“Hashirigaki”

A Koko wa Greenwood vignette by Jop and Yen. All characters are owned by Yukie Nasu and in no way belong to us. But you knew that already, right? ^^

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My face twitches into an involuntary smile as some year ones pass me at the corridor. They smile back but nod uneasily before hurrying past, eager to head off in the other direction. Their muffled comments don’t reach me but I can easily guess what they’re saying. The words aren’t ones that I haven’t heard before but still, it pricks me a little inside every time suspicious and contemptuous expressions glance over faces of passer-bys.

Pink. The boy has pink hair.

Hugging my books tighter to me, I head out of the schoolyard and breathe in deeply. The clean piercing smell of winter is gradually giving way to the soft fragrance of spring with its small wildflowers and budding leaves. The days are still a little chilly, but lately it has started thawing out enough for me to wear my warmer shirts out with just a light jacket though.

Glancing around, I pause in my tracks, only to begin resuming my pace as a cold draft sweeps through the deserted yard, forcing me to steer quickly towards warmer areas and my intended destination. Fallen leaves protest feebly as I pass through them, crackling in my wake. I look at the traces of neglect by the gardeners and shake my head. At home, anybody not carrying their weight would have quickly found themselves at the wrong end of Mother’s tongue but here, where males paid little note to greenery, it was easy to allow nature to run rampant instead of squatting in the neatly patterned landscaped gardens which had long become one of the associated patterns of Japan.

I smile, marveling at its chaos and almost careless abandon. It would probably have shocked Mother but I actually preferred the garden this way. Took pleasure in the lopsided hedge, the unraked leaves, the scattered stones that resembled elements of a jigsaw puzzle gone wrong. It had a certain rustic charm about it. Just like the tree I was approaching.

But then again, perhaps what I was going to do next wouldn’t have shocked her. She was always a perceptive woman, skillfully managing the various hotels with a keen and discerning eye. A trait she extended towards her offspring. Leaving my books at the bottom of a particularly old and gnarled tree, experienced hands grasp skillfully at the hidden nooks and crannies of the old tree’s bark, avoiding the notch where hid an ant nest and the moss which could easily cause even the most experienced of hands to slip. Soon I find myself swinging over a large branch. Lying back against the old trunk, I take a moment to appreciate the silence.

I don’t have much silence in my life. Not that I don’t have anybody’s fault to blame for that but I’m a naturally exuberant person and silence discomfits me. Unless it’s shared by very good friends, but that was rare enough until Greenwood.

Still, there were times even with Suka-chan, Mitsuru-sempai and Shinobu-sempai that made me… lonely.  Now that Suka was spending more time with Igarashii, and Mitsuru-sempai and Shinobu-sempai had started to close their doors to prepare for their final year-end examination, where did that leave me? I sigh and pat the rough crusty branch with its softer glimmerings of green. I missed this. When I’d been young, climbing trees had been a part of me. I’d climbed all the trees in the compound at least once and they’d all been good friends of mine. The wind whispered their secrets through the branches and squirrels with their hoards of nuts had been easy to tease.

Those had been the days when tears and rips and missing shoes had been normal occurrences, the footwear normally found days later, dangling from a branch from one of the trees, forlorn and forgotten. Now, my clothes stayed clean and pristine, easy enough to do with regular laundering and neat stitches… especially considering my shopping trips. My face brightened, recollecting the loose orange pants I’d seen in the mall the other day. I would pick it up the next time I went back.

For a moment, the faces of the juniors I’d passed in the hallways a while ago flashed before my face and my smile faltered. I had been like them once… long ago. With short hair and rough ways, I’d have fit into the most “manly” crowd, and now, and now… only those who saw through the surface accepted me.

Yet still even then, from them I got comments about my “uniqueness”, just a euphemism for strange I knew. Everyone believes that it’s because of my parents, and my family’s tradition of matriarchy but it’s hard to explain it’s not when your existence jars the world view of almost everyone you meet. Girls cross-dressing is not accepted socially but most people merely nod their head in understanding behind closed doors, holding to the old values of “Boy first.” To have it reversed was merely unnatural and to them, I represented a break from tradition most weren’t willing to accept.

But how could it be a break when I wasn’t really trying to be a girl? My long pink hair was a nostalgic remembrance of nights when my mother had washed it and combed it and my fashion sense was just that – my fashion sense. If I looked like a girl because of it, well then, so be it. And if people thought my bubbly manner was more suited to a girl’s, well then, so be it too.

Or that was what I told myself. Again and again. It had been hard when my own parents had sat me down to have a “talk” with me one fateful day. It had been almost absurdly silly… and absurdly sad when I had noticed the level of their relief when I had reassured them that I wasn’t gay and was actually still interested in girls. Even then, it had taken my first heartbreak to satisfy them as to my sexuality. It was ironic that the saddest period of my life had alleviated their worry but I was glad that I no longer had to deal with that issue.

As it was, they had gradually learnt to accept it, accept that I liked my hair long and pink, my clothes somewhat girlish and my manner bubbly. It hadn’t been so bad at home after that but outside, things hadn’t changed. It’s amazing how many people never see beyond the surface, how many people judge in an instant and condemn forever.

And yet, there are people who don’t. People who realize that being true to yourself is important. People who ignore society’s conventions and opinions and make decisions for themselves, who choose who they befriend and who they ignore. People who see beyond the skin. And as long as there are these people, the others don’t matter. And even if they suddenly disappear, it doesn’t matter either.

I drop from the tree, light as a cat and sure of myself.

Because I know who I am and what I am.

I am Kisaragi Shun. And nobody can take that away from me.

~~ owari ~~

comments? Please send them over, kudasai! ^_^

HTMLing done by Jop, 2000.