Chapter 72: Among equals.
"So that's what happened..."
"I see. So Tokusake wanted to be friends with you, and you thought he might have ulterior motives, so you rejected him... I suppose no one here is to be blamed."
Both Tarazune Akeshi and Mikage nodded as they processed what I said, taking in the situation from both my point of view and Tokusake's. It seemed they were genuinely understanding, without placing blame on either side.
"So shake hands. Since we've introduced ourselves, let's restart things between you two." Mikage suggested, and Akeshi subtly signaled Tokusake. With a hesitant smile, Tokusake offered me his hand. I hesitated for a moment but then accepted it. Our hands met in a firm, if slightly awkward, handshake.
"Do you play basketball as well?" Tokusake's question took me by surprise. The others glanced at him, and I noticed Akeshi observing my hand with interest.
"Yes, I do... so what?" I asked, releasing his hand.
"Well, your hand is quite tough, especially the fingertips. The skin feels like it's been stretched and worn many times over."
I looked at him, puzzled, as he continued. "You're also self-teaching street fighting, aren't you? The bones in your fingers suggest they've been through a lot, especially your knuckles. If you were to fight any ordinary street thug, I'm sure you'd come out on top, but you still need more experience. Maybe try sparring with someone who's also into street fighting."
Both Tokusake and Akeshi spoke with a matter-of-fact tone, and I found myself feeling both impressed and unnerved. How could they tell so much just by shaking my hand?
"Oh, by the way, since we're not strangers anymore, how about using first names? Honorifics only if you feel like it," Mikage suggested, glancing around the group.
After a moment of consideration, everyone agreed except Akeshi. "So, except for Tarazune-san, we'll all use first names to address each other. Sound good?" Mikage confirmed, and everyone nodded.
A sigh echoed in the room, drawing our attention to Akeshi, who smiled warmly at us. "Ren, Chen, Yuuki, Namak..." He paused, looking at each of us. "Rentaro, Myushi, Keitaro, Okabe, and Mikage."
Hearing him say our names like that made something in my chest tighten, a mixture of relief and joy. Afterward, we all took turns addressing each other by first names, trying to get used to it. Rentaro and I found it especially difficult, given how reserved we both were. When it came to addressing Akeshi, I hesitated, admitting that I was used to referring to him more formally.
He laughed, waving off my concern. "Keitaro, you're being too formal. You're giving me too much respect. I don't deserve it." But he didn't know how much he meant to me—Tarazune Akeshi, the person who had such a powerful influence on my life.
As a child, I was always filled with questions that seemed beyond my years. Questions like, "Does a real genius actually exist?" or "What does it mean to truly understand something?" These thoughts consumed me, but I never found any satisfying answers. That was until I met him—Tarazune Akeshi.
Back then, Akeshi was a private tutor, well-known among the adults in our neighborhood. They spoke of him with a mix of admiration and awe, a young man who was teaching children his own age or even older. It was unheard of, but there he was, calmly explaining complex subjects with such clarity that even a donkey, if it could listen, would understand.
I was captivated by him. I remember sneaking into his lessons, sitting at the back, trying to absorb everything he said. His teaching style was nothing short of miraculous. It wasn't just about the content; it was how he presented it, making even the most complicated topics seem simple. I idolized him. I wanted to be like him.
One day, I mustered up the courage to ask him why he was doing this—teaching kids his own age when he could be doing anything else. His answer was as profound as it was simple. "I don't want to rely on anyone else's money, even if it's coming from my guardians," he said. His words struck a chord with me, showing a level of independence and responsibility that I couldn't help but admire.
But despite my efforts to emulate him, the gap between us only grew wider. The day I heard that he had taken first place in the J.N.H.S.E. was the day I realized how extraordinary he truly was.
The J.N.H.S.E.—the Japanese National High School Exam—was a grueling test, usually dominated by kids from wealthy families who had access to elite education. But Akeshi, someone with no significant background, had come out of nowhere to take the top spot. It was a story that inspired countless others like me, kids who didn't come from privilege but wanted to prove that they could achieve greatness through sheer effort.
After hearing about Akeshi's achievement, something in me snapped. I was just an average student, coasting through school without much care, but that news lit a fire in me. I started to push myself, studying harder than I ever had before. I wanted to be the best, to secure the top position like Akeshi.
Because if you don't have high goals, you'll never achieve high results. Unless, of course, you're a genius—someone like my friend, Miyushi, who can memorize anything after just one look or hearing it once.
As these thoughts swirled in my head, I realized how much of an impact Akeshi had on me. He was the reason I strove to improve myself, to reach heights I hadn't even considered before. And now, here I was, standing beside him, shaking hands with people who would become my friends—people who, like me, were drawn into Akeshi's orbit.
"You're quiet today, Miyushi," Yuuki said, breaking me out of my reverie. His grin was wide, his tone teasing. "Usually, you're the one dishing out wisdom. What's on your mind?"
I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. "Just thinking about how far we've come."
"Ah, the deep thoughts of Myushi," Yuuki chuckled, nudging Namakemono, who was barely keeping his eyes open. "You should write a book or something."
Namakemono mumbled something incoherent, his eyelids drooping. "Too much work..." he muttered, earning a laugh from the group.
Mikage, the ever-calm leader, smiled softly at us. "It's good to reflect sometimes, especially when you realize the journey you've taken."
"Yeah, but let's not get too sentimental," Okabe chimed in, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his usual energy. "We're all here now, and that's what matters."
Rentaro, who had been quiet the entire time, simply nodded in agreement. His presence was always reassuring, even though he spoke so little. It was like having a steady anchor, someone you knew you could rely on without needing constant words of affirmation.
As the conversation continued, I found myself looking around at these people—my new friends. Each of them had their quirks, their own unique personalities that somehow fit together perfectly like pieces of a puzzle. We were a strange mix, but we balanced each other out in ways that I hadn't fully appreciated until now.
Yuuki's humor lightened the mood when things got too serious. Namakemono's laziness, though frustrating at times, reminded us to slow down and not take everything too seriously. Mikage's calm leadership kept us grounded, while Okabe's boundless energy pushed us to keep moving forward. Rentaro's quiet strength was a silent reminder that sometimes, actions spoke louder than words.
And then there was Akeshi, the one who had brought us all together. His influence on us was undeniable, whether we admitted it or not. He had a way of making you want to be better, to strive for more. And it wasn't just his achievements that inspired us; it was his attitude, his calm determination, and his quiet confidence.
As we wrapped up our introductions and settled into a more comfortable rhythm, I realized something important. We weren't just a group of friends thrown together by circumstance. We were a team, bound by shared experiences and a common goal. And with Akeshi leading the way, I knew we could achieve anything.
"So, what's next?" Yuuki asked, leaning back with a grin. "Now that we're all buddy-buddy, what's the plan?"
Mikage exchanged a glance with Akeshi, who gave a small nod. "We'll figure it out together," Mikage said, his tone firm yet reassuring. "But for now, let's just enjoy the moment."
And so we did. We laughed, joked, and talked about everything and nothing. In that moment, surrounded by these people who had become so important to me, I felt a sense of belonging that I hadn't realized I was missing.
It was about me finally being with people—new ones, people my age, with whom I could actually have a conversation.
I wasn't used to this, not really.
Before, it was always just me, navigating the world on my own, keeping to myself, lost in my thoughts.
But now, here I was, surrounded by others who seemed to understand, or at least who tried to.
It was a strange feeling, realizing that I could share parts of myself with them, parts I'd kept hidden away for so long.
And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I had needed this, how much I had craved this kind of connection without even knowing it.
It wasn't just about being around people; it was about being seen, being heard, and, most importantly, feeling like I belonged.