Twilight Anpanman

It might sound strange coming from me, but I was a very｜cunning｜middle school student. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say I was disagreeable.
I wasn't a typical delinquent, and my attitude in class wasn't bad, but I was the kind of student who looked down on teachers and viewed things from a cynical perspective.

That's why, when it came to writing a book report for summer vacation homework, I wasn't satisfied with the assigned books and chose the picture book "Anpanman" as a curveball.

In the very early picture book, written in hiragana as "anpanman," neither Baikinman, Dokin-chan, nor Shokupanman appear.

"Anpanman" flies to people dying in the desert or children lost in the forest and lets them eat his face.
Anpanman, having lost his face entirely, crashes in a thunderstorm, but is revived after "Uncle Bread-Maker" makes him a new one—.

That was the story.

The child in the picture book, left all alone in the forest.
I couldn't think of that as someone else's problem, and Anpanman, who would fly in and offer his own face to eat, seemed like the ultimate hero to me.

Once, when I entered elementary school, my mother gave me a key.
However, being young, I would often forget to take the key with me, and each time, I would be left stunned upon returning home.

On such days, I had no choice but to sit on the stone steps in front of the entrance and wait for someone to come home and unlock the door.

Eventually, the sweet smell of dinner being prepared would drift from various houses in the neighborhood. I was always hungry.

Before long, I would start to feel like no one was ever coming back.
I would never be able to enter the house again, and I wouldn't be able to eat or sleep... Wrapped in such anxiety, my chest would always ache.

The author, Takashi Yanase, says this in the afterword of the picture book.

As a middle school student, I was very angry at the despicable adults. Everything in society was double-tongued and full of contradictions, and honest people always looked like fools.
Because I was precocious at the time, I was fed up with an unfair and unequal world.

To my heart, which was in the midst of puberty, the words "true justice" pierced very, very deeply.

After a long time, I reunited with that nostalgic hero along with my children.

Without me noticing, the spelling had changed to "Anpanman," and with a friendly, round face, surrounded by many friends, he was brilliantly unleashing his An-Punch.

The theme song that appeared with the anime adaptation had incredible lyrics that didn't seem meant for toddlers.

Hot! Too hot!

As I grew older, I became an adult who could get by in the world by glossing over things, saying, "...Well, some things just can't be helped."

And by saying with a knowing look that "true justice" doesn't exist anywhere, I also learned how to protect my weak self.

People are killing each other in the world all the time, and many children are starving to the point of being in mortal danger.
Even if a hero who upholds justice with a spirit of self-sacrifice and devotion were to appear, the outcome would likely be that they would be consumed and erased within the great tides of the era—.

That is what I had been thinking.

Although the times have changed drastically with the progress of digitalization and the rise of AI, the message written 47 years ago still resonates in our hearts without fading.

Perhaps because of the act of sharing bread or his selfless devotion, it seems many people see a parallel between Anpanman and Jesus Christ.

The word "love" might still be somewhat unfamiliar to Japanese people, but perhaps it would be easier to understand if we rephrased it as "to cherish" or "to hold dear."

If that is the case, then of course, it exists within me as well.

In the evening, when I begin to prepare a meal, I always think of my children who live far away.

I wonder what they ate today.
I wonder if they ate something delicious.

Even at this very moment, surely in countries and regions all over the world, many people are preparing meals for their families and loved ones.
And surely, they are thinking of someone who lives far away.

When I eat something exceptionally delicious, I remember the smiles from the days we once shared a table.
When I taste seasonal food, the faces of the people I want to feed come to mind.

I see.
"True justice" is not actually that difficult; it was already there in everyone's heart.

Now then, what shall I eat tonight?