Chapter 3: A Wavering Heart in the Wind — The Beginning of the Sea Called Junior High
When I entered junior high school, I was placed in Class 1-8.
I was 135 centimeters tall. I was the shortest in the class.
That alone was enough to make me a bit of a target.
People would laugh, saying things like, "Are you still in elementary school?" and while I laughed along, I was crying deep inside.
My personality was quiet, but my heart was always restless.
I wanted to know worlds I had never seen and do things I had never done. That curiosity, at least, was much bigger than my height.
The first-year midterm exams.
I ranked 210th out of 330 students.
I thought it wasn't bad, but when I got home, my mother was waiting with a demonic look on her face.
"Why is it this bad! You could do it if you tried!"
I was yelled at and hit.
Over and over.
Even when tears came, they wouldn't stop.
My father hit me too.
My teachers hit me too.
And my classmates hit and kicked me as well.
There is no reason for those who hit.
I think they just wanted someone they were allowed to hit.
At the time, delinquent manga were popular.
Things like "Be-Bop High School" or "Rokudenashi Blues."
But the real delinquents weren't cool like in the manga.
The more half-baked they were, the more they only picked on people who looked weak.
I was that "person who looked weak."
Even when I was hit or kicked, I would laugh it off.
I felt frustrated.
I was incredibly frustrated.
But I couldn't cry, because if I did, I would just be bullied more.
Even for someone like me, there was a place to belong.
The club. The soft tennis club.
At first, more than 15 classmates joined. But most of them quit along the way.
The practice was tough, and the summer was hellishly hot.
In my first year, I only picked up balls.
"Hey Okada, pick up the balls, hurry up!"
I would chase after balls endlessly while being yelled at by the upperclassmen.
In my second year, I was finally allowed to hit.
I was a front-court player.
Honestly, I was bad.
I didn't have much motivation either.
"There's no way we can win anyway."
That's what I thought.
But by the time I thought about quitting, it was already too late.
The number of members had dropped so much that I was told if I quit, they wouldn't be able to enter the team competition.
I had no choice but to continue.
Honestly, my heart was no longer in it.
Moreover, my personality didn't match my partner's at all.
He was a show-off and had incredible athletic ability. He was good at schoolwork, too.
He was the complete opposite of me.
We barely spoke during practice or matches.
And yet—at the Takamatsu City rookie tournament, out of over 150 teams, we unexpectedly won the individual championship.
I was surprised.
No, honestly, I was a little happy.
But it wasn't because I was good.
It was just because he was good. I swung and missed a lot, and I was weak under pressure.
We were the top seed at the prefectural tournament.
My hands shook with nerves.
The moment I went to serve, my racket slipped from my sweat.
As a result, I swung and missed repeatedly.
We lost immediately.
After the match, my partner scolded me.
I could only say, "I'm sorry."
But after that match, strangely, my heart felt a little clearer.
It was because, in that moment, I had the realization that I had "given it my all."
Even if I lost, the fact that I had stood properly on that court.
That was my only salvation.
My grades gradually improved.
By my third year, I had risen to about 100th out of 330.
But my mother's "You can do it if you try, so work harder" continued.
In my first year of junior high, I was on the physical education committee.
At the sports festival, I walked carrying the flag.
Watching the flag fluttering in the wind, I thought, "I wonder if I can become a person as straight as that flag someday."
I was thinking something a bit pretentious.
There was also a chorus competition.
I was tone-deaf.
The piano accompaniment was played by Kana-san, who was in the same class.
The movement of her fingertips was unbelievably beautiful.
Kana-san—she was my first love. She was bright, the center of the class, and popular with both boys and girls.
I couldn't even bring myself to talk to someone like her.
After school, I called Kana-san's house with a friend.
Of course, it was a landline.
My hand holding the receiver was shaking.
"Hello, this is Kana."
Just hearing her voice made my mind go blank.
In the end, I couldn't say anything.
After a long silence, she said,
"If you say you're embarrassed, then I'm the one who's embarrassed."
And then the call ended.
—That one sentence pierced my heart.
I wanted to crawl into a hole.
But, somewhere, I was happy.
Because I had properly "exchanged words" with her.
After entering high school, I had my picture taken with her once.
In that moment, my first love quietly ended.
But that smile still remains in my mind.
During my adolescence, there were two people who strongly influenced me.
Hiroto Komoto and Beat Takeshi.
When I listened to Hiroto Komoto's songs, I felt like my own "helplessness" was being affirmed.
When I listened to Beat Takeshi's stories, I felt like it was "okay to be clumsy."
Even now, the two of them are my emotional support.
I went to their concerts and read many of their books. The loneliness and anger I carried during my junior high days were gradually dissolved by their voices.
Being hit, laughed at, crying, falling in love, running away,
Even so, I went to school the next day.
That was my junior high school life.
To be continuedhttps://note.com/mitsuhiro_swim/n/n2c768e5f9aab?sub_rt=share_b