If I did sum up
My life I would say that I
Exist as shadow
"His Shadow", haiku by Iwaizumi Satoshi, Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High School, Class 1-2, 26/12/12
December 4th, 2012
They said he was too young to understand what was going on. Too young to even comprehend the severity of his brother's actions. But he wasn't. He wasn't too young, he wasn't too naive—Hajime didn't do it. Panting, Satoshi ran up the hill to the local police station, where he knew Hajime was being held. His parents had sent him to school to avoid the ugliness, but as soon as they had driven off, Satoshi had turned heel and ran after them.
"Hajime!" Satoshi shouted as a crowd of people came into view. "Hajime! Hajime!"
He found his parents in the midst of the crowd. Neighbors and friends—former friends—had come to watch, noses turned upward in disgust.
"Satoshi!" Futaba gasped as Satoshi ran into her arms, breathing heavily. "Satoshi, what are you doing here?! You should be at—"
"I can't go to school!" Satoshi begged her. "I want to see Hajime! Why are they taking him away?! He didn't do it!"
Futaba burst into tears, and Satoshi backed away into his father's torso. Yoichi placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing.
A string of juvenile prisoners—chained up—were led out, Hajime among them.
The people began to whisper—cruel and poisonous.
"There he is..."
"The Iwaizumi boy."
"I can't believe it. A murderer has been living here with us for the past thirteen years..."
"Can you believe he killed poor Oikawa-san's son? She couldn't even show up here today."
"Yes, but they could."
A chill went down Satoshi's spine as the piercing gazes of people he had once said hello to in the neighborhood turned vindictively to where he was huddling with his father and mother. Don't look at us like that, he thought wildly. Hajime didn't do it! My brother is not a murderer! Their eyes snapped something in him, and Satoshi yanked away from Yoichi, running closer to where the prisoners were being led into the transportation van. His father called after him, but Satoshi ignored him, all but slamming into the police barricade.
"Stop!" Satoshi screamed. "You're making a mistake! My brother's innocent! He didn't do it! He didn't kill Tooru-san!"
A few women gave him pitiful looks. Satoshi decided then that he hated all of them. Hated their faces, which could go from sneering to simpering with the flick of a switch.
Turn around! Satoshi pleaded, staring straight at Hajime's back. Turn around and look them all in the eye and tell them you didn't do it! But Hajime didn't. Couldn't have. The ropes and chains made it impossible. "No!" Satoshi was growing hoarse, but he kept shouting, kept fighting even as tears welled up in his eyes. "Hajime! Hajimeeeee!" He blubbered, fat drops of wetness rolling down his cheeks and pooling at his chin.
His brother was stepping into the van, about to disappear forever.
One last time, Satoshi bellowed with all his might, reaching over the barrier.
"HAJIMEEEEEE!"
December 11th, 2012
Yoichi allowed him to stay at home for a week before sending him back to school. His father's hands were tied—Satoshi knew, logically, that he couldn't stop going to school forever, especially when his grades were average at best. And his mother...
She was destitute.
Satoshi despised seeing her like this. Sometimes, she would be doing something mundane, like chopping up vegetables for dinner, and she would cry—softly, tears that were barely there. Tears that Satoshi would have missed if he blinked. He didn't like it when his mom cried, a deep sadness curling around like mist. It made him want to cry, too.
It'd snowed last night.
Yoichi drove him to school, car tyres rolling across dirty snow.
"You gonna be okay, kiddo?" Yoichi asked him on the way there, concerned.
"I'll be fine," Satoshi ground out. There were dark rings under his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept well.
Yoichi sighed. "You... need to stop playing so many video games before you sleep, okay?"
"It's not just the video games this time."
His father gazed straight ahead. "I'm sorry, Satoshi."
Please don't apologize, dad. It just makes everything worse. We shouldn't have anything to be sorry for. Satoshi didn't say anything, and they finished the car ride in hanging silence.
"We're here," Yoichi announced as he pulled up in front of the school gates, car stopping behind another parent's. He peered around the head rest, smiling tiredly. "Have a good day, okay, sport?"
Satoshi grunted, hauling his backpack over one shoulder and getting out from the backseat. He was met with a wintry chill that had him shuddering in his winter jacket. Not looking back, he trudged down the pathway to the building. At least winter vacation is coming up soon...
His gut clenched. Winter vacation. He always spent those with Hajime, snowball fighting in the backyard and sledding at the park. Now, Satoshi would have to spend the next one by himself. And the next, and the next...
Something hit him in the back of the head. A snowball. Satoshi cried out, stumbling forward. "What the—?!" He whipped around, glaring. "Who...?"
"Sorry," a boy laughed nearby, malice glinting in his eyes as he exchanged glances with his two friends. "Didn't see you there. Right, guys?"
More laughter.
Did they do that on purpose? Unease filling him, Satoshi brushed the snow off the back of his red beanie and hurried inside. Why would they do that to me? He recognized those boys. They were in the same grade as him but they had never talked before. Guess I was just an opportunity, then... Why else would they do that? But it had seemed so planned, so methodical. Like it had been meant for him.
Satoshi stopped by the bathroom first, some of the snow having fallen down the back of his shirt. Cursing a storm under his breath, he took off his jacket and shook it out. As he did, he caught sight of himself in the mirror, blinking at how awful he looked. He'd always had dark circles around his eyes from his video gaming hobby, but his face had never seemed so... gaunt before.
He was like a smaller, weaker version of Hajime. Whereas Hajime's coarse hair was spiked up like hedgehog quills, Satoshi's black hair flopped a little over his eyes, softer and stringier. Hajime was tall, muscular and bulky and Satoshi was lean and little. Huffing, Satoshi jammed his beanie on his head, shrugged his jacket on, and went to class.
Nobody greeted him when he stepped inside, which was not unusual. It was embarrassing to admit, but Satoshi didn't really have friends at school. He had plenty of online ones, but in real life only a group of boys that occasionally let him hang out with them. One of the boys—Hideki—waved weakly at him, a gesture which Satoshi returned as he made a beeline for his desk.
The bell rang, and class proceeded as per usual.
At lunchtime, Satoshi got up from his seat to sit with his group of quasi-friends. The other boys had all bunched their tables together so they would be closer.
"Hey, Satoshi." Hideki was the only one who bothered to greet him.
Satoshi summoned a smile which he hoped was friendly. "Hey."
The boys—Kinji, Naruki, Tomonaga, and Hideki—made conversation as they ate. Sometimes, Satoshi would chime in, but it wasn't often. There was something of a barrier between them—they were friends, Satoshi supposed, but not the kind that would hang out after school together. Hideki was the nicest. He was the only one who bothered including Satoshi whenever the latter was out of the loop.
Satoshi chewed his sandwich—he'd made it himself; his mother hadn't been in any condition to make him lunch—slowly. Ugh. I hate being the third wheel.
Then the conversation took an unexpected turn. Or maybe Satoshi should have expected it sooner or later, he wasn't sure.
"Did you hear?" Naruki said, eyes wide. "The guy who killed Oikawa Tooru got a guilty verdict. They sent him to prison."
"Everyone's heard of that by now," Kinji snorted, rolling his eyes. "Keep up with the times, Naru."
"It just shows you can't trust anyone," Tomonaga added, adding a spooky tone to his voice. "Even your friends. They might be waiting to just pounce on ya!"
The cheap takeaway chopsticks bent slightly under Satoshi's tightening grip. "Hey, guys?"
They turned to him, paling, as if they'd forgotten he'd been sitting with them.
"Oh, uh," Hideki said first, "I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it... Sorry, Satoshi."
Didn't mean anything by it? That's my brother you're talking about, you assholes! Satoshi glowered. "No, no. Don't stop on account of me. Keep going. I want to hear it all."
"God, will you lay off?" growled Kinji. "We were just kidding around. Don't be so sensitive. It's not our fault that your brother's a murderer."
Murderer.
Murderer.
"Your brother's a murderer."
Satoshi slammed his hands on the table, chopsticks breaking. The other boys flinched. "He's not a murderer!" he yelled. "Hajime's innocent! He would never hurt anyone!"
Either foolhardy or courageous, Kinji was the first to recover. "Hey, hey! Why are you getting so pissed for? Just because you tell us he's not a murderer doesn't make it true."
"And it makes it true when other people say he is?!"
"He went to court and was found guilty, it's pretty fucking obvious, Satoshi!" Kinji sneered. "Face it—your brother's a murderer."
And Satoshi pulled his arm back and punched him in the face.
What happened after he threw the first punch was a bit of a blur, but now he, Kinji, and their mothers were sitting in the faculty room. Kinji was holding an ice pack over one eye, sniffling. Satoshi hadn't been wounded, somehow. Or maybe he had been, and the adrenaline still pumping in his veins was preventing him from feeling any of the damage.
Their homeroom teacher had torn them apart from each other, both of them kicking and howling.
Satoshi's only regret over his actions was that it had led to his mother dragging herself painfully out of the house and driving through the dreary winter. His father must have been out, seeing as she had received the phone call.
And Kinji's mother...
"I want him expelled!" Yuzuki Sara screeched.
She's so loud. Satoshi wanted to cover his ears.
"Now, now," said their homeroom teacher, Urano. "Please calm down, Yuzuki-san."
"I'm very sorry for his actions," Futaba added, wearily glancing between Urano and Yuzuki. "It won't happen again."
"That's all very well and good," Urano said, "But I must get to the bottom of this incident. What exactly led to these boys fighting."
"He just punched me!" wailed Kinji, playing the victim card with such skill and speed that Satoshi was almost impressed. "Me and my friends were just talking and he punched me!"
"He's a psycho!" Yuzuki yelped, palming her cheeks in horror. "Just like his brother!"
Beside him, Satoshi could feel his mother tense up, and maybe he should have thought twice before exploding. "My brother is not a psycho!"
"Everyone, please!" Urano's voice carried above theirs. "Let's all discuss this civilly. No accusations or any of the like, shall we?"
Yuzuki harrumphed, folding her arm over her great breasts. "I just want justice to be served for my poor Kinji-kun."
"Then let us hear both sides of the story. Satoshi-kun, why don't you explain what happened?"
Satoshi took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "We were having lunch. Then Kinji and the others started talking about... They started talking about my brother." On his lap, his hands clenched into fists. "And Kinji," he grit his teeth, "Kinji called him a murderer."
"And then you hit him?" Urano ventured.
Defiantly, Satoshi lifted his head and drew himself to his full height in his chair. "Yes. I did."
"He admitted it!" Yuzuki pointed at him, practically frothing at the mouth for her justice. "He hit my son! I thought Kitagawa Daiichi was supposed to have a zero tolerance policy on school violence!" She pointed again, this time at Urano. "If he is not suitably punished, then this school will no longer be receiving a cent from me!"
"Yuzuki-san," Urano entwined his fingers on his desk, "I assure you that Satoshi-kun will be suitably punished. If you would like, we can take this the principal. If not, I will now speak to Iwaizumi-san and her son to decide punishment."
"I suppose," Yuzuki relented, standing. "Come, Kinji! I'm taking you to the doctor's."
The faculty room went eerily quiet once Yuzuki and Kinji were gone. Satoshi fiddled with fingernails, picking at them. Will I be expelled? Whatever. Gives me more time to play video games...
"Satoshi-kun will be suspended for two weeks," Urano decided, breaking the silence. "It is utterly unacceptable to attack a fellow student, and I hope you will discipline him at home, Iwaizumi-san."
Futaba bowed her head to him. "Of course. I am very sorry for his behavior. He will be punished at home—I won't allow him to treat his suspension like a vacation."
"Good. That brings me to another issue..." Urano sighed deeply, massaging one temple. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day—would it be okay if I spoke a little less formally?"
"Of course, Urano-sensei."
"Thank you, Iwaizumi-san. I apologize for my bluntness. Satoshi-kun—the next time they try to get a rise out of you, ignore it."
Satoshi did a double-take as if he had been slapped. "What?" How am I supposed to ignore it?! I...! I don't understand... "Sensei, what are you...?"
Futaba grabbed his hand, resolute. "Listen to your teacher."
"Yes. I mean it, Satoshi-kun. The best course to take in such a situation is to ignore it. They'll soon get bored." Urano took off his glasses, sighing again. "Whether or not your brother is innocent... Is irrelevant. The more you insist on his innocence, the more ammunition they will have. I will tell them to leave you alone. This is a delicate situation, so just leave this to the adults, okay? Don't do anything on your own."
Leave this... to the adults? Satoshi stared at him, blank. You mean... the same adults that are telling me to be quiet? That threw my brother in prison? The adults don't care about us. If they did, Hajime wouldn't be...!
"Please, Satoshi," Futaba whispered. "Listen to the adults."
Is that what being an adult means? Sweeping everything under the rug and calling it a day? Satoshi continued to stare, overwhelmed by disbelief. He wanted to laugh. But then they'd think he was insane—"He's a psycho! Just like his brother!"—and he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop himself from breaking down after that. "Okay," he said, empty lies pouring from his mouth. "But I don't get it."
Urano raised a brow. "What don't you get?"
Satoshi's frame trembled, righteous anger surging through him. "I don't get it!"
"Satoshi—"
"No, mom! Why do I have to just let them treat me like... like shit?! Why doesn't anyone believe me? Hajime didn't—!" Satoshi choked on his next words, something hot and heady building up behind his eyes. Shit... Shit, don't cry! I can't cry now! "Why aren't I allowed to say anything about it? Why are you telling me to roll over and die?"
Another sigh from Urano. "I'm sorry, Satoshi-kun, but this what's best for you."
"What's best for the school!" blurted Satoshi, leaning forward. "Kinji's mother is a huge benefactor, and you're just covering your own asses!"
"Satoshi, that's enough!" cried Futaba, standing and pulling her son away from Urano. Frantically, she bowed to Urano. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I'll talk to his father."
Urano put his glasses back on. "Please do, Iwaizumi-san. I'll see you next time."
December 15th, 2012
The vandalism started a few days after Satoshi's suspension. Satoshi was playing a video game in his room when he heard a loud crash outside. Alerted, he paused it and padded out to the front yard. "Mom?"
Futaba didn't seem to hear him. There was a gooey mess at her feet from where she had dropped her bag of groceries—the bottle of oyster sauce had shattered in the bag, mixing with egg yolk and milk.
"Mom?" Satoshi stepped around the mess, feet cold against the concrete. "What are you looking at...?" He gaped at the graffiti that had appeared on the side of their house in the hour that Futaba had been gone.
FUCKING MURDERERS
DIE
HOW DARE YOU SHOW YOUR FACES IN PUBLIC
PSYCHOPATHIC PIGS
"A-ah..." Futaba began to cry, shock etched on her gentle features. "Oh my god, oh my god..."
And Satoshi—
He was furious.
"How dare they!" he hissed. "How could they do this...!" The more he looked at it, the more his fury ebbed away, replaced—slowly—by fear. These people, whoever they were, knew where they lived. Who was to say that they wouldn't go any further than this? Yoichi was at work most of the day. Futaba couldn't throw a punch to save her life, and Satoshi... I'm weak. Gnawing on his bottom lip, Satoshi hugged himself and shivered, telling himself that it was from the December cold. "Mom, we have to call..." The police. Hah! The police. Satoshi hated to rely on them. "Call dad. He'll know what to do." The police, who had betrayed their family along with the lawmakers, would be the last resort.
Futaba did just that. "Hello? Yoichi! Yoichi, please, I... Can you come home for a little bit? I..."
Satoshi held out a hand. "I'll talk to him, mom." She passed it to him, nodding. "Hello, dad?"
"Satoshi? What's going on?"
"Our house..." Satoshi glanced at the graffiti, gaze hardening. "It's been vandalized. Someone spray-painted over the side of it. Mom's kinda freaking out. Do you think you can get away from work?"
"I see." His father sounded appropriately grim. "I'll speak to my boss, hold on." He hung up.
"Dad's on it," Satoshi told Futaba, closing her flip phone. "Um... We should probably take some pictures, too. If... If the police need it."
After taking pictures of the graffiti, Satoshi helped his mother clean up the mess she had made at their porch. Then he herded her inside, closing the front door behind them and locking it securely. As his mother rest in the kitchen, trying to recover from the shocking discovery, Satoshi secured the house, locking all the windows and closing the curtains.
His father arrived back home half an hour later. To Satoshi's dismay, Yoichi decided it was best for them to file a police report.
Not much happened, though.
"Right, well," said one of the officers sitting at their dining table when Satoshi passed through to get a snack from the kitchen. "There's not much we can do about this, but we'll keep an eye out for these troublemakers. For now, I suggest you and your family lay low and try not to upset anyone further."
Satoshi narrowed his eyes as he reached into the cabinet for a bag of chips. 'Upset anyone further'. None of this—none of it—sat right with him. Just hearing those words had him recoiling in sheer indignation. Why is everything our fault? What did we do? Why do we have to take the blame? Shouldn't you at least investigate a little more? Fucking cops.
Yoichi, who the pair of officers had been speaking to, set his jaw. "Thank you for your time, officers," he replied, evenly.
When the officers had marched out, Satoshi peered around the door frame. "Dad?"
"Hm?" Yoichi turned. "Ah, Satoshi... Did you hear all that?"
Satoshi nodded, fully entering the room. "It's not our fault, right?"
There was something sorrowful to Yoichi's smile. "No, sport," he ruffled Satoshi's hair, "Of course it's not. Between you and me," he added, "Those guys have no idea what they're doing."
For the first time in weeks, Satoshi chuckled. "Yeah." It was nice of his father to distract him like this—distract him from the fact that no, it wasn't because the police were totally incompetent, it was because they didn't see their family worth properly assisting.
"Don't worry, Satoshi." Yoichi's hand fell to his side. "I'm sure everything will work itself out. They always do."
Satoshi wanted so badly to believe him. And for a few days, he did.
Then, one night, their car exploded in flames.
January 2nd, 2013
Their parents didn't fight a lot, but when they did, it got heated.
Sometimes, when mom and dad fought especially bad, Hajime would cup his hands over Satoshi's ears. His calloused palms alone were not able to block out all of the sound, but the heat from his hands would make Satoshi feel more at ease.
"Is it over yet?" Satoshi would ask as he huddled in his brother's blankets.
"Not yet," Hajime would say, grinning in the face of adversity. "But don't worry, they'll make up soon."
And Hajime was always right—in the end, the thrashing seas would always become calm waters as they reached the shores of understanding and compassion. The waves that rocked their tiny boat would always smooth out.
Their voices pierced through the thin walls of their house. Satoshi had wrapped himself in his blankets, the whimsical background music of his favorite Tokémon games blaring through his earphones—loud enough to make his head pound but not enough to drown out the shouting.
"He's our son!"
"For god's sake, Yoichi, what if really did kill someone?! What does that make us?! We raised him! We raised a monster!"
"The only monster I'm seeing right now is you!"
Please... Satoshi squeezed his eyes shut, drawing the covers over his head. Shut up, please... Shut up.
"How dare you! How dare you!"
"You're abandoning our son!"
"I'm not abandoning anyone! Satoshi needs to—"
"HAJIME IS ALSO OUR SON!"
Satoshi had no tears left to cry. They had all dried on his cheeks and around his eyes. I'm so tired. He'd been sleeping more than usual lately, but he was still so, so tired. Was his mom trying to forget Hajime existed? How can she do that? But why wouldn't she? Why wouldn't she pick the only way she knew how to move on? His mother was caring and kind, but her heart was small—there wasn't enough room in there to carry the hurt.
He turned in his bed, earphones coming out during the motion. Satoshi didn't put them back in, just gazed at the window. From his position, he couldn't see very far out of it—could only really register the gray sunlight. Around this time, he would normally be playing Vario Cart with Hajime, and their mother would announce dinner an hour from now.
The smell of delicious, home-cooked food would have wafted through the gap between his bedroom door and the floor, and he and Hajime would have taken turns guessing what she had cooked.
"Agedashi tofu," Hajime would have begged the heavens, scowling when he lost to Satoshi for the umpteenth time.
"Nasu dengaku!" Satoshi would have declared in return, smirking when he crossed the finish line (Hajime would still be stuck on the second lap and driving in reverse. He was an idiot when it came to games).
I'm hungry...
He wanted to eat his mother's cooking.
He wanted to fight over the TV remote with his father.
He wanted to hang out with Hajime—nag him to help him with his homework or else his teacher would fail him, complain about his obsession with volleyball, dig for dirt about any of the teachers at Kitagawa.
Maybe once, he could have just walked into the house and expected all of those things.
The house was still here, but now—
It doesn't feel like home anymore.
January, 2013
On the fifth, his mother had an emotional breakdown.
On the twenty-eighth, they finalized their papers and sold the house.
On the thirtieth, they drove from Miyagi to Akita and never looked back.
A/N: Surprise mfs, it's an OC backstory but dw it'll only be 2 chapters long i promise which is sad for me because Satoshi's backstory is legit my favorite part of the entire story; it will also join up with the main story (like literally every other backstory) so i'm including it
After this, it's... THE TRIAL CHAPTERS... AND THEN THE EPILOGUE(S)... So yes, we're getting close to the end. I estimate this will end around 300k words, but don't take that too seriously because my estimates are always like... 99.9% totally wrong.
