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Looking up, the fact that there's a blue sky still feels a little strange. The sky, without clear boundaries, somehow thinly, carefully stretches out my anxiety.

Then, there were the vaguely remembered fourth-grade lessons, I left half my lunch, sat stock-still at my desk during lunch break feeling a little nauseous, and during cleaning time, I found out I’d been chosen for the beautification committee because I was the last one left without a role. The water in the gym pool was cold. And then it was after school.

I'm the same age as a fifth-grader, but I'm in a fourth-grade classroom.
I don't understand the schoolwork.
All day long, without saying a word.
My first day back at school in a while ended without me even trying to feel things out.

When I got back to my aunt and uncle's house, I was suddenly yelled at.
"Go to school with the group!"
Apparently, the local kids pass by the front of the house on their group walk to school, and my aunt, who happened to be hanging laundry outside, saw them. She must have noticed I wasn't there, which is why I got scolded.
"I'm sure I told you the meeting spot yesterday. Give me an excuse other than 'I don't remember.'"
"It's because I'm shy, you se—" Midway, my aunt pinched my cheek and twisted.
"How can you say that after telling such a shameless lie? You should just honestly say you forgot. Come on, let's eat."
It wasn't even 5 PM yet, but in this house, that was a normal dinner time.
"What about Uncle?"
"He's not coming home today."
She curtly announced his absence and gestured for me with her left hand. I let her hand guide me into the kitchen.
On the kitchen table were two servings of chikuzen-ni, spinach ohitashi, salt-grilled white fish, and miso soup with onions and potatoes. My aunt often makes Japanese-style meals.
"Did you wash your hands?" "Yes." "Alright, let's eat."
My aunt and I sat facing each other. She turned on the TV, then clasped her hands together. With a politeness you wouldn't expect from a sibling of *that* father, she said, "Itadakimasu," and picked up her chopsticks. Before that, I grabbed the kettle.
I poured barley tea into both of the two prepared glasses. It seemed there was still a lot left; it was a little heavy.
When I handed my aunt her glass, she gave a short "Thanks," and then stuffed her cheeks with white rice again.
I also picked up my chopsticks and held my rice bowl in my left hand. I ate some stew. Picked at the fish. Sipped a little miso soup. And then, the quiet sound of the TV. Mostly sound effects, no voices.
Since our mouths weren't chewing on words, the meal progressed smoothly.
While drinking tea, I watched the fourteen-inch TV set up in the kitchen out of the corner of my eye.
On the TV, a girl about my age was shown on the CRT screen, her outline occasionally distorting. It was a news story they'd been running for about three days.
I think a girl named Sanae Rika had gone missing in a town in the neighboring prefecture, a place unrelated to us.
Apparently, they were investigating it as a suspected runaway, kidnapping, or murder.
"Good grief. I wonder if there are guys like my brother in other towns too."
My aunt, looking exasperated with a deadpan stare, brought a piece of stewed lotus root to her mouth.
Even though she's rumored among neighbors and at work to be the sister of a criminal, she doesn't seem to care.
"How was school?" She shifted the topic of conversation from the TV to me. Unusual.
"It was boring."
"That's fine. School isn't supposed to be fun, anyway."
"You weren't bullied or anything, were you?"
With a nonchalant expression, she welcomed a negative response.
"No. Nothing happened."
"Mm... Well, that's good then."
Saying this, seemingly satisfied, she glanced at my face.
"You'll make friends eventually, somehow. So, well, it'll be alright."
Again, uncharacteristically for my aunt, she added a remark that sounded like she was concerned about me. Perhaps she was aware of it herself, as her gaze flickered a bit shiftily. But she seemed to sense something from my dubious expression and eventually settled down by eating. She looked down slightly, pecking at her fish.
At this point, I resolved to become a rare specimen myself and get a special feature. That's a lie, of course.
"Auntie, um..."
"Hm?" She looked up a little.
"Why did you take me in?"
"Hm? Just how things turned out," came the immediate reply. She looked down again, reaching for her miso soup bowl.
"Me getting married was just how things turned out. Me starting to live here was just how things turned out. If you want to put it nicely, it's fate, I guess. So taking in my brother's child... that was also just how things turned out. My personal feelings didn't really play much of a part in it."
The pauses in her lines were when she was sipping her miso soup.
"What, were you expecting some touching story?"
"Of course. I'm happy living with you, Auntie. But I wouldn't ask the same of you. I hate forcing things." That's a li— "Liar." Before I could correct myself, she poked my forehead with a chopstick rest.
"You're really just like your father. He was such a pedantic brat too, you know," my aunt concluded, sounding somewhat pleased.
Just like a kidnapper.
I don't feel praised at all. In fact, I feel like I might get arrested any minute now. ...And this churning in my stomach.
Eating face-to-face like this with the sister of *that* father. It was a reality that felt somehow as strange as looking up at the sky.

And then, the next day. At elementary school, first thing in the morning, I was asked to change seats.
"Hey, Ese-kun, you should swap seats with me."
The speaker was the girl who had glared at me yesterday. When I once again skipped the "group" part of the group walk to school and entered the classroom, the girl, whose name I still didn't know, was sitting in my seat. Her slender legs were stretched out, her demeanor calm. Her smile was unclouded.
"Your eyesight isn't bad, is it? Though your eyes are kinda like a bee's from an insect encyclopedia."
"...Well..." The connection to the previous day was completely unclear, so my answer was vague.
The randoseru backpack I was wearing dug into my shoulders. It felt much heavier than yesterday.
"In that case, the very back is best for you. 'Cause when they hand out worksheets and stuff, it'll be pitiful for the person behind you, Ese-kun. Right, Akaike?"
The boy sitting uncomfortably in the seat next to me, the one with a lot of (overflowing flesh, and such), nodded boldly. He himself seemed to be nodding slightly, or rather, obsequiously, but the support from his cheek flesh and under his chin was so impressive that it somehow reminded me of a basketball. And while we're at it, that white teacher—
But, could it be that this girl is picking on me?
"...Um, why?"
I'd meant it as a mumble to myself, trying to figure out her reason for confronting me. But the girl seemed to take it as a question about her statement and replied animatedly.
"'Cause, Ese-kun, you just seem kinda... dirty. 'Cause you're the child of a criminal."
That defenseless attack caused more of a stir in the classroom than it did in me. The girl, as if reveling in the commotion and attention, smiled innocently and looked at me.
It resembled the look in my little sister's eyes when she was trying to catch a dog or a cat.
"You know, I read in a book that victims who get involved in crimes sometimes end up doing the same thing themselves. And Ese-kun, on top of that, you're the child of a criminal, so you're twice as dangerous, right? My mom and stuff said so too, that I shouldn't get involved with Ese-kun. Everyone else's moms are probably saying it too, right?"
The girl vigorously shook her head, seeking agreement from the surrounding classmates. Quite a few students averted their faces in response, but some also shook their heads slightly or laughed.
It seems this girl is something like a central figure in the class.
And so, it's like, "Let's all spread the circle of bullying."
...It sounds like a joke, but the fact that it's not a lie is just... something else.
I'm being attacked. It's not a big deal, but it's the kind of attack that could at least give you a hangnail.
I don't want to be picked a fight with.
So, I kicked up the desk right in front of the girl.
The sound of it flying was the screams of those around us.
Because it was empty, the desk flew further than I expected and slammed into a locker under the window on the opposite side of the entrance, a locker the teacher used to store various things. There, the desk forgot how to fly.
The middle of the locker, which withstood the impact, was dented, but the desk falling to the floor seemed unharmed.
If this were life, the locker would lose, but if it were sumo, the desk would lose, wouldn't it?
My skin felt slimy under the gaze of the classroom. It felt like I wasn't among classmates, but inside the mouth of a single living creature called "classroom."
I made eye contact with Kaneko, and Akaike was cowering.
And then, the feeling of a thick line being drawn between me and the class welled up first.
Like being shown an enlarged cavity, the classmates in the background were exhaling an air mixed with bitterness, fear, and aversion into the classroom.
I felt like the meaning behind their gazes had also been collectively replaced. Though the murmuring didn't change.
The one from whom that noise was particularly strong was the girl, now in the unusual classroom situation of having lost her desk, as if her shell had been peeled off, just sitting on her chair. She cackled, as if rolling a ball of amusement on her tongue.
"...What's this? Ese-kun, you can furrow your brow too, can't you?"
The girl acted amused, deliberately mixing in a theatrical quality.
Looking down at her, I rested my hand on my forehead and sighed. True, my brow is furrowed.
Moving the desk seemed like a pain, so I pushed the cleanup onto her and headed for a seat at the back.
"Ah, Ese-kun, bring me my textbook. It'll get dirty, but I'll put up with it."
I ignored her voice but tried to look back. ...It was no use.
I don't know why I started it, or why it started. But who started it was clear.

On my third day back at elementary school, being bullied became a part of my school life. Yamana-san's prediction that I'd be ignored was off the mark.
Indifference and ignoring are different. Ignoring someone without being conscious of them is difficult. Very much so, surprisingly.
But what's surrounding me isn't so much bullying as it is being treated like a toy to play with in that way... It's a bit hard to describe. Since I don't actively show disgust or resist, I somehow feel like it lacks a certain tension or something.
At the center of the bullying was that girl. Her surname was Hamana, written on a sticker on her chair. She should be a year younger than me, but she has a height that doesn't make you feel that difference. Honestly, she's taller than me.
No, maybe I'm just small, but, you know, since "big" can also serve as "small," there's no need to use the character for "small" every time, which is a rational... Ah, never mind.
So, it seems I'm someone that Hamana just doesn't like. I wanted to say something like those very proper, important people in the world, like "Don't judge a person by their appearance," but then I reconsidered, thinking that if my inner self were exposed, the attacks would only accelerate and turn into persecution or something. Hamana is surprisingly correct. Though it's a correctness that doesn't matter at all.
A light form of bullying is the simple harassment of there not being enough worksheets. The teacher should be accounting for me at the very back when handing them out, but somehow there's always one missing. So I have to go to the front of the classroom to get it. The teacher hands it to me with a feigned tilt of the head, saying something like, "That's odd," clearly feigning ignorance. Including that exchange, it's quite effective in making me feel like it's a pain.
"A-Are you being bullied by the teacher?"
As I returned to my seat, Hamana would call out to me amicably. The others around would flash smiles that reeked of malice at her joke, but Hamana's own smile had no shadow. It was more like she was enjoying herself, or perhaps eagerly anticipating something.
"Who knows. Maybe by the teacher too."
If I just ignored her all the time, I'd probably be heckled for having no communication skills, so I occasionally threw back a simple sarcastic remark. Group life is quite a hassle.
When there's a long break in between, it becomes harder to blend in.
Is it like not wanting to go to school at the end of summer vacation? ...No, that's different.
"Phew, returning to schoo-ool, it's so-o tough, isn't it, E-se-kun?"
Like wearing thin clothes to catch a cold because you don't want to run in the marathon... Somehow, I feel like my metaphors are taking on a life of their own. They're so independent, should I really not follow their lead?
While I was spacing out, thinking such useless things, the teacher warned me, "Get to your seat quickly." I replied with a "Yes" that I didn't care whether was audible or not, and then returned to my seat at the very back. When I got back, the worksheet was placed firmly on my desk. It's a predictable routine, but the mental fatigue definitely piles up.
I don't want anyone to get involved with me, though.
But, the one thing my parents taught me was that life doesn't go the way you want it to.
"What's with you, replying to what the teacher says. Acting like an honor student when you're just an idiot."
Ever since then, it's not just Hamana; Akaike also picks on me, borrowing the tiger's authority. He speaks a little too fast, with a hint of impatience, making it clear he's not used to looking down on people.
I briefly considered advising him not to force himself, but it seemed likely to stir up trouble, so I decided to let my stomach handle the digestion, in two senses of the word.
Next, bullying part two. When I leave the classroom, they block the door from the inside so I can't get back in. They borrow the serving cart used for lunch or a classmate's desk near the entrance, robbing the sliding door of one of its functions and dedicating it solely to obstruction.
Hamana just gives orders from behind; mostly boys, especially Akaike, do the heavy lifting, sweating profusely.
Akaike's "serves you right" expression is also the most sweltering. No, I mean, he's the most enthusiastic.
He's an easy one to read; he's happy to be relied upon by Hamana.
And as for me, the main party involved, I just let out a sigh like "Haaah" and watch them work.
Having lived in a place with only adults, I've developed a sort of philosophical detachment, thinking, "Ah, kids are so energetic." Going to the trouble of moving heavy objects to block a door is like something out of a zombie movie.
It's not like the classroom is a comfortably air-conditioned room, so I don't have to force my way in.
Being subjected to this kind of thing and understanding, "I'm being bullied," probably has a big effect on one's heart, but my sensitivity has self-destructed, so I can't take anything in.
From top to bottom, it just leaks out, like a leaky roof.
Hamana seems dissatisfied that she can't make a spectacle of me resisting, so I even judged that she'd eventually stop this particular tactic, and just stood in the hallway waiting for time to pass.
Eventually, the bell rang, and when the teacher arrived, clutching textbooks under their arm, it was dismissed with a single phrase for pranks: "Hey, no fooling around." To me, too, it was just, "Get in the classroom," meaning I was treated as if I were one of the prankster buddies with all the other classmates, and the whole thing was ignored.

And then, after school. Staple number three (though it's debatable if such a thing exists): the randoseru spirited away. And one more thing, a little something extra. The locker at the back of the classroom where I put my randoseru was stuffed full of dead insects. I, as a member of the beautification committee, had been forced to clean the blackboard erasers, so I went to the hallway window, beat them bam-bam, polluting the air with chalk dust, and when I returned to the classroom, along with the classmates who had gone home, the number of remaining randoserus had also become zero. Am I even being bullied by my randoseru? A lie that could make one depressed.
Before the randoseru, my beautification committee work had increased by one task. Peeking into the locker, the insects were almost all dead. And it was packed solid. A thick, sticky, viscous mass, like something put in a blender for just three seconds. If this was done to someone who hated bugs, they'd probably faint.
"Well, it's pointless, though."
When it comes to bugs, I can not only touch them, I can eat them. Even a bug face pack would be no problem for me.
Even my little sister wouldn't bat an eyelash at something like this, I think.
What a waste of life, I'm disillusioned. That's a lie, though.
I pulled out all the bugs with my bare hands, winning the bug-grabbing contest, and carried them straight to the window. I could have smeared them like butter on toast on Hamana's desk, but I figured the bugs might soon start complaining about being treated like objects, so as a memorial service, I threw them all out the window.
Then, I wandered aimlessly through the empty classroom, silently undertaking the search for my randoseru. I went out of my way to check all the empty lockers, tried to force open the teacher's locked locker, and checked if it wasn't sunbathing under the window, trying to get an even deeper black sheen.
"...It's not here." The task of postponing trouble was quickly cut short in the small classroom.
After looking around the classroom one more time, I went out into the hallway. Wondering if it wasn't taking a dip in the hand-washing area, I checked with my blurry vision, then walked aimlessly through the deserted rectangle. My body swayed left and right, and an illusion like being submerged in a pool enveloped my senses.
Eventually, I arrived at the dead end of the hallway, hoping my randoseru might have been stuffed into a toilet bowl, but it was just as dirty as usual, and there was no sign of a bathing randoseru.
Coming out of the toilet, while looking at the window at the dead end to my left, I fell backward, spread-eagled. The back of my head made a good sound. I felt it had something in common with the sound from when I hated pickled scallions. The hallway floor, used as a footrest by many people, and perhaps because cleaning was haphazard, was grimy. But, to my flushed body, it offered a momentary, cool refreshment. Just like me.
...That's a lie, though. Its respectability is such that comparing it to me is rude.
And me, who provides the game of bullying, though I'll probably be gotten tired of eventually.
I searched everywhere in the school except for locked places, but all that produced was dust and sweat.
So, the search extended outside.
I had to search the gym storage, the pool changing rooms, the outside toilets, and so on, and I, a sun-sensitive, somewhat rotten bean sprout of a kid, was just terrified of the UV rays. Mostly a lie.
Empty hallways and stairs were suitable for wandering aimlessly. Because I wouldn't bump into anyone.
My back and shoulders still light, I moved to the shoe lockers and changed from my indoor shoes to my outdoor ones. It might be amusing to just wander home like a moth drawn to a streetlight, but it was obvious that even if I used my birthday present rights in advance to ask my aunt, "Buy me a randoseru and a set of textbooks," an iron fist of punishment awaited me. I couldn't go home empty-handed. It's catch and release, though that's probably not quite right.
On the grounds, soccer balls and dodgeballs were flying about. Being thrown or kicked, the balls are actors too. Maybe they'd like a role in a love story sometimes—not that I sympathize with their treatment, but then again, if someone were to rub their cheek against them, they might actually hate it, I thought, putting myself in the ball's position.
I shouldn't always apply human standards, I reflected, including throwing away the bugs earlier. That's a total lie!
I started walking to the left and decided to peek into the gym storage. I'll reluctantly start searching from the closest places.
I decided to pass through the unicycle practice area, where many thin pillars stood, and tangled tree vines served as a ceiling. It was shady there, and in summer, there were many caterpillars, so few people were around. It was convenient.
"Oh?" A distinctly black-and-white sphere passed right in front of me. I stopped and followed it with my eyes.

A soccer ball hit the outer wall of the pool and bounced back. The ones who came running to retrieve it were Kaneko and "..." Mii-kun.
"Oh... Oh. What are you doing?"
It was Kaneko who called out to me with a half-hearted friendliness. Mii-kun, also known as Sugawara Michizane, who was stepping on the soccer ball and had completely forgotten about me despite it not being our first meeting, looked back and forth between my face and Kaneko's.
"Kaneko's friend?" "Mm, ah, well, yeah, kinda."
It's difficult to clearly explain an ambiguous relationship. Kaneko, of course, didn't attempt to, and just mumbled.
"So, what are you doing?"
Kaneko asked again, showing at least some concern for the atmosphere he had just deflected.
"I'm looking for my randoseru."
"Randoseru? ...Ah, now that you mention it, they were doing something at the back. I think Hamana took it."
The neutral Kaneko neither stopped the bullying nor participated in it. He just tossed the information to me wholesale.
"Ah, speaking of Hamana, wasn't she in the gym storage when we went to get the ball?"
"Hm? Dunno, I'm in a different class, so I wouldn't know."
Sugawara kicked the ball up with the instep of his foot and started juggling it. He seemed restless if he wasn't moving. But if he's moving, that means he's not calm, so my reasoning is contradictory, meaning it's a lie. Makes no sense.
"No, I don't mean she's there now, but maybe she hid it... or, well..."
Kaneko scratched his cheek, struggling with how to talk to a bullied kid. So I cut the conversation short.
"Yeah, I'll go check it out anyway." I'd planned to go from the start.
But, hmmm, getting information makes me feel like the protagonist of an RPG. That said, it's not guaranteed that I'm the protagonist, nor is it decided that Kaneko is Villager A, which I arbitrarily decided was an interesting insight into life.
"Wanna play with us too? We're a bit short on people for soccer."
Sugawara invited me with an innocent smile. That disconnect made nausea well up rapidly.
"No. I have something I need to do."
I, who aspired to be a baseball boy, was not allowed to participate in ball-kicking. That's a lie, I tell ya!
Because I'm already tired of playing with you.
"Oh, right. You're looking for your randoseru. Well then, see ya."
Sugawara kicked the ball on the spot towards the group playing soccer and then ran off. Kaneko followed him. I, who aspired to be a baseball boy, was not allowed to participate in ball-kicking.
"Alright, then."
Sugawara has lots of friends. Even after what happened, he's managed to get most of his old life back.
Because Sugawara lost his memories and Maa-chan due to the aftereffects of the incident, he got lots of friends instead. What a convenient head he has. No wonder Maa-chan praised him for being smart.
He also has the solid concern of those around him, raised in a greenhouse that's forgotten the seasons.
I lost almost everything, but my memory isn't broken, so I have no friends.
So, only my randoseru is my friend. And what's more, it's been kidnapped.
The fact that I don't feel like screaming "What the hell is that?!" at the sky is what's wrong with me, isn't it?
Leaving a crushed caterpillar oozing a soy sauce-like color at my feet, I started walking again. The gym storage I was heading for is next to an old, unused incinerator.

Inside the storage, dust particles tickled my throat, like the dust dancing in my room.
Light from the entrance, cloaked in twilight, made the inside of the storage lukewarm and dry.
A blue basket packed indiscriminately with balls, equipment for drawing white lines on the track, unicycles free to borrow, and then, "Hey, Ese-kun. Playing ball all by your lonesome?"
Hamana was lying in wait, sitting on a vaulting horse, equipped with a hand propping up her cheek and a towel around her neck. (Her original pose.)
Now she was completely sprawled out, lying face down on the vaulting horse.
People aren't supposed to be stored here, though.
"My randoseru, will you give it back?"
I ignored Hamana's words and held out my hand. Hamana pulled her legs to her chest, getting into a shape like a formal bow or sitting seiza-style, then stood up. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and under her chin, and brushed the dirt off the skirt she was wearing. Then, with extreme deliberateness, she shook her head from side to side. Her swaying hair and face had features that, if she grew up just like that, could make her as beautiful as Koibi-sensei.