Chapter 8
Sanada Genichiro, who has practiced Kendo or is still practicing Kendo, is not a good opponent. There is a huge difference between us in terms of height and weight. If he had reacted a little faster or knew a little more technique, I would be lying on the mat in a sorry state right now.
As long as the result is satisfactory, that's enough for me. I'm the kind of person who knows when to stop and isn't ungrateful.
I bent down and extended my hand to him. "Thank you for your guidance, Genichiro."
Hearing me call him that, Sanada looked up at me, hesitated for half a second, but ultimately didn't take my hand. He stood up, straightened his judo uniform, and replied, "Thank you for your guidance."
Noticing Yagyu and Niou secretly checking the situation, they kept shaking their heads and waving at me, telling me not to react or Sanada would find out. However, Yukimura Seiichi, who was openly taking pictures of the scene, completely betrayed me. I think Yanagi Renji must also be somewhere nearby. After all, he seems calm and detached from worldly affairs, but in reality, he has a lot of dirt on the people around him. Niou and I had hypothetically considered the consequences of offending Yanagi and finally concluded that we should not offend him.
Sanada does blush when he's in an awkward situation, though it's not very noticeable unless you look closely. His ears, however, are quite obvious. When he realized Yukimura had filmed him being thrown onto the mat, his ears turned a bright red. I suppressed a laugh, patted his shoulder again, said his name once more, and then turned to go back to the dressing room to change. There was a band performance that afternoon; I'd been temporarily pulled in last week to fill in for a sick senior, and we'd only rehearsed a few times. I just hoped I wouldn't make any mistakes in the auditorium.
Hearing another "Genichiro," he turned his head to look in the opposite direction, his ears turning even redder.
Actually, when we were little, we called each other by our first names. It wasn't anything special; elementary school students often did that. Even now, some elementary school classmates still call me by nicknames like "Sanae." And when I first met Tezuka, I just called him Kunimitsu. Kids don't really care about formalities. Actually, there was a little bit of deliberate intent involved. I remember my grandfather often referred to his two old friends by their surnames, so whenever I mention "Sanada" and "Tezuka," I unconsciously think of the older ones.
As I grew older, I naturally changed how I addressed him. Sometimes I would properly say "Sanada-kun," sometimes I would just say "Sanada," and sometimes, probably when I wanted to tease him, I would laugh and say "Genichiro," which would earn me a red-eared Sanada. Ever since he stopped calling me "Sanae," he has always called me "Okada-kun." How can I describe it? It's just like an awkward kid pretending not to know me.
I struggled to zip up the dress in front of the mirror for ages. My senior is thinner than me, and the dress, which was already form-fitting, felt even tighter on me. I tried to pull in my stomach, but breathing was a bit difficult. I'd have to take it off immediately after the performance, and it was really suffocating. I grabbed my flute case and pushed open the dressing room door. Liu Sheng was standing there waiting, a long trench coat draped over his arm. I was about to say that I was running late and the first rehearsal was about to start that afternoon when he interrupted, "The orchestra is the fifth to perform. You have fifteen minutes to get to the auditorium, so don't rush."
I blinked and nodded, and Liu Sheng, walking beside me, casually draped his coat over my shoulder again. I'd checked the weather forecast yesterday; it predicted thunderstorms by evening. Sure enough, the wind had picked up by the afternoon, and the single uniform jacket I was wearing over my dress wasn't enough to keep me warm. So Liu Sheng's trench coat really came in handy. The extra warmth made me a little absent-minded; I suddenly forgot what I wanted to say, and finally just said thank you.
Yagyu checked the process with his notebook, which he had casually jotted down, and then asked me, "How do you feel about throwing Sanada onto the mat right now?"
I put both arms into my sleeves, buttoned the top three buttons, and hesitated for a moment, thinking: "It's a bit bland than I imagined. I thought it would be more interesting."
"What exactly are you expecting?" Liu Sheng laughed.
"At least it should give people a feeling of 'hahaha, this is so cool!'" I tilted my head and thought. "Right now, it's just ordinary happiness. I think it would be the same if I threw you or Niou onto the mat." I paused and then said, "Unless I can give Yukimura an over-the-shoulder throw, I guess I'll just maintain this ordinary happiness."
"If that's the case, I think..." Yagyu pushed up his glasses, "lying down and dreaming is the most effective way."
With my hands wrapped in clothes, it was inconvenient for me to use them, so I lifted my leg and kicked him. He turned to the side and blocked with his hand, his palm touching the instep of my foot that was exposed from my low-cut leather shoes. After I regained my balance, I took two steps to the right. It was subconscious; I didn't even realize that it was a gesture of resistance and distancing myself.
"Excuse me." As if by reflex, Yagyu switched to polite language mode. The situation was broken when his phone suddenly rang in his pocket. He answered immediately, "Okay, I understand, I'll be there soon."
"Minister?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, pointing towards the school gate, "the senior staff member in charge of reception can't be found, so the minister asked me to fill in."
"See you in the auditorium later." I waved and walked to the other side.
Often, pauses in conversations are so subtle they're easily overlooked, having no impact whatsoever, almost as if they don't exist. Yet, in other situations, even a half-second hesitation can make the whole thing awkward and unpleasant. I desperately hope I'm not describing my conversation with Yagyu, but I glanced down at my trench coat. It was a women's coat, fit me perfectly, and was brand new and recently ironed. This wasn't a jacket Yagyu had casually lent me; he had prepared it beforehand. If I'm fixated on his hesitation before saying "Excuse me," then I can only assume all my assumptions are true.
He does everything thoroughly yet without being ostentatious; Yagyu Hiroshi has this ability. Perhaps it's because we both love mystery novels that we always pay attention to small details that most people wouldn't notice. But although we are both keen on observation, I am simply enjoying it, while Yagyu has consistently adhered to his principle of "doing one good deed every day" for many years.
Of course, I still believe from the bottom of my heart that he is not a warm-hearted person.
"Calling him a sophisticated egoist is a bit of an exaggeration; at most, he's just a rational hypocrite."
He has a very accurate understanding of his own position; I simply can't sum it up in words.
Yagyu led the VIP to the designated location, loosening his tie as he walked, only to straighten it again a couple of minutes later. He sighed silently, trying to swallow back the feeling of exhaustion. Sending someone to bring him a coat wasn't anything to worry about; he was just suddenly surprised at how well he knew the body shape of people other than himself—something he probably couldn't even do when helping his sister pick out clothes. The coat fit him perfectly, even the shoulders were close enough to touch. Was this because he was genuinely good at observing people, or because the subject was a specific person? He refused to answer.
After finishing their tennis club activities, Niou, with his hands in his pockets, strolled around the school with Marui and Kuwabara. He'd heard that Kirihara was going to participate in the afternoon's performance in the auditorium, and learning from last year's disastrous tennis club play, they'd managed to gather over a dozen people to dance "Love Cookie." He was momentarily at a loss for words, unsure how to explain it without making everyone think the Rikkai University men's tennis club members were all abnormal. While Marui was buying cotton candy, Niou spotted Yagyu not far away.
"The clothes have been delivered, Puri?" He stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder.
Liu Sheng frowned and nodded in response. Thinking it best to leave for the time being, he said, "I still need to go help out at the auditorium."
"Let's go together," Niou said, taking out the chewing gum Marui had just given him from his pocket and popping it into his mouth. "I have nothing else to do anyway."
When they arrived at the auditorium together, I was sitting on the stage adjusting the height of the music stand, waiting for the conductor's signal to begin. Niou waved to me, and Yagyu, standing next to me, had his tie slightly askew. I smiled and pointed to my neck, and he immediately looked down. I saw Niou say something, and then Yagyu nudged him with his elbow.
"I wish she had tidied it for you," said Masaharu Niou. "Right?"
"You won't become mute if you say less," Yagyu Hiroshi replied, "Lord Niou."
The skirt was so tight that I practically prayed for the performance to end quickly. Because I was busy changing, I missed the "Love Cookie" performance by the middle school boys' tennis club, which had caused a sensation throughout the school that day. Kirihara Akaya, standing in the middle of the front row, seemed to have danced quite well. The issue of the trench coat was quickly overshadowed by the trivialities of wrapping up the Umihara Festival, and I accepted the trench coat just like I would accept Yagyu's red bean bread.
I'm not immune to romance, although it might sound unconvincing to myself, but honestly I've never resisted it. I think it's probably because my usual demeanor gives people the illusion that "this person only needs herself," so I vaguely know that others see me as distant. But even Tezuka received a basket of chocolates on Valentine's Day, so I can't be worse off than him, can I?
It's not that I'm hoping someone will like me; I'm not interested in other people's likes or dislikes. I just hope that people won't kick me out of the world of romantic possibilities because of how I act. Because if Keanu Reeves were to hold my hand right now, I would still blush.
The first time someone confessed to me was during my first year of junior high school. It was a senior from the soccer club who shouted at me, "Okada Sanae, I like you. Go out with me!" At that moment, I was walking out of the student council meeting room with Yagyu. I was still discussing the contents of the meeting that had ended ten minutes earlier with him, thinking about how to arrange the work I needed to do before we went to training. That's when the senior appeared.
I didn't even recognize him. Liu Sheng whispered a reminder, "This is so-and-so who won the top scorer award in last year's middle school soccer league." I nodded and said "Oh," then looked at the senior who was waiting for an answer and said, "Thank you, but I don't like you, so I can't."
Sometimes I think that the reason I haven't been beaten to death by those around me for being so straightforward is simply because I'm lucky. Especially compared to Yagyu, who patiently comforts girls who like him but whom he doesn't like, I'm definitely the worst kind of person. That's probably why no one has said "I like you" to me since then.
"No, no, they think you and Yagyu are having an affair." Niou shook his finger and retorted. The afternoon sun shone through the glass and left warmth on the two rows of desks by the window.
"Please use polite language, Master." I pulled the curtains a little wider.
"It seems you don't disagree." Niou has always been someone who knows how to grasp the key points.
"I won't waste my time answering questions you already know the answers to." I didn't directly refute that.
A cold wave swept across the coast overnight at the end of October. I wore an extra layer during my morning run. I stretched by the sea, watching the sun slowly rise above the horizon. The world, shrouded in the cold gray of late autumn, gradually revealed its original colors. The major autumn events, the Umihara Festival and the high school sports meet, both successfully concluded in the past month. A couple of days ago, Katakura Tomokazu proposed a new activity at a joint meeting of the student council and various clubs, on Christmas Day, the day before winter break. Everyone was quite enthusiastic, but after confirming the specific schedule twice, I voted not to participate.
Liu Sheng glanced at the note in my hand and asked, "Are you sure you're going to Munich?"
"Yes," I gave a wry smile, "My mentor even booked my plane ticket in advance. I'm sorry, we were supposed to go to the film festival together."
"It's alright," Yagyu said, taking the note and standing up. "There will be plenty of opportunities."
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