I’m My Own High School Rival: Nakamura’s Arc: Heritage

  The school day had ended, and students went home to rest their weary bodies and ugh lovingly with their families, save for me.

  I walked out of the school building, hoping to avoid Antwon so he wouldn’t have to come home with me; I’d figure something out with my parents. But he was waiting for me, surrounded by a few girls, touching his hair and trying to get close, as he stood there trying to deflect gently. He dodged their swiping hands and shook when they ran their fingers through his rope-like hair, wound in a ponytail.

  Good; he’s around girls his age—but I am his age, too.

  I lowered my head and trudged past the scene, but he discovered my escape.

  “Nakamura,” his voice rang out like a plea or a prayer.

  He ran towards me, waving his hand. I felt an uncanny sensation grow inside me: this boy is going to meet my parents under a pretense, but he was still meeting them.

  I mustn’t think this way.

  He stopped before me, gasping for breath as if he’d run for days.

  “You’re a lifesaver. I tried to let those girls know I wasn’t interested, but they wouldn’t take the hint.”

  I tightened my grip on my backpack straps—I’m just one of many, which is fine because being too close is wrong, right?

  “I’m sorry about your predicament. Antwon, you don’t have to come home with me, okay? I’ll find the words required to sway my parents.”

  He studied my face, searching for cracks in my armor and a point of entry. His fan club gred at me.

  “You promised to walk me home after, Nakamura. And if you suggest one or all of those girls over there, I wouldn’t make it home until the next day, and you know it.”

  I hate it when I’m right, but hate it more when someone else is.

  I sighed.

  The sun kissed our skin, and the wind whispered its soft secrets.

  I fixed my gsses and walked toward my home. I could hear Antwon’s footsteps trailing behind me—I wanted him to walk beside me, to be a little closer. However, this was close enough for me.

  ***

  We walked to my house silently, but I understood why he didn’t want to walk home alone. The sheer number of stares and curious girls made me uncomfortable, forcing me to acknowledge Sakura’s motives.

  A few girls, or should I say women in their twenties, followed us a fair distance. Others kept asking him personal questions, like, "What’s it like being a foreign boy in Kokiri?" You must attract loads of female attention. And the worst, “Are you down for some fun?”

  He’s a fifteen-year-old boy, not a beacon for someone’s sick fantasy.

  The sun, once high above, had started its sleepy descent, implying that we made it here in good time.

  He was calm on the outside, but I wonder how he felt about being a foreigner in Kokiri.

  “Antwon, I’m sorry for the—"

  “Don’t be,” he said. “You aren’t responsible for the actions of others.”

  He was still following behind me, but he was emotionally ahead.

  “Does it happen often?”

  Silence. Perhaps he was thinking if it took any thought.

  “Typically, Sakura stops them from talking to me.”

  Well, I’m no Sakura.

  “Don’t walk so gloomily. I didn’t expect you to fight all those women.”

  I wish I could, but I don’t have Sakura’s monstrous strength.

  His footsteps were rapid for a beat, and then they returned to normal. I felt a hand gently rubbing my back.

  “It’s okay, Nakamura. I like you the way you are.”

  I groaned, and he quickened his comfort.

  It’s what I wanted to hear: that he liked me as a friend. So why did it feel like… rejection?

  ***

  We stood, now, at the threshold of my demise, where truths must be told to preserve my crumbling grasp on reality. The brown, chipped frame and translucent side panels, recently cleaned but still foggy, felt smaller beside Antwon.

  We had to walk down narrow alleys created by houses that leaned in too close, like old women with broken backs or an insidious whisper.

  I walked up the creaking stairs that groaned with every step, as if I were too heavy.

  “Antwon,” let me go inside and announce you, so as not to surprise my parents.”

  He nodded, and I csped my hands as if to pray that he would follow my instructions.

  He sighed with irritation, crossed his arms, and nodded again.

  “Fine, Nakamura, but don’t keep me waiting too long.”

  I walked into my house. I kicked my shoes into the genkan cluttered with pairs that never saw the outside.

  As I walked through the house searching for my parents, a clean smell struck me, even though the house didn’t appear clean.

  I found my parents sitting on soft mats by the table, drinking tea.

  Mom tried to drink the tea while it was still hot, burning her tongue with every attempt. Dad sat patiently, waiting for it to cool down.

  They physically expressed their desire to speak by turning toward me, but I silenced them by holding out my hand.

  “Listen, I have a friend over, but he doesn’t know about any of the future stuff I’ve told you. So please, don’t say anything about it.”

  Mom gave me a thumbs up, and Dad, who still wasn’t sold, returned to drinking his tea.

  Close enough.

  I walked toward the door, the weight of it all finally sinking in; it made my heart throb with joy, fear, or uncertainty.

  I opened the door. Antwon was tapping the toes of his shoes on the ground. He looked up to meet my eyes and smiled.

  He was really here—with me in this world.

  “Nakamura, are you ready for me?”

  My hand trembled on the old wooden door.

  “Y-yes.”

  I knew why my heart danced.

  ***

  The tension was palpable as we sat at the small table waiting for someone to speak. Antwon’s smile had not faded from our earlier interaction at the door, catching my Dad’s specutive gaze. However, Mom reciprocated his energy by smiling twice as much as Antwon; she was like a kid with a new toy.

  “Kaito, look at him,” my mother said with rosy eyes.

  She would cling to the first living thing I brought home, so I couldn’t base the atmosphere on her response.

  “I see him, Emiko. I just never thought she was into foreign boys,” Dad said, holding his face, trying to analyze Antwon. “So, what’s your name and which country are you from?”

  I bit my lip because I wasn’t sure which country Antwon was from. And the question felt rude. I wish my Dad would give him a chance to… What am I thinking?

  He moved to the side of the table and bowed, an act of honor that surprised my parents.

  “My name is Antwon Carter, and I’m from the States. It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”

  The frown lines on my Dad’s face disappeared, smoothed out; he was surprised, but was it the bow that rattled him?

  “T-thank you, but you can rise up now,” Dad said, unsure if Antwon knew the ritual.

  “Did you hear how clear his Japanese is, Kaito?” Mom said.

  My dad’s eyes were still fixed on Antwon with low lids; I could tell by the agitated nerve above his eye that he still suspected something.

  “Carter, where did you and Tiff meet?” Mom asked.

  Finally, a useful question.

  “We met in Ms. Igarashi’s history css,” Antwon said, twirling his thumbs.

  As wholesome as this feels, Antwon wasn’t telling them that we aren’t dating.

  I tugged Antwon’s sleeve, getting his attention.

  “Antwon,” I whispered, “speed this up: tell them we aren’t dating so I can walk you home.”

  “Okay,” he whispered back.

  I counted on his compliance to end this farce quickly, so I could take him home and conclude this day.

  “Igarashi… that’s something. Any csses taught by less questionable teachers?” Mom was about Ms. Igarashi’s age; Igarashi’s rumors were truths in her eyes.

  Ms. Igarashi’s reputation was widely recognized in the worst way, regardless of her current status.

  “We have Softness training with Ms. Hoshikawa,” Antwon said, but he didn’t understand the implications of his statement.

  They both exchanged gnces, silently questioning why a boy was in Softness Training when they cked the physical strength required for tempering.

  “What Carter means is he passed the Dangers of Emotional Manipution exam and was allowed to act as the proxy in the course, but only for this year.”

  “So impressive,” my father said, shocked that someone of his age could pass it.

  I thought about it, and it’s not that impressive. I’ve seen the test before I was sent back in time, and there isn’t much to it.

  “It’s not that big of a deal, Dad. I’m sure you could pass it too. However, Carter has something to—”

  Antwon’s head was down, but sitting on his side, I could see his maniacal gre. I had offended him in some way, and he was letting me know about it.

  He leaned closer to me, hugging my arm.

  Antwon pced my hand between his legs, causing me to blush uncontrolbly.

  “I agree, Tiff. The test is silly. And please call me Antwon, Mom.”

  “Wow! That’s my girl! Antwon’s already calling me mom.”

  She said, raising her cup of green tea.

  “Hold on a moment, Emiko. If he’s the test dummy, he’s getting plenty of attention from other girls.” Dad said, deliberately looking for a sign of guilt in Antwon’s face.

  Silence.

  “Who’s to say he’s only for our Tiff?”

  Antwon interlocked our fingers, stoking the fmes burning my face. I started to retrieve my hand, but the warmth of his thigh through the fabric of his uniform trapped me.

  “If Tiff doesn’t want me to continue being a proxy, I’ll leave and fail next year’s exam.”

  I swallowed the pooling saliva in my mouth. They were impressed with Antwon’s responses.

  “How are your test scores?” Dad asked, vetting him.

  Test scores meant everything to them… Antwon tried to pull my hand back… but I held it steady. I could feel his body move forward.

  “I’m typically in the top fifteen of my school.”

  Dad crossed his arms.

  “Why fifteen?”

  “I’m not that strong in math. Numbers don't speak to me the way words do."

  My parents adored math… stop pulling!

  “Tiff, are you okay, hon? You look sick.” Dad, who was always watching for signs of illness, asked.

  Antwon pced a hand to my forehead, finally giving me enough sck to move my arm.

  “Kaito, it’s because she hasn’t eaten yet. Prepare the food.”

  “Oh, but she has. I fed her.”

  “What!” both said simultaneously.

  “Antwon,” I whispered, “what are you doing?”

  He recimed my arm, pulling me down, and whispered, “I’m showing you the dangers of emotional manipution, Tiff.”

  “S-so, you fed my Tiff—while at school?” Mom said, trembling.

  Dad didn’t look stoked about the idea.

  “Oh yes! I gave her a cute pink bento box, wrapped with a red ribbon and—”

  Mom smmed both hands on the table, startling everyone.

  “You made her a bento box!?” Her eyes were filled with hope.

  Antwon stayed silent; he had hit a line he wasn’t willing to cross.

  He fidgeted with my sleeve. I gave him the chance to come clean; now I’ll tell them myself.

  “That’s enough, Antwon. Mom… we aren’t dating.”

  They didn’t say anything; they just exchanged looks.

  Antwon slowly released his grip and fixed himself.

  Mom leaned in. “W-why would you—”

  “I-I liked seeing Tiffany happy. I liked being around all of you, and when I saw how happy you both were to see me, I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  Antwon’s head hung low.

  “Well… why don’t you date?” Mom asked.

  Warmth grasped my heart and kissed my cheeks.

  “Emiko!” Dad interrupted.

  “I… don’t think Tiff sees me that way.”

  See you that way? Antwon, I really wish I… didn’t have to lie.

  “Antwon, can we have a moment alone? And I would love it if you stayed for dinner.” Mom’s voice was sincere yet warm; she wanted to talk about something important.

  “Yes, should I wait outside?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she smiled. “Down the hall. The third door on your right. Make yourself at home.”

  He got up and, slowly, cautiously followed my Mom’s directions. He flipped the light switch, and I watched as he traveled down the hall, looking back to make sense of why he was being removed.

  He walked into the room and closed the door gently.

  We waited, exchanging gnces, until we heard the door close softly, and then we were alone.

  She should be furious. He just lied to you about… to me about having a retionship… Wait a second… That’s my room!

  I jumped up in a heated panic.

  “Mom! Why did you just send Antwon to my room?!”

  She looked down pensively at the table.

  Mom’s smile faded, leaving a weary, worn-down version of herself.

  “Listen, Kaito. I believe the stuff Tiff said this morning, and it scares me. But what scares me more than dying is leaving you alone.”

  She paused and wiped something from her face.

  “I know you, Kaito. I love you with everything in me, but I can’t see you sting long without me. And because Tiff didn’t mention you, I assumed that’s what happened.”

  Mom looked at me, and I couldn’t make eye contact because she was right.

  Dad stayed silent; he always did when Mom talked about leaving this world.

  “I don’t know if someone new could repce my spot in your heart. What I do know is that grandkids would give you a reason to keep moving forward.”

  Mom…

  She leaned over to Dad and kissed his forehead.

  He smiled.

  “Now get back there, Tiff, and make me some grandchildren.” Mom ughed with an odd mix of sadness and truth.

  I blinked.

  “Are you serious, Mom!”

  “Emiko!” Dad screamed