Bitterness of Youth: Part 3

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The cherry blossoms in the garden were beginning to fall. When the wind blew, it felt like snow, though not cold, falling gently around. Brushing the petals off as he walked, Akira slid open the front door.

“Welcome back, Akira,” called Suzuki, a staff member, through the glass at the reception desk just to the left. Suzuki, who always tied her hair back, was one of the older staff members at forty-two. With her frequent nagging, she wasn’t very well-liked by others. Her nickname was “Grumpy.”

“Thanks,” Akira responded quietly, storing his sneakers in the shoe cabinet labeled with a strip of white tape reading "Akira Takatsuka."

“How was school?”

She had asked him the same thing yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. “Same as always,” he replied, stepping into the hallway. Immediately, he heard a high-pitched laugh. In the living room across from the reception area, the head of the orphanage, Isahaya, was playing with third-grader Kaito Yonekura, wrestling around. Isahaya’s silver-framed glasses had slipped down to the bridge of his nose, and his usually neat parted hair was disheveled.

“Oh, welcome back, Akira,” Isahaya smiled kindly as he noticed Akira's gaze.

“I’m back,” Akira replied briefly before quickly making his way to his room. Kaito had come to the orphanage six months ago. At first, he had been a shy boy who hardly spoke, always huddled in a corner. He was terrified of the female staff members and would tremble whenever they got close. Isahaya had been with him constantly back then. Recently, Kaito had finally started talking to the other kids and staff, though his speech was still broken like that of a baby.

It was common for new children or those who had been abused and were frightened of adults to need constant care from the staff. Kaito's case had been severe, so his adjustment period had taken a little longer.

Akira pulled out a book from his battered, hand-me-down schoolbag, the corners worn and frayed. The textbook at the top was stained red. Blood, he thought. He looked at his right hand and saw that blood was seeping from his ring finger. It was from when he had cut himself on some glass at the abandoned factory. He thought the wound had healed, but it had reopened—annoying.

Pressing a tissue to the cut, he stepped into the hallway. Isahaya, still in the living room, was too engrossed in playing with Kaito to notice.

At the reception desk, Akira overheard Suzuki and Tokura talking through the glass. Tokura had been gaining weight recently, and whenever she had to chase after the younger kids, she was always out of breath. She was technically responsible for Akira, but they didn’t talk much.

“Kaito’s been settling down lately, hasn’t he?” Tokura said, munching on a snack while writing something.

“Yeah, it’s been about six months since he arrived. He’s gotten a lot more comfortable here. I was really worried at first, though—he kept wetting himself, and whenever a female staff member tried to help him change, he’d scream and bite them. The other kids were getting irritated too, and I could feel their frustration rubbing off on me.”

Suzuki, who was sewing something—probably a cleaning rag for one of the elementary school kids—nodded as she spoke.

“Isahaya-san was with him from morning till night. But now that Kaito’s finally smiling, I’m so relieved. If he can smile, that’s progress.”

Too lazy to use scissors, Suzuki bit the thread with her teeth.

“I know we get a lot of kids here who’ve been abused, but Kaito’s case was really bad… Oh, by the way, I’ve never seen Akira smile.”

Hearing his name come up unexpectedly, Akira swallowed hard.

“Ah, that kid’s not very friendly,” Tokura said knowingly, pressing the back of a ballpoint pen to her cheek.

“Akira was also abused, but he never went through any of the typical ‘testing behaviors’ that other kids like him usually show. He’s obedient, doesn’t cause trouble, but he’s always so serious. And he talks like an adult, which is weird for a kid.”

“I know what you mean,” Suzuki leaned forward, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, even though he’s still in middle school, he talks like he’s way older.”

“Exactly,” Tokura agreed exaggeratedly, wiping her hands with a tissue after finishing her snack. “But honestly, if all the kids were as demanding as Kaito, we’d never get anything done. Even Hiroaki’s been acting out recently, and Isahaya’s been pulling his hair out over it. We need kids like Akira who don’t cause any problems.”

If Akira spoke up now, they’d probably think he had been eavesdropping. He could try to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, but he wasn’t good at lying or acting like he didn’t know things.

For the first time, Akira realized how the staff truly saw him. Unlike the careful words they used with the children, the conversations between adults were raw and unfiltered.

Abandoning his plan to ask for a bandage, Akira turned to head back to his room, but a voice called out to him from behind.

“Oh, Akira-kun.”

It was Ishimoto, a staff member who had just returned, holding hands with elementary schooler Kana. At twenty-five, Ishimoto was the youngest staff member.

“What’s wrong?”

Ishimoto’s gaze was fixed on Akira’s finger.

“…I need a bandage.”

“Oh, I see. Hold on a second.” Ishimoto went into the reception office. Kana took off her shoes, placed them in the shoe cabinet, and cheerfully called out, “I’m home!” to the reception staff and then to Akira, before running off to the living room. Ishimoto stepped back into the hallway just in time to scold her. “Kana-chan, no running!”

Looking at Akira’s cut, Ishimoto let out an exaggerated “Oh dear,” like a children’s TV show host.

“I can put it on myself,” Akira insisted.

But Ishimoto replied, “It’s fine, it’s fine,” as she gently pressed the bandage over the wound with soft fingers. She smelled faintly sweet as she leaned closer.

Akira returned to his room, still feeling the stiffness of the bandage on his finger. His roommate, Wada Hiroaki, had already come back. Hiroaki, who was the same age as Akira, had been causing more trouble lately, sneaking out at night and skipping school. After Akira had caught him sneaking out once and tried to stop him, Hiroaki hadn’t spoken to him since.

Hiroaki had asked Ishimoto to let him change rooms, but it wasn’t possible until next year, when the current high school seniors would graduate and leave.

Hiroaki sat on the bottom bunk of their shared bunk bed, munching on a bag of chocolate snacks. They were the same ones the staff had handed out two days ago, with each child receiving a bag and being told to ration them out. Akira had planned to eat one piece each day, saving the rest. Hiroaki, however, had eaten his entire bag yesterday and thrown away the wrappers.

Feeling a sinking suspicion, Akira opened the drawer of his desk. Sure enough, his snacks were gone.

“Those are mine,” Akira said.

Hiroaki continued eating, completely ignoring him.

"Don’t take other people’s stuff. Give it back!"

When Akira raised his voice, Hiroaki crumpled up the empty snack bag and threw it at him. The bag was already empty. He regretted not eating the snack yesterday when he had the chance, or maybe he should’ve locked the drawer. It was their third year sharing a room, and while Hiroaki had a habit of stealing, this was the first time something had been taken from Akira.

“Mama’s boy,” Hiroaki sneered.

“Oh dear, Akira-chan, what a big boo-boo. Do you want me to put a band-aid on it for you?” Hiroaki teased in a creepy baby voice, shaking his shoulders mockingly.

Ignoring him, Akira picked up the crumpled plastic bag and the scattered empty snack wrappers from the floor.

“I’m telling our supervisor what you did.”

Immediately, Hiroaki’s expression darkened.

“You’re gonna snitch?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Screw you, you little tattle-tale brat!” Hiroaki’s face flushed with anger.

“Even elementary kids know it’s wrong to do what you did.”

As Akira turned to leave the room, he felt a sudden shove from behind. He fell forward, landing flat on his stomach. Before he could react, Hiroaki jumped onto his back, pinning him down.

Hiroaki grabbed Akira’s hair and slammed his face into the hallway floor. Twice his face hit the ground, and just before the third, Akira twisted his body, shoving Hiroaki off. Hiroaki fell onto his back but quickly got up, charging at Akira like a rabid dog. Hiroaki’s momentum knocked Akira backward as Hiroaki tackled him.

Though Akira was now in his third year of middle school, he was only 150 centimeters (4’9) tall. In contrast, Hiroaki stood at 165 centimeters (5’4), a full 15 centimeters taller.

Akira grabbed Hiroaki’s right arm as he tried to punch him. When Hiroaki attempted to hit with his left, Akira caught that arm too. But then Hiroaki slammed his forehead into Akira’s. With Hiroaki’s larger size, there was no way Akira could overpower him.

“What are you two doing?! Stop it right now! Director, someone, help!”

Tokura’s shrill scream brought Furuya, a 30-year-old male staff member, and Director Isahaya running. They pulled Hiroaki and Akira apart. Even after Furuya had Hiroaki in a hold, he continued to thrash about, kicking and flailing. Some of the younger children watching began to cry, and the staff hurried to take them to the living room.

“You’re such a damn brat!” Hiroaki shouted, spitting as he yelled. Akira pressed his hand to his throbbing forehead where Hiroaki had headbutted him, glaring back at Hiroaki’s furious eyes.

“What started this fight?” Isahaya asked.

Hiroaki gritted his teeth and refused to answer, ignoring the question.

“Hiroaki, you must’ve picked a fight with Akira again, right?” Furuya muttered.

“Why do you always blame me?!” Hiroaki spun around, glaring at Furuya.

For a moment, Furuya hesitated at Hiroaki’s intensity, but he quickly regained his composure. “Because of your behavior,” he replied calmly.

“Akira never starts fights. He only gets hit by others.”

Hiroaki’s face twisted with anger, and it looked like he might burst into tears at any moment.

“You both need to come to the director’s office,” Isahaya instructed.

But Hiroaki shoved past the adults and ran out of the building. Furuya hurried after him. Isahaya sighed and scratched his head.

With Hiroaki gone, Akira was the only one taken to the director’s office. The small room behind the reception area had Isahaya’s work desk and a worn-out sofa set. The walls were lined with children’s drawings, some yellowed and old, while others were newer.

Kids who got into trouble were usually brought here for a stern lecture, but Akira had rarely been called in. It had been a while since he’d had a one-on-one conversation with Isahaya. After explaining the reason for the fight, Akira added, “It wasn’t my fault.”

Isahaya tilted his head slightly and asked, “Why do you think that?”

“Hiroaki took my snacks and hit me first.”

“From what you’ve told me, it does sound like Hiroaki was in the wrong, but…”

The "but" grated on Akira’s nerves. He was the victim here—he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You don’t believe me?” Akira’s voice sharpened.

“No, that’s not it,” Isahaya quickly denied. “But why don’t you take a seat?” he said, trying to calm the irritated boy, motioning toward the sofa.

“Akira, you’re not in the wrong. But Hiroaki has his own circumstances. He’s going through a rough time right now.”

Hearing that Akira wasn’t to blame eased some of the anger that had been bubbling inside him. But now, his forehead, where Hiroaki had headbutted him, throbbed painfully. Just because Hiroaki was going through a tough time, did that mean Akira was supposed to just forgive him for stealing his snacks, shoving him, and hitting him? That didn’t seem fair.

The staff and Isahaya were always soft on Hiroaki. Even when he broke curfew or snuck out of the facility at night, he never got punished as much as the other kids. Sensing Akira’s dissatisfaction, Isahaya let out a small sigh.

“I don’t want you to tell the other kids about this, but… Hiroaki’s mother is sick, and she only has about six months left to live.”

The icy anger that had been clouding Akira’s mind instantly cooled. Sensing the shift in Akira’s demeanor, Isahaya continued.

“Hiroaki’s father is refusing to let him see her. You’d think at a time like this, he’d at least let them meet, but no. He’s adamant.”

A heavy silence settled between them, as if the weight of that information had filled the space between them.

“So what you’re saying is that I should forgive him because he’s going through a hard time?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, but…”

“You’re telling me to cut Hiroaki some slack just because he’s in a tough spot, aren’t you?” Akira shot back, his voice rising in frustration.

Isahaya folded his arms and let out a thoughtful hum. The heat in Akira’s head flared up again, and his voice grew louder.

“Hiroaki needs to apologize to me! Just because he’s going through something doesn’t mean you can brush this off by making excuses for him!”

Isahaya didn’t respond.

“Isn’t that right? If you let him get away with taking his frustrations out on others, he’ll just keep doing it!”

Isahaya was quiet for a long time.

“You’re right, Akira,” he finally murmured.

“But, you see, just as everyone’s face is different, so are their hearts. Even if what you’re saying is correct, not everyone will understand. In those cases, you have to find a way to reach them in a way they can comprehend.”

“You’re just making excuses to avoid dealing with the problem.”

“That might be true,” Isahaya admitted, smiling faintly. “But everyone needs somewhere to escape to… even if it’s the wrong thing to do.”

"Then what about me? What happens to me when I’m the one they’re taking their frustrations out on?!" Akira’s voice rose in frustration.

Isahaya gave a wry smile.

"You’re a smart kid, Akira. What you’re saying is right—so right that it stings to hear it. But, you know, everyone knows what’s right. If everyone in the world did the right thing, there would be no war, no poverty, and no need for facilities like this. But the world isn’t perfect; it’s not all black and white. There are gray areas too."

Isahaya clasped his hands together on his lap and sighed. "I’m going to be honest with you because I know you’re a smart kid who can understand. I’m asking you to be patient and to bear with it."

It was a straightforward, unvarnished truth.

"And if I forgive him, will that help Hiroaki?" Akira asked.

"Nobody knows how things will turn out. But from my experience, when someone is in an unstable situation, pushing our expectations on them often doesn’t work. Acting out is usually a sign of dissatisfaction or unresolved issues inside. It’s likely that Hiroaki won’t be able to accept anything until those issues are addressed," Isahaya explained.

Akira could understand what Isahaya was saying, but... it didn’t feel right.

"My suggestion might not satisfy you," Isahaya continued. "But if it helps calm Hiroaki down even a little, it would benefit everyone at the facility."

The phrase "for the sake of everyone" was front and center, an unavoidable mantra often used by the staff.

"Everyone’s sake, everyone’s sake, everyone’s sake."

Isahaya stood up from the sofa and retrieved something from his desk. It was a colorful box about the size of a textbook. When he opened the lid, Akira saw it was filled with chocolates shaped like small buckets.

"Let’s eat them here, so the other kids don’t see," Isahaya offered, holding the box out to Akira.

"...I don’t want any," Akira replied.

"Don’t be shy. A friend gave them to me as a gift, but there aren’t enough to share with all the kids, so I didn’t know what to do with them," Isahaya said as he sat down beside Akira, their shoulders lightly touching. When Akira didn’t reach for the chocolates, Isahaya picked one up and held it to Akira’s lips.

"Here," he said.

Reluctantly, Akira opened his mouth. The chocolate was large, making it hard to chew, and when he bit down, the nuts inside crunched loudly.

"One more," Isahaya said, as if forgetting Akira had hands of his own, and brought another chocolate to his lips. Akira accepted it as well.

"Kids grow up so fast," Isahaya said, almost wistfully. "When you first came here, you were such a child, but now you speak so maturely."

He ruffled Akira’s hair with his hand. "How tall are you now?"

"150 centimeters," Akira replied.

"I see. Akira, you don’t need to grow too much taller," Isahaya remarked.

"No way. When they line us up by height, I’m always at the front."

"Being small is cute, you know. Oh? You’ve got some chocolate on your face," Isahaya said, wiping the chocolate from Akira’s lips with his thumb, then licking it off his own finger.

"Even when it melts, chocolate is still sweet," he remarked.

Akira looked up at Isahaya, who was sitting close to him.

"What is it? Is there something on my face?" Isahaya asked.

"Director, you’re different from the other staff," Akira began, but before he could say more, Isahaya lifted him onto his lap. Akira felt a little embarrassed since he was almost in high school now, but no one was around to see. Isahaya laughed and said, "I wonder if you’ve gained any weight."

"You were as light as a feather the first time I held you," Isahaya added, and the warmth from his hand resting on Akira’s side slowly seeped into him.

"Your hands are warm, Director," Akira murmured.

"But you kids are even warmer. You’re full of future and energy," Isahaya said as he playfully tugged on Akira’s ear.

"You’re like a cat, Akira. A black cat."

"I don’t meow," Akira replied, and Isahaya laughed heartily, pulling him into a hug.

"It’s just the vibe you give off. I like cats," Isahaya said.

As they continued chatting and sharing chocolates, Akira gradually forgot why he had been called to the director’s office in the first place. It wasn’t until he returned to his room that he remembered the fight with Hiroaki.

Getting headbutted by Hiroaki had hurt. He didn’t like it, but... he couldn’t deny that it felt nice to have Isahaya, who was often preoccupied with other troubled kids, focus on him for a little while.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

"Hey, you."

Akira was stopped on his way to the library after school. It was Gouda, who had been in the same class as him last year. Beside him was Mori. Akira had hardly ever spoken to either of them, and since they were placed in different classes this year, they didn’t even exchange glances when passing in the hallway.

“We need to talk to you for a second, is that okay?”

They didn’t want to talk here, apparently, as Gouda beckoned him to follow. They led him to the landing of the stairs that went up to the roof. ...Clearly, this was a conversation they didn’t want others overhearing. Gouda hesitated to speak, but Mori, standing beside him, gave him a rough shove, urging him to get on with it. Finally, Gouda spoke.

“You’re sharing a room with Hiroaki Wada at the orphanage, right?”

The word “orphanage” made Akira feel as if he’d been touched by rough, dirty hands. He had never been ashamed of living there, but he didn’t like hearing it said so bluntly.

“...Yeah, that’s right.”

Gouda and Mori exchanged looks, nodding at each other as if signaling.

“I own a Lime Green ZAC, you know,” Gouda said.

ZAC was a portable music player that had become explosively popular after a famous actor appeared in its commercial. Some of the high school students at the facility had wanted one so badly that they had requested the staff withdraw money from their savings to buy it. Akira, who wasn’t interested in music, couldn’t understand the appeal of spending tens of thousands of yen on it.

“Well, mine went missing at school the other day. Then someone told me that Wada has the exact same ZAC I used to have.”

Akira felt a chill run through his chest.

“So, my friend asked Wada where he got it, since he knew mine had gone missing. And apparently, Wada said, ‘My parents bought it for me.’ But the thing is, the Lime Green model is a limited edition and isn’t sold anymore. Plus, Wada’s ZAC has a skull sticker on the back. I had the same sticker on mine. You can only get those at indie band concerts—you have to be there live to buy that kind of limited merch.”

The situation was becoming clearer.

“So, could you, you know, sneak my ZAC back from him? Without him knowing?” Gouda asked.

When Akira didn’t respond, Mori leaned in closer.

“If you get it back, Gouda says he’ll keep quiet about all of this.”

...Was this some sort of deal to let a kid from the facility get away with doing something bad?

“Bringing something like that to school is against the rules anyway,” Akira pointed out.

Gouda immediately looked uncomfortable, his mouth snapping shut.

“If you’ve got a problem, talk to Hiroaki yourself,” Akira said.

“No way,” Gouda shook his head. “That guy’s scary. I don’t know what he’d do if I pissed him off. I just want my ZAC back, that’s all.”

...Hiroaki had a history of taking and breaking other kids’ things at the facility. Akira hadn’t had anything stolen from him, aside from the snacks recently. Since his guardian never visited, he didn’t get much pocket money or have anyone buy him anything. Perhaps he hadn’t been targeted because he didn’t own anything Hiroaki would be envious of.

Considering what Hiroaki had done before, it wasn’t entirely impossible that he had stolen Gouda’s ZAC. But still...

“I don’t know for sure if the ZAC Hiroaki has is actually yours.”

Gouda frowned.

“Are you saying I’m lying?”

“That’s not it. I’m just saying I don’t know for sure. So you should talk to him.”

“He won’t listen.”

Gouda scratched his short hair in frustration.

“That’s why I’m asking you!”

“Well, there’s not much I can do about it.”

Gouda clicked his tongue and glared down at Akira with contempt.

“Are you covering for Wada?”

“No, I’m not!”

“Oh, so you just let your buddies get away with bad stuff, huh?”

Just because they lived in the same facility, people assumed they were “buddies.” But Akira and Hiroaki hadn’t really spoken much, even before their recent fight.

Gouda muttered, “Pathetic,” as he and Mori headed down the stairs. Just before leaving, Gouda threw one last comment over his shoulder.

“That little runt is completely useless.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

On his way back from school, Akira took a detour and walked along the river. After about twenty minutes, he came upon an old towel factory, now abandoned, with its brick tiles visible.

The factory was surrounded by a tall fence, with only one entrance. Waist-high poles were set at intervals, and a long chain was draped between them. While cars couldn’t pass through, it was easy enough for a person to step over the chain.

Inside the fence, beyond the concrete areas, weeds had grown wildly, some reaching above his head. Akira pushed his way through the grass and approached a broken window. Using a tin bucket as a stepping stool, he climbed into the building.

The first room housed large rollers, about six meters long, arranged in rows. Akira squeezed through the one-meter gaps between the rollers and entered the next room. This room, about half the size of a gymnasium, had shelves lining the walls. The shelves were empty, though—nothing left inside.

On the floor were about ten giant cylindrical objects wrapped in brown paper, each roughly the size of a tire. They looked like enormous rolls of toilet paper, but they were actually towels, waiting to be cut and sewn at the edges. Akira tore one corner open to confirm this.

He climbed up one of the shelves and pulled down a cardboard box from the top. As he lowered it and opened the lid, a high-pitched screech echoed through the room.

Inside the box was a small black bat, about seven centimeters long when its wings were folded, its body forming an oval shape. The bat looked up at Akira and screeched, "Gyah! Gyah!" in a grating voice as it slithered around inside the box.

Akira took the bat out of the box and placed it on his lap. When he dangled a small worm in front of it, the bat lunged forward and devoured it hungrily. After swallowing the worm, it screeched again, "Gyah! Gyah!" as if demanding more. This time, Akira fed it a dead moth by hand.

Back when Akira used to visit the remains of his burned-down house, he would sometimes walk home after getting off the bus one stop early to save money. That was how he discovered this abandoned factory. The orphanage was always noisy, and the thin door of his two-person room let in even the whispered conversations from the hallway. Whenever Akira wanted to be alone and enjoy some quiet, he would stop by here. It provided shelter from the rain, and if it got cold, he could wrap himself in the towels.

About half a month ago, Akira found the bat here. He had occasionally seen bats and cats in the building before, but they usually scattered the moment a person came near.

This bat, however, had been lying on the floor in the room with the rollers, screeching noisily, "Gyah! Gyah!" It didn’t flee, even when Akira approached. Puzzled, Akira looked closer and noticed that its left wing was hanging limply, unable to close. It was injured and likely unable to fly. If left like this, it might get eaten by a cat—or die of starvation before that. When Akira reached out to it, the bat shrieked even louder, baring its fangs in a fierce display of warning. Seeing its wild defensiveness made Akira’s sympathy fade. It’s best not to interfere with wild animals. If this bat was hurt and unable to fly, then getting eaten by a cat was just part of its fate.

Akira stepped over the noisy bat and climbed the stairs at the back of the factory. From the roof, he watched the white cherry blossoms beginning to bloom along the riverbank. As he looked down, he saw a tall woman slowly passing by on the road in front of the factory, holding a white parasol. The road didn’t see many people or cars, so she stood out. Maybe she was taking a walk, or maybe it was a shortcut. Every time she moved, her parasol twirled slightly.

As Akira drifted in his thoughts, the sun began to set. The staff at the orphanage were strict about curfews. Akira descended the stairs and crossed the now dimly lit building.

When he returned to the room with the rollers, his heart skipped a beat. The bat was still there, curled up on the floor, but it didn’t react when Akira approached. …Had it died?

He slowly moved closer and touched its back. "Gyah! Gyah!" It screeched fiercely, making Akira pull his hand back in surprise. …It wasn’t dead. A wave of relief washed over him. He held out his hand again, and the bat resumed its noisy screeching. Was this creature going to keep screeching even when it was on the brink of death? Akira couldn’t help but think that if it had been a dog or a cat, lying quietly with a pitiable expression, it might have garnered more sympathy. But watching this bat, incapable of anything other than threatening noises, Akira started to feel sorry for it.

Akira found a small cardboard box in the building, lined it with towels, and placed the bat inside. The bat, which had been screeching wildly, stopped when Akira filled an ashtray with water from the river and placed it in the box. The bat immediately shoved its face into the water and drank eagerly.

Unsure of what to feed it, Akira caught a spider from the windowsill and offered it to the bat, which gobbled it up greedily. Then, as if asking for more, it screeched, "Gyah! Gyah!"

Since that day, Akira had been coming to the abandoned factory every day to take care of the bat. His “care” involved feeding it, giving it water, and cleaning up after it. Akira had hoped that once its wing healed, the bat would be able to fly again, but even after all this time, it hadn’t managed to climb out of the cardboard box, which was only ten centimeters tall.

Over time, the bat grew accustomed to Akira and began eating its meals while sitting on his lap. When the bat sat there, Akira could feel a small, warm spot on his leg. It was a reminder that, despite its size, this creature was alive.

"You really do eat anything, don’t you?" Akira said as the bat wrestled with a dead stinkbug.

"At least it’s easy for me, since you’ll eat whatever’s around," he added.

After gorging on moths, worms, and small insects, the bat quieted down on Akira’s lap. It seemed full, and maybe even sleepy. When the bat curled up on his lap like a little ball of yarn, it actually looked cute. It had even stopped hissing at him when he stroked its back.

"Humans are a real pain, you know," Akira said, talking to the animal that couldn’t understand him.

"They’re so selfish."

Ever since Akira had started living at the orphanage, whenever something went wrong outside, people always said, “Oh, it’s because he’s from the orphanage…” He hadn’t changed at all, but just because he lived in a different place, he now had the label of “orphanage” attached to him.

That was why he kept his head down at school. He followed the rules and didn’t do anything that could get him into trouble. And yet, people still brought their problems to him. He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t done anything, and still…

Being with the bat was so much better than being with those people. It was noisy when hungry, but quiet once it had eaten. All it needed was food and water, nothing more.

"...I wonder if you’ll ever fly again," Akira murmured, touching the bat’s outstretched wing, which had never folded back properly. The bat responded with an irritated screech, "Gyah! Gyah!" as if to say, "Don’t bother me."

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