Smiling at the Moon: Volume 1 - Chapter 1 - part 2

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

At the end of February, Saito's desk, which had been in the corner of the classroom, was cleared out. With this, Saito's existence lost its place, except in memories.

At 8:20, five minutes before morning homeroom started, Michihiko arrived at school as usual. When he made eye contact with the student in the seat in front of him and greeted them with a "Good morning," the student turned to the blackboard with a displeased look. They didn’t respond and instead started whispering to the student next to them.

"I got greeted by Kanou this morning. How annoying."

Michihiko was hurt by the harsh words over just a simple greeting. An invisible wound, deepening in his heart.

Gradually, over the past ten days since Nagao had beaten him, Michihiko’s classmates began to avoid him. They would say things like "He's creepy" or "He's weird" within earshot. They had replaced Saito with Michihiko as their target. The ones who nominated him for this role were surely Nagao and his gang.

Whenever Michihiko heard laughter, he felt like they were laughing at him. When people whispered, he worried they were talking bad about him. He had known for a long time that his classmates were the worst. He couldn't trust anyone. They were all hypocrites and liars.

He wished March would end quickly so he could say goodbye to them. Then he wouldn't have to think about all these unnecessary things.

The bell rang. The homeroom teacher entered the classroom. Morning homeroom was about to start. Michihiko felt relieved. When homeroom or classes started, the amount of whispering decreased. There were fewer overt insults. His paranoia could take a break until the next recess.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

It was a cold day with continuous rain since morning. Michihiko walked quickly down the main street in front of the station, under a blue umbrella.

Since he left the school's main gate, Nagao and his gang had been following him. Whether he walked quickly or slowly, the distance between them didn’t change. It felt creepy.

Around the corner was the building with the cram school. They probably wouldn’t chase him inside. Just as he was almost at the entrance, he heard someone call his name, "Kanou."

"Come hang out with us, Kanou."

Michihiko turned around slowly to see Nagao grinning. It was the first time in about two weeks Nagao had spoken to him. When Michihiko didn’t respond, Nagao suddenly kicked his sneaker.

"You've been ignoring us lately. You always go straight home after school."

"...I have cram school."

"You’re smart enough without studying. You don’t need to be so intense about it. Come hang out with us today."

Painful and embarrassing memories of the park resurfaced. He didn't know what they would do next. He was on full alert.

"Let's hang out."

Nagao lightly tapped Michihiko's shoulder. With a friendly smile and unusually pleasant demeanor, Michihiko almost believed Nagao really wanted to be friends.

But... Michihiko shook his head strongly. There was no way that was true. This was Nagao's trick.

"I don't want to skip cram school. So I can't hang out."

Nagao's cheerful face turned grim at those words.

"You hate us, don't you, Kanou?"

He did hate them, but it was hard to admit it when confronted directly.

"That's not it..."

"You misunderstand us, don’t you? We should talk things over. Let’s go over there."

Nagao glanced towards an alley. If he was dragged into a deserted place, it would be over. Michihiko hurriedly bowed and apologized, "I'm really sorry," and ran towards the cram school entrance.

Just before entering the building, his arm was grabbed. The grip was merciless. He was yanked back, dropping his umbrella, and couldn’t even pick it up as he was dragged away, getting wet.

"No, no, I don't want to!"

When he resisted, Nagao threatened, "I said we're just going to talk," and when Michihiko flinched, he kicked his sneaker again.

"Hey, you guys."

Nagao's movements stopped abruptly.

"Aren't you from Toriya Junior High School? I have something to ask you."

The drawn-out voice sounded familiar

"About a month ago at your school..."

The man with blond hair holding a clear vinyl umbrella and wearing a blue jacket with white stripes tilted his head mid-sentence.

"Huh? I feel like I've seen you before."

As soon as he said that, Nagao and his gang scattered like spiders. The man muttered, "What the hell was that?" and then looked down at the drenched Michihiko. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.

"You, you're that flasher from before?"

Being called a "flasher" out of nowhere in the middle of the street, Michihiko turned red. "Did you go home with your dick out after that?"

The man asked gleefully. Michihiko clenched his mouth tightly.

"The police helped me!"

The man nodded slightly.

"So you went crying to the cops, saying your dick was cold, and borrowed a hat to cover yourself?"

"The police lent me a jacket."

The man shrugged. "That's boring," he said, which made Michihiko think this guy was a foolish and heartless thug.

"Those guys were the ones who beat you up, right? Were they bothering you again?"

Michihiko hugged his school bag and looked down.

"You get bullied because you have no guts. Idiot."

Instead of sympathy, being called an idiot made Michihiko angry.

"It's not my fault!"

"It's not about right or wrong. You're getting bullied because you're weak. That's just how the world works."

When Michihiko protested, "That's not fair," the man confidently replied, "What's not fair about it?"

"You're weak and spineless, so you get bullied. That's exactly you. If you want to be a winner, fight back. Cling on until you crush them."

Michihiko was drawn to the man's intense gaze. He knew this guy was a thug and a bad person. What he was saying was ridiculous, and solving problems with violence was wrong. Even so, Michihiko couldn’t deny that he found him cool.

A ringtone interrupted them. The man hurriedly pulled out his cell phone from his jacket.

"Yes, it's me. Yes, yes... I'll be back at the office soon. Yes."

After ending the call, the man searched his jacket and jeans pockets and clicked his tongue. Their eyes met.

"Can you lend me some money? Just a thousand yen."

Michihiko hesitated, feeling like he would never get it back. The man impatiently snatched Michihiko's school bag, took out his wallet, and grabbed the thousand yen allowance he had just received. Shoving the bill into his jacket pocket, the man glanced down at Michihiko.

"Don't look at me like that. I said I’d pay you back. We're in this together. I chased off those bullies for you."

He shoved the bag back at Michihiko.

"See you."

The man turned and walked quickly towards the station. After his figure disappeared, Michihiko realized he didn't even know the man's name or phone number. The man didn’t ask Michihiko's name either. There was no way such a person would return the money.

Michihiko realized much later that the man never intended to pay him back from the start.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

The next day, as usual, Michihiko entered the classroom five minutes before the morning homeroom started. He immediately moved his textbooks and notebooks from his bag to his desk. While some students left their heavy books in their desks at school, Michihiko took his home every day to avoid Nagao and his friends' pranks. They had been doodled on multiple times, and his things had gone missing more than once.

"Hey," Nagao called out to him. Given what had happened yesterday, Michihiko braced himself for whatever Nagao might say.

"Are you friends with that yakuza?"

The girl in the seat in front glanced over at him.

"That thug with the blond hair is a yakuza, isn't he?"

The image of the man he had lent a thousand yen to, whose name he didn't even know, popped into his head.

"I don't know him," Michihiko replied.

"But he knew you."

Remembering the lying man's advice, "If you want to be a winner, fight back. Cling on until you crush them," Michihiko clenched his fists tightly.

"Shut up. I said I don't know him!" he shouted.

Nagao blinked twice, his mouth half-open in surprise. His expression began to contort, but just then, the bell rang, and their homeroom teacher entered the classroom. Nagao glared fiercely at Michihiko before returning to his seat.

Michihiko held his chest, his heart pounding as if it would leap out. He had defied Nagao for the first time. He had resisted. Even though it was just words, he had won.

But that sense of satisfaction only lasted until lunchtime. Feeling unusually bold, Michihiko went alone to the rooftop when Nagao called him out to talk. Predictably, he was surrounded and beaten by Nagao, Koizumi, and Miyata. He tried to fight back, but when it came down to it, he couldn't even properly clench his fist to punch.

The violence finally stopped with the bell signaling the end of lunch break. Curled up in a corner of the rooftop, crying, Michihiko endlessly cursed the blond yakuza who had led him to defy Nagao.

He tried to attend the fifth period class but felt sick halfway down the stairs and ran to the bathroom to throw up. As he vomited, he became overwhelmed with sadness and spent an hour in the bathroom sniffling.

By the sixth period, Michihiko finally returned to the classroom. He couldn't even bring himself to look in Nagao's direction anymore.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

On March 5th, it was the graduation ceremony, and school was only in the morning. After returning home for a while, Michihiko left the house in the evening to go to cram school. The weather was bad, with a cold north wind blowing. He wrapped his scarf around his face and walked slowly. Even though it was just past five o'clock, it was already pitch dark outside, like night.

There were twenty days left until spring break, two weeks and six days. Michihiko earnestly wished that tomorrow would already be the start of the spring break. Lately, he was afraid to go to school. Nagao would always drag Michihiko to secluded places and resort to violence. He tried to stay where there were people around, but kicks and punches would still come at the slightest opportunity.

He thought he could endure it until spring break because he believed it would end then. If he ended up in the same class as Nagao in the third year... he tried not to think about it. Because he seriously felt like he wanted to die.

Michihiko noticed the man about ten meters before the building where the cram school was located. He wore a blue jacket with a white stripe. He always saw the same blond yakuza in the same outfit. He calls out "Hey!" to every junior high school student who is about to enter the cram school.

Michihiko watched the man's movements from the shadow of a building. He waited until the last minute before the lecture started, but the man showed no sign of moving from in front of the cram school. Michihiko had no choice but to cover half his face with the scarf, lower his head, and run past the man.

Because of that guy's clumsy lesson, he had a terrible experience. He didn't think he would get his thousand yen back. On the contrary, he felt like he might be extorted for more money if he was found. He didn't want to be involved anymore.

"Hey!" Passing by the man's side, Michihiko ignored him and rushed into the building. He didn't think the man would follow him inside, so when he felt his shoulder being grabbed in front of the elevator, he honestly felt startled.

"Don't ignore me," the man said angrily. Michihiko covered his head with both hands, feeling like he might be hit. The man clicked his tongue and muttered, " What an annoying guy," and impatiently thrust his hands into Michihiko's pockets.

"I returned the money," the unexpected words made Michihiko lower his hands covering his face. From his pocket, a neatly folded thousand yen bill actually came out.

"What's with that face? Did you think I wouldn't return it?" the man said. Although it was true, Michihiko shook his head and said, "No." The man smirked and pinched Michihiko's cheek tightly.

"Well, I was thinking that you had skipped town if I never saw you again," Michihiko's cheek stung. If he saw him again, he would return it, but he might not return it if he didn't. It's selfish. But if he came after him and returned it properly... maybe this guy isn't so bad after all.

"It's warm in here. It's freezing outside. I'm hungry too..." The man glanced at the thousand yen bill in Michihiko's right hand.

"Treat me to something. You're rich, aren't you?"

"Huh..."

"Let's go to McDonald's. Come on."

After just getting his money back, being asked to treat him made Michihiko feel like the purpose of getting his money back was lost. But he couldn't go against the strange man, so he ended up going to the nearby McDonald's with him.

The man boldly ordered a combo meal, and as Michihiko smelled the food, he started feeling hungry too and ordered the same. Before paying, when he looked at the clock in the store, it was well past 6 in the afternoon, the time when the cram school started. If he skipped class, his mother would be contacted by the cram school. He didn't mind being scolded by his mother; he just felt like skipping today, that kind of mood.

The man chose a seat by the window, smoking a cigarette while looking outside. When Michihiko placed the tray with the hamburger on the table, the man immediately reached out and devoured it in three bites. His unsatisfied gaze also eagerly focused on Michihiko's hamburger, and when Michihiko offered it, the man quickly finished it as well.

After the meal, there was no conversation between Michihiko and the man. He didn't know what to talk about, and he didn't even know the man's name.

"Are you a yakuza?" Michihiko asked as the man who had been looking out the window turned around.

"Well, sort of," the man replied. Michihiko didn't find it too scary since he had probably already assumed the man was a yakuza.

"I don't have a badge, though."

"A badge?"

"When you become important, you get a badge. Don't you know that?"

"I think most people don't know..." Michihiko wanted to say, but he didn't. As he ate his fries quietly, the man gestured with his index finger. Michihiko leaned in.

"I can't say this loudly, but you know the Shima organized-crime syndicate​, right? I'm a member of the group that controls this area."

When Michihiko said he didn't know, the man looked disappointed.

"I'm a member of that group. Still just a lackey, though."

"Oh, I see..." Michihiko murmured, and the man asked, "What do you mean by that?" as he kicked Michihiko's leg under the table. Surprised, Michihiko checked the man's expression, but he didn't seem genuinely angry.

"Do yakuza kill people?"

"Huh?" The man furrowed his brows and made a face as if he was making fun of Michihiko.

"If they did that, they'd end up in jail, idiot."

"So, you never kill anyone?"

The man became serious and looked down.

"Well, it depends on the situation. If the boss tells you to kill someone, you have no choice."

Michihiko had the image that yakuza were a group of people who didn't hesitate to do bad things like violence or killing, so the man's words felt strangely off.

"Damn, it's snowing," the man said, looking outside, and clicked his tongue shortly. The white snow was falling gently.

"I hate snow," he grumbled, kicking the table leg irritably, making the paper cup on the tray sway. The man next to us, holding a half-eaten burger tray, moved towards the back of the restaurant. Michihiko looked around, wondering what was happening, and noticed that there were suddenly many empty seats around them.

It might be because they were talking about yakuza. The glances he felt around him. The rude man was being looked at as if he were something scary, but Michihiko didn't find the man scary. He was starting to feel less scared.

"I got beaten up by those guys again the other day," Michihiko said, and the man muttered, "Hmm," seeming uninterested.

"If I told you to take care of those guys if I paid you, would you do it?"

The man raised one eyebrow.

"It depends on the amount."

"How much would be enough?"

"Ten million¹."

The man said it calmly. The exorbitant price made Michihiko bite his lip.

"That's too much."

"Then give up."

"I don't want to."

There was a smack. After the pain, his right cheek went numb.

"You should be able to take care of your own problems. Don't ask others to do it for you, you idiot."

His mouth trembled. He couldn't understand being hit.

"What's this? A scam."

The man furrowed his brow deeply.

"That's what yakuza do for money, right?"

He was slapped on the left cheek, much harder than when he was hit on the right cheek. The impact almost made Michihiko fall off his chair.

"You rotten brat, talking back. You're the one causing trouble."

Always being hit, always being kicked. Always the one experiencing unpleasant things, always the one in pain. Tears welled up in his eyes. Even if he bit his lip, they wouldn't stop. When he looked down, there was a puddle of water on the table.

"It's not my fault. I didn't say anything bad, didn't bully anyone. But those guys still get annoyed when they see me and hit me. Even if I fight back, I can't win..."

"The fact that they find your face annoying and that you can't win in a fight is your fault, not mine."

Feeling like everything was his fault, Michihiko was pushed to the depths of despair. He forgot where he was, raised his voice, and cried loudly. His head and his mind were pitch black.

After crying for a while, he was grabbed by the arm and forced to stand up. With a face soaked in tears and snot, he was dragged out of the restaurant. The man took Michihiko to the park where they first met and pushed him into the bushes.

"Stand up," the man lightly shook Michihiko's chin.

"Stand up and get ready."

Michihiko didn't understand what the man was saying.

"When you fight, you need to be in a fighting stance."

He didn't know about that. Despite not knowing, Michihiko vaguely remembered and tried to mimic a boxer's fighting pose.

"What's that?" The man approached and lightly slapped Michihiko's right hand.

"Don't clench your thumb inside your hand. You'll break it," the man warned. Michihiko quickly opened his hand, readjusting his grip to align his index and middle fingers.

"Now, come at me," the man challenged.

"I-Is it okay?" Michihiko hesitated.

"Just come at me already," the man urged.

With a shout, Michihiko lunged at the man. The man effortlessly dodged Michihiko's attack, causing him to stumble headfirst into the bushes. The man chuckled.

"You can't hit someone like that. Watch your opponent's movements, brace yourself, and put power into your right hand," the man instructed.

Perhaps realizing that jumping straight into a real fight was too much, the man used his palm as a target and instructed Michihiko to strike it. As Michihiko repeated punching the man's palm, he gradually felt a sense of resistance, like grasping at clouds.

"When facing a strong opponent, aim for their groin or stomach. Fighting isn't martial arts. In the end, winning is what matters, so targeting the opponent's weak spots is essential," the man explained.

Due to the movement, Michihiko didn't feel cold at all. In fact, he found it exciting and thrilling.

"By targeting the stomach or groin, you can stop your opponent's movements. Aim there and crush them in one go. That's how you usually win fights. Remember that. Also, focus on the power of your punches," the man continued, grabbing Michihiko's arm and sighing.

"You really lack muscle. Even if your punch form is good, you lack power. Alright, from now on, do one hundred push-ups every day."

"A hundred push-ups..." Michihiko exclaimed.

"What's the problem? You want to beat that guy, right? Doing a hundred push-ups a day shouldn't be a big deal," the man said in a tone that wasn't too harsh, and Michihiko nodded in agreement.

"Even if it's just a bluff, shout loudly to intimidate. If your opponent gets scared, it gives you an advantage. There are other ways to impress, but with your face, you lack that imposing presence," the man advised, lightly slapping Michihiko's cheek with the back of his hand. It made a sound but didn't hurt.

"Damn, it's snowing again," the man looked up at the sky and clicked his tongue. The snow, which had momentarily stopped, started falling again.

"Let's go back," the man said, stepping over the bushes and walking. Michihiko hurriedly followed. At the park entrance, the man bought a can of coffee from a vending machine and asked Michihiko what he wanted.

When Michihiko said he wanted milk tea, the man complained, "Drinking such a girly drink," but handed him a warm can, which made Michihiko feel unexpectedly happy.

Sitting on a nearby bench, the man said, "Report to me if you win against that guy."

"Okay," Michihiko replied. The man grinned. Despite his quick temper, the man smiled often.

"Tell me your phone number, so you can report to me when you win," the man requested.

Michihiko turned on his phone and saw several missed calls from his mother and a voicemail message. Without responding, he saved the man's number in his phone.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"I'm Kanou Michihiko²," Michihiko replied.

"That's quite a pompous name," the man remarked with a serious expression.

"What's your name?" Michihiko inquired.

"Mmm, Yamada Shinji," the man muttered. Michihiko had imagined a tough yakuza-like name with characters like dragon or tiger, so the ordinary name felt a bit anticlimactic.

"How old are you, Mr. Yamada?" Michihiko asked.

"Don't call me by my last name, it's lame," the man snapped, then Michihiko quickly corrected himself, "Mr. Shinji."

"I'm eighteen," the man replied. Only four years apart, yet Yamada Shinji seemed much more mature than Michihiko.

"When did you become a yakuza?" Michihiko asked.

"...Was it when I was sixteen? Well, around that time. Why are you asking me that?" the man responded.

Honesty compelled Michihiko to say, "Out of curiosity." That was the only way to put it.

"You're interested in yakuza?" the man raised an eyebrow.

More so, Michihiko was curious about " Yamada Shinji" himself, but he also had an interest in yakuza. So he replied, "Yes." Yamada shrugged.

"Stop it, stop it. Being a yakuza isn't a good business. The pay is low, you're targeted by the police, and the hierarchy is strict. It's tough for a weakling like you," Yamada warned.

"...I'm not a w-weakling," Michihiko stuttered.

The man burst into laughter. Then, knowing Michihiko disliked it, he deliberately teased, " Kanou Michihiko."

"Stop it," Michihiko protested.

"If you can't handle it, just being 'Michihiko' is enough," the man laughed as he stood up. Michihiko followed to make sure he wasn't left behind. By the time they returned near the cram school, Michihiko's phone rang. It was his mother calling, precisely at the time when the cram school session ended.

"Hello, it's Michihiko," Michihiko answered, and his mother started crying as soon as she heard his voice.

"I'm sorry for not contacting you. I didn't feel like going to cram school today, so I was studying at the library. That's why I couldn't turn on my phone..." As Michihiko stood still talking, he realized that Yamada was no longer there.

"Michihiko, are you there?" his mother's voice seemed distant. No matter how hard he looked in the snow, Yamada Shinji hadn't vanished like magic.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

I did push-ups every night. At first, I could only do twenty, but after a week, with lots of breaks, I managed to do a hundred. I also practiced punching a pillow. As I steadily prepared for my match against Nagao, the day finally came on the tenth day of training.

During lunch break, after eating my school lunch, I left the classroom to go to the library. As I walked out, I saw Nagao and two others standing by the window across the hallway, deep in conversation. I tried to ignore them and walk past, but then I was called out, "Kanou."

"We need to talk, come over here," they said.

I knew it wasn't anything good. As I hesitated to approach, I was surrounded by the three of them in an instant.

"I want a game, but I don't have enough pocket money. Just lend me what you have now, I'll return it later," Nagao demanded.

A month ago, I would have given it to him out of fear of retaliation. But I was different now. I lifted my head, glaring at my enemies.

"No."

Immediately, Nagao's expression hardened.

"Absolutely not."

He grabbed my arm, and without a word, dragged me up the stairs. Once we reached the rooftop, he pushed me forcefully. The wind was strong outside, and sleet-like snow was falling. It was cold, and there were no other students around.

"You better just do as we say quietly," Nagao threatened.

I stood up, glaring back at Nagao.

"Who do you think you are to ask for a loan? You've never returned anything you borrowed before," I retorted.

As Nagao approached, I hunched my back, clenched my fists, and got into a fighting stance. Just as the burly Nagao reached out, following Yamada's teachings, I kicked his groin.

Nagao froze in his tracks, almost like a stop-motion animation. As he staggered forward, I kicked him hard in the back.

"You bastard!"

Filled with pent-up resentment, I kicked him again. But the satisfaction from those two kicks was short-lived as I missed the third kick. Nagao's cronies, Kosai and Miyata, were now holding me from behind.

"Let go, let go!"

They pinned me down on the concrete rooftop. As they held me down, Nagao stood up, glaring at me with anger in his eyes.

"Don't mess around!"

His quiet voice carried a strong sense of anger. He pressed his sneaker against my face, rubbing it against the concrete. My face stung.

"Hey, stop with the face. It's too noticeable. If the teacher sees it, we're in trouble," Kosai warned.

"Shut up!" Nagao shouted, and Kosai's hand, holding me down, trembled.

"But seriously..."

Miyata muttered.

"Get out of the way," Nagao pushed Kosai and Miyata aside, then kicked my back and stomach as I lay face down. It was merciless. I was like a human punching bag, rolling back and forth on the concrete. As I neared the fence, the yellow soles of his sneakers approached my face.

"Lick it."

He pushed his shoe forcefully against my mouth.

"Okay, okay, stop... please stop."

I turned my face away, pretending to submit, then grabbed Nagao's ankle with both hands and bit into his calf as hard as I could.

"Ouch, that hurts... it hurts..."

Nagao collapsed from the pain, landing on his rear. I stood up, clenched my fists, and screamed as loudly as I could. Kosai and Miyata looked surprised.

"Do you think it's okay to do this to me? I have... I have the Shima Group backing me up. If I ask them, you guys will be in big trouble," I threatened.

At the mention of yakuza, the three of them paled.

" t's really... really going to be a beating. Remember that."

"Don't lie," Nagao shouted.

"It's not a lie. If you think it is, go ask the Shima Group. There's a guy named Yamada in the Shima Group, he's there, he's really there."

Nagao and his friends didn't come any closer. I slowly backed away, escaping from the rooftop. My stomach and face hurt from the kicks. When I looked at my face in the boys' restroom mirror, I saw blood from the scrapes on my forehead and nose.

I went to the school nurse's office to get my scrapes disinfected. When asked what happened, I said I fell down the stairs, and the nurse didn't question it. I lay on the bed for an hour, feeling sore from the bruises all over.

I returned to class for the sixth period. The scrapes were noticeable, and since it was my homeroom teacher's class, I was asked, "What happened to your face?" I gave the same excuse, "I fell down the stairs."

Nagao didn't look at me. I felt like he was intentionally avoiding eye contact with me.

◇:*:◆:*:◇

After school, I called Yamada Shinji's cellphone as I walked out of school. It was the first time I'd called since he gave me his number.

"Hello..."

"Is this Shinji? It's me... Kanou Michihiko."

"Yeah... What?"

Even over the phone, I could sense Yamada's displeasure.

"I wanted to talk..."

"I'm busy."

"Um... Can we talk after you're done with your stuff, even for a little while?"

"Okay then."

The call hung up abruptly. I thought about calling him back, but I felt like I'd be treated even worse than I was, so I decided not to. Cellphone use is prohibited within the school premises according to the rules. So, I eagerly awaited the end of the school day today. I wanted to call Yamada after school. I wanted to talk about standing up to Nagao, about how I couldn't win but managed to hold my ground to a draw. I just couldn't wait to talk.

So, during my cram school lecture, when I noticed a call from Yamada, I was overjoyed. I made up an excuse about feeling unwell and sneaked out of the classroom to call back from the restroom.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I've been busy," Yamada said, his tone no longer displeased.

"No problem. Shinji, can we meet up?"

"Meeting up is a bit difficult. Let's talk over the phone."

"I'd rather meet in person to talk."

"Don't be so demanding, Michihiko," Yamada chuckled.

"Well, where are you now?"

Unable to say I was skipping class to call him, I lied, "Near the McDonald's we went to last time."

"Alright, wait for me inside the store. It shouldn't take more than thirty minutes, but I'll be there."

Excited, I left the cram school early and went to McDonald's. However, Yamada arrived over an hour later.

As usual, Yamada, in his blue and white jacket, appeared at the store looking extremely displeased. Even when he sat across from me, he didn't say a word. His bad mood wasn't just in his attitude; his face was bruised and swollen, looking like a ragged cloth.

After smoking a cigarette for about ten minutes, Yamada finally looked at me. His eyes widened in surprise.

"What happened to your face?"

Ignoring his own situation, Yamada pointed at my face and laughed.

"Shh, Shinji, you look awful too."

"Well, mine... I had a big brawl, so it couldn't be helped. What about you? Did you get into another fight and get beaten up?"

Unable to retort, I fell silent, and he laughed, calling me weak. Yamada took out two thousand yen from his pocket and placed it on the table.

"Hey, Michihiko. Go buy me a triple burger set menu with this. And a coffee as a drink. You can order whatever you like."

Following his instructions, I bought the set menu. When I tried to return the change, he said, "Consider it pocket money." Handling money back and forth, Yamada seemed moody.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

With his ragged face, smoking a cigarette, he asked.

"I do push-ups properly. I can do a hundred now. But it's all your fault."

The man furrowed his brow and said, "Huh?" and jerked his chin.

"I could have won if there was only one opponent. But you didn't tell me how to fight against three people."

Yamada's mouth hung open, then suddenly, he burst into loud laughter, causing people around us to turn and look.

"Oh, sorry about that."

After laughing heartily and shaking his shoulders, Yamada leaned forward on the table and lowered his voice.

"When there are many opponents, you use tools."

"Tools?"

"Like wooden swords or sticks. When there are three opponents against one, it's unfair. Winning is about numbers. So, you make up for that with tools."

I could only respond with a confused " Uh huh..."

"Not 'uh,' that's the solution."

Yamada leaned back in his chair as if the conversation was over, munching on his hamburger. Suddenly, his expression turned sour, and he clicked his tongue.

"Even the inside of my mouth is cut too."

"But I can't bring big tools like wooden swords to school."

"Just hide them in your locker." Seemingly annoyed, Yamada spat out his words.

"I can't fit anything in my locker. Plus, if a teacher finds it, they'll confiscate it."

"Stop whining. Use any tool you can. Even a pencil or a pen can be jabbed into the opponent's thigh."

Just thinking about a pencil stuck in his thigh sent chills down my spine. Even though I was just sitting there, my knees felt cold.

"I don't want to use a pencil."

I clenched both hands on my knees.

"And if I did that, the teacher would find out and get angry."

I was hit on the head. When I looked up, Yamada was leaning back and looking at me with a smug look.

"What are you scared of? All the teachers are just crazy rotten dicks. They're not worth giving lectures to people."

I choked loudly on the smoke that was exhaled.

"But pencils aren't all that cool, are they?"

With a clang, something was tossed on the table.

"Here, I'll give it to you."

I gulped and picked up a small folding knife. My heart pounded. It was small, but heavy.

"It's cheap, though."

"H-how do you use it?"

He was hit on the head again. Yamada snatched the knife from Michihiko's hand and held it in his right hand. The tip of the blade appeared like magic. On top of the half-eaten fries.

"Isn't it cool? To bring out the tip, you press the jagged part here."

The tip was quickly put away and handed back to him again. Michihiko kept sticking out and retracting the tip of the knife, just like Yamada had done, and Yamada yelled at him, "Stop messing around." He hurriedly put it away in his uniform pocket.

"Try threatening them with that next time."

I nodded and Yamada grinned. I felt like I'd been given something amazing, and I was happier than when I got 100 points on a test.

Even after we went outside, I kept my hand in my pocket, touching the knife. "Perfect," I thought to myself.

"How far are you going to follow me?"

As we walked after leaving the store, I found myself trailing behind Yamada. Before I knew it, the surroundings had turned into a lively bar district with colorful signs.

"You should go home."

His tone was curt, making me suddenly feel lonely as if I had been pushed away.

"Let's hang out."

"I'm busy. I'm not like a middle schooler who has nothing to do."

"Y-You're a yakuza, though."

I was slapped on the cheek. Then, the other side was hit too.

"Don't talk back. Brat."

Yamada quickened his pace. I hurried to catch up.

"I'm sorry."

I clung to him, but he brushed me off as if swatting away a fly.

"I'm really sorry."

Yamada, who had been walking ahead, stopped and turned around. He grabbed my collar.

"Stop repeating 'I'm sorry.' It's annoying."

"S-Sorry. Um... Where are we?"

Yamada sighed in exasperation, then started walking back the way he came at a rapid pace. We reached a familiar street along the way, but I couldn't admit that I knew the way back.

As we entered a park and were about to cross through it, Yamada suddenly stopped. He wanders into the dark shade of a tree. Following him, I saw Yamada crouched on all fours a short distance away in the shadows.

"What are you doing?"

Yamada turned around, grabbed my coat, pulled me down to the ground, and covered my mouth. With my mouth covered, he gestured with his eyes towards a spot about ten meters away. There, under the trees, an adult man and woman were leaning against a tree, intimately entwined.

"Even in this cold weather, they're going at it."

Yamada's voice was low and sticky.

"Watch quietly. It's the real deal, uncensored."

His hand, smelling of cigarettes, moved away. I could see them from the shadows. The man lying on top of her, a man about his father's age, moved his hips.

"She's old, but she's got a big chest."

The man kneaded the breasts of a woman in her thirties. He sucked them as if they were delicious. Michihiko’s throat made a gulping noise. Every time he swallows, he makes a noise.

"…You're so noisy. It's distracting, you know," Yamada whispered angrily.

"But... but..."

"You've seen adult videos before, right? Well, with those old ladies, it's just a matter of whether you can get off or not."

Michihiko looked down. The sound of heavy breathing coming from beside him grew louder. When he looked over, he saw Yamada on all fours, rubbing his penis that he had pulled out through the zipper.

"It's so cold that even my dick isn't feeling up to it."

Exhaling white breath, for some reason, he suddenly smacked Michihiko's head.

"You should do it too. Or is it that you can't get hard with those old ladies?"

Michihiko looked down, feeling embarrassed and small. His crotch was throbbing, but he didn't want to touch himself in public... It was embarrassing.

"Aren't you cold?"

"What?"

"With that exposed."

"Of course it's cold. But if I don't take it out, I can't do it."

With a sharp gasp, the woman clung to the man. Yamada's movements became more intense, and he shook his back slightly while groaning softly. The pungent smell, the white cloudy palm. It was the first time Michihiko had seen someone doing it, let alone the result. Yamada suddenly rubbed his dirty palm on Michihiko's coat.

"What the... what are you doing?"

"You'll catch a cold if you stay wet, you know."

As he hurriedly rubbed his own coat, semen trailed behind. With no handkerchief or tissue in sight, Michihiko was at a loss, fidgeting, not knowing what to do. Seeing Michihiko's confusion, Yamada laughed. While laughing, he tucked his penis back into his jeans. Then, without washing his hands, he lit a cigarette. In the meantime, the couple beyond the trees had disappeared.

"That woman might be loose down there. She had that look of someone who loves it."

Michihiko could tell which part of the woman's body Yamada was referring to. Blushing, he looked down.

"Why are you blushing? Is this your first time seeing outdoor sex?"

He nodded slightly.

"We did something good, you know."

Not understanding the meaning, Michihiko looked up.

"They did it outside in this cold weather. They're exhibitionist perverts. Those kinds of guys get excited when they're being watched. That's why we went out of our way to look."

It sounded like a crazy rationale, but Michihiko couldn't argue against it.

"Is that what sex is...?"

He asked tentatively.

"You saw the penis going in, didn't you?"

He did see it, but it felt different somehow.

"Standing up like that, it's... like animals."

"We're animals too, you idiot."

"But... but, if we don't do it properly..."

Yamada tilted his head.

"What do you mean by 'properly'?"

"If it's not done in bed, it's not proper sex."

Yamada burst into the loudest laughter he had ever heard. Holding his stomach, he chuckled.

"You're like a virgin, saying stuff like that. You probably think the first time should be at a hotel overlooking the sea, right?"

"...Is that wrong?"

After bursting into laughter, Yamada patted Michihiko on the shoulder and said, "You're the best."

"But I've never seen that before... It's my first time seeing something like that... I've never watched adult videos or read erotic books..."

"So how have you been getting off until now?"

Avoiding Yamada's gaze, Michihiko looked down.

"I... I didn't really... need to do that..."

"You're not a little kid anymore. It's abnormal not to have masturbated by junior high. Bad things build up inside you."

Being called abnormal made Michihiko suddenly anxious. When he saw the sex scene, he felt a throbbing sensation in his lower body. The urge to touch his penis was there, but as he sat still, that throbbing sensation gradually faded away. While he was interested in seeing naked people and sex, he didn't feel the need to seek out books or videos to watch them. He thought that was something to do when he was older.

"Does everyone really masturbate now?"

He asked, half in disbelief.

"Of course they do. Aren't we all horny? Isn't your head just filled with thoughts of boobs and pussy?"

"That's weird. I find manga and games more interesting than that."

The man snorted and pointed at Michihiko.

"I see. Even though you're fourteen, your mind is that of a little kid. You haven't grown up at all."

Despite soon entering the third year of junior high, being told his mind was that of a little kid shocked Michihiko. Even though he was among the top five in his class, being called a little kid... His agitation must have shown on his face, as Yamada patted his shoulder.

"You can still turn things around from being a little kid. I'll lend you an uncensored DVD so you can study the beauty of women and become an adult."

Michihiko nodded.

"Um, do I watch it at my own house?"

"It's fine at my place too. But you have to return it for sure."

Michihiko shook his head nervously.

"I probably can't watch it at home. The DVD player is only in the living room, and I'm always sent to my room to sleep by eleven."

Yamada looked down at Michihiko in disbelief.

"Just wait until everyone's asleep at night and then watch it."

"My mom is sensitive. The slightest sound will wake her up..."

"Then go to a friend's house. Watch what the others are doing and study."

Michihiko looked down.

"I don't have any friends."

Yamada sighed and scratched his head vigorously. "Well, I guess I have no choice. Do you want to come over and take a look?"

"Is that okay?"

"But not today. My big brother³ who's letting me stay over is in a bad mood. I'll call you when he's not around."

"Okay!"

Michihiko wanted to watch the DVD, but he was just happy to be able to hang out at a guy's room.

"Aren't you scared?"

Yamada pulled out a clump of grass at his feet. "You're going to a yakuza's room. I might be a half-assed guy, but my big brother is the real deal."

Influenced by Yamada's serious expression, Michihiko's face naturally tightened.

"Did that person kill someone?"

Yamada tilted his head.

"I don't know. He might have killed one or two people."

"Hmm..." Michihiko murmured. "karma."

"What's that?"

"It's something I learned in Japanese class. If you do something bad, it'll come back to you."

Yamada suddenly laughed.

"I know the meaning of words too, even if I dropped out of high school."

"If you kill someone, you'll die too."

Yamada closed his mouth and smacked Michihiko's head.

"Don't say unlucky things. He's my big brother."

Yamada emerged from the bushes and said to Michihiko, "Don't follow me anymore," then left the park. Alone, Michihiko suddenly became conscious of the time. The streetlight, swarmed by insects, and the clock in the park nearby showed 8 p.m.

It was almost time for his mother to pick him up. He hurried back to the cram school. Just as classes were ending, students were coming out of the entrance.

His mother's car was parked on the side of the road. Since the incident with Nagao at the park, his mother always came to pick him up after cram school. He didn't know what to say. Afraid of being asked about the bruise on his face, he took out a scarf from his bag and wrapped it around his face to hide it. Without a word, he approached the car, and the window rolled down smoothly. His mother, with a stern expression, said, "Get in." As he got into the passenger seat, the car started moving in silence.

"What happened to your nose?"

His observant mother quickly noticed the injury. "I fell and scraped it a bit. It's nothing serious," he replied, and she didn't press further.

"Today, the teacher from the cram school called. They said you were feeling unwell and left early."

Michihiko closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"If you were feeling unwell, why didn't you come home early? What were you doing until this late?"

"I'm really sorry."

"I'll report this to your father."

Michihiko put his hand in his pocket. He gently rubbed the cold folding knife.

"Mom, I... I want to quit the cram school."

"Give me a reason."

His mother's attitude was firm.

"I don't like the instructor. His teaching is bad, and the classes are boring."

He listed a random reason.

"If that's the case, change to a different cram school."

"I prefer studying on my own rather than having someone teach me. If I quit the cram school and my grades don't drop, it should be fine, right? Right, Mom?"

His mother only said, "Talk to your dad." Suddenly, Michihiko remembered the sex scene he had seen earlier. Animalistic, beast-like sex. Thinking about whether his father and mother had done something similar to bring him into this world, he felt a strange sensation.

When he got home, he took off his coat. As usual, he hung it on a hanger, and then he noticed a stain on the hem. As he brought his face closer, he could smell the pungent scent of Yamada.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: bullying, masturbation, violence.

1. Around $62,148.47 USD.

2. The name 加納路彦 (Kanou Michihiko) can be broken down as: - 加納 (Kanou): This is a Japanese surname. - 路 (Michi): This character means "path" or "road." - 彦 (Hiko): This character means "boy" or "prince." So, the name 加納路彦 (Kanou Michihiko) could be interpreted as "the boy/prince of the path from the Kano family."

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