Bitterness of Youth: Part 4

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As Akira vented his frustrations to the bat, using it as an outlet after dealing with Gouda’s snide remarks, the time slipped by, and he made it back to the orphanage just in time for curfew.

Hiroaki's desk had the same worn, hand-me-down school bag as Akira’s own. Although Hiroaki wasn’t in the room, it was unusual for him to be back before curfew. The disheveled bedding on Hiroaki’s bunk in the lower half of the shared two-tier bed caught Akira’s eye.

No matter how many times the staff warned him, Hiroaki never tidied up his bedding. His caretaker, Ishimoto, used to fix it occasionally, but even she had stopped doing that recently.

Among the wrinkled sheets, Akira noticed a familiar green color, similar to fresh young leaves. His heartbeat quickened with suspicion. Approaching the bed, he pulled out a ZAC—the same music player Gouda had mentioned. There was a two-centimeter skull sticker on the back, just as Gouda had described.

Akira placed the ZAC back under the messy sheets. Gouda’s words echoed in his mind: “You guys just let your friends get away with bad stuff, huh?” What would happen if he gave the ZAC back to Gouda? Maybe it would settle things for Gouda, but what about Hiroaki? Was it right to ignore how the thief felt? But then again, Hiroaki hadn’t outright admitted to stealing it. ...Though it certainly seemed likely.

The door behind him creaked open. Hiroaki entered the room, completely ignoring Akira, as though he were no more than a streetlamp, and flopped onto the rumpled bedding. He grabbed the ZAC, unwrapping the tangled earphone cord from around it.

“What are you staring at?” Hiroaki snapped, his irritation plain as he glared at Akira. It seemed Hiroaki had assumed Akira had been watching him when, in fact, his eyes had been following the ZAC.

…What should he do? Akira asked himself before taking a deep breath, his throat tightening slightly.

“That ZAC—is it yours?” he asked, pointing to the green device. Hiroaki’s hand trembled for a brief moment.

“Yeah, it is,” Hiroaki answered, stuffing the ZAC into his pocket.

“When did you get it?”

“I found it at the station.”

That didn’t match what Gouda had said. But Hiroaki was known for coming up with lies on the spot to cover his tracks.

“If you found it, you’re supposed to take it to the police station.”

“Stop nagging me!”

Hiroaki shot up from the bed and shoved Akira before storming out of the room.

During dinner, Hiroaki sat diagonally across from Akira but disappeared as soon as he finished eating. When Akira returned to their room, he noticed the window was unlocked—Hiroaki must have gone out again. With curfew set at six for middle schoolers, no one was allowed to go out after that. The staff kept an eye on the entrance by the reception, so anyone wanting to sneak out often used the window.

Akira couldn’t concentrate on studying, so he took his textbook and went to the dining hall. Lights-out was at ten, but middle schoolers and older were allowed to study in the dining hall afterward if they needed. Since most rooms had two or three occupants, this arrangement was to prevent anyone’s desk lamp from disturbing their roommates' sleep. Akira had heard there had been arguments about that in the past.

High school students usually had their own rooms, but those who didn’t plan to go to college were assigned to shared rooms. Tonight, as usual, Akira was the only one studying in the dining hall.

As he worked through math problems, his thoughts drifted back to Hiroaki. Did Hiroaki really steal the ZAC? Akira had already made up his mind—he was 90% sure Hiroaki was the thief. He didn’t believe Gouda was lying, especially because Gouda had admitted to being afraid of Hiroaki. It didn’t seem likely that someone would pick a fight with someone they found intimidating.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

“Huh?”

As Akira let out a surprised noise, the lights flicked back on immediately.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” came the voice of Ishimoto, the staff member who had turned the lights off. Ishimoto wasn’t like the middle-aged staff members Tokura and Suzuki, who had become so accustomed to orphanage life that they’d turned into part of the furniture. She was always attentive and listened to the kids, which made everyone like her. Akira could tell from the atmosphere that Tokura and Suzuki didn’t appreciate how popular Ishimoto was, subtly excluding her.

“Studying, huh? That’s impressive,” Ishimoto said, peeking over at the textbook Akira had spread out.

“As an apology for turning the lights off on you, how about I make you some coffee?”

“No, it’s fine.”

“Oh, come on, it’s no trouble. If you don’t like coffee, I have some cocoa.”

Ishimoto boiled water in the kitchen and made cocoa for him. Since there wasn’t any cocoa available for the kids, Akira figured it must be something from the staff room or her personal stash.

He thought she’d go back to the staff room after making the drink, but instead, she sat down across from him and asked, “Mind if I talk with you for a bit?”

“Sure,” Akira replied.

“Sorry for interrupting your studies,” she said, offering a sheepish smile. “You’re in your third year of middle school, right? Have you thought about what you’re going to do next?”

It was the first time any staff member, including his own caretaker, Tokura, had asked Akira about his future.

“I want to go to high school. Hopefully, I can get into one nearby that offers scholarships.”

As soon as he had entered his third year, Akira had brought this up with his homeroom teacher. Since he wasn’t sure which high schools offered scholarships, the teacher, understanding Akira’s situation, had helped him look for options.

“I see. …Do you know what Hiroaki’s planning to do?” Ishimoto asked.

So that’s what she wanted to know. Disappointed, Akira responded, “We don’t talk.”

“I see…” Ishimoto sighed quietly. “Lately, I haven’t really been able to talk with Hiroaki either. He’s hardly ever here, and he sneaks out at night…”

In the past, whenever Hiroaki snuck out of the orphanage, the staff would send out a search party to find him. But after it happened repeatedly, it became so commonplace that the staff half-ignored it now.

“I keep wondering if it’s because I’m a woman. Maybe if he had a male caretaker, he’d open up more. What do you think, Akira? Would you find it easier to talk to a male staff member?”

“Doesn’t make a difference,” Akira replied flatly.

Ishimoto smiled awkwardly, resting her chin on her hand. “I see… By the way, Akira, do you ever worry about anything?”

Gouda’s face flashed through Akira’s mind.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, other kids come to the staff when they have problems, but you never do. If you’re not worried about anything, that’s fine.”

Akira hesitated, debating whether to confide in her about the confusion stirring inside him. And then, remembering that Ishimoto was Hiroaki’s caretaker, he decided to speak up.

“Do you know what a ZAC is?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re super popular, right? Do you want one too?” she asked.

Akira shook his head.

“One of my classmates from last year, Gouda, told me that Hiroaki stole his ZAC and asked me to sneak it back for him.”

Ishimoto’s expression shifted, the gentle atmosphere replaced by seriousness.

“So, Hiroaki stole something from one of your classmates?”

“Gouda says he did. Hiroaki claims he bought it or found it.”

Ishimoto frowned, placing a hand to her cheek.

“I think Hiroaki stole it, but I have no proof. That’s why I told Gouda, ‘I can’t do it since I don’t know for sure.’”

“I see… Yeah, that makes sense…”

Ishimoto lowered her gaze, falling silent. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the dining hall suddenly seemed louder than usual. Abruptly, Ishimoto stood up.

“Let’s talk to the director about this.”

“Oh, but—”

“If Hiroaki really did steal something from one of your classmates, this isn’t something you and I can resolve on our own. Would you come with me?”

Before Akira could process everything, he found himself being led to the director’s office. Normally, Isahaya, the director, would head home to his residence next door by evening, but tonight he was still at the orphanage.

“This is an unusual pair. What brings you two here?” Isahaya asked, adjusting his silver-framed glasses with a warm smile.

At Ishimoto’s urging, Akira explained everything—what Gouda had told him, how he’d seen the ZAC in their room, and Hiroaki’s reaction when confronted about it. He recounted it all calmly, and as soon as he finished, the weight on his chest seemed to lift. Meanwhile, Isahaya’s expression grew more serious.

“…Akira, thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to Hiroaki myself.”

Back in his room, Akira felt conflicted. It was a relief to have someone listen to him, but was it really okay to leave it all to Isahaya? If the director confronted Hiroaki with something like, “You didn’t steal your friend’s ZAC, did you?” Hiroaki, being sharp, would probably figure out that Akira had reported him. After all, Akira had directly asked him, “Is that ZAC yours?” in their room.

Should he ask Isahaya to keep his involvement a secret? But if he did that, it would look like Gouda was the one who had told the orphanage about the stolen ZAC, and Hiroaki might retaliate against him.

Akira hated the idea of pretending not to know that “Hiroaki probably stole something.” In that sense, he felt relieved. But the uncertainty about how Hiroaki would react in the future… that scared him a little.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was the day after Isahaya had spoken to Hiroaki. The weather was extremely clear, and the sun was harsh. Akira gazed outside the classroom window, thinking, I'm so sleepy... Despite it being morning, he hadn’t seen any sign of Hiroaki. He never stayed away for two days straight, so he’d probably be back today. If so, Isahaya would likely talk to him tonight. And then things would definitely get messy. Akira didn’t want to think about it.

It should have been a typical ten-minute break after the fifth period, filled with the usual sluggishness. That was until someone suddenly grabbed him by the collar from behind and dragged him off his chair, throwing him to the floor.

Before he could understand what was happening, Akira hit the ground hard on his back, letting out a faint groan of pain. Looking up, he was startled to see the very person who’d been on his mind just moments ago staring down at him. Hiroaki was wearing a T-shirt and jeans—not his uniform—and his face was completely devoid of expression.

Akira was yanked up by his shirtfront and, before he had a chance to defend himself, was punched in the face. The impact and pain reverberated through his skull. His face flushed hot, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. When he wiped his lips, the back of his hand came away bright red.

"...I'm going to kill you," Hiroaki’s cursed words echoed close to Akira's ear. Although he had heard Hiroaki say the same thing countless times before, this time it sent a cold shiver down his spine.

He raised his hands to guard his face from the second punch, but Hiroaki grabbed him by the wrists and slammed his head into the floor.

"H-hey, stop it!" A voice cried out from behind them. Hiroaki shouted back, "Shut up!" and kicked Akira in the stomach. A stabbing pain shot through his gut, and a croak, like that of a frog, escaped his lips. This is bad...

Memories of when his uncle used to hit and kick him surfaced. Even then, he hadn’t felt this terrified. This wasn’t just Hiroaki venting his frustration—he was serious. He genuinely wanted to kill Akira. He needed to run. But the pain in his stomach was too intense to even stand.

The sound of something clattering made Akira look up. He saw Hiroaki lifting a chair. A choked gasp escaped Akira’s throat, and he instinctively curled up, covering his head with both hands.

With a loud bang, the chair struck his arms. It hurts...

"Hey! Knock it off with the chair!"

"That’s too much!"

The sound of desks and chairs scraping around filled the room.

"Let go! I'll kill you too!"

But the next blow never came. Akira cautiously lifted his head and saw Hiroaki struggling as three male classmates held him down by his arms and legs.

"Someone, hurry and get a teacher!" one of them yelled. Soon, their neighboring homeroom teacher, Iketo, burst into the classroom, shouting, "What on earth is going on here?!"

"Damn it!" Hiroaki bellowed, shaking off the three classmates and shoving Iketo aside before storming out of the classroom.

"What happened?!" Iketo shouted as he rushed over to Akira.

"Takatsuka, are you okay?"

Even though Hiroaki was gone, Akira’s body was still trembling. He tried to say he was fine, but when he opened his mouth, blood-mixed saliva gushed out instead. There were screams from the crowd of classmates that had gathered around.

"S-someone call an ambulance..." Iketo's voice trembled, his face pale.

"...I-I'm fine..." Akira finally managed to speak. A tissue was handed to him, and he grabbed several, pressing them against his mouth. No matter how much he spat out, all he could taste was blood.

"Let’s get you to the nurse’s office. Can you walk?"

Akira somehow managed to stand, but the pain in his stomach made him hunch over. In the end, Iketo had to support him as they made their way to the nurse's office.

His mind was a blur of shock, pain, and fear. But as he washed his face and rinsed his mouth in the nurse's office, he slowly began to calm down. Even after rinsing away the blood, his cheek was still red, so he pressed an ice pack against his face. His arms, which had been hit by the chair, were swollen, and the nurse applied some cold patches to them.

"Just to be safe, you should go to the hospital," the school nurse told him.

"I think I’ll be okay," Akira replied.

"Better safe than sorry. It would be terrible if something happened."

Akira knew his own body. Even at its worst, the beatings from his uncle had been worse than this. No one would die from injuries like these.

But Hiroaki had terrified him. The way his entire being radiated a murderous intent was beyond terrifying. If their classmates hadn’t stopped him, Hiroaki might have actually killed him. Those punches, those kicks, the chair—none of it had any restraint.

As Akira lay on the bed in the nurse’s office, his homeroom teacher arrived and asked, "Why did this happen?" Akira simply said, "Hiroaki suddenly came to the classroom and started hitting me." Isahaya must have told Hiroaki about the ZAC incident, and that had set him off. But explaining all that felt too tedious, and his mouth still hurt too much to talk.

The school nurse and his homeroom teacher moved to the corner of the room and began discussing something in hushed tones. Akira curled up under the stiff sheets. He had expected this from the moment he’d left things to Isahaya.

"Takatsuka-kun," the nurse’s voice called out, and Akira opened his eyes.

"Your teacher is contacting someone from your facility to come pick you up."

Pick me up? By who? And where was he supposed to go? He already knew. To that room in the facility where he and Hiroaki stayed. No way. Absolutely not.

"What about Hiroaki?"

"Hiroaki?" the nurse asked, tilting her head.

"The guy who hit me..."

"Oh," she said, touching her cheek. "The boy who hurt you isn’t anywhere in the school right now. Maybe he went home. Don’t worry; you’ll be fine."

Akira let out a dry laugh as the tension drained from his body. This woman doesn’t know that Hiroaki and I share the same room at the facility.

"I’m going to step out for a bit, but you rest until they come to pick you up," the nurse said before leaving the room.

Now alone, Akira felt the throbbing pain in his face, stomach, and arms growing stronger. Where had Hiroaki gone? He doubted he had returned to the facility, but eventually, Hiroaki would have to go back. He had nowhere else to go.

When it was just the two of them again, Hiroaki would definitely attack him. After all, Akira was still alive. The way Hiroaki had looked down at him—that cold, doll-like stare—was not how one looks at a person. Hiroaki hadn’t seen him as human. That’s why he had been able to hit him so mercilessly with that chair.

If he wanted to hurt him, there were plenty of places to do it—on the way back from school, in their room at the facility, somewhere out of sight. But Hiroaki had come all the way to the classroom. He was so enraged that he couldn’t wait until after school, so furious that he didn’t even care about other people watching.

Hiroaki was acting strange. Getting reprimanded for stealing something—such a normal thing—didn’t usually make people want to commit murder. Akira wondered if the staff at the facility or Isahaya had noticed how off Hiroaki was.

If Hiroaki acted all meek and apologized, people would probably believe him. They’d forget that Hiroaki lies so easily and might even think he felt remorse. But Isahaya didn’t get it. He should have known that telling Hiroaki about ZAC would make him come after Akira out of spite, but he hadn’t realized at all.

Hiroaki would come back to their room, pretending like nothing had happened, all while harboring his anger toward Akira. And next time, Hiroaki would definitely kill him.

Akira got up from the bed. His stomach hurt when he stood up straight, so he bent forward as he walked. Since it was during class, he didn’t run into anyone on his way to the shoe lockers at the entrance.

He put on his shoes and stepped outside. If anyone found him, they’d probably try to stop him, so he walked quickly until he reached the back gate. Not five minutes after leaving school, something surged up from his stomach. He couldn’t make it to a public bathroom and vomited into a bush by the side of the road.

Once the nausea passed, he kept walking. His feet naturally carried him toward the abandoned factory near the river.

This place was always quiet, even during the day. When he entered the room where the bats were kept, they screeched from inside the cupboard, likely noticing his arrival.

Akira lay down on a towel. This place was safe. No one knew about it, so he didn’t have to worry about someone coming to hurt him.

The bats screeched from the cupboard for a while but eventually quieted down. Once they stopped, the silence was absolute. Occasionally, he could hear the distant sound of a car passing along the road by the river.

If Hiroaki was around, Akira didn’t want to go back to the facility. So, what would he do? ...He’d have to live on his own. He had to eat to survive, which meant he’d have to work and earn money.

Some kids his age were tall, around 170 centimeters, but he was shorter than the girls in his class. When he wasn’t wearing his uniform, people still asked, “Are you in elementary school?” If he were taller, maybe he could’ve lied about his age and gotten away with it.

But wishing for it wouldn’t make him suddenly grow taller. Even imagining "what if" was pointless. Thinking about everything that had happened and what was coming, his mind started to feel tangled, like a bunch of wires twisted together. He rolled over onto his side. I wish I could just die by tomorrow. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

The stillness of the room pressed down on him all at once. He was alone. He didn’t have parents, and even the people who were supposed to take care of him had abandoned him. No one needed him, and if he died, no one would be troubled. So, maybe it wouldn’t matter if Hiroaki killed him.

But if he was going to die, he wanted to die quietly. He had heard stories on the news about people using charcoal for suicide. They said you could die peacefully, as if falling asleep. That sounded nice.

Death wasn’t anything special. Even in the animal world, children who weren’t protected by their parents were eaten by stronger creatures. Since Akira didn’t have parents, he’d be devoured by a beast. He’d simply stop being able to survive.

Something warm and damp trickled down his cheek. He didn’t know why he was crying. He’d always been alone. He had never been anyone’s special person, and no one had ever been special to him.

I’ll just sleep. He didn’t want to think anymore. He didn’t care if tomorrow never came. As he lay there, the room gradually changed to the lonely hues of the setting sun.

"Gyah, gyah," the bats began screeching again. He ignored them for a while, but they wouldn’t stop, and eventually, he grew worried.

When Akira sat up, his stomach throbbed with pain. It felt like muscle soreness, though, so it wasn’t unbearable. He climbed up to the cupboard and pulled down the noisy box. The bat looked up at him, opening its little mouth wide as it screeched. ...It was just hungry.

Akira grabbed a water bottle and left the factory. As he looked both ways down the road, intending to head toward the river, he saw a familiar figure—a person carrying a white parasol. He had always thought it was a tall woman, but when he looked at the face, something felt off. The makeup was heavy, and their shoulders were broad. The light blue dress didn’t suit them at all. Maybe it was a man.

Their eyes met. Feeling like he shouldn’t keep staring, Akira quickly crossed the road and made his way down to the riverbank. He collected water for the bat and returned to the factory, where he swatted a spider off the window ledge he used as an entrance. Thinking it wouldn’t be enough, he circled the building, looking for more insects the bat could eat.

After changing the bat’s water and replacing the towel in the box, he gave it the crushed spider, and it devoured it hungrily. When the food ran out, it screeched for more, so Akira gave it a bee-like insect and a worm, both of which it ate happily.

Once he had given it all the food he had, the bat stopped crying. He picked it up and placed it on his stomach. As the bat scurried across him, its tiny claws pricked through his shirt, making his belly twitch. The movement sent waves of pain through his bruised stomach. Maybe finding it uncomfortable on his abdomen, the bat crawled up to his chest and finally settled down. Its little body was warm against his chest.

If Akira died, there would be no one left to take care of it. It would surely starve to death.

“You know, you’re only alive because I’m here,” he said, feeling a bit self-important. The bat, as if to say it hadn’t asked for this at all, stayed curled up in silence.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

When the facility building came into view, Akira’s legs froze. He squatted down by the side of the road for a while. Once he’d calmed down, he stood up and forced his trembling legs to move, step by step, until he reached the gate. Nervously, he scanned his surroundings, half-expecting Hiroaki to jump out at him at any moment. He was being overly cautious, but the thought of running into Hiroaki terrified him.

As he reached the entrance, a voice called out, "Akira!" Startled, he looked up to see Tokura rushing out from inside. Akira had never seen her look so panicked.

“Ah... you’re back. Thank goodness... thank goodness,” Tokura said, her fingers gripping Akira’s shoulder tightly.

“...Sorry I missed curfew.”

“Don’t worry about that. Are you hurt? ...Let’s just get you inside for now.”

With Tokura supporting his back, Akira was led to the director’s office. When Isahaya saw him, he stood up from his chair and walked over. Akira braced himself, expecting to be scolded.

But that didn’t happen. Instead, Isahaya embraced him tightly, without saying a word. The warmth from Isahaya’s body was so much greater than that of the bats Akira had taken care of.

"I was so worried about you," Isahaya said softly.

Akira hadn’t died because of the bat. It couldn’t survive on its own, so Akira had decided to keep living for its sake. But now, knowing that there was someone who cared enough to worry about him, to hold him so tightly... even someone like him mattered to someone.

“Let me see your face. Ah... it’s still swollen.”

When Isahaya touched the spot where Akira had been punched, his cheek stung, as if that one area had become more sensitive. Akira felt an intense longing for Isahaya. He wanted this gentle, warm person to look only at him. He wanted him to become his real father. He wanted him to protect him. Akira gripped the fabric of Isahaya’s polo shirt tightly and looked up at his face.

“Can I talk to you alone, Director?”

Tokura hesitated for a moment but then said, “If it’s better for you two to talk man-to-man...” and left the room. After the door closed, Isahaya said, “Tokura was really worried about you, you know.”

“She was really shaken when you didn’t come back by midnight. You’ve always been such a rule-abiding kid, so it hit her hard when you didn’t return. It worried me, too,” Isahaya added, gently patting Akira’s head and picking a small leaf out of his hair with a soft laugh. “When Tokura went to the school to pick you up, you weren’t there. We thought you’d be back by curfew, but when you didn’t show up, we didn’t know if it was an accident, a crime, or if you’d run away. We even filed a missing person report.”

There were children who sometimes snuck out of the facility at night. People had gotten used to Hiroaki’s behavior, but the fact that they had worried so much about Akira made him feel strangely proud.

“...What about Hiroaki?”

“He came back once in the evening but left again. We’re keeping an eye on him for now.”

Hearing Isahaya’s dismissive tone about Hiroaki gave Akira a sense of superiority. And why wouldn’t it? He was the one who had been beaten, who had suffered.

“I knew Hiroaki would get mad,” Akira said.

“Hmm?” Isahaya tilted his head in confusion.

“I knew that when you told Hiroaki about the ZAC incident, he’d get angry and come after me.”

Isahaya’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he fell silent. After a moment, he lowered his head and said, “I’m sorry.”

“He disappeared right after we talked. I never thought he’d go to the school and hit you.”

“Hiroaki told me, ‘I’ll kill you,’” Akira said quietly.

Isahaya’s cheek twitched slightly.

“If I’m alone with him again, he might really kill me.”

Isahaya couldn’t find the words to respond.

“Director, can you protect me?” Akira asked, his voice small but filled with desperation.

After a brief silence, Isahaya looked at Akira seriously, his voice heavy as he said, “I understand.” Then, he nodded firmly.

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