Chapter 22
It's understandable that people might feel a bit irritable if the school opening ceremony coincides with a rainstorm.
I stayed in the auditorium helping with the wrap-up work, but I missed the others heading back to the teaching building and was stuck there because of the rain. The student council president was also standing by the door, and we watched the cumulonimbus clouds that came and went in a hurry.
He announced early in the morning that there would be a department meeting during lunch break, which meant that I needed to submit a detailed proposal before the meeting started. The proposal included, but was not limited to, the final design of the invitation for the Haiyuan Festival, a list of gifts, a list of guests, and most importantly, the budget.
Time was of the essence, and I still had some details to confirm. Seeing that the rain had lessened a bit, I quickly said goodbye and rushed into the rain.
It's not that I'm overly anxious about the student council's work, but this year, in addition to the schools that are invited every year, there are also Hyotei in Tokyo and Rakuzan in Kyoto. I heard that when the president negotiated with Atobe in advance, he was probably underestimated. The other party didn't act like a junior at all, which made him, as a senior high school student, not know where to put his face.
After returning from Tokyo, the president told all of us very seriously that this year's Umihara Festival must be organized in a way that is unprecedented and unparalleled, and no one can say a bad word about it.
Others may not know Atobe Keigo's temperament, but my old friend, Katakura Minami, who grew up with him, had already given me a heads-up. This summer, Hyotei Tennis Club suffered a loss to Rikkai in the team competition, so it was already quite generous of him to accept the invitation.
However, knowing these inside stories is of no use. Not everyone can become the student council president in their first year of high school like Atobe. As a mere department head, I can only do whatever the president tells me to do.
I started preparing during the holidays. After the official start of the semester, the academic workload of the science-focused college entrance exam class will not be easy. In addition, there will be daily club activities and training, leaving very little time for student council affairs. I don't want to be overwhelmed by the deadline.
Of course I won't take on everything myself. Everyone in the External Relations Department is in the same boat, so how could I not drag others down with me?
Yagyu has no chance of escaping, and besides, seeing the carefree young master racking his brains to reduce budget costs is quite a treat.
Those few days, after he and Renwang finished playing basketball with their team, they would come to my family's shop. The three of us would sit in the corner near the TV, where we could feel the breeze from the fan, which was very cool. Dad would often add a few extra pieces of char siu to their ramen. All in all, I really don't know who made a profit and who lost out.
Even though I ran fast enough, my bangs were still wet and clumped together when I got downstairs, which felt uncomfortable against my forehead.
I took out a spare towel from the cabinet, put it on my head, and crouched down as I walked back to my seat. There was only this one class meeting this morning, and it should have ended long ago.
Typically, homeroom teachers in college preparation classes have a lot of confidence in their students and rarely offer any disciplinary advice.
However, the class teacher was standing on the podium at this moment, flipping through the route survey forms that we had handed in that morning and placed on the podium. He had asked us to take them home before the summer vacation.
Even after the era of relaxed attitudes, Rikkai University still insists on posting a red list of the top 50 students. As a conservative and old-fashioned school, it probably doesn't consider students' choice of university as a matter of personal privacy. In addition, with its proud national university admission rate in the Kanto region for many years, students don't seem to care about such things.
Although in my opinion, this is inhumane.
He looked at me very carefully, sometimes stopping to look up at the corresponding student. I saw the teacher raise his eyebrows and then look at me. I brushed my bangs, which I had barely dried, and turned to look out the window, my mind filled with thoughts of whether I would have enough time to reorganize the proposal.
A few minutes later, the teacher beckoned two students over to talk to him. I figured he wouldn't be leaving the classroom anytime soon, so I gave up on my original idea, sighed, and slumped onto the desk.
The girl next to me pulled out a thick workbook, filled with densely written problem-solving steps and notes, her diligent demeanor unchanged.
The bell rang, breaking the lifeless atmosphere in the classroom, but it didn't really save me. The teacher pointed to me and the two boys in the front row and told us to go to the teachers' office together.
I noticed that all three forms had the same application, but mine was the most illegible.
My reason for choosing Dongda Lisan (a university in Northeast China) was rather naive: I figured few people could get into the medical school, and it would make me seem impressive. The teacher probably sensed my motivation, so after giving instructions to the other two boys, he kept me on.
"Okada-kun, being good at everything doesn't mean you can get everything." He turned to my page on a student file on the table.
"Teacher, I'm not that greedy." I glanced at my overall evaluation.
"It's because of greed that you can't choose what you really want." He poked at the words I wrote on the form with the tip of his pen.
I didn't reply. After a moment of silence, the teacher told me to go back to the classroom.
The answer that remained in my mind before summer vacation was not written down. I tend to choose "what I can do well" rather than "what I want to do," so I often can't distinguish the difference between the two for me.
I may have a life plan, like knowing that I will eventually become a criminal investigator, but does it represent "I can do it" or "I want to do it"? Before realizing that this contradiction would accompany me throughout the first half of my life, my worries were never related to this.
My homeroom teacher's words didn't completely leave me unmoved. I think he pointed out something I was unwilling to admit—that I was vain and admired strength, arrogant and stubborn, yet I used these traits to package myself as the beloved Sanae Okada.
Much later, looking back, I saw that my master had paved a whole path for me, even if it was for Tezuka. I still embarked on my journey without hesitation. There was no reason to give up when opportunity knocks. I only wanted to climb higher, so I was willing to grab onto any rope.
Perhaps what I couldn't understand at that age was why, having chosen a future I could never regret, I still felt lost at seventeen.
Sitting in the external relations department's office, I stared blankly at the documents that were still in the final stages of completion, completely lost in thought. I didn't even notice when Yagyu pushed the door open and came in.
"Okada?" He waved his hand in front of my eyes.
I cleared my throat, snapped out of my reverie, pulled the proposal I was holding from under my hand, and handed it to him, saying, "Could you check it again for me? The invitations total..."
He responded and pulled out the chair opposite him, sitting down as he listened to me while looking at the documents. The methodical work gradually made me forget the chain reaction of emotions triggered by the college application process, and I returned to my usual state.
No wonder Niou said that even when I'm about to be buried, I'll still find a position in the underworld; I can't stay idle even after I'm dead.
The atmosphere at the departmental meeting during lunch break was equally unpleasant. Several department heads, including myself, argued heatedly over the budget. One said that the setup would cost money, the other said that gifts were indispensable, and the other said that her equipment was expensive. No one was willing to compromise.
The chairman slammed his fist on the table twice, but to no avail. No one paid any attention. It was only after Sanada pulled out a chair and calmly said "Quiet" that the atmosphere in the meeting room cooled down.
"I will fulfill everyone's requests." The president closed his notebook. "I'll discuss with the university department how much you need."
In the same situation as last year, I heard completely different things. Back then, as a member, I heard the department head complain that the president had surrendered to the university department and only managed to secure 70% of the funding. Now, I was being encouraged not to have any worries and to do my best.
A surge of joy made me forget that the person who had just maintained order was Sanada Genichiro, and that I had the mindset of a primary school student determined to go against him.
The long meeting just ended before the preparatory bell rang. My senior from the school magazine editorial department and I were still discussing some details, and we were the last two to leave the meeting room.
I calculated the time and figured I'd arrive at the classroom just in time for class to start, so I strolled leisurely through the corridor.
As I reached the last corner of the stairs, I looked up and saw Yagyu leaning against the handrail and Niou squatting on the steps. I instinctively took a half-step back in confusion.
Just then, the school bell rang, and I planned to walk past them and head straight to the classroom. But instead, the two of them grabbed one of my arms, lifted me off the ground, and quickly walked down the stairs.
"You need a reason to kidnap me." I lowered my voice and glanced left and right.
"Isn't it obvious?" Yagyu's glasses flashed.
"Skipping class, huh?" Niou chimed in, sounding perfectly in sync.
After hearing the answer, I thought I was dreaming. No, even in a dream, I wouldn't dream of such absurd talk as Yagyu Hiroshi leading me to break school rules.
On the other side of the back gate of Rikkai University, which is closed year-round, is an abandoned old swimming pool. Apart from the summer courage test during my junior high school years, I have almost never been here. The water in the pool was drained a long time ago, and now, with early autumn just arriving, it is filled with a thick layer of fallen leaves, which takes up about half the depth of the pool.
Niou used both hands and feet to nimbly flip over the iron gate. Just as the gentlemanly Yagyu was about to bend down to help me step on the door lock, I had already stepped on the lock and easily leaped over, landing with my uniform skirt in the process.
This is the skill of the judo club's ace.
"Puri, Okada gets a perfect score." Niou clapped his hands in celebration.
I nodded slightly and made a gesture of thanks in response.
After Yagyu turned over, the three of us stood on the edge of the pool, staring down at the fallen leaves. They sat down as if they knew the way, but when I was about to do the same, Yagyu said, "Wait."
Even though I said it wasn't necessary, the gentleman still took off his suit jacket and gave it to me, and only then did I sit down next to him.
The fallen leaves were just deep enough to reach my feet. I kicked them a few times playfully, sending many leaves flying. It had a wonderfully relaxing effect.
"Following the usual formula of detective novels, we should find the body under the pile of fallen leaves," I said with a smile.
"Then you should smell it first." Yagyu was very serious.
"There's nothing down there," Niou said, turning to look at us. "I jumped down there."
Liu Sheng and I both frowned at the same time, never expecting him to do something so absurd.
"I bet you guys will do the same," Niou shrugged.
After that, the three of us just sat there and talked about all sorts of random topics, ranging from elementary school legends to the fact that when we send Yagyu to England next year, we must transit through Hong Kong, and Niou and I will take a graduation trip along the way.
"Don't like Chi Xingzhou too much," Liu Sheng teased.
"No, I prefer Chan Ho-kei* and pineapple buns," I replied.
After some time, Liu Sheng suddenly stood up and said, "We're going to be late for training."
Seeing that Renwang had also gotten up, I laughed at them both, "Aren't you worried at all about being marked absent?"
"Sanada is in more trouble," Yagyu said, extending his hand to me. "Let's go back together."
This time I didn't hesitate. When we clasped hands, the thoughts that had been weighing on my mind were no longer heavy.
Later, I didn't ask them why they had unusually dragged me to skip class that day. I just came back alone again, and when the fallen leaves were even thicker, I changed my pants and jumped into the pool.
Although the reason is unclear, people do jump at least once in their lives, but I don't know if Yagyu ever tried it.
Chi Sing-Chow, whose real name is Bando Ryōren, adopted the pen name Chi Sing-Chow because he liked Hong Kong movies, especially those starring Stephen Chow.
Chan Ho-kei, a Hong Kong mystery novelist.
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