When I was in junior high, I had no friends at all. I never talked to anyone other than those who worked at the syndicate. There weren't alot of things that were physically unpleasant about me, and the women at the brothel often complimented me on my nice looks. Women have always told me that, ever since I can remember. I've always believed them. Being around women made me feel safe and protected, and I hoped they felt the same way about me.
My name is Tanaka Hiro. I was 16 years old and in my third year of junior high school. This was the last year I went to school. There was a girl in my class. Her name was
Yamaguchi Mai. She was a quiet girl, but not unpopular. Not like I was. People
interacted with her, but they avoided me at all costs, even though apparently,
I was voted the best-looking guy in my grade. Regardless, I never thought about
it. It was after summer vacation. It was almost fall, and I was the last to
leave the classroom.
Mai stood at the door just as I was ready to leave. Her bangs partially obscured her face, giving her a melancholy appearance. She simply stood there, carrying her book bag in both hands. She gripped the straps. I strolled straight by her, paying no attention, just as I typically do to everyone else in my grade or school.
It happened so quickly, but I felt her grip my left arm. I didn't like people
touching me. I really disliked being touched. My reflexes almost made me strike
her. She requested in a soft voice, and I recalled her words well.
“Can you walk me home?”
That is all she requested. She didn't even give me a glance. She gazed at her shoes with her head down. The thing is, because of my father, I developed a knack for reading people's true emotions from their nonverbal cues. She shook as if she were afraid. She held onto her bag strap so tightly that even I was taken aback. I didn't question her.
“Okay.”
I ended our conversation there, and we both left the school. It was late—at least 8:00 p.m. Except for me, no one else normally leaves school so late. I'd have work to do at the syndicate that night, between 9:00 p.m. and 12:00 a.m., so it never made sense for me to return home when school ended, so I just stayed back. That is why I kept a pair of clothes in my locker at the syndicate headquarters, so I was safe. As we were walking, it was silent. It seemed that she lived a little farther away from school, so we would have to use the train. I did not mind. We said nothing to each other. I smoked a cigarette like I always do in the morning, at lunch, and after school as I strolled behind her.
She walked slowly and kept her head forward. She did not turn around once. I remained behind her the whole way. I never questioned women's motives when they approached me with their difficulties. I always thought they might really need help. I assumed the same about her. We eventually arrived at the station, and I followed her to her platform. We were going in a separate direction, but I had some time to spare, so I did as she asked. We didn't say anything to each other the whole time we were there, yet we remained close. If you didn't know us, you'd assume we were a high school couple, lovers, or something. I attracted a lot of attention. Not because of my irezumi. My uniform covered most of it. However, it was due to my height, particularly given my age. I also seemed more mature than boys my age. So, it was difficult for me not to stand out from the crowd. Which was not an issue for me. I was accustomed to the glances at this stage.
People were muttering behind us, largely criticizing her for being with me. Being out so late with some boy. I may not have caused trouble, but I certainly gave off the impression of a troublemaker. I looked like a typical delinquent. It was evident that I was a gang member. My sleeves were pulled up, exposing parts of my arm tattoos. People used to dread the Yakuza a lot. They were passing harsh judgment on her since it was a different time.
I stood there with her, waiting for the train to come. She stood near me. She didn't mind the murmurs or looks from the people immediately on the platform before us, the rusted train tracks separating us, or the others queued up on our own platform; none of it bothered her. It didn't disturb me. I was so used to it that I barely noticed them. Everyone maintained their distance. Nobody stood on either side of us, and just two individuals stood far behind us. Cautiously.
The train eventually came, and we boarded. There were no open seats, so we had
to stand. The train was full. It was in the thick of Tokyo's rush hour, which
was usually a nightmare. We were the only students in the train car. That did
not seem to upset her either. The expression on her face was alarming. There
was nothing there. She merely stared blankly.
Her eyes were blank, with no thoughts or emotions. She seemed to already be dead inside. I glanced away. Her eyes resembled mine. Aside from my mother, I've never seen a girl with eyes like mine. That's when I realized she was exactly like me.
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