Masahiro was just a 14-year-old boy when he came home from school that afternoon. His school uniform was all rumpled, his hair messy, and his face tired, with dark circles under his eyes. He had his backpack slung over his shoulders, still carrying all his school materials, which he was taking off after closing the front door behind him, while slipping off his shoes.
He did everything in silence, without saying a word, until his quiet was broken by a wheeze coming from the hallway.
"Masahiro!" a hoarse voice was calling him—it was his father. His voice was damp and rough, just like you'd imagine the voice of a heavy smoker.
His father's call was followed by the sound of his heavy steps on the wooden floor. Sometimes Masahiro wondered if his feet were made of lead.
"Hello, Father," Masahiro said in a rather distant tone, giving his father a quick glance.
"Well? What grade did you get this time?" the man asked impatiently. He was a rather tall and big man, certainly taller than the average Japanese male, especially for that era—the 1980s. At the time, his hair was already gray, with a slight recession at the temples. His build was imposing.
"I got a 5, Dad. The highest grade. As usual," Masahiro replied curtly.
"Hey! Don't talk to me with that insolent tone. You remember the high school entrance exams, don't you? Have you been studying for them? You'd better, because if you don't get accepted, you're going straight to work. Got it?"
"I got it. And anyway, I always get the highest grades. You could be at least a little proud of me."
Masahiro never held back, even as a boy. He wasn't afraid to stand up to his menacing father, though he did so with a certain respect and diplomacy. He chose his words carefully and placed them with intent. It didn't take much to be misunderstood by Takeshi Kuni—he was quick to jump to conclusions.
"Proud?! And what exactly should I be proud of, boy?! You haven't changed the world. You're just doing your duty, and you'd better keep doing it if you want to achieve something in life. Do you think you're doing me a favor? You need to straighten out that attitude. Good grades alone won't build you a career. In fact, if you don't correct yourself, you'll ruin your reputation! You think anyone wants to hire a quarrelsome lawyer?"
Masahiro sighed impatiently. "Lawyer? Are you still going on about that? I won't be a lawyer, Dad. I've told you a thousand times—I want to become a microbiologist, and I'm studying to get into a high school that will open those doors for me. Both for university and for work. I'm not going to be a lawyer just because you want it."
His father looked at him with disappointment. "Microbiologist… all that effort down the drain! You could've been a successful lawyer, and instead you're playing around with test tubes like some mad scientist! You're just a kid—you have no idea what you're saying. Now go make yourself lunch, or you'll be late for piano lessons."
"I don't care! I never wanted to play the piano!"
Masahiro's father returned to his room with the same heavy steps he had come in with. Masahiro let out a sigh, as if trying to expel a boulder from his chest. He took off his uniform and quietly made himself lunch, then sat down to eat alone, in silence.
In those moments, Masahiro often wondered if growing up simply meant learning not to talk back anymore.