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A boy with messy, dark hair hastily walked into Untouchable Airsofts just after the first few weeks of transferring to Shujin. Ignoring the store owner, Iwai Munehisa, he headed straight to the back of the store, grabbing an airsoft magazine on the way. He crouched to look at one of the lower shelves then buried his face in the magazine, blending in with the boxes there.
Iwai found it strange.
Irritated at the kid’s rudeness and suspicious of his actions, Iwai wasn’t covert in his surveillance, but suddenly, the walls filled with muffled yelling and footsteps coming from outside, drawing his attention away.
From other kids from Shunjin just getting out of school, Iwai thought. The voices hovered in front of the shop for a while, and the stillness of the kid who just came in, buried in the magazine, made Iwai forget he was in there.
The voices eventually faded into the distance, engulfed by the murumers of the city: the low hum of cars, the soft clicks of heels and dress shoes, the ignorable buzz of electricity from the lamps flickering on as the afternoon turned to evening. A shift in the corner reminded Iwai of the company. The boy stood slowly, cautiously, from his crouched position, still holding the magazine in his face. He shut it with a satisfied snap, brushed dust from his uniform pants, and placed the magazine back on the shelf where he got it.
As he headed toward the door, he nodded silently at Iwai.
“Loitering brat,” Iwai muttered as the bell to the door rang with the boy’s departure.
It was a weird interaction that Iwai forgot about. Until it happened again.
Bursting through the store, the boy dove for the same corner at the back of the store. Iwai shot from his seat behind the counter with a start.
“Hey!” Iwai shouted, but the boy ignored him. Before Iwai can repeat, the store door bell rang again and three more students from Shujin shoved themselves through, scanning the store frantically.
“Hey!” Iwai shouted again, this time all his anger directed at the boys. “Disrespectful brats! Get the hell out of my store!”
One clicked his tongue, locking his eyes with Iwai, as the other two backed up towards the exit.
Iwai could no longer handle the disrespect. He hopped over the counter in a one swift movement and shoved his sleeves up his arms, ready and not above giving these kids a whooping they deserve. At that they all shove off, the bell at the door ringing once again.
Iwai huffed, still squared up at the door, adrenaline pumping, wondering if he was really going to hurt those kids. Would it be self-defense? He thought. Who’s defense? Mine? The store’s? Or...
Iwai turned abruptly at the soft shuffling behind him. The other student hiding in the corner regulated his breathing, brushing off the dust from his uniform pants.
Iwai thought he ought to sweep that corner.
Iwai had a good look at the student. Messy hair covered expression, glasses hid his intent, and a Shujin uniform homogenized him. He looked average and, if Iwai was honest, a little boring. The student went for the door, as casual as any of Iwai’s other customers, but Iwai stood in front of it, refusing to budge without answers.
“What the hell was that kid?” Iwai kept his voice calm, yet stern. Anyone could tell it was bullying and so Iwai had already convinced himself to stay out of it if it didn’t concern him. It’s just part of school life, he thought. But it was going to be Iwai’s problem if the boy kept running into the store. He wasn’t going to stand for anything getting knocked over next time.
When the kid turned toward him, he expected the kid to be wet eyed with lip quivering. But the boy was composed. Now that Iwai could see his eyes, he could tell that they were sharp, striking even, very unlike the boring student he assumed he was just a moment ago. And he wore a smirk. It made Iwai want to punch him.
The kid nodded at Iwai then reached around him for the door.
“I’m talking to you kid.”
Despite his warning, the student ducked around Iwai.
Disrespectful.
Iwai grabbed his wrist and pressed him against the counter. That cool composure and irritating smirk vanished in an instant. The student leaned back as far as he could, his once sharp eyes now wide and distant, like he was remembering a different time. Where did that punchable face go, Iwai wondered.
The boy shook his head and patted his neck with a shaking hand.
The silence was irritating. Disrespectful. “Answer me!” Iwai shouted, and the boy flinched hard. He dug around his pockets for something and Iwai grabbed his wrist out of reflex. The boy winced, making glances between Iwai’s eyes and his hand as if he was urging Iwai to see it. Iwai guided the boy’s hand from his pocket at the pace Iwai could control, to reveal that he was just reaching for his phone.
Iwai let go of his wrist and dragged his hands down his face. “Are you serious right now? Can’t you kids live without your phones for one damn second.”
There was another shake of the head and the boy typed something furiously on his phone before surrendering it.
Iwai lifted a brow and suspiciously dragged his eyes from the boy's momentarily fearful then saddened expression, then down to the phone.
A note app.
“I can’t talk," it said. The boy patted his neck again.
Iwai huffed, trying to ignore the horrible feeling resting in his stomach and returned the phone before taking a purposeful step backwards. The tension in the boy seemed to lessen, but his hands were still shaking when he took his phone back.
“What the hell was that?” Iwai repeated, voice softer.
The boy shrugged. And Iwai nodded to his phone. The boy sighed in return and started typing.
“Just bullies. Can I leave? I won’t come in again.”
Iwai crossed his arms. He supposed he couldn’t keep the kid any longer, but for some reason he didn’t feel like he should let him go. Iwai worried his lip before letting his arms fall and stepping away completely.
“Okay,” Iwai nodded, forcing himself to be satisfied. “Okay,” he repeated.
The kid bowed.
Oh. That was… somewhat respectful.
And then he vanished out of the store.
Rounding the corner back to his seat, Iwai sighed. It was finally over. But why did Iwai feel so rotten?
It was a whole month and a half before something like that happened again. It was the evening, and the sun was setting quickly but the lights hadn’t come on just yet. The sunset peaked through the alleyway and bounced off the metal of the light posts and bikes and windows and all the other things that made Shibuya feel so mechanical.
He heard the rapid patter of footsteps before he heard the yelling. Iwai tensed, expecting his door to fly open again, but the voices and the shadows breezed past this shop, and Iwai furrowed his brows wondering why he was so expectant of it.
Excited, even.
But true to his word, the boy didn't step inside the shop again.
The footsteps stopped and the yelling turned into laughter.
Loud.
Cackling.
Villainous.
Iwai could only imagine what was going on around the corner of his shop. And he closed his eyes to drown it out. “Don’t get involved,” he repeated to himself.
He grabbed a broom and finally swept up that dusty corner he’s been neglecting and swept and swept until the noises stopped.
He felt heavy.
Iwai kept sweeping and ended up cleaning up more than he intended. He shot off a quick text to his son, Kaoru, to tell him that he was on his way home and apologized for being late.
When he got home, he was surprised that Kaoru had already ordered take out for them. Coming home to an already prepared dinner would normally relieve him. But as he stepped into the house, seeing Kaoru sitting at the table waiting, just waiting, he couldn’t help but imagine Kaoru in a Shujin uniform.
Silently, Iwai joined his son at the table. He offered a sly yet apologetic smile to Kaoru, knowing if he uttered a word, something might break or spill or both and was thankful that Kaoru just nodded back, acceptingly.
It was then that Iwai realized why he hated the boy’s smug smile. It was like his own. Fake. Forced. Guarded.
“You okay?” Kaoru finally asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Just a long day.” Iwai started to poke at his takeout. “How was today?”
“Good. We were talking about our options for high schools for next year. Like Kosei or Shujin and stuff.
Shujin, huh?
“I see," Iwai said. "Thanks for dinner. I appreciate it, kid."
Iwai didn't sleep that night.
Or the night after.
It was the weekend. Iwai headed toward his shop, mindlessly swept up in the crowd that moved toward the Crossing. He held his breath when he saw a familiar mop of black hair in Central Street coming from the station and he tried hard not to stare.
He hoped it was the same boy. Seeing him out and about would relieve him of his conscience and would reaffirm that he made the right decision by not getting involved. The world continued to spin and the boy would be fine.
When the boy stepped to the Crossing, Iwai could see he was not fine.
His face was a mix of old and new bruises, purple, yellow and green. Around his eyes were darkened and there was a cut on the corner of his lips so fresh that it would surely split open again if he gave Iwai that same smirk he did before.
Iwai may as well have been the one to give him these bruises. "Fuck."
And just as quickly did he see the boy, the crowd swallowed him up. No one noticed his injuries and if they did, no one batted an eye.
When the crowd surged to the other side, Iwai heard the murmurs of two girls.
"Did you see that guy?"
"Isn't he the new transfer?"
"Yeah. I guess the rumors are true. He's such a delinquent"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you see his face? He definitely got into another fight"
Iwai took out a lollipop from his pocket, sucking on it to prevent him from saying something needlessly. He wasn't sure those rumors were true at all. The boy didn’t seem like he had an interest in fighting back. Iwai turned to say something to the girls.
They looked at him with eyebrows raised, lke he was the most annoying thing in the world.
Disrespectful.
"What?" They said in unison.
Don't get involved. Don't get involved.
He huffed and turned away.
By the following week, it was starting to feel like clockwork. The school day ended and Iwai could hear the distant chatter of students heading home or going to the arcades or whatever per usual.
Then came the silence he was accustomed to, save for the noises of the street and the city just breathing. It made it easy for him to pick out the footsteps again. He closed his eyes and could put each set to the faces he saw that day. The frantic ones were his . Light and nimble like he had done it a million times over (he probably had). Then came the louder, more annoying ones with one set leading the front and two trailing behind him. He could still see their faces.
Iwai stood up, making sure that his store's door was unlocked. He rounded the corner and imagined the boy crashing through, and he’d there to catch him, while he barked at the others until they left. And the boy would politely give his thanks in the form of a deep, trained bow or a message typed up on his phone or probably both. He would smile a genuine smile and Iwai would be absolved of the guilt that had been weighing on him since the first day.
But the shadows of his vision blew past his door yet again. This time there was a crash. And the footsteps stopped. The sound of bikes falling on top of each other. More yelling. And more laughing.
Don't get involved. Don't get involved.
He heard a thud and then a smack.
Don't get involved.
He heard more cackling.
Don't get involved
He heard a whimper.
He walked out of the shop.
Don't get involved.
“Leave him alone!” he growled.
Two were holding the boy’s arms, the other was throwing his fists into his stomach. The boy lifted his face in Iwai's direction, lips pressed together suppressing a whimper and one eye closed off to the blood dripping from his forehead.
“See you at school, Amamiya,” the aggressor spat, putting his fists into his pocket, and walked away while the other two dropped ‘Amamiya’ unceremoniously to his knees.
“Shit, kid,” Iwai fell to his side, helping to hold him up. The kid offered a weak smile and tried to brush Iwai off. But when he motioned to stand, the ache in his head made him wobble. Iwai glanced over his shoulders before he led him back into the store. The boy didn't resist.
Inside, Iwai led him to his back office and guided him to a seat. He grabbed a nearby rag to press against the bleeding spot on his forehead and huffing an apology when the boy winced.
“Hold this” Iwai ordered, his heart sinking when the boy wordlessly complied. He could feel the kid’s eyes blankly follow Iwai’s movements as he grabbed the first aid kit.
“Alright, let me see,” Iwai ordered once again, cleaning the wound and appreciating the kid just letting him. This wouldn’t relieve him of his guilt, but it helped.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
The boy wrapped his arms around his stomach, the answer being yes, but shook his head anyways.
Iwai sighed, continuing to disinfect the parts of his face that were starting to split, ignoring the boy grinding his teeth against the stinging pain.
When the silence grew thick and Iwai could do no more, he leaned back against the wall with his arms crossed to give him room.
“Just bullies?” He asked.
Those same shaking hands dug into his uniform pocket, fishing out his phone to type up his reply. It was slow, but Iwai was patient.
“I just transferred here. About two months ago”
Iwai scoffed after reading the message, “Picking on the new kid?”
“Something like that”
“Do your parents know about this?”
The boy looked down at the screen in his hands but didn’t type a thing. He pressed his lips together as if he was weighing his pros and cons to tell Iwai his story and he clasped his hands over the screen. He looked to Iwai and opened his mouth to speak but closed his mouth when no words came out. He looked pained and frustrated and he could only shake his head again to answer. He surrendered to typing on his phone again.
“They sent me here to live with someone else. And, I’m not supposed to cause any trouble.”
“What about teachers? Do they know?” Iwai pressed, even though he already knew the answer.
“They don't believe me. And I can’t fight back.”
“Why can’t you fight back?”
“Bad things happen if I try to fight back.”
And he left it at that without any elaborations.
“What's your name? I heard them call you Amamiya?” Iwai changed the subject for the kid’s benefit.
“Ren Amamiya”
“I’m Munehisa Iwai.” Iwai pushed himself off the wall and paced from one end of the room to the other fighting an internal battle and Amamiya just watched him. Iwai straightened his back, finding his resolve. “You come here after school if you need, okay?”
Amamiya smiled at him. Genuinely this time.
The next time Amamiya showed up he actually brought a friend with him. Unlike Amamiya, the friend was loud, impulsive, and boorish, but Iwai was happy he was making friends now. His face was healing, and the bullies seemed to stop coming.
He got a cat too.
One day they bought one of Iwai’s rare model guns and the loud friend whispered something about it looking real.
Iwai dragged his hands down his face, wondering if this was something he should get involved in. He looked at Amamiya, at the fading scars on his lip, and the lightening circles around his eyes, before waving him over. “Hey kid, lemme talk to you for a sec.”
Amamiya complied, as Iwai expected. Dropping his voice, Iwai asked, “You’re not bringing these to school, are you? You said you’re not supposed to cause trouble.”
Amamiya shook his head and patted Iwai on the shoulder assuredly. Iwai wasn’t sure if he believed him, but whatever the kid had going on, if he needed Iwai’s help, he would get involved.
Since then, Amamiya would visit with more friends, and made more purchases. He seemed happier, more confident, and more determined. It was as if a mask he wore shattered and the person he was now was his truest self.
If the kid could learn to be his true self, maybe Iwai could too. That night Iwai returned home to his son, takeout already ordered and placed on their dinner table.
“Hey Kaoru… we need to talk.”