Bitterness of Youth: Part 7

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From the airport to the facility, Akira took a series of trains to get home. He felt bad about asking Isahaya, who was busy, to come pick him up, and besides, he still had the money Richard had given him. Just as Masato had instructed, Akira exchanged it at the airport, and was shocked at how much it turned into. It was twenty times his monthly allowance... He got scared and quickly tucked it away in his wallet.

It was just after noon when he returned to the facility. As he passed through the concrete gateposts, the familiar building came into view. Dragging his suitcase, he reached the entrance, where Tokura, the caretaker, noticed him and called out, "Oh, Akira, welcome back!"

"I'm home."

"Wait here for a second," Tokura said as she disappeared into the reception area. In her place, Isahaya appeared, wearing a T-shirt and shorts.

"Welcome back, Akira. If you'd called, I would’ve come to pick you up at the airport."

"I figured out how to transfer between trains."

Isahaya’s gaze fell on the brand-new suitcase.

"Where did you get that?"

"The people over there bought it for me."

Isahaya smiled. "That's nice. Do you have a minute to talk?" he asked, inviting Akira into the director’s office.

After dragging his suitcase all the way from the station, Akira was drenched in sweat. Although the windows in the director’s office were wide open, there was no breeze, and the room was stiflingly hot. Sweat continued to pour from his forehead.

In the corner of the room, as always, was Hiroaki’s urn, and the familiar smell lingered. Akira couldn’t help but think, Was the director’s office always this small? Richard’s house had been spacious and grand. The three days spent in that mansion, which felt like a castle, now seemed like a dream.

"You must be tired. Have a seat," Isahaya said.

When Akira sat on the worn-out sofa, his sweaty back made his shirt stick to him uncomfortably.

"How was your trip to America?"

Akira thought back to the wide roads and the dirty cars. The landscape, free of tall buildings, stretched out as far as the eye could see.

"It was big."

Isahaya chuckled softly. "Did you get to see your mother's face?"

Akira nodded silently.

"What did you think?"

He thought for a moment. "She was like a beautiful doll."

"I see," Isahaya replied with a nod of understanding.

"I think… my mom was happy over there."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because the man she was living with seemed like a good person."

Isahaya leaned back on the sofa, exclaiming in surprise, "Your mother had a lover!"

"He was really kind. Honestly… I thought I didn’t need to see my mother’s face, but I’m glad I went."

Akira spoke openly. He was glad he got to see her beautiful face. He was glad he saw her moving, her voice… even if it was only on film. He was grateful for the kindness he had received from everyone. The decision to go—pushed forward by Isahaya—had been the right one.

"I’m glad to hear that. It makes it worth having pushed you to go," Isahaya said, narrowing his eyes in satisfaction. Akira glanced around the director’s office, remembering something.

"What about my bat…?"

Isahaya’s previously cheerful expression suddenly grew serious. A bad feeling crept over Akira.

"About that…" Isahaya sighed heavily. "It disappeared two days ago."

"What?"

"You said that bat couldn’t fly, right?"

Akira nodded vigorously.

"Well, the day after you left, it started flying around the room. I was keeping an eye on it until I could get a birdcage, but when I stepped out of the office for a moment, it flew over to the reception area and then right out the window."

…Akira couldn’t believe it. Even though the bat had been quite active, it had never shown any signs of trying to fly in front of him. But, since it had been eating a lot, perhaps its wings had slowly healed over time.

"I’m sorry."

"It’s fine. I wasn’t really keeping it as a pet."

If it could fly, then it could return to its companions. Though it had been quite attached to him, and not being able to see it one last time made him sad, there was nothing he could do.

Akira left the director’s office and returned to his room. After Hiroaki’s death, Nakamura had moved back to the two-person room for high schoolers, leaving Akira on his own. He placed his suitcase next to his desk and climbed up onto the bunk bed.

When he closed his eyes, his mother’s face floated hazily in his mind. The peaceful face from her final rest and the vibrant smile from the film alternated. America is amazing, he thought. To be able to keep someone’s body in such a beautiful state even after death—it’s like magic.

He touched his own cheek… It felt different. The wooden frame of the bunk bed was much too hard. His mother’s cheek had been just a little softer than this.

He pulled back the blanket and ran his hand over the thin mattress beneath. This was probably the closest thing to the feel of his mother’s skin. Lying facedown on the bare mattress, exhausted from the long trip, Akira fell into a deep sleep, drenched in sweat, until one of the staff woke him for dinner.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Exactly one week after returning from America, Akira was called to the director's office. He had no idea what it was about, but when he was told that his mother's lover, Richard Carlisle—the blond man with pale blue eyes—wanted to adopt him, he was stunned.

"Since your mother and Mr. Carlisle were not married, there is no legal relationship between you. If you were to go to America to live with Mr. Carlisle, it would have to be in the form of adoption. In America, it's not uncommon to adopt children from other countries, but for a child from a Japanese facility to be adopted by a foreigner, especially at your age, it's difficult due to issues like human trafficking. Moreover, Mr. Carlisle is single. I don’t think the application would be approved, as it would be deemed an unsuitable environment for raising a child."

In the early days after coming to the facility, there had been a few talks of foster parents. At the time, Akira had turned down all offers, fully believing his aunt would come to take him in. Now, he no longer expected anything. Even when his aunt was the one who notified him of his mother’s death, she hadn't spoken a word beyond the necessary information, as Isahaya had mentioned.

This sudden talk of adoption caught him off guard. Richard Carlisle’s chest had been warm, and his fingers, which had stroked Akira’s head, were kind. Even without understanding the language… he was a good person.

"In my opinion," Isahaya said, "if your mother had been married and Mr. Carlisle were Japanese, I would have supported this. But the conditions are just too difficult this time. Ultimately, the decision is yours, but I think it’s best for you to stay here and continue your education at a Japanese high school. You're a good student, and you might even be able to attend a prestigious private high school on a scholarship."

To be honest, Akira wanted to go with Richard. He didn’t care if he didn’t understand the language. If Richard had cherished his mother so much, maybe he would cherish Akira, too. Maybe he could become like a father to him.

A struggle played out inside him between the part of him that wanted to go and the part that tried to stay rational. Isahaya had judged that becoming Richard’s adopted son would be difficult. He didn’t know what the process entailed, but it would likely trouble not just Isahaya, but Richard too. He didn’t want to burden kind people. If someone like Isahaya, who had been looking after children for so long, believed it was best for Akira to stay and get a high school education here, then that must be the right choice. And yet… Akira clenched his eyes shut, trying to shake off the gentle memories of Richard stroking his head.

“…I’ll stay here.”

Isahaya nodded approvingly. “I think that’s for the best.”

"I’ll call Mr. Carlisle myself to explain. I think it’ll be better to talk directly rather than by email. I never imagined my experience studying abroad would come in handy in a situation like this."

"…Um," Akira began.

"What is it?"

"Can I write a letter?"

Isahaya tilted his head slightly. “A letter to Richard? To tell him you’re turning down the adoption but that you appreciated his offer?”

"Or maybe an email would be better?"

Isahaya folded his arms thoughtfully. "I think a letter would feel more personal. Why don’t you write it as airmail? Bring it to me when you’re done, and I’ll make sure it gets sent."

Akira wrestled with a dictionary for three days, carefully writing a letter to Richard. He thanked him for all he had done, explained that he had to decline the adoption, but expressed how much it meant to him that Richard had even considered it. He poured his heart into each word, making sure his gratitude came across.

When he handed the finished letter to Isahaya, he asked him to check if there were any mistakes. After quickly reading it over, Isahaya smiled. "You did a good job. I’ll write the address and send it for you." When Akira offered to pay for postage, Isahaya winked mischievously. "This one’s on me, but don’t tell anyone."

From the spring, when everything with Hiroaki and his mother had begun, to the end of summer, Akira’s heart had gradually found peace. There was a kind man overseas who had even gone so far as to offer to adopt him. Isahaya was always looking out for him and guiding him to the best path.

The situation with his aunt still left a bitter feeling deep in his chest. The lies, the lack of apology, the fact she never came to take him in… But dwelling on that wouldn’t help. He had to think about living here, about growing up and becoming an adult.

…It wasn’t bravado. He truly felt that way now, deep in his heart.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In the spring, Akira enrolled in a private all-boys high school as a scholarship student. The conditions were strict—he would lose his scholarship if he fell out of the top twenty in his grade—but it was convenient because he could walk to school from the facility.

Although he wasn’t uninterested in joining a club, it seemed like it would cost money, and as a scholarship student, he couldn’t afford to let his grades drop, so he decided to focus solely on studying for the next three years.

At school, he had access to the computers in the audiovisual room, which he could use with permission from a teacher, unlike the computers in the office at the facility, which were reserved for Isahaya and the staff. Using them, Akira researched the technique that had kept his mother so beautifully preserved—embalming.

Most of the search results led him to foreign websites. The translations weren’t great, so he struggled with a dictionary in hand as he read through the pages. As Masato had mentioned, embalming was common practice in America.

“A Beautiful Farewell.”

The slogan, though just a simple advertisement, resonated deeply with Akira. His mother’s death had been beautiful. When he closed his eyes, the first image that came to mind was her peaceful, sleeping face. Despite the clear presence of death—motionless, speechless—he had never felt unhappy.

When Hiroaki died, Akira hadn’t been able to see his face. It was as if his existence had been suddenly cut off, like a string snapping. Because of that, Akira had never been able to fully associate Hiroaki with the concept of death. His mother had been different—beautiful, as though she were sleeping, but undeniably dead. Seeing her that way had helped Akira process his feelings.

As he continued his research, he learned that embalming could restore a body even if it had been disfigured by a gunshot or a severe accident. Hiroaki had been in such a bad state that his face couldn’t be shown to anyone. If embalming had been an option, if Akira had been able to see Hiroaki’s face after death, perhaps he could have felt a clearer sense of “closure.”

The idea of a beautiful end wasn’t just for those left behind, but also for the person who had passed away. Akira realized that many people probably sought such a death. The more he learned about embalming, the more he became fascinated with this rare profession in Japan.

To become an embalmer, one needed specialized knowledge and skills. While there were specialized schools in Japan, there were many more mortuary science universities in America where embalming was taught, with well-rounded curriculums and abundant hands-on training opportunities. As Akira learned more, his desire to study in America grew stronger by the day.

He wanted to go to college. If he could secure a scholarship, he’d be able to attend, and there were precedents at the facility of students who had successfully graduated from university. But studying abroad seemed impossible; it would cost too much.

Unable to give up on the idea, Akira kept researching and discovered that there were scholarship programs for studying abroad. If he could qualify for one of those, maybe he could make it work.

Money was the key. Akira decided that he would save as much as possible during high school. Even if he received a scholarship that covered tuition, he would still need to live on his own in America. He wanted to save enough to study for at least a year. If his money ran out, he could take a break from school, work to save more, and then return to his studies.

The classes in America would be in English. He would need to develop his English skills enough to live there comfortably and keep up with the coursework. With that in mind, Akira started working part-time and saved enough money to buy a discounted ZAC, an old-model media player. He loaded every English listening CD from the school library onto it and listened to them whenever he had free time.

He considered asking Isahaya to help him with English conversation, since Isahaya was fluent. But if he were asked why he was studying English so intensely, he wouldn’t know how to explain it. Even going to college in Japan was a challenge; someone as realistic as Isahaya would surely tell him that studying abroad was impossible. And if Isahaya told him it was impossible, Akira knew he would end up giving up. No matter what, he didn’t want to give up.

So, he studied to maintain his grades, worked part-time, and listened to English endlessly, even during breaks. He barely spoke with the classmates who had advanced from middle school with him. He didn’t need friends. Any time spent on idle chatter was time he could use to improve his English comprehension.

During summer vacation, he continued his routine of part-time work and library visits, as regularly as if he were still attending school. If possible, he wanted to clear the TOEFL minimum required by the American universities he was interested in by the end of his first year of high school.

On the last Sunday of August, as Akira was walking toward the station to go to the library, someone called out to him.

“Hey.”

“You’ve grown taller.”

A man wearing sunglasses smiled at him familiarly. Akira didn’t know who he was, but something about him seemed suspicious, like someone pretending to be an acquaintance—a new kind of scout, maybe.

Ever since Akira had started growing taller—no, ever since he entered high school—strangers had frequently approached him on the street. People from the entertainment industry would ask if he was interested in acting or modeling, and he always turned them down. If he had time to listen to their offers, he’d rather spend it studying.

Akira must have been wearing an expression full of suspicion because the man’s friendly smile dropped into a disappointed frown.

“Did you forget me?”

The man removed his sunglasses. Akira’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Could it be… Masato-san?” He hesitantly said the name.

“That’s right, it’s been a year,” Masato replied, patting Akira on the shoulder. It was Daniel Masato Austin, the interpreter who had helped him when he went to America last year. His hairstyle had changed, and with the sunglasses, Akira hadn’t recognized him at first.

“What brings you to Japan?” Akira asked.

Masato chuckled softly. “My grandfather lives here, so I came to visit. I lived in Japan until I was twelve, you know. And Dick asked me to check on you while I was here.”

“Dick?”

Masato scratched his head with an apologetic smile. “Oh, sorry. I forgot that might not be familiar to you. Dick is a nickname for Richard.”

Richard Carlisle. The American man with golden hair and pale blue eyes, his mother’s lover. Just thinking about him warmed Akira’s chest.

“Dick would be amazed if he saw how much you’ve grown. You’re looking more and more like your mother.”

Akira had grown twelve centimeters (4.7 in) over the past year, though he was still on the shorter side when lined up with his classmates by height.

“Every time Dick sees me, he talks about you. ‘Can you believe Akira was only fifteen? He was so small and delicate, like a little girl… I hope he’s eating properly.’”

It made Akira happy to know that Richard still remembered him and talked about him. After writing that letter declining Richard’s adoption offer, Akira hadn’t received a reply. He had been worried that he might have upset him.

Masato wiped the sweat from his forehead. “It’s hot, huh? Do you have time to chat? I’d love to hear how you’ve been.”

Akira also wanted to hear more about Richard, so he agreed, and the two of them headed to a nearby family restaurant.

Masato ordered an iced coffee, while Akira got a cola. Masato hooked his sunglasses onto the V-neck of his shirt and sighed, "Summers in Japan are so humid."

"LA’s hot too, but it’s a different kind of heat."

He fanned himself with his hand and casually asked, "So, where did you go for vacation?" Hearing the word "vacation" made Akira feel a little awkward since no one around him ever used that word.

"I didn’t go anywhere."

Masato gave him a perplexed look, spreading his arms wide. "It’s summer break. Don’t you hang out with friends? Or is there some rule at the facility that kids aren’t allowed to enjoy vacations?"

"Kids who have homes probably go somewhere with their families. But I don’t have a home to go back to, and I’ve been busy with work and studying."

Masato folded his arms and let out a small "Hmm."

"Are you working part-time because there’s something you want to buy? Like a car?"

"You can’t get a driver’s license until you’re eighteen," Akira pointed out.

"Oh, right," Masato said, clapping his hands. "In America, you can get one at sixteen. I forgot. But if not a car, then what else? A computer, maybe?"

Akira shook his head. "I can only stay at the facility until I graduate high school. If I want to go to college, I need to save up for living expenses and tuition while I’m still in high school."

"Why not just ask Dick for help?" Masato said nonchalantly, nearly causing Akira to choke on his cola.

"Richard was just my mother’s boyfriend," Akira said.

Masato sighed. "If Dick heard you say that, he’d be heartbroken. He’s itching to help you. Not only would he happily pay your tuition, but if you asked, he’d probably buy you a car or even a house."

Akira almost replied, That’s impossible… but stopped himself. The memory of Richard’s mansion, as large as a castle, flashed through his mind.

"Besides, Dick plans to support you until you graduate from college."

Suddenly, Akira’s mind cleared. "…Support?"

"Yeah. If what he’s already providing isn’t enough, and if you’re uncomfortable asking, I can talk to him for you."

Akira felt lost. He had never heard anything about Richard supporting him. Isahaya had never mentioned it either.

"You should let Dick help you out more. Enjoy your time as a student. His wish is for you to be happy. In fact, why not come back to America for a visit? Dick would gladly cover your travel expenses."

Even though Masato kept suggesting different ways to spend the summer, none of it registered with Akira. The word "support" kept circling in his head.

Leaning closer over the table, Masato added, "Actually, you’re my lucky boy. I’ve always loved movies, but I didn’t have the talent to be an actor. Still, I wanted to work in the industry, so I got a part-time job at a studio. When John found out I spoke Japanese, he asked me to interpret for you. That’s how I got close to Dick, and through him, I got introduced to a movie company. Now, I work there."

"So," Masato continued, "I want to help you and Dick out."

Akira’s throat felt dry. I haven’t received any support from Richard, he thought. He’s lying… But if he told the truth, it might change how Masato saw Richard. It was better to keep quiet.

The warm memories Akira had of Richard were starting to cool. Why would Richard tell a lie so easy to expose? Was he just trying to look good by pretending to support a poor kid? Was he really that vain?

About ten minutes later, Masato mentioned he had another appointment and suggested they leave the restaurant. The sun outside was glaringly bright.

"See you around," Masato said as they parted ways. But then he called out, "Wait a second!" Akira turned to see him pulling a camera from his bag.

"Mind if I take a photo?"

Akira nodded, and Masato snapped a few pictures.

"What are you going to do with those?"

Masato smiled. "Dick asked me to take them. I’d completely forgotten." He tucked the camera back into its case.

"It’s tough with the strict rules at the facility, huh? Even though Dick is supporting you, he can’t meet you. He’d need permission to see you, and apparently, that can take years under Japanese law. I get it—it’s to protect kids from things like human trafficking—but it still seems pretty nonsensical."

I’ve never heard anything about needing permission for a visit… Akira thought. Sometimes abusive parents had visitation restrictions, but Richard wasn’t even his parent, and it’s not like he’d been abused. Was Richard lying again? Lying about supporting him, and then lying more to cover up why they couldn’t meet?

Masato, with a shrug, said, "I figured I could just come see you directly since the people at the facility don’t know who I am. But I didn’t want to risk any trouble if they found out I’m connected to Dick, so I waited until you were away from the building."

He smiled. "Maybe it’s against the rules, but I think it’s okay to chat with you and let Dick know how you’re doing."

With that, Masato waved and walked away, saying he’d see Akira again.

Akira went to the library as originally planned, but even with his notebook open, he couldn’t focus on studying. The conversation kept replaying in his mind. Richard’s lying to make himself look good… But if that were true, why would he ask Masato to check on him? Wouldn’t the lie about supporting me fall apart as soon as Masato spoke to me? If Richard didn’t want his vanity exposed, he wouldn’t have asked Masato to look in on him in the first place.

People aren’t always what they seem, Akira thought. He had only spent three days with Richard. Richard had been kind, had hugged him tightly, had even thought about adopting him. But why would he tell such a meaningless lie? Supporting me… A lie…

As those uncomfortable feelings churned inside him, a thought struck him: What if Richard’s support isn’t a lie?

Children at the facility received a set amount of living expenses from the government each month. Their allowance was also included in that, about 5,000 yen per month, which was deposited into their bank accounts. Once they reached their third year of high school, they could manage their own accounts, but until then, all the money in their accounts was handled by the staff, and they had to request money whenever they needed it.

Perhaps there was money from Richard accumulating in his bank account, and he just hadn’t been told. If that were the case, wouldn’t Isahaya have said something like, “You’re receiving financial support from Mr. Richard”?

If Richard really was providing support, why hadn’t Isahaya mentioned it? Did he think that knowing Akira was getting more than just his monthly allowance would make him waste money? Akira had always spent his allowance wisely and carefully…

While he couldn’t withdraw money from his account without permission, he could ask a staff member to show him his passbook. If he checked it, he would be able to see whether there was any financial support from Richard and whether Richard had been lying or not.

Akira hurried out of the library and rushed back to the facility. As he approached the entrance, he noticed the facility’s car wasn’t there. Isahaya, who usually drove it, was probably out. That was perfect timing.

If Isahaya was aware of the support and had chosen not to tell Akira, he might refuse to show him the passbook if the money had increased. In that case, another staff member might be more willing to help.

Akira peered through the reception window and saw Ishimoto in the back. She noticed him and called out, “Welcome back, Akira. You’re back early today.”

Akira stayed silent, and Ishimoto stood up from her desk and walked over to him. “What’s the matter?” she asked.

“Where’s the director?” Akira asked.

“He’s taken Yuna-chan to the dentist. She suddenly had a terrible toothache and caused quite the commotion,” Ishimoto said with a tired smile.

After Hiroaki’s death, Ishimoto had lost a lot of weight. At the funeral, she had tearfully apologized to Isahaya, saying, “If only I had been stricter with him about his overnight outings… I’m so sorry.” Isahaya had comforted her, telling her, “It wasn’t your fault. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”

A year had passed since then, and Ishimoto finally seemed to have regained her energy.

“I’d like to see my passbook,” Akira said.

Ishimoto tilted her head. “Is there something you want to buy?”

“No. I’m just curious about how much I’ve saved.”

Akira had expected more questions, but Ishimoto simply retrieved the passbook from a drawer by the wall and handed it to him without hesitation.

His fingers trembled slightly as he took it, and he opened it with nervous anticipation. The monthly deposits were neatly listed: 5,000 yen from his allowance, along with his part-time job earnings. The balance was 120,000 yen. He flipped back through the pages, all the way to last summer, but there were no deposits that seemed to be from Richard’s financial support. As I thought… Disappointment spread through his entire body.

He returned the passbook to Ishimoto, who sighed sympathetically. “It’s only natural to worry about that. You want to go to university, right? Even with a scholarship, it’ll be tough to cover living expenses.”

That wasn’t the reason Akira had asked, but he nodded vaguely in agreement. Now that it was clear Richard hadn’t been supporting him, Akira didn’t feel as shocked as he thought he would. It wasn’t nearly as painful as when his aunt had lied to him.

Leaving the reception area, Akira headed to the kitchen for a drink of water. He sensed someone nearby and turned to see Ishimoto standing there, looking at the spice shelf with a memo in her hand. It seemed she had followed him, but she wasn’t paying him any attention.

“…What are you doing?” Akira asked.

Ishimoto pressed the back of her pen to her temple. “Checking the spices. I meant to do it yesterday but totally forgot. If we don’t stock up during sales, it’ll cost more when we run out.”

“I see,” Akira muttered. “That makes sense.”

“That’s right. Saving comes first,” Ishimoto laughed, but from what Akira had seen, the meals at the facility were already quite modest. It didn’t seem like they were indulging in any kind of luxury.

“Is it that bad? Do you need to save that much?”

“Rice has gotten expensive recently, so we’ve run into a bit of a deficit,” Ishimoto admitted, then quickly added, “But don’t worry, Akira. It doesn’t mean you should hold back on eating. I know you’ll try to be considerate, so I’m telling you not to.”

“What do you do when the money’s not enough?” Akira asked.

Ishimoto tried to brush off the question, saying, “That’s not something for you kids to worry about.”

“…Do you borrow money or something?” Akira pressed.

Ishimoto’s expression tightened, and she shifted into her professional demeanor. “It’s really fine. You don’t need to be concerned.”

"The shortfall from government aid is being covered by the director," Ishimoto explained. Akira nodded in understanding, but it still bothered him. Isahaya didn’t live a luxurious life. When visitors or inspectors came, he wore a suit, but otherwise, he was always in a polo shirt or tracksuit year-round. Akira had even seen staff mending Isahaya’s torn clothes. He certainly didn’t seem to have much extra money.

"Is the director okay financially?" Akira asked.

Ishimoto lowered her eyes and replied, "I think so."

"We keep records of what we spend money on, but the final accounting is all handled by the director. So we don’t really know how he manages it. In many places, when there’s a deficit, the first thing to get cut is the employees’ salaries, but the director doesn’t do that. I imagine it must be hard on him."

She continued, "That’s why we’re always trying to save as much as we can."

After speaking so brightly, Ishimoto suddenly apologized. "Sorry, you probably didn’t want to hear all that talk about money."

"It’s fine," Akira replied.

"Don’t worry about anything, Akira. The finances and running of the facility are things we adults need to handle. You should focus on yourself."

For Akira, the facility had been his home for the past four years. Isahaya was like a father, and Tokura was like a mother. Even if he had to share them with other children, they were still his family. Thinking about the people at the facility who cared for him only intensified his frustration with Richard’s lies. That man had no responsibility to the child of his lover. If he wanted nothing to do with Akira, he should’ve just left him alone. But his need to show off, to look good, was infuriating. Akira hated it.

In a way, he was relieved. If Masato hadn’t mentioned it, Akira would never have seen Richard’s true colors. He might have spent years believing in the man’s fleeting whim of wanting to adopt him. One betrayal from someone Akira had once loved deeply—his aunt—was enough.

"Hey," Akira called out to Ishimoto.

"Hmm?" She turned to him.

"Here, if a parent has been abusive, their visits with their child can be restricted, right?"

Ishimoto paused, then cautiously nodded. "Yes."

"But is there any other reason someone’s visits might be restricted?"

"No, not at all. You kids may live in a facility, but you're just like any other child. As long as you follow curfew, you're free to meet with whoever you want."

As Akira suspected, the claim that Richard was restricted from visiting because he was a foreigner wanting to adopt was a lie. In that moment, Akira mentally placed Richard in the same category as his aunt—a grown-up who lied for selfish reasons or to maintain appearances. He locked the box in his mind where he kept thoughts of Richard, sealing it shut. He wouldn’t open it again.

Back in his room, the air was thick and oppressive, probably because the window had been shut. From outside, Akira could hear children playing. When he opened the window, he saw three kindergarteners splashing around in a small inflatable pool in the yard. Somehow, Isahaya had also returned and was in the pool with them, his pants rolled up to his knees. One of the children squealed in delight and clung to him, causing Isahaya to fall backward into the water with a big splash, prompting cheers from the kids. Tokura called out playfully, "Director, what are you doing?"

Akira looked away from the peaceful scene and flopped onto his bed. What is it with people? Why do adults lie? Why be kind, only to betray? If betrayal is inevitable, why be kind in the first place? Bitter memories bubbled up. He had trusted his aunt. He had thought that even if he wasn’t her top priority, she might at least love him enough to keep him second or third. But she had lied to him and abandoned him.

Suddenly, he remembered Hiroaki, who had often lied too. Children lied, and apparently, that didn’t change when they grew up. Akira found a strange sense of understanding in that thought.

…He knew, deep down, that Masato would never come to see him again. That, he was sure of.  

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