[Trigger Warning: Homophobic Language]

-Graduate-

When we touchdown in Osaka, I make my way off the plane and through immigrations and customs, trying my best not to cause an international incident.

Clearing customs, I step out onto the terminal.

Here I am, in a country where I don’t speak the language, with just a change of clothes in my bag and a little bit of money in my pocket.

Being the best in the world at something is a lonely feeling.

I take in my surroundings, flexing my right hand. I spread out my fingers, clench my fist, and repeat.

If I just close my eyes, the chaos of the terminal dissolves into white noise. I can take a few deep breaths and almost feel like I’m not teetering on the edge of something.

When I do open my eyes, however, the illusion is shattered.

A group of elementary schoolers recognizes me.

It’s a full-on assault, and I’m outnumbered nine-to-one. In their sailor-fuku uniforms, they crowd me. Their chaperone looks over, annoyed.

I decide to smile, to take selfies, to sign phone-cases, just so they would move on and make it to the JR Limited Express in time.

I can’t understand most of what they’re saying.

I’m so dumb; I should have realized by their age that they were HIS fans, not mine.

One of the kids hands off their phone to the chaperone and I notice the initials on the case:

KQ 

My heart sinks as they gather around me for a group shot, huddling in close and throwing up peace signs.

“Faggot!” All of them chorus before the flash goes off.