Chapter 10
Nothing.
Weary air escaped my lips. Instinctively, I checked the time.
3:33 PM.
I'd only been in the library for thirty-three minutes. After arriving, I made sure to scour every detail of the commemoration note. Normally, my pace is faster than fifteen words a minute. Much, much faster. However, I was desperate for any more evidence; something to convince Tomoya my research was worth the effort.
I hadn't found it.
As soon as I realized the article bore no commentary on the incident, I sifted through countless periodicals in the school library for information. The pecan walls and silent atmosphere ensured I could do my research in silence.
I scarcely found a single column I hadn't read. There were only three I hadn't seen before, and only one featured any useful information.
I was ecstatic to find the article commented on a suspicious happening at my parents' research group. During the mourning period, while other local rags somberly relayed the details of the crash, "Enthusiasts for Science" discussed a change in management at the organization in their Community column.
Written by "Dr. Hikaru Isogaii", the article explained how Hideki Hiromu, Ph.D in Physics, gained executive control over the endeavor. My eyes honed in on one paragraph in particular:
None in the group would doubt Dr. Hiromu's credentials. However, Dr. Kariya Hunan stated she felt Dr. Hiromu used his close ties to the Ichinoses to justify his promotion, rather than his leadership skills, or understanding of the research. Other members of the organization, including Dr. Hiromu himself, refused to comment on this claim.
Nothing concrete, but it was the most interesting information I'd seen so far.
I don't know if Tomoya would see any value in this . . . But I have to try.
I jotted down citation information on a piece of note book paper and stuck it in my olive binder. After packing my backpack, I left from the library.
Slipping through the school's main exit, I breathed in the air. A mixture of the last bit of pollen flaking from trees, and violet-colored flowers blooming in the school's front garden. Despite the scent from the flowers, the pollen triggered my allergies. I sneezed and rubbed my nose before continuing.
I strolled down the sidewalk next to the school. At this speed, I'd be home in eighteen minutes and 33 seconds, provided I only stopped twice. I'd decided to figure this out early in fourth grade after realizing how quickly I finished my homework; the longest I ever took on an assignment was seventy-five minutes.
Of course, even though I'd worked my hardest, I was never unemotional. Many kids saw me as an aloof overachiever and taunted me for being so, but I was always aware of my emotional state. I knew when I felt sad, unworthy, disappointed, joyful.
The only time I felt the last one was with my parents.
Before I met Kanna, I had no friends in school. At best, people saw me as a guide to learning how different aspects of math and science worked. But, even then, I often found it difficult to articulate my ideas, and people stopped coming to me for that advice about half-way through fourth grade.
More often, the confident girls would chide me for how quiet I was. Occasionally, I tried to defend myself, but I usually didn't bother. When I stayed quiet after one girl called me a nerd, she slapped me in the face to get my attention.
Sometimes, this would go unnoticed by people. Other times, a teacher would find out, and punish the kid for bullying me. This only made me more loathed.
Outside of textbooks, I felt lost and alone at school. But when I got home and found myself sobbing about some girl who'd called me ugly, my parents would always find a way to calm me down.
My Dad was often in his study, but he usually spared a minute to talk to me.
He'd tell me some silly story about his high school days, how he dealt with bullies by "socking them in the jaw"; I wasn't sure whether I was impressed or appalled by his way of dealing with adversity. More often, I was surprised; it was easy for me to forget my Dad's physical prowess later helped him earn a spot at his university's soccer team.
After he had finished telling his tale, he'd reassure me that all people had meaning. He said, "If we spend our whole lives asking other people how we should act, or who we should be, we never amount to anything." He admitted there were times he felt like giving up; times where he felt like studying wasn't worth it if it meant people teased him
"But then I realized something," His fingers would curl around his chin, his handsome eyes resting on the wall directly across from my bed. "There is not a single person who's done the right thing and hasn't suffered for it."
To an eight, soon to be nine year old mind, this confused me when he first said it. When he saw how bewildered I looked, he continued.
"It's hard to do the right thing; sometimes, people will say you're acting foolish, or that you're missing out on the fun in life. But Kotomi-chan, doing the right thing is always better in the long-term. It makes you smarter, wiser, and most importantly,"
He touched my heart. "A better person,"
"You're a good girl, Kotomi; don't let anyone make you think you need to change your looks, what you wear, or how smart you are to be who you are."
If tears were in my eyes before he started, they would have been wiped away. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he brushed his hand through my hair. He'd ask me if I'd like a glass of milk, some cookies, or those teddy-shape graham crackers. No matter what he offered, I'd always say yes.
"And no matter how bad I felt," I whispered, refusing to take another step. "I always felt . . . Better."
A tear stained my right cheek. Another trickled out my left eye. For a moment, I forced myself to keep walking.
I always felt better.
My foot tripped, knocking me onto the ground. On my knees, I stared at the pavement.
When I came home, he always . . .
Tears bit into the corners of my eyes. I felt like they were being swelled shut, only a sliver of their purple-color being visible.
"But he's gone . . . He's gone . . . "
I slammed my fist on the ground, wailing as loud as I could.
"He's gone!"
My face dropped against the pavement. I ignored the pain in my knees; my cries consumed me completely.
I'll never be me . . . He's all that kept me awake . . . How . . . How can I live now?
I lifted my face, hair swept across my face. My bangs struck against my eye lids, pushing more drops from me.
There's nothing to live for . . . Nothing . . . Nothing!
"Kotomi!"
A hazy figure appeared in front of me, blotched in mist. I could barely see who it was; he looked a bit taller than me, but I couldn't tell who he was.
His coat . . . I've seen it before.
"Are you alright? Kotomi, speak to me!"
"Kotomi-!"