Ryuichi Yoshimine, the principal of Kitagijuku High School, was already quite familiar with Tsukasa Higashino.
After all, for the past month, Tsukasa had wandered into the principal’s office whenever he had free time, helping move things around or copying documents.
At first, Ryuichi had been rather resistant to these unexpected visits, but as time passed, he gradually grew used to them.
Eventually, he even began looking out for Tsukasa from time to time.
From Ryuichi’s perspective, Tsukasa was nothing more than a pure, straightforward high school student without the slightest bit of scheming in him.
Ryuichi had been that age once himself.
Whenever he looked at that clean, innocent face, though, really, most of that “innocence” came from Tsukasa simply being handsome—Ryuichi found himself tolerating the uninvited guest who kept dropping by.
After exchanging a few words, Ryuichi poured Tsukasa a cup of tea, poured another for himself, and finally sat down with a teasing smile.
“So, Higashino, what brings you here this time?
I’ll warn you in advance: I know about your sister’s situation, but the rules are the rules.
I can’t make an exception for you.”
Tsukasa hadn’t even started talking, and the principal had already blocked off that route.
But Tsukasa wasn’t annoyed.
He merely smiled.
“Principal Yoshimine, you make me sound like that’s the only reason I ever come here.
I’m here about something else this time.”
Of course, Tsukasa knew that asking about Chihaya right now would get him nowhere.
After all, he had nothing but words at the moment.
He could hardly expect Ryuichi to believe that he was capable of winning the Gold Award at the Tokyo Youth Art Competition.
“I’d like to join the art club.
I was hoping you could approve it, Principal Yoshimine.”
Kitagijuku’s art club already had drawing boards and canvases available.
Aside from palettes, paint, oil brushes, and a few other consumable supplies, Tsukasa wouldn’t have to spend money buying much of anything himself.
He could make do with the club’s equipment for now.
Once he won the Gold Award, then he could bring up his real request.
“You want to join the art club?
Isn’t Ms.
Okano in charge of that?
Why not just submit an application directly to her?”
Ryuichi paused.
Wait a minute.
Realization suddenly dawned on him.
Looking at Tsukasa, he said, “Oh, right.
Ms.
Okano hardly ever accepts ordinary students into the art club.
You need a solid foundation in painting before she’ll let you join.
No wonder you came to me.”
Kitagijuku’s art club had extremely strict admission requirements.
If Tsukasa entered through the principal, it would essentially amount to using a back door.
Ryuichi smiled.
“I knew I couldn’t hide it from you, Principal Yoshimine.”
Tsukasa gave him a slightly embarrassed smile.
Seeing such an apparently youthful and innocent reaction, Ryuichi didn’t think any deeper into the matter.
It was only the art club.
Hardly a serious issue.
He wrote a short note, took out his personal seal, stamped it, and handed the paper to Tsukasa.
“Just show this to Ms.
Okano.” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
“Thank you for the trouble, Principal Yoshimine.
I promise I’ll give you a pleasant surprise.”
“Hahaha.”
Ryuichi laughed.
He didn’t take Tsukasa’s words particularly seriously.
He was the principal of Kitagijuku.
What kind of surprise could an ordinary high school student possibly give him?
It wasn’t that he looked down on Tsukasa.
It was simply a matter of perspective.
Was he really supposed to expect Tsukasa to suddenly win the Gold Award at the Tokyo Youth Art Competition?
The boy couldn’t even get into the art club without asking the principal to pull strings for him.
No matter how Ryuichi looked at it, Tsukasa didn’t seem to have much of a chance.
He waved the matter aside and began chatting casually with Tsukasa.
Naturally, Tsukasa didn’t immediately leave.
Someone had just done him a favor.
Turning around and walking out the moment he got what he wanted would have been terrible manners.
Ryuichi, for his part, was quite comfortable.
Talking with Tsukasa was surprisingly enjoyable.
The boy was an excellent conversationalist.
He knew how to respond, how to keep a discussion flowing, and unlike an ordinary student, he occasionally shared amusing stories about society and everyday life that even Ryuichi had never heard before.
The lunch break quickly passed amid their casual conversation.
There wasn’t much worth mentioning about the afternoon classes either.
Tsukasa sat at his desk and more or less coasted through them.
He had always been someone who remembered the kindness of his teachers.
Unfortunately, everything his teachers had taught him in his previous life had already been thoroughly returned to them.
Forcing him to sit through high school lessons again now felt less like education and more like torture.
Tsukasa genuinely couldn’t understand how all those other transmigrators in stories managed to return to school and calmly study like model students.
He certainly couldn’t do it.
Compared with studying…
“Higashino, you want to join the art club, correct?”
Ryoko Okano, the faculty adviser for Kitagijuku’s art club, studied Tsukasa while examining the document bearing Principal Yoshimine’s seal.
Her attitude was neither especially friendly nor cold.
It was simply the ordinary manner a teacher would use with a student she barely knew.
“Yes.
I’d very much like to join the art club.”
Tsukasa answered firmly.
“That shouldn’t be difficult.
However, Kitagijuku’s art club activities are quite strict.
This isn’t a casual hobby circle.
Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up?”
After confirming that the seal really belonged to Ryuichi Yoshimine, Ryoko’s attitude softened noticeably.
In Japanese schools, bukatsu referred to organized extracurricular club activities, a tradition that could be traced back to school clubs established during the Meiji era.
Unlike casual hobby circles, bukatsu were generally organized around achieving concrete results in a particular field, so their internal rules could be quite demanding.
Members were required to attend art-club activities at least four times a week, and absences were forbidden unless there was a legitimate reason.
After club activities ended, members also had to write summary reports.
Those reports were tedious, and many students in school clubs hated writing them.
Unfortunately, the clubs had to submit reports to the school administration at regular intervals, so there was no avoiding the paperwork.
After all, if students were using school facilities and club funds provided by the administration, they were expected to fulfill the corresponding responsibilities.
“I’ll do my best to keep up.”
Tsukasa smiled and nodded.
Truthfully, all he really wanted were the art club’s drawing boards, canvases, and spacious studio.
He couldn’t care less about all the other troublesome details.
After hearing his assurance, Ryoko said nothing more.
She opened a drawer, took out a spare key to the art room, and handed it to Tsukasa.
After giving him a few brief instructions, she lowered her head and returned to her work.
Now that he had the key, Tsukasa naturally had no reason to remain there.
He thanked her, left the main school building, and headed toward the club-activity building.
The art club occupied a studio on the third floor.
Tsukasa didn’t hesitate.
He simply walked inside.
The moment he entered, the unmistakable smell of oil paint and turpentine rushed into his nose.
Far from finding it unpleasant, Tsukasa felt an unexpected wave of nostalgia.
He had owned a studio in his previous life.
Of course, that studio was gone now.
But once he had some spare money, he definitely intended to set one up again.
As soon as Tsukasa entered, he noticed a group of girls gathered behind a long-haired student.
Every now and then, excited exclamations drifted from the group.
“How did you paint that?”
“Senpai, you’re amazing!”
Japanese high school art clubs tended to have far more girls than boys.
After all, most ambitious teenage boys were either busy chasing girls or studying.
How many of them had the patience to join an art club where they might spend an entire afternoon sitting in front of a canvas?
Tsukasa didn’t share the usual Japanese habit of announcing himself to the senior students the moment he entered a clubroom.
He glanced briefly at the cluster of girls, walked in on his own, and began surveying the room.
Several oak easels lay along one corner, their edges stained with dried paint.
Beside them rested a few drawing boards mottled with old patches of color.
That was normal for well-used boards.
Over time, paint would seep through the paper and into the board beneath it, gradually leaving permanent stains across the surface.
Aside from those, easels, water buckets, and small stools were scattered around the studio in an arrangement that looked chaotic at first glance but was actually fairly organized.
At the moment, Kitagijuku’s art-club students were all preparing for the Tokyo Youth Art Competition.
Many of their oil paintings were already half finished.
The long-haired girl at the center of the crowd was probably the most skilled painter among them.
Otherwise, so many students wouldn’t have gathered around to watch her work.
But none of that had anything to do with Tsukasa.
In his previous life, he had been a professional artist who made his living through painting.
So, from his perspective, looking at the paintings produced by these high school students…
How should he put it?
Tsukasa didn’t want to be too blunt.
So he searched for a gentler word to describe them.
Garbage.