Chapter 9: I Could Hear Your Inner Voice

SAIKI KUSUO

My throat is dry. I'm thirsty. I drink juice, but I don't feel any better.

That wasn't me.

Aren't I planning to watch an alien movie tonight? Why? Where did I hear about that?

That wasn't me either.

My problematic boyfriend? I'm too tired to work tomorrow. Too tired to deal with my boss. My garden. Plans to travel to Hokkaido? These aren't me. They can't be me. I don't know what these thoughts are.

Too many people are thinking at the same time, and they're doing it inside my head.

I press on the table, relishing on the pressure on my skin. This is me, I remind myself. This house is where I live. This path is the way from the kitchen to my room. This handrail is high, but I always hold onto it when I go down the stairs. I hold onto it now while going up, almost like I'm getting to know it again… This is where I hit my head, this spot on top. I thought Mom would be angry. I was always clumsy, but that one time, she didn't scold me…

This hallway has Mom and Dad's room, my younger brother's room, and my room. There is also a bathroom.

I shouldn't have borrowed money from my sister… No. This isn't me. Natori-san is so cool - who? Are you there? Did someone say that just now? Stop! This hallway, we're not allowed to run. Especially after taking a bath. Ritsu didn't listen. He got scolded.

I wonder what's for dinner? The news is so boring. I left my umbrella in the office.

I'll go down again. The backyard. We have a backyard.

I stop at the third step down. Halfway through is my younger brother, frozen at the side of the stairs, staring at me. This is perfect! "Ritsu, let's go to the park!"

He shakes his head with strong passion. Then with care, Ritsu makes a turnabout and goes down the stairs step-by-step. As he disappears out of my sight, his voice is strangely sharp and crisp in the muddled sea of consciousness pouring in my head.

"Mom! Mom!" He calls for her like a lost child. The way he says 'Mom' makes me think he's a different boy in school with a different mom. But this is my house. This is where I live. Ritsu is my brother and his mom is also my mom.

What's wrong, Ritsu?

Mom!

Did something happen?

"…something happen?"

"He was so excited last night. Maybe he had a bad dream."

"I don't think a bad dream could cause this." The voice contemplates deeply. "But Kusuo didn't use his powers for years. Maybe he's been holding it in, you know, like a really big fart."

"Papa, maybe Ku-chan isn't ready for middle school yet."

My eyes snap open, tearing decisively through the fog between dream and reality. School!

I jump out of the bed, my blanket flying. Papa tries to grab me from the other side as I bolt out slipping in my steps. My room is looking different this morning, what with the wall torn out, and my desk and mirror smashed to bits.

"Kusuo, careful! There's glass on the floor!"

"Ku-chan, where are you going?"

"I'm late for school! I can't be late. I need to be there with everyone." I rush to the bathroom, wash my face, brush my teeth.

Mama comes in, her hand brushing over my shoulder and tucking hair behind my ear. "Ku-chan, it's only the opening ceremony. We can still spend the day together, you know. There's no need to rush."

My heart sinks. "Are we not going?"

"We don't have to," she clarifies lovingly. "It's only been a year since Ku-chan has recovered. Running around in a hurry, it makes me worried."

Papa appears by the door as well to check in on me. "It's been more than a year, Mama. He'll be fine."

"See, Papa says it's okay."

When Mama throws an unconvinced look at Papa, he laughs. "We sent him camping a week ago. Surely he can handle going to school."

"Yes, but he ended up having a big accident in his sleep. When was the last time his psychic powers have been used that much?"

"January," I answer. When I get a collective stare from them, I return their confusion. "I told you two, didn't I? You were asking a lot of questions too."

Mama is wrought with worry. "When you went to Kannon-sama's temple to look for Ku-kun?"

"Yeah…"

"You told us Kusuke was a no-show, and that you spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out with Nendou-kun."

I back up as Papa got close too. "It's true, I didn't see Kusuke. But I sensed a really strong spiritual energy. Even ordinary people felt it, so I had to check it out... That's how I ran into Nendou-kun."

Did I really forget to tell them about my encounter with a psychic? I got distracted helping Riki, and then Koriko magically turned up in his room the next day. After that, we tried hanging out a few times, but Riki kept ending up in the wrong train, oversleeping, or losing track of time. I couldn't convince my parents to let me go to his house in Tokyo since I did go behind their backs to go there back in November. After all that, I had to study for exams, and then White Day, graduation…

A sense of urgency rises in me.

"Can we talk about this another time? I won't make it at this start. The sakura are blooming. My classmates and senpai are all there, wearing the same uniform."

"Kusuo," says my dad, taking a deep breath.

"Ku-chan." My mom gulps, almost scared.

"…What?" I ask warily when neither of them finish. Mama's hands fidget anxiously.

"The truth is…"

Papa eyes her like he's trying to read her lips. "Is that… I…I fell from my chair this morning and hit my head on the corner of my desk! Papa has a concussion and can't go to your school, I'm sorry!"

Mama is horrified. "Oh my goodness, Papa! Why didn't you tell me? Are you okay? Huh, what is it?" The two share in a secret, hushed discussion. "Oh, I see, I see… Oh my… Okay… Ku-chan," - Mama looks at me dead in the eyes - "Papa watched a cursed video tape and only has seven days to live."

"NO!That's going too far!"

I consider this news with apprehension. "That's bad. If we have to wait a whole week for the curse to manifest, I might forget and Papa will die."

"Couldn't you at least mark saving your papa in your calendar?"

With both my parents piled up on the door, I have to use telekinesis to bring my uniform over from my room. "For now, try watching the video again. Maybe doing it twice will speed up the curse."

"I'll make us some popcorn," squeals Mama. Papa leans over again for a series of harsh whisperings. "Oh! Sorry, this is all just too believable… I mean - wait, Ku-chan!"

Haven't they been looking forward to the opening ceremony as much as I did? I finish buttoning my uniform. I've put it on fourteen times before as practice, so I don't have to worry about leaving without checking how I look with it.

I stop by the table, my pockets weighted with protein bars. That's odd. The table hasn't been set yet. Had I actually woken up early?

I gasp sharply at the hands of the clock.

2:30 PM.

My parents stumble out of the stairs, talking incoherently at the same time. Is this what they're worrying?

"It's fine." I hadn't known how powerful I was. Two words have silenced them both. "Can I still go?

"Look, Kusuo, you can see the cluster of sakura from here."

I hum neutrally. They are pretty, peeking out buildings and ads.

"I thought you wanted to see them," he remarks in confusion.

"I want to see them blooming in the school. With other people my age walking side-by-side, talking about their dreams."

Papa smiles. "I see. You're thinking about the wonders of youth, Kusuo. Making friends, learning about yourself, discovering your passion and creating precious memories. Live in the moment, and you'll turn into a wonderful young man."

I nod to my dad's sagely advice.

As we cross a busy street, Papa's hand drops on my far shoulder. "But if things get too hard, don't hesitate to let us know. Your first time back at school had given you unsavory memories. So anytime you want to start fresh again, Papa will sort it out."

It's a reassurance. But unless he's a psychic who can rewind time, there's no way for me to experience my first day as a middle school student again. I told them it was fine, but I think I said that because I didn't know how else I was supposed to accept it. A belated realization is dawning on me as I think back on my parents' reaction. Would they have never told me the truth?

"I was born with telepathy, right?"

Papa is caught surprised by the change of topic. "You were. Your first words came echoing right in our heads when you were just two weeks old." When I don't follow-up on the question, mindful of not bumping at other pedestrians, he prods, "What's wrong? Did it come back?"

"If it did, would it bother Papa?"

"I think we would have to be careful if any of your old powers come back," he replies after considering the possibility.

I turn away from the menu a cafe waitress is holding out, blinking. "That's…"

"What is it?" presses Papa gently.

"That's not what I meant," I finish. "What if I could hear your inner voice right now?"

"And? If you could, what about it?"

I lose my breath, daring myself to be bold and say it. "I would know you're lying."

Why does it feel bad to say it? Even though it's lying that's bad, telling someone they are feels worse. Before the regret piles on, Papa does what I never would think to do in this situation. Rubbing the back of his neck, he laughs. Nervous, sheepish. Guilty.

"I suppose you would. Your mom and I went a bit far, but I hope you know it's because we didn't want to see you get hurt. Could you forgive us?"

My eyes widen in disbelief. "You mean it?"

"Of course!" cries Papa, passionately. In his passion, he elbows a salary man on his phone. "Oh crap, I'm so sorry!"

Too occupied in his call, the salary man lets Papa off with a dark glare. Once Papa is done apologizing to the stranger, he resumes his profuse apology to me.

"Are you that mad, Kusuo? At least don't be mad at Mama, please!"

My reflex pounces again. "I'm not mad." I can't really describe what I'm feeling, but it did bother me. My shoulders slump, and the gate at my throat opens up. The words I didn't want to accept out runs free. "If only I was able to wake up on time, none of these would have happened."

Papa pats my back. "It happens, Kusuo. Papa has troubles waking up too! A lot of people do, it's very common. Don't think too much of it."

The orientation ended half an hour ago.

"He's only been to school for a year and half. He's still adjusting, but he's doing his best," confides Papa to the teacher, hoping for understanding. "He's very hard-working. He takes evening jogs regularly, and he lifts weights while watching anime. You don't hear that often about a thirteen-year-old, right?" He laughs jovially like he's said an ice-breaking joke.

I'm in shock. Why is Papa talking about my routine like they're supposed to be impressive? What's going on?

My homeroom teacher is already being kind. Even I understand absence from oversleeping is very irresponsible. But Papa doubles down on my shame.

"Kusuo-kun might be interested in joining a sports club. We have judo, tennis, swimming, track, and basketball."

"Ah, Kusuo can't handle anything too taxing yet." he clarifies quickly. "He's fully recovered as far as we know, but my wife and I are still being cautious since doctors never figured out what mysterious illness befell him. He was six years old. Becoming extremely sick that young, we're worried about relapses and side-effects…"

"That's understandable," says my teacher, nodding in agreement. "There are many more clubs to choose from that can enrich Kusuo-kun's character. For instance, there's the book club - "

"A book club!" exclaims Papa, very pleased. "That's perfect. Kusuo loves reading manga. He also likes coloring. Is there an art club?"

"But of course."

I cannot believe this. I never wanted to melt on the spot so badly until now. What happened? Where did I go wrong? It's true I don't know my dad as well as my mom since he's always been busy working. In the time we've spent though, I had the impression he was easygoing. He always encourages me to follow my heart, pushing me to go out the house more. And earlier, he was on my side in letting me go to school.

Hold on… If Mama were overbearing, why did she let me go to Kannon-sama's temple alone? On the other hand, it was Papa who said I wasn't allowed to go to Tokyo to visit Nendou. Mama was okay with it since I've been to Tokyo before, but Papa insisted I shouldn't be taking advantage of my freedom.

Also, when I started exercising to regain my physical strength, Mama was worried but for my sake, she settled on accompanying me to make sure I was okay. On the other hand, Papa insisted I should slack around. Even I thought that was a little weird to say back then. If it's for my good, is it really okay not to do it?

I hold out by deafening my ears with my willpower. When the grown-ups are finished, Papa leaves the faculty office more confident than I can ever dream of being. Papa talked so much I thought he forgot I existed, but I was wrong.

"You were really quiet back there. Are you not feeling well?"

I avoid his eyes tensely, wrapping my arm around me. "You talked about my private life. It was embarrassing."

"Really? Those are just facts. It's who you are. There's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"You said it would only be an introduction."

I must have sounded accusatory as Papa immediately bends over in the apology pose I have seen enough times today. "My bad, my bad. It must have been shocking to you. Don't worry, that talk your teacher and I had is normal."

'Don't worry?' Do I look like I'm worrying right now? Is he saying I'm at fault for feeling this way?

"Clearly, I'm not. I'm not normal." My jaw is shaking so badly I had to consciously say every word to keep myself from stuttering. "And you made sure of that."

For once, Papa doesn't know what to say.

"I'll walk myself around the school," I grumble. I don't want to give him a reason to make me stay and talk to him any longer. As long as I'm in the school, there shouldn't be a problem. What he does in the meantime though - I don't care, but I hope he feels a bit bad.

"Goodness!"

Equally startled, I flinch. "Sorry!" My hands instinctively reach for the door that's already hit the side with a snap. I haven't seen a single person in the school in my aimless touring. The classroom was the least place I expected to finally run into someone.

The someone is my age in the same uniform as I'm, sitting surrounded by spreads of newspapers and reference books across several desks. He has a bowl-cut, wheat-brown hair, not quite blond but light enough to be mistaken as a foreigner's if not for his unmistakably Japanese features. He resumes quickly to his work.

"Neither of us expected what had transpired a second ago. It's nothing to apologize about." His head is bowed from how close he's inspecting the photographs in his two hands. He doesn't appear to be enjoying or disliking what he's studying. "But, I am expecting a certain person to arrive soon. Though that expectation is meaningless since I'm fully absorbed in my thoughts and unaware of my surroundings. I actually forgot about my situation. In other words, with my energy being diverted to thinking, my physical senses are currently short-sighted to influences outside my bubble."

I panic. I'm trying to repeat in my head some of the things he said, but I didn't catch all of them. The day has been horrible at it is. I don't want the first student I meet in the school think I'm being rude.

"I know." I really did. I think I get what he said, but I'm coming short of what else to add. The boy spares me from elaborating as he muses aloud.

"A total lack of evidence on a pile of evidence. I do regret not making the time to see it myself."

"What is it?"

Without any pause, the boy shuffles to make space for me. I take it as an invitation and sit at the edge of a chair, watching as he lays out for me a bunch of photographs, highlighting four different pictures that do not seem to be related at first.

"A is the roots of a tree, every sign showing that it has grown naturally according to its environment. But the rest of its upper half have been ripped off. The force necessary to do that based on the damage would be a hurricane with the speed of at least 200 miles per hour. It's not known where the tree has gone. B is the soil twelve inches from the tree. Like the roots, there are no abnormalities. C is the surrounding trees of this particular curiosity. I'm sure it's obvious they don't look right."

I nod. The trees in this picture have been stretched and bent backward, looking like frozen actors in a tableau. "I thought they were fake."

"It looks like it, doesn't it? Now, this is D - the most interesting one despite it being particles of a rock inside a test tube: the presence of magnetically-charged plasma particles, the kind of energy that so happens to exist in black holes."

"Where's the video of it happening?"

"There isn't any. Though if you look up 'Yamanashi camping site tree,' there won't be a shortage of hoaxes. Some adult campers present claimed three elementary students saw it. Then it was corrected to one, and then the claim changed again to there being no witness."

"How confusing." Why are people's stories changing, and how did no one see this happen?

"You agree? That's great," the student enthuses, ignoring his ringing phone. "The photos themselves aren't proof. Seeing isn't believe, you see. To believe is to observe with radical discrimination. Our eyes are not brains." He shows me the papers and articles next, none of which I could read fast enough. "Only by becoming aware of the facts I'm able to investigate 'truth.'"

"Your pho - "

"Yes, I'm not deaf. I wanted to finish what I was saying. Hello? Well, it's a customary 'hello,' of course. I know it's Megumi-san calling, but why did you call instead of coming here?" The boy hasn't stopped to catch his breath, or to take a pause, not even between talking to me and answering his phone. "Something must have come up, I assume. But you could have emailed me. Oh, but that would lead me to losing track of time again, since I don't check my emails at all. How unfortunate. Oh, but I am thankful for your consideration. I really am. I know I sound sarcastic, but I genuinely, sincerely am thankful. I'm bowing my head right now as we speak. Do you want to hear me bang my head on the desk?"

Finally, he pauses. Thankfully, he doesn't start banging his head. I wouldn't know what to do.

"Okay, I copy you. Goodbye! Well, I have to go," he says in one whole sentence.

I scurry to my feet to help the boy gather his materials. "Are you going home?"

"I'm stopping by the convenience store, but pretty much. You're not going to ask to walk home together, are you? I had fun talking with you, but I'm too busy to hang out with anyone. Not that I know what that feels like. I've never had friends."

"We can be friends," I say quickly.

"Maybe." The boy is meticulous in sorting his stuffs back in his bag. "Well, we can exchange names at least. Want to do something different?"

He doesn't wait for me to answer, but I think my look of anticipation is enough confirmation.

"How about we call each other by first name? There's no reason to it. You don't have to agree if you don't want to."

"No, I like that! I'm Kusuo, what's your name?"

The boy is surprised at my eagerness. "Are you sure? Like I said, there's no reason behind it. It's not weird to not do it."

Has the question been some sort of test? "But it's fine for me…"

"Oh… In that case -" The boy smiles widely. " - I'm Asumi Touma. Do you prefer Kusuo or Kusuo-kun?"

"Kusuo. Can I call you Touma then?"

We walk to the school gate together talking about our family and previous schools. After we wave goodbyes, Papa emerges from the side, having waited outside the entire time.

"You made a friend already? That's great."

My eyes widen. "What happened?" Papa's eyes are red and his nostrils have flared up. It's early spring with vicious pollen waves striking Japan in the news again recently. "Did you forget to take your allergy medicine again?"

Papa laughs with a throaty crack. "No, it's not that. I did some thinking, and I might have overdone it."

"Your head started hurting?" Papa takes me aside near a blooming sakura and goes down on one knee, joints being openly disgruntled for me to hear.

"I got a bit emotional."

"You cried," I conclude, staring at him. I was worried something happened with Mama, but I could tell he was thinking about what I said before. It's what I wanted to happen, but this isn't how I expected it to affect him.

"I did. I hope you don't think less of me."

"I didn't know grown-ups cry." I process this revelation. No matter the hours and days he can't come home due to work, he comes back full of life and energy. The Papa I know is strong and confident. He always has an answer for every question. There's no problem that can give him a headache. He always has a plan, reassuring Mama and I that everything will turn out fine.

I don't see him sad. I've never seen him angry either. Not when I ran off to Tokyo alone late at night, nor when Kusuke made him pay for our hotel bills the following day. I asked him if he were mad at Kusuke for tricking him, but Papa had been very content. "Why would I be? It's the father who has to pay for the needs of his children, not the other way around."

"Why?" I ask, still wrapping my mind around it. "Don't you have other problems to cry about? Why would you…" Cry from something his thirteen-year-old son said? How could a grown-up be affected?

"Are you saying there are things more important than you?"

"Mm… Like money, the house, politics…" Money is the only matter I'm certain about. I wasn't sure what else, but I felt like there had to be more that a person like me hadn't considered.

He looks at me with his face, eyes still puffy and red, turned resolute. "There isn't. You, Kusuke, and your mom are the only ones that matter in my life. I can't stand the thought of anything happening to the three of you."

Kusuke is already doing who-knows-what wherever he is though. Does that mean he's cried for him already? Mama has always been deeply troubled by my brother. She has these rites to make the house Kusuke-friendly like he were a family cat that had gotten lost. His room is cleaned weekly, he still gets presents and New Year's money, and there are visible notes left instructing him of emergency numbers and the location of a spare house key.

To think Papa felt the same…

"I was only thinking about myself. I'm sorry."

With a reconciling smile, Papa embraces me. "There's nothing for you to ever apologize about. You didn't hurt me. I was angry at myself for making you feel angry. You should always think about yourself. Be as selfish as you want, Kusuo."

Pink petals hang stranded on the back of my dad's brown hair. While pulling them out, a violent chill passes through him, his arms locking tighter and almost making me fall.

"Tell me your every dream, your every wish, whatever it is. I'll make them possible. I'll do anything!" he declares, weeping over my shoulder. "I just don't want to lose you again. Never - never again!"

Is Ritsu sick? He looks down recently.

That's Dad's voice. I can recognize him now. The scratching of crayons has been reduced from two to one, though Ritsu doesn't seem to notice. I go back to coloring this elephant red.

His temperature is fine. He's eating, too, but he hasn't been talking as much. That's Mom. They're talking by the kitchen. Ritsu can't hear them, but I can.

Did he and Shigeo have a fight? Dad sounds so dubious.

I don't know… He doesn't understand what's going on.

It's just his brother's hair changing. Is it really that confusing?

Sometimes, it feels like it's more than that. Shige used to be so absent-minded but ever since - that - he hasn't forgotten anything. He's always on time for meals and for baths. I don't have to go to his room anymore.

Iku, he's growing up.

It's more than that. It's - it's horrible for me to even consider about. I know it is! But I can't - I can't get it out of my mind. I have nightmares. I'm being punished.

I'll make us tea. Let's sit down and calm down…

"Mom?" calls Ritsu.

"What is it?" Mom smiles from the chair.

"Stars are white. But Tsubomi-chan says they're yellow."

"Ah, stars can be either, dear."

"But I checked last night. They're white," he argues, unconvinced.

"They're made out of fire so they're yellow. But they're white in the sky," I supply.

Ritsu stares at his stars, torn on what to do with them.

"Where did you learn that, Shige?" asks my mom, very pleased.

I smile widely. "The TV."

Mom smiles back. "That's wonderful. Keep on teaching your brother, okay?"

I nod fervently.

Dad returns, handing Mom her cup. "Here you go."

"Thank you…"

Not finding blue in the crayon box, I survey Ritsu's side of the table in case it rolled over to him. "Ritsu, can I borrow - "

Is he really my son?

My head snaps to Mom. We stare; her face, turning pale.