On Wednesday, the sunlight twisted Yotsuya Station so intensely it almost looked like a mirage. It was the first swimming class at Watanabe Tetsu's private academy.
Back in elementary school at his hometown, the school had swimming classes, too. Back then, Watanabe Tetsu could swim, but it was all for fun—breaststroke, dog paddle, anything went.
The only teacher didn't actually teach, just sat there eating watermelon and cold drinks, keeping a half-eye on safety.
His real "fitness-style" swimming started after the Ochanomizu incident—not just swimming, but many aspects of his life changed from that point on.
Now, he could swim like an athlete.
Classes A and D were combined again, but boys and girls were entirely separated, able only to hear the girls' teasing screams and laughter faintly through the walls.
The boys changed into swimsuits and gathered at the poolside.
The sky was vividly blue, like an oil painting, but the sun burned their skin.
The PE teacher, whistle hanging from his neck, went over swimming precautions.
"I really want to get over there," Osamu Kunii muttered, gazing toward the "daughters' kingdom" across the wall.
"Just secretly put on a girl's swimsuit and sneak in," Watanabe Tetsu suggested.
"Ah, that makes sense!" Osamu Kunii clapped his fists together.
"But… where do we even get a 'school girl swimsuit'?" Keisuke Saito analyzed further.
"Hmm."
The topic ended there.
After the teacher finished, everyone showered in the designated area, first in the front, then the back, looking like a line of cars going through a car wash.
The air was thick with steam and the pungent smell of chlorine.
After warm-up exercises, everyone finally got into the pool.
Boys jumped in with barely a meter of space between them and the edge, and the PE teacher shouted at them to stop. This time, they actually obeyed.
"Lane 3! Watanabe's chosen swimmer is so fast!"
"Ah! Kunii won't fall behind—he's using triple Kaioken! He's overtaking! He's overtaking!"
"Oh! Look there! That's… Saito's quintuple Kaioken! So fast! Too fast!"
"What? Breaking news: Watanabe's about to use his ultimate move—swimming seriously!"
In reality, it was just three boys jokingly trying to compete, but the group's enthusiasm made it feel like the 99th Universe Martial Arts Tournament.
By the way, Watanabe Tetsu had no idea what triple or quintuple Kaioken even meant. "Swimming seriously" was just… swimming as hard as possible.
"Watanabe, how are you so good at everything?"
"First tennis, now swimming… if this keeps up, I'll never beat you at baseball either!"
"Swimming like a dolphin! Too fast!"
The boys teased him, half in awe. Some even suggested he could become a professional swimmer.
Watanabe Tetsu had no intention of doing so.
If he pursued everything he was good at, he'd probably die of exhaustion.
And for the sake of future curriculum compilers, it was better not to draw too much attention.
Scholar, Olympic swimming gold medalist, world-class oboist, world-class boxer—he was still young, and it was hard to imagine how many more titles he'd acquire.
That evening, in the Human Observation Club activity room, Rinn Kiyono entered carrying a record player with the Audio-Technica logo.
The world was silent, the outside dark, reflecting their faces clearly in the window.
No other lights were on in the school except for the wind ensemble three floors up.
Watanabe Tetsu felt a twinge of loneliness, thinking about moving to the big city alone, far from his hometown in Iwate.
To shake off the sudden gloom, he refocused on Rinn Kiyono fiddling with the record player, curious.
"Rinn, can I ask you something?"
"Hm?" Rinn carefully pulled a vinyl record from a square paper bag.
"Life originated in the ocean, but humans can't breathe underwater. Don't you find that strange?"
"No opinion," Rinn replied without looking up.
"Don't you wonder why humans didn't evolve like frogs, turtles, or sea snakes—amphibians? The ocean has more area and resources than land."
"You can choose to be a biologist and figure that out, rather than asking a girl your own age about frogs and snakes at night."
"I don't really want to be a biologist," Watanabe Tetsu said, dismissing the suggestion.
"You talk like you'd be great at it."
"If I weren't playing the oboe, I'd already be one!"
Rinn's expression darkened. "Watanabe, your delusions are worsening, and your self-awareness is off. You really should get treatment."
Before he could retort, Rinn placed the needle on the slowly spinning record.
The cheerful, lively music trickled out, light and nimble like a cat tiptoeing.
Trombones roared, French horns harmonized, clarinets accompanied, bass drums rumbled, and the oboe took the solo.
The sound flowed continuously, like the Yangtze River, then receded like a tide.
Watanabe Tetsu picked up the record sleeve and read the title:
"Four Seasons of Splendor: Wind Ensemble Version"
Composed by Hideaki Kawa, performed by Seika Girls' Academy Wind Ensemble
Rinn Kiyono leaned on the table with her left elbow, chin resting on her hand, pen in her right hand constantly taking notes.
Watanabe Tetsu silently listened, tapping invisible notes along with the sheet music.
The beautiful music, in the empty, lit classroom late at night, created a warm, intimate atmosphere.
"Should we pick this one?" Watanabe Tetsu asked after it ended.
"Mm." Rinn nodded.
In the wind ensemble competition, each band must perform one assigned piece and one free-choice piece. Four Seasons of Splendor was one of the free-choice options this year.
The piece was composed by first-line composer Hideaki Kawa, commissioned by the Wind Ensemble Federation.
Years ago, Seika Girls' Academy had chosen it as a free-choice piece and won the national gold prize, instantly gaining fame.
Now, it was a standard competition piece.
Its unique feature? The composer, a Musashino Conservatory graduate and professional oboist, had emphasized the oboe in the arrangement.
Exaggerating a bit, the piece's lower limit depended on the whole band, but the upper limit depended entirely on the oboist's performance.
"Wise choice," Watanabe Tetsu said confidently.
Rinn ignored his seemingly self-praising remark—it was really just Watanabe bragging.
"Are you sure it's okay to decide without consulting them?" he asked.
"To advance society, democratic voting is the stupidest choice."
"Ah… got it. Like Ultraman forcing humans to evolve, right?"
Rinn had no idea what he meant, glaring at him.
Watanabe Tetsu, unfazed, changed the subject. "So you just don't allow failure, and decided yourself?"
"That's not the only reason."
"Hm-hmm." Watanabe nodded noncommittally.
Rinn felt inexplicably angry at his attitude and wanted to punch him.
She explained:
"Their musical knowledge varies. Some choose based on their part's playability or the piece's fame. The competition's choice affects the survival of the Human Observation Club. Any choice that could lead to the club's collapse, I'll block."
"I see," Watanabe Tetsu still looked unconvinced.
Rinn took a deep breath, knowing he never lies.
"There's another reason. The ensemble's biggest advantage right now is your oboe. That's also why I chose the piece myself."
Given the ensemble's dislike of Watanabe Tetsu, they would probably never pick a piece relying on the oboe.
Watanabe leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, sighing contentedly.
Rinn bit back frustration, resisting the urge to throw an eraser at him.
At nine, Rinn finally announced her decision:
"The assigned piece is March to the Endless Dream, and the free-choice is Four Seasons of Splendor: Wind Ensemble Version."
"These two…" Misaki Komatsu, the club president, hesitated.
Members unfamiliar with the pieces looked confused.
"President, is it difficult?"
"Yes," she nodded. "March to the Endless Dream is story-rich and expressive. Four Seasons requires extremely high skill and performance, but—"
"But what?" everyone asked eagerly.
Komatsu looked at Rinn, hesitating.
Watanabe Tetsu jumped in: "From the middle, you can relax. At your current level, it perfectly highlights my skills. Just wait to collect your awards."
"What does that mean?" a member asked.
"The first piece has solo parts for tuba, trombone, and oboe. Four Seasons is special—much of it relies on oboe improvisation," Kaoru Hayami explained.
Everyone murmured, most looking dissatisfied.
Rinn glanced at them. "Choosing members or pieces is all about advancing to nationals. If anyone has better suggestions, speak now."
Hiromi Tamamo shouted, "If it's all based on the oboe, can't we just practice casually?"
Obvious anger.
"Solos add points; the real quality comes from the whole group," Rinn replied.
Another asked, "Why must it be an oboe solo? Why not bassoon or trumpet?"
Asuka Mai's skill was good, but the tuba wasn't as impressive, so no one suggested it.
"You should know why," Watanabe Tetsu said.
"What?"
"Because my oboe skill is undeniably the best in the ensemble."
His tone, matter-of-fact, made many flush in anger.
"Not sure if historical best, but currently, he's the ensemble's top player," Rinn noted.
"I refuse! Hayami-senpai and Mai-senpai are stronger!"
"Totally unfair! If A-group members were selected, solos should be too!"
"Fine!"
Before Rinn could intervene, Watanabe stood, oboe in hand, on the podium.
"Come at me if you dare. Today, I'll show you how a genius differs from mere mortals."
Finally, he could be the protagonist he wanted to be—no more life obsessed with girls' underwear or socks.
He wanted effort, struggle, passion, and to be number one.
Under the glaring classroom lights, Watanabe Tetsu looked at everyone with anticipation.
Faces flushed, eyes on Asuka Mai.
Mai's normally expressionless face flushed lightly, staring at him.
Why didn't she step up? Oh, right—she didn't care as long as she could play.
Eyes shifted to Kaoru Hayami.
Hayami smiled gently and reluctantly came forward with her bassoon, nodding to Rinn.
"Watanabe-san, let me see your skills properly."
Seeing Hayami's kind smile, Watanabe lost some fight; she'd been pushed forward by everyone.
He needed a rival who underestimated him, someone scheming, to drive the club forward.
"Then you go first, Hayami-senpai," Watanabe said, sparing her pressure.
"Thank you."
Hayami's detailed, gentle bassoon filled the room flawlessly—high notes, tricky passages, everything perfect.
The tone sparkled, hearts fluttered. Everyone closed their eyes, absorbed.
Her skill had improved tremendously; Watanabe heard the effort behind every note.
Applause erupted after she finished.
Hayami nodded, satisfied.
"Watanabe-san, your turn."
"All right."
Smooth melodies flowed seamlessly, each note lingering warmly.
When he finished, silence fell—only Asuka Mai clapped faintly, seemingly indifferent.
Everyone else, embarrassed, followed suit.
Miki Yuuki had returned, and Watanabe thought, Senpai, I might die here.
Rinn asked, "Hayami-senpai, I've decided to let Watanabe-san solo. Your thoughts?"
"No objection. He plays better than me and is part of the ensemble. No problem."
Rinn nodded to everyone: "Pick up the music files, listen daily, memorize the score, and avoid comments like 'What's the point of everyone else besides the oboe?'"
"Yes!"
At 11:30, on the way back:
"Seems Mai-senpai is angry," Rinn said.
"Really?" Watanabe Tetsu asked, puzzled.
"First time seeing her show emotion. You're too arrogant."
"It's all for you," he replied.
"Lies," Rinn shot back. "Do you want to talk to her alone? Her personality will keep it secret."
"No." Watanabe Tetsu refused immediately.
Alone? He'd been hoping for no chance of being caught alone with her.
"Why?" Rinn asked as usual.
"People uninterested in cards, I can't chat with."