"Ryo, your phone."
Upon hearing the call, Ryo stood up from the corner of the room. Under the flickering fluorescent light, his dark eyes seemed to reflect a silvery glint, sharp enough to send a chill down the staff member's spine. Recalling the file of this boy who was even younger than his own son, the staff member averted his gaze and passed an old flip phone through the slot on the door.
"Thank you," Ryo said politely, taking the phone.
Most of the boys held here were delinquents or street punks, so hearing a "thank you" from one of them startled the staff member for a moment. He nodded and replied, "I'll collect it in thirty minutes."
Every evening, each detainee had thirty minutes to use their phone—whether to contact family, read news, or play simple games. For these energy-filled teens, it was the most anticipated and lively time of day. Even with walls separating them, Ryo could hear the excited cheers from neighboring rooms.
But compared to others' smartphones, Ryo's flip phone looked like a relic from twenty years ago. He flipped it open with his thumb—tiny screen above, a row of physical buttons below.
The small window on the door closed, leaving only the dim chandelier overhead flickering in the silence. Ryo sat on the bed, ready to text his sister.
Since she was still in the hospital and couldn't disturb other patients, they had agreed to communicate via text.
Before he could start, a message from Hotaru arrived. It must have been typed in advance, considering how long it was.
"Onii-chan."
Ryo smiled faintly. Though it was just a word on screen, he could almost hear her voice—clear and lively, the voice of a girl just starting puberty.
"The nurse came three times today, and the doctor four times. They said I'm doing great, nothing to worry about.
"But eating is still hard. I always feel like something's stuck in my throat, itchy and painful when I cough.
"Because my right hand has an IV, I eat with my left. The nurse offered to feed me, but I'm thirteen now, so I just eat slowly on my own.
"The nurse also helped me shower. They put a waterproof sleeve over my right hand where some kind of needle is inserted. They said my veins are too thin.
"Showering with one hand is uncomfortable, and I still hate washing my hair. Closing my eyes makes me nervous, so I rushed through it. I don't think I rinsed the shampoo well.
"Oh, and the hospital showers are prepaid. You insert a card, and it beeps while deducting credits. Watching the numbers drop is painful. That's another reason I hurried.
"I read some books today. Reading is easier than eating with one hand. I finished 'Fairy Tales' and started 'The Little Prince' in the afternoon.
"What did you do today, Onii-chan?"
Ryo quickly replied:
"Working at a client's house. You might remember him, the old man with a lot of facial hair who used to visit us."
Hotaru replied again, slowly typing with one hand, making frequent typos.
"I don't remember. When will you be back?"
"After the job's done, probably seven or eight days. Just focus on getting better. When I return, I want to see a healthy Hotaru."
"That's a long time..."
This was likely the longest they'd been apart in their lives. Both were used to each other's presence.
"It's just a week."
Ryo tried to sound soft and comforting. He wouldn't tell her that he was detained due to a bullying incident.
In truth, he knew his stay wouldn't be long. He had played the victim card and used the last of his family's connections to contact a senior who could help.
Had it not been for Hotaru's rising medical expenses, Ryo might have kept enduring the bullying without reacting.
School bullying is terrifying because it legitimizes piling on. Once a victim is marked, everyone joins in, feeling justified.
From his first year in junior high, Ryo was always the odd one out. Bullied students could be top scorers or the worst, male or female. The root cause was always the same: they didn't fit in.
Being excluded made one weak, and the weak became targets.
His bullying started when he rejected a class delinquent's offer to hang out. He disliked her perfume and garish lipstick. Humiliated in front of her friends, she took offense, and Ryo became a target.
Silent treatment didn't affect him—he wasn't social to begin with.
As for other bullying tactics:
Kicking over his lunchbox? He never brought lunch.
Dead mice in his desk? The basement had plenty of rats; even Hotaru wasn't fazed.
Graffiti on his books? That ended when his top test scores made his notes popular for copying.
When none of this worked, they resorted to violence.
Ryo couldn't fight five attackers at once. Instead, he adopted a strategy: always retaliate against one of them, even if it meant biting flesh.
It worked. The gang started falling apart when one couldn't handle being singled out.
Once someone pulled out, others began questioning why they had to suffer retaliation while others got off easy.
Gradually, the attacks stopped.
They switched to sneakier methods, like ambushes.
Ryo didn't want to escalate the situation—he knew his family's limits. He endured what he could.
Getting drenched in winter or hit with a soccer ball hurt, but he bore it.
Most bullying victims suffer psychological trauma more than physical. But Ryo focused on survival, not feelings.
Bullies prey on the weak, so he had to become strong.
Had Hotaru not fallen ill, he could've handled things.
But now, he had to act.
He once heard a joke: If you lose ¥10,000 to a phone scam, send ¥5 million more to make the police move faster.
He used to fear escalation, but now realized it might be the only solution.
His counterattack was so fierce that he ended up detained.
But the bullies were worse off—exposed during the school's 70th anniversary open day, caught red-handed.
He might get expelled, but compensation and hush money were likely.
Just then, Hotaru called.
She should've been resting, yet her voice was strong.
"Onii-chan, I'm in the bathroom, so I won't disturb others."
"Finished the IV?"
"Yeah, but my right hand still can't move much."
Their surroundings were quiet. Ryo could almost hear her breathing.
"It's so quiet on your side."
"I can see the stars here," she said.
Hotaru loved looking out windows since she was little.
"Do you remember where our names came from?" she suddenly asked.
"I think it was from a Tang poem by Du Mu."
"Yes, from 'Autumn Evening.'
'By silver candlelight, an autumn glow paints the screen, A silk fan flutters at drifting fireflies. On palace steps, night as cool as water, Lying down, watching Altair and Vega.'"
"But I've never seen a real firefly. There are none in the city!"
"Our fan at home only swats flies," she grumbled.
Ryo chuckled.
"I wonder if I'm looking at the same stars as in the poem."
"You can see them better on Tanabata," he replied.
Hotaru nodded.
"I read this today: 'Stars shine so that everyone may one day find their own star.'"
"But in legends, Altair and Vega belong only to each other. Isn't that a contradiction?"
Ryo was stumped.
"I think both are right," she said. "Stars have stars. People will meet the one who's their star."
"Get back to bed. It's cold."
After a pause, Ryo spoke gently.
She must have sensed something. She had acted strangely all evening.
"Okay. I'm going now."
She returned to her usual cheerful tone.
"Good night."
"Good night."
-------------------------------------
"Thank you very much."
Ryo bowed politely to the well-dressed elderly man in front of him. He was fully aware that without the man's intervention, not to mention the compensation, he himself might have been implicated far more severely.
He had still been too naive—the world wouldn't just bend to his wishes.
"It's alright. After all, you're Aki's family. Sentimentally and morally, I ought to look out for you," the old man said with a sigh. He knew that the Kitagawa family had undergone serious upheaval in recent years due to the sudden death of the eldest daughter, but he hadn't expected that only Ryo and Hotaru would be left.
"Have you considered joining our theatre troupe? Perhaps you have talent in that area too," the man offered. "Just like Aki."
With a glint of rare opportunity in his eyes, the man looked at Ryo. Just knowing that the boy was the younger brother of that genius actress made his breathing slightly heavier.
But he had spoken the name Ryo least wanted to hear.
"No, thank you. I'm getting by just fine as I am now."
Ryo smiled as he declined.
"I see. That's a real shame," the man murmured, snapping out of his brief reverie. He laughed at himself. Of course, actors like Aki didn't just appear every day.
He thought back to how the entire Kitagawa household had relied on their eldest daughter to make money, and how their parents had poured all their attention into her, leaving the other two children all but forgotten.
"Thank you! I truly appreciate your support of the Kitagawa family. If you ever consider working together, please contact the number on this card."
In his memory, the last time he saw Ryo was when the boy and his younger sister had followed behind their older sister, humbly handing out business cards and greeting passersby with subdued voices.
"Then, I'll be going."
"Yes. Take care," Ryo said.
Watching the elderly man walk off into the distance, Ryo took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind.
"Time to go to the hospital," he muttered to himself.
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