Chapter 8
Naoyuki walks into the house and hands his caretaker a sheet of folded-up paper. “What’s this?” Shizuyo asks. “Are you actually giving me a note? No charades this time?” Naoyuki frowns and flips his hands open, motioning a “Just-read-it” with an irritated grunt. “Oh, all right,” Shizuyo snaps. “So impatient!” She unfolds the note and reads it silently. “So your friends want you to go over and practice a play with them?” she asks when she is done. “That’s fine with me. How long will it be? Are you staying for dinner?”
Naoyuki grunts uneasily and pretends to hold a telephone to his ear, then points at her, then closes an imaginary book.
“‘I’ll call you’?” Shizuyo asks. “No, that’s rude to just call and leave unless there’s some kind of emergency,” she tells him. She heaves a sigh. “You don’t want to go, do you?” she asks. Naoyuki shakes his head. “But you have to because your classmates think you’re coming?” Naoyuki nods. Shizuyo thinks for a moment.
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A while later, at Haruko’s house, the phone rings; her mother picks it up. “Hello, you’ve reached the Miyai residence. Who is calling?”
Haruko rushes in to listen to her mother’s responses, hoping that it was one of her friends calling. “Ms. Shizuyo – ? Oh, you’re Naoyuki’s caretaker, yes. Yes. It’s somewhat of a custom here to treat our guests to a meal, so it would most likely be for dinner. Yes. Okay. Thank you. Goodbye.” Mrs. Miyai hangs up the phone. “That was your friend’s caretaker,” she tells Haruko.
“Is Naoyuki coming?” Haruko asks excitedly.
“Yes,” her mother replies.
“Yay!” Haruko cheers.
“Go tidy up your room, then, Haruko,” her mother calls after her as she races off.
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Shizuyo tries to pull Naoyuki’s jacket on as he ruffles his hair and stomps and whines. “No, we’re not doing this again, Naoyuki; you’ve already stood them up once – I let it slide that time – but twice, that’s just mean,” Shizuyo says. “Now stop that, you’re messing up your hair.”
She grabs Naoyuki’s arms and literally drags him (his feet scraping against the concrete as he frantically pulls away from her in protest) out to the car. “No funny business this time, Naoyuki,” Shizuyo says crossly as she fights with him to get him in the back seat of the car. “I don’t want you throwing any tantrums over there and getting yourself in trouble.”
Naoyuki wrestles to get out of her grip, trying to pull himself out of her arms and away from the car. He starts screaming and crying out, arms and legs flailing, as Shizuyo hauls him up and tries to get his feet into the car. “Stop that; you’ll only tire yourself out!” she cries. He still keeps fighting and wriggling to get free when a sharp pain in his side makes him flinch, and he freezes up to keep himself from grabbing at the ache. Shizuyo takes the temporary “cease-fire” as an opportunity to stuff him into the back seat. When Naoyuki realizes that he’s been imprisoned in the car, he screams, slapping Shizuyo’s hands as she tries to fasten his seatbelt. Pain sears through his side again as he tries to fight his way out of the car door. He finally gives in and sits still in the seat, panting, as Shizuyo clicks the seatbelt over him.
Shizuyo closes his door and walks over to her side of the car, then climbs into the driver’s seat. She glances back at Naoyuki before belting herself in and starting the car. Finally, she pulls off into the street.
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The doorbell rings. At Haruko’s excited yelling, Mrs. Miyai rushes to the front door and swings it open. “Hello,” she greets her daughter’s guests. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs...” She holds her hand out for a handshake.
“Matsuda,” Shizuyo replies, taking her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well, Mrs. Miyai.”
Haruko appears behind her mother. “Hi, Miss Shizuyo! Where’s Naoyuki?” she
inquires. Shizuyo nudges Naoyuki just enough to get him to peek out nervously from behind her.
“He’s a shy one for a boy his age,” Mrs. Miyai comments. She reaches out for a handshake, and he cries out, slapping at her hand before retreating behind his teacher.
“Naoyuki!” Shizuyo cries. She turns back to Mrs. Miyai. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes. “He’s...well... He’s easily startled, so you might want to be careful about touching him.”
“Oh,.. I’m sorry,” Mrs. Miyai apologizes.
As Mrs. Miyai and Shizuyo begin to talk, Haruko maneuvers around her mother and reaches out to Naoyuki. “Come on,” she beckons to him, “it’s okay. You don’t have to be nervous.” She takes a step closer and holds her hand out to him. “Come on.”
Naoyuki reluctantly takes a few steps forward, takes her hand, and follows her into the house as his teacher watches after them in surprise. He let her... He took her hand...!
Haruko leads Naoyuki to her room, where Kotaro is already waiting for them, his book open on the floor. “Hey,” he greets Naoyuki with a smile. “You actually came.” He spreads a few props across the floor as Haruko shuts the door and joins Kotaro and Naoyuki inside. “Ready to get started?” Kotaro asks.
Naoyuki nods as Haruko takes out her book and glances over the lines one last time. “I want to get this right,” she says, “so you’re not laughing at me when I say it wrong.” Kotaro chuckles, then Haruko closes the book and stands up to join the boys.
As soon as they are well into the play, the kids are all at ease, having fun as they act it out and stumble all over the room playfully. “Oh, no!” Kotaro cries. “It’s an earthquake!” He scrambles clumsily around the room as if the ground is shaking, then falls to the floor as Haruko and Naoyuki laugh at his bad acting. “Quit laughing!” Kotaro cries as he tries to suppress his own laughter. “We can’t laugh when we’re actually doing this!”
Haruko joins into the crazy act, stumbling across the floor before falling (gracefully) into a heap. Naoyuki chuckles a little bit before he, too, clambers across the floor, then falls into a heap. He suddenly clutches his side and lets out a slight yelp – his friends know that he isn’t acting. “Naoyuki, are you okay?” Kotaro asks, he and Haruko getting up off the floor. He nods and sits up, motioning for them to keep going.
“Are you sure?” Haruko asks. Naoyuki nods.
The kids go back to their play, getting up off the floor and approaching a cardboard box nearby. “We found it!” Kotaro announces. “The treasure!” They flip the top of the box open and split up the spoils: a few bouncy balls, a stick of gum, and a popper.
“Ta-da!” Haruko cries. “We finished!”
“Remember, we can’t laugh at the earthquake part,” Kotaro chuckles.
Haruko’s father pokes his head through the half-closed door. “Dinner time, you noisy actors,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Haruko races out of the room with Kotaro and Naoyuki trailing close behind. They follow her into the dining room, where a few spare chairs have been set around the table. Kotaro takes the spare seat next to Mrs. Miyai and Haruko takes the seat next to him. The only chair left is next to Mr. Miyai. Naoyuki glances nervously at Haruko. She gets out of her chair and switches his seat with hers. “Here,” she says, patting the chair next to Kotaro. Naoyuki reluctantly sits down at the table, then Haruko takes her seat next to her father.
Mrs. Miyai uncovers the dish in the center of the table. “Sukiyaki,” she says. “Dig in!”
Haruko’s parents take the first portions, then Haruko and Kotaro afterward. Naoyuki takes his helping right after them.
Smelling the aroma of the familiar dish, Naoyuki suddenly finds himself back at his parents’ house, sick in bed. His mother smiled at him, then handed him a plate of sukiyaki. “Here,” she said. “This will perk you right up. It’s my special recipe.” She smiled again as he tasted it and smiled back, then stroked his cheek. “That’s my boy,” she said.
“My mom makes the best sukiyaki, doesn’t she?” Haruko says happily. She notices the tears welling up in Naoyuki’s eyes. “What’s the matter?” she asks. “Was it something I said?”
Mr. And Mrs. Miyai glance toward the kids. “What’s wrong?” Mrs. Miyai asks.
Naoyuki suddenly slips out of his chair and races from the dining room. He slams into the front door and leans against it, hiding his face in his arms as he cries. Haruko follows quietly after him and sees him. She faintly hears him sob, “Mama...” Frowning worriedly, she approaches him and tries to pat him on the shoulder, but he pulls away and sinks to the floor. “Naoyuki...” Haruko murmurs. I wish there was something I could do, she thinks. She maneuvers around him so that she is facing him. This is all I can think of... Haruko kneels down and puts her arms around him in an embrace when Naoyuki suddenly cries out wildly, flailing and wrestling to get out of her arms. He hits her arms away and yanks her hair, and she screams, summoning her parents and Kotaro to the door.
“That’s quite enough! Calm down!” Mr. Miyai yells, grabbing Naoyuki’s arms. Naoyuki screams, stomping, trying to pull out of his grip. He drops to the floor and kicks frantically at Mr. Miyai’s legs until Mr. Miyai lets go; Naoyuki then bolts for the door.
“Please, stop; you’re only working him up more,” Mrs. Miyai pleads with her husband.
Naoyuki undoes the lock as Mr. Miyai tries to grab him again and rushes outside, slamming the door shut behind him. Naoyuki lets himself sink to the ground again, still sobbing. He hugs his legs closer for warmth as he rocks on the porch, trying to calm himself down. He looks out into the dark night at the unfamiliar streets, his breath turning to wisps of steam as he shivers. Shizuyo’s car, of course, was no longer there. I want to go home, he thinks longingly.
Inside, Mr. And Mrs. Miyai are still tending to their daughter. “Are you all right?” Mrs. Miyai asks. Haruko nods.
“I swear, that boy has the manners of a toddler! Hitting a girl and throwing a tantrum like that,” Mr. Miyai mutters.
“Please, Daddy,” Haruko begs, “it’s not his fault.”
“He’s never done this to you before, has he?” Mr. Miyai asks.
“No,” Haruko replies, “but, then, this is the first time I’ve ever tried to hug him, either.” Haruko’s parents and Kotaro shoot her a confused look. “He doesn’t like to be touched,” Haruko says. “Even Ms. Shizuyo said so.”
“Ms. Matsuda did say that,” Mrs. Miyai tells her husband. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.” She turns to her daughter. “Please bring him inside. That boy will catch something if he stays out there without a coat.”
Haruko nods as her mother gives her her own coat. Haruko puts it on and cautiously opens the door, then steps out onto the porch while her mother watches from inside. “Naoyuki?” she calls gently as she watches him rock, shimmering tears still streaming down his face. “Come on inside,” she says, holding her hand out to him. “You’ll catch a cold out here.”
Naoyuki looks up at her before hesitantly taking hold of her hand. Haruko helps him up, then he pulls away. He pretends to hold a phone up to his ear. “You want to call home?” Haruko asks. Naoyuki nods. “Can’t you stay for dinner?” Haruko asks. He repeats himself by signing that he wants to use the phone. Haruko sighs. “Okay,” she says, then leads him back inside. She shows Naoyuki to the phone and hands him the receiver. Naoyuki dials his number. The phone rings; A few seconds later, Shizuyo picks up.
“Hello?” Shizuyo asks. “Naoyuki, is that you?”
Naoyuki grunts a little bit to let her know that it’s him.
“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re already ready to come home?”
Naoyuki replies with a little “uh-huh.”
Silence at the other end. Then Shizuyo asks, “Is something wrong? Your voice doesn’t sound right.”
Naoyuki grunts a little bit in reply.
“All right, I’m on my way,” Shizuyo says.
Naoyuki hangs up the phone.
Haruko starts back toward the dining room, where everyone else had returned to eating. But Naoyuki doesn’t follow. He plops down in front of the door, instead, waiting. “Aren’t you going to eat while you wait?” Haruko asks. Naoyuki shakes his head; it didn’t feel right to take his meal and eat alone. “You’re not hungry?” Haruko asks. Naoyuki shakes his head again.
Haruko reluctantly leaves him at the door and returns to the dining room. She takes her seat and picks up her chopsticks. “Is his caretaker coming to pick him up?” Mrs. Miyai inquires.
“Yes,” Haruko replies, “I think so.”
“He isn’t going to come in here and finish his meal?” Mr. Miyai asks, anger in his voice.
“He said he wasn’t hungry,” Haruko tells her parents. But still... She glances toward the door; a wall blocks her vision and she can’t see Naoyuki. Frowning, she picks up Naoyuki’s plate and takes it to him at the door. “Naoyuki?” He looks up at her as she hands him the plate and a pair of chopsticks. “Here. Just eat. Please.”
Naoyuki gives her a questioning look as if to ask, “Are you sure?” She coaxes him to take it once more; finally, he starts to eat. Relieved, Haruko returns to the dining room.
“Did he take it?” Kotaro asks.
Haruko nods, then digs into her own meal.
Not long after, the doorbell rings. “That’s probably Ms. Matsuda,” Mrs. Miyai says. She and her family, along with Kotaro, get up from the table and go to the door, where Naoyuki is already waiting with his empty plate. He takes it to Mr. Miyai and bows slightly to thank him for the food, but at his angry stare, he shrinks back and hands it to Haruko instead, his eyes beginning to water all over again. The second he hears the door fly open, he races past Shizuyo out to the car – forgetting his coat in his hurry to escape – and, shivering cold, fiddles with the door handle.
“It’s open, but – !” Before Shizuyo can finish her sentence, Naoyuki has already climbed inside the car and locked himself in.
“I am very disappointed with that boy’s behavior,” Mr. Miyai says crossly. “If this is the way he acts, I certainly will not allow him back in my home, Ms. Matsuda.”
“What has he done?” Shizuyo asks, surprised.
“He hit my daughter and threw a tantrum when I intervened,” Mr. Miyai replies frankly.
“He hit Haruko?” Shizuyo cries. She glances back toward the car, shooting Naoyuki a disapproving glare, then faces Mr. Miyai and bows. “I’m very sorry,” she apologizes. “I assure you, I will make sure – ”
“It wasn’t Naoyuki’s fault,” Haruko pipes up. “I – He was upset, and I tried to hug him to make him feel better, but I startled him.”
“Stop making excuses; he hit you,” her father says.
“I swear, Daddy, he never acts like this,” Haruko says pleadingly. “Give him a chance.”
“Very well,” Mr. Miyai acquiesces. “But next time, I won’t be so forgiving.”
“Yes, sir,” Shizuyo says with a bow. “This won’t happen again. I’m sorry for the trouble. Please, have a good night.” Mr. and Mrs. Miyai bow back and close the door.
Shizuyo strides to her side of the car and climbs into the driver’s seat. She turns to face Naoyuki and says, “I thought I told you no funny business, Naoyuki. You threw a tantrum over there?” Naoyuki doesn’t make a sound; he just sits in the back seat with his knees up and his face buried in his arms. “What’s gotten into you?” Shizuyo asks. “Hm?” She waits for some sort of response, though she doesn’t expect him to speak; so when she hears an actual word come out of his mouth, she whirls around in her seat and cries, “What did you say?”
Though his sleeves over his face muffle his voice, Shizuyo can still hear his pitiful murmur. “Mama...” Her shocked expression softens and melts slowly into a frown. She turns forward in her seat and buckles herself in. Silently, she starts the car.
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Shizuyo sits on the couch with the photo album lying open in her lap. He said, “Mama,” she thinks. The first word I hear out of his mouth in three years...and he said it like that – so sadly. She brushes her hand over her friend’s wedding picture. “Aya,...look how much pain you’ve caused.” Shizuyo sighs sorrowfully; she closes up the book and stuffs it back under the couch, then stands up.
I should check up on Naoyuki, she thinks as she begins climbing the stairs to his room. She walks a little ways down the hall. His door is open, and light floods from the room. “Naoyuki?” she calls quietly as she turns the corner and crosses the threshold. She sees him sprawled out on the bed with his legs dangling off the edge. Panicking, she rushes toward the bed. “Naoyuki!” she cries. Upon getting closer, she hears his soft, steady breathing and realizes that he is only asleep; she heaves a sigh of relief. Sometimes I wish he snored... she thinks, chuckling to herself as she goes to turn off the light. She picks Naoyuki up and pulls down his covers with the hand under his back. She lays him back down and tucks him in. When he sniffles a bit, she realizes that his face is soaked in tears, some still coming. Shizuyo wipes the tears from his eyes and strokes his cheek. She takes his hands and tucks his arms, which are now dangling over the edge of the bed instead of his legs, under his chin. When she tries to get up, Naoyuki won’t let go of her hand. “Don’t leave me again...” he murmurs in his sleep. Shizuyo frowns. She gently rubs Naoyuki’s back as she rocks back and forth on the bed, humming the song that her own mother had used as her lullaby. Finally, Naoyuki loosens his grip on her hand, and she knows that he has calmed down. After all these years, I can only touch him in his sleep, Shizuyo thinks. She carefully gets up from the bed and crosses to the door, taking one look back at Naoyuki before leaving the room.
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As the crowds flow into the school, Haruko and Kotaro stand just inside the gate, waiting on Naoyuki. Haruko shifts from one foot to the other, both sore. “I swear, last night when he was crying, I heard him say, “Mama,” she tells Kotaro.
“But he never talks,” Kotaro argues.
“I know that’s what I heard!” Haruko insists.
Kotaro heaves an irritated sigh. “All right, fine. But even if that’s what he said, what are we supposed to do about it?”
Haruko frowns and looks down at her aching feet. “I don’t know,” she replies. “But...I wonder what happened to Naoyuki’s mom. Did his parents get divorced like yours, or is his mom...dead? Either way, I feel bad for him; it must hurt.”
“Do you think Naoyuki’s coming?” Kotaro asks. “Maybe we oughtta get to class.”
“He’s run later than this before,” Haruko says. “I’m gonna wait.”
A sudden scream down the sidewalk sends the hair on the back of Haruko’s neck standing on end. She knew exactly who it was. “Naoyuki!” she cries as she takes off down the sidewalk with Kotaro behind her.
Sure enough, one of the five sixth-graders had Naoyuki pinned to the ground, a second pinching one arm, a third pinching the other, another pulling his hair, and the ringleader kicking his side. “Talk!” orders the ringleader. “Come on, retard! Talk! Say “stop”!” He kicks Naoyuki again as the other bullies hold him down. “I said, talk!” He lands a third kick, and Naoyuki cries out. “Or are you deaf, too?” he yells.
Just as he is about to kick Naoyuki again, Haruko runs in front of the ringleader and screams, “STOP IT!!!” She eyes him angrily. “Leave Naoyuki alone!!!” she yells.
One of the other bullies releases one of Naoyuki’s arms and grabs Haruko instead. “Maybe you’ll talk for your buddy, here!” he sneers. “C’mon, retard! Talk!”
As Naoyuki wriggles to try and get free, Kotaro races off past the gawking bystanders to find an adult. Kei and Tohru watch on in horror with the rest of the crowd while their friend fights to get out of the bully’s grip.
The ringleader kicks Naoyuki again. “TALK!” he yells, landing another kick, and another. The one who has Naoyuki’s hair pulls harder, snapping his head back. “TALK!” The ringleader kicks him hard; Naoyuki cries out in pain. “C’mon and END IT!” Another hard kick. His cohort pulls Haruko’s hair, and she shrieks. The ringleader’s foot slams into Naoyuki’s side, and he lets out another chilling scream.
Naoyuki felt as if he’d been stabbed; his side throbbed. It was more than he could take. And if he didn’t do something soon, the bullies would torment Haruko, too. Just as the ringleader is about to kick him again, Naoyuki rasps, “Stop it..!”
“What was that?” The boy holding his hair yanks harder.
“STOP IT!” Naoyuki cries.
Suddenly, the bullies all release him and step away. His hands free, Naoyuki tries to move, but a sharp pain makes him recoil and clutch his side. His jacket was wet. He hears heavy footsteps approaching, a teacher – probably – yelling at the bullies.
Kotaro runs down the sidewalk to where the teacher was already dealing with the sixth-graders; Haruko kneels next to Naoyuki, worriedly crying, “Are you all right?” When Naoyuki suddenly screams, Kotaro skids to a stop in front of him. “Naoyuki!” Haruko cries.
The teacher steps up next to Naoyuki; kneeling down, he coaxes him, “Move your hand, son,” as he reaches out to grab his hand. Naoyuki tries to fight with him, but just moving around hurts so much it takes his breath away. The teacher moves his hand aside and pulls up his jacket and shirt to reveal an ugly gash on his side. Haruko gasps, her eyes watering over. The teacher pulls out a walkie-talkie and radios for the nurse. “Call a hospital right away,” he says urgently. “And we need first-aid out here.”
The bell rings. Haruko and Kotaro don’t move from their places. They watch, horrified, as the nurse races to tend to Naoyuki, who has passed out. Soon, they hear the wailing sirens echoing off in the distance. They stand, frozen, as the ambulance pulls up next to the sidewalk. The paramedics step out and take Naoyuki away.
