Chapter 33
In order to accommodate the exam preparation progress of more than 80% of the students in the college entrance exam preparation classes, but without openly canceling the autumn school trip, Rikkai University always arranges the week-long overseas trip for first- and second-year students and the domestic trip of no more than three days for third-year students. This year is no exception.
In early October, the student council conducted a survey about travel destinations. Yagyu and I were flipping through the questionnaires in the office, and when we saw that everyone disliked going to Enoshima or the Yokohama Museum of Art, we smiled knowingly. It was indeed the case for the previous two cohorts, because many seniors wanted to go to places that could be visited in a day without staying overnight, so they could only choose nearby destinations. Unexpectedly, they didn't even leave Kanagawa Prefecture in the end.
The final results of the questionnaire survey also had a distinct Xiangnan flavor: children by the sea yearn for the mountains, and children in the mountains yearn for the sea. That's just how things are. As I was finalizing the report, I asked Liu Sheng next to me, "So, are we going to see the autumn leaves this year?"
"Kiyomizu-dera Temple?" Yagyu put down his novel and looked up.
"You're so scary, I haven't even said anything yet!" I exclaimed, my eyes wide.
He pointed to the sticky note next to me, on which these words were clearly written, and then glanced at my report: "Then I'll go sound out the teacher tomorrow."
"I'll go," I replied.
"This year's senior high school parent committee chairman is a partner of Yagyu Pharmaceuticals." Yagyu's glasses gleamed under the fluorescent light.
I frowned slightly, crossed my arms, and slowly shook my head: "I really hate you people who were born in Rome."
"What a pity, I really like commoners." Yagyu suddenly bent down and leaned closer.
"The proletariat of the world has been united for over 170 years." I tried to tap his forehead with my pen, but he dodged it quickly. Then, he tidied up the messy desk in a few quick movements, picked up his books and pencil case, and stood up.
"I'm going back to the classroom now." He opened the office door, and as I listened to the door close gently, I sighed inexplicably, leaned back in my chair, and closed my eyes. At that time, I didn't know that among the hundreds of students in the senior year that year, I was the only one who failed to see the autumn leaves covering the mountains and fields.
As a healthy person who has almost never been sick, the last time I went to the hospital was to accompany Dr. Tezuka Mihara to discuss surgery matters. The time before that was when Nanami invited me to attend a charity concert at the Imperial University Hospital. The time before that was probably when I represented the student council to visit Yukimura, who was hospitalized. It was just like that, but I suddenly fainted in the judo hall on the evening before I left.
The vice minister is in the same grade as me and is a boy. He should have seen a lot in various competitions, but this time, I was the one who fell unconscious on the mat because of a basic triangle lock. Later, I heard from a junior in the second year of high school that he was really scared and ran to the advisor teacher in a panic, crying.
I have no recollection of how I got to the hospital. It was as if my hippocampus had stopped working for an hour. When I woke up, I didn’t have a chance to ask anyone what had happened. The nurse said that my classmate had brought the things and gone home. I turned around and saw my backpack and uniform on the bedside table.
The next morning, I sat in a wheelchair like someone who couldn't take care of themselves, being pushed from one floor to another by my mother, undergoing round after round of examinations.
Perhaps because I was so healthy, the doctor could only use the process of elimination to determine the reason for my fainting. Unfortunately, after doing all the tests, he still couldn't figure out why. Finally, he handed me a business card for a mental health clinic and told my mother, who was standing next to me, that we could take me there for another check-up.
"It's normal for high school seniors to be under a lot of pressure," he explained, perhaps to avoid any misunderstanding.
"No, I don't shy away from this," I said before my mother could speak. "I just wanted to say that I have a school trip tomorrow..."
Before I could finish my sentence, my mother interrupted me, saying, "No, after we see the psychologist, you must go home and rest."
I looked at the doctor, trying to get him to help me persuade my mother, but he just looked away and tried to smooth things over by saying I should listen to my parents.
Reluctantly, I followed my mother to the parking lot with my bag on my back. My phone was long dead, so I couldn't tell Yagyu on Line that I couldn't go to Kyoto, nor could I call Tezuka to tell him that I had just experienced my first hospitalization and that I was perfectly healthy. As for the psychological clinic, at this stage, if I didn't have any anxiety at all, I would be a robot.
"Genichiro is a very sensible kid," Mom started the car, took my bag and tossed it onto the back seat, "much better than you."
"Why are you suddenly bringing him up?" I asked, puzzled.
"Oh, you weren't awake yet," Mom said, as if remembering something. "He took you to the hospital and even arranged a private room for you. You should thank him properly later."
"Are you sure it's Genichiro Sanada? That guy in our club is also tall and strong." I said with a doubtful look.
"Your mother isn't that blind," the mother said, pushing up her glasses. "Besides, he greeted me."
"Oh." I didn't say anything more, resting my chin on my hand and looking out the car window, feeling a tightness in my chest, as if something was blocking my way.
If there's someone you're determined never to reveal a single flaw to, but unexpectedly find out about this, I can't really react other than "I'm so embarrassed."
Some might bring up the incident where Takahashi confronted me, and Sanada also lectured me in a similarly anxious manner. But I handled that situation perfectly, even earning a degree of respect from the soccer club and the entire student council. I was in a position of advantage. But this time is different. All he saw was an unconscious me and a panicked judo club.
After I turned my phone on, my LINE message bar was buzzing. The vice-president alone sent over a dozen messages, and I could sense his panic from the string of emoticons. Everyone in several large chat groups was asking me how I was. Scrolling down, I saw messages from Yagyu and Niou. They had heard from Sanada that I had fainted. They truly are a doubles team; they even gave the exact same advice to take advantage of the school trip to rest for a few more days.
My finger lingered on Tezuka's profile picture for a few seconds. He had just started university at the beginning of the month, and we hadn't been in touch for quite some time. I wondered if he had gotten used to the life of balancing classes and competitions. Our last conversation was on his eighteenth birthday, when I sent him a message saying "Happy birthday, Kunimitsu" and he replied with "Thank you."
I glanced at the time in the upper right corner, moved my phone to the corner of my desk, and then opened the exercise book that I hadn't done for two days. I figured I could barely catch up before bed.
When my mother received the business card, she made an appointment with the psychologist. Although I strongly objected to her picking me up and dropping me off like she did when I was a child, she still forced me to sit in the passenger seat. After dropping me off, she said she had to go to the market to get some goods and would come back to pick me up later.
As I stood alone in front of the clinic, the thought of "running away" flashed through my mind for a moment, but it was quickly kicked away by reason. It wasn't that I really thought I would find anything wrong with the examination; I just didn't want to fabricate a very risky lie to deceive my parents about this kind of thing.
So, with a "see the world" attitude, I arrived at this completely unfamiliar place. I imagined I'd encounter scenes from bestselling suspense novels—plump sofas and recliners, soothing scented candles, and either glamorous or handsome doctors who could dispel the protagonist's inner turmoil with a few words. What I actually saw were appointment slips covered in names, a simply decorated consultation room, and a calm but ordinary-looking consultant.
While I was sitting in the waiting area, someone next to me greeted me. When I turned around, I realized it was my chemistry teacher from my first year of high school. I had only heard that he had later left Rikkai University, and I never expected to run into him here.
I bowed and greeted him as "Hello, teacher," but he waved his hand and said, "Since you've already resigned, don't call me teacher anymore. It's really unexpected that you'd be here, Okada."
"It's not surprising at all that you're here, senior." My tone immediately relaxed a lot.
"Yeah, I was planning to make one last social news story, and you guys, my good students, just happened to come and give me a bouquet of flowers," he joked, "and then become the first handsome teacher in Rikkai University's history to die young."
"I'm sorry, senior, this isn't funny." I frowned and shook my head.
"I'm just kidding. I told you I wouldn't ruin your good time," he chuckled. "I just want to get a good night's sleep. What about you?"
I paused for a moment, briefly summarized what had happened over the past three days, and then said helplessly, "I don't know what could have happened to me, I just felt dizzy for a moment."
"Okada, you're not a robot," he said earnestly.
"I know, of course I'm human." Just as I finished speaking, I heard my number called over the loudspeaker. I stood up. "Then I'll go in first, senior. It's nice to meet you."
He held the paper bag of pills in his hand, staring at my back until the door closed, his gaze lingering there, as if I were overlapping with his past self.
I never saw my teacher again after that, and of course, I never saw him in the news. I did come for follow-up appointments a few times in the following two months. The doctor didn't prescribe any medication; he just told me to learn to feel real fatigue and to truly rest. So, every time we met after that, it felt like I was just handing in an assignment.
He explained to me that my fainting might have been an unconscious somatic reaction. I didn't realize I was tired because my brain kept telling me I could continue, that I needed to expend more energy, and that I needed to get more. Over time, I lost some control; that is, I didn't feel tired anymore, but my body responded for me.
I always thought this was no big deal, but from time to time I would think of my chemistry teacher sitting astride the rooftop railing, his glorious student days, and his earnest admonition to me, "You are not a robot."
But he's read Dazai Osamu's books so many times they're falling apart, so why should I have any expectations for his mental state?
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