Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Managing Director Mori was the one who arrived the next day to accompany Kento to his appointment. Mori raked a hand through his wavy hair and looked worriedly at Kento.
     “I’m responsible for what happens to you,” he said as he and Kento walked to Miyashita Clinic, located in front of the back gates of the school. “I promised your mother I would take good care of you.”
     Kento stuck his lip out, feeling again like he was being treated like a child.
     “I can take my health insurance card and go by myself.” He hadn’t told anyone about crying last night. “I’m fine on my own,” he announced confidently.
     “You might be, but I still want to hear about it from the doctor. It’s my job to keep an eye on you since you’re a part of our agency, Kento.”
     Kento was disappointed. He had actually planned not to say anything at all to the agency if he was told there was nothing wrong. He was starting to become worried that it would affect his audition prospects.
     “Anyway, I’m fine,” he reassured Mori, although he didn’t have much of a basis to say so.

     Miyashita Clinic was an old one-storey Japanese house surrounded by a fence of dark wooden slats. The fence ended in magnificent wooden gates, which were topped with a roof. On the gate pillar hung a sign that said “Miyashita Clinic” in brush writing.
     A white signboard was propped up in front of the gates indicating the hours of operation. The entrance appeared to be through the smaller door beside the gates.
     “You don’t see these kinds of clinics nowadays,” Mori commented. It was a short walk from the door to the entrance into the house, and the area around the pathway was lined with black pebbles.
     They opened the glass-panelled sliding door and were met with a spacious area for taking off the shoes. A wooden shoe shelf, like the ones found at school, was placed against the wall. The blue linoleum floor was polished to a sheen.
     A nurse with a ponytail who looked about thirty was sitting at the reception desk.
     “This must be your first visit,” she said, her fox-like eyes smiling. “The doctor is seeing someone else at the moment. Could you wait for a little while?”
     Eventually, an older man with a burgeoning girth emerged from the consultation room.
     “Oh, Mr. Kawano, for your next appointment, could you take a sample of your urine first thing in the morning and bring it with you?” Orihara’s voice called after him. “Mrs. Nakagawa, could you give him a urine container?”
     “Yes, Doctor,” Nurse Nakagawa chirped energetically. She went to the cabinet and took out a small test-tube-like container. Kawano widened his eyes and adjusted his spectacles.
     “Why, you can’t expect me to aim into that tiny thing!”
     “Oh, Mr. Kawano, please,” Nurse Nakagawa burst out laughing. “You just need to put it into a paper cup or something first, and then put it in here.”
     “Ah, that’s what you meant,” Kawano roared in laughter along with her, then fished some change out of his pocket and put it into the small round saucer at the reception desk.
     “Well, see you, then.” With that, he left the clinic. Mori watched him leave, looking bewildered by the relaxed atmosphere.
     “Next person, please,” came Orihara’s voice, and Mori and Kento entered the consultation room.
     The room was about thirty square metres in area, with a desk and round stool in the centre and an examination table against the wall. The built-in shelf near the window contained test tubes, microscopes, and various medicine bottles.
     Orihara was at the desk in a lab coat, filling in the patient record. When he noticed the two come in, he looked up and said, “Ah.” Mori politely inclined his head.
     “We’re not related by blood, but I’ve come in place of Kento’s parents since they’re overseas.”
     “Let’s take an X-ray first,” said Orihara, and went into the room behind him.
     They heard some shuffling inside before Orihara popped his head out from behind the heavy-looking lead door.
     “If you could come in. Just Kento, please.”
     Kento went inside. It was a small room with no windows, and most of it was occupied by a strange-looking machine. An arm that looked like a power shovel extended from it, and there was a bed large enough for a person to lie down on.
     “Can you lie down here?”
     “Is this what an X-ray is?” Kento looked curiously around him.
     “Yes. Don’t move. I’m going to take two pictures.”
     Orihara laid Kento down on the bed, and placed a metal board under his feet.
     “What’s that?”
     “You’re full of questions, aren’t you?” Orihara laughed as he explained. “The X-ray film is inside this flat metal box. Now, keep still.”
     Orihara moved the mechanical arm over Kento’s right foot. After the X-rays were taken, Orihara took the metallic board and went into another room.
     Mori and Kento were left behind in the consulting room. About fifteen minutes later, Orihara finally returned. The sleeves of his lab coat were rolled up, and he was holding a damp photograph.
     “It’s developed.”
     “Doctor, you developed that yourself?” Mori exclaimed in surprise.
     “Yes. At the university hospitals, we have radiologists and other staff to do everything for us, but here, I do everything myself. Like examining blood under a microscope, and all that. I do learn a lot from it,” Orihara said, laughing as he hung the damp film against a light box.
     “Of course, having an automatic developing machine makes things very easy.”
     In the photo, against a black background, was what looked like a white leg bone.
     Orihara scrutinized the photo carefully. He let out a short breath, then he pulled out a flat, square box from under his desk and extracted a similar-looking X-ray film. He hung it next to Kento’s X-ray.
     “This is called the tibia, the bone of your shin. This here is the patella, or your kneecap.”
     Orihara pointed at the film as he spoke.
     “The ligament that supports the kneecap is attached to this, the tibial tuberosity. Look: can you see the difference between Kento’s film and this one?”
     Mori compared the two images.
     “This part on Kento’s knee looks bumpier than the other one.”
     Orihara nudged his glasses up and nodded.
     “You’re right. I had suspicions when I examined Kento’s leg yesterday, but now from the photo we know for sure.”
     Kento shivered as he sat perched on the stool, his fists clenched in his lap.
     “What am I sick with?” he asked Orihara, who had his back turned to him. Orihara turned his body around to face Kento.
     “It’s called Osgood-Schlatter disease, a disease of your bone. It’s nothing bad. It’s seen often in growing adolescents.”
     Both Mori and Kento swallowed nervously, waiting for Orihara’s next words on the disease they had never even heard of. Orihara went on to explain briskly.
     “If too much stress is put on the bone during a growth spurt, from too much exercise, for example, this causes an abnormality in the tibial tuberosity. This causes severe pain in the knee during exercise.”
     Kento’s anxiety was somewhat lessened from Orihara’s reassurance that it wasn’t anything bad. Nevertheless, he stared at Orihara intently and asked, “How will it get better?”
     “As I said earlier, excessive exercise is one of the causes, so you’ll have to avoid exercise and stay rested for a while.”
     “Does that mean…” Kento widened his eyes and turned to Mori. Mori voiced his question.
     “Kento is doing dance right now. Are you saying he would have to take some time off?”
     Orihara looked back at the images.
     “In mild cases, reducing exercises is often enough. But in Kento’s case, the bone looks to be in quite bad condition. Dancing is very intense exercise and is particularly stressful on the knees. I’m sorry, but he will have to stop.”
     “No way!” Kento found himself yelling. “I can’t just quit dancing!”
     Orihara calmly looked at Kento. “Kento, it doesn’t mean you’re never going to dance again. You’re only taking a short break. Think about it carefully. You’re mature enough to understand. You’re not a child anymore, are you?”
     The word “child” was enough to make him shut up. He swallowed his complaints.
     He’s right. If I put up a fuss now…
     Mori might lose faith in Kento completely, and tell his mother that he didn’t think he could handle taking care of Kento after all. Kento had just told her not to worry because he wasn’t a child anymore. Now was the time to prove that he was mature.
     Kento set his face while he cast his thoughts frantically about. He nodded meekly, then flashed a smile at Mori.
     “The doctor’s absolutely right. I’ll follow his advice and focus on getting my leg better first. Could you hold off on firing me until then?”
     A look of relief crossed Mori’s face.
     “You’re taking it like a man, Kento. I’m impressed. Of course I won’t fire you. Even if you can’t dance, you can use the time for vocal training.”
     Despite that, Mori’s eyes were coloured with disappointment, and Kento knew that the road to debuting with the new group had been closed off to him.
     “For how long am I not allowed to exercise?” he murmured to Orihara.
     “At least six months. One year, if it looks bad. We’ll take an X-ray every month to see how you’re progressing and decide from there. You’re only banned from hard exercise. Otherwise, you can live your life as you normally would.”
     Mori parted with Kento at the dorm entrance.
     “I’ll e-mail your mother about this, but I want you to give her a call and tell her about it, too. Understand?” He clapped Kento on the shoulder. “I have high expectations for you. This injury doesn’t change that. Your chance will come, so be patient and work hard.”
     Although Mori’s tone was gentle, Kento could tell that this was his final notice. His debut was not going to happen.

     Tomoya was at his desk when Kento got back to his room. The boy turned around with a concerned look.
     “How was it, Kento?”
     Kento took off his jumper and sat down on the bed. “They said it’s no big deal,” he said, making sure his voice was bright.
     “That’s good!” Tomoya said happily.
     “But I won’t be allowed to dance for a while.”
     “What? Really?” Tomoya nearly kicked his chair over as he approached the bed. “Why not?”
     “I can’t put too much strain on my leg. The doctor said I have to stop dancing for at least six months,” he said bitterly, then glared at Tomoya. “Aren’t you glad to have one less person to compete against?”
     “What… that’s not how I feel at all.” Tomoya chewed his lip. “I’m really worried about you, you know. Why would I ever be happy that you’re injured?”
     Tomoya’s voice was strained and he sounded like he was about to cry. Kento loathed himself. Tomoya had looked out for him when he first transferred to this school. He knew well enough that Tomoya was a cheerful, honest boy who wasn’t two-faced.
     Nevertheless, he was unable to apologize. Kento sat at his desk without saying any more.
     It’s all his fault.
     An image of Orihara in his lab coat rose in his mind.
     It’s all because he said I had the knee condition.
     He knew he was just looking for someone to blame, but in this state, he could not cope without finding someone to make into the bad guy. Yet again made aware of his own childishness, Kento spiralled once more into self-loathing.

     Kento saw Orihara again two days later, after school. Kento was not involved in any after-school clubs since he already belonged to an entertainment agency.
     But now that he had no dance lessons to go to, Kento found himself with too much time to spare after classes. Tomoya had once invited him to come to the studio, anyway.
     “Let’s go together,” he had said. “You can do voice training over there.”
     But the last thing Kento wanted to deal with was the pitying glances of his group mates. He wanted even less to wallow in self-pity by thinking that they were all actually happy that he was out.
     “I’m not going,” he said firmly. He felt miserable just watching Tomoya get ready to go out, so he left the room in a hurry.
     There was a small wooded area behind the dormitory, where the coloured leaves from Gingko and Oriental plane trees fluttered to the ground.
     Kento had always been so busy with lessons at his agency that he had no idea about this peaceful place. But the trees looked somewhat forlorn in the low-hanging autumn afternoon sun, and he was far from in the mood to enjoy nature.
     “Damn it!”
     He angrily kicked at the heaps of fallen leaves on the dark earth. Just then, he thought he heard soft chuckling.
     He turned around to see Orihara in a casual outfit of pants and a shirt with rolled-up sleeves. He had a black doctor’s bag in one hand and was standing a little way off, looking at him.
     “You again?” Kento said. “You sure come around often.”
     “Yeah. I got asked to do a house call.” Orihara adjusted his glasses. “You look like you have some free time on your hands,” he remarked.
     “Yeah. Suddenly I have nothing to do,” Kento said spitefully.
     “Then, how would you like to come over and have some tea?”
     Kento knew that even if he went back to his room, Tomoya wouldn’t be there. And he didn’t feel like going back to study all alone.
     “Okay,” Kento said decisively, and followed after Orihara. “I haven’t got permission from the dorm to go out, but they shouldn’t have a problem if I’m with you, right?”
     Orihara returned with Kento to Miyashita Clinic, where Nurse Nakagawa greeted them with a smile.
     “How nice of you to come by,” she said.
     “Mrs. Nakagawa, we’ll be having coffee in the living room. If a patient comes, could you let me know?”
     Orihara walked past the consultation room and invited Kento into the living room in the back. The room was spacious and Western-style, and about as large as the consultation room. There was a sofa, a large table, and a sideboard overflowing with golf competition trophies, Hakata dolls, and other knick-knacks. There was also an ancient-looking stereo system.
     Orihara went into the kitchen adjoining the living room and turned the coffee maker on.
     “Have a seat right there. I’ll bring your coffee over.”
     There was a rack beside the antique record player containing stacks of LPs.
     “Wow. This is so cool!” Kento extracted a few records and examined them with interest.
     “You find vinyl records cool?” Orihara appeared with a tray, laughing. “But they’re outdated. It’s all about CDs now, isn’t it?”
     “Actually, no,” Kento countered. “You need vinyl records to do a DJ mix.”
     A look of understanding crossed Orihara’s face as he put the tray down on the table.
     “I see. I remember now, you’re a dancer, right? Dance music, huh.”
     Kento was abruptly brought back to the reality that he was no longer allowed to dance. He put the LPs back on the shelf and looked at his feet.
     “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t dance, anyway,” he said brusquely.
     “Don’t talk about it like that,” Orihara said reprovingly. “It’s not like you have to give up dancing for the rest of your life. Once your leg is better, you can dance whenever you want.”
     “But there’s no point if I can’t dance now,” Kento shot back irritably as he glared at Orihara. “Now I can’t even try out for the audition, and I’m going to fall behind everyone else. It’s all over!”
     He knew he was being immature, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out.
     “You’d never understand how I feel, Doctor!”
     Orihara looked steadily back at Kento. “No, I do,” he said quietly.
     “As if you would!”
     Orihara sighed and picked up his mug of coffee. “No, I do understand.”
     Kento faltered at his grave tone. Orihara took a sip of coffee and continued.
     “I went to Shonan Private School for senior high school. Same as you. I was on the track team, and it was my dream to enter the Ekiden relay race.”
     “You were a runner?” Kento was surprised. He had assumed that Orihara was a bookish student because of his slender frame and glasses. “You don’t look like an athlete.”
     Orihara smiled wryly at Kento’s frank response. “I guess not,” he said. “But anyway, I ended up injuring my knee. Everyone told me not to push myself until I was better, but….”
     Kento found himself listening intently to this unexpectedly personal story. Orihara said he had felt like he was being left behind, just like Kento, and had secretly continued to train at night.
     “In the end, I had to be put into the hospital for quite a long time. My worst fears came true: I was never allowed to run again.”
     Kento stood rooted to the spot in front of the record player. Orihara fixed him with an earnest gaze.
     “I understand the panic you’re feeling. Really well. That’s why I don’t want you to push yourself too far.”
     “Oh, now I see.” Kento felt his resistance towards Orihara diminish instantly.
     “Come here and have some coffee.”
     Kento promptly went to his side and sat down on the sofa. He looked at Orihara as he brought the mug of coffee to his lips. Orihara’s eyes softened as he looked back at him.
     “In a year or so, you’ll be able to dance just as well as you used to. Remember what your manager said? You can use that time to do voice training or other stuff.”
     Maybe he was right. He began to feel like it was a better idea than pushing himself now and never being able to dance again.
     “What made you want to start dance?” Orihara asked him with a smile.
     “Hmm, let’s see,” Kento said thoughtfully, “well, I guess it’s because you don’t have to speak the same language to dance together.”
     “Hm?” Orihara looked a little puzzled, so Kento began to explain.
     “My dad was a photographer, and when I was little our whole family used to travel to a lot of places together. He’s working in New York right now.”
     They had travelled from Mongolia to China, Siberia, and crossed the Bering Strait to Alaska to descend to South America. In every country, Kento had been able to make friends just by jumping into the circle of people and dancing with them.
     “Even in Harlem, New York. Everyone was really good at street dance, and they would let me into the group and teach me even though I didn’t speak the language.”
     He would feel a sense of unity when he danced with them.
     “It’s a really great feeling.”
     Orihara nodded. “Running on the track is the same. I used to get that feeling when I ran with other people. Once we crossed the finish line, it didn’t matter who was on your team or who wasn’t. After the competition was over, you’d just feel like you’ve accomplished something big together.”
     “Yeah! That’s exactly what it’s like!” Kento couldn’t help but shout with joy at being understood. “?Oh, sorry for yelling.” He stuck his tongue out sheepishly. Orihara’s eyes narrowed tenderly as he looked at Kento.
     “Good, do you feel better now?”
     “A bit.”
     “Doctor, there’s a patient here to see you,” Nurse Nakagawa’s voice came from the consultation room.
     “Alright, I’m coming.” Orihara stood up.
     “Can I visit again?” Kento asked. Coming to Orihara’s clinic seemed more enjoyable than being alone in his dorm room. “I have nothing to do, anyway. And you don’t seem too busy, either, Doctor.”
     “Feel free to come anytime,” Orihara said, laughing.