Later Development

Later Development

Thats all I have to share about my experience.

When I declared this as though I was closing up a picture-story show I had just finished reading, dozens of shaved heads who were lying on their backs or sitting on the futon on my left, right, and front sides of the room were all exclaiming, Wow! Oh, wow. Ooh. Hah! They heaved a sigh simultaneously.

Phew Apparently, they were finally satisfied, which was a relief.

I never expected that I would be narrating this story from beginning to end

That horrifyingly sentimental story. It was an unforgettable experience I had in the summer of my 25th year, a strange and bizarre story.

For years, I have recounted this story to my adorable students who were members of the baseball team.

It all began when I accidentally slipped it out during a night of ghost stories at a summer camp. The boys, who were scaredy-cats but enjoyed such stories, were quite taken with my storytelling and the content of my stories. Consequently, Coach Hakamadas Super Scary Story Tournament has taken over as a regular event at the annual summer camp.

Everyone was a bit worn out even though it had been a while since I had last shared the story, but they turned off the lights and crowded around me, listening beneath the futons, periodically shouting and screaming in terror and then asking me anxiously, What happened next? urging me to continue. These guys reacted in a cute way every time.

As a narrator, I was content if they were thrilled with my story.

After hearing my narrative, the club members exhaled a breath of relief, but instead of scattering to their own futons, they hurried up to me, seemingly unable to cool down from the excitement.

Holy crap! Thats really scary! Im surprised youre still alive, Coach!

Youve been sweating your hands, man, its gross.

I cant go to the bathroom at night. Hey, lets go to sleep with the light on.

Idiot, of course Coach made that up! Hes so brilliant at telling stories!

What? You dont believe me?

I mean, theres no proof.

You dont believe in such things?

Specters dont exist.

Those nostalgic words unintentionally elicited a laugh from me. No matter how cheeky they were, I wouldnt be offended. Every year, there were invariably two groups: those who believe in it and those who dont.

Hey, hey! Coach Masamune!

Coach Masamune!

Hey, I told you to call me Grand Coach Hakamada, didnt I?

Thats! You mean romantically?

Of course its a secret!

Go to bed

After confirming that all of the people who were making disgruntled noises like, Ugh, had finally gotten into the futon, I was about to get up, when one of them suddenly screamed and shoved the futon off. Right then, the guys who had struggled so hard to get back under the futon jumped up and started yelling, and they all came back toward me again.

What the hell! Dont startle me, you idiot!

I-Ieeee!

Dont mess with me! What!

Footsteps just came down the hallway!!

Hallway!?

When we all listened carefully, indeed, we could hear what sounded like footsteps clacking at a strange tempo reverberating from the corridor and approaching us.

Its the security guard, isnt it?

Theres no security guard in this run-down place!

I-Isnt it a specter!?

D-Dont say such a serious thing!

Footsteps creaking on the old floorboards became gradually louder and louder, and when they came very close to the door, everyone in the room fell silent.

Isnt it really a specter

With anxious expressions on their faces, my students squeezed my sides and tugged at my pajamas with their slender arms.

Coach!

As they seemed to be on the verge of panic, I was reminded of myself in the past and tried to reassure them with a smile.

Its going to be okay, guys.

Stretching out my arms as far as I could, I wrapped them tightly around me.

If anything should happen, at that time I remarked confidently, putting all my strength into it so that no one would ever be separated from me. I will absolutely protect you.