What It Means to Protect in the Community

I apologize for this preachy post so early in the morning.

As usual, I was chatting with my third-year middle school daughter while eating breakfast, and the topic turned to her friend K, who had quit their club activity.

“Isn't K free after school now that they've quit the club?”

“Oh, it seems like they've been going to Kohiro.”

“Oh, so they drifted over there.”

Since I am a local resident, I went to Kohiro countless times when I was in elementary school. It wasn't that I didn't have a place at home, but my house didn't have a game console, and my only entertainment was watching the sexy scenes in the reruns of suspense dramas at 3:00 PM, so I often went to Kohiro even by myself. If I went, there was always someone there to play with, and even if there wasn't, just reading manga in the library was a good way to kill time.

Yes, that was strictly a story from my elementary school days.

And as time passed, I gave birth to a child and became a mother.

When my son was still a toddler, I started going to Kohiro before he was even a year old, and eventually, I became known as the “Master of Kohiro.”

I mean, I was just so incredibly bored.
I didn't really like children that much to begin with, so I didn't know what to do when I was with small children, and I didn't really understand how to play with them, so I thought I might as well take him to the nearby Kohiro. After that, I started going every day, eventually made mom friends, and before I knew it, I was called the “Master of Kohiro.” I was really well taken care of until my son started kindergarten. There were no weird mom-friend troubles, and even now, we greet each other if we meet in the neighborhood. More than half of them have moved away, but it was truly a place of fun memories for me.

What bothered me at that time in Kohiro were the middle and high school students who didn't go to school.

Even though it was a weekday morning, several boys and girls in school uniforms would come to Kohiro. They would chat in the library in the back, and just when I thought they had disappeared somewhere, they would be smoking nearby, then come back and chat again.

At first, I wondered if that was okay, so I watched in silence for a while, but one day I asked a mom whose child was one grade older than my son (the “Grand Master of Kohiro,” lol).
“What's up with those kids?”
Then the Grand Master said,
“They are kids who have no place at home or at school, so they have no choice but to come here.”
I took those words in, and without even considering their circumstances, I said,
“They come during the time when small children gather, skip school, smoke, talk and laugh loudly—honestly, it's a bit scary. I'm honestly scared that they might do something to the small children.”
Then the Grand Master said,
“As a parent, you're worried, right? But you know, those kids have their own circumstances too. Circumstances where they can't stay at home or at school. Since there are so many adults here, So-chan's mom (that's me), if they do something, you shouldn't just watch in silence; you have to warn them. Isn't that the role of an adult?”
The Grand Master continued,
“Besides, those kids are still cute. They are staying here. If this place didn't exist, they would eventually go to Shibuya or Ikebukuro (Toyoko wasn't a thing yet). If that happens, they will truly go where parents' eyes can't reach. I think there is meaning in this place existing to prevent that.”

I felt like I had been hit on the head with a hammer.
I was only thinking about myself.
I was flaunting my sense of justice, and while saying I was protecting children, I wasn't protecting anything at all.

The Grand Master was close to those kids and even helped them with their studies sometimes.
It wasn't just talk; the Grand Master was truly there for them.

“So-chan's mom, from now on, please talk to those kids. You don't have to try to have a conversation, just a greeting is fine. The children in this community, after all, we have to protect them within this community.”

Taking those words to heart, from the next day on, I started greeting the middle and high school students who came to Kohiro.
“Good morning!” “How are you?”
That was all I could do, but eventually, they started replying with “Good morning.” Once that happened, it was like a chain reaction, and many other adults started talking to the middle and high school students. Gradually, the relationship between both sides became more open, and eventually, the middle and high school students even started participating in recreational hand games for the younger children.

＊

Currently, Kohiro is open for infants in the morning, elementary school students in the afternoon, and a portion of it is open for middle school students and older from 5:00 PM to 9:00 PM after closing. Since there is a welfare office on the second floor, the adults there handle things like locking up.

To be honest, it's not that there are no problems with the kids who go there.
Even if they are teenagers, since it is a place where boys and girls gather, I can imagine that there are things that cannot be settled with idealistic talk. However, there are always the eyes of the community and the eyes of adults there. That is why they manage to stay on this side of the line.

I think it takes a lot of courage for a still-young child to get on a train alone, get off at Shinjuku Station, go through the downtown area, and reach that plaza. Do the kids have a reason they have to go that far? What is the reason they have to go even that far? Perhaps there is no reason, and they are just driven by impulses to go there. Are they going there to meet their temporary friends, and in that place, to destroy themselves, or to be destroyed?

However, the price to pay after going to that place is extremely high.

★I will write about the sudden name change (Who is Aya Saotome lol, I'm not following anyone like that lol) next time, so please wait a little longer.