Banging the Hot MILFs of Tokyo

"If you have spare water, I'll trade you my breakfast coupons!"

Minutes of the echo, Someone down the hall shouted back, "Make it two coupons and a pack of ramen, then we're talking!" A dramatic hiss followed from the person who spoke out. Yuki shrugged off the strong deodorant smell in the hallway, putting his hands in his pocket.

Next minute, a guy damped and a towel over his neck ran down the stairs clutching a bucket of water. "Man," Jun muttered, stepping around a puddle of spilled water on the stairs, "This is the chaos block B boys enjoy every moment. Just like a post-apocalyptic movie, but with less zombies and more hygiene issues."

They pushed out of the dorm building crooked glass doors into the late-morning and class rushing heat lobby. The campus walkway was a gauntlet of students hurrying toward the lecture blocks, some jogging, some speed-walking, others clearly having given up on punctuality and strolling in defeat.

Yuki glanced at his phone. "Five minutes."

"Four if we're unlucky and she's in one of her 'lock the doors on the dot' moods," Haruto added grimly, his bag hanging across his neck. They rounded the corner, spotting the main lecture hall up ahead with students loitered around.

"Alright," Jun said, straightening his shoulders and taking a big breath in. "We walk in together. If she roasts us, she roasts us as a unit. Are you ready?"

Haruto closed his eyes, took some steps up to the door, his hands shaking as he reacts for the doorknob and clicked it opened. They stepped inside and the ever noisy door creaking open.

Instantly, thirty pairs of eyes snapped toward them sneaking through the front door. At the podium stood Miss Aizawa, her ever-present scarf Mittens draped over her shoulders accompanied by her dropping nose bridge eye glass. "Well, well," Aizawa's face grew into a growl, rolling her eyes and adjusting her frame. There was this cold glare subtly switching over to the projector hung above her. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence. Call those who are outside, I'm about to start the test in the next three minutes."

The crowd shifted from them, to the door creaking open with more students shamelessly strolling in, avoiding the thick glare from Aizawa.

"So before I was interrupted." Aizawa threw a dull gaze at Haruto and pushed up her glass up her nose bridge again. Haruto slunk to his seat, sweat dripping from his face. He looked down on the heavy tear paper flipped over on his desk. "Today's test is hundred questions in ten minutes. You can flip over to see the instructions and read carefully."

The room was dead quiet except for the faint rustle of papers as every student gingerly flipped their test sheet. The sound was almost synchronized. And the trios, Jun was the first to take the risk to open the test paper.

Jun's eyes widened at the first page. "Oh, hell no," he muttered under his breath, his esteem slowly disappearing. He closed the test at once, placed his hands on his head and breathed out.

He was truly finished. 100 German questions. The deep breaths weren't working for neither of the three and in the end, flipped it open at the same time.

The instructions were printed in bold, clinical font:

ANSWER ALL QUESTIONS. NO SKIPPING. NO EXTRA SHEETS. NO SCRATCH WORK. THINK FAST.

And then, in an even duller cursive font below: Your handwriting must be legible, or your answer is void.

Yuki stared at the first line of questions and felt his soul gently detach from his body. "Who the hell makes us write this… in ten minutes… for a hundred questions?" She heard him well, but didn't respond.

Aizawa stepped down from the podium, and walked to her seat in the very center of the hall—a position that gave her the perfect panoramic view of everyone.

"One more thing," she said, gesturing toward the giant white screen. The projector blinked to life, displaying a massive timer reading 00:10:00, frozen on pause.

She folded her arms. "Don't bother cheating," she said flatly, her voice slicing through the tense air. "I will find out."

Jun leaned toward Haruto and whispered, "She's bluffing."

Without looking at him, Haruto whispered back, "No, she's not. She's… Aizawa."

Miss Aizawa's eyes swept over them, and for a second, Jun swore she heard him. She reached for the remote, her thumb hovering over the button.

"Ready?"

That obviously didn't need a Yes or No because she didn't care. One of the non chalant, toughest lecturer in All boys Academy. No hesitation, she pressed the button and the projector went from 00:10:00 to 00:09:59. The crowd went into panic, sharply picking their pens up and filling in whatever they knew.

Somewhere behind them, A screech noise from a chair being moved too forward and on that chair, a guy leaning too in to the person in front of him, peeking at his neighbor's answers.

"Nakahara, I see you." Aizawa's voice cut through the dark silence. "One more attempt and I'll end your day early." The boy straightened like he'd just been shot at.

Jun lowered his voice. "Okay… maybe she's not bluffing."

"Shut up and write," Haruto hissed, already scribbling like the pen might explode if he slowed down.

00:08:40.

....

00:02:00.

Jun glanced up, instantly regretting it. His hands were sweaty, his handwriting had devolved into a crime against the alphabet, and the timer seemed to be speeding up just to spite him.

The last thirty seconds were chaos—pens flying across the page, desperate guesses, half-written words. Even the guys who'd given up were faking it just to avoid her glare.

BEEP.

"Pens down," Aizawa said. No shouting, just that cold, matter-of-fact tone that made it worse.

Nobody moved. Then the shuffle started—papers sliding forward, chairs scraping against the tiles as people stood from their seat, frowning and groaning. Jun leaned back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers. "Worst ten minutes of my life."

Haruto's hand was cramped into a claw. "I think I wrote the same answer five times in a row."

Yuki let out a hollow laugh. "See you both in a repeat classes." He rose from the seat, his eyes sweeping the grumbling students in until it landed on Aizawa. Her face still stoic as always before. Yuki slung his bag over his shoulder and started down the narrow stair aisle, shoes thumping against the wood till he got to the last step.

He kept walking.

Miss Aizawa, still in her seat at the center, didn't look up right away. She was flipping through the collected papers with that same detached expression. When she finally raised her head, her gaze locked on him mid-step.

She didn't blink.

Her chin tilted just slightly down—just enough to make him feel like she'd already read his grades in the afterlife. "Pick it up," That tone he never liked her for. He lowered his head, trying to avoid her order but the instant she leaned forward to her table and snapped his fingers, Yuki paused in his tracks.

Yuki froze halfway down the last step. "Uh—"

"Pick. It. Up."

Aizawa didn't wait for him to process. She stood, pushing the chair back without so much as a squeak, scarf swinging as she turned toward the side exit. "Follow me," she said, and started walking without checking if he obeyed.

Yuki glanced over his shoulder—Jun and Haruto were staring, mouths half open. Haruto mouthed dead man walking. Jun just gave a slow, pitying shake of the head.Yuki trailed behind her, the paper still in his hand, eyes locked on the back of her scarf swaying with each step. They passed groups of students waiting for their next class, all too eager to stare at the sight of someone being marched like this.

They reached the faculty wing—a place students didn't usually step into unless it was for "official business," which was code for bad news. Her office was at the far end, door marked in neat gold letters: M. Aizawa – Department of Business.

She unlocked it with a small click and pushed it open. The smell hit him first—something between old books and strong black coffee. Her desk was immaculate: stacks of papers perfectly squared, pens arranged in a straight line, not a single loose scrap anywhere.

"Close the door," she said, already moving behind the desk.

Yuki did. The soft thunk felt louder than it should've.

She sat, gesturing to the chair across from her. "Keep it here and you can go."

"Oh."

That was all he could manage, setting the paper down and straightened up, already half-turned toward the door. If he moved fast enough, maybe he could get out before she decided to lecture him.

"Wait."

The word stopped him mid-step.

Aizawa lowered herself into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "What's your name again?"

"Yuki… Mori."

Her expression didn't change. She reached for the paper he'd just set down, flipping to the first page without looking at him anymore. "Yuki Mori," she repeated slowly, taking out his script from the hundreds of people who took the test.

"Alright," she said quietly. "You can go."