Chapter 1
The ramen shop with the "Hechuan" sign had an old-fashioned radio in the corner. The morning radio broadcast was about how the record for the highest summer temperature in the Heisei era was expected to be broken in the next few days. The air conditioner in my room suddenly broke down last night. Although I used a fan to fix it, I still didn't sleep well, which was unusual for me. I yawned several times as I went downstairs. Before going to my morning exercise, I did some stretching at the shop entrance and said, "Dad, I'll be passing by the market in a little while, so Uncle Yoshida won't need to deliver the goods."
"Then we can settle this month's bill with him." The man with a white towel around his neck bent down, placed the cardboard box on the counter, opened the cash register drawer, took out the ledger, flipped through it, glanced at it, and read out a string of numbers.
"Okay." I jumped up and down twice, put on my hat, and set off.
It's 5:36 AM. Summer days bring early sunrises, and half the sky is already bright, but the streetlights are still on, and the clouds overhead are quite thick. I think it shouldn't be too sunny on my way back. My daily morning run route starts from the ramen shop near my house, goes around the market at the street corner, and leads to the sea. Running along the coast is always a very pleasant experience, especially early in the morning when all I can hear is the sound of the sea breeze. It gives me a strange feeling, as if I'm the only person in the world. I remember spending every morning like this.
Today, after climbing the last uphill section and passing the gate of Rikkai University's high school campus, someone called my name from behind. I was carrying two large black plastic bags filled with fresh pork bones I bought from the market—the ramen broth for the restaurant all day. I turned around at the sound of their voice, and there was Yagyu Hiroshi, wearing his team uniform, stuffing a paperback-sized book into his backpack. He looked up and greeted me. I glanced at my watch; it was only a little before 6:30. If I remembered correctly, their tennis team's morning practice started at 7:00.
"So early?" I took the two plastic bags into one hand.
"First-year students are responsible for cleaning, and it's my turn to clean today." Yagyu often carries a heavy tennis bag on one shoulder, but his shoulders are naturally open, making him look very upright.
"Your tennis club really works hard. The International High School Championship is about to start, right?" I remarked, thinking to myself, "It feels like the Kanto Tournament just ended not long ago."
"Sanae Okada, I have reason to suspect you're being sarcastic." Yagyu only pronounces my name properly with honorifics very occasionally, such as when I've touched a nerve, or when last year at the Umihara Festival, he was dragged to our class's haunted house by his good partner and my good deskmate, Masaharu Niou, and in the moment of being scared, he realized that the white-clad woman lying by the well was actually me.
"I forgot, first-year high school students are not eligible to participate," I shook my head. "It's the 21st century, why are you still so particular about grade level? Rikkai University's tennis club needs to keep up with the times, my friend."
The thing in my hand was heavy, so I switched it to my other hand and patted him on the shoulder. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of a bus stopping at the bus stop across the street. It would get off at Rikkai University Station at this time. It was probably a member of the tennis club like Yagyu.
Before the holiday, while organizing materials in the student council office, I looked at the morning training times of various clubs submitted by the sports committee. The tennis club's training time was 7:00 AM, the volleyball and basketball clubs' training time was 7:30 AM, and the judo club, which is the club I joined, had just finished a week-long training camp. Before the start of the competition, they only needed to go to the dojo for training every other afternoon. Unlike their traditional tennis club, the judo club is a place where ability is the most important thing. So this year, I will represent Rikkai University in the competition, just like I did in middle school.
"Good morning, Sanada-kun." I greeted Genichiro Sanada as he crossed the zebra crossing.
"Good morning, Okada-kun." This person always speaks very formally, as do his posture and gait. Sometimes he reminds me of my master, or my master's old rival. In any case, they are both meticulous yet stubborn old men.
Noticing that Liu Sheng's gaze lingered on my watch for two seconds, I immediately said, "Then I'll be going now. Good luck with your training."
Actually, it seems like Yagyu had something else he wanted to say to me, but I had already turned away. Based on my understanding of him over the past three years, if it were something truly important, he would tell me later. It's just that I happened to run into Sanada, and Yagyu doesn't like trouble, so rather than considering Sanada's feelings, which are outside of our conversation, it's better to talk about it later.
No wonder Niou would sometimes say that being friends with Yagyu was both easy and frustrating.
"This kind of person must be the kind who has a girlfriend but insists on keeping it a secret from others."
I remember when Niou said that, I even chimed in with, "What a terrible character to play!" But after thinking about it more closely, it does seem a bit like something Yagyu would do.
Because I got home later than usual, I inevitably received a few complaints when I arrived. Sometimes I don't quite understand my dad's meticulous attitude towards ramen. At least from my efficiency-first perspective, the main purpose of inheriting the shop is still to support the family, and the so-called craftsman spirit is still somewhat ethereal.
Teppei Okada, my father, officially took over "Hechuan" in the spring of that year. I had just started elementary school. On April 4th, after school, I went to the beach with my classmates, but as soon as we got home, my mother hurriedly pulled me into the car. She told me that my grandfather was dying and she didn't know if he would make it through the night. I asked her what she meant by "dying." My mother glanced at me, gripped my hand tightly, and sobbed. This was the first time in my life that I understood what true "separation" meant. It wasn't that you would never see that person again, but that even if you missed that person terribly, there would never be any response from them again.
My maternal grandfather, Kotaro Kagawa, inherited the ramen shop from his father when he was young. He was a generous and outgoing man who preferred making friends to doing business. He knew quite a few important people, including my master, who was one of his many friends. However, I have little chance to know about their past.
I have a deep impression of my first meeting with my master. On the first day of the funeral, Tezuka Kuniichi, the former Superintendent of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, who later became my master, and Sanada Genemon, the former Chief of the Kanagawa Prefectural Police Headquarters, who was also my master's old rival, both arrived at the Buddhist hall early in the morning, each bringing a large number of police officers with them. It was quite a grand affair. For a moment, I wondered if my grandfather was such a prominent figure.
They talked all night in the main hall during the vigil. Although the atmosphere was tense the whole time, I was in the side hall and didn't feel the tension outside. I just kept trying to talk to Tezuka Kunimitsu, who had come with my grandfather. After I persisted for three sentences and only got an "oh" in response each time, I gave up.
I pulled him up from his seat on the tatami mat and said to him, "It's a full moon today, and the view from the beach is beautiful."
He seemed hesitant about my actions, and I think he probably thought it was inappropriate to sneak out of the temple during the night watch, so I said, "I'm the host, and if I say it's alright, then it's alright."
"Oh." He just said "oh" again, put on his shoes, and followed behind me, crouching low and tiptoeing across the courtyard.
As soon as I stepped out the door, I started running. The hem of my dress fluttered wildly in the wind, but I didn't care at all. I felt that from the time my grandfather closed his eyes until tonight, I was finally given a chance to breathe freely. I opened my arms and took a deep breath. My grandfather was a carefree person. He must not have liked these rituals.
Tezuka, who was next to me, must have thought I was strange, but his good manners prevented him from doing what a primary school boy of that age would do to express his confusion. Even when we reached the windier coast, he took off his jacket and handed it to me.
"Don't worry, I grew up by the sea, this is nothing..." I said, and then I sneezed.
"Here you go," he said, and seeing my awkward smile, he took the initiative to put his coat over my shoulders.
I put my hands into my sleeves and sat down on the steps beside me. I looked up at the sky. The full moon made the moon look bigger than usual. Tezuka stood next to me, very quietly.
"Aren't you going to sit down?" I asked him.
"Excuse me," he said.
The steps were narrow, so he could only sit next to me. After that, we stood shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the sky for a very long time without saying another word.
Just then, a ship returning home at night headed towards the harbor. The crew members were communicating with people on the shore using lamps. I watched them with great interest, but Tezuka spoke up before I could.
"He's just letting us know he's safe." His eyes reflected the lamplight.
I followed along and read out the code signal given by the crew. The ship was getting closer and closer to the port. I turned to look at him and said, "You even know this?"
"Navigational signals are usually Morse code, my... my grandfather taught me," he explained, but his teeth chattered because he was cold, so he stammered.
I touched my coat and hesitated for a few seconds, then took it off and pulled it over both of our heads. The wind was coming from behind, so it blocked our view. I moved a little closer to him; we were already close, and now my head could rest comfortably on his shoulder. He stiffened, looking a bit uncomfortable, but I just raised an eyebrow and smiled: "Now we're friends who've been through thick and thin together, Kunimitsu-kun."
"Just call me Guoguang." He pulled his coat up in front of me, looked down at me, and made me omit the honorific in his address.
Looking back, it's always been easy for elementary school students to make friends. If it were Sanae Okada now meeting Kunimitsu Tezuka now, she would probably be ignored from the very first conversation. That guy seems unapproachable, so why should I bother with such a pointless chatter? It's like when I said I wanted to learn judo from Grandpa Tezuka, it was just a simple statement. I didn't consider my master's status or my own. But if I hadn't spoken up, I probably would never have had the chance to leave the small dojo in Fujisawa City and become Kunimitsu Tezuka's only disciple.
At the same time, he was the only person around Tezuka Kunimitsu who could share the pressure brought by his grandfather's strict demands. Now I gradually understand that I am nominally my master's disciple, but in reality, I am a tool responsible for spreading the firepower.
Just kidding.
It's best not to talk about people in broad daylight, but I was reminiscing about some things from elementary school when I turned on my computer and saw an email from my "friend who has been through thick and thin with me." Tezuka said that the surgery was very successful, and after rehabilitation, he will return to high school in October when the fall semester begins. The rehabilitation training during this period has also been arranged, and if things go well, he should start his first professional match at the beginning of next year.
In reality, Tezuka Kunimitsu isn't the type to report every little detail to everyone. The reason he told me everything so meticulously wasn't because we were close friends. He was just an ordinary sixteen-year-old high school student who had disagreements with his family but didn't know how to resolve them. He knew I would subtly convey everything he told me to his master, and since he hadn't yet reconciled with his master about deciding to go to Germany to play tennis and give up becoming a policeman, he used this roundabout way to reassure his master not to worry about him.
I guess I really did end up being a tool between them, the grandfather and grandson.
"...I wish you success in the competition."
However, I still laughed when I saw this part. After all, Tezuka isn't someone who doesn't care about people, so I'll just reluctantly play the role of this tool.
"It's late there, go to sleep. Don't worry, I'm going to Tokyo to see my master soon."
After replying to the email, I could roughly imagine Tezuka frowning and pondering in front of his computer.
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