Chapter 5:
Changing Jobs in Another World, But Everything's Too Specific
Haruto winced in pain, the rock thrown bloodying his nose. It wasn't many, but some of the other boys didn't like him in school. As they got older, the number grew, being pulled into the group by their leader. At twelve years old, he was cornered and surrounded behind the school.
"Gonna cry, 'Blue Eyes'?" The bully laughed as the blood came from Haruto's nose. "Why don't you take your mom and go back to America?"
"I was born here..." Haruto said quietly.
"What'd you say? Huh?" He punches Haruto in the face, knocking him back into the wall.
Haruto pushed off the wall as quickly as his back hit it, tackling him to the ground. As he pinned the boy, Haruto’s anger welled up inside. Why should he have to hide? Why should his face, his eyes, and his mother mark him as an outsider?
His mother always told him that if anyone should start a fight, he should finish it. It wasn't a spectacular fight. He didn't even win once the other boys joined in. But it should let them know he won't just sit and take it.
His father was called into the principal's office soon after. He was reminded multiple times that he had to leave work early because of it. The principal all but blamed Haruto for the fight.
"Maybe if he didn't try to stand out so much..." He told his father.
Trying to stand out? How was he “trying” anything? His eyes weren’t something he could just put away, no matter how much they wanted him to.
His father just continued bowing. "We'll make sure he knows from now on," he said.
Haruto loved and respected his father. He was sure that he would have his back. That was the first time he felt let down by him.
The second came days after on the next free day. Haruto was sat at the table for a talk. It was a small table, but his parents seemed so far away sitting on the other side of it. There was a small box in front of him.
"We both feel like this will help." His father said, a worried look on his face. "Maybe you can fit in better. You won't stand out as much."
"Don't feel like you have to wear them if you don't want to. You don't have to be anyone but you." His mother chimed in, trying to push back on his father's pressure.
As Haruto opened the box, his heart sank. The box contained a simple pair of brown-colored contacts. It was a simple solution. Change yourself to fit the society around you. The nail that sticks out gets hammered in.
Haruto’s stomach churned. These were supposed to help? To make things “easier”? It felt more like giving up. His mother’s eyes—the biggest part of her he saw in himself—now, even they weren’t right?
Haruto felt betrayed. The eyes he shared with his mother shouldn't need hiding. He could understand if he was ill-behaved or had a bad temper. But... His eyes... His face... He wasn't like everyone else, and his father thought he should be. At least that's how Haruto saw it.
With a lump in his throat, he took the contacts. He learned to wear them. He got less attention from girls, the boys left him alone, and that's what he was. Alone. With a weight on his eyes and on his heart.
The friendly and outspoken boy was replaced by a wallflower. He kept his head down. He fit in. Just like his father wanted.
The years went by, and at age sixteen, Haruto's mother got sick. His father was having a hard time paying the hospital bills, so Haruto quit school and joined the workforce. With both of them working, they could pay for his mother's treatment and still eke out a meager living.
Haruto would visit his mother, go to work, sleep, and do it all over again. Every evening, he walks into her hospital room, still wearing his brown contacts. She’s frail but smiling, always trying to be cheerful. Two more years would pass, and as her illness worsened, Haruto started to see the sadness behind her smile.
One evening, Haruto enters her room after a long day, ready to tell her about his new job. With it, the bills should be easier to pay, and she can get better care. He was so excited to be able to help more.
However, that day is different for some reason. As his mother starts crying, her body is wracked with weak sobs. Her hands were trembling as she reached out to him. He held her hand in his, warming her icy fingers.
"I'm sorry, Haruto. I wanted you to feel free," she says, looking up at him. "I wanted you to be yourself... you hide everything about yourself."
"Don't worry about that! It's fine," Haruto tried to tell her.
“I’m sorry, Haruto. I wish I could tell you that you could be anything, but…” Her breath got caught in her throat for a moment. "I guess you can't be yourself anymore... I’m so sorry. You must even hate your eyes now…”
Haruto’s heart wrenched. How could she think that? He didn’t hate them. He hated that he had to hide them. All he wanted was to show her his eyes, to tell her he’d never resented her or the part of her she’d given him.
Her breathing slowed. Haruto lays her hand on the bed. He let go for only a moment.
"No. I love my eyes! I love you!" Haruto says.
Haruto, ripping the contacts from his eyes, leans in close. He tries to give her a big smile. He wanted to let her know, let her see his eyes, but hers are already closed. Her chest no longer rises. Her hands no longer feel his warmth. Haruto felt nothing in that moment, his mind trying to adjust to this new reality.
As he staggered from the hospital room, he saw his father walking down the hall. He's carrying a bouquet of flowers. He seems genuinely happy to see Haruto, putting a skip in his step.
“Haruto!” His father says. Haruto looks up at him. His father's eyes widen slightly. “You’re not wearing your contacts?”
That was it. Six years of pent-up frustration and anger push themselves to the surface. Haruto's father could see it in those eyes. Haruto's fist connected with his father’s face before he even knew what happened. His father falls to the ground, stunned.
In that moment, he didn’t just hate his father; he hated himself too. His father’s expression, the same disappointment and quiet pressure he’d always known, cut him deeper than the sting of his own knuckles.
The shame and sadness sunk into Haruto just as fast. He didn't want to do that, but the comment about his contacts was too much for him. Without a word, Haruto ran from his father, disappearing into the Tokyo streets.
After that, he shut down. Emotionally and mentally. He dove into his job, burying himself under the weight of social expectations and the relentless march of daily life. He got new contacts. He became another salaryman, just like everyone else, disappearing into the crowd. Haruto, the real Haruto, faded away.
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