Underneath the Beech Tree (Kyojuro Rengoku x teacher! reader)

Worthless

The next morning, you arrive at the schoolhouse bright and early out of sheer excitement.

You're absolutely thrilled to see the look on Senjuro's face as you sign him up for the art contest!

As the kids file into class, however, your flame-haired pupil is mysteriously absent.

It isn't until a few seconds before class begins that the door slides open and Senjuro walks in, a small red bump on his forehead.

Your heart sinks as you look at the little artist.

He looks... so down. You'd never seen him like this before.

"Senjuro!" you call in an attempt to cheer him up. "You made it just in time! I was about to send the police out for you!"

Senjuro looks up at you and quickly flashes a smile. Then, his glum expression returns and he takes a seat, pulling out his pencils and paper quietly.

Oh, boy, you think to yourself, leaning back against your desk. This isn't good.

***

By the time lunch came around, Senjuro was back to his smiling self. He had been raising his hand in class, he was actively participating in discussions, and he was even scolded for speaking to his partner during a test.

Something, however, still didn't seem right.

"Senjuro!" you call, waving your hand at the boy as he attempts to scurry out of class.

He turns to you nervously, that look of thorough sadness returning to his face.

"Yes, Miss l/n?"

You smile warmly and sit in one of the student's desks, extending your leg to point at the one across from you.

"Come here. Have a seat."

Senjuro stalls in the doorway, but after a moment, he does as he is told.

When he sits down, he immediately clasps his hands together and stares at the wooden surface of the desk.

"Senjuro," you ask softly. "I noticed you were looking a little down earlier. Is everything alright?"

The boy in question twiddles his thumbs and continues looking down.

"I'm... okay," he finally says.

You raise an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Are you sure, Senjuro?" you ask with the patience of a monk. "You know you can tell me anything."

Several seconds pass in silence as Senjuro avoids eye contact with you.

Finally, he turns his body to face you, his eyes glassy.

"My father says I can't join the art contest," he blurts out all at once. "He says I'm no good, and I shouldn't be wasting my time with such things."

Your eyes grow wide and you feel your heart pounding a bit harder in your chest.

How could a father say such a thing to his son?

"I'm so sorry," you murmur, placing a hand on Senjuro's desk. "It's never a good feeling when someone belittles you."

Senjuro shakes his head and quickly swipes his eyes, clearing away the tears before they could begin to fall.

You got the feeling that he did this often.

"You know," you begin, tapping the desk lightly. "When I was a child, my own father said something similar. I told him that I wanted to be a demon slayer, and he told me that I was too weak. Too fragile. Too weak willed."

You remove your hand from the desk and flex your arm jokingly.

"But he couldn't have been more wrong about me!" you jest.

Senjuro laughs lightly and clears his throat, clearly hoarse from holding back tears.

"What I'm trying to tell you is," you continue. "You can't listen to the people who tell you you aren't good enough. Because 99% of the time, they're wrong."

"I just don't know why!" Senjuro exclaims, throwing his arms out in front of him. "Why am I never good enough for him?"

You gaze down at the floor, a mix of sadness and rage welling in your chest.

"Some people project their insecurities onto others," you say after a moment. You look up to make eye contact with Senjuro and smile at him reassuringly. "Some people are filled with so much pain and self doubt that they want to pretend that everyone else is like them. But you're not, Senjuro."

You hold out your hand to Senjuro, and he places his palm on yours. You clasp his hand firmly but kindly, looking him dead in the eye.

"You are a kind, intelligent, and creative young boy," you say, tears welling up in your own eyes. "You never let anyone tell you otherwise."

Senjuro's eyes begin to water again and he smiles at you weakly. As you stare at each other, both on the verge of crying, you suddenly realize that you hadn't addressed the whole problem Senjuro had expressed.

"And don't worry about the art contest," you say, removing your hand from Senjuro's. "There's always another chance for stardom. Besides..." You look out the window at the cloudless bright blue sky. "I'm sure you'll only create more masterpieces as time goes by."

Senjuro laughs and looks down at his desk, now smiling genuinely.

"Thank you, Miss l/n."

You smile and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

"It's my pleasure, Senjuro. Now, you'd better go eat before it's time to get back to class!"

Senjuro nods and stands up, bowing to you quickly before he takes off.

Once he's out of the room, you sigh deeply and sink into the chair of the desk.

How could a father... be so cruel?

You stare at the bare ceiling of the school house, your heart pounding in your ears.

No. This isn't going to fly.

You're going to go talk to Senjuro's parents, and convince them to let Senjuro enlist in that art contest.

Or at the very least, you're going to let them know that someone values Senjuro.

You stand up and crack your back, then you gaze out the window. Senjuro is now sitting with several other students on a bench, cross legged and munching away on the contents of his bento box.

Nobody is going to be treating a child poorly on your watch.