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Chapter 66 Part 1

Cheering for the Tournament (2) ~CRAZY GONNA CRAZY~

I am Kuroda Noriko, a third-year student at private Saitama Eiko High School and a member of the kendo club.

Not to brag but in terms of skill, I think I am among the top five in the kendo club, which has nearly 100 members.

In fact, I have been chosen as a regular member since the summer of my second year, and have participated in both team (although B team) and individual competitions.

However, except for the captain, who boasts outstanding strength and is among the top players even in the entire country, the regular members are very close in terms of ability.

I myself can be said to be one of the top players in Saitama Prefecture, but in the Kanto Tournament that I participated for the first time in the fall, I ended with a disappointing result, in which I lost in the first round.

In that sense, the first prefectural tournament as a third-year in the spring is very important.

If my result failed to meet expectations here, I might end up having my regular spot taken by a third-year, or even a second-year reserve player.

That shows just how fierce the competition is.

Since this time Captain is participating in the team competition as our absolute trump card, the three representatives, including myself, are given a supreme order by the club advisor to monopolize the top three places in the individual competition.

Appointed as the second seed, I thought that the only obstacle in my block would be the third seed player from Shuutoku, whom I would face in the semifinals if everything went as it should be.

To my surprise, however, the Shuutoku player is defeated in the quarterfinals, and the player who advances instead is a player from Sairyou, whom I have not marked.

Come to think of it, I remember playing her once last fall, but at that time, it was my victory.

In terms of skills, she should be inferior to the Shuutoku player I have expected, and there is no way I will lose to an opponent I have beaten before.

The me from before the match was overflowing with confidence.

However, believe it or not, the opponent standing in front of me, her name is Hayase, is being cheered on by boys!

Moreover, one of them is calling her by her given name, 「Mika」.

When I look at the cheering seats, I see a number of boys, who are so good-looking that I cannot help but get captivated by them, are cheering zealously for player Hayase….

I see, Sairyou is a co-ed school. And then, my opponent has a boy she is close with, maybe her boyfriend…?

I can tell that my head is boiling like an instantaneous water heater.

Infuriating. Infuriating. Infuriating. Infuriating. So infuriating!

When I look closely at my opponent with eyes filled with envy and hatred, I notice that beneath her mask, she has a beautiful face that is surely very attractive to men.

I started going to the dojo when I was 5 years old, and until now, at the age of 17, I have been single-mindedly practicing kendo. Leading a life in which I spend hours of my youth in the dojo smelling of women’s sweat.

I don’t know if it was because they mistook me for a man or simply out of frustration, but it is not just once or twice that I have my body touched or hugged by women.

However, I rarely even see a man in real life.

「Drop dead.」

Muttering so to myself, along with the cue of the beginning of the match, I let out a cry of rage and charge at my opponent.

◇ ◇ ◇

My opponent turns out to be more formidable than I had expected.

No matter how many times I attack her, I cannot get a single point, and the more irritated I get, the more I feel like I am being led around by the nose by my opponent.

Given that she lost to me before, has she studied me?

However, when three minutes pass, my opponent receives a warning from the referee.

Continue like this and win by referee’s decision?

I can never accept such a thing.

I am definitely going to strike her head down from the top of her beautiful face and get a point.

I am determined to do so, but my opponent keeps using her footwork to keep her distance and persistently aims for my wrist.

After going out-of-bounds, we get ready to resume the match. There is little time left.

Using this last chance, I am going to push her like crazy and make sure to land a Men.

Thinking back, maybe I have fallen into narrow-mindedness.

Even though the club advisor and the coach have always told me that I am prone to losing my temper and failing to make calm decisions in critical moments.

I unconsciously raise both of my arms, but unlike how it has been thus far, my opponent suddenly rushes toward me, and I am too slow to react to it.

By the time I realize that she is launching a Dou at me, it is already too late.

「Dou!」

When I hear the referee’s voice, I cannot accept that this is real.

I don’t remember exactly what happened after that.

The match is over before I know it, and the reason why I bow as I get urged by the referee is probably because it is a gesture that has been ingrained in my body.

As I make my way to the wall where the members of the club are, I can tell that everyone is looking at me with contempt and pity.

Prefectural best four is a vague line that will put my spot in the regular team into question.

The members of the club who are on the line to become regulars probably think that their chances may have come around.

They are saying 「That was close」 and 「Don’t worry about it」, but it sounds to me like 「Regardless of the details, a loss is a loss」 and 「What a poor play against an unseeded player」.

Throwing my shinai and turning my face and body away from them, I cannot help but run away from that place.

Passing through the passageway, I punch the bulletin board and kick a nearby trash can to clear away the gloominess I am feeling, but on the contrary, the feeling of disgust and regret wash over me, and I end up hating myself more and more.

I keep walking to a place where there are no people single-mindedly, and before I know it, I find myself in a toilet stall, so I sit down and shed tears.

Ah, I haven’t changed since the old days, so I think.

I believe in the sixth grade, too, I was so shocked by my upset loss in the finals of a tournament where my win was believed to be a foregone conclusion that I skipped the awards ceremony and cried in the bathroom.

It is not just once or twice that I fail to achieve victory in a decisive match, such as the final or semifinal of a big tournament.

As an athlete, maybe I am lacking in the mentality department.

As I am weeping and laughing at myself, a doubt suddenly occurs to me.

This is not the men’s restroom, right?

I went straight into the private stall, but when I stepped into the restroom, I felt that something was not quite right.

Moreover, I cannot find a sanitary waste receptacle, which should be there if this is the women’s restroom.

Suddenly coming to my senses, I examine my surrounding area.

Maybe because I had walked for a long time without paying attention to my surroundings, just staring at the floor, I think I entered a restroom far away from the main hall.

With no sound of people’s voices or walking at all, it is eerily quiet.

No one seems to be here right now.

Even so, afraid to make any noise, I try to unlock the door quietly.

What comes into view is an oblong, white toilet bowl. That thing is….

I close the door again with shaking hands.

An unpleasant sweat is running down my back.

I open the door again and look over there.

It wasn’t a hallucination.

I have seen it on TV or something. Those things are something that only exist in men’s restrooms.

That means….

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!

I cover my face with both hands, close my eyes, and then open them again.

I ended up going into the men’s restroom by mistake!

If someone were to see me in a place like this….

I remember that sometimes on the news, when women who shut themselves in the men’s restroom to peep or rape men (mostly ended as a failed attempt) are caught, they will have their real name reported, even if they are underage.

Police. Sex offenders. Quitting the club. Expulsion.

Those words are popping into my head.

I have to get out of here before someone comes!

I immediately come to that conclusion.

And yet, I cannot rise to my feet. Why…?

An image that I can only perceive as the devil’s temptation flashes through my mind.

There, a boy is exposing his entire lower half of his body, letting his skin touch directly against the toilet seat on which I am sitting!

The heck am I doing? Not good. I have to get out of here quickly!

Since a while ago, the voice of reason has been ringing in my head, urging me to get out.

And yet, I am impatiently undoing the strings tied on my kendo gi and taking off the maedare and hakama that are in the way.