Smiling at the Moon: Volume 1 - Chapter 1 - part 1

As a side note, I will keep certain terms in the original Japanese because I think it sounds better. I will also keep the order of their names Last Name First Name as in the original Japanese. It just sounds and flows better to me.

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The linoleum hallway was silent. Only when stepping on the parts where the adhesive had peeled off and lifted did it make a crisp sound. Moonlight streamed in from the window on the north side, brightening the corridor, and my eyes were getting used to the darkness. Nevertheless, being able to walk through the dimness without stumbling was because this was a familiar place... the hallway of my Junior High School.

Kanou Michihiko shivered, resisting the cold that slid down his neck, hunching his shoulders and walking with his hands in his coat pockets. Yesterday, during dinner, his mother had mentioned, "the last day of winter is coming soon." He wasn't interested, so he casually replied, "I see." The intuition of people in the past is strange. It's not warm enough to be called "spring" yet.

He climbed the east staircase to the fourth floor, counting the class displays on the right side of the classroom entrance. The characters written were too dark to read. The fourth one was 2-F, his own class.

Having forgotten his cell phone, he didn't know the exact time. Before sneaking into the school building, the old clock tower that protruded into the moonlight as if it had come to life was pointing to 10:50.

In the distance, the distant barking of a dog could be heard, making his back shiver. The school at night was already unsettling. The contrast between the daytime hustle and bustle and the nighttime eeriness. It felt like everything was dead.

Third, fourth... here it is. The sliding door on the teacher's side made a surprisingly loud noise, hesitating to open it... even though there was no one there, he repeated the action three times as if hesitating.

An empty classroom. As he passed by the teacher's desk, the floorboards creaked softly. The desks and chairs, unoccupied, seemed to be lined up and staring at him, making him suddenly very scared.

Honestly, he really didn't want to sneak into his junior high school at night. He knew he would be scolded if caught, but there was a reason he had to do it.

Passing between the desks, he stood in front of Kenta Nagao's desk at the back of the classroom by the window. He pulled out a chair and squatted down. It was dark, and the inside of the desk was cluttered with various items, making it hard to tell which one was the English textbook just by peeking inside.

He wanted to turn on the classroom lights, but if he were found, it would be a big problem. He regretted not bringing a flashlight, but it was too late now.

The classroom seemed to brighten slightly. The shadows of the desks and chairs were clearer than before. He lifted his head. Through the window, the full moon was shining beautifully through a gap in the long, thin clouds. Even his hand placed on the desk had a shadow.

Michihiko pulled out everything from the desk and piled it on the chair. Japanese textbooks, math textbooks, manga volumes...

At first, he thought the faint sound he heard was his imagination, because there shouldn't be anyone here. As he strained his ears, the sound became clearer, unmistakably the sound of footsteps. His whole body froze.

'They're gonna find me!'

'No, I can't let that happen.'

'I have to run.'

Even though he knew this, his legs trembled and wouldn't move. The image of being scolded by the teacher or his parents flashed through his mind. Next, he saw himself being ridiculed by his friends.

As he looked around in panic, he saw sculpture-like curves. Michihiko stuffed the textbooks back into the desk and hurried to the curtain at the back of the classroom. He wrapped the dusty fabric around himself, clutching it tightly. The classroom was dark. If he hid, maybe he wouldn't be found.

Two approaching footsteps. They rushed into the classroom. Michihiko couldn't stop trembling inside the curtain. There was a loud bang, as if something was being violently hit. "Don't mess with me!" a man's angry voice. A small scream.

A loud sound like a desk falling over. The sound of a fight. Or was it something different? Something was off. Michihiko peeked outside through a gap in the curtain. A desk near the entrance had fallen over. Two figures were struggling in front of the teacher's desk. A large shadow raised its hand, the painful sound made him cringe.

" Hand it over, you stupid woman."

The one hitting was a man. The one being hit was probably a woman. The man grabbed her long hair and dragged her around.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

 She cowered, begging for forgiveness. He had heard that voice before. The repeated "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Despite her apologies, the man kicked her curled-up back. Unforgiving.

"Where did you hide it?"

The man's face came into view. Around twenty years old, with a thin beard on his chin. Many piercings adorned both ears, jingling heavily.

"I'll give it back... I'll give it back, so please don't hit me anymore. My stomach hurts."

He was sure. It was Saito's voice. Hitomi Saito from the same class.

"Where did you put it?"

"...In the desk."

Twisting his mouth, the man kicked a nearby desk aside. With a loud bang, it fell over.

"I can't tell which one is yours."

Saito stood up unsteadily, took something like a paper bag from her own desk in front of the teacher's desk. The man snatched it away and tore the bag open. A small package, about the size of his palm, fell out.

" You've caused me a lot of trouble."

The man clicked his tongue and lifted the package towards his face. At that moment, Saito lunged at him. Caught off guard, the man fell into the desk. After crouching down beside him for a moment, Saito ran towards the window.

"You bitch!"

The man's angry voice. Cold air flowed in. The rustling of leaves. In front of the open window, Saito's long hair fluttered like a monster from a picture book he had read as a child.

" Don't come any closer!"

Saito, with her back turned, grabbed the window frame and shouted. The man, about to pounce like a lion, stopped in his tracks.

"If you come closer, I'll jump."

Her voice was trembling.

"I'll jump."

The man, chin raised, chuckled, his shoulders shaking. It sent a chill down his spine. No, no... You shouldn't laugh in a situation like this. You shouldn't laugh at Saito. Otherwise, otherwise...

"If you want to die, then go ahead and die."

His words felt like a blade.

"But leave that behind."

The crying expression disappeared from Saito's face. Her face became expressionless, like a doll. With an emotionless look, Saito tore open the package she was holding. She extended her right hand out the window. Sand-like powder trickled down.

"Hey, you!"

Before the man could grab her, Saito, with cat-like agility, put her foot on the window frame and disappeared as if being sucked out the window.

A dreamlike image. The dull thud that followed was reality. The outcome.

"Are you serious?" the man muttered as he rushed to the window and looked down.

"No way, you've got to be kidding me." He recoiled in shock and bolted from the classroom, his footsteps fading into the distance, eventually drowned out by the wind.

The curtain gripped in his trembling hand swayed slightly. With legs shaking uncontrollably, Michihiko approached the window.

 Beneath the large elm tree, Hitomi Saito lay sprawled across the brick flowerbed, motionless like a mannequin. She was dead. There was no doubt.

“Ah, ah, ah...” Michihiko stammered, unable to form coherent words. He stumbled out of the classroom, bumping into desks along the way. His hurried pace turned into a run, nearly tripping down the stairs. He was out of breath, but he kept running. He was alive, but Saito was dead.

He had sneaked into the school through a broken side door behind the school building, avoiding the dangerous climb over the front gate. Most students knew about this easy access point. Michihiko learned about it from Nagao.

He couldn't remember how he left the school. He felt like he had returned the same way he came, but his memory was uncertain. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the convenience store on his usual route, breathing heavily.

Laughter echoed from nearby. Leaning against the wall of the store, a fellow student chatted on a cell phone, laughing as if nothing had happened. Just moments ago, their classmate Saito had died, and here was someone laughing. Anger and frustration welled up inside Michihiko, and he clenched his teeth.

As he approached the residential area, he noticed a public phone booth on the sidewalk near the main road. Without hesitation, he dashed inside, lifted the receiver, and pressed the red button, connecting to the operator at 119. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest.

"There's a dead person at Toriya Junior High School... They were murdered."

He hung up before the operator could respond. His hand trembled so much that he couldn't tell if it was from the cold or fear.

When Michihiko arrived home, the porch light was on. His father wasn't back yet. He quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside, hearing the same TV sounds coming from the living room as when he had left.

He crept up the stairs and collapsed onto his bed as soon as he entered his room. With his face pressed against the soft sheets, everything—the night at school, the man who had hit her, Saito jumping out the window—felt like a dream.

He vaguely though about what it would mean to die. If he died, he wouldn't have to go to school, study, or think about anything anymore. It seemed like it would be a relief. Saito chose death. The impulse to jump. The words that pushed her. Come to think of it... He remembered the conversation he overheard after the home economics cooking class in fifth and sixth periods. Three girls stayed behind, discussing the sweets they had made.

"Honestly, it was the worst. Because Hanawa wasn't watching the oven, half of our cupcakes burned," one complained.

"Yeah, I saw that. It was terrible. Did she do it on purpose?" another chimed in.

"Hanawa¹" was Saito's nickname. Someone had pointed out that the picture of a Hanawa in the social studies textbook looked like Saito, and it stuck.

"We only let her watch the oven and clean up because no one wanted to eat anything she touched," a third girl added.

"Totally! Her stuff is gross," another agreed, and they all laughed. Saito wasn't there during their conversation.

"Her face is ugly, just looking at her makes me mad."

"She's skinny, but it's just skin and bones, like a skeleton."

Saito being targeted was nothing new. Michihiko packed his things and left the classroom.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Saito standing outside the door, her head lowered. Inside, the girls' taunts continued, audible even from the hallway. Saito briefly met Michihiko's eyes before quickly looking away and running down the hall.

She had a slightly low nose and freckles, but Michihiko didn't think of Saito as ugly as everyone said. She wasn't bad. She hadn't done anything wrong... he knew that much.

The wind rattled the window, and the clock ticked past 1 in the morning, but Michihiko couldn't sleep. He kept replaying the same scene in his mind: the moment she jumped, as if she had wings, but humans don't have wings, so she fell.

He realized by dawn, with pale light filtering through the curtains, that Saito didn't want to fly. She wanted to fall.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

Even if someone dies, the morning remains the same as always. A cold, February morning. When I stepped outside, my breath froze white. Even with gloves on, my fingertips were cold.

The news of Saito's death was on the morning news. I didn't see it, but my mother hesitantly told me about it after breakfast. Honestly, I didn't know what kind of expression to make, so I kept my head down in silence. Maybe thinking I was shocked by the sudden death of my classmate, my mother peered at my face and asked worriedly, "Do you want to skip school today?"

As soon as I stepped out of the house, I started feeling scared of going to school. It was a vague fear of something that would surely have changed.

I passed by the public phone I had used last night. As soon as I passed the station, a group of students in the same uniform headed in the same direction. I blended in among them.

"Hey, Kanou."

All the things that had been swirling in my head since yesterday flew away with that one voice. I stopped and turned around, and my field of vision was filled with the large figure of my classmate Kenta Nagao. Just looking at his narrowed eyes and his sulky mouth made my heart start trembling.

"Good morning," I greeted him cautiously. Without replying, Nagao asked in a rough tone, "Where's my textbook?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it. I told you to bring my English textbook because I have to answer questions today. I waited for you all night."

I unconsciously hugged my school bag to my chest.

"I'm really sorry. When I was about to leave the house last night, my mom caught me..."

Nagao clicked his tongue.

"Then you should have called me."

"But I was locked in my room and they took my cell phone. I did my homework though, so I'll show you my notes."

Nagao laughed through his nose and then sneered, "That's obvious."

Probably, that's not obvious. Kenta Nagao is tall. He's good at sports. He's not ugly, and he has a cheerful personality. His grades are slightly above the middle of the class. He answers questions confidently, so the teachers like him. He has a lot of friends.

His attitude towards other classmates was normal. So why does he only show his nastiest side to me? It feels unfair. Nagao started walking. I hurried to follow him. I felt like fish poop trailing behind.

"Hey, do you think the police are still here?"

Nagao turned and asked. I immediately realized he was talking about Saito.

"I-I don't know."

"They said they weren't sure if she committed suicide or was killed, so they might still be here. Maybe the principal will talk to us this morning and we won't have any classes."

Nagao buried his nose in his scarf and sighed.

"I bet Saito jumped to her death."

Even though it was about a classmate, it felt like he was talking about some faraway country. It was as if it didn't concern him at all.

"Why do you think it was suicide?"

Nagao shrugged.

"Her face looked like she was deeply troubled and about to die. If you had gone to school to get the textbooks as I told you, you might have seen her jump."

Nagao leaned oddly close to me.

"What if the TV crew shows up? They might interview us, like 'What kind of person was Saito?' We can't tell them she was bullied or that she was ugly and gloomy. What would you say if they asked you?"

I didn't want to answer, but I knew I'd upset Nagao if I didn't. So I said something vague like, "She was a quiet person."

Even when the school gate came into view, there were no TV cameras or reporters. Instead, several teachers were standing along the road near the school, urging students to hurry up and get inside.

Two teachers were also standing at the main gate. The atmosphere was clearly different from usual. They were on edge. The area around the elm tree where Saito had fallen was covered with a blue plastic sheet, and students who tried to get close were chased away by a stern-faced teacher.

We went inside and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. There were few students in the hallways, and many bags left in front of the classrooms, which made me think something was off, but I soon found out why. The door to classroom 2-F had a paper with "No Entry" written in red letters stuck on it, and the teacher from the neighboring class was standing in front of it like a guardian statue.

The neighboring class teacher told us, "Leave your bags in the hallway. There's an emergency assembly, so move to the gym," with a solemn expression.

The gym was extremely noisy. It felt like everyone was talking about Saito. Various voices echoed around, her surname was repeated over and over.

"Did she jump from 2-F's classroom?"

I heard a voice behind me. The uniformed girl had a first-year badge on her chest.

"That's what they say. A senior in my club told me that 2-F's classroom is off-limits. When I came for morning practice, the flowerbed below wasn't covered with plastic yet, so I saw it. The bricks were all red..."

I imagined the blood-stained bricks, and the image of Saito lying like a mannequin overlapped. Nausea welled up. I felt sick.

An order was given from the podium in the gym. Students lined up by grade, class, and attendance number. First, the principal came out and, with a pained expression, announced that Saito had died.

"Hitomi Saito was a very serious and compassionate person..."

I heard sobbing nearby. I glanced over and was surprised. The girl who had said, "Her face is ugly, and just looking at her makes me mad," yesterday was crying with a bright red face. She was sobbing loudly, held by a girl next to her.

I wanted to ask, "Are you really sad?" Everyone in the class ignored her, nobody spoke to her. So why are you sad now that she's dead? What's so sad? It's just hypocritical tears, carried away by the atmosphere. Her crying red face is like that of a lying monkey, despicable.

The emergency assembly ended in about two hours. But only the students of 2-F were told to stay in the gym. Our homeroom teacher and math teacher, Terakado, started speaking with a pale face and red eyes, "I trust all of you."

"I believe 2-F is a class full of compassion and mutual support."

No one was talking.

"Does anyone have any idea why Saito might have died? Did she mention any troubles, or ask for advice?"

Silence reigned in the gym.

"Even the smallest thing is fine. Did anyone notice anything?"

No one said anything. No one could say anything. Such great teamwork. The worst teammates.

Relief spread across Terakado's face. He must have intentionally forgotten that junior high school students are capable of manipulation.

"If you remember anything about Saito, you can tell me anytime."

The talk was over. When we returned to the classroom, the "No Entry" sign was gone. Inside, a small vase of flowers was placed on the desk right in front of the teacher's desk, startling me.

Even though I saw it, it didn't feel real. It still felt like a dream. But Hitomi Saito really was dead. This was reality.

Students took turns peeking out the window. I looked too and saw that the blue plastic covering was completely removed. There were bouquets of flowers where Saito had fallen. Only that area had darker soil compared to the surroundings.

"It's so cold. I feel chills down my spine."

The girl next to me hugged herself and shivered. The girl in front of her turned around.

"Isn't it because the window's open?"

"It feels really creepy... Maybe Saito is nearby."

The girl in front's face immediately stiffened.

"Stop saying creepy things."

"But it feels weird. Even though I didn't interact much with her..."

Most of the class probably has the same excuse. I'm no different. I joined in with everyone in ignoring Saito because I didn't want to be left out. Sometimes I felt a pang of guilt. That unspoken bond. But maybe I was the only one who thought there was any connection. To Saito, we were just "enemies."

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The news of Saito's death was broadcast on TV only the day after it happened. By the next day, even the local news had stopped covering the suicide of the junior high school girl.

I overheard a few female classmates saying that they had been questioned by detectives, but no male students were interviewed. Saito’s desk remained decorated with flowers in the same spot for about two weeks, but it was moved to the corner of the classroom yesterday because of a seating rearrangement. It seemed like it would quietly disappear any day now. Watching this made me sad—the order in which a person's existence fades away: name, memories, recollections. No one mentions Saito's name anymore. Her desk is about to disappear too. This must be the second stage.

I remembered the guy who "pushed" Saito. I'm very curious if he’s been arrested by the police. However, I don't know how to find out. When I called the police, I intentionally said she was "murdered" because I wanted that guy to be arrested.

With the seating rearrangement, I ended up in the second seat from the front on the hallway side, and my day ended without getting used to the feel of the new spot. Although I hadn't settled in, I learned firsthand that it was a cold place because wind would come in when people moved in and out. I didn’t want to be in this seat in the winter ever again.

As I was packing my textbooks into my school bag, someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind. My back shivered, and I turned around cautiously. There was Nagao, grinning broadly.

"Hey, let's go home together."

Even though I was shaking my head in my heart, my lips said, "Sure." I took my wallet out of my bag and put it in my uniform pocket.

"I need to go to the bathroom."

Leaving Nagao behind, I went to the restroom. I locked myself in a stall and checked the contents of my wallet. I only had 300² yen. If we went home together, he would surely ask me to treat him to something. Three hundred yen wasn't much, but there was nothing I could do about it.

When I returned to the classroom, Nagao was joined by Kozai and Miyata. It was the worst trio possible.

"Sorry for taking so long."

The three of them were grinning. Their faces made me feel sick. Pushing aside the bad feeling, I returned to my seat. And then I realized. My bag was missing.

"Have you seen my bag?"

Nagao, still squinting, asked, "What?"

"My bag..."

He tilted his head, pretending ignorance. I knew he'd get mad if I accused or blamed him for hiding it, so I had no choice but to search the classroom. Nagao sat in my chair, laughing and talking with Kozai and Miyata.

No matter how much I searched, my bag wasn't in the classroom. Then I noticed Nagao's gaze. He glanced out the window. Hesitantly, I moved toward the window. I didn’t see my bag outside. It didn’t look like it had been thrown out.

"Oh!"

There it was. Two windows down, on a small ledge of concrete, my bag was sitting there. I could almost reach it if I stretched, but that window was exactly where Saito had jumped from.

Despite feeling uneasy, I approached that window. I leaned out and reached for my bag. The moment I grabbed it, a strong force pushed my back, and the scenery before my eyes swayed.

"Ahh!"

I felt myself falling. Although I was quickly pulled back up, I crouched down by the window, clutching my bag. Cold sweat appeared on my forehead, and my knees trembled. Déjà vu. Hair fluttering in the strong wind. The dull sound after the jump, like in a movie.

In front of me were uniformed legs, surrounding me like a fence.

"We were just messing around, you know."

Nagao asked Kozai and Miyata, who were standing on either side of him, for approval. Two heads that knew nothing but to nod.

"Let's go home."

Leaving me, who was paralyzed with fear, behind, the three left the classroom. They had already forgotten about "going home together."

Only Nagao and those two would do something like this. Unlike Saito, not everyone in the class is my enemy. I'm still better off. Telling myself this, I hugged my bag tightly.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The incident of my bag being hidden happened the day before yesterday. Today, as promised with the words "let's go home together," the four of us have come to a fast-food chain restaurant.

As soon as we left school, Nagao said, "Aren't you hungry? Let's go get something to eat." I only had 180³ yen in my wallet. I wouldn't get my next week's allowance until the beginning of the week. Knowing they would surely demand I pay, I thought it was better to confess upfront rather than saying later that I couldn't pay. "I don't have any money today," I admitted. Nagao muttered, "Hmm," and then, patting my shoulder, said, "That's fine, just come along." Sensing a rare chance that he might actually treat me, I thought it was unusual.

Inside the restaurant, we first took our seats. Nagao said, "I'll go buy," and after taking everyone's orders, went to the counter. He returned with a tray in hand after about three minutes.

On the tray placed on the table were three drinks and three servings of fries. The three of them, excluding me, reached out simultaneously.

"Um, what about mine...?"

At my hesitant plea, Nagao looked surprised.

"But you said you didn't have any money."

I couldn't bring myself to say that I had enough allowance to buy a drink, so I looked down. The three of them talked and drank without paying any attention to me, who couldn't eat anything. The bubbles in their glasses fizzled and popped, and the smell of the fragrant fries made me feel even more miserable, with my mouth filling with saliva and a growing desire to eat.

"You look like you really want to eat."

Nagao, sitting next to me, peered into my face. Then, he picked up one fry and held it out to me as if telling me to eat. I swallowed hard and opened my mouth slightly. Just as I leaned forward, the fry disappeared from in front of me and into Nagao's mouth.

"Did you see that dumb face? Looks just like our dog."

Laughter erupted, and I blushed all the way to my ears, looking down. I tried to laugh along with a "haha..." but it only made my mouth twist awkwardly.

After about fifteen minutes, the food in front of them was gone. That made me feel a little bit better. I checked my watch repeatedly, waiting for it to be 5:30 in the afternoon, and then stood up.

"I have to go now. I have cram school."

Nagao, usually indifferent unless he was being mean, turned to look at me.

"Skip it."

"But if I don't go, they'll call my house. My mom will get mad."

"I'll call the cram school and say I'm your brother."

"I've never done that before..."

Even though I gently refused, Nagao persistently said, "Give me your phone." Reluctantly, I handed him my cellphone, and he immediately called the cram school, falsely saying that he was my brother and that I had a fever and couldn't attend.

"All set. Now, let's all go to the arcade."

The three of them left the restaurant together. I hurriedly returned the trays they had left behind to the counter, trying not to be left behind, and then rushed to catch up with them. At the arcade, I couldn't play because I had no money. I could only watch with envy as they happily played the games.

I don't want to go, I don't want to go. But if I upset Nagao by going against him, I didn't know what kind of mean trick he would pull next. February is ending in about ten days. There's just over a month until the end-of-term ceremony for the third term. When we enter the third year, the classes will change. Once the classes change, I'll probably have less to do with them. It was dark outside, and the wind was cold. Glancing at my watch, I wondered when I could go home and suddenly felt depressed.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

It was past 8 o'clock in the evening. In a corner of the park, under a streetlamp but out of sight from the street, Michihiko sat down, holding his cheek. He had never been hit by his parents since he was born. So being slapped on the cheek was an unimaginable shock.

Nagao, the one who had slapped him, stood towering in front of him like a giant.

Just a little while ago, the four of them had been playing together. At the game center, Nagao had uncharacteristically let Michihiko play with his own money. It was only one game, costing 300 yen, but Michihiko was happy to play even once. Then, as they were about to leave, Nagao demanded Michihiko pay him back for letting him play the game.

Michihiko had a feeling there was a catch when Nagao let him play, so when he was told to pay, he thought, "Of course..." The amount Nagao demanded was 6,000⁴ yen, twenty times the 300 yen.

"I don't have that much money," Michihiko said.

"Tell your parents you want a game and get it from them. Your dad is a doctor, right? You're rich."

His father was strict. Even if he asked for money for a game, his father would surely say no and tell him to manage with his allowance. His mother was kind but relied on his father, and if he asked her for money, she would consult his father. It would be the same result.

"My dad is really strict..."

This wasn't the first time Nagao had demanded money from Michihiko. "I want a CD, but I don't have any money. Can you lend me some?" Nagao had said, and Michihiko had lent him 1,000 yen[5], 2,000 yen, multiple times. But Nagao never repaid him once.

Michihiko didn't like giving him money, but if he didn't, Nagao would immediately get in a bad mood and treat him harshly. So, Michihiko had been withdrawing his savings, which he had been saving since elementary school, to give to Nagao whenever he demanded it. Recently, the demands for money had become more frequent, and his savings had finally reached zero.

"I'm really sorry. I don't have any more savings."

He bowed his head and apologized. It seemed better to say he didn't have it now rather than promising to give it later and not being able to. Even if Nagao got angry, it would be better not to raise his expectations now.

Nagao didn't immediately get angry. There was a long silence. It was unusual. Just as Michihiko raised his head, he was slapped on his right cheek. The impact knocked him down into the bushes.

Nagao looked down at him with eyes as cold as ice.

"How boring," he muttered.

"You're boring. Just looking at your face makes me angry."

Saying this, he suddenly kicked Michihiko's shin. It hurt, really hurt. Michihiko looked at Nagao with a pleading look, hoping he would stop. Behind Nagao, Kozai and Miyata just smirked slightly without moving. They seemed to be laughing. Like a cat toying with a mouse, Nagao kicked Michihiko.

"Hey, hold his hands," Nagao ordered the two.

"Wha-what are you doing?"

Michihiko's hands were held down, making him unable to move. In that position, his belt was undone, and his briefs were pulled down. His lower body felt a chill, and in the next moment, he got goosebumps.

"No, I don't want this. No."

Cold and embarrassed, Michihiko struggled. He had never exposed his lower body in public since he could remember.

"Let's take off his top too and strip him completely naked."

"No, no."

Frantically kicking his legs, Michihiko suddenly felt Nagao move away from him. He was covering his mouth and making a small groaning sound. Sniffling his nose, his palm that he let go of was bright red. Unknowingly, Michihiko seemed to have kicked Nagao in the face.

After spitting out a bloody saliva, Nagao wordlessly kicked Michihiko's groin so hard that it made a thudding sound.

Michihiko couldn't even scream. The pain was so intense he thought he might stop breathing. Shaking off the hands holding him, he clutched his groin, gritting his teeth hard.

While writhing in pain, he got kicked twice more in the stomach. He couldn't breathe properly. Gasping for air like a goldfish out of water, Michihiko's mouth opened and closed.

"Hey, if you go too far, it'll be bad," Miyata said hesitantly. Please stop, stop. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

"Since what happened to Saito, the homeroom teacher is on edge about bullying and stuff," Kozai said, pulling Nagao away from the limp Michihiko. Nagao spat again and stomped on Michihiko's uniform pants.

"Throw these into the pond over there," he ordered. Miyata picked up the uniform. Nagao shook off Kozai and kicked Michihiko's exposed butt.

"Get up. Run around the park like that."

Michihiko heard the words, but he couldn't stand. It hurt too much.

"I said, get up!"

He was stepped on in the stomach with the heel of a shoe, sinking in. Michihiko choked and vomited while lying sideways.

"Gross!" Kozai quickly jumped away. Nagao laughed, saying, "Serves you right," and rhythmically kicked Michihiko's curled-up back. With each kick, his body jerked reflexively. The thought of death crossed his mind. If Nagao kept kicking him like this, he would surely die. He was terrified.

 "Help me!" Michihiko screamed with all his might. Nagao's face, which had been laughing, suddenly changed, and he hurriedly covered Michihiko's mouth.

"Don't shout, you idiot."

With his mouth covered, Michihiko's fear of death multiplied. He bit Nagao's fingers and, with his now free mouth, shouted again, "Help me!"

"I told you to shut up!"

Nagao pushed him down and grabbed his throat. No matter how much he tried to push the hands away, they wouldn't let go. He was strangled with increasing force.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak. It was painful, painful, painful. His head began to fog as he couldn't close his wide-open mouth. His vision blurred.

"If you don't stop, that kid will die," a lazy voice said just before he lost consciousness. The grip on his neck loosened, and a rush of cold air flowed in. Michihiko coughed violently.

"If you want to go to juvie, keep it up," the voice continued. Michihiko, teary-eyed from coughing, looked up. A young man stood beyond the bushes, probably around twenty years old, wearing old jeans and a blue jacket with white stripes. His short hair was blonde, and he was chewing gum, making noise with his mouth.

"Isn't that the uniform from Toriya Junior High?" the man asked. Nagao nodded slightly, his eyes wary of the sudden appearance of the young man.

"About two weeks ago, a girl at your school committed suicide, right? Hitomi Saito. Do you know anyone who was close to her?"

Kozai and Miyata exchanged glances and shook their heads ambiguously.

"What about the girl lying there? Do you know her?"

Michihiko slowly sat up. His stomach and back throbbed with pain. The man's gaze was so blatant and rude that Michihiko wondered where he was looking. When he realized it was at his exposed crotch, Michihiko hurriedly curled up and covered himself with his hands. The man burst out laughing.

"You’re a boy?"

When Michihiko nodded, the man pointed at Nagao and the others, laughing hysterically.

"You guys are messing around with a boy? Even though he's got a dick, do you still get hard? Do you just need a hole to stick it in? You idiots. Are you all gay buddies?"

Nagao's face turned red. The man found his own term "gay buddies" so funny that he kept repeating it, shaking with laughter.

"Get lost, idiot," Nagao shouted at the man, then kicked Michihiko out of spite.

"Hey!" the man shouted, making Nagao flinch. The man's face, which had been laughing, suddenly changed. His fierce glare was intimidating.

"Who do you think you're talking to like that?" he said in a low, slow voice. His look, manner of speaking, and attitude made Michihiko think he might be a yakuza. Nagao's face went pale. The man searched his jeans' back pocket and pulled something out. With a click, a knife blade extended.

"Should I make sure you can't talk back ever again, right here?"

Kozai screamed and ran. Nagao and Miyata quickly followed. Michihiko and the man were left alone in the bushes.

Michihiko didn't want to get involved with a yakuza. He wanted to run away, but without his pants on, he couldn't stand. The man, holding the knife, stepped over the bushes. Michihiko covered his head with his hands and apologized.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

The man squatted down in front of him and tilted his head.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Please don't kill me. Please."

The man murmured, "Ah," then folded the knife and put it back in his pocket. Michihiko slowly lowered his hands covering his head.

"Are you in high school?"

He peered into his face. Michihiko shook his head.

"Are you in eighth grade?" Michihiko nodded slightly.

"Were the guys you were with seniors?" Michihiko shook his head. The man muttered, "Hmm..."

"You're so skinny and small, I thought you were a girl until I saw your dick." The man grabbed Michihiko's wrist and forcibly made him stand up. Then he peered at his crotch.

"And you're not even circumcised. You're such a kid." He shook off the man's hand and covered his groin. His ears turned red. The man laughed.

"What happened to your uniform pants?"

"...Th-they were thrown into the pond."

The man squinted his eyes and furrowed his brow.

"Don't mumble. I can't hear you."

"T-they were thrown into the pond."

It was a large pond with a boat dock. It's unclear where he was thrown.

"Oh well," he muttered, and stood up.

"Just leave your dick lolling."

"N-no, I don't want to."

"It's not about what you want. Whether it's a fight or bullying, you being weak is why they did that to you. If you feel miserable with your dick out, you'll think, 'Damn, I won't lose to them again.'"

"I absolutely don't want to go home like this. Let me borrow your phone. I'll call my mom. Tell her to bring my underwear and pants..."

His cheek was slapped. Before he could even register the slap, he was hit again from the other side.

"You spineless bastard."

Spitting near his ear, the man stepped over the bushes. His figure quickly faded into the distance. Michihiko was dumbfounded. He thought he was going to die, yet even in such misery, he couldn't believe that no one would help him.

He was abandoned, and he felt so lonely that tears flooded his eyes. He curled up and cried like a dog. He was so cold that his body was shivering, and he thought he might freeze to death.

About thirty minutes later, a park patrol officer found him. He was taken to a nearby police station, where he was wrapped in a blanket and given warm milk. His mother, looking frantic, rushed in. She hugged her son tightly, tears streaming down her face.

He lied to the police and his mother, saying he was attacked by a stranger on his way back from cram school. When asked about the man's appearance, he described the blonde yakuza exactly as he was.

It took about an hour to file a report, and once he was finally able to leave the police station, his worried mother took him to the hospital. Since it was his father's workplace, they made a special appointment for him even outside of working hours. His whole body was bruised, and it would take a week to heal. He was kicked like a punching bag, but no bones were broken.

He arrived home at 1 in the morning. Before taking a bath, he looked at his body in the mirror in the washroom and saw that it was covered in bruises. The most prominent was a bruise in the shape of fingers on his neck. Remembering how painful it had been, he felt his body trembling now.

He didn't speak a word about Nagao and the others to anyone. He briefly considered that speaking up might make things easier, but he couldn't imagine they would easily admit to what they had done. While his body had many bruises, there was no evidence that they were from Nagao's kicks.

Even if he mentioned the names of the three and their actions, without evidence, he might end up incurring a lot of resentment The mistreatment he received might escalate even further. Rather than putting himself in such danger, enduring for just one more month until the end of the school year seemed like a better option. Once he entered the third year, there would be a long-awaited class change.

Lying in bed, his bruised stomach and back throbbed with pain. He didn't want to go to school the next day. He didn't want to see Nagao, didn't want to face him. He was sure Nagao would say something.

He wished Nagao would just die. Burn in a fire, get stabbed by a random attacker, or be pushed onto the train tracks. If Nagao wasn't around, he wouldn't have to endure such pain. His mind and heart were completely dark. But all this darkness was because of Nagao.

He might be heading to hell. But that hell would be slightly better than where Nagao and the others were going.

Footnotes:

0. Content warning: bullying, cruelty, physical abuse, suicide, violence.

1. In Japanese, Hanawa "花輪" can refer to a "flower wreath" or a "floral wreath." It is often used in ceremonies, events, or as decorations.

2. Around $1.86 USD.

3. Around $1.12 USD.

4. Around $37.29 USD.

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