Brave Story by Miyuki Miyabe Page B

and put it in his bank account. Every once in a while, they showed him the balance so that he knew how much he had saved. This tradition had begun when Wataru received his first gift of New Year’s pocket money at the age of four.
    “We don’t want him getting used to carrying around a lot of cash,” his father would explain to Wataru’s grandparents when he took the gifts for safekeeping.
    Wataru’s grandmother in Odawara would occasionally give him even larger gifts than his uncle. She was also more secretive about it, as though she were wary of what Wataru’s father might think. Regardless, Wataru always dutifully reported the gifts, and they went into his savings account straight away.
    All this meant that Wataru didn’t have money to burn. Katchan wasn’t the only one who was surprised at Wataru’s situation. One of his classmates reacted in shock when he heard the story. “I’d flip out on them if I were you,” he had advised with all seriousness. It made Wataru uncomfortable because it sounded like code for “you’re acting like a total wimp.”
    One time, Wataru tried asking Kuniko about his allowance. “I don’t feel like you and Dad are too strict,” he had begun, “but all my friends say you are.” Were his parents really strict? If not, why were they so different from everyone else’s families?
    It had not been the best timing. It was right in the middle of the uproar over the Kenji Ishioka joyriding incident, and Kuniko was furious. Kenji spent money like water. Rumor had it that Kenji got so much money in allowance every month that he could buy ten copies of a game like Eldritch Stone Saga III and still have some left over. Kenji himself claimed he had no idea how much he spent. There was no need to keep track—his parents gave him money any time he asked for it.
    Worse, Kenji’s mother was proud of it. “Our son will never have to worry about money,” she had boasted during the very PTA meeting called because of her son’s wild ride through the schoolyard. To the other parents, the meaning was clear: “our son will never have to worry about money because we’re rich, and we’ll pay whatever it takes to patch the problem up.”
    Kuniko had been furious. She couldn’t believe her ears. No wonder their kid is out of control! But PTA meetings—along with the rest of the country—are run democratically, and freedom of speech is guaranteed. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t just throw someone out for having a condescending attitude. Kuniko was unable to take her frustrations out on Mrs. Ishioka directly, so she came home frustrated, seething like a witch’s cauldron on the verge of boiling over.
    And that was when Wataru decided to ask about his allowance.
    “Oh, so you want a big allowance, just like that Ishioka boy?” Kuniko snapped. “You really disappoint me, Wataru.”
    Wataru didn’t know—couldn’t know—how he might have disappointed his mother, but he reflexively apologized just the same. Retreating to his room, he felt like a sinking ship, plunging to the bottom of an unfathomably deep sea. He resolved never to broach the subject of money with his parents again.
    Wataru was a logical kid; he had his father to thank for that. He knew it wasn’t right for children to carry around large sums of money. And he knew it was better to work for himself rather than focus purely on financial rewards. Okay, Dad, fine, I get it. Still, it was only natural for him to want some kind of reassurance. All he needed was an explanation, something that he could parrot when classmates accused his family of being overly strict. He never really doubted his parents’ good intentions, anyway. A simple conversation would have been all he needed to turn the situation around and wear their strictness as a badge of honor.
    As it was, Wataru got sad every time he thought about the incident. It was simply a case of bad timing. It was nobody’s fault, but he felt bad just the same.