Pocket Change

Takamatsu Chihiro couldn’t have made it home fast enough, his legs pounding on the sidewalk as he bounded past the familiar bakery that meant he only had two blocks to go before he reached his destination. The scents that wafted out were warm and sweet, and they made the academy student’s stomach growl loudly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, and the fleeting thought about his hunger caused the brunette to stop in front of the confectionary and peek inside.

Rows and rows of baked goods were spread throughout the store, and a young girl with slick straight brown hair was taking a tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven, the sight so delectable the boy had to force himself to look away. He clutched the small makeshift cloth bag tightly in his hand, and strained himself to keep walking. There was no point in staring at what he couldn’t have.

The young boy continued the amble to his home, though now he had begun to walk more slowly, without the bounce in his step he had earlier. The cloth pouch suddenly began to weigh heavily in his hand, and the contents jingled loudly, as though the sound was magnified for his small ears to hear.

That morning, the eight year old had completed the simple task of pulling out weeds for an elderly couple who lived a few streets over. The couple had heard that Chihiro was always looking for simple tasks to complete for small tips, so instead of paying a gardener to do it for them, they called on the serious boy with the olive eyes. Chihiro worked all morning, as he always took pride in any assignment he completed. By the time he was through, the couple was so impressed that they paid him 1,000 yen; almost double what the boy had ever been paid for before.

The money jingled in the stained cloth he always brought to carry his earnings, though it had never been this full before. He suddenly felt a strong temptation to turn back and head to the bakery, just to buy as many of the small cakes and breads his arms could carry home. Even just a cookie wouldn’t have cost much, and then he wouldn’t have to explain to his mother why he had brought home so many sweets.

Yet…

Gripping the bag tightly, Chihiro chastised himself for being so selfish. He had slowly been saving up the pocket change he earned from odd jobs for one goal; to buy his sister, Kita Banri, the pretty mauve skirt she often admired in the window display of the cheap linens store they lived close to. Over the years, Banri had been forced to wear Chihiro’s outgrown clothing, and though the boy had always been careful with his belongings, it was easy to tell the small amount of shirts and pants were getting worn out. His plum-haired sister had never worn a dress or a skirt, items she often admired when they passed by the stores in Konohagakure’s business district. The boy wasn’t about to give up the opportunity to make his sister happy over a cookie.

With new determination, Chihiro retrieved his house key from his shirt pocket, and unlocked the door quietly before entering. To his surprise, he saw his mother, Tachibana Takara seated on the loveseat located across the room, her deep green eyes popping from the effects of her smoked eyeshadow and ebony mascara. Whenever the two were in public together, vendors would sometimes comment about how Chihiro clearly got his eyes from his mother, although the brunette knew they weren’t blood related. Takara reminded him of this fact often, though she never mentioned this to the vendors, instead smiling and thanking them before patting the top of his head in a gentle manner.

“Chihiro, sweetie. Where have you been?” she asked, her voice smooth like honey, beckoning the boy forward with a manicured nail. Chihiro noted the shiny bracelet on her left wrist was new.

“I just went over to Susumu’s,” he found himself lying, putting the cloth pouch behind his back instinctively. The fib had tumbled out of his mouth immediately, and it was too late for him to take it back. He noted that Takara’s eyes narrowed at him, if only slightly.

“You spend so much time with that boy,” the ebony-haired woman replied, shaking her head as though she were scolding him, though her features were teasing. She pushed back a ringlet of hair, allowing it to spill behind her shoulders and down her back in an elegant manner. “I suppose it’s no wonder, though. He is your only friend. Why don’t you ever bring him over?” she asked, not unkindly, when the brunette approached. She motioned for him to kiss her cheek, which he did.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, who?” Takara pressed, her eminence stained lips twitching slightly.

“I don’t know, mommy.”

“That’s better, sweetie,” she said, her painted lips settling into a smile. “I just want my big boy to know that mommy will do anything to make sure he’s happy. So it hurts me when you lie like this,” she sighed, cocking her head to the side as though she was truly hurt by her son’s actions, her full lips curling into an exaggerated pout. “What do you have behind your back, baby?”

She stroked his hair gently, her nails massaging his scalp in a soothing manner, though Chihiro could tell by his mother’s hardened expression that she was anything but calm at the moment. Sometimes, when he was younger and his eyes were closed, he would forget anything bad his mother ever did when she ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on his curls. It had always confused him how one moment, his mother could be kind and gentle, and the next, cold as ice. The brunette eventually stopped questioning and just assumed there was something wrong with him.

“I’m sorry. I just worked an odd job is all. I pulled weeds for Fukui Daiki and Kai-”

“Let me see.”

Looking down, the cat-eyed boy handed over the pouch to his mother, then watched as she crinkled her nose at how stained the cloth was. Takara took out the money before handing the makeshift bag back to Chihiro, and silently began to count the amount her son had earned.

“How did Daiki and Kai know you were doing odd jobs?” the young woman eventually asked, bopping Chihiro’s nose. The boy’s stomach began to knot. She knew exactly how they had heard, but she wanted him to say it aloud.

“You told people,” he replied, to which Takara snapped her fingers.

“Exactly. They wouldn’t have even known if I hadn’t taken the time out of my busy schedule to tell them, and who knows how many others. Sweetie, I wouldn’t have to take this from you if things were easy. But you know how hard it is for us. I took you and your brothers and sisters in to give you a better life. Where would you be without me?” she asked, putting a hand over her heart as though the mere thought was horrible enough.

“At the orphanage,” Chihiro admitted softly. It was true. Without Takara, Chihiro and all his brothers and sisters would have been stuck at Konoha’s orphanage, with very little freedom.

“And you know those poor dears don’t have a good life. No one there would love you like I do, baby. How could they?” she tutted.

“I just wanted to get Banri a skirt,” he whispered softly, feeling like the ungrateful son Takara made him out to be. He should have given the money to his mother immediately. She had put a roof over their heads.

Touched, Takara brought her son to her chest, and stroked his curls.

“What good is a skirt for Banri if we’re homeless? I know you just want to help her, but sometimes you don’t think,” she sighed. “It’s because you’re young. I know better, darling. When you’re my age you’ll understand.” With that, Takara patted Chihiro’s back as a signal for him to move away from her.

“Since you’ve been such a good boy lately I have a special treat for you. A nice hot loaf of bread. Go wash up and I’ll give it to you,” she smiled, feeling pleased with herself when Chihiro nodded. He turned to leave.

“Oh, and Chihiro?”

The brunette stopped, then faced his mother once more.

“Please stop giving your portions of food to your siblings. I’d hate for you to starve.”