A New Life
During class, I discreetly checked the school rules written in the student handbook. I was used to reading legal-like documents like this during my time as a working adult. According to the relevant page, to start a new club, you need to gather at least five members and appoint a teacher as an advisor. No, considering how overworked teachers are, finding an advisor might be harder than recruiting members. Maybe I should target a teacher who’s just transferred in. Also, I’m curious about the computer club. If we’re going to make games, we’ll need the highest-performance computers possible. For a high school student, the only option is to use school equipment.
But if the computer club has too many members, there’ll be fewer computers available for us. No, rather than creating a new club from scratch, maybe we could become a branch of an existing club. It’s the start of the school year, and most clubs are recruiting new members. Especially if someone like Rika, a beautiful girl, joins, many high school boys would be overjoyed. Yeah, it’s not a bad idea.
“Hey, Michitaka! Walking to school with your childhood friend today, huh? Must be nice being so popular. But make sure your real girlfriend doesn’t get jealous!”
Takahashi Katsuya entered the new classroom energetically. We’d been in the same class from our first to third years of high school. It seems our fate is the same in this world too.
“Hey, Katsuya. First, let’s celebrate being in the same class again. How about a drink after school to mark our reunion?”
“What’s with you, Michitaka? Have you been binge-watching old foreign movies again? You sound like some middle-aged dude.”
Oh no, my old habits are showing again. No, it’s not even that old—it’s just recently, by our company’s standards. I used to think phrases like “by our company’s standards” were just a dirty adult safety net, but now I feel like crying from the sadness of how tainted my heart has become as I try to laugh it off.
By the way, Katsuya and I have always had a strange bond. Eventually, he became the vice president of my company. He originally picked up the guitar just to impress girls, but he ended up becoming super popular in the light music club. At the school festival, his performance even brought some students to tears. In college, he claimed, “A true artist isn’t bound by medium,” and started writing novels. He won a regional literary award and published several books annually while working at my company. On top of that, he posted performance videos on YouTube and gained hundreds of thousands of subscribers. Driven purely by curiosity, he dabbled in countless fields, becoming not just a jack-of-all-trades—cough, cough—but an all-rounder and my strongest right-hand man. He called being vice president his “side job,” while his “main job” was being a multimedia artist—a true eccentric.
That’s right. If I ask Katsuya, he might be able to create music and stories for our games. It’s a good idea. Unlike Miyabi, I have absolute trust in him. Sure, we’ve argued before, but we always forgot about it after sleeping it off.
Chatting with Katsuya about our favorite movies and books while snacking on gyoza and fried chicken, washing it all down with beer and highballs—that was the best. It’ll take three more years to recreate those golden days, but if we start building something together now, I’m sure we can create even better memories. By the way, after turning thirty, salads were added to our drinking menu… but let’s not dwell on that.
How should I convince him? No, rather than just talking to him out of the blue, it’d be better to create something tangible first. That way, I can show both the teachers and Katsuya actual results. That’s another habit I picked up from my working life—achievements and tangible proof build far more trust than mere words. After all, people prefer a warm, delicious bowl of ozoni over a picture of rice cakes.
Alright, I’ve decided. I’ll start working on something tonight!
When it comes to things like this, taking action often works better than overthinking. If I hit a roadblock, it’ll be easier to ask someone knowledgeable if I have something concrete to show them. Why was my high school self so afraid of failure? You learn far more by acting than by hesitating.
“Is there no one who can answer this? Then next, Yaguchi! Translate this English sentence.”
Lost in thought, I was suddenly called on by the old teacher.
Wishing I had a translation site open, I stalled for time with an “Uh… let’s see…”.
“‘Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever,’ said Gandhi of India, right?”
I’d heard that famous quote before. The picture of Gandhi in the textbook tipped me off.
“Yes, that’s a good answer. This sentence uses the hypothetical ‘as if’ construction, so make sure to remember it. It’ll be on the test.”
The classroom erupted with a chorus of “Ohhh” in admiration. Honestly, I’d only been an average student in high school, so they were probably surprised I could translate such a difficult sentence so smoothly.
Katsuya chimed in, “What, Michitaka? Did you go to some intense cram school during spring break?” Shut up. Mind your own business. I’ve studied far longer and harder than any cram school session could offer.
My first class in this redo of my high school life ended in a small triumph.