Mitsui Jiro studied Haizaki Shogo carefully. Judging by Shogo's wary gaze, he seemed to think this young man didn't trust him at all, suspecting he was just bluffing.
"So… tell me, what's 'not so simple' about you?"
Shogo ignored the middle-aged man's self-introduction and threw a question back instead.
A faint smile tugged at Mitsui Jiro's lips. Talk about his expertise and his insight, and his confidence became unshakable.
And so, Mitsui Jiro began to explain, matter-of-factly.
"Based on how you punch and practice spear techniques, your flexibility and agility are probably approaching the human limit."
"The human limit?"
"Yes. Your range of motion and the elasticity of tissues around your joints are excellent. With this foundation, your ability to master athletic techniques, anticipate and prevent injuries, maintain muscle elasticity and explosiveness, and preserve posture—all of these are closely linked."
Well… that was a lot of theory to process. Shogo felt completely overwhelmed.
Seeing Shogo's confused expression, Mitsui Jiro's smile softened. He retrieved a business card from his small bag and handed it over.
Shogo accepted it mechanically. His eyes widened in shock. Mitsui Jiro was a PhD supervisor in orthopedics at Tokyo Medical University Hospital.
For a middle-aged man, that was unusually young for such a prestigious position. If the card was genuine, Shogo realized he had just met a true expert.
Noticing Shogo's reaction, Mitsui Jiro's own expression brightened—a tiny, smug "Am I impressive?" look.
Shogo and Mitsui chatted for over an hour. Shogo cared a lot about protecting his bones and maintaining his body. He couldn't afford an injury that would leave him bedridden in the future.
By the time they finished talking, it was nearly 10 p.m. The basketball court had emptied considerably.
After bidding farewell, Shogo returned to his villa with his dog in tow.
From the conversation, Shogo had gained a clearer understanding of Mitsui Jiro's personality: a man who had been "bottling up" words and finally found someone to talk to. Given his status at the hospital, there were few who could speak casually with him; most doctors and nurses bowed in his presence.
Also, Shogo sensed a hint of mild obsession in Mitsui Jiro—a trait perhaps behind his superb medical skills, insight, and judgment.
Back home, Shogo put the business card away—he might need it someday.
Then, letting himself relax, he changed into swim trunks and went to the pool in the yard.
Splash!
He plunged into the water, pushing his stamina to the limit, doing laps of butterfly stroke with unbridled joy.
The morning's conversation with Mitsui Jiro reinforced the importance of swimming—enhancing coordination, lung capacity, and sculpting his physique.
Drained of all remaining energy, Shogo showered quickly and collapsed into bed, falling into a deep sleep.
The next morning, after breakfast, he grabbed a basketball and left the villa.
It was the day of the Cultural Festival. The classroom was mostly empty, as students were busy preparing their activities.
Shogo, as usual, cared little for such matters—focused solely on basketball.
Sitting at his desk, he noticed the playground below gradually coming alive.
The large field had been divided into sections: the center transformed into a grand stage, the left side a vast art exhibition, and the right a bustling food street, teeming with students.
Other areas hosted games like archery, fishing, chess, and riddles.
The festival's lively atmosphere enchanted Shogo completely.
While immersed in the festive scene, a girl in a traditional kimono appeared before him. Her voice was gentle and flowing, soft and melodic.
"Shogo-kun, let's go try some of the food our classmates made."
Shogo looked at Shimizu Rena in her pale blue kimono, her hair tied high, her cheeks lightly flushed, and a pair of new wooden clogs on her feet.
Standing there, perfectly poised, she was neither too close nor too far—just the right distance.
How could Shogo resist such a beautiful sight?
"Good idea! I'm already drooling just looking at it!"
Shogo rose, and they stepped off the school building, now walking side by side.
Because of the kimono, Rena could only lightly rest her small hand on his clothing. Shogo slowed his pace, and together they visited every food stall.
Their tour lasted at least two hours. When it was almost time, Rena bid him farewell—she had to perform her piano solo.
From a distance, Shogo watched the central stage. The girl, simple and elegant, placed her delicate hands on the piano keys. Her music carried the essence of endless childhood memories.
He recognized the piece—it was one of his mother's favorite bedtime songs. The melody overflowed with nostalgia and longing.
The music was soothing, easing Shogo's mind and body.
When the last note faded, a slightly awkward new tune appeared, snapping Shogo's attention open.
Had she composed it overnight after hearing him hum the folk song yesterday?
Shogo was stunned, then moved, then utterly awestruck.
The girl he knew, Rena, wasn't just talented—she possessed extraordinary musical genius.
Listening to the familiar melody, watching her elegant, meticulous figure on stage, Shogo's mind raced.
Should he go? Or not? Go or not?
Until a voice inside told him: If you don't go now, it'll be too late!
He grabbed a balloon nearby and approached the flower bed. Among the flowers placed by classmates that morning, a single red rose bloomed brilliantly.
A large hand reached out and plucked the rose.
Boom!
A tall figure in a gray school uniform leaped onto the stage, holding the balloon and the radiant rose, and presented them to the girl.
Amid the whistles and cheers of envious classmates, he lifted the girl and spun her around once.
Shogo had wanted to kiss Rena, but with everyone watching, he held back. The moment… was not the time to show off!
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