all looked so familiar.
He felt familiar in the worst possible way, not like the type where you were sure you saw him once at a grocery store or rode the train together.
It felt like seeing him meant you should run, or cry and yell at him and tell him all your grievances of something you shared together.
You tried to look back at your laptop, but your body would not let you look away as your mind frantically tried to piece together where you had met him before. Your fingers hovered uselessly above the keyboard, the cursor blinking on an unfinished sentence while your pulse thudded faintly in your ears.
Professor Higuruma adjusted the microphone at the podium, his fingers tapping it lightly once as if confirming its position before resting both palms flat against the wood. He glanced down at his notes only briefly, then up again at the sea of students before him, expression composed.
“Good afternoon,” Higuruma began, voice smooth and measured, the kind of voice that carried effortlessly without needing to raise itself. “Today we’ll continue our discussion on the structure of criminal liability. Other than that, a reminder, I will post the quiz after class today and it will be due by the end of the week.’
He moved away from the podium slowly as the first slide appeared behind him, walking a few steps across the front of the lecture hall.
“In order to determine guilt,” Higuruma continued, pausing slightly as his gaze swept across the rows, “we must first ask whether an act occurred. Second, whether the act was unlawful. And third, whether the actor possessed the requisite intent.”
The word guilt landed in your chest like a stone, and suddenly a fragment of a memory flooded your mind-
(Higuruma Hiromi’s Domain Expansion, Deadly Sentencing, was something you never thought you would be a victim to. The hatred in your heart was overflowing, covering the heartbreak that threatens to make you shed tears.
Since the Culling Games started, you had killed eight players so far as your identity of a newly awoken sorcerer.
“I’m guilty for killing them? Yeah, so what if I was? They were guilty for trying to kill me first!” You screamed at Higuruma and his shikigami, pointing at both of them with your cursed tool.
He looked at you with a lack of emotion, “The attacked occurred, and the act was unlawful-”)
You swallowed, confused more than ever as if that was some sort of a dream or your imagination. What was a Domain Expansion? You were a sorcerer? What was all that about?
Professor Higuruma clicked to the next slide, turning slightly so that his profile caught the light, the sharp line of his jaw outlined briefly against the projection, “Intent is what distinguishes accident from crime, it is what transforms harm into culpability.” His brows lowered slightly as he elaborated on mens rea, explaining how the law required not only action but state of mind of the accused.
Soon, halfway through the lecture, while talking about the next topic Higuruma glanced up.
Your eyes met.
It was not dramatic, he did not freeze entirely but there was the smallest pause in his speech and his gaze lingered on you.
Then he continued as if nothing had happened, turning back toward the screen, tone unchanged. “Even when an act fulfills the elements of a crime, there may be circumstances under which society determines that punishment is not appropriate.”
The rest of the lecture blurred in and out, your mind only half-absorbing the examples he gave, the case precedents he referenced. He was a good professor, that much was undeniable.
When the lecture ended, Professor Higuruma closed his folder neatly, nodding once toward the room. “That will be all for today, please review the assigned case for next week.”
Chairs scraped against the floor almost immediately as students began packing their bags, conversations rising in volume as the structure of the lecture dissolved into casual noise.
Your eyes followed him as he gathered his materials, examining how he adjusted his tie slightly, smoothing it down once with his palm before stepping away from the podium.
You thought about going up to him to talk, but what would you even talk about to him?
Then doubt crept in, you were probably just paranoid.
People resembled each other all the time, and that memory was probably a dream you had once before.
Before you could overthink it further, Shimizu’s hand landed on your shoulder, fingers squeezing lightly. “Y/n-chan?” she said, tilting her head. “You okay?”
You blinked up at her, realizing you had been staring toward the front far too long. You shut your laptop with a quiet snap, the sound grounding you.
“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about other classes,” you answered quickly, forcing a small smile.
“Well, wake up, we’re going shopping,” Shimizu laughed, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. “Both our classes are over for the day, right? So let’s just relax and go shopping.”
You stood, legs feeling oddly unsteady as you slipped your laptop into your bag. The chatter of students around you felt distant, like you were moving through a different layer of sound. As you and Shimizu shuffled toward the exit with the rest of the crowd, you allowed yourself one last glance toward the front of the room.
Professor Higuruma was still there, talking to a student, but his gaze lifted again briefly and for brief a second you felt like he had been watching you leave.
You turned away immediately, heart racing.
By the time you stepped into the hallway, your hands were trembling and you could not explain why.
And no matter how brightly Shimizu talked about ramen and shopping plans beside you, the word guilt echoed faintly in your mind.