Battle Royale '03
Part Eleven
67
Shizuka awoke with a killer pain in her head, so painful that if she sat up she had to lie back down very quickly to stop the throbbing. She squinted as a harsh light was stabbing her in the eyes. "Where am I?"
"You're in the hospital," a doctor replied. "You suffered a concussion and we also have to give you some antibiotics. The wounds you sustained got infected, but luckily we combatted the infections quickly. I know you have an increased sensitivity to light, but you'll get over that very soon."
"I feel drunk, doctor."
"I know you do, Miss Arai."
"Where are my friends?"
"Your friends? Oh, the other two that the Americans brought in? Right here." The doctor pulled aside some curtains and revealed that Shizuka and Junko were sharing a hospital room. "Miss Mizuboshi isn't awake yet...She will be soon, though. Don't fret. She won't die."
"What about Kiyoharu?"
"The boy? He's in the hall getting some coffee, he'll be back as soon as possible." The doctor bowed out of the room, leaving Shizuka alone with her thoughts...and a cable TV. Of course she picked the cable TV and news about Japan's liberation was everywhere. Then there was a segment about her!!
"Although it was reported that the very last Program, for Kitagawa Junior High in Kobe, ended with everyone dying, we have a report from Kobe General Hospital that the three are in stable condition except for Junko Mizuboshi, who is still unconscious as of right now." Pictures of their old student IDs were flashed onscreen, which was a rude flashback to the time when Shizuka had jet-black bobcut hair, Junko's hair wasn't as long or layered as it was now and Kiyoharu...well, he wasn't bleaching at the time. Suddenly, Junko opened her eyes, as if the report on the news actually awoke her from unconsciousness.
"Hey," she said feebly.
"Look," Shizuka said, pointing to the TV. "We're on the news."
"Cool. What happened?"
"I can't explain it. My head is throbbing." The door to the room opened and Kiyoharu entered with three cans of coffee. He looked at the TV, then walked over to Shizuka's bedside.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
"I just woke up, so did Junko...we both can't stand to see light. What day is it?" Shizuka squinted to avoid that damn flourescent light that was above her head.
"It's Sunday. You slept all through the rest of Saturday and it's 3:45 pm now. You two were knocked out for a very long time. I was really worried." Kiyoharu gently touched the gauze bandage wrapped around Shizuka's forehead, then retracted his hand.
"What do I have on my head?"
"A bandage. There's a terrible, terrible bruise under there."
"Another bruise?" Shizuka was saddened by this news. Kiyoharu gently squeezed her hand, treating her as if she were so fragile that she could break into a million tiny pieces at any moment.
"It'll fade, I promise. The doctor told me it would. Thank God you didn't sustain any skull fractures or damage. Just a bruise that's about ten different colors. Here, have a canned cuppa." He handed her the 'cuppa' and walked over to Junko's bed.
"Same thing," he sighed, looking at her gauze. "I got you a cuppa too." He put the other cuppa on Junko's bedside table, then noticed she was holding something. "What's that?"
"This?" Junko unfurled her hand to show a piece of paper that molded into a ball shape from being pent up in a fist for so long. It was somewhat stained with blood, but who cared, right? "It's the last thing I ever got from Masao. Look." She shyly handed it to Kiyoharu, who unfurled the paper. It was a simple note, written in Masao's big, blocky script, with three Chinese characters in a row. "He tells me that, translated into Japanese, it means 'I Love You'. Cheesy, huh? But the sentimental value's through the roof."
"I've still got the map and class list in my school coat, wherever that is."
"Now that we're a democracy," Kiyoharu began, drinking from his 'cuppa'. "You can read '1984' without risk of being killed for it. And I can listen to London Calling without having to lie about who I'm listening to."
"Hey, Kiyoharu?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me more about democracy. And the Clash. And everything."
"Everything?" He saw Shizuka's sweet little girl nod. "All right. If I pause, it's because I need air after telling the Japanese soldier about the Program." Junko listened in as Kiyoharu explained what a democracy was, then went into a long lecture on bands he liked and hated. Shizuka listened intently to the whole discussion.
68
Shizuka, Kiyoharu and Junko were watching TV when a nurse came to the door.
"Um, Miss Arai? There's someone here for you. There are also people for you, Miss Mizuboshi, and you, Mr. Moritaka."
"Bring them in," Shizuka commanded, finishing off her cuppa. She heard the sounds of people running up the stairs and then a swarm of adults burst into the room. First, a tall woman with exactly the same pale skin and facial structure as Shizuka; a woman with permed hair crying hysterically on the shoulder of her husband, who was trying to console her; and then a woman with a beaming smile on her face and a cross necklace on.
"Mom?" Shizuka asked.
"Mom? Dad?" Junko asked.
"Mom?" Kiyoharu asked.
"You three...you didn't die! Oh, it's a miracle! The Lord saved my son," Mrs. Moritaka commented, smothering Kiyoharu in a gigantic bear hug which Shizuka giggled at.
"Shizuka...you're alive," Mrs. Arai whispered.
"Hey, Mom," Shizuka said ever-so-casually. "Where's stepdad?"
"Oh, he went into jail, just like I said he would. He can apply for parole in...about 25 years, and by then you'll be an adult and he'll be old as dirt." Mrs. Arai smiled. "How long are you gonna be in here?"
"I'm not sure, you should ask Kiyoharu, the doctors probably told him everything while we were knocked out."
"Mom, Dad, I hurt my leg," Junko complained. "I might not be able to run for a while."
"Oh, that's quite all right, baby, don't worry. Just heal and get better. Then come out and see the new Japan. It's so wonderful! They're already building strange things like "McDonalds" and "Starbucks". Also, the black market became a legitimate shopping mall! Isn't that great? Now you can keep buying those Nikes that make you seem to go faster, not those cruddy domestic shoes," Mrs. Mizuboshi gushed on and on about democracy. "I'm in an eternal debt to the Americans for doing this. And after decades of them being portrayed as the villain, too! Imagine that they would help us in the end!"
After jubilant talk between the children and the adults, a doctor came in.
"Oh...sorry to interrupt anything. Um, the two girls can go now. They don't have to be treated for anything else. We'll just give them some sample packs of antibiotics and send them on their merry way." The two girls struggled to get out of their hospital beds, then noticed they were still in their grimy, dirty, bloodied school uniforms.
"We'll have to take you three shopping," Mrs. Mizuboshi pointed out. The girls perked up. Shizuka noted that her Chuck Taylors were so muddy and wet that they hardly looked like the pretty, shiny, clean black pair she purchased from a girl with three different hair colors so long ago. It seemed mind-boggling that now she could buy the same shoes without the risk of being arrested or killed. Of course she wanted to go, get out of the hospital, even though she had the pain of a migraine headache pounding in her head.
69
The fire crackled as someone threw in an eighth-grade world history book. Shizuka hurled her art history book in the growing bonfire, the art book being thrown in because it only praised Japanese art and not American art. A gigantic seventh-grade literature book made the fire's flames lick higher up in the sky. It was December, almost the end of term, and the students of Kitagawa Jr. High were burning their old propagandistic textbooks. New textbooks were slated to come over holiday break. Exams were canceled and the students couldn't be any more delirious with excitement, as a vacation without the stress of awaiting exam results was right around the corner. The smell of burning plastic and paper permeated the air as the kids saw the high school bonfires growing larger and larger. The entire city of Kobe turned just a few simple bonfires into a full-out matsuri, with food available from small stands and games for the little kids after they threw in their books praising Mommy, Daddy and the Dictator.
"Isn't it great?" Junko asked, eating some almonds coated in cinnamon and sugar. She took out her bookbag and threw her history book into the flames. "I feel so free. I always knew there was a world outside of this country but never knew how to get there or see it." The kids were awaiting a brand-new subject which was forbidden before Japan's liberation--learning English. Authentic English speakers were even going to teach the class, something the kids never heard of before. Junko shivered. The weather was getting much colder and someone predicted snow would be coming very soon.
Shizuka threw her algebra book in. Yes, even math books found ways to be propagandistic. In fact, the staff of the school were even throwing in their teacher's editions because those also praised a nonexistant Dictator. Once the supply of propaganda textbooks ran dry, people began burning other propagandistic items. The fire burned on almost all night long.
Shizuka and Kiyoharu sat by a stand selling okonomiyaki. Shizuka was eating a shish kabob, then she swallowed a bite of chicken and began to talk.
"You know..." she began. "I found out the location of that Program cemetery. It's in Sapporo. Once I turn 15 I could get a holiday part-time job to pay for train tickets and the three of us could go up there. Junko's been wanting to since the Program ended."
"No need to even stress over getting a job, Shizuka," Kiyoharu replied. "I'm sure we could get our parents to let us go. It's a good purpose, right? We're not going up to Sapporo to get drunk or anything." Shizuka giggled and had to point the shish kabob away from her eyes so she wouldn't have an accident.
"You know, I still can't get over the fact that our whole class is dead. I don't think I'll ever be able to. I'm going to cry so much when the yearbook comes out." After the three returned to school, they were sorted into class 3-B, then renamed class 3-B 3-A because they needed a new 3-A. The 3-B kids gave the three an incredibly hard time when they first transferred in, referring to them as the zombies and asking how many kids they killed all the time, even though the three were probably the only players that didn't kill everyone in sight. Shizuka's eyes got misty at this thought, the thought of the yearbook reflecting a happy, full class 3-A even though 27 of the kids no longer existed.
"Hey..." Kiyoharu hugged her. "It's gonna hurt for a while, a long time, but part of living is moving on and accepting, right? I think Junko is just now starting to come to terms with Masao's death. It really broke her inside, didn't it? She still has the paper she showed me in the hospital."
"I guess you're right. Which reminds me, are you going to take any entrance exams?"
"Yeah, just to the public high schools, though. I don't want to burden my parents by making them pay tuitions."
"I'm doing that, too. I really hope we can get into the same school."
"Shizuka, don't you know that entrance exam woes only start coming up in March? It's way too early for this talk. Besides, both your birthday and Christmas are soon. Aren't you usually more joyful around this time of year?"
"Last year I wasn't because of the stepdad, but the greatest birthday and Christmas presents I could ever get are the presents of freedom. Freedom from an abusive family member and freedom from the iron claws of a dictatorship. Sure, money, my learner's license and other assorted gifts would also be great, but freedom has to be the best one I've gotten this year." Shizuka leaned her head on Kiyoharu's shoulder. "Maybe someday we can truly be normal schoolkids again?"
"That's a good thought," Kiyoharu replied as the two watched the bonfires burning on and on.
70
The day after Christmas, the three got on a train bound from Kobe to Sapporo. It was going to be a long ride, so everyone made sure to pack their CDs. Amazing new Japanese rock bands were starting to come out of the bomb shelter "arenas" and get signed to major labels, so there was an assortment of English and American rock/punk and Japanese rock in the CD collections of the entire trio. Shizuka locked away her old copy of 1984 in a fishing tackle box, because now she had a shiny new legitimately translated copy. Even though a cloud of gloom hung over the trio because they weren't going to Sapporo to have fun, they decided to make the best of the trip up there. Junko talked about a boy in 3-B, ending every sentence about him with, "I don't know..." She remembered exactly what Masao told her, "do it for the one who fell through the cracks". And she held a bouquet of mixed-color roses in her hand the entire train ride.
It was already snowing in Sapporo. Everyone was walking around hidden under layer after layer of clothing, and here came these three kids wearing only two layers of clothes. Although they were cold, they made the best of it. They walked around downtown Sapporo, asking passers-by if they knew where the Program cemetery was. A lot of people were dumbfounded but eventually a nice old man in a ramen shop told them the exact location. Kiyoharu thanked her profusely, then asked how he knew where it was when it seemed nobody else did.
"My grandson was in the Program," the old man replied sadly. "The one that just ended a month ago, you know?" He squinted at the three again. "Wait a minute, you look kind of like the three children I saw on the news! Did you know my grandson?"
"Who was your grandson?" Junko asked.
"His name was Toru Niimura. He also had a sister, Kanako. Did you know them?" The three exchanged nods. "Do you think they're in a better place now?" The man looked over at a small corner behind the counter, where framed school pictures of Toru, Kanako and a picture of an old woman dressed in a full kimono were surrounded by candles and incense.
"I know they're in a better place now, sir," Shizuka replied. Junko and Kiyoharu nodded in agreement.
"Please, could you take these to their graves?" The man retrieved some flowers from behind the counter. "Thank you so much. When you're done, come back here and feel free to order ramen...on the house."
With the bouquets for Masao, Toru and Kanako in hand, the three went straight for the Program cemetery. It was in a deserted field outside of town and the graves were tipped with snow. Other parents and children were also there, either walking through the rows looking for someone or mourning at someone's grave.
"Over there..." Junko pointed to a row of older-looking graves. "...are the graves for the first Programs, all the way up to the 1970s. Over here..." She pointed to a row of newer-looking graves. "...are the graves for the second batch of Programs, all the way up to 2003. I suppose we go to the newest ones?" Shizuka and Kiyoharu noticed tears forming in her eyes already as she walked through the snow, looking for Masao's grave. Finally, she found it. She got down on her knees in front of it and placed the roses in a slot on the grave just for flowers or incense.
"I've missed you every day," she told the grave as Kiyoharu and Shizuka looked on. "Not a single day goes by when I don't think of you, Masao, and I really do think I loved you, too." She sniffled, then decided what the hell and began to cry. "I hope you're in a better place now, no, I'm sure you are. But I've got one question to ask you." Sniffle. "Are Tetsuko and Sakura still whores or what?"
Shizuka broke down and began to sob, too. Then she whispered for Kiyoharu to go over there and hug Junko.
"But, but I'm with you..."
"Just do it. She needs one right now."
"But..."
"Look, Kiyoharu, I'm on my period right now and I'm as emotionally charged as they come, but I am also fierce and violent when I'm on the rag. Now go over there and hug her like I'm going to take a picture and get it published on a greeting card, okay? I'll go put the roses on the Niimura graves." Kiyoharu obeyed and smothered Junko in a hug as Shizuka walked off to look for the Niimura graves.
"Kiyo...haru? You're hugging m-m-me?"
"Of course. You're my friend, aren't you, and friends can hug each other without feeling any romantic feelings inside. Besides, you definitely need it. I miss Masao too, he was a great friend and just all around an awesome guy to be with." He looked at the roses, which Junko didn't unwrap from their floral bag. "Here, I'll unwrap these for you. Someone who tends this graveyard will fill it with water when it's not freezing every day." He delicately took the flowers out from their bag and placed them in the holder, only getting pricked by thorns three times.
"Thanks, Kiyoharu," Junko said gratefully. "But hey, do you suppose he never got the courage to tell me?"
"Tell you...how he felt?"
"Yeah."
"That's the thing about guys." He helped Junko to her feet. "We bottle up things. We fear rejection probably more than you girls do, so we bottle up how we truly feel inside and try to mask it. But eventually, the bottle breaks and the mask falls off. Masao, in my opinion, couldn't have chosen a better time to confess. Shizuka confessed to me during the Program, too."
"I suppose the fact that you could die at any moment arouses some kind of emotion inside?" Junko tried to shrug that off with a 'heh'.
"Probably so," Shizuka butted in, having placed the roses on both graves. "I want to be a psychologist someday so I can figure out these things." The three looked to the sky, snowflakes falling and resting on their rosy cheeks. They sighed, thinking about how 27 of their peers were now up there, beyond the clouds, then cast one last look at the graves before leaving the graveyard. They acted on Mr. Niimura's promise of ramen and had a meal, then took the train bound for Kobe back home.
Part Eleven
67
Shizuka awoke with a killer pain in her head, so painful that if she sat up she had to lie back down very quickly to stop the throbbing. She squinted as a harsh light was stabbing her in the eyes. "Where am I?"
"You're in the hospital," a doctor replied. "You suffered a concussion and we also have to give you some antibiotics. The wounds you sustained got infected, but luckily we combatted the infections quickly. I know you have an increased sensitivity to light, but you'll get over that very soon."
"I feel drunk, doctor."
"I know you do, Miss Arai."
"Where are my friends?"
"Your friends? Oh, the other two that the Americans brought in? Right here." The doctor pulled aside some curtains and revealed that Shizuka and Junko were sharing a hospital room. "Miss Mizuboshi isn't awake yet...She will be soon, though. Don't fret. She won't die."
"What about Kiyoharu?"
"The boy? He's in the hall getting some coffee, he'll be back as soon as possible." The doctor bowed out of the room, leaving Shizuka alone with her thoughts...and a cable TV. Of course she picked the cable TV and news about Japan's liberation was everywhere. Then there was a segment about her!!
"Although it was reported that the very last Program, for Kitagawa Junior High in Kobe, ended with everyone dying, we have a report from Kobe General Hospital that the three are in stable condition except for Junko Mizuboshi, who is still unconscious as of right now." Pictures of their old student IDs were flashed onscreen, which was a rude flashback to the time when Shizuka had jet-black bobcut hair, Junko's hair wasn't as long or layered as it was now and Kiyoharu...well, he wasn't bleaching at the time. Suddenly, Junko opened her eyes, as if the report on the news actually awoke her from unconsciousness.
"Hey," she said feebly.
"Look," Shizuka said, pointing to the TV. "We're on the news."
"Cool. What happened?"
"I can't explain it. My head is throbbing." The door to the room opened and Kiyoharu entered with three cans of coffee. He looked at the TV, then walked over to Shizuka's bedside.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
"I just woke up, so did Junko...we both can't stand to see light. What day is it?" Shizuka squinted to avoid that damn flourescent light that was above her head.
"It's Sunday. You slept all through the rest of Saturday and it's 3:45 pm now. You two were knocked out for a very long time. I was really worried." Kiyoharu gently touched the gauze bandage wrapped around Shizuka's forehead, then retracted his hand.
"What do I have on my head?"
"A bandage. There's a terrible, terrible bruise under there."
"Another bruise?" Shizuka was saddened by this news. Kiyoharu gently squeezed her hand, treating her as if she were so fragile that she could break into a million tiny pieces at any moment.
"It'll fade, I promise. The doctor told me it would. Thank God you didn't sustain any skull fractures or damage. Just a bruise that's about ten different colors. Here, have a canned cuppa." He handed her the 'cuppa' and walked over to Junko's bed.
"Same thing," he sighed, looking at her gauze. "I got you a cuppa too." He put the other cuppa on Junko's bedside table, then noticed she was holding something. "What's that?"
"This?" Junko unfurled her hand to show a piece of paper that molded into a ball shape from being pent up in a fist for so long. It was somewhat stained with blood, but who cared, right? "It's the last thing I ever got from Masao. Look." She shyly handed it to Kiyoharu, who unfurled the paper. It was a simple note, written in Masao's big, blocky script, with three Chinese characters in a row. "He tells me that, translated into Japanese, it means 'I Love You'. Cheesy, huh? But the sentimental value's through the roof."
"I've still got the map and class list in my school coat, wherever that is."
"Now that we're a democracy," Kiyoharu began, drinking from his 'cuppa'. "You can read '1984' without risk of being killed for it. And I can listen to London Calling without having to lie about who I'm listening to."
"Hey, Kiyoharu?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell me more about democracy. And the Clash. And everything."
"Everything?" He saw Shizuka's sweet little girl nod. "All right. If I pause, it's because I need air after telling the Japanese soldier about the Program." Junko listened in as Kiyoharu explained what a democracy was, then went into a long lecture on bands he liked and hated. Shizuka listened intently to the whole discussion.
68
Shizuka, Kiyoharu and Junko were watching TV when a nurse came to the door.
"Um, Miss Arai? There's someone here for you. There are also people for you, Miss Mizuboshi, and you, Mr. Moritaka."
"Bring them in," Shizuka commanded, finishing off her cuppa. She heard the sounds of people running up the stairs and then a swarm of adults burst into the room. First, a tall woman with exactly the same pale skin and facial structure as Shizuka; a woman with permed hair crying hysterically on the shoulder of her husband, who was trying to console her; and then a woman with a beaming smile on her face and a cross necklace on.
"Mom?" Shizuka asked.
"Mom? Dad?" Junko asked.
"Mom?" Kiyoharu asked.
"You three...you didn't die! Oh, it's a miracle! The Lord saved my son," Mrs. Moritaka commented, smothering Kiyoharu in a gigantic bear hug which Shizuka giggled at.
"Shizuka...you're alive," Mrs. Arai whispered.
"Hey, Mom," Shizuka said ever-so-casually. "Where's stepdad?"
"Oh, he went into jail, just like I said he would. He can apply for parole in...about 25 years, and by then you'll be an adult and he'll be old as dirt." Mrs. Arai smiled. "How long are you gonna be in here?"
"I'm not sure, you should ask Kiyoharu, the doctors probably told him everything while we were knocked out."
"Mom, Dad, I hurt my leg," Junko complained. "I might not be able to run for a while."
"Oh, that's quite all right, baby, don't worry. Just heal and get better. Then come out and see the new Japan. It's so wonderful! They're already building strange things like "McDonalds" and "Starbucks". Also, the black market became a legitimate shopping mall! Isn't that great? Now you can keep buying those Nikes that make you seem to go faster, not those cruddy domestic shoes," Mrs. Mizuboshi gushed on and on about democracy. "I'm in an eternal debt to the Americans for doing this. And after decades of them being portrayed as the villain, too! Imagine that they would help us in the end!"
After jubilant talk between the children and the adults, a doctor came in.
"Oh...sorry to interrupt anything. Um, the two girls can go now. They don't have to be treated for anything else. We'll just give them some sample packs of antibiotics and send them on their merry way." The two girls struggled to get out of their hospital beds, then noticed they were still in their grimy, dirty, bloodied school uniforms.
"We'll have to take you three shopping," Mrs. Mizuboshi pointed out. The girls perked up. Shizuka noted that her Chuck Taylors were so muddy and wet that they hardly looked like the pretty, shiny, clean black pair she purchased from a girl with three different hair colors so long ago. It seemed mind-boggling that now she could buy the same shoes without the risk of being arrested or killed. Of course she wanted to go, get out of the hospital, even though she had the pain of a migraine headache pounding in her head.
69
The fire crackled as someone threw in an eighth-grade world history book. Shizuka hurled her art history book in the growing bonfire, the art book being thrown in because it only praised Japanese art and not American art. A gigantic seventh-grade literature book made the fire's flames lick higher up in the sky. It was December, almost the end of term, and the students of Kitagawa Jr. High were burning their old propagandistic textbooks. New textbooks were slated to come over holiday break. Exams were canceled and the students couldn't be any more delirious with excitement, as a vacation without the stress of awaiting exam results was right around the corner. The smell of burning plastic and paper permeated the air as the kids saw the high school bonfires growing larger and larger. The entire city of Kobe turned just a few simple bonfires into a full-out matsuri, with food available from small stands and games for the little kids after they threw in their books praising Mommy, Daddy and the Dictator.
"Isn't it great?" Junko asked, eating some almonds coated in cinnamon and sugar. She took out her bookbag and threw her history book into the flames. "I feel so free. I always knew there was a world outside of this country but never knew how to get there or see it." The kids were awaiting a brand-new subject which was forbidden before Japan's liberation--learning English. Authentic English speakers were even going to teach the class, something the kids never heard of before. Junko shivered. The weather was getting much colder and someone predicted snow would be coming very soon.
Shizuka threw her algebra book in. Yes, even math books found ways to be propagandistic. In fact, the staff of the school were even throwing in their teacher's editions because those also praised a nonexistant Dictator. Once the supply of propaganda textbooks ran dry, people began burning other propagandistic items. The fire burned on almost all night long.
Shizuka and Kiyoharu sat by a stand selling okonomiyaki. Shizuka was eating a shish kabob, then she swallowed a bite of chicken and began to talk.
"You know..." she began. "I found out the location of that Program cemetery. It's in Sapporo. Once I turn 15 I could get a holiday part-time job to pay for train tickets and the three of us could go up there. Junko's been wanting to since the Program ended."
"No need to even stress over getting a job, Shizuka," Kiyoharu replied. "I'm sure we could get our parents to let us go. It's a good purpose, right? We're not going up to Sapporo to get drunk or anything." Shizuka giggled and had to point the shish kabob away from her eyes so she wouldn't have an accident.
"You know, I still can't get over the fact that our whole class is dead. I don't think I'll ever be able to. I'm going to cry so much when the yearbook comes out." After the three returned to school, they were sorted into class 3-B, then renamed class 3-B 3-A because they needed a new 3-A. The 3-B kids gave the three an incredibly hard time when they first transferred in, referring to them as the zombies and asking how many kids they killed all the time, even though the three were probably the only players that didn't kill everyone in sight. Shizuka's eyes got misty at this thought, the thought of the yearbook reflecting a happy, full class 3-A even though 27 of the kids no longer existed.
"Hey..." Kiyoharu hugged her. "It's gonna hurt for a while, a long time, but part of living is moving on and accepting, right? I think Junko is just now starting to come to terms with Masao's death. It really broke her inside, didn't it? She still has the paper she showed me in the hospital."
"I guess you're right. Which reminds me, are you going to take any entrance exams?"
"Yeah, just to the public high schools, though. I don't want to burden my parents by making them pay tuitions."
"I'm doing that, too. I really hope we can get into the same school."
"Shizuka, don't you know that entrance exam woes only start coming up in March? It's way too early for this talk. Besides, both your birthday and Christmas are soon. Aren't you usually more joyful around this time of year?"
"Last year I wasn't because of the stepdad, but the greatest birthday and Christmas presents I could ever get are the presents of freedom. Freedom from an abusive family member and freedom from the iron claws of a dictatorship. Sure, money, my learner's license and other assorted gifts would also be great, but freedom has to be the best one I've gotten this year." Shizuka leaned her head on Kiyoharu's shoulder. "Maybe someday we can truly be normal schoolkids again?"
"That's a good thought," Kiyoharu replied as the two watched the bonfires burning on and on.
70
The day after Christmas, the three got on a train bound from Kobe to Sapporo. It was going to be a long ride, so everyone made sure to pack their CDs. Amazing new Japanese rock bands were starting to come out of the bomb shelter "arenas" and get signed to major labels, so there was an assortment of English and American rock/punk and Japanese rock in the CD collections of the entire trio. Shizuka locked away her old copy of 1984 in a fishing tackle box, because now she had a shiny new legitimately translated copy. Even though a cloud of gloom hung over the trio because they weren't going to Sapporo to have fun, they decided to make the best of the trip up there. Junko talked about a boy in 3-B, ending every sentence about him with, "I don't know..." She remembered exactly what Masao told her, "do it for the one who fell through the cracks". And she held a bouquet of mixed-color roses in her hand the entire train ride.
It was already snowing in Sapporo. Everyone was walking around hidden under layer after layer of clothing, and here came these three kids wearing only two layers of clothes. Although they were cold, they made the best of it. They walked around downtown Sapporo, asking passers-by if they knew where the Program cemetery was. A lot of people were dumbfounded but eventually a nice old man in a ramen shop told them the exact location. Kiyoharu thanked her profusely, then asked how he knew where it was when it seemed nobody else did.
"My grandson was in the Program," the old man replied sadly. "The one that just ended a month ago, you know?" He squinted at the three again. "Wait a minute, you look kind of like the three children I saw on the news! Did you know my grandson?"
"Who was your grandson?" Junko asked.
"His name was Toru Niimura. He also had a sister, Kanako. Did you know them?" The three exchanged nods. "Do you think they're in a better place now?" The man looked over at a small corner behind the counter, where framed school pictures of Toru, Kanako and a picture of an old woman dressed in a full kimono were surrounded by candles and incense.
"I know they're in a better place now, sir," Shizuka replied. Junko and Kiyoharu nodded in agreement.
"Please, could you take these to their graves?" The man retrieved some flowers from behind the counter. "Thank you so much. When you're done, come back here and feel free to order ramen...on the house."
With the bouquets for Masao, Toru and Kanako in hand, the three went straight for the Program cemetery. It was in a deserted field outside of town and the graves were tipped with snow. Other parents and children were also there, either walking through the rows looking for someone or mourning at someone's grave.
"Over there..." Junko pointed to a row of older-looking graves. "...are the graves for the first Programs, all the way up to the 1970s. Over here..." She pointed to a row of newer-looking graves. "...are the graves for the second batch of Programs, all the way up to 2003. I suppose we go to the newest ones?" Shizuka and Kiyoharu noticed tears forming in her eyes already as she walked through the snow, looking for Masao's grave. Finally, she found it. She got down on her knees in front of it and placed the roses in a slot on the grave just for flowers or incense.
"I've missed you every day," she told the grave as Kiyoharu and Shizuka looked on. "Not a single day goes by when I don't think of you, Masao, and I really do think I loved you, too." She sniffled, then decided what the hell and began to cry. "I hope you're in a better place now, no, I'm sure you are. But I've got one question to ask you." Sniffle. "Are Tetsuko and Sakura still whores or what?"
Shizuka broke down and began to sob, too. Then she whispered for Kiyoharu to go over there and hug Junko.
"But, but I'm with you..."
"Just do it. She needs one right now."
"But..."
"Look, Kiyoharu, I'm on my period right now and I'm as emotionally charged as they come, but I am also fierce and violent when I'm on the rag. Now go over there and hug her like I'm going to take a picture and get it published on a greeting card, okay? I'll go put the roses on the Niimura graves." Kiyoharu obeyed and smothered Junko in a hug as Shizuka walked off to look for the Niimura graves.
"Kiyo...haru? You're hugging m-m-me?"
"Of course. You're my friend, aren't you, and friends can hug each other without feeling any romantic feelings inside. Besides, you definitely need it. I miss Masao too, he was a great friend and just all around an awesome guy to be with." He looked at the roses, which Junko didn't unwrap from their floral bag. "Here, I'll unwrap these for you. Someone who tends this graveyard will fill it with water when it's not freezing every day." He delicately took the flowers out from their bag and placed them in the holder, only getting pricked by thorns three times.
"Thanks, Kiyoharu," Junko said gratefully. "But hey, do you suppose he never got the courage to tell me?"
"Tell you...how he felt?"
"Yeah."
"That's the thing about guys." He helped Junko to her feet. "We bottle up things. We fear rejection probably more than you girls do, so we bottle up how we truly feel inside and try to mask it. But eventually, the bottle breaks and the mask falls off. Masao, in my opinion, couldn't have chosen a better time to confess. Shizuka confessed to me during the Program, too."
"I suppose the fact that you could die at any moment arouses some kind of emotion inside?" Junko tried to shrug that off with a 'heh'.
"Probably so," Shizuka butted in, having placed the roses on both graves. "I want to be a psychologist someday so I can figure out these things." The three looked to the sky, snowflakes falling and resting on their rosy cheeks. They sighed, thinking about how 27 of their peers were now up there, beyond the clouds, then cast one last look at the graves before leaving the graveyard. They acted on Mr. Niimura's promise of ramen and had a meal, then took the train bound for Kobe back home.