Hajime sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his body aching, one arm in a sling, two broken ribs making every breath a shallow discomfort. The door opened slowly, revealing Mrs. Ikari, the social worker, who offered a kind, professional smile. "Hinode-kun, good afternoon. How are you this morning?"
"Good," Hajime replied, his voice quiet, his gaze distant. He put his phone on the table, feeling a fresh wave of grief at his father's words from moments before.
Mrs. Ikari approached the bed. "Hinode-kun, how are the staff treating you here?"
"The staff here are very nice to me," Hajime said, the honesty in his voice clear.
"I like General Medical," Mrs. Ikari said, nodding. "The staff here are very nice to the patients."
Hajime, unable to hold back his burning question, finally asked, "Mrs. Ikari, did you get a hold of my father?"
Mrs. Ikari stood by the bed, her expression sympathetic. "Hinode-kun, I talked to your father."
Hajime's heart pounded with a desperate, childish hope. "What did he say? Will he come to pick me up?"
Mrs. Ikari shook her head slowly; her eyes filled with a gentle pity that felt like a blow. "Your father said he has given up his parental rights, so he won't be coming." She sighed, her gaze softening as she looked at Hajime's small, wounded form. "He also said it would be inconvenient for him to come to visit you."
Hajime looked down at his broken arm, a physical manifestation of his abandonment. There were no tears in his eyes, but his heart felt as though it was bleeding, a gaping wound. "I see…" he whispered, the disappointment a crushing weight.
Mrs. Ikari continued, her voice calm and professional. "Your mother said that it was a misunderstanding. Mr. Myoga was trying to protect himself because you assaulted him first. Mr. Myoga will not press charges. Do you want to press charges?"
Hajime shook his head, not looking at the social worker, his gaze fixed on some unseen point on the hospital sheets. He held back his tears, a familiar iron clamp around his emotions. "No..."
"If that's the case," Mrs. Ikari said, her voice tinged with regret, "then I'll close the case. Are you willing?"
Hajime nodded, a numb acceptance of his fate.
Mrs. Ikari sighed, a quiet sound of helplessness. "Have a speedy recovery."
"Thank you," Hajime replied, the words hollow.
As soon as Mrs. Ikari left, the door swung open again, and Aimi and Chibi strode into the room, their presence filling the sterile space with a suffocating tension. Aimi stared at Hajime, who still refused to look at them. "Get your ass off that bed and let's go home!" she snapped, her voice harsh. "I don't have time to watch you sleep in bed. I have better things to do!" She turned to Chibi; her voice laced with a threat. "This is the last time... If there is another time, I will..."
Chibi, his eyes glinting with a dangerous malice, grabbed Aimi by the shirt, pulling her close. "You will what, hmm?" he sneered. "What else can you do besides drinking and sleeping?" He pushed Aimi away from him with contempt. "No wonder your ex-husband left you. I'm the one who makes money. If you dump me, you'll have nothing." He then turned his gaze to Hajime, a sickeningly wicked smile spreading across his lips. "Hajime-kun, although your mother told you so, as your dear father, I will continue to support you with all my strength."
"Please get out," Hajime said, his voice low and strained, his eyes still closed. "If you two want to quarrel, then go somewhere else." He lay back on the bed, feigning sleep, wishing they would simply disappear.
Aimi rolled her eyes at Chibi. "Chibi-san, drag his ass off the bed, or are you just going to watch him?" she demanded. "I'm not babysitting him. Tonight, I'm going out regardless."
Chibi picked up Hajime's coat from a nearby chair and threw it at him, the fabric landing with a thud. "Get up!" Chibi demanded, his voice sharp. "We have plans tonight with our friends."
Hajime, still lying prone, his body aching, replied, "I don't need anyone to accompany me. You go and enjoy your night."
Chibi's face contorted with anger. Hajime had dared to talk back. He lunged at the bed, yanking back Hajime's blanket with a furious jerk. He then seized Hajime's broken arm, his fingers digging into the injured limb. "Get the fuck up!"
"Let go of me!" Hajime screamed, a raw cry of pain and pure rage.
Just then, the door burst open. Kenji rushed forward, a blur of righteous fury, and delivered a powerful punch to the side of Chibi's jaw. The blow sent Chibi sprawling to the floor. Kenji stood over him, his chest heaving, his voice vibrating with barely contained madness. "I told you, if you hurt Hajime-kun again, I will report you!" He quickly moved to Hajime's side, his eyes scanning him anxiously. "Hajime-kun, are you alright?"
For the first time in his young life, Hajime felt it – someone cared about him, truly stood by his side, and defended his dignity. His emotions, usually so tightly controlled, surged like a wild roller coaster, overwhelming him. He could no longer hold them back. He fell into Kenji's embrace, burying his face against his chest, and sobbed softly, the dam finally breaking. "Kenji-san... Kenji-san..."
Kenji held him close, stroking his hair, his voice a gentle balm. "With me here, you don't have to be afraid of anyone."
Seeing Kenji holding Hajime in his arms, Chibi's rage intensified, twisting into a sick, jealous fury. He had "raised" Hajime for many years, waiting to take Hajime's virginity when he turned sixteen. But everything was now crumbling, all because of Kenji, who stood between him and "his Hajime." His lips were bleeding as he staggered to his feet. "Hajime, stay away from him... you!" Chibi snarled, pointing a shaking finger at Kenji, trying to pull Hajime's uninjured arm away. But Kenji knocked his hand away with a swift, decisive move.
A nurse, alerted by the commotion, quickly rushed into the room. "What's wrong?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide.
Kenji looked at the nurse, his face grim. "Nurse, I'd like to report these two child abusers. This man…" He pointed at Chibi, his finger unwavering. "He is the one who assaulted Hajime-kun and broke his arm."
The nurse looked at Kenji, a hint of doubt in her eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked.
"I'm sure," Kenji affirmed, his voice resolute. "I witnessed him hit Hajime-kun with my own eyes. I saw him slap Hajime before, and now I saw him grab his broken arm."
"Don't believe him! I am his father!" Chibi blustered, trying to assert authority.
"I have told you many times, you are not my father!" Hajime roared, his voice filled with a raw, pent-up anger. He looked furiously at Chibi, the pain and frustration of years finally boiling over.
Chibi, seething, lunged again, trying to pull Hajime away from Kenji's arms, but Kenji grabbed his hand and forcefully pushed him away. Kenji's unyielding actions fueled Chibi's rage even further, and he rushed forward with a wild punch, aiming squarely at Kenji's face.
The nurse screamed, her voice shrill. "Please don't fight! Please stop fighting!" She rushed out of the room, fumbling for her phone, and quickly dialed 110.
Since the police station was only two blocks from the hospital, the police arrived within three minutes, their sirens wailing faintly in the distance.
Tonight, luck was decidedly not on Chibi's side. The two officers who showed up at the hospital were the same two officers who had responded to his home earlier, their faces already etched with suspicion.
The younger police officer, his voice dripping with sarcasm, addressed Chibi. "Sir, it's you again. Who hit you first this time?"
Chibi pointed to Kenji, his hand trembling with indignation. "He did it first!" He pointed to his jaw, still throbbing from the punch. "Look, he punched me right here!"
The older police officer looked at Kenji, his gaze steady. "Is that true?"
"Yes, I hit him first," Kenji admitted, his voice calm and unwavering. "But that was because he harassed Hajime-kun. I hit him to keep him away from Hajime-kun." Kenji looked at Chibi, his eyes blazing with anger. "Last time, he slapped Hajime-kun in front of me. At that time, I went to his house to confront him about the bruises and swelling on Hajime-kun's arms." He gently took Hajime's unbroken arm, carefully lifted his sleeve, and revealed the mottled skin underneath. "Look, these bruises, they are still visible."
The two police officers looked at Chibi, then at Hajime, their expressions grim. The older policeman spoke, his voice firm. "Hinode-kun, we need to take a picture of your injury."
"I do not wish to press charges," Hajime mumbled, the weight of years of silent suffering still heavy on him.
The older police officer looked at him kindly, but his voice was resolute. "Now it's not up to you anymore."
Kenji held Hajime's hand, his grip reassuring, his gaze locking with Hajime's. "If you want a better life, you must fight for it. If you want freedom, you must take the first step." He patted Hajime's hand lightly, a silent promise. "You don't have to be afraid... I will protect you." He gently wiped away Hajime's fresh tears.
After Hajime, emboldened by Kenji's presence and words, told his side of the story, recounting years of abuse and neglect, the two police officers arrested Chibi and Aimi.
Hajime didn't spend his summer working at the resort as planned. Instead, he spent his summer vacation recovering from his injuries, physical and emotional. Aimi was jailed for a month before her release. According to the judge's order, if she wished to keep Hajime in her custody, she needed to never contact Chibi again. Aimi was reluctant at first, but she didn't want to lose Asa's financial support, so she agreed to a no-contact agreement with the prosecution. However, her nocturnal party lifestyle remained unchanged, a testament to her unchanging priorities.
With Kenji's help, Hajime and his mother moved to another house, a small but brighter apartment. It was better than Chibi's dilapidated apartment, and they even had a roof where they could go to dry their clothes, a small luxury.
It was early morning when Hajime ventured to the roof, his movements still a little stiff as he hung his clothes on the clothesline. It was difficult for him to squeeze out the excess water with his injured arm, so he decided to hang up the clothes as they were, damp and heavy.
Kenji approached from the stairwell, a quiet presence. He smiled, a soft, familiar warmth radiating from him. "Did you know that if you don't want your clothes to wrinkle when they're dry, you can't squeeze the excess water out?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Hajime turned around, surprised, and saw Kenji walking towards him with that easy smile, holding two steaming cups of coffee in his hands.
"What are you doing here?" Hajime asked, a small smile finally gracing his lips.
"I'm just passing by," Kenji said, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "I wanted to see you before going to work." He handed a cup of coffee to Hajime, its warmth a welcome comfort, and placed the other cup on the floor. He then picked up Hajime's clothes, gently wringing out the excess water, and began hanging them on the clothesline. He lowered the clothesline to a comfortable height and looked at Hajime, his expression serious. "Hajime-kun, come and have a look."
Hajime walked to Kenji, his curiosity piqued. "What am I supposed to look at?"
Kenji gestured to the street below, to the tiny figures moving about their day. "Look at the people on the street. There are many people who have been through worse things than you, but they choose not to give up. I want you to never give up."
"Are you warning me not to commit suicide?" Hajime asked bluntly, the question hanging in the crisp morning air.
"Will you?" Kenji asked, his gaze unwavering, full of genuine concern.
"I thought about dying," Hajime confessed, the words a raw whisper. "But I couldn't find myself to end my own life."
Kenji's smile returned, warm and relieved. "That's good."
"Kenji-san, why are you so nice to me?" Hajime asked, the question bubbling up from a place of deep confusion and longing.
Kenji paused, then replied, his voice carefully neutral. "You are my brother's friend. It is my duty to protect those who are close to me."
Hajime's shoulders slumped slightly. "Since your brother found out that I was gay, he and I were no longer such good friends. We don't talk as much as we used to."
"I'm sorry," Kenji said, his expression softening. "I did try teaching him to be respectful."
"I suppose you also asked him to come and offer me that summer job at the resort," Hajime mused, a hint of bitterness in his tone.
Kenji smiled, a touch of regret in his eyes. "I did, but I never imagined that the situation would turn out like this. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, so don't apologize," Hajime said, shaking his head. "Instead, I should thank you for saving my life, not once but twice." He looked at Kenji's handsome, smiling face, a profound gratitude swelling within him. "Kenji-san, thank you for your help, but in the future, you don't have to help me anymore."
"Why?" Kenji asked, his smile fading, his eyes searching Hajime's.
"Because the better you treat me," Hajime confessed, his voice barely audible, "the less I will treat you as a brother."
Kenji's smile returned, slowly, then broadened into something truly captivating, full of warmth and undeniable meaning. He stretched out his hand, gently touching Hajime's face, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear, or perhaps just the cold. "Then don't treat me as a brother," he said, his voice a soft, intimate murmur, "because I didn't treat you as a brother in the first place." He held Hajime's gaze, his eyes shining with a promise. "Do you remember what I told you in the hospital? I want you to owe me a lot. Even if you spend the rest of your life with me, you will never pay off those debts."