Exploration of Self - Part Three

“Suki! Breakfast!” I heard the sound of my mother’s voice call up the stairs to me. That was it, two words. On a typical day this was all I would get. Depending on what she actually made me, there might be more, but not much.

I didn’t react immediately; it wouldn’t be any better eating it warm. She didn’t put any heart into her cooking, especially not for me. Not like Haru. Instead, I decided to finish the chapter of the manga he lent me.

I could tell Haru was surprised that I liked Demon Kanojo so much, it was probably just because I was a girl, and girls didn’t usually go for ecchi battle manga, especially not harem ones. But this series had immediately captivated me from the very first volume for a few reasons.

I doubted Haru would ever agree, but the main character of Demon Kanojo was a lot like him. He was perverted but also kind and genuinely cared about all of his friends. Additionally, I hadn’t been lying to him when I told him I found all the girls very pretty, the artwork was extremely good. I could tell just by looking that the mangaka had a very deep appreciation and love for female bodies of all shapes and sizes, because each and every one of them was inked with such tender love and care, and they all had uniquely beautiful figures.

Of course, the jokes in the series were genuinely funny, and its sense of comedic timing was on-point. Not only that, but the battle scenes were also epic, tense, and well-framed. But the biggest reason I had been so taken by the manga, enough that I was already on the twelfth volume Haru had lent me, was one particular character, Midori. She wasn’t the titular demonic girlfriend of the main character, but the childhood friend who had always loved him. The reason I identified with this character wasn’t just the obvious fact that I had loved Haru since the end of middle school but also because she had a scar on her face, just like me. In spite of this, she never let it hold her back.

“Suki! Hurry!” Oh, so it would be four words today, huh? Counting the number of words my mother said to me throughout the day had become a secret little game of mine. It was morbid, sure, but it dulled the pain of her neglect somewhat.

I sighed and set the manga down gingerly on my sheets. I crawled out of bed and decided to go downstairs and at least eat the things I could. When I emerged into the kitchen a familiar scene awaited me. My mother standing at the sink, her back turned to me, staring out the window and doing the dishes; a small table with four empty chairs and a single place-setting; and a single meager, half-hearted meal. Today was grilled salmon and toast. The salmon was slightly burned, and by contrast the toast looked like it hadn’t been in the toaster long enough. Probably just warm bread, and it was the only thing on the plate that wouldn’t make my stomach feel like it was on fire.

“I’m not hungry,” I said. I might have just taken the toast and run back up into my room without a word on any other morning, but for some reason today I wasn’t having it. I had just got done reading a chapter of the manga where the main character stood up for himself to an oppressive villain, maybe it was that.

“You need to stop being so picky,” my mother scolded, “fish is good for you and you’re thin as a twig. You can’t afford to be skipping meals.” Again, any other day and this might have been where it ended. I would have cut my losses and eaten the bread at least. But not today.

“How would you know?” I asked and immediately felt a rush of heat surge up through my body. My ears grew hot.

My mother froze, “What did you say?” her tone betrayed that she was not pleased.

“How would you know? You haven’t seen me in five years.” I didn’t wait to hear her reaction. I turned around and stormed back up the stairs. Part of me wanted to hear my mother call after me, to yell and get upset, to chase me up to my room and bang on the door after I closed it. I would have preferred an angry mother with a short temper to a mother who just ignored me and my needs.

But as I slammed the door behind me, my mother spared no more words. Thirty-three was apparently her limit today. It was way more than I usually got, but I had to literally drag them out of her, so I didn’t feel like giving her any credit for that. The anger I was feeling gave way to immediate and horrible despair.

Why did she treat me like this? What was so wrong with me that she just wanted to ignore me? I asked myself that, but I knew the answer. It didn’t take a genius. She only started acting this way after the fire. After I got my scars. She used to call me “Tenshi” because I was as beautiful as an angel. After that day, she never called me that again.

My eyes drifted to my bed, to two objects side by side. These two things brought warmth to my heart. My phone and the manga. I used to hate my phone, having to carry it around even though nobody called, and nobody sent messages. But it was different now. Somebody called, and somebody sent messages, and he was the love of my life. And the manga was the first thing we shared together, our first common interest.

“My beloved Haru-kun,” I said out loud, absently and smiled. It had been over a week since I had shown him my scars, and I had been paralyzed with the fear that my nightmare would come true and after seeing the burns he would break up with me. When it became clear that wouldn’t happen, I feared he might at least start to treat me differently, but he didn’t do that either. He kept on being the same Haru I fell in love with.

And I was glad that he made me promise to watch him as he first reacted, because his guess that I would have tormented myself over the unknown was absolutely on-point. Instead, I could assert with confidence that he did not find me hideous or ugly. He had been surprised when he first saw it, but I didn’t fault him for that.

I looked at the rarely used standing mirror in the corner. Well, it wasn’t completely true that he didn’t treat me any differently, he did call me “cute” or “pretty” a lot more, and especially when talking to other people about me. That was an acceptable change, though, and I didn’t think he was lying just to make me feel better either. I was good at picking up on that stuff. Pity was an old rival I was intimately familiar with.

On a whim, I went to my desk and grabbed a hair-tie and pulled my hair into a ponytail. That day on our first date, he said he liked my hair done up like this. I turned back to the mirror.

I could only see a monster.

I frowned and shivered. I almost pulled my hair back down, but when I looked away from the reflective surface my gaze landed on the manga. On the cover of volume twelve was Midori, a close-up of her face. The scar over her right eye was prominently displayed, yet she had a look of quiet determination.

Midori was like me, but she was brave. She was confident. She was strong. Nothing like me.

... my girlfriend is the bravest girl around…

Haru’s words from our date came to me in that moment. I blinked. I wanted to be brave, like he said I was. I wanted to live up to what he said. I slowly turned my head back to the mirror. It was no use, I could still only see the hideous thing standing in my place, the deformed wretched thing.

... you’re beautiful, Suki-chan…

I was on the verge of tears. Why couldn’t I see it? Why couldn’t I just look at myself and be happy!? It wasn’t fair!

I looked away again at my bed this time. I looked to the phone and the manga, my two reminders that I was loved. As I kept staring at the manga cover, I noticed something that I hadn’t noticed before. Midori wasn’t just looking determined, there was a slight smile on her lips. It was like she was gazing directly at me with a look that said, “you can do it, I believe in you”.

I knew what I needed to do. I needed to do what Midori would do.

I sent a text to Haru telling him I was coming over early. Without me even needing to bring up what happened with my mother, he asked if I had eaten yet. I replied that I hadn’t. I could count on him to make something delicious that wouldn’t hurt me.

After that, I went about getting myself properly ready. I gathered up my school supplies and descended the stairs after getting dressed. I didn’t say anything as I walked by the kitchen to head out the door. My plate still sat on the lonely table, untouched.

When the door opened after I rang the doorbell, the love of my life appeared in its frame. The slightly taller boy with a thin frame and kind green eyes under a messy mop of short, dark blue hair. Actually, he wasn’t quite as skinny as he had been when we first started dating, he must have been taking his gym class much more seriously because he had been filling out his uniform a bit more. He was wearing the same apron he had been wearing the first time I came to visit, which meant he was cooking.

When he saw me, he had a surprised look, and it wasn’t difficult to understand why. I had not pulled my hair out of the ponytail yet. He could see my face, all of it.

“S-Suki-chan?” he stuttered, blinking.

“Yes?” I asked, my cheeks hot.

“You look stunning today,” Haru said, grinning. It didn’t matter how many times he complimented me, it never failed to send a warm rush through my body. Then his eyes drifted downward to my cleavage for a split second, he probably didn’t think I noticed. I did. I noticed it every single time. Even the first time when I stood beside him in the kitchen to watch him prepare our bentos.

I knew it wasn’t especially proper for a girl to feel this way, but I loved when he looked at my chest like that. He had no idea that every time he did that, it healed some of the emotional scars I got every time someone at school called me a “stick-with-tits”. That nickname only ever bothered me because my breasts made me feel like I was a disproportional freak. But each time Haru looked at them, even if it was with a perverted face, it reminded me that it didn’t matter because my beloved liked them.

“You’re staring,” I reminded him.

“Ah, sorry, come in!”

“Is your dad here today?”

“I sure am,” a voice that sounded a lot like Haru’s but deeper and more husky. “Good morning, Kaneko-san. Good to see you again.” Kenta Sato was seated at the table in a typical fatherly fashion with a newspaper in hand and a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. The comfortable-looking robe he wore and the stubble on his chin told me he likely wasn’t planning on going in to work today.

Haru looked a lot like his father, though the latter’s age was more apparent. Even still, he seemed to have aged gracefully. Very few grey hairs speckled his dark blue hair and his eyes sparkled a youthful shade of amber brown. The eyes were the biggest detail that set the two apart, frankly, I could imagine Haru growing up to look a lot like his father one day. Which was something of a victory, because Kenta Sato was certainly a handsome man.

I bowed deeply, “Thank you again for having me in your household.”

He waved a hand dismissively, “I told you last time, this tiny apartment isn’t worthy of being called something as esteemed as a ‘household’. And besides, since you’ll be the one bearing my future grandchildren, you’re basically family.”

“Dad! I told you not to talk like that around her, it’s very rude,” Haru objected, blushing even more than I was and brandishing a spatula at the older man. “However, I agree, you’re welcome here anytime, Suki-chan.”

The older Sato just laughed and dropped the newspaper down long enough to give me a wink. When he did that, he must have caught sight of my face, because his eyes widened for a brief moment before he returned the paper to its original position. The reaction was subtle, but it was there, and I noticed.

I also noticed Haru looking at me with a mixed expression. It seemed on the one hand he was happy and proud of me for wearing my hair like this, with the scars on my face totally exposed; but on the other hand, he was very concerned about what might happen when we got to school. I likely would have felt the same if I were in his shoes. Frankly, the fact that he was happy at all was enough.

I sat down at the table and waited for our breakfast. When it arrived, I ate it heartily. It was omelet rice again, reminding me of our date. That day had been very strange. It was wonderful to be near Haru in any context that wasn’t school, but it was very terrifying. In the end, however, it was a very important experience for me. It was the first time since the fire that I felt like things would be okay, looking forward. I was through the worst of it, I had a boyfriend who truly loved me in spite of my hideous scars, and that was all that mattered.

We didn’t eat our meal in silence, since my conversation with Sato-san had been very brief during our first meeting, he used this opportunity to ask me many different questions. He asked me about my academics, about my hobbies, and about my goals for the future. Mercifully, he did not ask any questions about my home life, I wasn’t sure I would be able to do so without getting upset, especially after what happened with my mother this morning.

I wondered if Haru had told his father not to bring it up, perhaps correctly guessing it was a sensitive subject. I would have to confirm it and thank him later. I would have gladly talked to Haru himself about those things, but nobody else.

“Well, you have good grades, you don’t have any strange hobbies—aside from the manga but at least you share that in common with Haru, and it sounds like you have a pretty solid plan for your future. I can only wholeheartedly approve of my son dating you,” Sato-san said, and I felt a wave of relief. “In fact, I’m so on board that I’m willing to threaten Haru with eviction if he doesn’t treat you right. Don’t mess this up, kid!”

Haru blushed and scratched the back of his head bashfully, avoiding eye-contact with either of us.

I shook my head, “Haru-kun has been more than wonderful, sir. He hasn’t treated me with anything less than complete respect and love.”

“Would ya get a load of that, Haru?” Sato-san grinned at his son. “If your mother was around, she’d be so proud of you. She was really big on the romance stuff. By the way, Kaneko-chan, there’s no call for that ‘sir’ nonsense. Just call me Ken.”

I nodded, “Ken-san then.”

“I’ve already told you that you should treat this place like a second home, and I mean it, okay? I don’t just give away that right casually. Haru hasn’t spoken much about your past and present circumstances, and I’m not the kind of guy to pry, but I’m good at reading between the lines with these things. I can tell that you’ve had a rough time of it. So, anytime you need a safe place to stay, don’t hesitate to come over.” Sato-san said, his tone suddenly serious. I could see hints of Haru in this offer, it was easy to see that the younger Sato got his generosity from his father.

“I agree,” Haru nodded, “I’ll even give you dad’s contact info, in case of emergencies.”

“Call me anytime,” Sato-san nodded.

I felt a warmth well up inside me, a strange comfort. It was a stark contrast to the coldness and indifference I got from my mother earlier. It was a far cry from the bare minimum. Was… was this what it was like to have a family? One that cared about you and appreciated you? I couldn’t help the tears that began to stream down my cheeks.

“Kaneko-chan?”

“Suki-chan? Are you alright?” Both of them expressed concern over the display, their faces turning serious in the exact same way.

“I’m fine,” I said, waving a hand, my voice shaky, “I’m just… I’m just so happy.”

I didn’t let my hair down when I reached school, but I had my hand firmly gripped in Haru’s the whole time. I had expectations of raucous laughter, of fingers pointed, of new and terrible nicknames. These visions kept me almost paralyzed with fear at the gate outside of the school, and I even had my head buried in Haru’s chest for at least five minutes.

This was completely different from when I had revealed my scars to him, at least I knew that if Haru found me hideous he would have been kind. But there was no guarantee from my fellow students. They had always been at best indifferent to me, and at worst bullies. My scars would only serve to potentially add fuel to their fires.

Eventually, I worked up my courage and stepped forth, once again it was that dumb cover of the manga appearing in my mind that drove me forward, it was Midori that gave me the strength to take the first step.

The end result was not as bad as I had thought. In stark contrast to what I expected, I was met with shock, of course, but there was no cruelty. There was no name-calling, no pointing, no laughing. In fact, I was surprised by the fact that three separate individuals came to me and expressed how pretty I looked, one of them agreeing with Haru that I should wear my hair like this more often. One girl even asked Haru if he got a new girlfriend and was genuinely shocked when it was revealed that I was the same girl from before.

I was in complete disbelief. I even had Haru pinch me to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. On the whole, nobody cared, and those that did care were happy for me or even thought I was pretty. Could they not see the scars?

Still, it wasn’t all positivity, there was one stain on this otherwise uplifting experience.

Hana Sumire.

It was unlikely that Haru knew, but Sumire was not only responsible for continually bullying me, but she was also the very source of it in the first place. She had been the one to suggest the “Sadako-chan” nickname, and it caught on like wildfire only after she spread it to the whole middle-school we attended. The other nickname, “stick-with-tits” had been the brainchild of her boyfriend at the time. He was not nearly as clever as Sumire; which, in retrospect, was likely why Sumire had dumped him in the end.

Today, Sumire had completely ignored me at first, but the reason for that became clear as soon as I took my seat in class. Once she realized whose seat I was sitting in, she became relentless, saying things like, “the monster got a makeover” and “Sadako on date-night” mostly to her friends/cronies. She would whisper these things between classes, and as I heard the giggles she would get from these jokes, my mood plummeted ever further.

Haru did not look happy. I sat three seats behind him, so I could see the way he would seethe silently each time he heard the low explosion of giggles from the gyaru gang. To his credit, he didn’t say or do anything, and that was good. I didn’t want him to. I knew the risk going into this. Even still, each time it hurt like an icepick being driven into my chest. The contrast of the positive reactions I had gotten earlier only serving to make the despair worse.

Finally, lunch rolled around, so my torment would be alleviated somewhat by Haru’s bento. But there was no peace even then, as Sumire and her gang did not leave, and instead only became worse without the teacher to glare at them. Honda and Ishibumi were not present, and like usual the class representative wasn’t here. So it was only Haru and I, eating in silence with no authority figure to intervene.

Haru was aggressively wielding his chopsticks in a way that made it absolutely clear that every second of this was very upsetting. At several moments I gripped his hand firmly in mine, and it wouldn’t occur to me until later that even though I did this to try and calm his nerves, he likely interpreted it as me needing support for the **** I was suffering.

“Koko-chan, what did you bring?” Sumire asked her friend, peering over into her bento. “Oh, that looks good! Maybe we ought to share it like Sadako-chan and her date over there.” The group erupted into giggles. If there was any silver lining to this situation it was that the rest of the class seemed disturbed by what they were doing, or were otherwise at least annoyed by it. But nobody could say a word and for a good reason.

Sumire was on the disciplinary committee. Not only was she a member, but she was also the vice-president. Nobody was going to lodge a complaint against her of all people. To top it off, she was the class representative’s friend since childhood. Nepotism would make sure that even if anyone complained it would fall on deaf ears.

“Oh! Nomi-chan you’ve got some good-looking hamburger there. Actually,” Sumire suddenly stopped, getting a look that seemed to indicate that she had an idea, “doesn’t that remind you guys of something?”

“What do you mean?” one of her friends asked, I believed her name was Kokoro Takahashi.

Sumire tilted her head in my direction, a wide grin on her cheeks, “Looks a lot like makeover monster, right? Maybe we should start calling her hamburger-face.”

This comment made me hyper-aware of my scars, and without meaning to I reached my hand up to cover the left side of my face. Up until now they had avoided commenting on my scars. I was beginning to believe that even Sumire had limits. Apparently, I was wrong. Tears crept out of my eyes. She was right, after all, I was a hideous monster.

That was evidently the last straw for Haru. With a clattering bang, he stood up from his seat and whirled around to look at the group.

“Excuse me,” he began in the calmest voice he could clearly manage, “you are disturbing our lunch, would you mind keeping it down?”

The group turned to look at him, momentarily stunned into silence.

“And furthermore, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t call Suki-chan names like that.”

“Oh?” Sumire stood up as well. “And just what are you going to do about it, Prince Charming?”

“This,” Haru said, “I’m politely asking you to stop.”

“Haru-kun,” I whispered and tugged on the back of his shirt. I didn’t want him to put himself out there for me. It wasn’t fair to him.

Sumire crossed the classroom aisle and stopped in front of him, “And what are you gonna do if I refuse, Mr. Tough-Guy? Gonna report me? To who? The class rep? The disciplinary committee?” Sumire’s cronies thought this was hilarious, as they all laughed. Sumire herself had a victorious grin on her glossed lips.

Haru’s hand was clenched into a fist. It was shaking.

Sumire must have noticed this, because next she said, “Maybe you’re gonna hit me? Gonna beat me into submission? Maybe you and Hamburger-face are meant for each other after all. I bet you tenderize her meat every night, don’t you? Just beat her into submission like the scum you are, huh?”

Blood trickled down from his palm.

“No, you’re not like that are you? You’re one of the pervert trio, I bet you make her do all kinds of fucked up stuff in the bedroom, huh? I bet the only reason you’re dating is cuz you **** yourself on her and brainwashed her. No way a loser like you could get a girlfriend otherwise.”

Sumire was taking this way too far, and I was growing worried. If this kept up for much longer, Haru just might have taken a swing at her. What did she even hope to gain from this? Why was she taunting him so much? Did she want him to do something drastic?

Then, suddenly, Haru’s hand relaxed completely. Something in the air around him shifted, he suddenly grew much more relaxed, inexplicably. His expression must have changed, because Sumire’s own expression suddenly got shocked, and she actually recoiled.

“What the fuck? What the fuck is with that look? Don’t you fucking dare look at me like that you fucking disgusting pig!” Sumire screamed, suddenly. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll fucking kill you! I know people!”

“Hana-chan!” another voice sounded from the doorway to the classroom behind me. I whirled around to see Fumiko Ando standing there. The class representative crossed the floor to Sumire and, without warning, slapped her friend across the face.

Once again, Sumire’s face was one of shock, and she was stunned into silence as a red welt began to appear on her cheek.

“We are third-years, Hana-chan. We’re going to university next year.” Ando’s tone was one of exasperation mixed with pained firmness. “We’ve been friends for how many years now? I’ve said so many nice things about you to so many people. I have defended you to them. And now I find out they were right. How am I supposed to feel about that Hana-chan? It’s like the past ten years have been a lie. There’s no other explanation after hearing you say such disgusting things to my friend and especially his girlfriend! Sato-san came to me the other day and expressed just how worried he was about the bullying Suki-chan was receiving, and I told him I’d do everything I could to help out. To think it was my own childhood friend and a member of the disciplinary committee.”

Sumire had no response, she merely continued to stare wide-eyed at the class representative, a state shared by everyone in the room. It was clear she had not expected Ando to be listening in on this, and it was clear Sumire was a very different person when Ando was around.

“You need to grow up,” Ando said, finally, with tears in her eyes. Then the copper-haired girl turned around and stormed out of the classroom, drawing everyone’s attention to the fact that she hadn’t been alone in the classroom’s doorway. Another girl stood there, imposingly. Unlike the class representative, this girl walked calmly and slowly into the classroom, and leveled a heavy gaze on Sumire.

She was well known in the school, Nami Himeshima. The shocked expression of Sumire suddenly held a note of fear now, and it was easy to know why. Himeshima was tall, she was fit, and had an intimidating gaze. Her mother was a judo black-belt, and Himeshima herself was a two-time regional champion in kendo, she had spent the first two years of her high school career in the kendo club before becoming the disciplinary committee president.

“Hana Sumire-san,” Himeshima began, “Ando-san and I were outside of the classroom this whole time, listening in on what you’ve been saying. I happened to be walking by when I heard raised voices and decided to have a look. Ando-san came by not long after. We heard everything.”

“Nami-chan,” Sumire replied, weakly.

Himeshima shot her an intense glare, one that conveyed without words that such a familiar name would no longer be acceptable, before continuing, “I wholeheartedly accept this outburst from you as an official resignation from the disciplinary committee. I am doing you a favor by not outright removing you, as voluntary resignation will look better in your records. Don’t **** my hand.” She seemed to have no more words for Sumire, as she instead turned her attention to Haru and me.

She first addressed Haru, “I apologize on behalf of the committee for the actions of my former vice-president, I hope that this will not sour your opinion of the committee nor its dedication to enforcing Yuki Academy’s policies.”

Haru didn’t even turn to look at Himeshima, “It’s fine.” His reply was distant, and his gaze was still fixed on Sumire, but his tone was soft and thoughtful.

Then she stepped toward me, and knelt down, supplicating herself before me, “As for you, I know that mere apologies will not suffice, even still, I am deeply sorry for the torment Sumire-san’s actions have caused. Are you okay?” Though she normally was so composed and stalwart, her eyes held a surprising amount of softness and care as she asked this.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and replied, “I’ll be alright.”

Himeshima nodded and stood up, “Please do not hesitate to contact me if your **** continues after this day.” Her attention once again turned to the stunned gyaru, “Sumire-san, you may come by headquarters to pick up your personal belongings at your earliest convenience.” Then she walked out of the classroom.

Sumire stood there for a few seconds before storming out as well, giving Haru a fierce glare of hatred as she did. Haru returned the gaze with one of his own, an expression that was strange but absolutely sincere. It didn’t make sense, though, and while I somehow understood that it must have been the expression that shocked and angered Sumire so much, I didn’t really understand why it would have gotten that reaction from her, nor even why Haru would have that expression in the first place.

As Sumire slammed the sliding door to the classroom, Haru looked after her with his brilliant green eyes that held an expression of absolute and heartbreaking pity.