It all started when he came to the class, Sota thought.
Before he showed up, Class 5-2 at Kusumichi Elementary had revolved around Toranosuke Nakao. Both of Toranosuke’s parents were lawyers, and he’d maintained excellent grades and fulfilled every expectation set by adults since the first grade.
“Just what I’d expect from the son of two lawyers.”
“Just what I’d expect from such an education-focused mother.”
Toranosuke’s mom was famous at the school for being extremely dedicated to her boy’s tutelage. She was proactive around the school, a PTA committee member every year, and she acted as a sort of leader for whatever grade Toranosuke was in. The other moms always contacted her. Sota’s mom often remarked how amazing it was that the woman did so much for her child despite having a job.
Toranosuke was an unquestionably excellent student. He was also tall, large, strong, and good at sports.
However, Sota didn’t care much for Toranosuke. And many classmates who got along with Toranosuke shared that sentiment, even if they refused to admit it.
He was a bossy, violent braggart.
Since he was better in class and outside, he assumed he was the most important kid of all.
“I’ve already done all of this stuff at cram school, so things here feel really dumb to me,” he repeated constantly. He often didn’t finish his homework and forgot to bring textbooks and other supplies. “There’s no point in reading my textbook,” he’d say. If someone in class forgot their book, the person sitting next to them had to share, meaning Toranosuke constantly made things harder for kids near him. Sure, he did excellently on tests, but he was a real slob in terms of personal habits.
On top of that, he was a fickle sort, given to unpredictable moods. He would hit and kick people out of nowhere. It didn’t matter if you had done nothing to deserve it.
Sota had been kicked several times himself.
It was a frequent occurrence; usually, there was nothing to do but suck it up. Last year, however, Toranosuke had been angry over something and punted a chair that was on top of a desk during floor cleaning. Sota happened to be passing by, and the chair landed on top of him. It banged against his knee, which turned an ugly shade of red.
That became an actual issue. Sota’s mom came to the school and had a lengthy discussion with his teacher. Apparently, the teacher apologized for the injury.
But Toranosuke had never said sorry to Sota for hurting him. He was clearly grumpy as the teacher scolded him, pouting magnificently while silently leaning against the wall.
The teacher had talked to Toranosuke for a long while, yet the boy had never apologized. He’d just stuck to his guns, insisting, “It wasn’t on purpose.”
The teacher had promised Sota and his mom that she would visit Toranosuke’s mom and have a discussion at her home.
The morning after the incident, Toranosuke held up a smartphone and told Sota, “Hey, did you know your mom sent my mom this?” All the other kids had special children’s cell phones. Toranosuke, who had a smartphone of his own, liked to boast, “What, you guys are still using those baby things?” No one was allowed to bring a smartphone to school, but that didn’t stop him.
Sota’s knee had recovered after a day, but it was still tender enough that it hurt when pressed hard. The parts that had been red were starting to bruise up.
Toranosuke kept the screen pointed at Sota. Unable to resist the silent pressure to look, he finally took it and saw the LINE app on the screen. Sota didn’t have his own phone, but he’d seen his mom use LINE a few times before.
At the top were the words Sota’s Mom (Sachiko). The body contained a screenshot of a message Sota’s mom had sent to Toranosuke’s mom.
To Toranosuke’s Mom:
I’m sorry to contact you out of the blue. I’m sure you’re busy.
The school just called me to pick up Sota. They said that Toranosuke kicked a chair in the classroom, and it hit my son’s leg. He wasn’t hurt very badly, and Sota seems to be doing fine, but you should hear from the school soon, and I thought to let you know first so it wouldn’t be a surprise.
When I went to the school, I saw Toranosuke, too. I know he wouldn’t do something like that for no reason, and that he’s a very smart boy, so I asked him, “Why did you kick the chair?” And he said, “I don’t know.”
I asked, “Really? Well, I care about Sota, and I care about you. I don’t want either of you to get hurt, so please be careful.” I wonder what happened with Toranosuke? Sota cares about Toranosuke, too. I hope they remain good friends. Thank you.
Below that was the reply from Toranosuke’s mom. It was much shorter than Sota’s mom’s text, just two brief messages.
No way! I’m sooo sorry. Did Toranosuke really do that, Sachiko?
Thanks for letting me know. I just got word from the school, so I’ll head over.
That was all that was on the screen.
Sota felt at a total loss. He returned the phone to Toranosuke, totally uncertain how he was supposed to react. Toranosuke just smirked at him.
“Your mom’s kinda freaky, huh?” He grinned even larger than before. “My mom showed this to my dad last night. She was like, ‘Look what Toranosuke did,’ and I got yelled at. But they also said, ‘Who sends an essay like this out of nowhere? What a freak. It’s scary.’”
Sota envisioned his mother’s face.
She’d examined his reddened knee the day before and asked, “Are you all right, Sota?” Again and again, she said, “Are you sure you don’t need to see the doctor?” to which he replied that he was fine. She took a cold pack from the fridge and wrapped it in a towel to place on his knee. Sota recalled the feeling of her hand on his skin, and his ears went red.
His mom had written that message for Toranosuke’s mom. He remembered her fiddling with her phone on the way back home, but he’d assumed at the time that she was telling his dad about what had happened.
Sota was too young to be familiar with the word essay, but he understood the implication. A message that was too long. “Freak.” “Scary.”
What was he supposed to say? To feel? One thing was very clear: Toranosuke would never apologize, and his parents had made fun of Sota’s mom. And him.
The very long and polite “essay” that Sota’s mom had typed out had earned nothing but a line or two of text in answer.
Now it sounded like his mom was the one with the problem. What did this mean? Mom must have known that I don’t like Toranosuke. She wrote “Sota cares about Toranosuke, too,” just to make his mom feel better. So why did they say that about her? It hurts.
Why? Because Toranosuke’s mom was on the PTA, and that kind of made her the boss of all the other moms? That didn’t give her the right.
And why had Toranosuke shown this to him? It was as if he were bragging. Had Toranosuke’s mom let him take that picture from her screen?
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.
When the teacher showed up that day, Toranosuke hid his phone and gave Sota a very hollow, “I’m sorry for yesterday.”
The teacher was pleased, and told Sota, “There. Toranosuke spoke with his parents and has learned his lesson. It’s time for you to forgive him, Sota.”
After that, they had to turn in papers about friendship for Japanese class. Toranosuke wrote, I hate people who pick on their friends. People who pick on their friends are evil. I’ve heard that people who stop bullying get targeted by the evil bullies. But I want to be the one who stops the bullying. I want to help my classmates.
Despite the pain and frustration, Sota couldn’t say a thing about that ridiculous paper. All he could do was remind himself to keep far away from Toranosuke.
Not long after that, Niko Kanbara joined the class.
The name Niko sounded like a girl’s, but the child introduced up by the blackboard next to the teacher’s desk was a small, skinny boy with glasses.
“My mother and father gave me the name Niko as a shortened version of nikkori, or ‘smile.’ You can just call me Niko. It’s nice to meet you all,” he said, bowing politely.
Maybe he was teased for the name at his old school. The boy with glasses proved to be a diligent student who got good grades and an avid reader who often visited the library during lunch break and after school. Sota’s mom told him that his mother enjoyed books, too. She was a member of the school’s story time committee.
“Niko’s mother is rather strange, giving her son that distinct name. I wonder if that family has a lot of quirks,” she said.
Sota’s mom wasn’t part of the story time committee, but she’d heard about Niko’s mom from an acquaintance who was. She didn’t explain what exactly made Niko’s mom “strange,” though. Instead, she asked Sota, “Is Niko a little odd sometimes?”
“Umm. Well, he’s smart and responsible, and sometimes he talks a little funny, I guess.”
All those books he read gave him a more grown-up vocabulary.
Sota’s mom hummed. “Has anything happened between you and Toranosuke?”
“Not really.”
“You’re in the same group in class, right?”
“Yeah. So is Niko. Niko’s the group leader,” Sota replied.
His mom made it sound incidental, but he felt she was more concerned about Toranosuke than Niko. She’d never admit it, but she clearly didn’t want Toranosuke involved with her son.
“I see,” she said breezily, conveying that she wasn’t concerned. And then, truly incidentally this time, she added, “I hope you get to be good friends with Niko.”
The next day, Niko stopped before the chart of flower-circle stickers at the back of the classroom.
“What are these, Sota?” he questioned.
Sota was on cleaning duty, sweeping the floor nearby with a broom. “Oh, those are flower-circle stickers. If nobody in your group forgets anything, or you answer lots of the teacher’s questions during class, the teacher will give your team one.”
There were rows for each group, one through six, with stickers lined up next to them. Despite being called “flower circles,” they were just regular red dots. Everyone did their best to get as many as possible, but there wasn’t any prize for having them. The first-place group didn’t get a special award. However, the competition got everyone fired up, and the kids did their best to win, if only to avoid losing to the other groups.
“Our group doesn’t have many stickers,” Niko noted, eyeing Group Five’s standing.
Sota nodded. Of course they didn’t. “It’s because we have Toranosuke.”
“Is having him a problem of some kind?” asked Niko. If anything about this boy was strange, it was his precise way of speaking.