The Correct Japanese Terms of Homestay Seems to Be Marriage - Chapter 12

The Presence or Absence of Talent

Even mastering English alone would remove the thick barrier of the language wall, significantly lowering the hurdle to become friends with Sofia.

Having learned English, I would talk to Sofia whenever I had free time, both at home and school.

Gradually, little by little, Sofia started to meet my eyes, and little by little, she began to speak in a clear voice. I was happy.

I taught Sofia the Japanese words she didn’t understand. Essentially, I was Sofia’s Japanese teacher.

Before I knew it, I was always with Sofia, and the base of our daily life had shifted from the Japanese-style room to my room. We even started sharing a bed.

My lack of assertiveness had disappeared somewhere during that life.

The period was only about half a year. In that short time, I wanted to show Sofia various sceneries. So, even if it was a bit forced, I took her hand and took her to various places.

Sofia had come all the way to Japan from a distant country, and I wanted her to create many good memories in this country. That was all I was acting on. There was no time to stop.

The guys in the class teased me quite a bit.

“Look, he’s flirting with the foreigner again,” “Do you like her, huh?” and so on, I was often teased with such jest.

But I didn’t care about that. I didn’t have the time to care, nor was there a need to, because I was having fun being with Sofia.

Living life as if running through the days, half a year passed in no time, and before I knew it, the time to part with Sofia had come – and after that, my life changed completely.

I, who had become an active person, threw myself into all sorts of things.

Looking back now, I wonder if I was possessed by some dangerous evil spirit. That’s how much I was actively involved in everything back then.

Initially, I was the envy of everyone.

I was leaps and bounds ahead in studies, outstanding in sports, and by that time, I was also the tallest in the class, naturally. It was no surprise that I became the center of attention in my class. To put it myself, I was quite popular.

Whenever there was something, everyone relied on me, and I was pulled from every direction. And whenever someone was in trouble, I would extend my hand without hesitation.

Maybe that was the peak of my life. I, a fifth-grader, was living the ideal life.

But when I became a sixth-grader, the way people looked at me changed drastically.

The next year we would be junior high students. As the sensitive period where the early birds start thinking about their futures and middle school entrance exams began, envy turned into jealousy. If I had been good only at studies or only at sports, or if I had been just moderately good, things might have been different.

Those who went to cram schools shunned me, and those who played sports saw me as an enemy.

Peer pressure is stronger than anything else, and when an atmosphere that you should not get involved started to drift, people disappeared from around me one after another.

“Ayasaka-kun is different from us,”

“Genius must be nice,”

“Being with him makes you feel the difference…”

“A modified human,”

“Looking at him demotivates me.”

Jealous gazes from afar. A single movement of mine would gather attention all at once. In the whispered conversations slithering through the classroom, there was a sense of resignation. I was treated like something untouchable.

Sometimes, someone would talk to me, but it was always to dump chores on me. “You’re a genius, so it must be easy for you,” they would say, as various class troubles unfairly concentrated on me.

But I didn’t feel like refusing or hating it. Indeed, it would finish much faster if I did it, and I thought it was the right decision.

I didn’t dislike being relied on. Even if it came from malice or something, I thought it was good if I could help someone.

I understood that from meeting Sofia. Sofia, who had always seemed on the verge of tears, showed me a bright smile like the sun, and at that moment, I felt the greatest joy of my life.

I understood clearly at that time. My talent exists for the sake of others. I, who can do anything, should use this talent not for myself but to help those who can’t.

So, I want to become someone who makes people who are crying smile, who rescues people in trouble. No, I must become that person.

Because I am, Ayasaka Keitaro, a genius.

…But, I couldn’t become one.

During those days, one day, I snapped and hit someone for the first time.

The cause of it was something so unpleasant that I don’t even want to mention it now, and as a child, I couldn’t bear it. There was no way I could. I couldn’t forgive it.

By the time I realized it, it was over, and four of my classmates were groveling in front of me, looking up at me with eyes as if they were looking at a monster, not a person.

It was four against one, but I was the only one unscathed, so I was the only one scolded severely by the teacher.

“You’re Ayasaka-kun, so you could have acted more maturely,” I think the teacher said without any deep meaning.

But those words pierced me deeply, and I thought, “Ah… I’m not a child in the teacher’s eyes,” and I felt pain somewhere in my body.

Of course, my mother was called to school, and I was interrogated by the adults surrounding me, but I stubbornly refused to say why I had hit them. I didn’t want to say. I kept my mouth shut.

It was hard to watch my mother apologizing. She wasn’t at fault.

Looking down on other kids, heartless, not thinking of anyone but yourself, the parents of my classmates judged me like that, and I watched them from somewhere far away.

Ah, that’s right, maybe that judgment is correct.

Because, at that time, I definitely didn’t think of the people in front of me, other than my mother, as humans.

From that day on, I became invisible.

I was regarded as an existence not to be touched.

My father and mother frequently suggested moving or changing schools, but I refused. It felt like admitting defeat, and I just didn’t like that idea.

So, without changing anything, without changing anything… I continued to work hard as before. I kept running forward, single-mindedly, without thinking of anything. I was in a frenzy.

Why I was so stubbornly continuing to work hard, I no longer know now. I’ve long forgotten the reason.

That’s right. There was one thing that changed after that day.

It was that I started going to places away from school after school.

Apparently, I missed human warmth, as I started interacting with unknown kids in unknown places.

At the park, I played with a younger kid who was always alone.

I played with a kid who was too young to know jealousy.

Every time I saw that usually expressionless kid’s happy face, I felt a definite sense of satisfaction.

At the library, I read books and studied with a kid of the same age.

That kid was ostracized at school because of their intelligence, and I felt a strange sense of affinity.

It was the first time I saw someone smarter than myself, and I remember feeling a bit complicated.

At the shrine, I once encountered a scene of bullying.

I intervened on impulse. But I didn’t hit anyone. The image of my mother apologizing came to mind, and I couldn’t raise my hand.

I was beaten and kicked without resisting, and even though I endured it silently and ended up as battered as a stray dog in a storm, it was easier to endure it all silently.

The bullied kid, apologizing and crying that it was their fault, reminded me of Sofia, and I comforted that kid with the brightest smile I could muster. It was extremely painful just to open my mouth or smile

because my face was swollen, but I didn’t care. I just wanted them to stop crying.

After that, I started playing with that kid too.

When I wanted to relax alone, I headed under the overpass.

Sitting on a bench under the overpass, I enjoyed the noisy, clamorous sound of trains passing by.

It was similar to the sound flowing through my heart, so listening to it calmed me down.

Under the overpass, besides the bench, there was an abandoned basketball court.

Somehow, a high school girl started coming there to practice.

From my point of view, not just mine but anyone’s, she had such a clumsy form and movement that I thought she was bad at basketball, but she practiced with a happy look on her face.

Watching her made me feel happy too, and seeing her practicing so intently with a good smile made me feel small.

I had never learned anything with such a happy face, no matter how skillfully I did it.

Before I knew it, I was visiting the overpass every day. And every day, that person was practicing.

Sitting on the bench and watching that person’s practice scene became a moment of peace for me.

That became a part of my daily life, and about a month later, that person talked to me.

“Hey, boy! You’re always sitting there alone, but do you have any worries? Tell your sister!”

Her voice was unfathomably bright. She looked even more fitting for a smile up close. She’s like the sun, I thought.

I easily told her my embarrassing circumstances without any resistance.

I probably wanted to share my feelings with someone. I wanted someone who would accept me as I am. I thought she was the one.

That person, with her eyes closed and her arms crossed, nodded along to my gloomy life story, and soon after I finished talking,

“Hmm hmm, having talent is also tough, huh… Alright, I got it! Let’s play basketball with me!”

She said, extending an orange ball towards me with a full-faced smile. Her white teeth were exposed, and there was not a single trace of seriousness in that carefree smile. I felt silly for being serious, and for some reason, I laughed too.

“From what I’ve heard, you’ve never played basketball, right? It’s a waste with your height! Basketball is fun! When you dribble the ball, you can forget all the unpleasant things! And it feels good when you make a shot! Let’s play together!”

She was too optimistic, unlike me. But I thought it was nice.

I didn’t think sports could change anything, but I felt something could change with her.

“Wow, you’re good, kid! You’ve already surpassed my four months! I’m jealous—this brat! But I’m a genius of effort! I won’t lose!”

She was not only bad at playing but also at teaching. But it was fun.

Even as I quickly learned the techniques she taught me, she laughed happily. Strangely enough, she seemed proud.

For the first time, I learned that there are people who are unrelated to envy or jealousy by seeing her.