3: Hatsukoi: First Love

***Shopping Trip***

On the night of the 28th of May, I received troublesome news from Mion. Apparently, one of the agents who followed her around on the weekend had seen her in the library with me. Mion had begged him not to tell anyone, but the loyal Sonozaki refused. It was ten at night and I had just finished showering when my twin called me. I listened to the news through the phone in my new bedroom, where I relaxed on the western-style bed.

"Grandma is furious!" Mion exclaimed in a frightened voice. "She's told everyone to bring you to her when they see you!"

"Ooh, how scary," I said in a sarcastic, feminine tone. "Let me know if you hear anything else. If things get really bad, I can always just leave town."

Honestly, I didn't care. There was the nothing the Hag could do to me that would make me bow to her. I could fight back now. I had outgrown my fear of her. Or that's what I thought anyway, as I dried the bathwater off my smooth legs. Even if I left town, I could just wait until I was eighteen, return to Hinamizawa, and as an adult, get police protection from my threatening family members.

Mion made up for my carelessness with her eternal sincerity. "It's not fair," she said genuinely. "It's not fair to make you alone live like this, Shion."

As if she would take a stand to stop it, though, I thought. "Thanks for your concern," was all I said.

"Just tell me whenever you want to go outside. I'll keep helping. You can be Mion whenever you want."

I was almost at the point where I didn't think it would do much good to keep up the act of pretending to be my sister in public. It involved coordinating our schedules, which meant Mion was on the phone with me a lot, and the family would probably have gotten a clue by now. They weren't going to be fooled by my clever trick much longer. On the other hand, going out as Mion one more time might not help my position, but it also wouldn't hurt anything. I wanted to pick up some groceries tomorrow, since I was still just settling in to Kasai's spare apartment.

"Your help would be great," I told Mion cheerfully. "I'm probably going to lay low for a while, but I'll need to go out and get some supplies first."

My generous sister agreed to let me play her for the day. She would go to school and then rush back home to hide at the main estate. I would dress identically to her and appear in the afternoon to go shopping at the main market in Hinamizawa. By sunset, I would have all my groceries and be on my way home. Then Mion could report to the Hag that she had been in town all afternoon. It seemed like a perfect plan.

Well, beautiful plans go wrong because of the tiniest annoyances. Everything was fine until I staggered outside the grocery store trying to carry four or five very heavy bags at once. I passed by a line of motorcycles that were illegally parked right in front of the store. One of my bags caught on the extended exhaust pipe of a bike, and it ripped open, spilling food and spices all over the pavement.

Screaming some very unladylike slang, I took my free hand and punched the side of one of the bikes. It fell. The whole line of them fell. One motorcycle knocked over the next, which knocked over the next, and suddenly I realized I was in trouble.

Before I knew what was happening, the three motorcyclists appeared in a fit of heavily accented cursing and swearing. One of them grabbed my shoulder and dragged me a few yards away to a small vacant lot between two houses. The other two followed. I shook their hands off me and backed up against one of the walls, apologizing profusely and trying my best to understand what the angered men were saying. They had dull-looking faces, ridiculous haircuts styled with grease, and they wore entirely black outfits. They were trying so hard to push the "biker thug" image that I just wanted to laugh at them. Nevertheless, they were all a lot taller and heavier than me, and surrounding me as if to attack.

I honestly couldn't understand them, but they looked threatening. Behind my back, I pulled out my Taser. This handy weapon had been picked off of one of St. Lucia's security guards shortly before my escape. I felt better having it with me, but I hesitated, wondering if the bikers really deserved the high voltage I planned to give them. It was at that moment when someone came along and changed my life.

"Oy!" shouted a boy, standing on the street at the edge of the narrow vacant lot. "Stop it!"

***Chance Meeting***

The first thing I noticed about the boy were his eyes. They were a unique shade of deep brownish-red that almost looked purple in the right light. Though his face was gentle, almost feminine, the expression in his eyes was absolutely ferocious. I could tell he was the kind of boy whose will could not be broken, who could survive anything. Even though his voice hadn't changed yet, he spoke as boldly as a young warrior when he commanded the three bikers to stop harassing me.

Among shouts of "Hoo te fuku're yu", the three motorcyclists approached the golden-haired boy. The leader among them stopped negotiations abruptly and punched the poor kid down. He tumbled into a sitting position against an old wooden crate, but he was only dazed for a brief second. Suddenly he looked up, and I swear that something almost nonhuman gleamed in the boy's eyes. It was the rage of a wild animal. The three men were so surprised that they paused their advance.

"Over here, officer!" another voice called.

An old man had seen the commotion and called a cop. Aforesaid cop was now running down the alley toward us, armed and ready to subdue the bikers. The men shouted a few more curses, took a roundabout way back to their bikes, and sped off. The police officer could have pursued them, but apparently he thought it was enough to give the brash bikers a good scare. I watched the motorcycles disappear into a cloud of dust, before turning my attention back to the golden-haired boy, now staggering to his feet.

"Um, excuse me," I stammered. "Um, thank—"

The boy gave a cheerful smile. "Are you alright, Mion?"

Three thoughts struck me one after the other in such rapid succession that they were almost indistinguishable. First came the realization that this boy of about my age was the most beautiful person I had ever beheld. Golden hair like an angel. Taller than average for his age. A body lithe and graceful to make up for the lack of packed muscles. A gentle face like that of a deer, but one that could turn into the face of a wolverine when his eyes came alive. Smooth skin, masculine haircut. He was perfect. The second thing that hit me was the realization that the boy had addressed me as Mion. So, he was Mion's friend, and he saved because he thought I was my sister, rather than altruistically rushing in to rescue a pretty stranger. This boy had no idea who I was, and I had no way of knowing if it was safe to blow my cover and explain. Sadness. Jealousy. The third thought, however, was that names don't matter. I could pretend to be Mion and still talk to this boy. I might even get to flirt with him. Being Mion actually sounded better than being a stranger.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," I told the boy.

"I'm glad you're safe," the angel said, and he reached out his hand toward my head.

Instinctively, I flinched. My mind recalled a thousand memories of being hit in the face and head by Oryo, by teachers, and by bullies at school. To my surprise, however, the boy simply placed his hand on my head and ruffled my hair briefly before pulling back.

I felt as girlishly flustered as if I had been kissed. Something about this kid—even his smallest gesture—made me feel mesmerized and completely unnerved at the same time. Stammering, I tried to make conversation with him while picking up my fallen groceries. But I was at a complete loss for words. Just being around him, my heart thundered and blood rushed to my cheeks and ears. I didn't even have the presence of mind—or the courage—to ask his name, before Kasai showed up in his black car. Apparently, I was taking too long, and he got worried. I took up my groceries, bowed and thanked the boy again, and hurried into the car.

As soon as I returned to my apartment, I called up Mion, demanding to know that boy's identity.

"Oh, that's Satoshi-kun," Mion informed me calmly. "Based on your description and that head-patting habit of his, it's got to be him."

I stretched out on the white sheets of my bed, one arm holding up the phone, the other pillowing my head. I enjoyed the sound of the boy's name. "Satoshi-kun, is it?" I mused girlishly.

"He's the type who daydreams a lot," Mion continued with just the slightest suggestion of annoyance. "His head is always in the clouds. His sister is much more dependable. That's right, he has a little sister. Her name is Satoko. She's been having a rough time because of stuff, though… you see, Satoshi is the son of the Hojo couple."

Hojo? The couple who were ostracized by the town for supporting the dam? The couple who had mysteriously fallen to their deaths on Watanagashi 1981? That would make Satoshi an orphan. And he had a little sister. I couldn't imagine how painful his life must be, though my own had hardly been better. His parents died, but they had probably died loving their children. My parents refused to nurture me and sent me away, and they did so because they didn't want to have to see me or deal with me at all. I felt a certain level of empathy for Satoshi.

"After their parents died," Mion continued, "they were adopted by their aunt and uncle. For about a year now, things have been pretty bad between Satoko and her aunt."

I jumped to the first conclusion that came to mind. "Is she being abused by her aunt?!"

Mion avoided the question. "Lately, Satoko is just… very tired. I'm sure the aunt and uncle were despised by the town for being related to the Hojo couple. Then, getting the Hojos' two kids practically forced on them… they earned the village's hatred. Satoko is tired of all this."

Did that mean Satoshi was very unhappy? I asked.

"Eh?" said Mion. "I really don't know one way or the other. He's always zoned out, so I can't tell."

Satoshi and I had more in common than I thought. We were both either unknown or hated by the village, and we were both stuck in situations we could not escape. On top of everything he must be going through, Satoshi had to take care of Satoko. I couldn't help wondering if he was stressing himself out with with it. Then I remembered how kind Satoshi had looked when he patted my head. He must be the ideal older brother, and he must have learned to treat girls well because he had Satoko. I was sure he was protecting his sister, just as he had protected me from the bikers. He took pride in it.

"Hey, Onee," I half-said, half-sighed. "Tell me more about Satoshi-kun, won't you?"

From that day on, I became obsessed with Satoshi. I wanted to know every little thing about him. I imagined him during the day time, and dreamed about him during the night time. At least temporarily, I lost interest in playing detective with the mysteries of Hinamizawa. When Mion realized how smitten I was, she agreed to let me start going to school as her about once a week. It would give me the chance to talk to Satoshi, even if he wouldn't know my real identity.

The school in Hinamizawa is tiny, understaffed, and uncomfortable, but because Satoshi was there, I loved it. Kids from all grade levels worked in the same large classroom, but because Satoshi was there, I put up with the noisiness of the younger kids. None of the country bumpkins there were up to my level of education, but because Satoshi was there, I stifled my arrogant frustration. The one-on-one time I got with Satoshi was short—ten minutes between class and his baseball practice—but because it was Satoshi, anything was good enough. I treasured our every short conversation, his every phrase, every word from his lips. Every time Kasai came to check on me, I would be journaling about Satoshi, or sketching a portrait of his face, or trying to learn the rules of baseball so I could follow at practice.

"Aren't you into this kid a little too much?" Kasai asked one evening.

"No way," I assured myself. "This is what first love is like for every girl. It's completely natural."

In reality, my habit of obsessing over people and interests is not natural at all. I tend to think in black and white; maybe that's related to my multiple personality problem, maybe it's a result of growing up in a house where being wrong got you beaten, or maybe it's just the way I'm programmed to think. My black and white thinking meant that people are either "good" or "bad." When it comes to people, I must either hate their guts or love them more than life itself. My dad used to say, "You would take a bullet to save Mion, then pull that same bullet out and shoot your grandma in the head." That's right; that's how I think. My hatred for certain people can be frightening, but my love for those dear to me is incalculably vast. So when I say I had a crush on Satoshi, it meant that I was already willing to sell my soul for him. It's a terrible curse to be able to feel so deeply.

***Baseball Practice***

On June 6th, the boys (and a couple of girls) in the baseball club divided into two teams for a match. This was a chance for Satoshi to show off his skills to Coach Irie, who might be able to hook him up with a better team. Satoshi invited me to the mock-game, and I helped out by bringing water and snacks to everyone on the bench. Irie, a man in his early thirties, sat on the bench and thanked me for the gift. He smiled at me through his glasses and shaggy hair. He was a laidback fellow, so we started chatting and joking, until it was Satoshi's turn to bat. He hit a home run on the first pitch.

"Amazing!" I said. "Even with my limited understanding, Satoshi is really good, isn't he?"

"He is," replied the Coach. "As long as he concentrates, he can bat .300. His mental state is delicate, though. He needs a lot of exercise to take his mind off home for just a little while. Otherwise, he won't pull through. Satoshi, you see, is the type who bottles in all his emotions. His health has been suffering for it, lately."

"Is it because the town hates him?" I asked in concern.

Irie shook his head. "No, the problem is his aunt. She emotionally abuses Satoko, and she's been getting worse about it. I'm sure it's really difficult for Satoshi to protect his sister. Recently, he's been telling me he wants to quit the team. He says it's because he's so tired all the time. I think the real reason is that he wants to spend more time around Satoko."

Of course. This was all starting to make sense now. Satoshi sounded dashing when he spoke confidently, and he looked adorable when he smiled, but he rarely took on either expression. The vast majority of the time, Satoshi always looked worried. Something was deeply troubling him, making him suffer. Sometimes, when he daydreamed in class, he looked like he might have been holding back tears. And yet I knew that this boy could not be broken—he coped with his parents' deaths, he stayed active in school, and he wasn't afraid of approaching three biker thugs who were all older and stronger than him. Neither bullying nor abuse, nor pain purposed to sting him, could ever break Satoshi's will. His only weakness, therefore, was pain and abuse directed at someone close to him. Satoko was treated cruelly, and Satoshi couldn't stand it. He could not stand the pain of another person. He couldn't stand not being able to give Satoko constant protection. And it was breaking him.

With my feelings in a jumble, I looked back at the baseball field. Satoshi ran as fast as he could to reach the next base before the ball was caught. He performed an excellent slide onto the base… seconds too late. I knew Satoshi prided himself on his speed, so he must have felt pathetic. His confidence dropped, and the game went downhill. From that day on, Satoshi never foot on the field again.

About a week passed. I went back to school on June 14th. Satoshi did not show up for class. It started raining as I walked my bike away from the school. I thought of waiting under the nearest wooden bus-stop shelter to wait out the rain before biking away. Just then, I heard an endearing, girlish voice from behind me. I turned and looked.

"Konnichiwa, Mii-chan."

It was Rena Ryuugu. She was a classmate and a good friend to Mion. I didn't dislike her, but I certainly found her strange. She would turn fifteen in just two months, but she sounded and dressed like a much younger girl. Her outfit that day was a white dress with a ruffley purple ribbon around her neck and a purple sash tied into a ruffley bow at her back. She also wore a white cap like a cross between a sailor's hat and a beret. Despite her pansified fashion style and childlike voice, there was an almost creepy air of solemnity hidden about her person. She didn't want that side of her to show. But according to Mion, sometimes the grim and capable person within Rena showed through her expressive blue eyes.

"Let's go home together," said the girl, and her smile was so innocent that it frightened me.