Beep-Beep

"Hana! You have to wear your school skirt!!!"

Today was the entrance ceremony, and the moment Bora tried to stuff me into a skirt I fought her with everything I had and ran. I was tearing around the place in nothing but my panties.

Weren't there any pants? No matter how I turned it over, a skirt felt wrong. I never made the hallway. Bora's hands caught me, and I ended up dangling from her grip until I had no choice but to put the thing on.

"Bora, I'm a grown-up. Do I really have to go to elementary school?"

No matter how I looked at it, elementary school and I did not belong together. Tell me to go back to college and I still would have hesitated. Elementary school?

Bora, though, seemed entirely unmoved by how pitiful I looked. We had worked something out between us, at least, so I didn't have to go every day. Three days a week or so was enough.

Starlight Elementary wasn't run like other elementary schools. It operated more like a university: earn the credits the school required, and you could graduate. Three days of attendance was plenty to hit what I needed, so I could agree to going. To a point.

If they'd told me to show up every single day, I honestly would have refused. I had already finished a full formal education.

"You're not a grown-up, Hana, so you have to go to school."

"Hnnn..."

Just as Bora said, anyone looking only at the outside would see an elementary schooler, so I had nothing to answer with. No matter how early I went to bed or how much I ate, my height showed not the slightest interest in growing. I wished I were as tall as Bora...

And so I ended up in a skirt that didn't even fit. Pants were comfortable. A skirt was something the old me could never have imagined.

The mirror gave me back my own face. Cute enough that if you had a niece like this, you'd want to take her out every day and buy her something delicious. The baby fat still clung to my cheeks, and the looks could have put your average child actor to shame.

Give me a little more time to grow and I could probably pass for an idol or a model. Not that I had any intention of taking a job like that.

I pinched the hem and gave it a little shake. Unlike pants, the wide-open space underneath let the wind pour straight through. Easy to move in, but the feeling was strange. It amazed me that women wore skirts even in the dead of winter.

I was weak to the cold. Baring my legs in winter was unthinkable...

Even now I had thick stockings on. Being told to get through a winter bare-legged was absurd.

A ribbon sat on my chest. Noticing it had gone a little crooked, I nudged it this way and that with my fingers, then checked the rest of the outfit for anything out of place. Bora was busy with something else and had stepped out of the room for a moment.

When she came back in, she didn't look like a researcher at all. She looked like a young parent. Makeup, and the fact that she'd once eaten one of my apples—the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ones that made people younger—left her with the complete air of a college student.

You would never have guessed she was in her late twenties. Anyone who saw us would assume I was the child she'd had after a slip-up in high school.

"Hana, all ready?"

"Yeah. We can head out."

I nodded as I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠answered. I'd packed my Little Magician Rumi backpack, and the uniform was on without a single flaw anyone could pick at. If anyone saw me, they would have clapped and shouted bravo at the perfection of it.

I left the room and took the elevator down. The elementary school was a fair distance off, so we had to drive, and today's driver was Bora. The moment we reached the parking garage I bounced aboard her car.

Step outside and I couldn't help being happy. It had been a long time since I'd been this excited.

The bag on my back was heavy—writing tools, snacks for break time, and the tablet I needed for class. In my day we'd just used notebooks and textbooks. These days, they said, elementary kids studied on tablets.

Properly speaking, the virtue of studying was holding a pencil or a mechanical pencil and writing words into a book. Say that out loud and I'd obviously get called a boomer. Anyway, one look at Rumi's illustration on the stuffed, bulging bag and the tension drained out of me.

It felt like only the day before yesterday that I'd been loafing around the building with nothing to do, and now I was going to school. The car growled forward. The closer we got, the harder my heart beat. Was I really going to live a school life alongside third graders?

I couldn't believe it. There was no world in which a grown man went back to elementary school. Embarrassed, I fidgeted with an innocent sleeve. The uniform must have been expensive; it was soft, and it felt good under my fingers.

We arrived at Starlight Elementary. Because today was the entrance ceremony, the place swarmed with people who had brought their families. It was a school with serious pull, so I even spotted faces I'd seen on TV. For no good reason I got nervous and clung tight to Bora's sleeve.

There were so many people that one wrong step and I could end up a lost child. As if she'd read my mind, Bora held my hand tight. Her hand was as warm as a hand warmer. We followed the signs and went into the auditorium.

Maybe it was the low birth rate, but there were fewer people inside than there had been out front. Back when I was in school you'd get ten classes of forty; these days, they said, there weren't even a quarter that many.

Looking around, I heard tiny chirping laughter, like chicks going peep-peep.

"Hana, you just sit in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this chair, okay? Don't sneak off anywhere!"

Unfortunately, I had to part from Bora. Not that she was leaving for good. She would be watching me from the parents' section. I nodded and set her at ease.

"I'm not a kid, so you can go without worrying, Bora."

"Right, right. Then since you're not a kid, I can head home without worrying, can't I?"

She really acted as if she might leave me behind. Startled, I shook my head hard and grabbed her hand. Even so, staying together for an entrance ceremony was only human.

"No, Bora! You can't actually leave!"

When I made a fuss of it, Bora laughed and stroked my hair.

"Where would I go, leaving you behind? I'll be over in the parents' seats, so when the ceremony's over, call me. Got it?"

"Yeah!"

I nodded with everything I had. Thankfully, it didn't seem like Bora was going home. Spending the entrance ceremony alone and lonely was, just to imagine it, not a pleasant experience.

So I sat in the chair and waited, and far off I could see Bora filming me with her phone. I raised both hands in a V. Proof that I was here.

But my interest faded soon enough, and I had to surrender myself to the usual run of an entrance ceremony. A predictable ritual. Salute the flag, then the distinguished guests come out and offer a few words of congratulations.

I'd been too nervous about the ceremony the day before to sleep much, and a yawn escaped me. Looking around, plenty of kids seemed to be in the same boat, wearing faces that said they were bored. A few were already nodding off, heads bobbing. I was not going to fall asleep like the kids around me!

Mmm...

I thought I'd only closed my eyes for a second, but a great deal seemed to have passed.

This couldn't be!

I'd fallen asleep just like the children! Flushed with a pointless shame, I looked toward the parents' section where Bora had been sitting. She wasn't in her seat. She seemed to have gone somewhere for a moment, and in that gap the entrance ceremony had already ended.

I called her.

I'd more or less meant to stay in the chair. But people swarmed in to clear the seats, ready to pack the place up, so I climbed down and started wandering here and there. Whatever Bora had told me a moment ago was no longer in my memory.

I was roaming the auditorium with the Rumi backpack on when I felt a presence behind me. Some enormous body stood at my back. Like a broken robot, I creaked my head slowly around.

An unidentified giant of a man was staring straight at me. His presence overwhelmed me. The giant spoke.

"You're Hana? The one who lives at the Starlight Research Institute."

In that instant a chill climbed my spine.

The thing Bora always said. If a strange man comes up to you all friendly, be on your guard.

It was already too late to run. And the place was deserted—I would be overpowered before I could even call for help.

Before the giant could say another word, I yanked out the Emergency Buzzer and pulled the pin.

A sound sharp enough to hurt just from hearing it rang through Starlight Elementary.

It was spring.