Chapter 2: Darkness on the Edge of Town.
I viewed school the next day as simply a chore that needed to be completed before I could play Space Invaders again. The game was the only thing in my young life that I looked forward to. So with a pocket full of yen and blessings and encouragement from my respected brother, you can imagine the amount of pure excitement I was experiencing. But nothing ever good happened at school.
I wasn't the only one who regularly played Space Invaders. Since it was the first arcade game to be released in our town, it is understandable that it became a popular place for young people to meet, compete and test their playing skills. The cinemas were also a popular location to waste away a person's after-school hours, but they were more expensive, and weren't interactive in a group setting.
So when I placed first in the crude arcade game, my achievement definitely didn't go unnoticed. One would think that others would congratulate me, and that I would be some kind of school yard legend, but back then, my life never went according to plan. There was a small group of boys in a few grades above me that were notorious for hopelessly failing their school subjects. Yet to make up for the amount of respect they had lost in the academic world, they regained some control in their lives by terrorizing and striking fear into other students. Yes, in many movies and television shows, there is always a bully or group of bullies being depicted in the typical playground scene. It wasn't until my teenage years when I realized that this image was generally considered to be stereotypical and cliché, as my school actually had them.
In an odd way, those boys had indeed gained the respect they had desired within the school. Some children even wanted to be like them, if only to avoid the undue pain caused if they were to oppose them. Just like any other, I used to loathe these older, uncouth boys, but now in hindsight, I understand why they resorted to bullying. It's all about reputation and respect.
"Oroku-kun!" One of the boys called to me. They knew my family name because of my brother. I should have just kept walking, but stupidly I stopped out of nervousness. I was alone at the time, as lunch had just started and I hadn't found my friends out in the school yard just yet.
"Yes?" I replied. For a brief moment I was ignorant enough to believe that they had stopped me for completely innocent reasons, like they wanted directions or the time.
"I saw your high score on Space Invaders," the leader of the gang spoke. He was only twelve-years-old, but to me, that boy was so tall and strong, that I might as well have considered him to be an adult. "It's pretty impressive," he slyly spoke. Slowly the group moved forwards, little by little, so that before I knew it, I had backed inadvertently into a wall. They continued to close in, so soon I had no way to escape.
I was confused. Were they congratulating me? Or were they jealous? "Thank you," I bowed deeply, hoping that my politeness would get me out of trouble. It rarely ever does.
"Too bad you knocked out Takeshi-san's ranking," the leader glowered, pointing to one of his friends. I glanced at Takeshi, and trust me, he didn't look that happy either; least of all proud of my achievement.
"I'm sorry," I apologetically bowed again.
"So now we just have to beat your score," the leader said. That was when I realized that they weren't jealous, but rather embarrassed. They didn't want a ten-year-old's name plastered all over their favorite place to hang out. Just like me, they didn't want to be viewed as a failure, even if it was just a game. "Are you going to play Space Invaders this afternoon?" the tall boy cruelly asked.
"Maybe," I foolishly responded. I wasn't entirely sure what they were planning.
"Well, since you knocked off Takeshi's high score, and now he has to gain it back, I think it's only fair that you pay for the inconvenience," the leader spoke, probably imitating his favorite movie gangster. The boys closed in quickly and grabbed my arms.
"My brother is a member of The Foot!" I threatened them. When I was young, that line was always my one and only defense. Most of the time it worked and people stopped bothering me. Yet unfortunately for me, I had already given this empty threat to these boys before in my life, and this time they knew that there would be no consequences for their actions. So chuckling at my words, two of the boys pinned me up against the wall, while the leader ravaged my pockets, yanking out those precious coins that my brother had kindly donated. "Give it back!" I pathetically squealed. Getting bold I started to kick and buck, managing to hit one of the boys in the shin. Big mistake.
"Why'd you have to do that!" hissed the boy I had kicked. He retaliated by slapping me upside the head.
"Give me my money back!" I yelled at them, not giving up. Normally I wouldn't have really cared. But this money was my brother's, and I didn't want to disappoint him by losing his gift to immature thugs. It was the principle of the matter.
"Shut up!" the leader said while he looked up the corridor, fearful that a teacher might hear the commotion.
"Give it back!" I bucked my legs again while in their strong grasp. I only succeeded in irritating the leader. He grabbed the back of my head, threading his fingers through my fine, black hair. Painfully tugging on my head as though I was some mutt on a leash, the other boys let go of my arms and forced me to step away from the wall. It wasn't clear what happened next. All I remember is being pulled and pushed down that seemingly endless school corridor. My head ached as my hair was sharply tugged and rustled. Next I saw that I was in the bathroom. With some difficulty, all the boys grabbed onto a section of my legs and some of my waist, successfully lifting me up above the ground. I yelped out of shock as they forcefully carried me into a vacant cubicle and dipped my head into the toilet bowl.
I didn't have time to complain or to feel completely disgusted with what they were doing to me. I only had time to hold my breath before my forehead and eyes were submerged in the toilet water. I growled at their horrible antics and my hands gripped the sides of the bowl. They tried to hold my head down, but I pushed against the toilet with my hands. I wasn't scared anymore. Rather I was pissed off. Since I was positioned so much lower than them - with me kneeling in front of the toilet, while they were still standing over me - I eventually wiggled out of their grip and tackled the nearest set of legs I could find. That was another thing I shouldn't have done, as now they were angry as well. Being so low to the ground, it was just too easy for them to kick me in the ribs. I howled, and, blinded with pain and anger, I reached up, hoping to whack one of them in the head. But I was too slow.
The next thing I knew, my left eye was throbbing in agony. I hissed and put my hands to my face while my body sank back to the cold, tiled floor. They had punched me. I tried to open my eye, but at that moment it was just too painful. The bullies hurriedly thudded out of the bathroom, obviously not wanting to get caught in the act for what they had done. But they didn't have anything to fear. I was too embarrassed and emotionally devastated to report the incident to a teacher.
I stayed there, cuddled up in the cubicle, until lunch time was over. I just lacked the will power to get up and move. I was also waiting for my hair to dry. When the school bell rang, I groggily stood up; allowing blood to pump back into my pins-and-needles infested legs. Looking in the bathroom mirror, I remember being surprised that I wasn't worse for wear. I didn't have a black eye, as I had feared. Rather I just had a small, red graze just under the socket. Naturally it was tender to touch. Only one person commented on it later on in the school day, where I just had to make up some lame excuse about falling over or walking into a door or something. A part of me was beyond caring about what they thought of me. After all, I had just had my head dunked into a toilet. If my father thought that playing Space Invaders was degrading, I couldn't comprehend what he'd think in response to this.
Luckily I never had to tell him the story. He simply never noticed. At dinner I made sure I kept my head down, I didn't contribute to the conversation, and I ate my food quickly so I could be excused from the table. I stayed in my room for the rest of the night. I thought I would have gotten away with it, but that was until I heard a knock at my door. "I'm studying!" I called out, hoping to deter them from entering.
There was a pause. Then my bedroom door was slid open regardless of what I had said. "Knew you weren't studying," Nagi said when he saw me sitting at the end of my bed. Silently he turned back around and closed my bedroom door, acting as though he wanted a private conversation. "So who punched you?" he asked once he had secured the room.
I was surprised. "How did you know?" There was no point trying to deny it.
"The shape and position of that red mark; the bruising. It's typical of being punched," Nagi analyzed.
I wanted to cry as I felt so ashamed of myself, but like most times I held it back. Instead I studied my brother's expression. He wasn't angry and intrusive. He was just concerned about my well being, just like a brother should be. How could I lie to him when he cared so much for me? "I was beat up at school today. They took the money you gave me, so they could play that game for themselves."
"Who's 'they'?" Nagi wondered. Personally I was expecting him to be more worried about the missing yen, but it seemed that I still had a lot to learn about my brother.
"This group of twelve-year-olds a few grades above me. They're the bullies of my school," I grumbled, feeling bitter about the situation. "They were angry with me because I wiped over one of their scores when I gained first place in Space Invaders," I gave a full explanation.
"Why didn't you just inform your teacher?" my brother wondered.
"Because other kids report these bullies all the time. The teachers tell off the bullies, but then they just hold a grudge and get you back the next day at lunch time," I sighed. To me the situation just seemed hopeless.
"I see," Nagi said. "So they took your money?" Nagi inquired, making sure he was clear with all the facts.
"Yes. I'm sorry," I mumbled. I couldn't even look Nagi in the eyes.
"Don't be sorry. It's not your fault. Besides, it's only money. I can give you some more later in the week," Nagi said as he sat beside me.
"But what about the bullies?" I asked, fearing that the whole sequence of events would only repeat itself.
"What did I say to you last night?" Nagi started to test me.
"That no one should get in the way of something that I enjoy doing?" I thoughtfully answered back, though I wasn't certain that my words were correct. Nagi gave me a nod and one of his warm smiles.
"Exactly. So next time those bullies bother you, just stand up to them." I frowned, as I was sure that Nagi's advice was flawed.
"But they're so much bigger than me! Can't you just find out where they live and scare them for me?" I asked, thinking that was the simplest solution. Nagi shook his head.
"I can't solve your problems all the time. Sometimes you just have to stick up for yourself. It may sound harsh now, but you'll thank me later in life when you will be able to stand up and deal with any problem that gets thrown your way," Nagi kindly lectured. Whenever my brother spoke to me, he used an unusual tone of voice, where although he might be telling me off, or trying to drill an idea into my head, he made it sound like he was doing me a favor. He made me want to listen, unlike my father who just bellowed out profanities as an attempt to intimidate me.
"But what if they bash me again? It's just game. I don't think it's worth it." As convincing as my brother sounded, the tender skin around my eye that ached whenever I blinked, made me feel defeated and worthless.
"I know it's just a game. But it's also your reputation on the line. In life, you can't let people treat you this way. If you let these bullies act this way around you, then they will just continue to do it. The only way they will stop bullying you is if you make it not worth their while," Nagi explained.
"But how?" I was confused. "Are you going to give me a weapon?" I wondered. Being a member of The Foot, Nagi naturally kept many weapons; most of them being housed in his bedroom. I was never allowed to handle them without his permission, otherwise my father would punish me severely. So instead I would sometimes stand just outside of his bedroom, poke my head in, and simply admire the shiny, well-kept weapons that were neatly lined up on shelves along one wall of the room. I liked the blade of his oriental katana the best.
Nagi raised his eyebrows, seeming to be surprised by the suggestion. "A weapon? No, no, no. That'll just get you into trouble!"
"But if a had a weapon in my hands, then they'll get scared and they'll run away." I was such a simpleton. It was no wonder that my brother was worried.
"Saki, your mind and body is a weapon," Nagi calmly told me. He interlocked his fingers and lowered his head deep in thought. I waited patiently for him to come up with a solution. "Well, since you don't want to tell your teacher… then I guess I'll have to teach you a few fighting moves," Nagi offered.
"So I can beat them?"
"No, but rather so you can show off a few moves to make them think twice about hurting Ninjitsu Master Oroku Saki!" Nagi grinned. I smiled at the title he gave me. My brother leapt off the bed and cleared some floor space in my room. Grateful for the amount of time he was spending on me, I excitedly got up and stood beside him. I followed his every movement as he went through the basic punches and kicks of ninjitsu. Either he was a good teacher, or I was simply a natural, but either way Nagi was proud of me.
My brother gave me more than most people had ever had, and that was hope. With his strength and encouragement, I faced school the next day not with fear, shame or resentment, but with contentment about the fact that I now had a secret weapon, and that was myself.
"Got any money for Space Invaders?" As I had expected, the bullies did approach me again, this time at recess.
"No," I answered truthfully before continuing to walk on. Although I was desperate to play the arcade game, Nagi had convinced me that it would be wise to wait a few days before bringing money to school again. He didn't seem to have much to spare anyway, because today he needed the yen so he could buy a present for his girlfriend. While a normal person may have been annoyed by the fact that their brother was spending the money on someone else, after all that Nagi had done for me the night before, I couldn't ask for anything more from him.
"Yeah right," the leader snorted in disbelief. As if that was their cue, the group of older boys rushed towards me. But I was prepared for this. I quickly whipped around to face them, readied my stance, raised my arms and clenched my fists. The boys halted, hesitating for a second. "What's this?" the leader uttered.
"My brother taught me a few moves last night," I boasted. To prove my point, I punched the air a few times before following up with a kick. Even though I had no hope of winning a fight against so many people, I covered my nervousness by putting on a brave face. Damn I wished I had a mask. "I don't have any money anyway," I added.
The leader warily looked at me for a few seconds, torn between either retreating and looking like a fool, or getting into a fight where they could all get hurt. Personally I think he remembered how much I struggled yesterday, and therefore if I was willing to put up a more decent fight today, then I really wasn't worth the effort, not when there were some fat geeks in the cafeteria that were easier sources of yen. "He doesn't have any yen," the leader finally muttered. "Lets go."
I just stood in amazement as the group of boys slowly walked off. I did it. I actually did it! Nagi was right – my mind and body was a powerful weapon. I was so exhilarated about my win, that at the end of the day, Space Invaders wasn't even on my mind. I even almost forgot that I had to visit The Foot's dojo after school. Tuesday was when Nagi had to wash his Foot uniform; it was just the way it was. But since he was working there on Wednesday, it was always my job to visit the dojo, pick up the outfit, and rush it home so that my mother could wash and dry it in time ready for tomorrow.
I remembered what day it was when I was halfway home. Usually I would walk directly to the dojo from school. It was too late to turn around and head back so I could take that route, so instead I decided to improvise by cutting across some streets and alleyways. I had a basic idea of where I was going. Just when some of the streets were beginning to feel familiar again, I stopped as I heard some scuffling. I don't know what I was thinking. I must have thought it was an injured animal or something, as the noise made me curious enough to investigate. I now wish I hadn't.
Standing at the entrance of an alleyway, I saw a man fumbling and groping a woman. Being young, I didn't quite know what to make of it. At that age I didn't even know exactly what rape was. I had heard the word, usually in conjunction with murder, and I knew it was bad, but I was ignorant back then and I thought that those forbidden acts were committed in Japan's larger cities. Not in my town. Bullies and occasional slaps from my father were one thing, but this was a full-blown assault. Effectively, this was the first serious crime I had ever witnessed. I couldn't even fully comprehend what the man was doing, let alone make a critical decision. Should I walk away? Was it even possible for me to ignore what I had seen? Do I run and get help, even though the next person I find might be just as reluctant as me? Or do I personally intervene?
Unfortunately I didn't have much of a choice. The woman saw me, standing at the end of the alley, just gawking, and in her helpless frame of mind she frantically called to me for help. The rapist stopped and stared at me; first he was scared, but when he noticed my age, his face quickly turned sinister. "Get lost, kid," he warned. I really should have listened to him. But for some reason my legs felt incredibly heavy, as though they had been planted in amongst the grooves of the cobblestones. I was too shocked to run.
Realizing that I wasn't going to leave, the man threw the woman down the floor and angrily started to approach me. Without thinking, I entered the fighting stance that my brother had taught me the night before. Looking back now, I realize how nervous I must have been. My feet were spread too far apart; my arms weren't raised high enough to effectively protect my face, and my fists were sloppy and weren't properly clenched. But after knowing how exciting it was to win a fight due to my success over the bullies, some unreasonable voice from deep within just wanted to be the hero.
I don't think the man even knew I was in a fighting stance. In my nervousness, I punched too early when the thug was just barely out of my range. My first missed, while my second just tapped his stomach. I went for the kick, but I was way too slow. He caught my leg with one hand, causing me to hopelessly hop in order to maintain my balance. The man then yanked me forward, causing me to slip and fall. Once on the ground, he hammered his large fist into my head. I screamed in pain. My cries only forced him to repeat the action. Before I blacked out, I remember making a vow to myself – that I should never help anyone ever again.