Riccardo and the vice principal walked in silence through the school hallways, the tension building with every step.
Riccardo glanced at the vice principal.
He seems like a different person than on the first day of school... Did I do something so bad that he's acting like this?
They stopped in front of the principal's office door.
"Excuse me!" the vice principal said after knocking.
They entered the classroom, where two people were waiting for him.
One was a student. The other was a man in his sixties.
"I brought the boy," the vice principal announced.
"Good..."
The student arrogantly approached Riccardo and tried to lift his shirt, but Riccardo grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
"And who the hell are you?" Riccardo asked, annoyed by the gesture.
"I'm the student council president!"
Riccardo gave a haughty smile at the response.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. President. You know it's rude to lift your shirt without your permission, right? Even if you were the most important person in the world." he said in a slightly scolding tone, leaving the boy no room to argue.
"Aliberti's right!" the vice principal intervened. "That's not the kind of behavior a student council president should exhibit. Let him go and apologize."
Irritated by the situation, the president accepted the criticism and dropped Riccardo's shirt.
"...Excuse me. I shouldn't have behaved like that."
"Apology accepted."
"Anyway, with or without your permission, we order you to lift your shirt... We need to verify something, in the presence of the principal." the vice principal said authoritatively, pointing to the older man, who revealed himself to be the school principal.
Riccardo, hearing the vice principal's words, seemed to understand what was happening. With a resigned expression, he lifted his shirt.
"I guess that's what you wanted to see, right?" Riccardo turned and showed off his tattoo.
The three stared at him, while Riccardo seemed lost in thought.
What a shitty situation... How the hell do I get out of this? And then... — Riccardo looked at the principal — he hasn't said a single word since I arrived.
"You know tattoos are against school rules, right?" asked the vice principal.
"No, I didn't know it was a rule."
"And how long have you had it?"
"About four months. I got it done in Italy."
"And can sixteen-year-olds get tattoos in Italy?" asked the student council president, puzzled.
"Yes, with parental consent."
"So your parents know about the tattoo?" the vice principal asked.
"Yes."
After a brief silence, the principal finally stepped forward.
"Can I ask you a question... what does the tattoo represent?"
Riccardo hesitated before answering.
"I didn't exactly grow up in the best place in Italy, even though my family is wealthy. A suburban town in southern Italy, one of the toughest neighborhoods, where kids like me had to earn respect just to live peacefully and not end up at the bottom of the social ladder."
"So? Can you tell us your story to change our minds about the tattoo?" the student council president intervened.
"The principal asked me what it means, right?" Riccardo replied. "All those kids... somehow, we all had one thing in common: soccer." Riccardo pointed to the ball in his tattoo. "We played in the street every day, we had fun, and for many of us it was an escape from the burdens of life we'd already been carrying on our shoulders since we were little... the same goes for me." He pointed to the street in the tattoo. "Soccer gave me a goal to pursue, pulling me out of the asphalt, stronger than ever." Finally, Riccardo pointed to the thorny rose. "So, to answer your question, it's a reminder of what I have to do: become a professional soccer player. Not just any player, but the best there is... for me and for all my friends who are still struggling to emerge from under that asphalt."
The three men were speechless at the meaning the tattoo had for Riccardo.
The principal smiled.
"In this particular case, I'll turn a blind eye."
"Excuse me, but I hope you're joking! Are you letting him go just because he told a good story?" exclaimed the student council president.
"Honestly, in this case, the blame isn't just young Riccardo's. We share the responsibility too."
"What?" asks the boy, perplexed.
"If, as Riccardo said, he already had the tattoo before coming to Japan and didn't know the rule, then it was our duty to check. Therefore, since he became a student here after our approval, we can't expel him for something we missed. Do you understand, Mr. Minazuki?"
Minazuki seemed reluctant to accept it at first, but then relented.
The principal smiled again.
"And besides, this isn't just any tattoo: it carries a meaning that comes from sports. And sports is the foundation of our school."
Riccardo straightened his shirt.
"But there's one condition, Mr. Aliberti." The principal called his attention again. "You mustn't show even a millimeter of that tattoo in a school setting, otherwise you won't get away with it next time..."
Riccardo bowed to the principal.
"Understood. Thank you."
"Good. You can return to your classes."
Riccardo left the office, gently closed the door, and took a deep breath.
I don't even know how I survived all this...!