Bitterness of Youth: Part 8

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The wind whirled around Akira's ears with a sharp whoosh. Goosebumps suddenly rose on the back of his neck, and he hunched over, staring at the ground. November had arrived, and just wearing a shirt over a t-shirt wasn’t enough to keep the cold at bay, making him shiver. He knew it would be cold before he went out, but he didn’t have a jacket. Over the past year, he’d grown a lot taller, and last year’s jacket no longer fit, so he’d given it to a middle school student.

To save up for his study abroad expenses, Akira had been delivering newspapers on weekdays since the end of summer, and on weekends, he’d started working a part-time job organizing stock at a supermarket. Today, his shift at the supermarket ended earlier than usual, so the scenery on the way home was a little brighter than normal.

The cold pushed him to walk faster. As he passed through a nearby park, he noticed an unusual level of noise and stopped. His eyes caught sight of a handwritten sign that read, “Blue Sky Flea Market.”

If he remembered correctly, the facility was participating in this flea market. The proceeds were meant for recreational expenses, so even the children helped out. But since none of them owned much to begin with, there wasn’t much to sell. Most of the items for the flea market ended up being things the staff had brought from their homes.

It would be awkward to run into someone from the facility, but taking a detour to avoid it would be unnatural, so Akira decided to walk through the park as usual. Without even looking for it, he immediately spotted the facility's booth. It was in a prime spot, right in front of the entrance, and Kaito was manning it. Sitting alone on a spread-out leisure sheet, Kaito sat with his knees pulled up to his chest, glancing around nervously. There were no adults in sight.

When Kaito saw Akira, he stood up and waved enthusiastically.

"Akira, are you here to take over?"

He asked with a hopeful expression.

"...No. Are you here all by yourself?"

At that, Kaito’s face fell. He had been manning the booth with Ryo, a high school student, but Ryo had gone to the bathroom over thirty minutes ago and still hadn’t returned. …He must have taken advantage of the lack of supervision and slipped away.

Worried about leaving Kaito, an elementary schooler, to handle the money alone, Akira stepped into the booth, deciding to stay until either Ryo or a staff member returned. As the customers passed by, the items on the sheet—a mix of character figurines and old books that the kids had laughed about, saying, “Who would buy this?”—were slowly being picked up by buyers.

A child wearing a hat approached the space, looking to be about Kaito’s age. Glancing to his side, Akira saw that Kaito was still sitting curled up, staring down at the ground.

"Hey, Yonekura?"

The child in the hat called out, and Kaito reluctantly lifted his head.

"What are you doing here?"

In a small voice, Kaito muttered, "Manning the booth."

"I see… You've got it rough, huh? I'll buy something from you."

The kid in the hat picked up a comic book, but Kaito suddenly shouted, "Don't buy it!" Startled, the other kid flinched.

"What’s your problem?"

"You don’t have to buy it."

Annoyed by Kaito’s cold attitude, the kid in the hat pressed his lips into a thin line and ran off. The fact that the facility was struggling with money was undeniable, but for Kaito, the flea market was no different from anyone else trying to earn some pocket money. He didn’t want pity, and Akira could understand that.

"I'm here now, so why don’t you head home?"

Kaito shook his head vigorously.

"...I don’t want to because of Takahito."

Kaito and Takahito were once close friends, but ever since Kaito was set to be taken in by his grandmother in Kyushu, Takahito had started bullying him. Takahito had been abandoned at birth, with no known parents. Many of the children at the facility came from homes affected by abuse or financial hardship, but only two of them, including Takahito, didn’t know who their parents were.

Having always been together, Takahito probably felt a mix of loneliness and jealousy toward Kaito, who was going to live with a relative. Handling such emotions was complicated. It was unreasonable to expect a young child to control their feelings, so all they could do was wait for time to heal the wounds. Perhaps the staff brought Kaito to the flea market to physically distance him from Takahito for a while.

"Being happy is hard work, huh?"

Kaito suddenly said, with an oddly mature expression.

"The director told me that—‘Being happy is hard work.’"

Akira could easily imagine the face and tone Isahaya must have used when saying that to Kaito.

"Well, if it's tough but you end up happy, then that’s fine, right?"

"I don’t get it."

Kaito’s tone was detached, almost dismissive.

"I don’t even know my grandma that well. She might hit me again."

Akira had never met Kaito’s grandmother. He’d only overheard the staff say she seemed like a “kind country grandma” after a visit.

"As long as you behave yourself, I’m sure you’ll be fine."

"Really?"

Kaito looked up at Akira with wide, round eyes.

"People in the countryside are usually laid-back. I doubt she'd hit you."

Akira didn’t really know if that was true, but he said it anyway, hoping to ease Kaito’s anxiety. Kaito responded with a curious “Oh?” and stared at Akira, seemingly impressed.

"So country people don’t hit, huh?"

A small smile spread across Kaito’s face as he laughed softly. Just as they were having this harmless conversation, Tokura, dressed in her tracksuit, returned, calling out, “Oh my, oh my,” as she waddled back, her round body swaying from side to side.

"Akira, what are you doing here? Where’s Ryo?"

Akira told her that Ryo had likely used the bathroom as an excuse to run off. Tokura raised her right hand in frustration and said, “That kid! I’m going to give him a piece of my mind when we get back!”

"Thanks for watching the booth, Akira. You can go home now."

As Akira was about to leave the space, a woman in her seventies approached them. The woman picked up a jacket with an “LA” logo on the back and asked Tokura, “Do you think this would be good for my grandson?” Her gaze then shifted to Akira.

"You there."

She pointed directly at Akira.

"You’re about the same size as my grandson. Can you try this on for me?"

The woman handed him the jacket, and Tokura urged him, "Akira, try it on for her," effectively turning him into a makeshift mannequin. Akira slipped his arms into the jacket as instructed, and the woman began to give more directions: “Turn that way,” “Now turn this way.” After all that, she decided, “This color’s a bit too flashy. My grandson only wears dull colors like black or brown. I think I’ll pass,” and ended up buying only a towel.

After his brief stint as a mannequin was over, Akira started to take off the jacket when Tokura said, “That jacket looks good on you, Akira.”

“It’s too flashy.”

Akira pinched the ribbed cuffs of the bright red sleeves.

“It might be flashy, but that color really brightens up your face. You’ve grown taller, so you’ll need a new jacket this year, right? Take that one home.”

Akira was caught off guard by the unexpected offer.

“But… it might still sell.”

“The flea market ends at 4:30, so we’re almost done anyway. Besides, the director only brought that jacket in today and no one else has seen it, so you should take it.”

Tokura pulled out a paper bag and handed it to Akira.

"Take it home in this bag. I'll tell the director that I gave it to you because it didn’t sell, but keep it a secret from the other kids. Kaito, you keep quiet too, okay?" 

Kaito nodded solemnly at the command. The jacket was too flashy for Akira’s taste, but he was grateful to have gotten it without spending any money. It was also surprising that Tokura, who Akira thought didn’t pay much attention to him, had noticed that he didn’t have a jacket. Maybe she was watching, even if it didn’t seem like it. 

Tokura was rough around the edges and didn’t dote on him, but she wasn’t a bad person. 

"Kaito, you go home with Akira too. The other staff will take care of the cleanup." 

The two of them were dismissed together and left the park. As they walked, Kaito, who was walking with his head down, tugged on Akira’s shirt. 

"Akira, can I stay in your room until dinner?" 

"Sure," Akira said, and Kaito let out a small sigh of relief. He probably didn’t want to run into Takahito. It was tough for him to deal with all these relationship issues, especially as an elementary schooler. Akira felt bad for him. 

"Akira, I’m glad you got the jacket," Kaito said, hopping beside him as they walked. 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"Good things happen to nice people like you," Kaito said cheerfully. 

Akira stopped walking, and Kaito stopped too. 

"Why do you think I’m nice?" Akira asked. 

Kaito stretched up to look him in the eye. "Because you don’t bully anyone or say bad things about people. The director always tells us to be good like you." 

So, Isahaya saw him as a model child. Akira had always wanted to be seen that way, and hearing that made him feel a little happy. 

"I’ve been trying to be good too," Kaito continued, "so I can go live with my grandma. Since you’re nice and good, that’s why Hiroaki died." 

The words hit Akira like a cold gust of wind. 

"People don’t die because of things like that. Good people die too, sometimes." 

"That’s not fair!" Kaito shouted. 

Akira looked up at the sound of a shrill cry. A black bird was flying through the dusky sky. After a few crows flew by, he noticed another dark shape flying in a different way. It was… 

"A bat!" Kaito exclaimed, running off, and Akira quickened his pace to follow. The bat flew quickly, darting between rooftops, and soon disappeared from view. Maybe it was the same bat he used to take care of. Bats can live for up to twenty years… 

"Akira, your bat is dead," Kaito said, turning back to look at him. His eyes were filled with pity, and Akira couldn’t help but wonder how Kaito knew about the bat. He forced a bitter smile. 

"It’s not dead. It just flew away." 

"I saw a cat biting it. It died, and the director said, 'Poor thing,' and buried it in the yard." 

Akira’s fingers grew cold. 

"Don’t lie." His voice shook. 

"I’m not lying. The director told me, 'This was Akira's bat, but don’t tell him because it’ll make him sad if he knows it’s dead.'" 

At that moment, all the sounds around him faded away. Akira pressed his hand to his forehead. What had Isahaya said when he returned from America? That the bat had flown away… that it had escaped… 

He was jolted back to reality by a tug on his shirt. Kaito was clutching it, his face on the verge of tears. 

"I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to say anything, was I?" 

"No… it’s fine." 

Akira gently pushed Kaito away so as not to be rough, then slowly began walking again. The bat was dead. Isahaya had lied. …Or maybe Kaito was the one lying. 

But if Kaito were lying, what would he gain from it? If it wasn’t Kaito, then it meant Isahaya had lied. But there was no way Isahaya would betray him. So Kaito must be lying. Should Akira confront him here? But… 

"Kaito," Akira called out. Kaito, still walking with his head down, looked up sharply. 

"Do you remember where the director buried the bat?" 

"Under the ginkgo tree." 

Without a moment of hesitation, those small lips spoke the answer.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Isahaya wasn’t there. Since there was no car, he must have gone out. Akira had gone back to his room for a moment but found he couldn’t sit still, so he went out to the garden, with Kaito following behind him.

Akira stared intently at the base of the ginkgo tree, where yellow leaves were strewn across the ground. 

"Over there," Kaito said, pointing. Akira crouched down and began to carefully dig with a stick at the spot Kaito indicated, brushing aside the leaves. The tip of the stick struck something hard, causing his heart to race. Pulling it out, he found a small stone, and he felt relieved before throwing it away. 

There were no bones. As he continued to dig through the dirt, his stick got caught on something again. This time it was white and hard. As he dug further, a thin piece of wood-like material started to come out, which looked like the bone of a small animal. 

"Did the bat turn into bones?" Kaito murmured, peering into the shallow hole. As if to bury that whisper, Akira placed the dirt back over what looked like a bone. 

"Kaito—" 

From near the entrance to the garden, Ishimoto was watching them. 

"Come over here for a moment." 

When Akira ordered Kaito to go, he dashed over to Ishimoto. Akira placed a branch over the dug-up earth and washed his hands at the water faucet next to the entrance.

After turning off the water, Akira exited the facility’s gate. He walked and walked until he reached the abandoned factory near the river. He stepped into the room where he had always hidden the bat. It was silent; no more cries could be heard. It had been quiet here ever since the bat had disappeared. 

Outside, darkness had completely fallen. He had to return before curfew, or he would be scolded. Even knowing that, he couldn’t bring himself to go back and sat down on the ground. 

That wasn’t a bat; it was a dead rat or kitten. The rat was inside the facility, and it wouldn’t be surprising if one of the kids found a dead one and buried it—like Kaito, perhaps… 

…He understood. He didn’t want to accept that the bones were from the bat. Accepting that would be proof that Isahaya had lied to him. 

He had thought it was strange. How could something that couldn’t fly suddenly be able to fly as soon as he was gone? Still, he believed Isahaya’s words. He had never imagined that Isahaya could lie to him. 

Why had he lied? Because he had said he would take care of it but let it die? Because he was afraid of being scolded by a child for his own shortcomings? …Even if that were the case, he wished Isahaya would just honestly tell him, "I took my eyes off it for a moment, and it got bitten by a cat and died." 

He might have been angry. After all, he had asked Isahaya to take care of it and would have wanted him to watch over it more closely. Still… he didn’t want to be lied to. 

His heart throbbed like it was being pierced by a thin needle. His eyelids grew hot, and tears trickled down his cheeks. They overflowed one after another, and as he looked down, they fell onto the grass that had grown through the cracks in the concrete. 

People lie. He knew that. Hiroaki lied as easily as he breathed, and even his kind aunt had lied to him. He himself lies too. He had lied to Kaito, saying that country people wouldn’t hit, but that was for Kaito’s sake—not his own. 

Certainly, if he hadn’t known the truth, it might have been easier to think that the bat was still alive somewhere. But even if it was painful, he wanted to know the truth. 

He slowly began to sift through his memories. Last summer, when the window was open and cicadas were chirping… Hiroaki’s bones were still in the corner of the room. The distinctive smell of bones resurfaced in his nostrils. Isahaya had never shown any expression that suggested he doubted that statement or acted awkwardly. He had lied with his usual expression. 

A chill ran down Akira’s spine, and his upper body trembled. His aunt had never looked at the child when she lied. She had not wanted to meet the accusing eyes of her nephew because she knew her own lies. Isahaya was different. He looked straight into the eyes of the child he deceived without making it feel like a lie. When someone could lie so calmly, it was impossible to notice. 

Isahaya was kind. He was kind to other children too, but Akira had thought he was given a little more attention. He was surely recognized as a good child who excelled at studying and served as a role model for everyone. That might have been nothing more than an act to make him believe that. 

Behind the gentle smile directed at him, Isahaya might have thought he was unfriendly, inflexible, and troublesome. 

He couldn’t understand people’s hearts. He couldn’t, but he had thought that there was no difference between the parts Isahaya showed him and those he didn’t. 

…He was scared. He was scared of Isahaya. 

As night fell, everything around him turned pitch dark. Silence and darkness enveloped him like a thick curtain. He hated it. He didn’t want to be betrayed. Crouching on the dusty concrete, Akira felt desperate not to be disappointed by people, especially Isahaya, whom he trusted. 

Isahaya had told Kaito not to tell Akira that he would be sad when he found out the bat was dead. Perhaps he had genuinely believed that, but the way he tried to deflect blame directed at him was cunning. That kind of thing isn’t right. He wanted an apology. He wanted Isahaya to apologize to him. If he did, he could forgive him. If not, he wouldn’t be able to forgive Isahaya… and he wouldn’t be able to trust anyone anymore. 

The one causing him pain was Isahaya. But the one who was supposed to save him was also Isahaya.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

By the time Akira returned to the facility, the light from the vending machine seemed blinding. Ishimoto, who was at the reception desk, spotted him and poked her head out from the small window. 

"Akira!" 

He heard Isahaya’s voice, and his body trembled. When he lowered his head, he realized Isahaya had come closer, probably standing by the reception desk. "You’re late," he said, his voice now nearby. 

"It’s already 7:30. Why didn’t you come back before curfew? Your part-time job ended long ago, didn’t it?" 

His tone was the same as always, not particularly angry. When Akira didn’t answer, Isahaya sighed in mild exasperation, like a parent dealing with a stubborn child. 

"Come to the director’s office." 

His footsteps grew distant. Akira couldn’t move, so Ishimoto gently touched his back. 

"Go on, Akira. If you explain, the director will understand." 

Akira wanted an apology from Isahaya, but at the same time, he didn’t want to face him. He didn’t understand himself, his emotions muddled and contradictory. With heavy steps, he made his way to the director’s office. 

When he opened the door without saying anything, Isahaya was standing by the wall. The window was wide open, and the cold wind blowing in made the curtains flutter. Beyond the window, there was nothing but a dark night that seemed to swallow everything. 

"Are you cold?" Isahaya asked. Even though Akira didn’t answer, Isahaya closed the window. 

"Why were you late getting back today?" 

His voice was calm, not angry. Akira raised his head and looked directly at Isahaya’s face. He wore his usual polo shirt, his slightly wavy hair in place, and his eyes were gentle. …He didn’t look like someone who would lie. 

Noticing Akira’s gaze, a smile softened the corners of Isahaya’s mouth. 

"Oh, I heard from Tokura. You helped out at the flea market in Ryo’s place, didn’t you? Thank you for that." 

His eyes crinkled with warmth. 

"I’m grateful, but you still need to follow the curfew. I always tell the kids to be like Akira. If the role model doesn’t follow the rules, I won’t know what to say to the others next time." 

Before knowing the truth about the bat, those words would have made Akira proud, feeding his self-esteem by showing that Isahaya thought of him as a "good child." He would’ve naturally said, "I’m sorry." But now, Akira couldn’t help but wonder what Isahaya really meant. 

Was he only calling him a "good child" because it made him easier to handle, and a better example for the other kids? Was he deliberately molding Akira into that role? Akira shook his head slightly. He didn’t want to doubt anyone. He didn’t want to feel this way. 

Isahaya’s expression shifted, his smile tightening into something more serious. 

"Did something happen?" 

Should he ask? Should he say, "My bat—it's dead, isn’t it? You hid the fact that a cat killed it, didn’t you?" What would happen if Isahaya confirmed it? If he said he didn’t tell him because he thought it would make Akira sad, would that be enough? As long as he apologized, wouldn’t that be fine? 

But what if he denied it? What if Isahaya said, "That’s not true"? Who should Akira believe then—Isahaya or Kaito? 

The words hovered at the back of his throat, but he couldn’t get them out. As time passed in silence, Isahaya finally sighed, seemingly giving up. 

"If you don’t want to talk, I won’t force you." 

The way he said it felt cold, like he was pushing Akira away, and it made Akira’s chest tighten painfully. 

"But I do want you to follow the curfew. As long as you live here, the rules are the rules." 

A sudden urge to spill everything overwhelmed him. He wanted to explain that he’d heard the bat had died, killed by a cat, and that’s why… 

"You’re a hardworking, good kid. I don’t want you to disappoint me." 

His eyes stung. He fought back the tears that threatened to fall. Isahaya was disappointed in him. All the effort he’d put into being a "good child" seemed to be crumbling. 

"You can go now." 

His legs wouldn’t move. What did he want? He should just tell the truth—that there was a reason he hadn’t come back on time. He should just honestly explain how he felt. If he did… 

"I said you can go." 

In that moment, the door that had been slightly open in his heart closed with a soft thud. The cold words kicked him out, and with a slumped posture, Akira left the director’s office. 

"Oh, Akira." 

In the hallway, Ishimoto called out to him. Glancing around, she lowered her voice to a whisper near his ear. 

"…You haven’t eaten yet, have you? There’s a packed dinner in the fridge. Please have it." 

Though touched by her kindness, Akira shook his head. 

"You don’t want it?" 

Thank… you. He whispered his thanks and returned to his room. He climbed to the top bunk of the bunk bed and buried his face in the sheets. 

It was his fault. He hadn’t followed curfew, and that’s why Isahaya had scolded him like he always did with kids who broke the rules. But still, still, still… 

In the end, nothing was resolved. He hadn’t been able to ask Isahaya about the bat. He was too afraid to find out the truth. He didn’t want Isahaya to hate him. He couldn’t bear the thought of Isahaya hating him. 

He had been by his side for four years. He’d felt superior, believing he was special, that Isahaya cared about him more than the others. His mind whirled like it was being spun in a blender, unable to find a place to settle his feelings. 

What if… What if Isahaya had lied? Was it just about the bat? Or had he lied about other things too? 

Akira realized he no longer understood who Isahaya truly was.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

In December, Masato came to visit. In front of the high school gate stood a man wearing a striking yellow down jacket that practically screamed for attention. Just as Akira thought how noticeable he was, the man rushed toward him.

"There you are! I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes!" 

Masato grinned widely. 

"Not being able to reach you by phone is really inconvenient. I didn’t know which high school you went to, so I ended up following you on your way to school. Felt like a stalker!" 

He shrugged his shoulders playfully, tilting his head to peer into Akira’s face. 

"Surprised that I showed up out of nowhere?" 

Akira couldn’t tell him that he thought he’d never see Masato again because of Richard’s lies. 

"...Yeah," he mumbled, deflecting. Masato squinted his eyes and let out a laugh. 

"I can’t let anyone from the facility see me, so I’ve been sneaking around like a ninja." 

He puffed out his chest with a comical expression, and Akira couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

"By the way, are you free tomorrow around noon?" Masato asked. 

Tomorrow was Saturday. Normally, Akira had a part-time job at the supermarket, but they were closed for repairs, so he had the day off. After a brief pause, he asked, "Why?" 

"Don’t be too shocked," Masato said with a dramatic flair. 

"Actually, Dick’s in Japan." 

Akira’s breath caught. 

"He’s here promoting his new movie, which is being released in Japan. Since he’s also taking a vacation, he’s got some free time. Would you meet him?" 

Akira hesitated, and Masato, noticing, nodded emphatically. 

"I get it. I know it’s against the facility’s rules to meet him. But it won’t take long, and it’s not like he’s going to kidnap you or anything… You don’t want to? Apparently, Dick pushed really hard to add a Japan stop to his promotional tour just so he could see you." 

During the three days in America, Richard had been incredibly kind. But he was a liar. People had two faces, like Akira’s aunt or even Isahaya. Since the day he broke curfew, Akira hadn’t been able to look Isahaya in the eye. Before, he craved Isahaya’s attention, but now, he couldn’t bear to be in his line of sight. Isahaya had acted the same as usual after scolding him, but Akira had been avoiding him so much that eventually, Isahaya stopped speaking to him as often. Last month, Tokura had casually mentioned, "The director’s been complaining, saying, 'Akira won’t talk to me anymore. Teenagers sure are tough.'"

No matter what anyone said, Akira couldn’t stop avoiding Isahaya. He found comfort in not being seen. As long as he wasn’t seen, he wouldn’t be judged. 

"If you’re busy, just a little while is fine," Masato added. 

Because of Isahaya, Akira didn’t want to see Richard either. He didn’t want to be betrayed again by someone he once thought was kind. Richard coming to Japan was strange. If they met, Richard’s lie about not sending any financial aid would be exposed. What was he thinking? Akira couldn’t understand.

"Even one minute is enough," Masato persisted. He didn’t know. He didn’t know that Richard had deceived him. He was asking this favor without knowing the truth.

"Well…" Akira began. 

"It’s been a long time since I last saw him…" 

"It’s fine. I’ll be there to translate, so you won’t be alone. Okay?" Masato pressed, and before Akira knew it, he’d agreed to meet Richard. It wasn’t like they’d be talking for long. It wouldn’t just be the two of them, and it’d only be for a short while—he kept telling himself that. But when he went to bed, the anxiety gnawed at him, and he couldn’t stop worrying.

What if Richard, despite not actually providing any aid, acted like he was supporting Akira in front of everyone? If he told the truth, not only would Richard be disappointed, but Masato might be too. Whatever they felt, that was Richard’s true nature, but as Akira thought about it, he grew restless, unable to sleep a wink.

That day, a strong wind blew outside, bending the branches of the ginkgo tree visible through his window. After noon, Akira put on his jacket and left the facility. The meeting place was a large hotel in the city—so tall that looking up at it made its peak seem unreachable, as if it soared into the sky.

A man dressed like a foreign military officer, with a uniform and cap, stood by the entrance. His straight posture made him seem like a doll, too intimidating to approach. While Akira hesitated, pacing around, the man approached him and kindly asked, "Can I help you with something?" 

When Akira explained that he was meeting someone in the lobby, the man politely guided him, treating even a child with respect.

The hotel lobby was as large as a small auditorium. The ceiling was high, and a large round table in the center held an ornate vase filled with vibrant flowers, as if for a graduation ceremony. 

Despite being in a Japanese hotel, there were many foreigners around. The men wore suits, and the women, beautiful dresses with long coats. There wasn’t a single child in jeans and a jacket like Akira.

"Akira!" 

The voice was so loud that people nearby turned to look. With pale blond hair and light blue eyes, Richard came rushing toward Akira with his arms wide open, his eyes glistening as he enveloped Akira in a tight embrace. 

[Hey, Dick! I told you, there’s no hugging in Japan!] 

John’s irritated voice followed close behind. Thanks to his year of intense study, Akira could understand the English. 

[Oh, right!] 

Richard quickly pulled away but still nuzzled Akira’s cheek affectionately. Then, once again, with a booming voice that echoed through the lobby, Richard spread his arms wide. 

[John, look! Akira’s wearing the jacket I gave him!] 

At that moment, Akira’s face twitched. The jacket Richard gave him? What jacket? Richard, still smiling, patted Akira’s shoulder with his large hand. 

[I wasn’t sure what kind of style you’d like, but I figured no boy could hate basketball, right? That jacket’s a special edition from when the team won the championship. And just as I thought, it looks perfect on you.] 

The way Richard rambled on seemed strange. That jacket had been at the flea market. It had nothing to do with Richard. Why was he telling such an obvious lie? 

[Akira doesn’t understand English, you know,] John muttered, sounding exasperated. 

[Oh, right!] Richard straightened up and said in clumsy Japanese, "Akira, hello." Akira was surprised to hear Japanese come from lips that had been speaking only English.

"I’m sooo happy to see you!" 

Akira couldn’t respond, and John, with his hands on his hips, gave a wry smile. 

[Come on, Dick, I heard you’ve been taking private lessons, but your Japanese isn’t getting through to Akira at all.] 

Richard’s pale face flushed faintly. 

[I’ve been studying! But Japanese is so stiff, it’s hard to speak and even harder to understand. And Lily never spoke Japanese to me...] 

[Still…] John lightly scratched his thinning hair. 

[It’s a bit of a problem if we can’t even talk to Akira without Masato.] 

Richard let out a small groan. 

[He’s going to be about fifteen minutes late. Japanese trains are usually as precise as a clock, but there was an accident, and he couldn’t get off or catch a taxi. I should’ve had the interpreter from the interview stick around.] 

The air around them started to buzz. Akira thought it was because of their loud voices, but it wasn’t that. People nearby were whispering, glancing at Richard. A young, beautiful woman approached and, in English, asked, "Excuse me, are you Richard Carlisle?" When Richard nodded, her face flushed, and she asked for an autograph, saying she’d been a fan for a long time. Richard gladly signed and shook her hand as they parted.

[Seems like it’s getting too much to stay here. How about we go to the room?] John lowered his voice, and Richard turned to Akira. 

"Room go?" he asked. 

[Come on, 'Go' is English. Your Japanese is really something else,] John said, shaking his head as if to say, "Hopeless." 

[I just made a little mistake.] 

As the two bickered, Akira spoke up. 

[I can speak a little English.] 

Richard turned around with a loud "Oh!" His light blue eyes sparkled. 

[I’ve been studying. But there are still some words I don’t understand.] 

[That’s amazing, Akira!] Richard exclaimed, spreading his arms wide. 

[Your pronunciation is beautiful! Did you learn English just so you could talk to me?] 

John smacked Richard’s head from behind. 

[Stop twisting everything to suit you. Look at Akira’s face—he’s clearly confused. Japanese students learn English in school, but Masato already told you that most of them struggle with speaking.] 

Since Akira could understand English, they moved to Richard’s room. The room was so spacious that it looked like it could fit all the children from the facility sleeping on futons. Sunlight poured in through the large southern window, and in the distance, the sea was visible. 

The sofa Akira was invited to sit on was so soft that his hips sank halfway into it. 

[I’m really happy to see you again, Akira,] Richard said, grinning from the sofa across from him. 

[Is there anything troubling you in life? Anything you want?] 

Akira knew that whatever he said, it wouldn’t be granted, so he replied, [I’m fine.] 

[I heard from Masato that you’re working part-time. If the support I’m providing isn’t enough, don’t hesitate to ask for more.] 

Whether it was enough or not, nothing had ever reached Akira. How long was Richard going to keep up this charade of being the "kind man who supports his lover’s child" in front of everyone? Even though his lies had already been exposed... Did he think Akira, knowing the truth, felt nothing? 

The more Richard’s lips spewed lies, the more Akira felt something resembling pity, more than anger, rising within him. This man was pitiful. They would likely never meet again—and Akira didn’t want to meet him. If that was the case, maybe he could go along with this farce, just for a little while. 

[Masato told me you’ve grown taller. You really do look like Lily,] Richard said reflectively. John, sitting beside him, nodded in agreement. 

[Akira, do you like chocolate?] Richard asked abruptly. Akira, who neither particularly liked nor disliked it, nodded. Richard walked to the corner of the room and opened a large suitcase. 

[I’ve got a gift for you,] he said, returning with his arms full of items. He placed a pile of sweets and clothes on the table in front of Akira, who was stunned. Richard picked up a box of chocolates. 

[This is from Hawaii. They say it’s delicious. And these clothes are from a brand that’s super popular among American teens. Do you know Jason Bluera?] 

Akira shook his head, having never heard of him. 

[He’s a really popular actor right now. He’s two years older than you and has become a fashion icon for boys. His stylist picked these out. This brand is going to be huge in Japan, trust me.] 

It didn’t stop there. Shoes, bags, hats—all were presented in succession. John, looking astonished, said, [Hey, don’t tell me that whole suitcase is filled with gifts for Akira?] 

After Richard finished laying out the gifts like a flea market, he said, [Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing,] and pulled out a box. 

[Take a look inside.] 

Urged on, Akira opened the lid. Inside were nearly thirty DVDs. 

[These are movies your mother starred in. The ones with a Japanese release were bought by Masato. The older ones, which were only available on VHS, were transferred to DVD. The dates are marked, so if you want to see your mother when she was younger, start with the older ones. I also digitized all the private films I had.] 

The scent of overpowering flowers and the image of his mother, as if she were a doll, flooded Akira’s mind. 

[You see,] John leaned forward from beside Richard. 

[I told him he should’ve sent these earlier. I knew this is what Akira wanted. But this guy insisted on showing Akira the most beautiful version of Lily, so he spent forever editing the old VHS tapes. That’s why it took so long.] 

[...Thank you,] Akira said quietly. 

Richard’s light blue eyes shimmered, and then tears suddenly fell. 

[It’s the least I could do. I kept your mother to myself until the very end. If I could turn back time, I wouldn’t have just refused when she said she wanted to return to Japan—I would’ve asked her why, and even forced her to marry me. I should’ve brought you over from Japan, so we could’ve lived together. But this is all the result of my own weakness.] 

Akira’s heart began to tremble, and he instinctively pressed down on the brake. This man was a liar. He was an actor, so of course, he could pretend to be remorseful…

The room's doorbell rang. Masato had arrived. Bowing slightly, he murmured, [Sorry for being late]. Noticing Akira, he raised his right hand and said, "Hey."

When Masato found out that Akira had become capable of speaking English, he was surprised. After the four of them spent about an hour chatting idly, John suddenly looked at his watch and said, [Dick, it's about time]. Even though they were on vacation, Dick had a meeting scheduled with some film industry people.

[I'd rather stay with Akira a bit longer. Is it okay if I skip?] 

Richard whined, and John, like a father scolding his child, said, [Don't be childish].

[Do you have any idea how I managed to squeeze in the time to come to Japan, with a schedule tighter than a mouse hole?]

[But, it's been a year and a half since we last met.]

In the end, since Richard would just keep sulking if he stayed, he decided to leave. Despite Akira saying he could take the train back, John arranged for a taxi, insisting, [You have a lot of luggage, right?]. Masato, who happened to have something to do in the same direction, joined them.

At the time of parting, Richard, on the verge of tears, said, [I'll come see you again], and waved until the taxi disappeared down the street.

As the taxi swayed in the back seat, Akira pondered Richard's performance. He genuinely seemed happy, but also looked as if he were sad. But Akira wasn’t going to be fooled by anyone anymore.

"Hey, that jacket looks good on you."

Masato complimented him. It wasn’t really Akira’s style, and he wasn’t fond of the flashy red color, but people often complimented him on it.

"Thanks."

When he expressed his gratitude, Masato chuckled.

"I got to watch the LAC finals with Dick; he invited me. It was such an exciting and emotional game that I couldn’t help but stand up and cry at the end. That jacket is a rare item, hard to come by. Dick said, 'I absolutely want to give this to Akira,' and it seems he actually bought it."

Akira slowly turned to face Masato.

"Richard bought this?"

"Yeah, he did."

"That’s strange."

The words slipped out of his mouth.

"Why do you think it’s strange?"

Akira grabbed the cuff of the jacket. After all, it was something left unsold until the end of a flea market, and Tokura had secretly given it to him because he didn’t have a winter coat. It wasn’t supposed to be his possession.

His fingertips trembled slightly. Who brought this jacket to the flea market? Didn’t Tokura say it was Isahaya?

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t stop. If this really was the jacket Richard had bought, why did Isahaya have it? If the support Richard talked about was really happening, where was the money going?

Akira covered his mouth with his hand. His stomach churned...

"Are you okay? You look pale."

He felt sick, and sweat began to form on his forehead. Masato pulled the taxi over to the side of the road, and at the same moment, Akira dashed out and vomited into the gutter. Masato hurriedly got out and patted his back. Once his stomach was empty, even the urge to vomit produced nothing.

He didn’t want to get back into the car, so he had them take the luggage out. From here, it wasn’t too far to walk home. Masato offered, "I’ll walk you close to the facility," but Akira declined. He wanted to be alone as soon as possible.

"...Masato-san, can I ask you a favor?"

"What is it?"

Masato tilted his head and peered into Akira’s face.

"Could you tell Richard-san to stop supporting me?"

Masato blinked in surprise.

"Why?"

"...I don’t need it."

"Are you worried about Dick? If you really care about him, the best thing you can do is accept his support with a smile and occasionally tell him, 'I want this,' and indulge him a bit."

"But..."

His fingertips trembled.

"Dick seems to be overjoyed just thinking about doing something for you. John said that after Lily passed away, Dick couldn’t do anything anymore. He stayed by the coffin the whole time and didn’t even want to let her be buried. But after you came, he changed. His desire to support you, Lily’s last memento, helped him recover."

That goodwill wasn’t reaching its intended recipient. The gifts he supposedly sent hadn’t even made it into Akira’s hands, ending up in a flea market instead...

"You should accept the support. If you don’t use it, save it for your university tuition. Just think of Dick as a dad working away in America."

...In the end, Akira couldn’t firmly insist on stopping the support. After parting ways with Masato, he carried his souvenirs and headed to the abandoned factory.

In the dusty room, he hid the clothes, hats, and bags he’d been given in a cupboard. If he brought back so many things, people would start asking questions. He couldn’t come up with a good excuse. Why, why was he doing this? As he pondered that, his foot slipped. He fell backward, scattering the DVDs he had been holding all around.

Dust danced in the evening light. His back hurt, his head hurt. As he tried to gather the scattered DVDs, his hand stopped. He turned all the DVDs over. On each one was a different picture of his mother’s face. In each photo, she was smiling. Amid the scattered DVDs, a piece of paper had fallen. He picked it up and saw that it read, in awkward Japanese, [To always have the most beautiful mom by your side].

It was undoubtedly a message from Richard. Even though he had been studying Japanese, he could barely speak it. Writing it must have been even harder. A tear fell onto the note, smudging the words. It wasn’t because he was sad. But it wasn’t because he was happy, either. He didn’t even understand his own feelings.

He wanted to be treated kindly. He wanted someone to care about him. But he didn’t want to be treated kindly. He wanted to be left alone. Being alone was lonely. But kindness was scary. It made him happy, and that was terrifying.

Sitting on the floor, he stared blankly at the orange-tinted window in the sunset. Richard’s support—the money was probably with Isahaya... Most likely. He hadn’t mentioned anything about receiving money, and he hadn’t given him the gifts that had been sent. What was Isahaya doing with them? He clutched the front of his jacket. …At the very least, he couldn’t believe Isahaya was carefully keeping the gifts for him.

Isahaya wasn’t wearing new clothes. For a while, he had taped together the broken part of his glasses’ frame, and only recently did he finally replace them. He wasn’t living extravagantly.

He recalled Ishimoto’s words—that the facility was struggling financially, and that Isahaya was covering the shortfall. Was his money being used for that? If it was for the facility, if Isahaya wasn’t using it for himself, then maybe it was okay. Even if it was indirect, you could say it was being used for his sake.

But the allowance a child receives from their parents is something that no one else should interfere with. Richard’s support was like an allowance to him. If he wasn’t told about the support, does that make it "theft"? Even if the money was being diverted to operational expenses.

What should he do? Should he tell someone? But who? A teacher at school? Or one of the facility’s staff? It would be easiest to talk to Ishimoto, but would he believe this kind of story?

The word "police" crossed his mind. If he reported Isahaya and, as a result, the facility had to shut down, what would happen to the children living there? They might be scattered and sent to other facilities. No one would want to leave a place they’re used to, and it would be sad to be separated from the staff. The staff could even lose their jobs. He didn’t want to cause trouble for anyone. He didn’t want to make anyone sad. Even without Richard’s money, he could still survive at the facility. If he just endured it, everything would stay the same. Nothing would change.

A lying, cunning Isahaya. He loves children and is kind, but now his smile felt cheap, like a toy. People betray people. No matter how many years they’ve lived together, no matter how kind they are, they’ll betray you. Every adult he knew was like that.

So, is Richard the same? Even if he cared about him so much, even if he was kind and said nice things, would he eventually betray him too? If so, he didn’t want to rely on him. He hated being betrayed and lied to. If he was going to be disappointed, it was better not to have any expectations from the start.

Akira clenched his fists tightly. He wanted to grow up quickly. He wanted to become an adult as soon as possible, even a minute or a second sooner. Because he was a child, because he had nowhere else to go, he ended up relying on others. If he could live alone without relying on anyone, he wouldn’t have to feel this way. He wouldn’t have to feel frustrated, lonely, or sad.

He had behaved well, studied hard, listened carefully to what the staff said, and never told lies that would hurt others. He tried to be the model child that Isahaya and the staff expected. But the adults he was supposed to look up to lied. How could he trust anyone now? He was too scared to show anyone what was in his heart.

White flowers. So many flowers. His mother was as beautiful as a doll. She went to America after divorcing his father, and then she died. Since she’s dead, she can’t say anything anymore. No matter how much he loved her, that beautiful person would never betray him.

It was as if the light had dimmed, and suddenly everything around him went dark. After a while, the sound of rain enveloped him. He had to go back. But he didn’t want to go back. If he broke curfew, he’d be called to the director’s office. Just imagining facing that liar made his chest feel like it was being painted over with darkness.

...He walked back slowly. His hair and jacket were soaked, and raindrops trickled down his neck, making his body shiver. At first, it was unbearably cold, but once he was completely soaked, his senses dulled, and he didn’t feel anything anymore. If he hadn’t gone to see his mother that summer in his third year of middle school, he wouldn’t have known about Richard, wouldn’t have received any support, and would have left the facility believing that Isahaya understood him.

Even if he hadn’t known his mother’s face, even if he had never met Richard, maybe his heart would have been more at peace. But he couldn’t turn back time.

...He saw the facility’s gate ahead. His feet stopped. He stood there for a while, in front of what he had to face.

Enough. He turned on his heel and retraced his steps. Even if it’s lonely, he’d rather be alone. He’d rather be alone and not be betrayed by anyone. When he returned to the abandoned factory, silence awaited him. Silence filled only with the sound of rain. It was freezing cold. He stripped off his wet clothes and crawled into a towel that smelled of dust, completely naked. That made the cold a little more bearable. His wet hair felt cold. It’s cold... Thinking about how cold it was, Akira eventually fell asleep.

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