Chapter 17: Bony hands.

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Translated and Edited by: luccayn.

Common Honorifics:
-san: A polite suffix, but not excessively formal.
-kun: A common suffix among friends and younger people.
-chan: A common suffix among people you're close with, mostly used for feminine nicknames and girls, since it's cutesy and childlike.
-senpai: A common suffix and noun used to address or refer to one's older or more senior colleagues in a school, workplace, dojo, or sports club.

Heya!

Life happened, as it always does. Won’t get into too much detail, but work and study take way too much time and energy from my day.

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Saori’s POV

The day he transferred, I couldn’t help but think “What a gloomy and scrawny boy.”

Clad in the school’s mandated blue jersey and sporting plain short hair, he was noticeably slender and small. He was probably even smaller than me back then. I could tell, even as a child, that he must have been really poor, unable to afford proper meals.

He would always be up on the hill in the natural park, reading books borrowed from the library until dusk. Using his backpack as a pillow, he seemed truly engrossed in his reading, never getting bored.

Sometimes when my friends and I went to play on the playground equipment, he would quietly sit on a bench away from everyone else, flipping through the pages of his book. I briefly thought about inviting him to play with us, but his mysterious aura seemed to keep us at bay.

He seemed so mature. Perhaps that’s why I assumed he wouldn’t want to engage in childish games.

“Shin-chan, what would you like to eat today?” I overheard him and his grandma at a market once.

“Hehe. I’ll eat anything you cook, granny!” he’d answered.

“I see. But you don’t have to hold back. I have a little money today, so feel free.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Granny will make anything you want, so go ahead and tell me.”

He looked genuinely happy that day, but I couldn’t recall ever hearing what he wanted to eat then. Still, since we lived closeby, I chanced upon the pair several times. Usually, he’d carry his grandma’s basket, almost too big for his small hands.

While other kids’ baskets were filled with meat and sweets, his contained only a few vegetables and fish. It made sense after we learned about nutrition in health class. Him being small made sense, given what he ate.

One day, though, I saw his grandmother crack at seeing the selflessly thin boy. With tears in her eyes, she asked him what he wanted. Pleaded. But he just answered, “I love everything you make, granny,” and strained to pick up the heavy bags in one hand, taking his elder’s in the other as they talked.

That was the moment I began to take an interest in him. Mind you, it wasn’t love by any means, just curiosity.

He was unlike any other boy I’d seen then. So frail, so ephemeral he could vanish at any moment. Often times I caught myself asking why his eyes were so downtrodden, why he seemed so lonely. It didn’t take me long to chase after the books he usually read, seeking to see the world through his eyes.

Eventually, weeks after I began expanding my horizons by drowning in his books, an incident occurred.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Shut up! This is our spot!”

As we were playing, older boys from another elementary school tried to monopolize the playground equipment. We argued that we should all play together, but it was futile in the face of violence.

One of my friends ended up getting punched.

It was no wonder we shook to our bones. Punching, beating, being punched. It’s a common sight in morning cartoons, sure, but seeing an actual person, a friend, fall down on the ground, crumpled and crying, made it all too real.

“Stop it. It’s pathetic.”

At that moment, he appeared before us. Facing five older boys, he stood there, as if shielding the crying girl and me.

On the bench lay his school bag and a paperback book. His back looked broader than usual when he turned around.

“What’s your problem, huh?!”

“I couldn’t care less about myself. But what about you? You’re the kid of the lady who works at the supermarket on Fifth Street, right?”

“W-What!? Why!?”

“I know you hurt this kid here. That lady seems like a nice person, doesn’t she? But does she knows her son is bullying younger kids? Will she be able to smile after knowing what her son’s doing? Will she be able to work?”

“Shut up… W-Why are you—!?”

Upon hearing this, the second boy who had spoken earlier turned pale and stepped back. Seeing his reaction, the others also restrained their bravado and tensed up.

Looking back now, I realize it was probably just a bluff, although I didn’t understand it at the time. After all, he never singled out any of the five boys by name. Even if there were hints in his lifestyle, there was no real proof.

In other words, it was just a lucky guess. If none of them had fit the description, I wonder what he would have done. He probably hadn’t thought about it at all, I think, vaguely remembering his knees trembling slightly.

“Y-You’re such a coward! This is supposed to be a fight!”

“It’s not a fight when there are three scared girls here. I hate guys who don’t play fair.”

“Damn it! Screw you! I’ll remember this!”

“I’ll remember your faces, idiots! If anything happens, I’ll definitely find you.”

With these parting words, they hurriedly got on their bikes and scattered like ants, fleeing the park. Not sparing another look to the riff-raff, he reached out his hand to help me and the fallen girl. Before we could process what happened, he spoke with the softest voice, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

We’d been avoiding him up until that point. He had always been alone. Even though he could have easily run away and claimed it had nothing to do with him…

That was the only way a kid as thin as he could save us. Even if it meant using a cowardly method, he still did what he could to protect us.

“Shinji… Takatsuki…” That night, I traced the name engraved on the library card with my index, murmuring his name as if casting a mantra. It had always been etched onto the logs of the books I’d borrowed, almost as if he’s been there, watching me, making sure I was okay.

“Shinji Takatsuki… Shinji Takatsuki, huh? Hehe, what a nice name.”

I liked the sound of it. And attaching my own name to his surname made me feel oddly happy. If someone called me Saori Takatsuki, I might’ve keeled over dead then and there. Death by happiness.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” was such a cheesy line. I knew that, but back when that incident happened, and in the days thereafter when I read the books he so loved, I felt like it’d been some charm, keeping me safe. I felt like I wasn’t alone.

So, I realized I’d fallen in love. At that moment, I truly felt I wanted to know him.

…The next day, there were three pairs of eyes watching him as he shut himself in a corner of the classroom reading, as always. Mine, and the two girls who had played with me yesterday. It was natural, but it seemed they had also become keenly interested in him, as I had.

Clad in the school’s mandated jersey, with his neatly cut short hair, thick books, and an intellectual yet youthful face, he was an unbalanced and meager prince. Yet, despite that, he was attracting attention. Perhaps there are more girls who fall in love with a boy’s inner self than one would think.

I thought I was the only one who would fall for him. Suddenly having two rivals was unsettling.

“Hey, Shinji.”

“Ah, good morning.”

“Thanks for yesterday, you really saved us.”

“Don’t worry about it. Glad I could help.”

And then, he started to fit in with the class. Two boys he had saved at another point seemed to become particularly close friends with him. And before we knew it, they were always playing together.

Soon, time passed. Three months, to be exact.

“Hey, Shinji. You’re getting looks from the girls, you know?”

“For real? Maybe I smell or something?”

Sniff sniff “Nah, it’s not that. You smell like regular soap, maybe a hint of incense.”

“I see. Then maybe it’s because I seem poor. They looking down on me or something?”

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s it.”

Actually, there were times when it was understandable that he didn’t notice the harem forming around him. He was quick to categorize himself. Too quick to see the conventionally unattractive parts in himself.

He believed that everything that made him different from others was a flaw.

Yet, every time he helped someone, he became someone’s prince. As if making up for what he felt he lacked. It was as if he was reminding himself that it was for his own sake.

Truly, we were in an irreparable situation.

Eventually, I started talking more so as not to fall behind my peers. The other girls who felt the same way began to gather around him too. There were even girls who started bringing him side dishes during lunch.

Every time he looked puzzled and said he was being blessed because he was hungry, and every time he gave them that bittersweet smile, the girls’ faces beamed, and I saw them flush with this fleeting emotion.

I believe even back then, young as we were, girls were capable of having a protective streak. The “I can fix him” or “I can save him” mentality was key in a lot of young girl’s love, and I got that back then.

Still, I wanted to be the only girl.

I desperately wanted to be alone with him. So, on a certain holiday, I headed to the library where he always went, and without any warning, I sat down next to him and asked, “Shinji-kun, why do you always read books?”

“Hmm…” He mulled that over for a moment. “Because there’s too much I don’t know,” he nodded.

“Even though you read so much, there are still things you don’t know?”

“Lots. In this library alone, at least, there are over ten thousand books I haven’t even seen. I believe each one has at least one thing I don’t know.”

I was speechless and could only bow my head. There was no one else like this boy. How many adults could say the same thing?

“It’s not like that. Shinji-kun, you know more than anyone.”

“You’re flattering me too much.”

“But why do you want to know so much? What do you want to do with that knowledge?”

“I wanna judge what’s right and what’s wrong by myself.”

Judging.

That was the first time I’d heard that word in my life. I didn’t understand its meaning then, but I understood it was the most important thing for him.

“And… What will you do with that knowledge?”

“I wanna save the good people from the wrong ones.”

“Like you did at the park the other day?”

“Yep.”

He answered without any hesitation. He admitted his own shortcomings and told me that he still wanted the power to judge.

“But, it hurts when you get hit, you know? Even if you read a lot of books, you’ll lose if you fight against strong people.”

“…It’s not like I’m afraid of being hit.”

For the first time that day, he looked into my eyes. It was still those fleeting and sad eyes, mature way beyond his years.

“Why?”

“I’m used to it already.”

…It was hard to breathe.

Because I saw, quietly flipping through the pages, deep old bruises and painful scars on his slender neck. Things I hadn’t noticed before.

“There are adults in this world who do things like this without hesitation. And no matter how much I cry, no help will come. Because weak people are afraid of being subjected to that violence, they pretend not to see it.”

“Yeah…”

“So I’ll never bend to injustice again. I want the confidence to believe that I won’t lose to violence, to have power other than violence to resist. I read books because I believe that knowledge is the only thing that can make me strong, when I have nothing else.”

…I cried then. Just thinking about his innermost feelings made me unbearably sad.

I still remember it, clear as day. Just thinking about what happened in his family, as I found out later, made my chest ache.

His father used to hit him senseless, and his mother never so much as looked his way. This little, thin boy had spent his life trapped in a hopeless, unsalvageable room, hoping, praying for a day when he didn’t feel what he felt. Just imagining what he must have thought in those moments made me feel like I was losing my mind.

The pain in my heart, unbearable, was still nothing in comparison. Of course he was more mature; of course he didn’t act like kids his age. It must’ve been a household where ordinary values didn’t apply.

And yet, despite his unfortunate circumstances, none of them his fault, he didn’t blame the world. He carried that pain alone, directing all at himself. He faced injustice with what energy he could muster, using his sad experiences as fuel.

Fragile and impoverished, he felt unable to sit still lest he thought it was all his fault. He tried even to protect his grandma from the truth. He was left alone, with no one to comfort him in his time of need.

So, in place of the strong him, I cried.

“I’m sorry, Saori-chan.”

At that moment, he gently stroked my head. With his delicate, bony hands, it felt like he was gently combing through my hair. It was so reassuring. So warm. Truly kind.

“…Why are you apologizing, Shinji-kun?”

“Because you look sad.”

I wanted to help him. I wanted to protect him, who seemed to have fallen under the curse of helping others, just for myself.

…The reason why I understand him. He might think it’s some occult method or something.

But that’s not it.

The reason why I understand him is because, unlike others who considered everyone else, I’ve always only looked at him. I’ve thought about him, researched his ways, listened to his words, all for him.

I don’t need to overturn evil as he wants. I don’t need the judgement to measure right and wrong. I just wanted to understand him. And so I did. I learned everything about that boy, plain and simple. No occult plans, just him.

All I had was the capability of seeing through him, and him alone.

“Heh, that’s kinda creepy,” I mused to myself once.

But I couldn’t stop anymore. Once I knew, once I understood, I couldn’t suppress this love. So, at least, I’ll be kind to him like his beloved grandmother. Even if I might not be able to embrace him, I’ll try to approach him in a way that comforts him, even just a little.

And then, as time passed…

“Oh, Shin-chan? You’re reading another difficult book today, huh? Good job!”

“Sh-Shin-chan? What’s with that tone? It’s creepy, you know.”

“Hehe. Well, I’ve already read that book, you see. Want me to explain it to you? Shin-chan.”

“Nah, I’m good. I want to figure it out myself.”

“I see. You’re not cute at all.”

At least, I wanted to stay ahead of him. I wanted to be able to keep up with him. I wanted to praise his actions gently and warmly.

…That’s what I thought I had promised myself deeply.

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