Drawn Mochi Volume 4 Chapter 1.1: The Mochi Drawn In The Picture Is A Decoration

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T/N: I really love Chapter 1’s with Tougo’s teacher. He’s like the parent Tougo never had. His parents’ actions are very Asian Parent stereotypical, but it was quite common when I grew up. Globalization and the internet made parents more flexible.



 I was visiting my teacher’s house that day, too.


 Ever since he gave me permission to visit him that evening, I have been coming to his house far too often.



“Teacher.” (Tougo)



 I press the intercom and hear his voice over the intercom, “Oh, you’ve come well. Come on in.”


 After I hear his voice, I quickly go through the gate, open the front door, and enter the house.



“You were early today. What happened?” (Teacher)


“It was the last day of school.” (Tougo)


“So you say, it’s that time of the year already, huh? It’s so early. There are only a few days left in this year.” (Teacher)



 The heating system softly warmed my body as I entered the room. Teacher got up from his seat and came back a little later with a cup of hot tea.


 I was a little surprised when I received it because it was a flavored tea with a fancy aroma, which was unusual for a cup of tea in the teacher’s house. Most of the teas served at Teacher’s house are made from a set of 100 economy tea bags or something like that.



“What’s with this?” (Tougo)


“Hmm? Oh, it’s a gift. It seems to be a souvenir from abroad. I thought you didn’t like coffee, so I made flavored tea instead of flavored coffee. I have no idea why they added the flavor.” (Teacher)



 When I drank it, I could smell a foreign aroma coming through my nose. What is it? It smells like raspberries or strawberries, but it’s not.



“Tougo. What kind of scent is this? The package has a picture of something that looks like a raspberry.” (Teacher)


“…It looks like strawberries or raspberries, but I don’t know.” (Tougo)


“I don’t know. I think you know more about this kind of thing than I do…” (Teacher)



 …I think my parents might have figured it out. Yes. But I’m not picky about tea. Although it may be too much for Teacher.



“I can’t read French, but all I know is that this package is in French.” (Teacher)


“Is it a souvenir from France?” (Tougo)


“It seems so. Do you want to see…” (Teacher)


 Teacher showed me the package of tea, which I accepted and looked at.


 I could not read French either, as a matter of course. I can only read English as well as I have learned in school. However, when I saw the picture on the package, I thought, “Ah, this is very nice. It was probably drawn with color ink, not watercolor. The bright colors are pop-ish and just right for a tea package.



“So, this is raspberry tea… huh?” (Tougo)


“But it doesn’t smell like raspberries. What exactly is this flavor? Do the French think it’s raspberries? Or is that what French raspberries smell like?” (Teacher)



 I don’t know about French raspberries, but at any rate, this tea has a totally different aroma from the raspberries we get here in our garden.



“…Well, it’s a foreign scent, I guess. Ah.” (Tougo)



 Yes. Well, exoticism.



“By the way, I have some cookies that I haven’t opened yet because I’m afraid to. I can see from the package that they’re pink…” (Teacher)



 …Yeah, well, that also seems exotic.



 I pick up a little pink cookie while sipping a mystery tea.


 The cookies were rather plain in color, a far cry from the bright colors of the package. Both the teacher and I were relieved. The taste, by the way, was exotic, with a hint of rose. It was a little too stylish to be served at the teacher’s house.


 …At first, he said, “I’m not used to this taste. Well, this is also an experience.” The next time I went to the store, I was so focused that I was running a ballpoint pen over my notepad.


 It seems that when Teacher starts to concentrate, he becomes oblivious to his surroundings and the taste of the cookies. I remember that feeling too.


 As he was concentrating like that, I quietly started to put my bag in order.


 The end-of-term ceremony is a time when you have a lot of baggage. The bag was crumpled up with all sorts of things coming in one after another, such as handouts summarizing the points to keep in mind during the winter break, homework assignments for the winter break, and returned tests that were apparently left unreturned.


 The wrinkled prints are frowned upon when they are presented to parents, so they are re-filed and neatly aligned to some extent, and those that are wrinkled are folded and folded neatly to make them look more presentable.



 …When I was organizing them in this way, I came across some paper that looked very different from the recycled paper prints.



“…oh.” (Teacher)



 When I was looking at it, Teacher, who seemed to have somehow lost his concentration, was looking at it in my hand.



“Tougo. Is that a report card?” (Teacher)



 I handed the piece of paper to the teacher who looked at it.



“Hmm… as expected. It’s really an ideal report card.” (Teacher)


“Yes…” (Tougo)



 In my report card, the test rankings are small, and the report card columns are usually large. Well, as usual.



“Five in PE two terms in a row. Good job.” (Teacher)


“Yeah. Thanks to Teacher.” (Tougo)



 For the long sitting forward bend, if you start with your shoulders shrugged, your record will increase tremendously. For the standing long jump, jump when the person in charge of the measurement looks away. The grip strength is measured several times with different gauges, because each gauge has its own error. In the repeated horizontal jump, the leg that is not on the side of the person in charge of the measurement will be counted even if it does not reach the line. If you do the endurance run diligently, your time will decrease by that much. …If I put into practice what I learned from my teacher at my PE grade improved. Hmm, 80% cunning.



“I remember last year when I got a 4 in PE instead of a 5. I don’t know why that was…” (Teacher)


“I got points deducted because my voice was too quiet.” (Tougo)


“Oh, that reminds me. So, I said, ‘Well, next time you can bring a microphone and an amplifier.’” (Teacher)


“And I was in a bit of a pickle.” (Tougo)



 I laughed a little, remembering what had happened exactly one year ago. Teacher has not changed since then.



“And… what, you got first place on the test this time! It’s amazing, you!” (Teacher)



 Teacher looked at my report card and looked very happy. He really is. If anything… much more so than myself.



“…what’s the matter, Tougo? You don’t look very happy. This will satisfy your parents, won’t it? Your parents must be in a good mood, Tougo.” (Teacher)



 I don’t think so. I suppose, because if I am in third place, they tell me to aim for second place, and if I am in second place, they tell me to aim for first place, but if I am in first place, there’s nothing to be said. It’s just the way they are.



“…they are not happy about it.” (Tougo)



 But that’s not all. I don’t think I’m particularly happy.



“Hmm, is that so? Well, that’s what it is.” (Teacher)



 Then Teacher tilted his head a little.



“I tend to like first place. Well, I probably have far less experience being than you.” (Teacher)



 The teacher looks at my report card and smiles.



“Yeah. It’s cool.” (Teacher)


“…huh?” (Tougo)


“Yes, it is. Well, it’s your report card, not mine… but it’s cool that you’re getting high marks, well, it’s cool. Even if this evaluation is for something you don’t care about. After all, it’s proof that you’re doing well.” (Teacher)



 With that, the teacher took a bite of the cookie and washed it down with a cup of tea. His expression, admittedly, looks a bit happy.


 …I understand that he is not lying.


 But I don’t understand.



“…I’m not happy because I’m not interested in my grades.” (Tougo)



 When I look at my grades, my feelings are unaffected.


 I feel a little anxious, but above all, my thoughts are “I can’t complain about this” or “How can I use this report card as a bargaining chip?” thoughts and feelings are completely different.


 The teacher, who was looking at me, suddenly said firmly.



“I see. You certainly seem to be the type of person who has no desire for honor or recognition.” (Teacher)



 No desire, I wonder.


 Not being happy… may indeed be similar to not having desire. It does mean that I don’t want it.


 Yes. I do not want it.



 I don’t want the report card. My parents would be angry if I didn’t have it, so I need it, but I don’t want it.




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