Chapter 21: Kotori Miyazaki

What you don't know can't hurt you.

To the seven-year-old Kotori Miyazaki, that would be a lesson she was forced to learn in the worst way possible.

Back then the world around me was so vibrant and colorful. For as long as I could remember, I had always been an outgoing and energetic child. In particular, I remember being very expressive and having a substantial sense of creativity, even from a young age. In my eyes, the world was so vast and full of mystery. I always wanted to know more, try new things, and ask various questions. That's what brought me happiness—what gave me a sense of fulfillment. I wanted to share that happiness with the children around me. However, I was still young, and with that immaturity came ignorance.

"Kotori, why do you always want to do different things from the rest of us?" A boy with a shaved head and missing tooth asked me.

The boy would often make the class laugh with his jokes and witty comments. He would purposefully make himself the heel of a joke to lift the class's spirit, even if it meant upsetting the teacher. He was silly, but he was beloved by the class and acted as the representative in a sense.

"Is it not fun to try new things for you guys?" I asked him, confused.

"It's not that it's not fun," the boy made a difficult expression as if he didn't want to say the following words, "but sometimes it's annoying when you're the only one that doesn't want to play what everyone else does."

"…I see. Well, that's alright. I think you guys should just play whatever you have the most fun doing."

"Really? You mean it Kotori?" The boys asked, overcome with excitement. Any traces of his previous hesitancy had completely vanished.

I didn't want to take away that joy from him or from any of my classmates for that matter.

"Yup! Having fun is the most important thing after all," I said to him, brightly smiling.

"Yeah, I think so too! Thanks, Kotori!"

I waved goodbye to the boy as he ran off to go play with the rest of the kids. As he rejoined the group and started talking to them, their faces all simultaneously lit up with joy. Seeing their smiling faces, I too found myself feeling joyous as I watched them run around outside from a desk near the window, inside the classroom.

"It's fine," I thought.

I can't expect everyone to enjoy doing the same things as me. I understood that. I understood but…

Somewhere deep within me, I had hoped that there would be at least one person that would still play with me. That there was at least one other person in class that had fun doing the things I did.

Surely there has to be.

That's what I told myself over and over again. I chose to believe that naive notion without so much as a second thought because at the end of the day— I just wanted to have friends.

Days went by, then weeks passed, and before I knew it, a few months had come and gone.

Slowly but surely, I became the ugly duckling of the class. Refusing to adhere to what was considered "the norm", I found myself alienated.

My peers were divided. On one hand, some of them came to detest me for being different and always expressing my own way of thinking. They would call me "stuck-up" or "smarty pants". Why? Why were they saying such mean things to me? I couldn't understand why I was hated for just being myself. I wanted nothing more than for them to share in the joys of my world. And yet… I was instead shunned by my classmates. That really hurt me. However, what hurt me even more was what the other half of my peers chose to do. The ones that actually liked me, but chose to stay away from me and follow the group consensus, which coincidentally, was to ignore me. I couldn't understand it. Did I do something wrong? Should I just follow everyone else and keep my thoughts to myself? No matter how much I agonized over it, I couldn't find a conclusive answer. So I decided to ask the one person I could always turn to in my times of need.

"Mama, is there something wrong with me?" I asked her with tears welling up in my eyes.

"Oh dear, why would you ever think something like that?"

"No one at school wants to play with me, so I thought that there might be something wrong with me."

"Oh my, come here dear," she gently called to me, gesturing for me to sit on her lap, "There there, it's ok Kotori dear."

"Mm." I nodded.

I jumped up onto her lap and rested the back of my head on her chest. She felt soft and really warm. Just being close to her like that made me feel at ease, it calmed my heart.

She gently wrapped her arm around me as she spoke, "There's nothing wrong with you dear," she reassured me, stroking my head with her other arm, "Your energetic personality, your creativity, and your desire to always learn new things. I love everything about you. Don't ever feel that you need to change, alright Kotori?"

"…Ok *sniff* mama…"

"Ara, what's the matter dear? Why're you crying?"

"I-I'm jus…"

I was just so happy. Happy to know there was someone who loved the part of me that everyone else shunned. Happy that someone had told me I was fine just the way I was. Even if she didn't really mean it, I held those words very dear to my heart. Perhaps she didn't think much of it, but to me, her words became my solace.

Days went by.

Weeks passed.

And before I knew it, a few more months had come and gone.

Things at school progressively got worse and worse. I faced the same alienation and scorn from my classmates as always. Everyone played without me, no one looked in my direction, and when they did, it was simply to berate me. At some point, without even realizing it, I had started getting bullied simply for existing. Kids would write mean things on my desk, hide my things when I wasn't looking, throw my things in the trash can just to laugh at me when I retrieved them, call me a plethora of insults, and recently they even started physically harming me by pushing me away or throwing things at me when I tried to interact with them. And the funniest part is, they tried to justify all of their cruelty by blaming me. "If I just acted like everyone else". "If I just stopped acting like a, 'know it all'". "If I stopped going off and doing different things from the rest of the class". Apparently, it was my fault, and the suffering I had to endure was the result of my own actions. They may as well have just said they were bullying me because they felt like it or because they found it amusing. I would've much sooner accepted a reason like that before accepting that I was being tormented for just being myself.

Despite everything, I continued to smile through it all.

Why you may ask? That's because I knew no matter how much pain and suffering I endured at school, no matter if my entire class despised me, no matter if all the teachers turned a blind eye to my silent pleas for help, and no matter if it was all seemingly for no reason at all. I knew that there was at least one person I could rely on. There was at least one person who loved me just the way I was. There was at least one person who would always take my side. Just knowing that was enough for me. I didn't need anything else, I didn't need anyone else. So long as I had that person, I didn't care if the whole world was against me.

One day in particular a boy in my class was determined to make me shed tears. I don't know why it was that he hated me so much. Perhaps it bothered him that I was never affected by his childish antics and would brush it aside as if it were nothing. Nonetheless, on this day he really decided to try and push all my buttons. From the moment I stepped foot into the classroom, I was ridiculed by him. He would proceed to make fun of me for my appearance, in particular my small stature, which entailed the laughter of the rest of the class. He pulled my chair out before I would sit down, causing me to fall. He would throw things at me when the teacher wasn't looking. He would mess up my hair which my mother spent so much time doing. He quite literally did any and everything he could possibly think of to try and break me.

During lunch, I didn't get a break either. He gathered a group of kids around me and they all took turns pushing me to the ground, hurling insults at me, and scattering my school supplies onto the ground.

"That'll teach her," the boy said pompously.

The insults from my peers really used to hurt and I wondered why they would physically harm me, but at this point, I was so used to it that it genuinely didn't bother me anymore. So in response to the boy, I smiled. I smiled and got up, dusting myself off, as I had done over and over and over again.

"It's alright, I won't cry from something like this," that's what I had told myself hundreds of times at this point.

My stoic demeanor must've infuriated the boy because his face grew red and he grunted, clenching his fist tightly.

"Shouldn't I be the one who's angry?" I thought.

I decided to hold my breath because I wanted them to leave as soon as possible; so I could finish eating the lunch that Mama had made for me.

"Are you happy now?" I asked the boy, dusting myself off as I picked up my belongings.

The boy and his friends stood there dumbfounded. I suppose I can't blame them. Any normal girl, hell any normal kid in general would've and should've broken down crying by now.

As I began to walk away the boy yelled out to me, "What's your problem?!", I kept walking, "You're a real freak, you know that?! Always playing by yourself. Always trying to be different from everyone else with your stupid ideas," he continued, "That's exactly why no one likes you, Miyazaki! I bet… I bet even your own parents don't like you!" My footsteps came to a halt and I stopped walking.

I didn't care if you talked badly about me. I would tolerate it if you messed with my things. I was even ok with you pushing me around. But… The one thing I won't let you do… The one line you shouldn't cross… I don't care who it is— I won't let anyone talk badly about Mama.

I turned around and began walking over to the boy.

"W-What?!" The boy called out in a quaking voice.

I ignored him and kept furiously stomping toward him. And then… The moment he was within striking distance, I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

"Y-You…," The boy whimpered. Tears had begun forming in his eyes as he stumbled to the ground.

I glared down at the boy and told him, "Don't you ever say bad things about Mama again!"

I was the smallest person in the class, but at that moment, no one stood taller than me as I reprimanded the boy. He and his friends ran away cursing me with a, "we won't forget this!" I knew I'd probably get in trouble, but I didn't care. I had defended Mama and that was all that mattered to me at that moment.

******

On my way home that day, I recalled the boy's words.

(I bet even your own parents don't like you!)

"I already know mama doesn't feel that way but…"

I wonder if that's why papa left…

I felt my mood sour as I ruminated the thought.

According to my mother, my father had left when I was first born. She never told me why, and whenever I asked about him she always had such a pained expression. I didn't like when she made that kind of face, so I stopped asking. "I have mama so I don't need anyone else," when I told her those words she broke down crying. She had held me tightly and I stroked her head, trying to console her in my own clumsy way. I was glad we could share a moment like that. And so, I too began to cry. I was happy that in a world so vast, I had her by my side.

However, I would come to later find out she wasn't shedding tears of joy like I was. My words didn't make her happy, but instead further opened a wound that my father had instilled in her all those years ago.

Looking back at it now, I guess my very existence was painful for her. The same way I didn't ask to be brought into this world, is the same way that she didn't ask to be forced to bare so many burdens on her own.

And very soon, I would find out that I was one of those burdens…

******

When I arrived home I was physically and mentally exhausted. I had dealt with another day of being bullied for god knows how many times by now.

"Mama, I'm home," I called out to my mother.

After I talk with her and tell her about my day I'm sure I'll feel better. How many times had I told myself that exact same thing? How many days of torment did that train of thought get me through? I had lost count at this point.

"Mama?" I called out again, slightly confused.

However, my mother didn't greet me back with her usual cheerful smile and loving embrace.

Hmm, that's weird.

I made my way toward the kitchen where I could hear the sound of two voices. One of them was certainly mama, but I wasn't sure who the other voice belonged to. It sounded like she was on the phone with someone. Not wanting to interrupt her, I stood at the kitchen entrance quietly peeking my head out, waiting for her to finish.

"I-I just can't take it anymore, it's too much…"

"…"

I couldn't make out exactly what the person on the other side was saying, but I was starting to get worried.

What's wrong Mama? Why do you sound so sad?

"If only I had never met him. That worthless, good-for-nothing man. If I never met him… I-I wouldn't be suffering like this now."

My mother's voice was pained and raspy, nothing like the gentle voice she always spoke to me with.

"If only… If only I never had a child with him. If she wasn't here—I wouldn't have to struggle every day on my own just to make ends meet. If only Kotori was never born… Why… Why did I have to go and have a child like her… Such a rowdy and bothersome child, just like he was… And worse of all… Why…? Why does she have to look just like that man—who I despise so much!? I can't stand to even look at her sometimes, you know!?"

"MIYAZAKI! That's enough! Do you even hear what you're saying right now?!" A voice loudly spoke from the other side of the phone.

Huh?

Was she… talking about me?

No, that can't be.

She… but she said…

(I love everything about you.)

(CRACK)

I felt something inside of me break. Something precious to me. Something that gave me strength. It was now broken, to the point of no return.

My heart shattered and tears began to trickle down my face as I stood there in disbelief.

"Ma…ma?" I called out to her.

"…K-Kotori! How long were you standing there…?"

"…Is it my fault Mama? Is it Kotori's fault that you're sad?"

"…" she said nothing and instead averted her gaze, unable to even look me, a child, in the eyes.

"Did I… *stiff* Did I do something wrong, Mama? Did I… *hic*do something to make you… *hic* hate me…?"

"…"

"Hey, Mama… *hic* Please say something… Please don't hate Kotori…"

"…"

Not a single word.

She just stood there, phone in hand, averting her eyes from me. I could hear someone on the other end of the call frantically yelling at her, but that didn't matter right now.

As I choked down my sobs and looked up at her with tears painting my face, I began pleading with her.

"Please…say you didn't really mean it, Mama…"

"…I— I'm sorry," she mumbled with a pained expression.

Shock, betrayal, heartbreak.

At that moment, those were the only things I could feel.

I turned around and began to slowly walk away.

As I took a step, I closed my eyes and saw a vision.

A picture of my mother and I eating together.

(CRACK)

It broke.

I took another step.

A picture of my mother and I playing together.

(CRACK)

It broke.

(THUMP)

I stumbled and fell onto the floor.

"…"

A sickening silence loomed inside the room as I stood up and took another step.

A picture of me happily telling her about my day at school.

(CRACK)

It broke.

I took another step.

This would be the last step I took before exiting the kitchen— And before it would be too late to save what was about to be broken…

It was then that was when I saw it.

A picture of me sitting on my mother's lap as she gently stroked my head. Written in the bottom corner of this picture was a message. It read:

"Don't ever feel that you need to change…"

(CRACK)

It shattered.

I stepped out of the kitchen and headed toward my room. As I did, an irreparable rift formed between my mother and me. One that to this day still hasn't been mended.

In this world so vast, the one person I could always rely on… The one person that always took my side... The one person whose words gave me so much strength… The one person who I trusted and loved with all my heart... And… The one person who I truly believed accepted me for who I was… She took all my feelings and tossed them to the curb as if it was worthless garbage to her.

On that day, for the first time in my life, I thought,

"Maybe the world would be better off without me."

Once I got to my room I collapsed onto the floor, letting out everything.

"WAAAAHHHHHHH…"

All the bullying.

"WAAAAAAAAA…"

All the isolation.

"What *hic* did I do wrong…"

All the pain and frustration I held in for so long.

"WAAAAAAAH…."

Is it because I'm like this?

Because I act differently from everyone else?

"WAAAAA *Hic* WAAAAAH…"

Is that why she hates me?

"I'M SOWWY…"

I'm sorry for being like this.

"Please *Sniff* don't habe me…"

Please don't hate me.

"yor da only one…"

You're the only one I have.

"WAAAAAAH…"

If being this way means that everyone will hate me… Then I'll act like everyone else. I'll follow what they do and act how they act. I'm sure then, everyone will start to like me. I'm sure I won't be alone anymore. I'm sure I won't be pushed down. I'm sure they'll stop messing with my stuff and throwing it in the trash. I'm sure they'll stop calling me mean names. I'm sure they won't leave me out of the group. And I'm sure… I'm that Mama won't hate me anymore.

If being myself entails this much suffering, then I'll throw it away. The me that everyone seems to despise, I'll cover it up. Yeah, that's right, I'll just wear a mask. If I do that, surely people will approve of me then. I won't have to endure any more pain or suffering. If I do that then, the two of us… I'm sure…

I'm sure the two of us can smile together again.

I think it was at this point that I truly began to despise myself, and as a result, I began to lose sight of who I was.

With these newly founded ideals, I proceeded through middle school. I had tons of friends and everyone around me said they liked hanging out with me. This was what I had always wanted. I thought it would make me happy, but…even though I was surrounded by so many people— Deep down, I still felt alone.

Not only that but my relationship with my mother hadn't improved in the slightest. Ever since that day she stopped looking me in the eyes. She barely spoke to me unless it was necessary and when she did it was always short and to the point. The two of us who were once inseparable, now couldn't be farther apart if we tried. We lived in the same house, the same blood ran through our veins, and yet…it was as if I was living with a complete stranger.

It hurts.

No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, she never looked in my direction. I tried talking with her, I tried dressing up like the popular kids at my school, I tried misbehaving, anything I could think of. All in hopes that maybe she'd look at me, that she'd reprimand me. Maybe she'd tell me I was wrong and I shouldn't do that. That would've made me very happy. But alas, that hope was merely a pipe dream derived from my desire to be acknowledged by her. In the end, no matter what I did, no matter what I said, no matter how I acted, she simply just treated me the same as always. It was suffocating and I couldn't even stand to be in the same house as her anymore.

I started keeping a diary.

I wrote down everything important. All my pain, trauma, and suffering. Everything. I wrote it down because I didn't want to forget. I wanted to remind myself that I wasn't good enough and that no matter what I did— I never would be.

Eventually, after following and acting like the kids around me for so long, I had lost my own sense of self. My personality was defined by the people I was trying to impress. The mask I had worn to cover up the part of myself that I had come to detest; somewhere along the line, it had become one to cover up the fact that I could no longer even differentiate what about me was real or fake anymore.

Days went by.

Weeks passed.

And before I knew it, Kotori Miyazaki was an empty shell.

By the time I had gotten to high school it only worsened. I wanted to be liked, I wanted validation, and most of all I didn't want people to find out I was deceiving them. I was terrified of the idea of finding out what people really thought of me. At this point, I felt like every single thing about me was fake. There wasn't a part of myself I could distinguish as the "real me" any longer.

There was one thing I was certain of though.

If the "real me" was the version of myself that everyone used to hate so much… Then until the day I die…

I will never reveal my true self to anyone.