Track 17. ourselves

April 2 — Day 5 of the Gincana

Another day of Gincana competition was beginning. But on this day, the competition would be silent.

One of the classrooms had been prepared to host the chess tournament. The desks had been stacked, and only what was necessary to allow up to three simultaneous matches had been arranged.

Miyu and Adonis were face to face, ready to begin their strategic and intellectual clash.

Professor Mira was in charge of the room and announced the rules:

“The rules are simple: you lose if your clock runs out, or you win if you checkmate your opponent. During all chess matches, silence must be maintained.”

As expected, the room remained quiet. All competitors played with focus. The match between Miyu and Adonis was evenly balanced.

“You play well,” Adonis said, breaking the silence.

“Hm!? Are you even taking this game seriously?”

“I am. But you look tense, don’t you? You’re even looking at me weird.”

“What are you talking about!? I’m normal.”

“And those rumors… you don’t seem that bothered by them. Are you enjoying it or what?”

“What? Of course not. But there’s no point giving them attention. Eventually it stops.”

Adonis went quiet. It was Miyu’s turn. She noticed the opening he had left and used her knight to capture his queen.

“WHAT!?? MY QUEEN! THAT DOESN’T COUNT!”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO GOT DISTRACTED!”

“Silence during the matches,” Professor Mira warned.

Annoyed, Adonis ground his teeth and stood up, bracing his hands on the table and pushing his chair back. Miyu flinched. She tensed at his reaction. She didn’t show much outwardly, but her heart started pounding.

“YOU THINK YOU’RE SO CLEVER, HUH!? GET READY — WE’RE GOING TO SETTLE THIS IN QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS.”

What a… child, Miyu thought.

School Courtyard

That same morning, the competitors in the arts category had finally finished painting the panels.

The Oceanics team had drawn an ocean and a sun. The Glaciers team had made frozen mountains. And Yukino, representing the Firefighters, had painted a firefighter with a hose putting out a blaze.

The difference in level between the works was obvious. Several students gathered to look, some standing nearby and commenting.

“Dude…”

“They finished the panels.”

“Dude… look at the First Year one.”

“Dude…”

“That’s not fair. They got someone who actually knows how to draw…”

“Let’s ask them to cancel this category.”

Every year it’s the same speech, Yukino thought, standing discreetly nearby, listening.

Seven Years Earlier

From an early age, Yukino developed a love for drawing. While most girls wanted to play with dolls, she preferred pencil and paper. She was seen as different, and it was hard for her classmates to understand her.

When she was seven, she took part in an exhibition featuring children’s drawings from several schools. Only the best had been selected — and hers was among them.

Many parents and curious onlookers examined the posters and commented. When they looked at Yukino’s drawing, most of them made the same remarks, which caught her attention, even though she was still a child.

“These parents have no shame. Making the exhibition drawings for their kids,” one man said.

“Then the kid grows up thinking everyone’s going to do things for her,” another added.

Huh? But that drawing… is mine, little Yukino thought.

“Mom, they think I didn’t draw my own picture. Can I go tell them I did?”

“It happens, sweetheart. What matters is that you know you did it.”

At eight years old, in second grade, another event marked her life.

During recess, after she had already left the classroom, a group of four girls began talking about Yukino.

“She’s weird, right?”

“She just sits there quiet. Must be one of those nerd girls.”

“She left — let’s go check her desk.”

They walked to Yukino’s desk and started touching the things she had left on top.

“She’s always drawing?”

“It’s kind of cute, but drawing is for little kids.”

“Aren’t we little kids?”

“You know what I mean. Like five-year-old stuff.”

“It’s like those cartoons on TV, right? My mom says they’re violent and from the devil.”

The last girl picked up the drawing to look at it.

“Let me see!”

“Hey — don’t pull!”

The two began tugging the sheet, one pulling one way, the other the opposite. A tear formed and split the drawing in half. They looked at each other, suddenly nervous.

“So… what do we do now?” the first asked.

“Just leave it. She’ll learn not to draw during class,” the fourth said.

The four left to have their snack as if nothing had happened. The bell rang and everyone returned to class.

When Yukino came back, she found her work torn in two. Her stare froze — stunned, disbelieving — as she looked at the two halves in her hands, unsure what to do.

From the back of the room, the fourth girl watched the scene and, with a mocking smile, approached her.

“Wow, Yukino… they tore your paper? But you know, it’s not good to do that stuff. No one’s going to be your friend.”

Even at that age, Yukino could recognize mockery in someone’s tone. She turned to the girl, angry.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

“You’re accusing me? I’m being your friend and warning you.”

The entire class, which had been indifferent until then, now paid attention. Many stayed silent. Others began commenting.

“The weirdo’s threatening her.”

“I knew she wasn’t so innocent.”

“They probably tore it because she did something to someone.”

“Wow, she’s so quiet. Didn’t expect that.”

The teacher arrived, silencing the classroom. But Yukino understood that from that day on, things would be different.

And they were.

Nothing that happened afterward made logical sense. People found any excuse to pick on her, and having tastes different from what was considered “normal” only fueled their criticism.

Some students began taking advantage of opportunities. When Yukino was distracted, they would pull her hair or hit her in ways she couldn’t even identify.

The art materials she brought started appearing broken. She had to begin carrying her pencil case with her at all times.

As if that weren’t enough, rumors about her began spreading through the school — absurd rumors, things she hated even remembering.

Talking to teachers didn’t help. They would say things like:

“It’s just a joke.”

“Just ignore it.”

“They’re kids. They don’t know what they’re doing.”

Yukino was a child too. And even so, she knew it was wrong. But because the teachers wouldn’t listen, she became afraid to tell her mother. Something inside her insisted she was the one at fault.

She cried — but not from sadness. Inside her, anger grew. Her blood boiled so intensely it spilled out as tears. The indignation of her own helplessness made her feel sick.

Little by little, the group of girls who had torn her drawing began spreading rumors. She never discovered exactly what they said. No one told her. People simply began drifting away.

She started to feel alone.

Until one day, thoughts of hurting herself crossed her mind. That was when she realized things had gone too far.

“Okay… now it’s too much. I’m really letting ridiculous situations control my life. If I did anything to myself, my family would suffer. And there’s no guarantee the people who hurt me would even realize it. Nobody’s going to live my life. Nobody’s going to make my drawings.”

Even at that young age, Yukino’s ability to reflect and connect ideas was highly developed. She could see situations from a broader perspective and understand the consequences of choices.

“That’s it. There’s no ‘just let it go.’ I’m going to fix this. Mom hates trouble, but… sorry.”

She was determined to find a way to deal with it. She didn’t yet know how, but she knew she had to take initiative.

“Damn… I just want to see them try something at school tomorrow.”

Despite all that courage, she was still a child testing new ways of living. If adults feel anxious about changing their behavior, a child would too.

The next afternoon began without anything unusual. Students lined up to enter the classroom, each group with its teacher. In the second-grade line, shouting broke out between two girls.

“TEACHER, YUKINO PULLED MY HAIR!” shouted a girl with her hair tied back.

“I DIDN’T! I DIDN’T EVEN GO NEAR YOU TODAY!”

“YES YOU DID!”

“I DIDN’T, I ALREADY SAID I DIDN’T!”

Seeing that it wouldn’t end on its own, the teacher intervened.

“But did you see her pulling your hair?”

“No, but people told me it was her, and I think it was.”

The teacher listened, gave a small laugh, and replied:

“Then pull her hair too.”

“What!?”

“Alright.”

“But—”

The girl stepped forward and yanked Yukino’s hair hard. Her neck bent with the force and she felt pain.

“Resolved? Let’s go to class. You have PE soon,” the teacher said.

Everyone lined up and entered the classroom.

It seemed like everything had been resolved.

But resolved what?

For Yukino, who was boiling with anger more than ever, nothing had been resolved. Watching the person who was supposed to protect her commit an injustice without even listening to her was the final straw.

What opportunity would appear for her to fix what had happened?

Soon it was time for PE. The girls trained separately from the boys and had the covered court that day.

And Yukino knew coincidences didn’t exist.

That day’s exercise was stealing the ball as training for handball. The pairs were chosen randomly — and she ended up paired with the same girl who had pulled her hair.

The exercise worked like this: the teacher stood between the two competitors holding the ball. When the whistle blew, he tossed it into the air. Whoever reached it first ran toward the goal, while the other chased to steal it and reverse the play.

But that day, Yukino made no effort to grab the ball. She let the other girl take the lead.