Chapter 11“How do we process that for which we have no prior language?” the tall figure announced at the front of the classroom, hands clasped behind their back, crisp white shirt and waistcoat, wild, dark hair rising up in every direction, as if they had never seen a brush before.
Despondently, Miki looked down at the open text before her, and asked herself what kind of school would employ a person such as this. It had been several days now, in which their strange teacher had been entrusted with instructing them in English, and she still had no idea what was happening in their classes, still had no idea if they were even a man or a woman.
Over time, the class had thinned down, a number of once familiar faces now absent from their seats, and Miki could not work out if this was because th
