Short Story: Silver Grass and Goldenrod #RainbowCreationClub

"If you get a perfect score on the next test, there will be a reward from me! Everyone, please do your best!"

The class buzzed with excitement at the teacher's words.

Well-defined features, cool eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips that held a harmonious smile. Every part was balanced, and his short black hair only served to accentuate it... Mr. Harayama, our homeroom teacher, was, by anyone's definition, the perfect embodiment of the word "handsome."
Moreover, he was funny and kind. The way he treated every student with a smile, regardless of who they were, created the image of a good teacher, as if to back up his good looks.

…To me, that smile felt like a mask.
Everyone else seemed to want the reward from the teacher, but I looked out the window, thinking it was childish to lure us with rewards.

An autumn cloudy sky. The high sky stretched out wide and white, and I sighed without being noticed.


I finished club activities and left the school gate.
As it began to get dark, the streetlights vaguely signaled the beginning of the night.

Then, someone called out to me from behind.

"Hey, are you on your way home? Good work at club today."

I turned around, a little surprised. The owner of that familiar voice was Mr. Harayama. I frowned slightly at his well-defined face, which still held a smile. I just answered "thanks" and kept my mouth shut, but the teacher started walking beside me as if it were natural. An uncomfortable atmosphere hung in the air, at least for me.

"Club activities must be tough, but how is your test studying going?"
Whether he knew how I felt or not, the teacher continued to talk to me.

"…Well, I'm doing okay, I guess."

"You're always excellent, aren't you? I see your hard work, you know."

The teacher's hair swayed slightly in the cold evening wind. I pulled the zipper of my windbreaker up to my neck.

"Teacher… can I ask you something that's been on my mind?"

I thought I'd never have a chance to talk to him alone like this, so I decided to bring it up.

"What is it? Please, ask me anything."

I felt like the teacher's eyes sparkled a little.

"…Teacher, you said there'd be a reward if we worked hard and got a perfect score, but do you think the result is what's important?"

The teacher didn't even lose his smile as I pursed my lips.

"That's a good question. I… would say I value the process more. Results are certainly important, but I believe the effort and the time spent thinking leading up to them are what help people grow. The reward is just a small round of applause for that hard work."

I felt a sense of discomfort at that answer. Wanting to find the source of that discomfort within myself, I asked again.

"Do you really see the effort, teacher? Without tracing it back from the score?"

Autumn insects were chirping with beautiful voices in the grass right beside us. I didn't know the names or the shapes of those insects.
The teacher also glanced at the grass.

"Of course. I don't just look at the result, which is the score; I properly look at the process and the traces of effort that led there. Even small ingenuity and perseverance are wonderful forms of achievement."

Effort. Achievement.
I couldn't help but feel that those two were connected in the teacher's mind, and it made me restless.

"But… if I worked really hard and got a perfect score, and then another time I got a 50, do you think you'd praise me the same way?"

I threw the question at him from the side. The teacher put his hand to his chin for a moment.

"Hmm, the way I praise you might be a little different. But the sentiment is the same. When you get a perfect score, I want to praise the achievement, and when you get a 50, I want to praise the effort and growth. Both are important steps."
Moving forward… I clearly felt that the teacher valued that.

"Teacher, this is going to sound really strange… but can you truly see the meaning in all of these: a perfect score you get without trying, a perfect score you get by working hard, a 50 you get by slacking off, and a 50 you get even after working hard…?"

The teacher furrowed his brows slightly.
"That's a difficult question. But I believe there is a proper meaning in each of them. If you get a perfect score without trying, it's your natural talent; if you get a 50 even after trying, it's your perseverance. I want to make sure I don't miss the traces of effort in any score."

Saying that, the teacher showed a calm, almost artificial smile. …Ah, this person is, through and through, an ideal educator… a guide.
I looked toward the sunset that had sunk far away.
"But teacher? A 50 is still a 50, right? What do you do about the feelings of someone who got a 50 after working hard and not being rewarded, when they look at someone who got a 100 without trying?"
The teacher looked in the same direction as me while thinking a little.

"That is… a moment when your heart aches a little, isn't it… But you know, the feeling of comparing yourself to others isn't a bad thing. I want to gently push their backs so that they can turn that pain into their next strength."
A cold wind passed between us, stealing the warmth from our fingertips.

"Pushing their backs… huh. Then, do you just walk past the kids who can't stand up?"

The teacher lowered his gaze to his feet.

"…I wouldn't walk past them. I believe that just sitting and waiting beside a child who cannot stand up is also a way of pushing their back. I wait together with them, without rushing, for the moment their heart moves."

"Teacher? Is it a bad thing not to be able to stand up? Does the heart have to move?"

The teacher thought for a moment and let out a gentle sigh.

"There is nothing wrong with that. When your heart doesn't move, it's fine to just stay as you are. Trying to force it to move can sometimes end up hurting you. A heart that rests is also an important strength."

I frowned at that answer. The chipped asphalt crunched under my shoes.

"Teacher, aren't you still assuming that they will start walking again? Since you're an educator… don't you want them to walk again somewhere in your heart?"

The teacher smiled gently at my words.

"That might be true. Somewhere in me, there is a wish that they will be able to walk again. But that isn't the 'correct form'; I just want to see the 'form in which that person can feel comfortable.'"

"Even if that 'comfortable form' is a form that doesn't blend into society, can you affirm it, teacher?"

Why am I asking something that sounds like a villain's sentiment? I'm an honor student, if anything.

In the vacant lot, silver grass grew like waves. Goldenrod grew in the gaps, as if competing with it.

The teacher was choosing his words.

"Yes… I would affirm it. Even if it doesn't fit the shape of society, if that person can be at peace, that is a wonderful way of life. There is no need to force yourself to blend in."

No. That's not the answer I want to hear.

"Teacher, are you trying to create a 'society that accepts people who can't blend in'? Or are you someone who aims for a 'society where no one has to blend in'?"

The teacher also glanced at the silver grass.
"I want to create a 'society that accepts people who can't blend in.' A society where no one has to blend in is kind, but it's easy to become lonely. That's why I think an ideal society is one where people who can't blend in are warmly embraced just as they are."

"Then teacher, even if I never blend in, can you speak of that as the 'future of society'?"

At the gaze I threw at him, the teacher gasped for a moment, then let out a quiet breath as if to steady himself.

"…I think I can. The way you exist without blending in is a 'future that questions the shape of society.' Because there are existences that do not blend in, the world can become wider."

I frowned even more at the teacher's words. That is, after all, a kindness decided by someone who is within the 'correct framework of society.'


"Teacher, I don't want to be a symbol. I am asking if it shouldn't be a society where just being there is not 'permitted,' but 'naturally integrated.'"

The goldenrod swayed among the silver grass.

The teacher lowered his gaze as if to think about my words, then said quietly.
"I see. A world that doesn't even need the premise of 'permitting,' is it? If existence isn't treated as special, and just being there becomes natural—that might be true coexistence."

"Yes, that's what I think. The moment there is a premise, there is a hint of a correct answer somewhere. I think that by excluding things from that frame, we are unconsciously dividing them, wondering if they are truly 'incorrect.'"

I pulled out a stalk of silver grass.

Thinking of the sunset that had already set, I held it up against the streetlight.
The teacher was watching me quietly.

"…Certainly, the idea of a 'correct answer' might be like a map made by someone. Just because you are outside that line doesn't mean you are lost… Rather, I think there is an important landscape on the outside as well."
The teacher gently stroked the tip of the silver grass.

"…Teacher, you should tell everyone things like that more often. I'm an honor student, so I'm on the side that can get points, but I think there are many kids who are carrying that kind of pain."

I stared into the teacher's eyes. I felt his pupils tremble with sadness.
"…Thank you. If you feel that way, I'm sure other children feel the same. I will be careful to shine more light on that part as well."

Saying that, the teacher looked down a little.

The silver grass I held up and illuminated by the streetlight.
The goldenrod that grew there and was hated, even though it hadn't asked to be there.

In this world, there are those who are rejected by the very system itself.

"I do think you're the mirror of an educator, teacher. You're kind, bright, and you lead everyone—that's the feeling I get. But you know, I think there are kids who feel their own shadows grow long in that brightness."

"…I see. So my light can sometimes make someone's shadow grow long. Thank you for making me realize that. I want to be a teacher who can properly call out to the shadows beside someone who has squinted at the brightness."
The teacher's answer was so aware of himself being the light that I couldn't help but let out a laugh that resembled resignation.
"That attitude is already blinding. But well… if that's the teacher's good quality, I guess it can't be helped…"

At my tone, the teacher smiled bitterly, looking a little embarrassed.
"It's a little embarrassing to be told I'm blinding. But if you say so, I want to use that light properly for someone's sake."
For someone's sake, huh.
The teacher really is, through and through, on the side that tries to lead.

I just stared at the sea of weeds where silver grass and goldenrod mixed, and the outline of the teacher's handsome profile illuminated by the streetlight.

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#RainbowCreationClub
#SilverGrass