Chapter 37 : Jin Horagasaki
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Monologue of Jin Horagasaki
I never had a mother. She passed away shortly after I was born due to illness, and from then on, I was raised by my father. However, my father was an incredibly strict person. With no mother around, he always emphasized that men had to be strong.
My father, being what you might call a big shot in the corporate world, was hardly ever at home. Consequently, I had to handle basic household chores by myself.
To become the kind of person I was told to be - strong - I needed to build trust. During elementary school, I was considered a top student, in a position similar to what you might call the "class ace" nowadays, like Hirata or Ichinose. But being relied upon by everyone came with heavy responsibilities. I felt stressed in those days, burdened by the pressure of meeting my father's expectations. I kept questioning myself: Is this really who I am? Is this truly what I wanted to do? Inside, I was constantly questioning.
One day, I got into a fight with some students at school. The reason? It seemed they didn't like the fact that I excelled academically, received praise from teachers, and was admired by everyone else. I was outnumbered and beaten up. It hurt. It was then that I realized I didn't want to be the obedient, top student anymore.
In what seemed like a counterattack, I fought back against the boys who attacked me, and the result was my overwhelming victory. Despite never having practiced martial arts or fighting, I was able to overpower five opponents. I learned to defend myself. I had hoped that by becoming strong in this way, my father would finally acknowledge me.
But reality was cruel.
*SMACK!*
"Jin, do you even understand what you've done?"
As soon as I got home, my father yelled at me.
Why?
Did I do something wrong?
"You, you're just worthless! Seems like I've raised you wrong. I was in an important meeting with business partners, and you're calling me out for something so trivial!"
I was slapped and punched by my father.
Rumors spread at school that the class's popular kid was incredibly violent, and I lost my place. I ended up spending my days alone.
Why?
Did I do something wrong?
Didn't I just defend myself?
Why am I not being acknowledged?
I've had enough.
Since that day, I have lost all motivation. I started skipping classes in junior high. I became a delinquent, dyeing my hair brown, getting piercings, avoiding studying, and staying out late. I used to live according to my father's expectations when I was in elementary school, but it all changed from then on. I couldn't bear living such a ridiculous life anymore. My strict father even came to school once to discuss my future.
"What are you planning to do by dropping your grades like this?"
"You idiot, I know without you telling me. I'm not going to high school."
"Um, Jin, haven't you talked to your father about this?"
At that time, I was probably so uncontrollable that even teachers couldn't handle me. Despite being advised by my teacher about my future, my father continued to shout at me in his usual strong tone.
"Our problem should be discussed between us, not in school."
"But who brought this problem to school?"
"Don't mess with me!"
"You're the one messing around!"
Even though the teacher intervened, my father and I clashed.
"You're going to high school! Stop fooling around and become a decent adult! This school boasts a 100% employment rate, so your future is practically set! "
"So you're saying if I go to that school, everything will be easy?"
"Yes, exactly! You'll work under a big company! "
"Are you an idiot? Do you really think your son can work under someone? Well, it's fine with me."
"Y-you! Stop insulting your parents!"
"That's great, isn't it?"
We ended up causing trouble in the staff room. It was a typical rebellious phase in junior high, a shameful memory now, but I spent my days fighting, my grades dropping. Looking back, I misunderstood what strength was.
"Oh, you're Jin Horagasaki from Middle School, huh?"
"Yeah, so what? You wanna start a fight? I'm not in the mood, so you might end up dead."
"Good, give me your best shot."
I'd be harassed like that, and I'd punch and kick. I believed that "violence is strength," or... I thought so. I'd knock down whoever came at me, over and over again, during my middle school years.
"P-please... don't kill me..."
"Hah, you're too weak. You're gonna act tough in front of me?"
"Ugh..."
After beating them up, my opponents would always shrink back and flee. No, I would intimidate them, threaten them, make sure they never came near me again. That was my way.
....
One day, I saw a girl about my age being harassed by delinquents, so I beat up the ones bothering her. I hadn't intended to help, but I couldn't ignore the scared girl. She ended up thanking me, understanding what strength was supposed to be. At least, that's what I convinced myself.
Crash, snap, crunch.
"Help... help..."
Crunch, snap.
"Guhh... stop..."
Snap, crunch.
"You're going too far, man!"
"Shut up and stay back, girl."
Snap, crunch, crash.
"Guboo... please..."
Squish, snap.
The girl I saved desperately grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away from the guys I was beating up.
"Stop...! Stop it! These people are seriously injured! If you keep going, they'll die! Enough already! Violence is absolutely not the answer!"
"Huh? This wimp is scared of getting hurt and picking a fight with me?"
"Do you really think violence equals strength...?"
"Hah, a man ain't worth anything if he ain't strong."
"No... that's not it! You're definitely strong, but that's not real strength! Truly strong people don't do things like this!"
At that time, I didn't understand. Why? I helped her, didn't I? What's the difference? I would've been beaten up if I hadn't intervened.
"Are you serious? You were almost attacked, right?"
"It was scary, yes... but what scared me more was seeing you enjoying beating people up!"
"Huh? Are you trying to pick a fight with me?"
I must have been hot-headed back then. What she said wasn't wrong. But of course, at that time, I couldn't possibly understand such things. I had been looming over her, intimidating her, but that girl, she didn't hesitate to stand up to me. No, she was definitely trembling, but she still faced me with a gentle smile.
"You see, strength isn't determined by fighting. If you have the power to protect others, that's strength. It's about comforting those who are in pain, helping those in need, and responding when someone relies on you. Knowing what's right and what's wrong. That's true strength. What you're doing now is wrong."
"...Shut up and get lost."
To me, that girl seemed as bright as the sun. From someone who had walked down a dark path for so long, her presence was probably scary. But I haven't seen that girl since then. I don't even know her name. She was probably from the local middle school, judging by her uniform. All I remember is that she had long pink hair.
A few weeks later, the incident that would change me happened. When I got home, the front door was open. It's usually closed. He must be home. As I headed to the living room, I found my father dead. Yes, it was suicide. He was fired, but it wasn't like he was framed or anything. It seemed he was caught embezzling, and with nowhere to go, no one hiring him, life became unbearable for my father. He hung himself in the living room. And of course, I was the first one to find him. But strangely, I didn't feel any sadness. I just thought one thing incessantly.
"Haha... What does it mean to become a strong person?"
I still hate him, my father. When he found himself in a bad situation, he chose to die and escape. Nothing good comes from scum. What that girl said was right.
It's the same at school. Because of the one mistake my father made, people talk behind my back, and I'm left alone. Of course, it would be a lie to say I don't resent my father. But what good does it do to resent someone who's already dead?
But everyone around me just keeps drifting away, or maybe... maybe I'm the one pushing them away. It's here that I finally realize the fragility of my own heart. The real me was just an irredeemably weak person.
Filled with doubts about how to live, I somehow managed to make it to high school. Should I have just worked instead? I still can't find an answer.
This school questions people's status, and true strength is demanded. Only the A-class students can pursue their desired career paths. But I choose to simply enjoy school life. I hope for a school where I can spend peaceful and happy days, and I search for the truth in what the person who taught me kindness and strength said—whether it was not a mistake.
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