A Hard-Boiled (Self-Proclaimed) Guy Like Me Doesn’t Suit a Romcom-Style Youth - Chapter 5: Broken Heart (Flashback)

Chapter 5: Broken Heart (Flashback)

The summer of five years ago. I had three options.

One was to become my uncle’s adopted son and live in Tokyo.

One was to live in the Republic of Cicymel in South America with my father.

And the last one. To return to my grandmother in Toto City.

When my grandmother fell ill, I was still young, and I think she was anxious about her unfamiliar life in a wheelchair. My being sent to live with my maternal grandparents in Tokyo was something that couldn’t be helped. But two years have passed since then, and my grandmother’s life has settled down.

My grandmother, Asou Shikiko, runs a tea ceremony and calligraphy class. It seems she leaves the instruction to her disciples because kneeling seiza has become difficult, but with the help of her disciples and a helper who comes to assist, she manages her daily life just fine.

Besides, I was in the fourth grade of elementary school. Even if I couldn’t provide physical assistance, I could do housework and take care of myself, so my grandmother asked me if I wanted to live together again.

During the two years I lived in Tokyo, I would always return to my grandmother’s house whenever long holidays started. Being in Tokyo, my uncle and aunt would inevitably invite me to go camping or on trips. It’s not that I disliked my uncle and aunt. It’s just that I felt uncomfortable, and so I fled to my grandmother in Toto City. I think my grandmother understood my feelings.

Having decided to return to Toto City where my grandmother was, I started preparing to move to her house as soon as summer vacation began. It was decided that I would transfer back to the elementary school I used to attend starting from the second term.

My desk and bookshelves were originally left at my grandmother’s house, so it didn’t take much effort. I sent my belongings in cardboard boxes, put only a minimum change of clothes in my bag, and headed to Toto City by train alone, as always.

From Tokyo to Toto City takes about four hours one way, transferring between the Shinkansen and the limited express. Toto City, being a hot spring town, is slated to become a Shinkansen stop in a few years. If that happens, I’ll be able to go faster, but at that time, I intended to live in Toto City forever, so I didn’t care much, thinking I wouldn’t go to Tokyo often anyway.

My grandmother’s purely Japanese-style house was renovated to be barrier-free last year, and the living room became a stylish modern living space. In my grandmother’s room, a bed and a Buddhist altar were placed on the flooring, with a portrait of my late grandfather hanging. Now, the only rooms with tatami mats are the reception room facing the veranda and the detached building used as a classroom. My room on the second floor was also renovated to have flooring. Grandmother can no longer go up to the second floor, nor can she air out the tatami mats, so it can’t be helped.

When I entered for the first time after the renovation, I felt a little lonely at how much it had changed.

But what never changes whenever I come is the voice of that girl I love so much.

“A-ya-ta-kun! Let’s pla-ay!”

A voice full of energy coming from the entrance.

Usually, she calls me “Ayata,” but only at this time, it’s “Ayata-kun.”

Even though we’re already in the fourth grade, this hasn’t changed since kindergarten.

“Oh? Sounds like she’s already here. Go on to her.”

“Yeah.”

I don’t know how she sniffs it out, but that girl rushes over as soon as I return home. Even today, not even 15 minutes have passed since I arrived at the house.

I headed to the entrance, leaving the luggage I brought as is.

When I opened the sliding door entrance, my childhood friend with skin tanned pitch black was waiting. Tan lines peeking from her sleeveless shirt. Extending from her short hot pants were her gleaming black, antelope-like (sturdy) legs.

She looks as if a mischievous boy was painted into a picture, but she is a proper girl. The ponytail bobbing on her head and the slight swelling in the chest area of her sleeveless shirt indicate that.

“I’m home. Mirai-chan.”

“Welcome back, Ayata!”

With a beaming smile, Mirai jumped at me. I somehow managed to withstand being pushed over.

“Hey. Don’t jump on me suddenly. It’s dangerous.”

“Geez! You’re skinny as always. Are you eating properly?”

“I’m eating. Aren’t you the one who got fat, Mirai-chan?”

Somehow, I feel like Mirai’s body has become squishier and rounder than when I met her before.

Even now, something soft is hitting my arm.

“You said it, you—! I was worried about that!”

“Whoa! It’s suffocating! Give, give!”

Mirai puts me in a headlock. The usual playful fighting, the usual relationship.

But that summer vacation was decisively different from usual.

Mirai was not alone.

“Hey? When are you going to introduce me?”

Mirai had brought along a boy I had never seen. He was a little taller than me and Mirai, and his hair was tied at the nape of his neck. And his face was excessively good-looking. That was Masaki.

*

“Grandma-sensei, hello—!”

“Excuse the intrusion.”

“Yes, hello. Mirai-san. And Masaki-san too.”

Though Mirai is mischievous, she is technically one of the students attending my grandmother’s class. Since my grandmother seemed to know Masaki, he might be one too.

“Sensei. Can we play in the garden?”

“Yes. Just don’t get hurt.”

“Okaaay!”

After asking my grandmother for permission, Mirai took my hand and headed for the garden as if she owned the place.

“Eaaaast, Mirai-Umiii! Weeeest, Ayata-Yamaaa!”

There is an annual event we always do when I return home. That is a sumo match with Mirai.

It started as a way to check each other’s growth, but so far, I have lost every single match.

My grandmother’s garden is large enough for children to play in. Japanese gardens often have plants and stones placed for enjoying the scenery, but my grandmother didn’t do that. Because she liked having tea outside with her students and having barbecues.

Drawing a circle in the garden to serve as the dohyo, facing each other—me, Ayata-Yama, and Mirai-Umi.

“Now, will Ayata-Yama be able to escape his losing streak?”

As always, Mirai is noisy, acting as wrestler, caller, referee, and commentator all by herself.

Masaki is watching the scene while sitting on the veranda.

It seems Masaki is in the same grade as me and Mirai and attends elementary school in the neighboring town.

From Mirai, I received a rough introduction: “This kid is called Masaki, a friend,” and from the person himself, it was like, “I’m Masaki. Nice to meet you.”

“Hakkeyo~i! Nokotta!”

Mirai doesn’t shy away even against boys. Holding me tight, she pushes as if lifting me up.

Mirai’s hair pressed against my face is ticklish. I push her shoulders trying to pull away, but Mirai doesn’t let go. Both in strength and reflexes, Mirai is superior. I’m on my tiptoes, being dragged helplessly to the edge of the ring.

“Nnnngh! Nokottaaaaa!”

“Whoaaa!?”

Lifted up by Mirai, I was thrown to the ground.

“Boom! A lifting throw (tsuriotoshi) decided it! Mirai-Umi wins! Probably roughly 10 consecutive wins! Ayata-Yama is weak! Weaaaak~!”

The solo referee and commentator Mirai-Umi sits with her legs apart right next to me, who is spread-eagled on the ground (apparently called sonkyo), and mimics cutting the air with a hand-chop like a sumo wrestler.

The usual scene.

Not being able to win against Mirai is also usual. Up until now, I thought it couldn’t be helped.

But this year was different.

“Ahaha. You’re overdoing it, Mirai. You have to go easy on him.”

“Ehh. I threw him gently even with that, though.”

That was because Masaki was there.

I was laughed at by Masaki.

Being beaten by Mirai and laughed at by another guy was hopelessly embarrassing and frustrating.

“You should get thrown by Mirai-chan too.”

When I said that, Masaki stood up with a confident smile.

“Sounds interesting. Hey, Mirai. Will you have a match with me?”

“Yeah. Okay!”

Masaki stretches his Achilles tendons to warm up. The limbs extending slenderly from his T-shirt and shorts are excessively white and have no tan lines.

He must be the indoor type. There’s no way he can beat Mirai with such thin and white legs.

“Eaaaast, Mirai-Umiii! Weeeest, Masaki-Fujiii!”

It seems Masaki’s ring name has been decided as Masaki-Fuji. Ring names are decided by Mirai and refusal is not permitted.

“Face off, face off! Hakkeyoi, nokotta~!”

The bout between Mirai and Masaki begins.

You’re kidding, right?

And I doubted my eyes. Because Mirai was struggling.

Masaki has height, but is slender. Mirai’s legs are definitely thicker. And yet, Masaki was overwhelming Mirai with strength.

Eventually, Mirai was pushed down by Masaki, deciding the match.

“Unyaah! Mirai-Yama defeated~! The winner is Masaki-Fuji!”

Mirai doesn’t stop her commentary even when she loses. But even that didn’t enter my ears.

Mirai lost?

I watched it with disbelief.

To me, Mirai was a hero. She pulled my shy self into the bright world. And she saved me from bullies.

The fact that my hero lost was a shock, and I lost my words.

“Next, I want to try against Asou-kun.”

Masaki’s eyes turn to me.

Why? If Mirai couldn’t win, there’s no way I can win.

I wanted to refuse. But—

“Oh! Do your best, Ayata! Avenge me!”

I can’t back down after being told that by Mirai.

“Okay.”

“Alright!”

Masaki and I face each other in the ring.

Masaki, who suddenly appeared and intruded on my relationship with Mirai. To me at that time, Masaki looked like an unfathomable monster.

When I faced Masaki, I was scared enough to want to run away.

“Eaaaast, Masaki-Fujiii! Weeeest, Ayata-Yamaaa!”

Mirai is the same as always. But Masaki was called before me. Such a small thing pierced my heart like a thorn.

Why, a guy like this! I took my stance with determination.

“Hakkeyo~i, nokotta!”

Get out from between me and Mirai!

I charged at Masaki. I charged with the intention of blowing him away.

But my body didn’t reach Masaki.

Masaki’s hand thrust at my shoulder as if rejecting me. My full power was easily repelled, and my heart broke.

I can’t win. The moment I thought that, I was thrust again and landed on my butt.

“Masaki-Fuji wins!”

Mirai’s voice imitating the referee is no longer audible to me now.

Losing so easily, frustrated, and sad, I was on the verge of crying.

“Are you okay?”

Masaki takes my hand and forcibly pulls me up. Despite being white, thin arms not much different from mine, there is incredible power.

And then, so Mirai wouldn’t hear, he brought his face close and whispered in my ear.

“If you’re too pathetic, I will take Mirai for myself, you know?”

I felt like everything went black before my eyes.

I like Mirai. I want to be with her forever.

But Masaki is aiming for Mirai too.

It’s impossible. She’ll definitely be taken.

I can’t win. I don’t feel like I can win at all.

At that moment, my grandmother’s voice came from the veranda.

“Everyone. Miyazu-san called saying to come home for lunch. He said Ayataka-san should come too, so go on.”

“Okaaay! Let’s go, Ayata!”

“Y-Yeah. I’m off.”

“Take care.”

“Sorry for the intrusion!”

“Excuse the intrusion.”

Seen off by my waving grandmother, I headed to Mirai’s house, just going with the flow. Mirai’s house is the largest inn in the hot spring town, about a 15-minute walk away.

“Ayata! Masaki! Race to my house! Ready, set, go!”

Mirai and Masaki start running. The gap between them and me widens in an instant. Mirai is fast too, but Masaki seems to be in the lead. As for me, my side starts hurting immediately and I stop.

Looking at the backs of Mirai and Masaki running far ahead, the tears I had been holding back finally overflowed.

How weak and uncool I am. Compared to that…

Masaki is stronger and faster than Mirai. And good-looking. If asked which one is better, me or Masaki, surely anyone would choose Masaki. Even Mirai…

I don’t want to see that.

“Heeey!”

Mirai is waving. But next to her is Masaki.

My special seat next to Mirai has already been stolen by Masaki. If I stay in this town, I’ll spend my time watching Mirai and Masaki walking side by side from behind. That’s what I thought.

That… I hate that.

With my heart stained black, I was treated to lunch at Mirai’s house. Mirai said to play at her house until dinner, but I said I was tired from riding the train early in the morning and left Mirai’s house early. Even during that time, Masaki was next to Mirai. It seems Masaki is liked by Mirai’s parents too, and is staying at Mirai’s house during summer vacation.

That night, after thoroughly soaking my pillow with tears, I sent an email to my father.

That I want to live with him.

This is the account of how I ended up crossing over to South America.