The little companion who lives on in my heart is gently pushing me forward again today.

#nana56b


Synopsis

I had just started sixth grade, and that day, I stared bitterly at the handout I’d been given. “Wakakusa Committee Member”—that was the name given to the role assigned to upper-grade students at my elementary school: to support students in the special education class.

Escorting students to and from school, assisting with lunch, and supervising them during recess. All of these were nothing more than “duties” that cut into my precious free time.

“Why is it always me…?”

How many times had I muttered that bitter complaint on my way to Jun-chan’s house—who lived in the neighborhood—after waking up earlier than anyone else that morning? I cursed my misfortune at being chosen simply because we lived in the same neighborhood association.

Jun-chan was a boy with Down syndrome. Although he would sometimes stare at me intently with his big eyes, verbal communication was impossible. On the contrary, perhaps out of frustration that he couldn’t get his feelings across, he would suddenly lunge at me.

His sharp nails would scratch my arm, and he’d spit in my face. It was a daily occurrence for him to yank my prized long hair with all his might, bringing tears to my eyes.

“I can’t take this anymore. I want to quit.”

There were times I wanted to run crying to my mother. But if I gave up, this burden would simply fall on another friend. That sense of responsibility was the only thing barely keeping me by Jun-chan’s side.

However, as the seasons passed, something “more than words” gradually—yet surely—accumulated between us.

One afternoon after school, I found myself unconsciously standing in front of Jun-chan, who was being teased by a group of classmates. As I raised my voice, shouting, “Stop it!” Jun-chan looked up at me from behind, gripping the hem of my shirt tightly. I could feel the tremor in his hand all the way to my fingertips.

On another day, the yellow hat he cherished was blown away by the wind. From dusk until the streetlights began to come on, we searched through the bushes, getting covered in mud. When I placed the hat I’d found on his head, Jun-chan gave me a carefree smile. That was the first time I’d ever seen a response from his “heart.”

Amid the whirlwind of days passing by, the high wall within me—known as a “sense of duty”—was gradually chipped away.

And then came graduation day.

It was just as I was about to walk out the school gate with my diploma in hand, after the solemn ceremony had ended. There, the homeroom teacher from the special education class and several students were lined up, waiting for me. Standing in the center was Jun-chan, all dressed up.

He stepped forward with a shy smile. In his hand was a slightly lopsided necklace made of colorful origami squares strung together.

Jun-chan placed it around my neck …