Lesson 2

I slipped into my daily routine without much trouble. A typical day would go like this: get up, work, eat whenever hungry, do a little musing here and there, work some more, find a remote place not bound to be disturbed, and go to sleep. It wasn't dull at all, especially with the sporadic bombshells life'd drop down on my head.

"Oi, be careful!"

The cart's handle jolted out of my grip. A back wheel collided with a giant bump on the road and fell off, pulling the whole side down with it. Two jugs of liquor tipped over and were about to come crashing down--had I not caught one with my shoulder and blocked the other with my left foot. Now, this scenario would be pretty darn amusing if we were in the audience of a circus performance. Unfortunately, I was not made out to be a professional weightlifter who could juggle extra-heavy objects and subsequently do a series of fancy tricks. All my efforts were poured into the sole purpose of maintaining balance. Imagine having two stone boulders dropped on you at the same time--even the slightest miscalculated movement could seriously injure your shoulder blade or shatter your ankle bones...or both.

"Would you...give me a hand?" I groaned loudly at the old man who was fidgeting nervously nearby. Was he too senile to see that I was in a --really-- tight spot?

"I can't! I have arthritis."

I heaved a sigh. Planting my right foot firmly on the ground, I mustered the rest of my strength to push the jug back into the cart with my left foot. As soon as it fell back in, the weight on my shoulder caused me to wobble. There wasn't a space left on the cart so I had to put it down. What an ordeal. My arms, shoulders and feet were awfully sore after it was over.

The old man peered over to check for damage on the jugs. One of them had a crack, so he placed it at an angle to prevent the slushing liquid inside from leaking out of the bad side.

"I'm going back to the store for assistance. You stay here and watch over the cart." He was visibly vexed.

Well, he wasn't the only one. Believe it or not, irritation was contagious. It spred around almost instantaneously. A vegetable vendor became agiated at a picky customer. Two men who were in a hurry bumped into each other and wasted even more time in stopping to curse at one another. Exasperated storeowners complained about the hot weather and yelled at the workers. Discontented workers swore at both the heat and their bosses. So far I haven't seen anyone who was able to maintain their full composure, much less being...happy. Bad temper was scorching harmony with its smoldering charcoals.

Ordinary people were blessed with a wide range of genuine emotions. So why was it that they chose not to be happy?

I couldn't help thinking those people were more miserable than me. Arrogant as it might sound, the idea of being apart from that bustling crowd of upsetting people was somehow...comforting. It contributed to the reason why I wasn't planning to get rid of the smile anytime soon. With my sword gone, my ideology crumbled, my emotions lost, the smile was my only identity--one that I had control over. For a messed up soul undergoing a fickle life, having a fixture of stability is critical.

Denial is bad, I know. But I needed something to hang on to. Something to tell me I was still worthy of value and shield me from depression. Wandering through life as a perpetually downcast, self-pitying automaton is the quickest pathway to La La Land.

The old man returned, red-faced and grumpier than before he left. Followed him was another hauler with a functional cartwheel.

"Start loading'em, boy! What are you smiling for?" snapped the old man.

I stiffled an amused chuckle. Been more then ten years, and this smile still left someone wondering.


The rain poured down around five in the afternoon. We had just managed to finish all the deliveries for the day and I was thankful to be inside, dry and clean, manning the store, instead of being outside, heaving a loaded cart out of the mud under that downpour. The owner and the old man who supervised the deliveries were also inside, enjoying a game of go.

As I had nothing better to do, I took several sheets of old newspapers that was saved for wrapping and folded them into paper boats. I made one big battleship and a few smaller lifeboats. Outside, the streets were deserted for the most part, save several occasional stragglers who didn't have their umbrellas dashing to find shelter. Squatting on the sidewalk, I let the ships go, one by one, onto the strong current created by the rain. The battleship followed the current straight down the gutter hole while the rest overturned and drowned. If there were someone to steer them, they might have fare better. Or not. I wouldn't know. But I knew enough that going through life without direction like those little papper boats was a bad idea. I too might be bound for shipwreck unless someone pointed out to me what I should be doing with my life. Yes you can argue that Himura-san suggested that I go on a journey blah blah blah and find my own blah blah blah. Except I'm not the introspective type, alright? So his blah blah made absolutely no sense to me. I was used to having someone else mapped out my life. This sudden overwhelming freedom terrified me (well it would if I were the type to keep in touch with my emotions). Left on my own, I had no idea what I should do. It was amazing that I wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere or dying from eating random poisonous mushroom.

As I was about to go back inside, a little girl wearing a big straw hat trotted up in front of the store. Poor kid was drenched and out of breath.

"Could you fill this with sake please?"

As she looked up when handing me the jug, I saw a blackeye. It wasn't new, but it was conspicuously visible so it must be recent. I took the jug and went to the back of the store, not liking it one bit.

"Who's this for?" I asked while handing the jug to her. She was really careful, taking it with both hands and hugging it close to her chest.

"My father."

I wondered if I should take back the liquor. But he'd beat her regardless. Drunk or not drunk, it was all the same.

"Hey" I gestured at my eye, "it'd hurt less if you massage it a little." I made rubbing motions in the air.

"I'll try that. Thanks Mister!" And off she went into the rain. I hoped the mean bastard won't beat her for at least a little while now that he'd gotten his liquor.

After that, I went back to pretending to dust the shelves so it didn't look like I was idling. In my head, I was counting away the minutes until closing time. There are sixty seconds in a minute which means there are thirty six hundred seconds in an hour. I lost count somewhere around twelve hundreds. I'll be honest; I didn't do well in academics even though Shishio-san had hired a tutor for me to make sure I was literate. But at least that put me ahead of the nine percent of the population who couldn't. Hah.

The door slided open.

"Welcome to..." I trailed off. It was the little girl from earlier. She had gotten a bloody nose in addition to the blackeye.

Bastard.

What happened was, she had tripped and broken the jug on the way home. The bloody nose was from her father who had punched her before sending her off --in the downpour-- to get his alcohol again.

When I went to refill the new jug, I didn't want to do it at all. Then my eyes fell on the bottle of rat poison that was kept on a separate cabinet. It'd be so easy, I thought, the scumbag would die before anyone could figure out anything. He'd never torment the poor kid again.

The memory of ten years ago hovered in my head. My adopted father who had smashed his bottle on my forehead...The so called family who had tormented me and wanted to kill me...I just wanted to live...I could bear with the cursing and the hauling and the beating, as long as they'd let me be...just being alive was enough for me...

I reached for the rat poison.

It would be justified, the Tenken's voice was floating in my head like a surreal phantom.

But the police might be able to trace it back. I could ruin the owner's business or even get him in jail. That'd be no good.

I closed my eyes. Every terrifying bloody moment of that night flooded my mind. The grotesque scenes grew clearer and the long repressed dangerous fear felt like it was about to erupt.

"What's taking you so long?" The owner's voice jolted me back to reality.

As he took the jug from me, I held my head down because the corners of my mouth were twitching. I couldn't put on a smile even if I tried.


Someone was waiting for me at the end of the day. When I received my week's wage and took my leave, the girl in red kimono was waiting for me outside the store with an umbrella in hand.

I had never had somebody waiting for me before.

"Good evening sir!"

Sir, sir, sir. Did I look that old to other people? "Please don't call me sir, I'm not even passed eighteen yet. My name is Soujiro."

"Well in that case, good evening, Soujiro-san!"

I was wondering why we're on a first-name basis so quickly, then it suddenly occured to me that I didn't give her my last name. It didn't matter, my last name was never really my own anyway.

"Good evening...umm...I'm sorry I didn't get your name."

"It's Akairi."

No last name either? "Just Akairi?"

"Just Akairi."

Red light. Unusual, but anyway, "It suits you."

Akairi smiles. She seems like someone who gives out her smiles freely.

"Get under." She held her umbrella toward me. It was a simple act, so simple people do it all the time.

And yet all that time I've been left out in the rain, no one had ever offered to share an umbrella with me before.

I just stood there dumbstruck, while Akairi kept holding her umbrella toward me. She herself was getting wet.

"What's wrong Soujiro-san?"

"Nothing." I got over my zoning out and got under. "I'll hold this." I mumbled and grabbed the handle because I thought that was what boys are supposed to do--at least from what I observed from Shishio-san and Yumi-san. The good thing was that she let me, otherwise it'd be awkward on my part. Then we walked together, though I had no idea what our destination would be. We just kept walking. I had never walked with a girl before.

I know that I've been repeating 'I had never' a lot. But it was the truth, these sort of things had never happened to me before. It was all new to me. This was probably what Chou and Kamatari meant by 'you need to get out more'.

"Do you like your new job?"

"I guess, but why do you ask?"

"I hope you're doing alright. It's a tough job." I noted that she looked at me in the eyes while speaking. Most girls don't do that. They'd either blush and hide their faces behind their kimono sleeves in proper humility or choose not to strike up a conversation in the first place. Her boldness intrigued me.

"How does it feel like to get your first salary?"

That caught me off guard. She just came because she wanted her ten percent, didn't she?

"Okay." I said curtly. Then I went, "How much do you want?"

"How much did you get?"

I was getting annoyed with her prying. "Eight thousand yen."

Akairi looked thoughtful, "Eight thousand yen, huh." And she turned to me, "Where are you sleeping anyway?"

Caught off guard second time. This girl was so unpredictable you'd have no way of guessing what was in her head.

"Under bridges. Or on market stalls...if I don't get caught." The thought that I'd have to sleep in the rain tonight was very much discomforting.

Akairi looked at me like I said something really absurd, "How about under a roof? With futon and blanket and pillow?"

Before I opened my mouth, she went on, "A deposit at the boarding house I'm renting is five thousand yen. Monthly rent is eight thousand fifty. Since today's past the collecting date you'll have a little over three weeks to save up that much."

That sounded reasonable. I couldn't even recall the last time I slept on a futon with blanket and pillow.

"What about your ten percent?"

Akairi just winked at me, "Keep it. You can buy me something later."


So the good news was that I wasn't going to sleep under the rain that night. But apparently somebody else was. When we arrived at a third rate boarding house, I caught sight of the brat who gambled his mom's money stalking the building. I noticed him first, hidden in shadows, but Akairi was the one who cared enough to go over and talk to him. Meanwhile, I sat on the stone steps, waiting.

"...I can't go in there, Mama's going to murder me!"

"Where would you go?"

The boy shook his head and turned around--away from the boarding house.

"Want to know what happens if you leave?" Not waiting for an answer, Akairi went on, "You'd be starved by tomorrow night. So famished you'd do anything for a scrap of food. What would you do?"

"I'll starved to death then, so Mama'd be happy." The boy let out a bitter scoff.

"I bet you wouldn't?"

"Well, I'll work then, run some errands around the marketplace. It doesn't pay much, but I'll get by."

"Can you haul?"

"I sure as hell can. She always had me carrying fish until my arms fall off the sockets!"

"Not fish. Think giant barrels, liquor jugs or rice sacks." At this point Akairi jerked her head in my direction and I gave a little confirmation nod.

The boy groaned in frustration, "Do I look like a slave to you? Only slaves can haul that stuff!" A little while later, he attempted a last suggestion, "Hey, remember that guy, the landlady's good for nothing nephew? One time he lifted from an inn and the money got him set for a week..."

"...but was caught next time and they beat him until his skull cracked."

"Don't you know of any other jobs?" He was almost begging now.

"There is...prostitution."

The boy's now gray face resembled a dead fish. God knows what horrendous images floating about his poor head as Akairi plunged into further sordid details of sexually transmitted diseases, depression, suicide, mental illness, bloody "accidents" involving lunatic perverts weilding swords and other things one should NEVER EVER mention to a kid, lest him be scarred for life.

"Your Mama is the only one who gives you things with no price attached. Mistakes, they can be fixed with sincerity. If you still want to leave, go ahead."

I was relieved it was finally over. Her sex talk was gruesome.

As for the boy, every bits of his determination was blown away after Akairi had thoroughly scared him out of his skin. He had no other choice but to go inside and thereby hopefully avoid the horrifying monsters lurking in the dark corners of life.

Akairi was a born speaker. She had talked the liquor store owner into hiring me, talked the boy out of running away, talked the mom into taking him in and refrain from using violence on him (something about abused children were more likely to grow up to become criminals--I was glad she didn't jerk her head in my direction and used me as an example again), and talked the landlady into giving me the least bug-infested futon because I just looked like a sweet boy who wouldn't skip his rent. It seemed like she hit all the right nerves, reading their faces as she spoke to people. I couldn't do that. I mean, I could sense fear, and arrogance and that sort of things from my enemies, but not ordinary emotions--the subtext of the conversation.

"Good night, Soujiro-san", said Akairi as I was walking upstairs to my room, with a bundle of futon, blanket and pillow in hand.

"Good night, Akairi-san. Thank you..." I ran through the list in my mind: for finding me a job? waiting for me? getting me a place to live? "...thank you for everything."

"You're welcome, Soujiro-san."

Outside the rain was still falling. But not on me. Not tonight. And that, I thought, was a good start.