True Education: I Have a Life Simulator

Ever since Karuizawa Kei moved away, she had lost all contact with Kitagawa Ryo. This estrangement lasted for about half a year. The photo of her and Ryo, taken during their elementary school graduation ceremony, had been placed in a frame and set on the desk in her room. In the photo, both wore black-and-white uniforms.

Two months ago, Kei moved that photo from her desk to her bedside table. During the peak of the school bullying, she had even started falling asleep while holding it in her arms. In the long, lonely nights, Ryo's image in the photo became a statue—no, a fortress—one that silently stood guard over Kei, day after day.

Those two months felt longer than any period in her life. So much so that, in the moments when a bucket of cold water was poured over her head, droplets cascading down from her hair to her feet, she was reminded of all those times in elementary school. The memories of Ryo being at her side seemed distant—like a faded, overgrown path behind her.

Kei could only vaguely recall once walking hand-in-hand with Ryo on that path. Now it had completely disappeared, swallowed by time. Moss had crept into every crevice of memory, fragmenting it all.

And now, Kitagawa Ryo stood before her again.

Just like always, and yet—after so long.

"Uehara Emika, I remember you."

Ryo leaned forward, his shadow and figure enveloping Uehara Emika. He lowered his voice.

"Once I understand everything between you and Kei, I'll be back for you."

The sound of the glass hitting the floor had already drawn the attention of several customers and staff in the café. No matter how angry he was, Ryo couldn't cause a scene in public. To everyone else, it was simply an accident—someone had knocked over a drink.

He turned his gaze once more to the stunned girl—Uehara Emika. Her wide-eyed disbelief was evident. After observing Kei for an entire semester, she had been certain that this so-called Ryo no longer existed in her life. If he had been around, there was no way he would've silently allowed the bullying to continue for over a month.

Emika subconsciously placed a hand on her bag, silently thankful that Ryo had shown up before she could take any action. If he'd been just one or two hours late, she might have...

Without another word, Ryo took Kei—still dazed—by the hand and walked straight out of the café, leaving behind three girls frozen in confusion.

No sooner had they stepped outside than Kei threw her arms around him.

When she looked up, Ryo saw teardrops welling in her pale-blue eyes, like a devoted believer reunited with their god. She began to sob gently against his chest.

Ryo had seen Kei cry before—back when she was six or seven. At that age, she'd tear up over the smallest things. A little sand in her shoe could prompt trembling lips and watery eyes.

Happiness only requires a smile—just lift the corners of your mouth, an effortless act. But crying—real crying—takes a hundred times more energy. No one walks around with tears ready to fall.

So Ryo held Kei tightly.

For the first time, he saw her as a child again. Her sniffles had the innocence of a little girl. It pained him. All he could do was continue holding her.

In that moment, Ryo wasn't just her childhood friend anymore. He felt like someone higher—something more.

Realizing this, Ryo quickly pulled a tissue from his pocket and gently wiped away her tears.

[It's okay, it's okay. I'm back.]

He nearly said it in the voice you'd use to comfort a child—but he held back.

He led Kei to a nearby bench. Two pairs of high school couples nearby barely gave them a glance before returning to their own romantic conversations.

"Can you tell me what happened, Kei?"

He waited patiently until her emotions had fully settled.

"Ryo, you shouldn't have asked that right away."

Kei sniffled, her eyes still red, but she held tightly to his hand.

"You're supposed to say, 'I'm back' first. Then I'll say, 'Welcome home.'"

"So you care about rituals now?"

Ryo reached out to fix her slightly messy hair. Just as he tried to pull his hand back, Kei grabbed it with her left hand.

"Keep going."

Kei leaned her body completely against his shoulder, resting her head on his chest.

"You can only stop when I say so."

Ryo couldn't remember Kei being this clingy before. Maybe it was just the long separation. With a resigned sigh, he continued stroking her hair—like petting a docile, oversized dog.

"Ryo."

"Mm."

"No 'mm.' You're supposed to say 'I'm here.'"

"I'm here."

"Ryo."

"I'm here."

"That's good."

Kei closed her eyes and curled up like a baby, nestling against him.

"Ryo, I want to grow up quickly. I want to be an adult. I don't want to stay in school anymore."

It sounded like a child dreaming aloud.

Ryo had already guessed that Kei had been bullied again in the past six months.

"I hate school. I hate dealing with people. I just don't want to be bullied, that's all. But no matter what I want, it still happens."

"If you hadn't come back, I would've been bullied for another two years. What'll happen when I graduate? When I get to high school?"

"I don't know. I'm scared. I'm terrified to even think about it."

Kei's eyes turned distant, haunted by old memories. She wavered, then looked directly at Ryo before embracing him again.

"I'm sorry."

She whispered by his ear.

Then, Kei gently kissed the side of his neck.

-------------------------------------

At 7 PM, Kitagawa Ryo sat on the hotel bed, flipping through the documents compiled by Izaki on his laptop. Included in the files were detailed reports of Karuizawa Kei's school life over the past six months and personal and family information about Uehara Emika and other perpetrators involved in the bullying.

He furrowed his brows as he scanned through all the events: how Karuizawa Kei had inadvertently become the center of the girls in class because of him, the incident surrounding Wakada, and ultimately Wakada's attempted suicide and the rumors that blamed Kei as the cause of her bullying.

"First, Wakada."

He pulled up the girl's file. It stated that her father, three months ago, fled to Hokkaido to avoid loan sharks after accumulating massive gambling debts. During the following month — just before Wakada's suicide attempt — she and her mother were harassed persistently by debt collectors: loud banging on their door late at night, the grotesque sight of a dead dog hanged at their doorstep. These events pressured their landlord to cancel their lease.

On the final day before moving out, the mother tried to commit suicide with her daughter by burning charcoal. However, due to giving Wakada an insufficient dosage of sleeping pills, the girl woke midway and crawled to the door to escape. The act was discovered in time, and although Wakada had inhaled smoke, she survived after emergency care — now in a vegetative state. Her fugitive father returned only after selling the family's ancestral home and heirloom sword to cover medical expenses and repay the debt. He had originally refrained from asking his wife for help out of pride, leading to the tragedy.

"...So Wakada didn't actually die?"

Kitagawa tapped the keyboard and verified the story through several news archives. Indeed, the case was reported.

"Then the rumor that she committed suicide because of bullying... was false."

Confirming this, Kitagawa even found Izaki's note:

[According to hospital feedback, the patient is in stable recovery and may regain consciousness.]

"So how did this rumor spread in the first place?"

He opened the next document. The name "Uehara Emika" jumped out.

He knew this girl. Not only had they attended the same elementary school, but she had always displayed a cruel personality. He distinctly remembered seeing her skin a living frog with a toothpick — a memory still vivid.

Uehara Emika had always been someone with no regard for life.

Kitagawa reviewed her details:

"Toshima Ward, Tokyo. Fourteen years old. Father: Uehara Tadashi, former factory worker at Chiba Heavy Industries, now unemployed. Mother: Uehara Yuko, housewife. Total family debt: 21 million yen."

[The rumor about Wakada likely originated from her.]

Izaki had annotated.

During the past half year in the UK with his parents, Kitagawa had learned many lessons. His father once told him, after learning Ryo had fought bullies for a friend back in elementary school:

"Violence isn't always the best answer."

Kitagawa had disagreed:

"But it's the most direct, powerful, and satisfying way."

His father acknowledged the point, but added:

"One day, you'll face similar situations. You can use violence again, and sure, they might apologize or back off, but they'll never forget. They'll seek revenge. Maybe not directly — but through classmates, gangs, or even the yakuza. Even if you win every time, they'll keep coming."

"And if they can't beat you, they'll go after the people you protect. If something happens, no amount of vengeance can undo the harm."

Kitagawa had nodded slowly:

"So... you're saying I should go straight to the source."

His father patted his head with a rare expression of pride:

"Ryo, you don't have to follow the rules school imposed on you."

"Because your surname is Kitagawa."

Violence was humanity's oldest rule: the strong dominate the weak. But modern law restrained its application — assault and murder were illegal. No matter how many times Kitagawa beat up bullies, it would always be within the school's implicit rules. He could intimidate them, but never eliminate the root cause.

So — he had to jump out of that system. Operate on a higher level. Shatter their entire understanding of what they could get away with.

Kitagawa remembered his father's words as he categorized the people involved.

Half an hour passed. A knock came at the door.

Karuizawa Kei had fallen asleep in his arms just thirty minutes after their emotional reunion earlier. Exhausted by months of trauma and sleepless nights, she had slept deeply. Kitagawa brought her to the hotel, letting her rest in the adjacent room with a note on her pillow:

[I'm next door.]

Opening the door, he saw Kei standing there, just awakened, hair messily tousled. Kitagawa instinctively reached out to smooth her bedhead.

Kei looked down, opening her lips to speak, then closing them again. She squirmed, eyes full of longing.

"Ryo... will you leave again?"

Kitagawa's hand froze mid-motion.