After our infamous four-on-twenty-one brawl, things changed fast.
Li Hao and I grew closer—almost like brothers. And Okamoto Yoshi? He transformed overnight from a sneering punk into the most obsequious lackey imaginable. Within days, he showed up with an extravagant peace offering:
Four brand-new, custom-modified motorcycles.
"Please accept these," he implored, bowing deeply. "It's my sincere apology. If you refuse… I'll never forgive myself."
We stared at the gleaming machines—sleek, aggressive, built for speed. In Japan, where motorcycle culture runs deep and bōsōzoku gangs treat bikes like extensions of their souls, these weren't just vehicles. They were statements.
And truth be told? I was tempted. Japanese superbikes could out-accelerate most supercars—0 to 100 km/h in under three seconds. On winding mountain passes, no Lamborghini stood a chance. Motorcycles didn't just compete with sports cars—they redefined the race.
"I don't think we should—" I started to protest.
Li Hao clapped me on the shoulder, cutting me off mid-sentence. "Thank you, Okamoto-kun," he said smoothly. "We gratefully accept your gift."
Okamoto beamed. "It's my honor! Please… look after me from now on!"
He bowed again and hurried off before we could change our minds.
Once he was gone, I turned to Li Hao. "Aren't you worried he'll ask for favors later?"
Li Hao shrugged, already inspecting his bike. "I like fighting. Besides," he grinned, "now we can ride to school together."
Ah. There it was.
He wasn't just thinking about convenience—he was angling for more time with Jixiang.
And honestly? I couldn't complain. Because if Li Hao got Jixiang… maybe I'd finally get a real shot with Asada Mai.
Back home, Third Aunt raised an eyebrow when I rolled up on the yellow machine. "Where did this come from?" she asked.
I explained briefly. She frowned but only said, "Just don't ride too fast."
The next morning—
Jixiang squealed the moment she saw me astride the bike. "Muzhou-nii! Where'd you get this? It's so cool!"
"Okamoto's apology gift. Guess that punk's loaded."
"Well, duh! His family's a major corporation—same as Asada's. Still," she smirked, "beating him up and getting free bikes? Best deal ever." Then her smile faded. "But… what about me and Mai? How are we supposed to get to school now?"
I glanced at my watch. Li Hao was supposed to be here at 7:30. It was already 7:40.
"Don't worry!" I said quickly. "I can give you both rides—one at a time!"
Jixiang crossed her arms. "No way. Mai and I will just walk."
"Wait—!"
Just then, the roar of engines cut through the air.
Li Hao, Liu Qi, and Zhao Zhixin zoomed into view. Liu Qi and Zhao Zhixin gave quick waves and sped ahead toward school—but Li Hao slowed to a stop right in front of us.
He removed his helmet, eyes locked on Jixiang. "Need a ride?"
Jixiang hesitated, glancing at Mai, who looked helplessly back at me.
That was my cue.
I snatched the spare helmet and thrust it into Mai's hands. "Come on, Asada-san! Don't be shy—Li Hao's being kind. I'll take you."
Before she could protest, I gently pulled her toward my bike. Her body was soft, almost weightless in my grip. She let out a startled "Ah!" as she stumbled against me.
Jixiang sighed dramatically—but climbed onto Li Hao's bike anyway.
I helped Mai secure her helmet, then felt her slender arms tentatively wrap around my waist. The engine growled to life.
"Ah—!" she gasped again, tightening her hold as we surged forward.
"Sugoi desu ne~!" she whispered, half-terrified, half-thrilled, as we raced toward Keitoku High.
Of course, the school strictly forbade students from riding motorcycles—especially those linked to bōsōzoku. So we parked a hundred meters away, stashing the bikes behind a convenience store before walking in like model students.
And then—summer break arrived.
After much debate, our group settled on a two-part trip: Mount Fuji first, then Hokkaido for cooler weather. Fuji was close—just across the border of Shizuoka and Yamanashi Prefectures—and reachable by Shinkansen in under an hour.
Our travel party:
Four boys—me, Li Hao, Liu Qi, Zhao Zhixin.
Five girls—Jixiang, Asada Mai, Jiang Pan, Wang Xueying, and Xiao Yujie.
We'd agreed: no hotels. Just pure, old-fashioned camping—tents, campfires, stargazing. Everyone was excited.
On the third day of summer vacation, we met at the station, backpacks strapped tight, spirits high.
By late morning, we'd arrived at the base of Mount Fuji.
"So… where do we camp?" I asked Li Hao.
He scratched his head. "Dunno. I've always stayed in hotels with my parents. But hey—I packed everything!"
I turned to the girls. They exchanged uncertain glances. None of them had a plan either.
Jixiang stamped her foot. "No hotels! That defeats the whole point! We need a campfire, ghost stories, marshmallows—adventure!"
Asada Mai stepped forward shyly. "What about… Lake Yamanaka? Or better yet—Lake Shōji? Actually…" She brightened. "Lake Yamana—no, wait—Lake Saiko? Hmm…"
"No," she corrected herself softly. "Lake Yamanaka is touristy… but Lake Kawaguchi has campsites. Or even better—Lake Motosu…"
I was lost in the sea of lake names—until she said one that clicked.
"Actually," she smiled, "the best one is Lake Yamanaka's neighbor—Lake Shōji. But the easiest and most beautiful is Lake Yamanaka… Wait—no!"
She giggled at her own confusion, then said clearly:
"Yamanakako—Lake Yamanaka—is fine, but if you want quiet and space… Lake Saiko or Lake Motosu. But the biggest and most fun is actually… Lake Yamanaka."
I blinked. "Just tell me which one has boats!"
That made her laugh. "All of them do! But Lake Yamanaka has paddle boats, kayaks, even little motor launches."
"Boats? Lakes? Camping?" My mind spun with possibilities—moonlight rowing, sharing blankets by the fire, Mai's hair catching the breeze…
I must've been staring, because she suddenly blushed crimson, shot me a flustered glare, and hooked her arm through Jixiang's. "Let's go!" she muttered, marching ahead.
"Hey, wait!" I jogged after her. "Which lake exactly? And how far?"
She tossed her hair over her shoulder without looking back. "Lake Yamanaka—but actually, I meant Lake Kawaguchi. No—Lake Saiko is prettier… Ugh!" She sighed. "Fine! Lake Yamanaka it is! It's huge, clean, and there's a proper campground. We can take a taxi—it's not far, but walking would take hours."
Her annoyance was clearly feigned. If she were truly mad, she wouldn't have answered at all.
So I fell into step behind her, heart pounding—not from the hike, but from the thought of spending nights under the stars… with her just a tent away.
Mount Fuji loomed in the distance, snow-capped and serene.
Summer had begun.
And for the first time since arriving in Japan, I felt… free.