Bitterness of Youth: Extra

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Friends and Rice Balls

[“Hi, Akira.”]

When he looked up, the sunlight filtered through long golden hair, making it sparkle. The bold piercings under her nose and on her earlobes, combined with heavy makeup and black clothes, gave Pat the look of a member of a heavy metal band. She narrowed her eyes at Akira and gave a small smile, a subtle gesture.

[“...Hi.”]

Almost at the same moment he replied, Pat plopped down heavily on the bench beside him. She crossed her legs, clad in platform boots, and peered into the paper bag Akira had placed next to him.

[“The rice ball looks tasty.”]

Pat’s green eyes were fixed on the onigiri inside the paper bag.

[“...You can have one, if you want.”]

When he gave her permission, Pat grabbed an onigiri from the bag and bit into it ravenously. The way she wolfed it down, almost swallowing the plastic wrap along with it, reminded Akira of a starving stray dog.

[“I’m about to start my shift, but I was starving. I saw you in the courtyard and thought, lucky me.”]

Pat even scooped up the remaining grains of rice stuck to the plastic wrap with her tongue, leaving nothing behind.

[“Don’t go using someone else’s precious lunch as a snack.”]

[“If there’s any leftovers at my job, I’ll bring you something. Oh, but I’m doing cleaning today, not working at the diner, so maybe not.”]

[“I don’t need it. The food at your place is awful anyway.”]

[“No way, it’s supposed to be really good! Maybe your taste buds are just broken?”]

Pat stood up, waved her fingers at him with a casual "See ya," and walked off. Even though she had eaten part of his lunch, Akira wasn’t really upset. Like him, she was a scholarship student, barely scraping by. He knew she was always hungry.

Pat—Patricia Stewart—stood out not just because of her heavy makeup but also because she was a top student. In America, where socializing was considered good manners, Pat seemed to avoid interacting with others, to the point where Akira wondered if she was antisocial. At first, he thought she simply preferred being alone.

They spoke for the first time when they were paired up for a practical. While Akira was still fumbling with the unfamiliar embalming tools, Pat handled them with ease.

“You’re pretty good at this.”

The words slipped out in Japanese. Pat, looking annoyed, glared at him. [“What did you just say?”]

Maybe she thought he had insulted her in a foreign language.

[“...I said you’re good at handling the tools.”]

Her expression softened slightly.

[“My family runs a funeral home, so I’ve been playing around with this stuff since I was little. What language was that clattering noise you just spoke?”]

[“Japanese.”]

[“Oh, you’re Japanese? I thought you were Chinese.”]

After that, they were paired up a few more times. Pat’s techniques, though occasionally skipping steps, were quick and precise. Akira was also skilled, so together they finished their practical assignments in no time, earning a [“You two are the best team”] from their instructor. For Akira, working with Pat, who didn’t waste time on idle chatter and focused on getting the task done, was easy.

It was about half a year ago. Akira had been eyeing a bench in the shade in the university courtyard, but Pat was already sitting there. He hesitated for a moment, but since eating in the library was not allowed and he didn’t want to sit directly on the grass, he decided to sit next to her since she was only occupying the edge of the bench.

Noticing his presence, Pat glanced at him, so he greeted her with a [“Hi”], but she remained silent. She seemed to be in a bad mood, but Akira didn’t mind and opened his textbook while biting into his sandwich. His dorm was noisy because the Chinese student in the room next to his had invited friends over, and he couldn’t concentrate there.

Pat, who had been sitting with her knees drawn up on the bench, suddenly spoke up. [“Hey.”]

Her green eyes glared at him.

[“Is this some kind of harassment?”]

[“What do you mean, harassment?”]

[“Why are you eating a sandwich right next to me?”]

[“Because it’s my lunch.”]

[“I’m starving here!”]

Though Akira thought she could just go to the cafeteria or the campus store, he offered her one of his homemade sandwiches. Pat blinked a few times and then asked in a small voice, [“Are you sure?”]

[“You said you were hungry, right?”]

She snatched the sandwich from him in a flash and devoured it in mere seconds.

[“Oh no, eating just made me hungrier.”]

Pat stared at him intently.

[“The truth is, I’m broke. I haven’t eaten properly in two days, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. Could you treat me to something?”]

She made her request bluntly. Akira was a little taken aback by her audacity, but he knew what it was like to suffer from hunger. Despite not having much money himself, he went to the campus store, bought some chips and a drink, and handed them to Pat. She devoured them in minutes, then, with a satisfied expression, declared, [“I’m back to life!”] 

[“You know, I thought you were this weird, emotionless guy who never talks, but you’re actually kind.”] 

From that point on, whenever Pat was hungry, she would search for Akira and mooch food off him. She eventually told him about her background—she had lost her parents in an accident when she was seventeen, and now she attended university on a scholarship while working part-time to support her high school-aged brother. Her goal was to one day reopen her family’s funeral home.

Every weekend, the university dorms would host parties. Akira, focused on his studies, never attended, nor did he have any friends who invited him. Pat, too, scoffed at the party scene, saying, [“I can’t hang out with those carefree idiots who only think about booze and sex. Besides, I’m too busy with work to have time for that.”]

Akira had come to an American university to master the art of embalming. He’d been there for a year and two months now, and though he could manage casual conversations, studying was still tough. The lectures were full of technical terms, and he struggled both to take notes and to understand them. Practical training was the only part that felt easier. He had always intended to return to Japan someday, so he had no intention of making friends here, but somehow, he ended up spending more and more time with Pat.

As the day wore on, the surroundings grew dim. Without realizing it, Akira had spent nearly four hours studying on the bench. He had meant to go to the library, but he got so focused that he lost track of time. It had been warm during the day, but now that the sun was setting, the cold was creeping in. Thinking that it was indeed the end of November, he started heading back to his dorm. Just then, a loud crash echoed in the distance.

A crowd of curious onlookers rushed toward the source of the noise. Maybe a student had gotten into a car accident on campus? The sound had come from the direction of his dorm, and Akira had a bad feeling. When he went to check, his suspicions were confirmed.

A classic car with an elongated hood had crashed right into the first floor of the two-story wooden dorm building. It looked like a scene straight out of a comedy manga. And directly above where the car had plowed into the building was his room.

The man driving the classic car was being dragged out of the vehicle. He looked dazed but wasn’t bleeding. The long hood of the car must have absorbed most of the impact. Dorm residents were pouring out of the building. Among them, Akira spotted his next-door neighbor, the international student. Since the crash had occurred in the living room area, Akira asked if anyone had been there, but thankfully, he was told that no one was in the room at the time of the accident.

The car was eventually towed out of the dorm, but the moment it was removed, there was a loud creaking sound. The building groaned with a creak creak as it started to visibly lean.

The dorm Akira lived in was so old that no one even knew how long it had been standing. Because of this, the rent was dirt cheap. The building’s facilities broke down frequently, but Akira had accepted that it was part of the deal for the low cost.

Now, the combination of its age and the impact from the car had left the dorm leaning precariously, like the Tower of Pisa. It looked dangerous from every angle. One wrong move, and it could collapse. Akira stood there, stunned, muttering to himself, "What am I supposed to do about this…?"

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Akira silently packed the pizza boxes and takeout containers into a trash bag. He had initially planned to ignore it and sleep, but lying down only made it impossible to stop noticing the mess. Besides, he couldn't sleep anyway, so he decided to clean up to pass the time.

The past week had been a nightmare. A car had crashed into the dorm, causing the building to lean, and due to the risk of collapse, it was immediately declared off-limits. The situation would remain that way until experts completed their investigation, leaving Akira unable to retrieve any of his belongings.

There were 22 residents in the dorm, and everyone had to temporarily stay in vacant rooms in other dorms or at friends' places. Akira also moved to another dorm, but on the third night, the girlfriend of the resident next door fled to his room, claiming her boyfriend was violent. Though she stayed only for a few hours, the guy suspected her of cheating and began to see Akira as an enemy, blasting loud music to harass him even at night. Unable to take it anymore, Akira confronted him, which only provoked the guy further, leading to a huge fight. The music volume only increased, and the dorm manager, unreasonably blaming Akira for the trouble, kicked him out of the room.

It's one thing in the summer, but in November, the temperature was too low to sleep outside. Even if he wanted to find a place to rest inside a campus building, he had no idea who to talk to. Feeling hopeless, he ran into Pat on her way back from work. After hearing his situation, she offered, [“You can stay in my living room.”]

Though he hesitated at the thought of staying at a woman's place, Pat shrugged it off, saying, [“My brother is here too. Besides, you're not even my type, right?”]

Thus, Akira was allowed to crash in Pat's living room until he found another place, but the outlook was grim. If that cheap dorm were to be demolished, the next dorm would undoubtedly be more expensive. Akira had never worked a part-time job before. There were conditions for international students to work, and between studies and keeping up with English, he had no time. He had planned to start working this winter, now that he was getting used to things, but...

Before leaving Japan, he had prepared some funds for living expenses, but even with frugality, the small costs added up, and it was clear they wouldn't last until his final year. He had calculated that he could just barely get by with a part-time job, but now the prospect of higher dorm fees added to the burden. The only remaining area to cut back on was food expenses, but he was already cutting it close, so further reductions would be tough. The only option left was to take a break from school and work to save up some money.

He continued cleaning in a gloomy mood, and after an hour, most of the trash was gone, leaving the living room neat and tidy. The activity made him a bit sleepy, so he lay down on the sofa. Wrapping himself in a blanket, he thought to himself that he was lucky enough to have someone who would let him stay at their place. With that thought, he closed his eyes... but in the middle of the night, he was violently shaken awake. In the bright lights, a hulking man with dark skin loomed over him.

[“Who are you?”]

The man's voice was deep, and his blue eyes radiated a terrifying killing intent.

[“When you ask who I am...”]

Before Akira could finish, the man grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up, then threw him across the room. He crashed into the pile of trash bags he had packed earlier, which cushioned the blow and saved him from hitting the floor directly, but the man came at him again, grabbed Akira's arm as he lay buried in the bags, and this time punched him in the face. The merciless blow made Akira's brain rattle, and his vision went dark.

[“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”]

Pat's shout echoed through the room.

[“Did you bring this guy in while I was gone?”]

The man roared in a booming voice.

[“He's a friend from college. He had nowhere to go, so I let him stay here!”]

[“Don't lie!”]

[“Why would I lie about something like this? Besides, take a good look. Do you think I'd ever get turned on by a skinny asparagus like him? My type is muscle guys like you.”]

The man paused for a moment, saying, [“Well, that's true,”] but then barked, [“But I still don't like this!”]

Pat and the man began arguing, but eventually, the man left the living room first. Pat came over to Akira and apologized, [“Sorry, my boyfriend's an idiot.”]

[“He's a wrestler. He was away for a show for a while, but he came back suddenly. He'll be here all the time during his break.”]

As Akira wiped his mouth with a gloomy expression, a bit of blood smeared on the back of his hand.

[“He gets physical with guys right away. It might be troublesome to stay here. Akira, do you have anywhere else you can go?”]

He had nowhere to go.

[“Isn't there anyone you can rely on in America?”]

Richard's face flashed in his mind. He was the man who had been his mother's boyfriend. When Akira had told him through Masato that he was going to study abroad in America, Richard had asked, [“Which university? Let me help you out,”] but Akira had turned him down. He'd also been given Richard's contact information, but he'd forgotten it. And now... he didn't want to rely on that man. He didn't want to ask for his help.

[“No, there's no one.”]

Pat put her hands on her hips and let out a thoughtful groan. Though she could be a bit pushy, she was kind, and Akira felt guilty for causing her trouble. He was burdening someone unrelated to his situation with his problems. It wasn't that he had no options; he was just avoiding them because of his personal feelings.

[“Sorry about this.”]

When he apologized, Pat shrugged and said, [“Well, there's not much to be done about it.”]

◇:-:◆:-:◇

He spent the whole night agonizing over it. Agonized, yet unable to find any solution, he searched for "Richard Carlyle" on his phone. Of course, no direct contact information for a world-renowned producer would easily show up.

He then tried searching for Richard's manager, John McDill, but still couldn't find any contact details. He'd always been in touch with the two of them through the interpreter, Masato, so he had no direct contact information. Isahaya probably knew, but he'd already decided never to get involved with him again.

As he was about to give up, thinking that maybe he just wasn’t destined to have any connection with those people, a thought struck him—what about Masato? He searched for "Daniel Masato Austin" using his full name, and sure enough, a social media account appeared. The profile photo was of Masato's face, so there was no doubt it was him.

He typed a message using his real name, asking if Masato could help connect him with someone he needed to contact. He wrote it, but hesitated to send it. His fingers stopped. Masato had only been checking in on him at Richard’s request; reaching out might just be a nuisance. He might ignore it. He didn’t want to get his hopes up.

But he was in a bind. He was causing trouble for a complete stranger, Pat. Richard, too, was a stranger, if you looked at it that way. He was living by causing trouble for all sorts of people. He decided to abandon the message and deleted it. For about an hour, he repeated the cycle of writing and erasing the message, until he finally grew tired of thinking and hesitating, and sent it.

...If I’m going to cause trouble, it’s better to bother Richard than Pat, he thought. At least Richard has money. He could ask for a bit of help. Not for money outright, but just enough to cover what’s missing. He would definitely pay it back. He would work and pay it back.

He spoke to the part of himself that was hoping. This is like a lottery, he told himself. Masato might not get back to him, or he might just ignore it. That’s why he needed to find a way to solve this on his own, without relying on anyone else.

Trying to stay positive, he told himself to move forward and decided to consult a university staff member who worked with international students. The dorm he’d been living in was set to be demolished. Other dorms were already full, and there was no room for him. If he had to find an apartment off-campus, the prices would inevitably go up. Dropping out and taking a break to work and save money was starting to seem like a realistic option. It seemed wiser to take a break while he still had some money, rather than wait until he was completely broke. As he was heading toward the library, thinking about this, a reply from Masato came in. He wanted to know his phone number. When he gave it to him, the phone rang almost immediately, as if Masato had been watching the screen.

"It's been a while, hasn’t it? I was surprised to get a message from you out of the blue. How have you been?"

Masato’s voice was as bright as ever. The familiar sound of Japanese, which he hadn’t heard in so long, seeped into his soul.

"You're still in university, right? How’s campus life treating you?"

“Studying is tough,” he replied.

Masato laughed aloud. "Haha! I don’t miss my student days at all. Reports, assignments, more reports—it was a nightmare."

By the way, Masato continued, "The person you want to contact—could it be Richard?"

Masato was sharp. But no, as soon as he'd asked Masato, it had been obvious who he meant.

"Well, that’s not necessary anymore."

"Really?"

He’d just been feeling a bit down because of all the trouble he was facing. It wasn't as if there were no solutions.

Masato seemed to be at work and couldn’t talk for long, but he said, "If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call this number." Even if that was just a polite gesture, it made him feel a little lighter.

Sitting on a bench in the courtyard, he worked on his assignments while thinking about whether there were any good part-time jobs that international students could do. Then, his phone rang. It was from an unknown number. He was about to ignore it, but... he had a feeling it might be that person, so he answered.

[“Hello.”]

The voice was small.

[“Yes.”]

[“Is this Akira?”]

Feeling tense, he responded, [“Yes, it is.”]

[“It's me, Richard.”]

His hand, gripping the phone, started to tremble.

[“It's been a while.”]

[“Masato told me that you reached out to him. And then, well, I just really wanted to talk to you, so I insisted on getting your number.”]

[“Is that so...”]

Even though he could speak English, no words followed.

[“Are you in some kind of trouble?”] Richard asked, but then quickly added, flustered, [“Oh, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, okay?”]

[“You're studying at a university in L.A., right?”]

How did Richard know that? Had he told Masato the name of his university?

[“If you’d like, how about we have dinner tonight? It’s a bit late, but I’d like to celebrate your enrollment.”]

Ah, he didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t want to depend on anyone. But still, he yearned for that kind voice speaking to him.

[“Do you already have plans for dinner with someone?”]

[“No, not really…”]

[“You don’t want to meet with me, do you?”]

Richard’s tone dropped. Had he been hurting this person all along, without realizing it?

[“That’s not true.”]

[“Then I’ll come pick you up tonight. What time works for you? I’ll book a table at a really fantastic restaurant.”]

Richard’s voice rose with excitement.

[“Um, I’ll come to you. So please tell me where you are.”]

He didn’t want to get his hopes up. He didn’t want to wait. So he would go to him. If Richard wasn’t there, he could just leave. After a brief silence, Richard told him the name of a film studio in L.A.

[“Just mention your name and mine at the gate, and I’ll make sure they let you in.”]

They made their plans and hung up. Immediately, his body began to shake. Anxiety gripped him. All the decisions had been left up to him. If he was going to take the bus to the studio, he’d need to start getting ready now, but part of him was terrified to go.

A faint electronic sound. A message had come in on his phone. It was from Pat.

"You haven’t figured out where to stay yet, right? You can stay at my place for another two days. My boyfriend just let me know he’s going to Florida for three days on business."

Ah, Pat was so kind.

"If you don’t mind a late dinner, I can bring something home from work. It might taste awful, but I’m sure you’re short on cash too."

"I don’t need dinner. I have dinner plans," he replied. The message was marked as read, and a response came soon after.

"So you’ve got someone else to have dinner with, huh? Good for you. Then I guess I don’t need to worry."

...Even if you’re fine being alone, living alone is tough. It’s scary to trust people, and hard to believe in them. But even if you can’t trust them, there are people who will help you. People like that might have been around all along.

He was going to meet Richard. Not because he wanted financial help or anything like that… He just wanted to meet him. I want to talk to him, that's what he thought.

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