Chapter 9:
I wept until my tears were numb. I didn't feel like crying anymore; there was nothing to cry about.
Everything that had happened to me was my fault. Sakura's anger, losing my temper with my father, the fight with Kotomi . . . All of it could have been avoided if I'd just shut my mouth.
But I didn't. Instead, I'm comforted by the lavender sky and the ice cold air seeping through my skin.
Slowly, I lifted my face from the side of my arm. With no recognition of my pain, the downtown area bristled with activity; cars scooted over the bumpy road, consumers walked into grocery stores, and street lights glare discordantly. The town is prepped for the long night.
Stepping back, my eyes drifted to my legs. My knees and ankles are scraped up, scabs creeping over the cuts. My calf was stained with dirt. I glanced at my hands; similar injuries appeared.
I shrugged unfeelingly. Remembering my P.E coach's words, I broke into a series of jumping jacks. I knew from experience exercise made it easier to think.
After about twenty, I quit from exhaustion. Sweat poured down my cheeks, clearing any grime it encountered. I gaze around the city.
I wasn't accustomed to the location, but I'd been there before. As long as I paid attention to the street signs, I would've been able to make it back home.
"If I even want to go back . . ."
I scrunched my figure against the brick wall behind me. Wrapping my legs into the fetal position, I surveyed the businesses around me.
A lot of the signs advertised local chains; only a few had familiar trademarks. One of the private ownerships to the left caught my eye.
"'Furukawa Bakery . . . 'Wasn't I there the other day?"
A mental map popped in my mind, conveying the turns I'd have to take to reach home. I anaylzed the sign intently, fishing through my shorts' pockets for some change.
"'Not much. The rest probably slipped out when I fell on the ground. 'Still, I need somewhere quiet to think . . ."
Carefully, I propelled myself off the ground. I worried I might tear one of my scratches open if I wasn't careful. Seeing I had the right of way, I dashed across the cross-walk.
I navigated the sidewalk until I reached the place. The sign above shined its humble title with pride. I remember the donut the old man gave the other day.
"'Wonder if this place is popular . . ."
With confidence, I swung open the doors.
The bakery was about as quiet as the other day. Behind the counter, the father flung a baseball bat in wide arcs as he stared down an uneaten set of pastries.
"Sir?"
He stares my way. Sighing, he lets his baseball bat rest by his side. "What's up?"
"I figured this would be a quiet place to think; I've had a pretty bad day."
"Huh," He ushers me over to a seat near the window. "This seat's pretty quiet, 'far as I can tell."
He slides into the chair opposite me. He crosses his arms, attempting to understand my mood.
"You wanna talk?"
"I don't know," One of my eyes addresses him, the other glimpses the violet sky out the window. If I really bore my heart to him, I would have had to tell him about my father. Kotomi's the only one I'd ever talked to about my father. No way was I gonna talk about my dad to a stranger.
"Maybe I'm being a bit harsh . . . But this guy looks psychotic,"
He examined the dents in the base of his bat. Glancing once more at me, he twisted his body to address me full-front. "You sure you don't wanna talk about it? I've heard venting your feelings can be healthy,"
"Some of the stuff I know . . . I don't really wanna talk about. Sorry,"
"Hm," He bit down on his cigarette. "There's no problem; you don't have to talk to someone you barely know."
He shifted his head away from me. "Still, you kinda looked like you wanted to say something."
I buried my hands into my hair. "There's gotta be something to get him off this tangent," I searched around for a distraction.
A stack of leftover breads, only one even tasted, sat next to the others.
"That's right . . . He told me not to eat a stack like that. 'Wonder if it's any good . . ."
"Hey, can I have one of those?"
I pointed to the bread. He followed my eyes until—
"No way,"
He flies out of his seat, eyes flaring with fire.
"Those pastries will lead to the death of you; I tried one this morning, and they're nearly knocked out me unconcious,"
"They can't be that bad," I smirked. "They're free, right?"
"Well, yeah," He shrugged. "But I don't want you to suffer the side-effects,"
"I don't know why you're making this stuff up, but I wanna try the bread." I blinked innocently. "Give one to me,"
"'Look kid, if you were a high schooler, I'd force you to not only eat, but buy that bread; you're just a kid." He tapped me in the forehead. "You don't know how cruel of a world it is out there; Sanae's pastries are the most appalling in the universe!"
I couldn't recall who Sanae was; was she the guy's wife, or his daughter? Either way, the bread looked good, and I wasn't gonna the old man stop me from eating one.
"I don't care," I shook my head defiantly. "I'm hungry, and I don't have money to pay for anything else."
"But . . . I'll give you one of the other leftovers." He yelled. "Anything, but that!"
I ignored him completely. I took one of the samples; pretzel-like dough wrapped around what I thought was some type of Jell-lo . . . ?
"'First time for everything, I guess,"
The man watched in horror as I tasted it.
"Augh,"
My body flew into chaos. Blood streamed through my body as if it'd been struck by lightning. My cheeks swelled with disgust. Gasping for breath, I collapsed onto the bakery floor.
"Kid!" He cried out, kicking the chair aside so he could reach me faster. He clenched my limp figure helplessly.
"Kid, say something; kid!"
"Ugh . . . " I groaned at him. His eyes were distorted dots in my vision. "Is . . . Is that you, old man?"
"No . . . "He gently placed me on the ground. His feet brought him back to the front desk. With style and finesse, he proclaimed to the world;
"Sanae's 'Pretzello bread' claims another victim!"
Sobbing, he crumpled onto the counter. A rush of footsteps zoomed towards where I lay.
"Dear, what's wrong? What did "Pretzelo bread" do?!"
"Look at this kid," He led Sanae around the counter to my position. After giving her a moment to realize what had happened, he stuck out his index finger. "He's fallen to the ground, totally devoid of life and limb; all because he tasted one of your pastries!"
His eyes burst with sympathy for his wife. My time in the limelight done, I rested limply on the floor. "I think I'm gonna stay here for a while . . ."
"Oh no!" She knelt down. "A bug must have gotten into the bread or something,"
"No, Sanae, I think the problem's worse than that," he stared his wife straight in the eye. "Your bread is so bad; it could be sold as poison on the streets!"
Something changed inside Sanae Furukawa that day. Her eyes flared with emotion I had never seen before. Tears leaked out of the side of her eyes as she slipped out the door. Before out of earshot, she answered her husband's declaration with another.
"'Maybe I should just become a street thug, then!"
Her husband stood aghast for a moment. Suddenly, he stuffed several pastries into his mouth and sprinted out the door.
"But I love your bread . . . !"
The room was quiet again. I stared blankly at the ceiling, the only sound I heard being the hum of an air conditioner.
"'So much for peace and quiet . . ."
Footsteps distracted me. I hoisted my shoulders with my arms.
No one was there. The stairway leading to the front of the counter was empty, as was the rest of the house.
"I could have sworn someone was . . . "
A girl descended the small stair way, her eyes shut tight. She greeted me awkwardly, her bow too low to be considered formal. I sigh.
"How are you doing this morning, Okazaki?"
I blinked confused. "How in the world could a girl in this house be shy?"
Abruptly, she retreated past the stairway. Frantically, I stood up from my spot on the ground.
"'Don't go,"
I called out. "I'm not gonna hurt you or anything; I just came here because I thought it'd be nice."
Nothing appeared from besides the staircase. Then, a curious eye peeked from beside it.
"It's . . . okay." I leveled. "Come on; it feels so quiet in here when your mom and dad aren't around."
I honestly wasn't sure if I wanted to talk to her. Still, I felt bad that she was in the house alone. Her parents would probably return before long, but I knew how it felt to have no one around.
Confidnetly, she scooted to the front of the stairs, now in full view of my vision. She wore a long blue night gown, the ends of which dragged against the floor. Noticing her disadvantage, she walked down the stairs at a rate of one per second.
She approached me after nodding confidently to herself.
"Good evening, Okazaki-san," She lowered her head again.
"'Same here," I bowed. "You don't have to act so formal, though; I'm no older than you."
"Are you sure?" She inquired, blinking twice. "I'm only ten years old,"
"Nine," I relayed.
"Really?" She giggled softly. "You look a couple years older than me,"
"I've always been a little older looking than the norm," I smiled thoughtfully. "So, where do you go to school?"
"Sakura Elementary," She pronounced each syllable precisely. "What about you?"
"Genki no Kodomo Elementary," She laughed. "Yeah, I thought it was a dumb name, too."
"No, it's cute," She smiled. "It sounds like a nice place,"
"Well . . . " I reminiscence about Sakura. My mood soured instantly. "It's not that great,"
I made my way back to the seat set out for me and sat down. She glanced around awkwardly, trying to think of something to say. She noticed the piece of bread on the ground.
"You ate one of my mom's pastries, didn't you?"
I chuckled. "Yeah; I thought your dad was wrong about them, but they really are gross."
"Yeah, she can cook pretty much anything else," She tossed the bread in the trash can. "It's just something about baked goods she doesn't get . . ."
"'Funny for someone who works in a bakery," I counter callously. She seated herself in the chair next to me. "I'm forgetting your name, though . . . What was it again?"
"Nagisa; Nagisa Furukawa,"
"Tomoya Okazaki," I offered my hand. After a minute of hesitation, she shook my hand tenderly. "You already knew my name, didn't you?"
"That's no big deal," She says humbly. "I know the names of pretty much every customer who's been here; you get a pretty good memory of things when you live in a bakery."
"I'll take your word for it," I smirked, staring down at the table before me. Only a few moments passed, and Nagisa was already concerned.
"Is something wrong?"
"Nah, I'm alright," I fibbed, my gaze retreating again to the window. The air outside is much darker, the violet color now replaced by a dull darkness.
"Well . . . I can try to help; if you wanna talk about it, I mean."
I watch her for a moment. Her eyes were so honest, even thinking about turning her down felt mean.
"Maybe I can tell her a little about what happened with Kotomi . . . That might calm me down a little."
"Okay," I set my arms up on the table. She stared at me, ready to listen. "I had a fight with my best friend yesterday. I felt she was being stubborn and foolish, so I called her out on it. I accused her of acting unemotional and uncaring . . . Robotic, I guess you could say."
She nodded plainly.
"I felt like I was doing the right thing . . . I didn't want her to get hurt because she made some silly mistake. But . . . I was so mean to her. I got angry, and, didn't even say good-bye. I wonder if she's . . . decided I'm not worth it."
My hair drooped over my eyes. I lost sight of Nagisa as I did. Minutes passed as I looked at the ground below me.
Finally, she spoke.
"I think you're worrying too much,"
I stared up in shock. She gazed at me solemnly.
"You're best friends, right? If so, you'll be able to forgive each other. You'll say sorry to her, and she'll say sorry to you, and then you'll be friends again. Friends are able to work things out with each other because they care about what each other think."
She stared at her palms. "I've never had a lot of friends. I guess I'm just not a very sociable person. But, the one I have now is very kind to me. Even when I get all quiet, even when I lose my temper now and then, she's always forgiven me."
I followed her eyes. It was very hard to believe she didn't talk much. She was counseling me as if she'd lived as a kid several times before.
"Her name's Haruka Aizawa. She's a bit of a tomboy and likes to run around a lot, but she was very nice to me. When she saw me sitting alone on the playground, she started talking to me. She doesn't even care that I'm bad at P.E."
Her eyes flickered happily for a moment. Suddenly, she shifted back to me.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bore you with stuff about my life."
"No, its fine," I stood up. "Thanks for talking to me; it helped a lot."
"Really?" She spoke, her voice high-pitched from excitement.
"Yeah," I walked up to her. "Honestly, if you were more social, I think people would really like you; you're kind and pretty."
"Oh," She flushed. "Thank you, but, I'm kinda odd-looking."
"That's just crazy talk," I waved my hand dismissively. "You look nice; really."
"Well, I'm glad you think so," She smiled sweetly, taking step by step backwards. "Is there anything else?"
"Nah, that's all for now," I said, deliberate with my words. "Thanks for taking the time to talk to me,"
"It was fun; really." She bowed. "I hope to see you come by Furukawa Bakery again."
"I'm sure I will," I stepped back towards the doors in the same manner she did. "See you later,"
I disappeared into the abyss of night; a new moon was all that would guide me. The city lights still glowed, but I knew my thoughts would be my only companion.
I made my way dismally down the quiet roads.
"At least I know what I have to do."