Chapter 12
The days were like the slowly flowing stream outside Hyotei Academy, regaining their proper, peaceful and tranquil rhythm.
Those thrilling conflicts, tears of grievance, and fierce confrontations seem to have become faded old photos in distant memories, carefully sealed away.
The occasional encounter with Atobe in the corridor was no longer a low-pressure atmosphere of tension, nor was it an awkward situation of deliberate avoidance.
I learned to nod slightly and make eye contact calmly for a moment as a greeting.
He, too, had lost all the arrogance and anger in his eyes, replaced by a calm, distant politeness.
We are just acquaintances, just right, and it is an unspoken understanding between us.
In the contact list of the mobile phone, a call reminder will light up every three days under the name "Atobe Keigo".
The time is as precise as a Swiss clock, and the call duration is fixed at one hour.
The content has nothing to do with romance, it is all about the handling of campus bullying incidents and the promotion of subsequent reform measures.
He reported the progress in a clear and organized manner, from the severe punishment of the perpetrators to the establishment of a psychological counseling mechanism, from the improvement of anonymous reporting channels to the planning of a school-wide anti-bullying publicity week.
I listened quietly and put forward my own insights and plans at the right time, with clear logic and to the point.
On the other end of the line, Atobe Keigo's response was so undisguised that his admiration almost penetrated the receiver: "This idea is very clear."
“It’s highly feasible.”
"Kiriyama-san, your advice is very valuable."
He even extended an invitation to me, hoping that I could join the student union and work together to promote these reforms.
Holding the phone, I tapped the tabletop with my fingertips and declined gently but firmly: "Thank you for your kindness, Atobe-san, but I'm busy."
Student Union? That's too dazzling a stage for me, who just wants to observe the world.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, followed by his understanding, low response: "I see. I will seriously consider your opinion."
The familiar chocolate milk with a cute cow pattern printed on it has quietly reappeared on the shelves in the convenience store.
What’s even more amazing is that every morning, when I step into the quiet H class classroom and walk towards my seat, I can always find a well-packaged bottle of chocolate milk with the coolness of the morning in the drawer of that simple desk.
There was no message, no signature, it just lay there quietly, like an unspoken secret.
Picking up the bottle of ice-cold milk, I felt the familiar touch on my fingertips, and the corners of my mouth unconsciously curved into a very shallow arc.
Um……
You can probably guess who it is.
This clumsy, yet incredibly persistent gesture of "kindness" has become a small ritual that begins every peaceful day. I no longer refuse, but frankly accept this silent "truce."
My application to join the photography club went incredibly smoothly this time.
Less than half a day after submitting my application, I received the bright red Student Union stamp. Their efficiency was so high that even the photography club president was amazed. I successfully became a member of the photography club, immersed in the world of light, shadow, and composition, and found a new kind of peace.
Not long after, an important club task fell on me, the newcomer with the best portrait photography skills.
We filmed individual promotional videos for the regular players of the tennis club who are about to compete in the Kanto Tournament for use in support and publicity.
Looking at the task list handed over by the president of the photography club, the words "main player of the tennis club" were particularly eye-catching.
There was no surprise, no resistance, but instead a photographer's excitement at capturing a unique moment. This was a challenge, and a whole new perspective to observe those at the center of the storm.
"Okay, President." I agreed, my voice carrying the composure of a professional photographer. "Leave it to me."
The first step of the task is naturally to understand the "models".
He pulled out his notebook, flipped to a blank page, and tapped the paper lightly with a pen between his fingers. His gaze drifted out the window to the tennis court gleaming metallically in the sunlight. A hint of professional contemplation curved the corners of his mouth.
"first……"
"I need to get a list of the tennis club's regulars first."
"Name, grade, class, position and playing style..."
"Oh, right," he added to his notebook, as if remembering something, "and... personality traits? After all, a good portrait should capture the soul."
Standing in the corner outside the tennis court, I felt like an audience member who had accidentally walked into a frenzied concert.
Before him was a sea of girls from the fan club, waving homemade cheering gear and letting out deafening screams. The sound waves were almost tangible, assaulting his eardrums, and even the ground beneath his feet seemed to vibrate slightly.
...Isn't this too exaggerated?
I couldn't help but complain in my heart, and silently put the notebook back into my arms, as if this could resist some sonic attacks.
I finally found a gap at the edge of the wire mesh where I could barely stand and my vision was not completely blocked. I took a deep breath, tried to block out the noise around me, and cast my eyes on the green field in the stadium that was bathed in spotlights.
On the court, the regular players of Hyotei Tennis Club are sweating profusely.
Hiyoshi Waka's sharp eyes and swift movements, Hou Chotaro's tall figure and precise serves, Shishido Ryo's quick volleys and never-give-up eyes...
I quickly got into work mode, observing calmly, and quickly writing in my notebook:
Hiyoshiwaka: The underdog overthrows the superior. His eyes are as sharp as a hawk's, his movements are explosive, and his steps are swift. Capture the momentary burst of power and the close-up of his eyes.
Hou Chotaro: He has a significant height advantage, and his serve is powerful and relaxed, making him a powerhouse. Key points to capture: His full-body tension at the moment of serving, and the gentle contrast he occasionally reveals.
Shishido Ryo: Speed. His never-give-up look is his soul. He handles short balls with agility. Key points: Motion blur and close-ups of his eyes during saves.
I immersed myself in observation and recording, trying to capture each person's unique "soul moment" through fierce confrontation.
However, just as I was focusing on depicting Shishido Ryo's beautiful net volley—
“Aa ...
“Atobe SAMA——!!!”
"Atobe! Atobe! Atobe!"
A terrifying roar that was ten times louder than the previous one and almost overturned the stadium exploded without warning!
I was caught off guard and was so frightened that my whole body shuddered. The pen in my hand almost flew out. My heart beat wildly in my chest. I subconsciously covered my ears and looked at the source of the commotion with a frown.
really.
At the entrance of the stadium, the figure who always has a spotlight effect appeared.
Atobe Keigo was wearing Hyotei's official jacket, and his silver-gray hair shone with an almost dazzling light in the sunlight.
He walked into the stadium with an elegant posture, his chin slightly raised, and faced the thunderous screams and admiring gazes with a calm and composed expression, as if all this was a natural coronation ceremony.
He even raised his hand out of habit, and his slender fingertips gracefully stroked the teardrop mole under his eye, triggering another wave of even more frantic screams.
It's just as gorgeous as always...it's dizzying.
You silently complained in your mind, but your eyes were involuntarily drawn to him on the court.
After warming up, Keigo Atobe stepped into the center of the court.
The moment he picked up the racket and stood at the baseline, his entire aura suddenly changed. The elegance and composure just now were instantly replaced by an absolute, domineering imperial aura.
His eyes were as sharp as a sword drawn from its sheath, and every serve he made was carried with tremendous power and control precise to the millimeter.
He used gorgeous techniques effortlessly. His net-front interceptions were as graceful and deadly as dancing, and his backhand through-balls drew tricky arcs, drawing exclamations from the audience.
Watching him soar with confidence and in control of the situation on the court, watching every swing of his racket seem to carry the power and beauty to tear through the air, watching the fire burning in his eyes with an absolute desire for victory.
The pen tip paused below the name "Atobe Keigo".
The previous "liquidation", "charity", "you don't deserve it"... those unpleasant images seemed to be temporarily diluted by the pure power and charm of the movement in front of them.
I have to admit that I wrote a comment silently in my heart:
The so-called king of the court.
It really lives up to its name.
The technique, strength, control and aura are all impeccable.
He lowered his head and quickly added a note in his notebook:
Atobe Keigo: Absolutely commanding presence. A visual focal point. His movements are both powerful and gorgeous, and his eyes are incredibly penetrating (consider a close-up). Signature moves: finger snap? Teardrop? Leaping smash (absolutely gorgeous! A challenge to capture in motion).
Soul: The confidence to control everything, the absolute desire to win. Note: The use of light and shadow is key, highlighting his "imperial" qualities and the magnificence of his skills.
On the sidelines, Atobe Keigo had just finished a thrilling practice match.
He walked to the rest area, picked up his water cup, and took a few gulps. Sweat slid down his angular jawline and soaked his collar. The intense exercise made his breathing a little rapid, but his eyes were still bright and sharp.
Oshitari handed over the towel and adjusted his glasses. Behind the lenses, there was a subtle hint of mischief. He pointed towards a corner and said in a teasing tone:
"Hey, Atobe, look in the corner over there...is there a familiar figure? I think I see Kiriyama-san."
"Kiriyama?" Atobe Keigo paused in wiping his sweat, and subconsciously looked in the direction Inuzuka pointed.
Through the gaps between the layers of excitedly waving arms and cheering banners, in that relatively quiet corner, under the shadow of the barbed wire, he did see the familiar figure.
A figure with long black hair, a beautiful face, head slightly lowered, concentrating on writing something in a notebook.
How come she is here?
Doesn't she hate noise the most and is most disgusted by this kind of noisy and frenzied environment?
Atobe's fingers gripping the water cup tightened slightly, and the plastic cup made a slight sound as it could not bear the weight.
How long has she been here?
What did she see?
Did she...see his game just now?
This thought spread in his mind like wildfire, and the calmness in control of everything he had just experienced on the court disappeared, replaced by a strange tension and anticipation.
He even subconsciously tidied up the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead and straightened his back.
However, before he could think more, before he could sort out his thoughts, and before he could decide whether he should go over, he saw the figure in the corner, who seemed to have completed the observation task.
She closed her notebook neatly and put it in her bag. Then, completely unaware of the attention focused on her, she turned slightly to the side, and her figure was quickly completely submerged in the surging crowd beside her.
Empty.
She left.
Like a silent wind, it appears quietly and leaves quietly.
He looked at the empty corner, and the imperial aura he had on the court just now faded away, and there was an indescribable confusion and loss in his heart.
She is here.
She saw it.
She... left without saying anything.
What on earth was she thinking?
The desk lamp emits a soft glow at night. I am bent over the desk, my fingertips running across the open notebook.
It was densely packed with details observed on the tennis court that afternoon: Hiyoshi Waka's sharp eyes, the tense lines of Hou Chotaro's shoulders when he served, Shishido Ryo's flying hair when he saved the ball and his determination to never give up...
Of course, there is also an important section on the analysis of the gorgeous movements and key points of capturing light and shadow of a certain "king of the court".
Next to the notebook, the mobile phone screen suddenly lit up, and a familiar caller ID jumped into view - Atobe Keigo.
The fingertips holding the pen paused slightly, and the tip of his eyebrow raised slightly.
Um?
Today is neither Wednesday nor Friday, and it is not the regular "Bullying Reform Progress Report Day."
Call at this time.
A hint of doubt flashed through my mind, but I still put down my pen, picked up my phone, and pressed the answer button. The voice was as calm as ever:
"Hello? Atobe-san?"
There seemed to be a pause on the other end of the phone, and then came Atobe's signature gorgeous voice. The background sound was very quiet, as if in some private space:
"Ahem... Good evening, Kiriyama-san. Excuse me?"
His opening remarks were somewhat stiff and polite, and it was obvious that he was not used to this kind of "private" contact outside of official hours.
"No." I responded briefly, waiting for his next words.
There was a brief silence, and the other end of the phone seemed to hear him clearing his throat. Then, he finally got to the point. His tone was a bit deliberately casual, but he couldn't hide his concern:
"Well... at the tennis court this afternoon, Oshitari said he saw you." He paused, as if choosing his words, "Why... did you go there? I remember you don't like noisy environments."
It was for this reason.
I understood what was going on, and my fingertips unconsciously tapped the name "Atobe Keigo" in the notebook.
"Photography Club assignment." He explained concisely, his voice steady and professional. "The president has assigned me to take promotional photos for the tennis club's regular players for the Kanto Tournament."
"In the afternoon, I will observe the daily status and characteristics of the team members to facilitate the subsequent shooting ideas."
After a pause, he added, his tone a pure, objective assessment based on facts: "By the way, I watched an excellent game."
“…” The other end of the line fell into a longer silence. Even through the receiver, you could almost imagine the other person clutching the phone, holding their breath as they waited for the next word.
I didn't keep him waiting too long. I continued, my voice filled with the photographer's recognition of excellent material:
"Atobe-san's tennis skills are indeed impressive."
"The control, the technique, and that..." he searched for a more appropriate word, "...the aura on the court, they're all very strong."
"Kanto Tournament," I said, my tone tinged with businesslike encouragement, "Do your best."
“…”
There was a very light exhalation sound from the other end of the phone, like a sudden relaxation and something else.
When Atobe's voice sounded again, the deliberate casualness disappeared. Although he tried hard to suppress it, I could still hear the joy.
"Yeah. Of course." His flamboyant tone returned, but with less exaggeration and more calm confidence. "Hyotei's goal has always been to win the championship."
After a brief pause, he seemed to remember something, and the joy in his voice became more obvious: "So, you were...'collecting materials' this afternoon?" He used a photographic term.
"You could say that." He admitted frankly.
"Then..." His voice was filled with a subtle hint of anticipation. "How can I get the tennis club to cooperate with me regarding the promotional photo shoot?"
Finally waited for this topic.
Flipping through the notebook, looking at the list of requirements, I proposed:
"I need more detailed information on the tennis team's regulars." His tone was as natural as if he were discussing a work email. "Basic information like name, grade, class, position, and playing style would be best."
"Also," I added, with the rigor of a professional photographer, "if it would be convenient, could you provide a brief description of their personality traits?"
"Or maybe the little gestures you make during training or competition? These can be very helpful in capturing more vivid and personal portraits."
After a pause, his tone was purely work-related, "I'll study it further. Combining this afternoon's observations, the concept will become clearer."
Atobe Keigo on the other end of the phone responded without hesitation:
"Ah yes, I have all the information, and it's organized in great detail."
His voice was filled with a cheerfulness that sounded like "finally something useful is available." I could even imagine him standing up and walking towards his computer or filing cabinet. "I'll email it to you right now, so please check your mailbox."
“Okay, thank you.” Polite response.
"As I should." Atobe paused, as if he wanted to say something else, but in the end, he just ended with a distant yet gentle remark, "Well... I won't bother you anymore. The information will be sent soon."
"Well, bye." He replied.
"goodbye."
The call ended. The phone screen went dark, and the room returned to silence, with only the soft glow of the desk lamp casting a shadow over the desk and the open notebook.
He put down his phone and looked back at the notebook, his fingertips lingering on the page titled "Atobe Keigo".
The voice he had just spoken on the phone echoed in my mind.
From the initial tentativeness, to the joy after being recognized, to the frankness when talking about information and the subtle enthusiasm to help.
The efficiency is quite high.
Almost at the same time, the laptop on the table made a "ding" sound, indicating a new email.
When I opened the email, the sender was "Atobe Keigo".
The subject line of the email was concise and clear: "Detailed information of the regular players of the Hyotei Academy Tennis Club - for photography reference."
The attachment is a PDF document with naming conventions and clear format.
Click to open the document.
It not only lists in detail the basic information, position, playing style analysis, and major achievements of each starting player, but also adds a short, concise but accurate personality description and "shooting suggestions" after each person.
for example:
Yuushi Oshitari: Personality: Beneath his lazy exterior lies a sharp insight and a knack for strategy. Habitual Action: Pushing up his glasses, a slightly curved, calculating smile. Photo Tip: Highlight the contrast between his "Kansai Wolf" languid mystery and his suddenly sharp gaze, using the reflection from his glasses to create atmosphere.
Takehito Mukai: Personality: Lively and bouncy, his signature trick shot is a stunt shot. Moves: Somersaults, vibrant smile. Photo Tip: Capture his leaps in motion! Highlight his agile movements and bright smile.
Jiro Akutagawa: Personality: Sleepy, but possesses incredible explosiveness and focus on the court. Habit: Dozing off anywhere and at any time (outside of training), but sharp eyes upon opening. Photo Tip: Create a "Sleeping Lion" theme to capture the contrast between his explosive gaze upon awakening and his usual dazed state.
Atobe Keigo: Personality: Confident, perfectionist, in control, and a fan of flamboyance. Signature Moves: Teardrop, finger snap, jump smash. Photo Tips: Emphasize his "imperial" aura and flamboyant style, using lighting and shadow to enhance his presence. Try capturing close-ups of his signature moves (such as the smash and teardrop).
Note: Time coordination is high and adjustments can be made at any time.
The level of detail and professionalism of this information far exceeded my expectations.
Especially those precise character captures and highly constructive "shooting suggestions", which are like a thoughtful "model guide".
Looking at the document on the screen that was carefully organized and even marked with "high time coordination", I recalled his straightforward response on the phone and the last sentence "It's my duty".
Under the desk lamp, he narrowed his eyes slightly and tapped the table lightly with his fingertips.
It seems...
This "ordinary classmate" and student union president...
I was unexpectedly interested in this shooting mission.
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