September. I was walking back to the classroom from the gym where the opening ceremony had been held, and I found myself in a crowd. It was one of the few opportunities I had to talk to regular students.

When he found the girl he was looking for, he tapped her on the shoulder without hesitation. The girl turned around with a puzzled look on her face, but as soon as she turned around, her eyes lit up. She wasn't particularly attractive, but she had a large bust. He forced the piece of paper into her hand, whispered in her ear, "Call me later," and returned to the crowd.

That night, after practice, I got a call on my cell phone. I answered the phone in my three-tatami private room, and just as I expected, it was a female student handing me a piece of paper with her number written on it. Her voice was trembling with nervousness. After a little chat, we made an arrangement to meet on Sunday afternoon. When I checked her schedule, the female student replied, "I'm free," with a vengeance.

In the end, it was on our third date that I ended up having sex with her. After watching a movie, we went to a karaoke booth to do it. It was the first time I had ever touched a woman's body, and it was unbelievably smooth. Even while I was paying the karaoke fee, the girl kept clinging to my arm. I honestly thought it was so easy.

He continued his relationship with the girl after that. He devoured her body in the park, in the bathroom of a large supermarket, and in the changing room of a clothing store. She never refused, no matter where or when. Taking advantage of this, he was able to call the girl at a convenient time and release his sexual desires.

Three months later, he made a move on another classmate. As before, he gave her a piece of paper with his cell phone number written on it and had her call him. This time, he did it in her room on the second floor of her house. Her mother was downstairs, but it didn't matter. Within six months, he'd grown tired of her and moved on to an older student. Everyone was surprised at how easily he opened up to her.

While I was open about my sex life, the other members of the kendo club recognized me as an honor student. Watching my classmates fight over a porn magazine, I began to feel a sense of superiority. While the other members were ogling girls in gravure models, I was devouring a real woman. I truly believed that I was the chosen one.

By the time I was in my second year of high school, I was getting tired of the older girls. I thought about making a move on a junior who had just enrolled, but I was reaching my limit when it came to finding a partner on campus. When the girls in the regular classes saw me, they frowned or ran away to hide. I could tell right away that bad rumors were spreading. It would only be a matter of time before the club members found out, but I didn't really care. If I was good at kendo, no one could complain.

Suddenly, I thought of something and opened a drawer in my dorm room. Among my point cards and bankbook, I found a business card. It said Minae Wada, and on the back of it was her cell phone number. I hoped she hadn't changed it. I called, and Wada answered immediately.

"hello"

"Are you Wada-san? I'm Fujinami Kota from the Joyo High School Kendo Club. I interviewed you previously and you were very helpful."

"Yeah. Thank you for that time."

I felt like Wada's voice had become even higher pitched.

"Where do you live now, Wada-san?"

"To Fukuoka"

"Actually, I'd really like to meet you again, Wada-san."

"That's also... why?"

"Why?"

Then he stopped talking deliberately.

"Ever since we met, I haven't been able to get Wada-san out of my head."

The thought that it might not work out made him say the embarrassing line. Wada was silent for a while on the other end of the phone, but eventually answered, "Sure."

"When would be good?"

Wada had already stopped using honorific language.

"Sunday afternoon would be good. The dorm curfew is 8 o'clock, so let's meet up together until then."

"Well, how about meeting at Hakata Station at 1 o'clock?"

On the day, after eating Korean food with Wada, he forced his way to the hotel district. Wada seemed surprised, but did not refuse.

I didn't know her exact age, but from our conversation over dinner I figured she was around 25 or 26. Unlike the high school girls I'd met up until then, she was a woman who was confident enough to take advantage of my youth and manipulate me. As I sank my exhausted body into bed, Wada lay naked and sharpened her nails.

"This isn't your first time, right?"

With that, Wada burst out laughing.

"Well, it's not the first time."

"That's not true."

You're misunderstanding the meaning of "for the first time."

"This isn't the first time you've done something like this with someone you're interviewing, right?"

Wada, still sharpening his nails, said, "Yeah, I guess so," and glanced down at my stomach.

"Amazing abs. They look like turtle shells."

"Let's practice kendo seven days a week."

"Today too?"

"of course"

"Don't you ever exhaust your energy during practice?"

"After practice, I always feel like I can't move any more. But when there's a woman in front of me, I can't hold back."

Wada blew lightly, and abrasive powder flew from the tip of his fingernail.

"It's an addiction."

In the summer of my second year of high school, I won the Fukuoka individual qualifying tournament. I've lost count of how many times I've won in Fukuoka. Winning in the fiercely competitive Fukuoka region as a second-year student attracted even more attention. That night, I called Minae to tell her about my victory.

"Where will the Inter-High School Championships be held?"

"Okayama"

"when?"

"First Half of August"

"May I go and support you as well?"

Minae was not a relationship partner, but a convenient sexual outlet, so I wished she would refrain from coming to the games to cheer me on.

"That's tough. I'm always with the coach in Okayama, so I don't have time to see Minae."

On one of our dates, my partner asked me to call him by his first name instead of his last name. It was more of a unilateral declaration than a request.

"You really don't have time?"

Minae didn't back down. In the end, I gave in and said, "If you want to come, just come." Minae replied, "Please let me know if you can make the time," and hung up the phone.

On the day of the finals, I discovered that I had become much stronger than when I was in junior high school. Not only in terms of technique and stamina, but also mentally. In the second round, my opponent was down by one point, but I remained calm and managed to regain the lead and win in overtime. It felt like a replay of the tournament in my third year of junior high school. Back then, too, every jump was enough to get a point.

Although he said he didn't have time, he was worried about Minae. He looked for her at the match venue from time to time, but he couldn't find her. He called her from his hotel room, but Minae didn't answer.

On the final day, I finally made it to the semi-finals. If I won two more matches, I would become the best in Japan as a second-year high school student. I wondered just how blessed I was. Talent is a cruel thing. It clearly separates those who receive the greatest benefits from it and those who, no matter how hard they try, are not blessed by fate. I didn't think of myself as arrogant. I just thought that was just how life was.

My opponent was a third-year student representing Kanagawa Prefecture. He was a strong player. I couldn't get an ippon easily, but I thought I wouldn't lose if I just took my time. That's because I didn't feel any talent in my opponent's kendo.

But in the end, I lost. The match went into overtime and ended in a head-on collision. Just as I jumped in, my opponent happened to jump in too. He was just a split second quicker. That was it. I lost, but I didn't feel too bad. It's normal for me to not feel too bad about losing.

In the final, the Kanagawa player lost to a second-year student from Osaka. He was defeated two times in straight sets within the time limit, giving up a crushing victory. The second-year student, Sho Ishizaka, was staring at me at the awards ceremony. It was creepy. Thinking this, I was overcome with a new emotion I'd never felt before.

This is the only one I might not be able to win against.

It's not a question of whether you actually win or lose in a match. It's on the level that even if you play a hundred matches, you might win a few times, but it would be impossible to win overall. It's a matter of basic ability. Ishizaka Sho exuded an intimidating aura that made you think so.

When I went to the bathroom after the award ceremony, I heard groans coming from a stall. The door was wide open. A third-year student who had won second place was crying and banging his forehead against the wall repeatedly. Each time he banged his forehead, the silver medal hanging from his neck made a clattering noise against the wall.

For some reason, I was drawn to this scene. I couldn't understand why he was crying. Second place in the nation was a more than satisfactory result. It wasn't like he'd lost in the first round, so why was he so upset?

In the end, I never met Minae in Okayama. After that, she didn't answer my phone calls, and I never received any calls from her again.