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Over the next few days, Takashi made sure to take Aki's message of keeping his eyes open to heart.
Okay, so she probably didn't mean it this way. Maybe she did -- Takashi wouldn't know. What he did know was that Aki was always rather mysterious (frustratingly enough), and that she was quite fond of double entendres.
So what if Takashi spent the next few days watching Hiro-Ryo-whoever (who actually turned out to be a guy named Sato Jirou)? There was no harm in it; even if Takashi did pay more attention in class instead of watching Sato, it's not like he would get any better at the material.
Through his limited observations, Takashi . . . did not learn much, honestly. Sato seemed like a good student (apparently, besides growing up with absurdly smart people, they're also the only people I find interesting). Other than that, he was one of the plainest dudes Takashi knew, and honestly, in high school, a lot of people start to blur together. Even so, Takashi could point to someone he knew and say that they were a great swimmer, or to the popular girls and say which one of them liked to wear bright lip tints and always got in trouble for it. Sato had none of that. He was like a mid-toned gray paint swatch, not even interesting enough to be compared to a piece of granite.
On the fourth day, however, Takashi learned that Sato was actually a good runner. They matched each other the entire time during laps, which admittedly, made Takashi just the slightest bit bitter that he couldn't just have his one strength to himself.
Don't say that to yourself, man. Positive thoughts! Remember, Takashi, you're actually pretty decent at English and German and Chinese, even though you kinda suck everywhere else. As the son of the absurdly rich and traditional Kanayamas and a foreign business mogul, Takashi was tutored extensively in foreign languages when he was younger. He supposed that the only reason he picked them up decently was due to the fact that he was always good at talking. Strangely enough, Takashi didn't get a tutor for anything else.
On a side note, during Takashi's intense trials of trying to learn more about the very plain Sato Jirou, he stumbled across the revelation that Jirou's name had the same romanization as the Chinese terms for chicken meat and muscle. Muscle may have been more flattering, but chicken meat was certainly more amusing. Takashi made sure to remember that.
Later, Takashi very nearly got paired up with Sato for a class exercise, but Kousuke jumped in to partner up with him at the last second. Which was honestly rather stupid, considering that Takashi is not the brightest bulb on the chandelier.
A few days later, though, Takashi's English teacher (who liked him because Takashi was actually pretty great at his class) cheerily requested Takashi and Sato to help him carry some boxes of paperwork after class. Honestly, Takashi didn't mind doing menial tasks, especially if it was for his English teacher (who, once again, liked Takashi because he was actually good at English). But add Sato to the equation, and honestly, Takashi was a little excited. It sounded pretty idiotic to be excited at such a prospect, but school was rather boring and predictable for Takashi -- he was dumb, girls thought he was captivating, and people wanted to be his friend. Takashi had no problem with routine, but he did like to experience something new -- and something new and exciting equates to having to carry boxes of paperwork with some really boring guy. God, Takashi, you are genuinely so pathetic; if Father disowns you, at least you'll understand why.
"Sato Jirou, right?" Takashi asked amicably as the two walked side by side to the teacher's lounge. "I've seen you around -- clearly, since we're in the same class -- but it's great to actually talk to you. How are you doing in English?"
Okay, so she probably didn't mean it this way. Maybe she did -- Takashi wouldn't know. What he did know was that Aki was always rather mysterious (frustratingly enough), and that she was quite fond of double entendres.
So what if Takashi spent the next few days watching Hiro-Ryo-whoever (who actually turned out to be a guy named Sato Jirou)? There was no harm in it; even if Takashi did pay more attention in class instead of watching Sato, it's not like he would get any better at the material.
Through his limited observations, Takashi . . . did not learn much, honestly. Sato seemed like a good student (apparently, besides growing up with absurdly smart people, they're also the only people I find interesting). Other than that, he was one of the plainest dudes Takashi knew, and honestly, in high school, a lot of people start to blur together. Even so, Takashi could point to someone he knew and say that they were a great swimmer, or to the popular girls and say which one of them liked to wear bright lip tints and always got in trouble for it. Sato had none of that. He was like a mid-toned gray paint swatch, not even interesting enough to be compared to a piece of granite.
On the fourth day, however, Takashi learned that Sato was actually a good runner. They matched each other the entire time during laps, which admittedly, made Takashi just the slightest bit bitter that he couldn't just have his one strength to himself.
Don't say that to yourself, man. Positive thoughts! Remember, Takashi, you're actually pretty decent at English and German and Chinese, even though you kinda suck everywhere else. As the son of the absurdly rich and traditional Kanayamas and a foreign business mogul, Takashi was tutored extensively in foreign languages when he was younger. He supposed that the only reason he picked them up decently was due to the fact that he was always good at talking. Strangely enough, Takashi didn't get a tutor for anything else.
On a side note, during Takashi's intense trials of trying to learn more about the very plain Sato Jirou, he stumbled across the revelation that Jirou's name had the same romanization as the Chinese terms for chicken meat and muscle. Muscle may have been more flattering, but chicken meat was certainly more amusing. Takashi made sure to remember that.
Later, Takashi very nearly got paired up with Sato for a class exercise, but Kousuke jumped in to partner up with him at the last second. Which was honestly rather stupid, considering that Takashi is not the brightest bulb on the chandelier.
A few days later, though, Takashi's English teacher (who liked him because Takashi was actually pretty great at his class) cheerily requested Takashi and Sato to help him carry some boxes of paperwork after class. Honestly, Takashi didn't mind doing menial tasks, especially if it was for his English teacher (who, once again, liked Takashi because he was actually good at English). But add Sato to the equation, and honestly, Takashi was a little excited. It sounded pretty idiotic to be excited at such a prospect, but school was rather boring and predictable for Takashi -- he was dumb, girls thought he was captivating, and people wanted to be his friend. Takashi had no problem with routine, but he did like to experience something new -- and something new and exciting equates to having to carry boxes of paperwork with some really boring guy. God, Takashi, you are genuinely so pathetic; if Father disowns you, at least you'll understand why.
"Sato Jirou, right?" Takashi asked amicably as the two walked side by side to the teacher's lounge. "I've seen you around -- clearly, since we're in the same class -- but it's great to actually talk to you. How are you doing in English?"