The first presentation of the afternoon was a show featuring men’s suits created by first-year fashion school students. They’d all used the same pattern, but each suit’s fabric was unique. Garments by students whose work wasn’t in the show were simply displayed on mannequins, but the suits coming down the runway were tailored to fit the student models perfectly—after all, fit would be a critical factor in the instructors’ evaluations.
When we returned to the auditorium where the shows were staged, we found it full of way more spectators than that morning. We’d gotten back late, and there was only standing room left. I leaned against the wall as I waited for Mike-san’s turn. I was still disgruntled about her situation; frankly, I didn’t want to see her forced to walk the runway in a suit, but it felt wrong to abandon her. There was conviction in her decision to appear before us dressed like that.
After the first few suits, it was finally Mike-san’s turn to stride onstage. A cheer went up from the students. Some yelled “Mike!” in support—they were probably well aware of her usual appearance. Mike-san smiled in response, walking the runway with her shoulders pulled back and her head held high. Seeing her immediately took me back to junior high.
After my classmates found out I dressed like a girl, I desperately practiced looking and acting as masculine as possible. I stopped walking pigeon-toed and began to strut casually with a hand stuck into my pocket. The night after I cut my hair, I wept secretly in bed. It took every ounce of strength to withstand the pain of, say, replacing my pencil case or removing the keychains from my school bag.
I was in front of my apartment complex’s trash room, about to dispose of the teddy bear I cuddled every night, when Ichika appeared.
“Are you throwing that away?” she asked when she spotted me locked in place. “You love that teddy bear, Riku. Why get rid of him?”
“People call me gay because I have stuff like this.”
I was desperately trying to snuff out every trace of girlishness in my room, but I just couldn’t bring myself to get rid of my teddy bear. He was my beloved partner; I couldn’t sleep without him. I’d cuddled him so much over the years, his fur was worn.
“Can I have him, then?” Ichika reached out to take the bear and cradled it. “I’ve always had my eye on this little guy. Do you mind if I sleep with him from now on?”
Ichika had lots of other toys in her room. She kept some stuffed animals arranged in front of her pillow. They were in much better shape than mine and were made of softer material. The thought of adding my shabby teddy bear to the mix made me pause.
“You can come to my room and see him anytime you want, okay?”
When Ichika said that, the true meaning of her actions finally dawned on me. She was the only one who saw up-close how hard I was attempting to blend in at school. She was trying to protect me so I wouldn’t lose everything precious to me.
Funnily enough, even without my teddy bear, I wasn’t scared at night. I slept tight in comfort, knowing Ichika was cuddling the bear in the apartment next door, in a room with the exact same layout as mine.
All Ichika had ever done was protect me.
After we watched Mike-san walk the runway and leave the stage, I stepped away from the wall. “Sorry, Iguchi. I gotta head out for a bit.”
“Why? Mike-san’s show is coming up.”
“I’ll make it back as soon as I can.”
As I stepped out of the dark auditorium, the outdoor light dazzled me. The fashion show’s pounding music still thumped euphorically in my head, and I dashed toward the subway station as though the beat was propelling me. By the time I’d gone home and returned, Mike’s show would probably be over. The evaluation might be done too. Every minute—every second—mattered.
I was in such a rush that my phone slipped out of my pocket and hit the ground. The impact cracked the screen, but I didn’t have the luxury of time to be upset. When I checked to see if it still worked, I noticed Ichika had sent a single text.
“My thing finished up, so I’m heading to the festival now. Hopefully I’ll be in time for the show.”
The junior college she’d visited was in the opposite direction from the beauty school. To get to the show, she’d have to pass the station closest to our apartment complex. When I checked the time stamp on the text, I realized it hadn’t been too long since she messaged me.
I hurriedly dialed her number but couldn’t get through. If she was on the subway, she might not pick up. I felt too flustered to text, though, so I tried calling again and again.
“Hello? Riku?”
“Where are you right now, Ichika?” I practically screamed.
In contrast, Ichika’s voice was hushed. She was probably trying to conceal the fact she had answered her phone after noticing my unusual barrage of missed calls. “On the subway, at the station by our house. It’ll still be a while until I get there.”
“You need to get off that train and go home!”
Perhaps the fierceness of my demand surprised her. The sound of the train pulling away a few seconds later told me she’d responded instinctively and disembarked at our local station.
“Stop by my apartment,” I continued. “I need you to bring something over.”
“Got it. Did you forget something?” She asked where it was.
I heaved an internal sigh of relief that I hadn’t hidden the item in her room. It would’ve taken much longer to find there. “It’s in my closet. At the bottom of the clothing bin in the very back.”
“What should I take out?”
I always depended on Ichika. Someday, I’d have to make it up to her.
“My white cocktail dress from our school festival.”
If I showed someone else the same kindness Ichika treated me with, could I finally get past always acting like a spoiled child?