Chapter 6: Interlude — A Boy Named Thoma

My childhood friend has always been strange. To put it simply, he’s an idiot… though maybe that’s the wrong word. He’s not actually dumb—his head works just fine—but his actions are so bizarre that maybe I’m just using the wrong label.

Still, I can’t think of anything else that fits, so “idiot” it is.

There’s nothing grand about how we met. It just feels like we were always together, from as far back as I can remember. I don’t even recall when it started.

What I do remember is that, ever since we were little, he loved seeing other people happy. He said he liked smiles, and I often saw him staying by the side of someone who was crying.

"Why do you do that, Toma?"

I feel like I asked him that once, back when I was little. Maybe it was simple curiosity—or maybe it was childish irritation that my childhood friend would leave me alone to do something like that.

"Because when I see a sad face, I feel sad too. If I’m going to look at something, I’d rather see a smiling face."

He said that with an awkward, almost grown-up smile, yet his words still carried a childish lisp.

Hearing that made him seem like an adult, as if he were telling me I was the childish one. I remember sulking for a while after that… which is why it’s a bitter memory for me.

I’ve always been physically strong. I’d pick fights even with people bigger and older than me, so the only person I could really call a friend was Toma. I remember feeling lonely because of that… though I’d never admit it to him.

My world was small. It consisted of my parents, him, and his mom and dad. There were plenty of villagers, but I was never good with people, so as long as I had them, nothing else mattered.

"Your parents are dead."

So when I was told that, I could only think it was a lie.

Like always, I thought they’d gone to their fields and would come back soon.

I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe that starving people from another village had turned into bandits, attacked, and killed them.

I barely remember anything after that. I know I shut myself inside the house my parents left behind and spent days doing nothing, just staring blankly.

To the villagers, I must have been a nightmare—strong, stubborn, and impossible to handle. I vaguely remember them talking about sending me to an orphanage, but I flatly refused.

I even heard that when some adults tried to drag me out of the house by force, I punched them and resisted. Apparently, after seeing how wild I’d become, no one tried to take me away anymore. They just decided to leave me alone and let me do whatever I wanted.

"Hikariii-chan!! Let’s play!!!"

Even so, he kept calling out to me from outside the house.

Of course, I ignored him. I covered my ears so I wouldn’t have to hear.

Because being around Toma reminded me of my parents… and it hurt. It forced me to face the fact that the people who made up my small world were gone.

"Shut up!! I hate you, Toma!! I hate you, so go away!!!!"

I couldn’t stand that carefree voice, so I yelled at him again and again, hurling childish insults without stopping.

He was probably worried about me. He probably wanted me to feel better.

And yet, I kept telling him I hated him.

I didn’t understand how much that must have hurt him. Even so, he kept coming to my house almost every day, inviting me out to play.

"The stars are really pretty today!!"

"Hey, guess what—I saw a rainbow today!!"

"Arara-san’s dogs got married! They used to fight all the time, but something must’ve happened, because before we knew it, they got along and even had puppies! Now they’re like one of those lovey-dovey couples that are always together!!"

He went on and on like that, telling me everything—even though I ignored all of it—shouting loud enough for me to hear from outside in that same carefree voice.

I started to hate that childhood friend of mine.

I was in so much pain—so why was he always so cheerful, day after day? That misplaced anger grew inside me.

I only found out by chance… that his father had been killed along with my parents.

That day, by pure coincidence, I went outside. Maybe I had run out of food and was looking for something to eat—I don’t really remember.

What I do remember is the villagers’ conversation.

"That child lost his father too, and yet he still…"

"I hear he’s always smiling. Apparently, he never even cries. It’s kind of creepy, don’t you think?"

"He goes to visit that shut-in girl every single day and even helps his mother. That’s not fair to say. His eyes are always red—maybe he cries somewhere no one can see…"

The moment I heard that, I started running.

I searched the entire village for Toma. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say, but I felt like I had to say something.

So I ran, searching until I was exhausted—but I didn’t stop.

I finally found him on a hill near the forest where we used to play together.

"Hic… ugh… Dad… why did you have to go…"

There, on that hill, Toma was crying.

He must have been doing this alone all along.

The ground at his feet was soaked with tears, as if it had rained.

I didn’t know. I never even tried to know. What kind of feelings did someone like him—who cried like this all alone—have when he came to cheer me up every single day?

If I had just looked at his face once, I would have noticed his messy black hair—the kind his father used to stroke—and realized something was wrong.

If I had answered even one of his invitations, I would have seen that his black eyes, so different from mine, were red from crying so much.

His mom was probably busy too. With the breadwinner gone, she must have been preparing to run the tavern by herself. It wouldn’t be strange if she didn’t have time to take care of him.

That’s why… I should have been the first to notice.

I should have realized how much he was pushing himself.

But I only thought about myself. I didn’t notice anything until I saw it with my own eyes. I didn’t even realize how much pain he must have been hiding.

"What are you doing…?"

I meant to apologize. I wanted to say "I’m sorry." I wanted to comfort him.

But instead, those were the words that came out.

Startled by my voice, he turned around—and just as I expected, his eyes were bright red.

"Why didn’t you tell me your dad died?! Why did you come to see me every day when you were crying like this?! Why were you always acting like some carefree idiot?!"

Maybe it was because we hadn’t spoken in so long—but once I started, the words just came pouring out.

That’s not what I wanted to say… and yet everything I thought spilled straight from my mouth.

Without even imagining—without even trying to imagine—how much it would hurt him, I just kept listing everything he had done and shouting at him.

I don’t know how long I went on like that. Before I realized it, my breathing was ragged, my chest heaving. And tears I hadn’t shed until today were now spilling out—for a completely different reason than before.

I kept crying, without even understanding why.

"Because… it felt like you might disappear too, Hikari-chan."

"Haa… haa… what… are you saying…?"

"I don’t want you to disappear. I love seeing you smile, Hikari-chan. When you smile, it makes me really happy."

"So—"

He couldn’t finish that sentence. But maybe he felt relieved just saying that much, because he broke into a crumpled, gentle smile.

"Hikari-chan, you’re crying too… We’re the same, aren’t we?"

"…!!"

"But if you’re crying, then I’ll smile and come make you smile. Because you look way cuter when you’re smiling, Hikari-chan."

"Wh—why… would you go that far?!"

"When you smile, I’m happy. When you cry, I feel sad too. If we’re together—if we’re really together—then I want us to keep smiling."

At those words, I became aware that the tears streaming from my eyes were warm. Until now, my tears had always felt cold—but this warmth must have come from touching his kindness.

He understood the sadness I thought no one could ever understand. That alone was enough to save me.

I had cried, believing no one would stay by my side, and had almost given up.

But he had been there all along—right beside me.

It was only then that I truly realized how strong it was… to think of someone else, to hold back your own tears, and keep smiling for their sake when you’re the one hurting.

If Toma hadn’t been there, I probably would have decided long ago that I was completely alone, thrown everything away, and left that house—running from the memories of my parents.

Maybe I would have died somewhere. Or even if I had lived, I would have never known the warmth of tears like this.

"...If I… if I keep smiling… will you smile too, Toma?"

"Even if you’re not smiling, I’ll still smile. So that you will. I don’t know if I can make you laugh—but I think I can at least be laughed at."

No—that’s not right. I won’t let anyone laugh at Toma.

Because sure, he’s an idiot—but he’s also kind, thoughtful, and stubborn enough to act on those feelings all by himself.

Even when the villagers call him strange, he doesn’t stop. He does all of this for a single childhood friend, and even when he gets no response, he never gives up.

"Toma… you really are an idiot."

It frustrated me—so much that I couldn’t accept that all his efforts for my sake would be treated like that.

So I smiled. It was a self-mocking smile, but even as tears streamed down my face, I smiled at him.

Seeing that, Toma blinked in surprise. His tears stopped—and just like he said, when he saw my clumsy smile, his face broke into a wide, radiant grin.

My childhood friend is an idiot. That’s something that will never change.

Back then and even now, I only understand about half of what he says—and not even thirty percent of what gets him so excited and happy.

Even so… I stay by his side.

Because the face he makes—the one who said he loved my smile—when he smiles…

I love it.