Ikari invited Hoku to cuddle up with him in his bed that night. Hoku thought that he’d wake his brother up with his trips to the restroom again, but he need not have worried. Ikari fell asleep less than five minutes after burrowing down into the blankets, and Hoku followed soon after.

It was a peaceful, dreamless sort of sleep, the hours of which seemed to take their time passing by and yet pass too swiftly all at once. Hoku still woke up to stumble through the dark to the bathroom, but only three or four times tonight. And none of the noise disturbed Ikari, who slept like a rock.

As with yesterday morning, Kosui-san came in early to take the drowsy boys’ temperatures and vitals, and an hour later, it was time to get up. They had slept for close to ten hours by this time, and the sleep had been pleasant, but somehow it hadn’t been enough, for they were still tired. Hoku’s head felt a little heavy. He didn’t eat anything at breakfast, and he declined to speak in group therapy.

Tazuki-san talked alot about overcoming addictions, stating that only by striving to overcome them could the children recover from their pain. To defeat an addiction, he declared, one must embrace honesty, self-control and the power of friendship, but, above all those other things, must place one’s trust in a higher power. Hoku wasn’t certain what destructive addictions had to do with having depression, bipolar disorder or triggers. After an hour of Tazuki-san’s going on in this manner, however, Hoku realized that what he was hinting at was self-harm.

He didn’t engage in self-harm, and he didn’t want to hear anything more about a higher power. But Ikari had come here because of him and was trying to believe that they could get better. So he listened when Tazuki-san spoke and did his seatwork. It wasn’t as though he had much of a choice, anyway. There was nothing else for him to do but listen when he was in this ugly-smelling room, surrounded by people who were all talking about their feelings, and Tengoku had said that patients who didn’t do as they were told with regard to therapy and classwork had to stay longer in the ward.

Art therapy was a different story. Rinko-san, who had asked the children to fill out checklists about their feelings and triggers yesterday morning, returned after morning group therapy to pile them into the cafeteria. With her she’d brought a radio. As a singer belted out a Japanese dub of “Daisies” by Katy Perry, Rinko-san distributed paper cutouts that were shaped like the petals, stems and leaves of daisies.

“They told me I was out there, tried to knock me down. Took those sticks and stones, showed them I could build a house!” the singer shouted. “They tell me that I'm crazy, but I'll never let them change me, 'Til they cover me in daisies, daisies, daisies!”

Ajisai danced in her seat. “That’s one of my favorite songs!”

”Mine, too.” Rinko-san set a bottle of glue and a large bin of crayons and markers on the table. “You can all color your petals in, then glue them, the stems and the leaves together to make daisies.”

As the others crayoned and pasted away, Hoku sat and stared at his materials. He wanted to cooperate by crafting daisies, but he couldn’t.

“Hoku-kun?” Rinko-san, making her way around the table, halted to address him after some time. “Is everything okay? Don’t you want to color your flower?”

“No, ma’am.“ Hoku studied his hands.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like the song.”

“Well. . .all right. I’m sorry you didn’t like the song. You don’t have to make a daisy if you’d rather not. You can take some of the colored paper and draw whatever you like.”

Figuring that he might as well appear to participate in some way, Hoku helped himself to a sheet of pink paper, on which he drew a sloppy rose and another flower of some kind. He peered over at Ikari, who had given each point of his daisy a different color - one was pink, one was indigo-blue, one was lavender, one was golden, and so on - and was now using a chocolate-brown pencil to fill in the velvety center of the bloom.

After Rinko-san announced an end to the art session, Hoku and the others all helped to clear and wipe the cafeteria table off. They took an outdoors break, and then they retired to the main area. Nijiko-san announced that it was lunchtime. This time, Hoku didn’t bother to leave his spot on the armchair. He had put in more than enough time in that cafeteria, and he never ate anything, anyway.

“Hoku-kun?” Nijiko-san came to stand at the arm of the chair and peered down at him. “Are you going to have lunch, sweetheart?”

Hoku whispered, “No, ma’am.”

Nijiko-san and the others left him alone. Hoku curled up into the inner arm of the couch and closed his eyes.

“Hoku.” It was Ikari, who took him by the shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “Come on, Hoku, get up. Let’s go eat.”

“Not hungry. You eat, Oniichan.”

Ikari shook him a few more times, but he didn’t budge. Seeming to see that there was no use in insisting, Ikari left, at last. In the silence, until he was called for afternoon group therapy, Hoku slept.

xxxxxxxxxx

Afternoon therapy, like that morning’s therapy, was all about discussing one’s feelings and overcoming addiction. When it was over, Hoku headed back to his spot on the armchair, though not before visiting the restroom. Though the door to the bathroom and quiet room area locked automatically upon closing and Junko-san held the keys to the bathroom, someone had stuck a whiteboard eraser on the floor between the door and the doorjamb to keep it open and unlocked for all of those who came after him or her. Hoku assumed it had been an act of courtesy on the part of the staff, for the eraser had been there for a few hours and noone had moved it. Hoku was grateful and was careful to put the eraser back into place when he exited the bathroom.

Hoku huddled into himself once again and remained like that until he managed to doze off. Some time later, Ikari was shaking him again.

”Hoku, Grandma wants to talk to you. She’s on the phone.”

A groggy, confused Hoku dragged himself to his feet. He allowed Ikari to direct him to the telephone set across from the cubicle.

“Hello? . . . Grandma?”

“Hoku, I’m glad to hear from you.” Grandma didn’t sound as though she were thrilled about anything.

“Hi, Grandma.”

“Your uncle Luqman told me what happened. I was taken by surprise. I know you’re in alot of pain, and it’s been lonely with us all having to keep our distance from eachother. But you could have called me, darling. I’m your grandma. Why did you have to call the police?”

Hoku didn’t know what to say in response to that.

“Do you want me to come and get you? You can stay at my house. I’ll invite your cousins over; we’ll just have to be careful about wearing masks and keeping things clean.”

“Grandma, we can’t do that!”

”What on earth do you mean?”

”I can’t leave the hospital whenever I want to. I have to get better first so they’ll let me leave.”

Besides, Hoku added to himself, I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go to Grandma’s house. She’ll talk about God all of the time, and everyone will want to hang out with me or play, but I won’t be any fun. And she’ll want me to stay for days, maybe even for weeks or the whole summer. I do love Grandma, but she can’t help me. Maybe no one can. And if Grandma can’t help me, she’ll be upset. I’m not strong enough to pretend to be happy even for one whole day.

Grandma did nothing to keep her concern and unhappiness out of her voice. “But those mental hospitals are no good for you. Your second cousin Jiro dealt with mental illness, and he was institutionalized - you know that, don’t you? They do bad things to people in those hospitals, things that aren’t godly.”

Not godly? But how? Will God get mad at me for trying to get help from the hospital instead of just at church? Hoku’s thoughts raced. This was too much for him.

“Grandma, stop - please. They don’t do bad things to people at the hospital! I like it here. They’re making me better.”

“You don’t sound happy to me. I just don’t feel that a child should be the one making decisions like this. Are you at least remembering to say your prayers every night before bedtime?”

”Yes, ma’am.” The phone receiver quivered in Hoku’s hand.

There was a pause, and then Grandma sounded as weary as he did. “Well, then, I guess I’ll let you go. Hand me back to your Oniichan.”

After Grandma’s, Hoku and Ikari got two other phone calls that day, one from Uncle Luqman, the other from their Aunt Sakura, both of whom wanted to check up on them. Hoku found out that the idea of him and Ikari being medicated and in a mental hospital wasn’t the only thing that was worrying Uncle Luqman. He was also worried about the coronavirus.

I guess it makes sense he’s worried, he thought as he returned the phone receiver to the set. There are lots of people living together in here; we COULD catch COVID. I should be worried about getting it here. It took Mom and Dad away. I AM scared of the virus, but somehow I just don’t have the energy to be scared of getting it from being here. I don’t want Uncle Luqman to worry, either. Ajisai’s probably right. We’re not weak old people, and we aren’t around any old, sick people, either. I hardly ever catch ANYTHING. If the others’ve been here for days and are ok, we’ll all be ok.

After that, for Hoku, there was nothing but hours of waiting for bedtime to be announced and medicine to be dispensed.

Late afternoon became evening, and evening became night. Hoku skipped dinner again, but when Momonoki-san set a bin of packaged cookies and crackers on the cubicle counter, even he went for a chocolate-covered rice cake. Mizumi, Daichi and Tengoku, with Momonoki-san’s permission, gathered in the art room and raided the drawing and crafting supplies that were stored there. Ikari had stretched out on the couch and was asleep now, and Hoku laid his head on his shoulder and tried to return to sleep himself. But Kosui-san came over and clapped her hands, startling Ikari into wakefulness.

“Everyone, please sit on the couch and the armchairs; don’t lie down. We need to make sure we aren’t taking up space that other people could be using to sit.”

Hoku didn’t think that he’d be able to fall asleep while sitting upright, so he gave up on sleeping for the moment. He took Ikari’s hand, and they, along with Ajisai and Teishuki, joined the others in the art room.

“Here.” Sitting beside Hoku at the table, Ikari turned a sheet of white paper sideways. “This way we can both draw on it. Let’s draw our house. I’ll do the right side, and you start working from the left, Hoku.”

Hoku took up a pencil, though he admitted, “I can’t draw the way you can, Oniichan. The house will look stupid.”

“Don’t be so negative. You’re good at drawing. You just haven’t practiced as long as I have. Let’s start with the bottom of the house.”

Encouraged by his brother, Hoku drew a few strokes. The others chatted quietly among themselves, and Ikari joined in with an answer once in a while. Everything was going as well for Hoku as could be expected.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Then Teishuki began to sing. One or two lines into the song, Mizumi joined her, and then Daichi and Ajisai followed.

“Please, please, let me See the land of glory.

Make me worthy

For that’s the place for me!”

Hoku knew this song by heart. He imagined everyone did. It was from an animated film that he and Ikari had loved since they were tiny, a movie chronicling the adventures of a little boy, his lost puppy, and their quest to reunite with one another in the middle of the frozen land of Alaska. The movie, in its beginning credits, boasted, "Based on a true story!" and, as the ending credits rolled, a chorus of children sang "That's the Place for Me."

But the story the movie told was nothing like the true story behind the film. In real life, the little boy and the loyal dog for whom he’d searched had died of hypothermia. The little boy had been found with his arms around his beloved friend’s neck, stiff and frozen in their embrace.

“That’s the Place for Me” had become so popular that the film studio had recorded a pop version of the song. This slow, soulful version was the one that everyone was singing. Almost every kid knew the real story behind the film, but if Mizumi and the others were aware of it, it didn’t seem to make them at all uncomfortable. And, because they enjoyed singing it together so much, they sang it again and again.

“. . .Sometimes I lie down and gaze up at the blue sky

And I can feel You when the birds and clouds go by.

My heart is happy for I know You're everywhere.

How could I ever despair?

"What color are Your eyes? Are they a happy blue?

For when I see the sky, I feel I'm seeing You.

I dream that I can fly and spirits sing with me.

It's my favorite fantasy!

"Please be our Guide

We want to play at Your side

For eternity

That's the place for me!"

After about seven rounds, the singing ended, much to Hoku’s gratitude. Everyone busied himself with his art for a minute or two. Hoku and Ikari laughed at their house, which, thanks to Hoku’s absentmindedness, was lopsided, with the foundations of the left half sagging below those of the right half.

Then Mizumi said softly, “Do you guys mind if I recite some of my favorite poetry? It helps me feel good - but only if it won’t bother you.”

Hoku had no desire to hear any other songs or poetry, but, like the others, he responded with, “Sure, Mizumi-chan.”

“Thanks.” Mizumi took a breath and began.

“Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.”

Her fingers interlocked, and she pressed her palms together until her knuckles turned white.

“Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

“Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way.

“Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Mizumi murmured the poem again and again, almost as though it were a mantra, and, after a few times, fell silent, staring at the table.

Every song that anyone wanted to sing or listen to, every poem that anyone wanted to recite had, in some way or another, to do with death. It seemed that for Hoku, there was no escaping from reminders of his pain. But when 9:00 finally arrived, he had his sleeping pills, his first dose of antidepressant, his bed and his oniichan to curl up with, and, though those didn’t lessen his sadness, they were all better than nothing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Hoku-kun, it’s okay if you don’t want to speak in every session. But if you never open up, you won’t get anything out of your time here.”

This was from the therapist who was visiting today and conducting this morning’s group therapy session, a young lady named Shiori.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hoku said nothing more than that. He rested his chin on his drawn-up knees and stared off into space.

He had resolved never to speak up about his own pain in group therapy. He had spoken to Uncle Luqman, and that hadn’t helped. He had spoken to Ikari, and that hadn’t solved his problems. He had confided in Ajisai, and he’d come away from their conversation feeling worse than before. When his friends opened up about their problems in therapy, he sometimes tried to offer comfort and support. But hearing about the burdens they carried made him feel even sadder. As for him - all that he could do was complain about being afraid of God and fixated on the idea of death. If noone could help him, then he’d only be spreading his fear and sadness to others, ruining their ability to get anything from their sessions.

As well as a new face at the front of the therapy classroom, there were two new faces in the patient group. One belonged to a slender, dark-haired, quiet girl named Hoshiko, who appeared to be around ten years old. Hoku, while fetching items from his basket in the hall closet, had overheard the other children discussing her.

“She came in just last night,” Mizumi had said of her, “when we were already in bed. They say she has really bad insomnia.“

”That’s how I found out she was here!” Teishuki had pitched in. “Mizumi-chan and I were in bed and sleeping when the sound of the door opening woke me up. I was confused because it felt way too early for it to be Kosui-san. It was Hoshiko-chan - sleepwalking! I can’t tell you how freaked out I was when some random kid just slowly walked into our room, came to stand in front of my bed, stared down at me for a long time and then tried to climb in.”

Hoku hadn’t seen Hoshiko until she’d been brought in for the therapy session, so he supposed she had been allowed to sleep through breakfasttime. She was pale of complexion, and there were deep, dark shadows beneath her eyelids. Like Hoku, she declined to speak during the therapy session. But he thought that she seemed nice - her voice was very soft, and she had a pleasant face, with lips and eyes that always appeared to be smiling.

The other newcomer was a 12-year-old boy named Suta. He was brown-haired and wiry, and his eyes were red-rimmed with crying. He continued to wipe tears away as he explained that he’d insisted on being admitted into care for his depression.

“My mom and dad got a divorce two years ago.” His voice was broken. “I have two little sisters and one little brother, and ever since the divorce, I’ve had to take care of everything. I have to go to school, make sure my sisters and brother go to school, watch them when we get home while my mom works, clean the kitchen, the bathrooms, the living room, the dining room and everybody’s rooms, fix all of our food, help my sisters and brother with their homework, be there for them when they’re stressed out or upset, be there for my mom, talk to my dad about child support, and try not to ever do anything wrong. I have to be the go-between. Every time my mom and dad talk, they fight, and every time they fight, I end up in the middle.

"My grandpa on my dad’s side came from out of town to see us. My mom went into the back of the house so she wouldn’t have to talk to him. He looked at our report cards and said we did a great job, then gave us all money. My mom had been listening in from her bedroom door, and when he left, she came out and screamed and yelled because he didn’t offer to give her money to help with the bills. She went on about how we never do anything to help, how we don’t love her, how she hates her life. Then she went off crying and locked herself up in her room for the whole weekend. I had to try to comfort my little sisters and brother, but there was nobody to be there for me. It was the same way it always is. When she finally came out, she told me we needed to go live with our dad. I just feel too worthless to live with anybody. I used to be happy, have lots of friends and hobbies I was good at and get all As and Bs. Now I’m just some underachieving loser not even my mom likes. I can’t take it anymore. Maybe I am useless and no-good. But that’s only because I’ve given up pieces of me until every little bit of myself is gone!”

Hoku felt a pang of sympathy for Suta. Ikari, too, placed a gentle hand on the back of Suta’s chair - offering him comfort without taking the liberty of touching him.

Suta became somewhat calmer after unburdening himself, but throughout the therapy session, he remained distressed. When Shiori-san discussed strategies for coping with depression and stress, he always followed up with new questions.

”But what can I do when I basically have the whole world put on my shoulders?” he insisted, or, “But what can I do when I have to be there for everyone else, but I don’t have anyone who wants to be there for me?”

Hoku knew what it was like to be unable to gain everything - or even anything - that he needed from a group therapy session; in fact, this had been his experience every morning and afternoon so far. The only difference between himself and Suta was that Suta actually went to the trouble of asking for help. His many follow-up questions, however, put a crease in Shiori-san’s forehead. Furthermore, he wasn’t the only patient who seemed to be giving her difficulty. Ajisai had another tearful breakdown that morning.

“They don’t love me,” she declared, referring to her foster parents. “They don’t understand me. They think I’m a bad kid because sometimes I get really excited and do things I shouldn’t do. But I don’t mean to. If they loved me, they wouldn’t have called the police and had me locked away!”

“Ajisai-chan,” Shiori-san responded, “your mental illness may influence your actions, but they’re still your actions - not your foster parents’ or anyone else’s. Your actions have consequences. That isn’t something you can blame your foster parents for.”

Shiori-san and Ajisai didn’t see eye-to-eye, so they went back and forth in this manner for a little while. At length, however, Ajisai seemed to give in and became quiet.

As she concluded the morning session, Shiori-san announced, “I know you’ve been having group therapy every day, but you’ll each be seeing me for a one-on-one session before you leave the ward. I start sitting down with you all today. If I don’t get to you today, don’t worry; I’ll get to you on Monday.”

Hoku remembered that today was Friday. This meant that the weekend was near, and the weekend meant two days without having to attend group therapy.

The children filed back into the main area. Suta broke away from the group to visit the restroom. No sooner was he well out of hearing range than Tengoku remarked to Teishuki, “That guy‘s so negative. Nothing anybody says is enough for him. Sitting in there with him and listening to him complain brings me down.”

Overhearing this made Hoku feel more certain about his decision not to talk about his feelings in group therapy.

When the door to the bathroom area swung open and Suta emerged from it, Hoku learned that the staff members weren’t the ones who had been kind enough to place the eraser between the doorjamb and the door. Nijiko-san, who happened to be passing by at that moment, spied the eraser and bent down to confiscate it.

“Everyone, may I have your attention, please? I don’t know who keeps sticking objects in the doorway to keep the door open, but I need this to stop now. We moderate access to the bathroom area for your safety. Don’t try to circumvent the rules. If you have to use the bathroom, all you have to do is go up to the desk and ask.”

Hoku guessed from the face that Ajisai made when Nijiko-san turned away that she was the one who had put the eraser down.

Junko-san and Nijiko-san were in charge and should be respected and obeyed. But Hoku wasn’t accustomed to asking for permission to use the restroom outside of school hours. Though ordinarily he wouldn’t have minded much, he was sorry to see the eraser removed now, for, since yesterday evening, his stomach had been bothering him. There were thin, but sharp stabs of pain, and he couldn’t feel hungry not only because of the depression, but because he felt as though his stomach were full of something already. It was as if he’d swallowed a lump that had settled down in the center of his stomach and refused to be moved.

It’s probably just because I’ve hardly been eating anything, Hoku thought. Not eating any vegetables is making my stomach act up. It wasn’t pleasant, but he ignored the discomfort. The way that he felt physically was the least of his problems now.

The dark, heavy thoughts wouldn’t leave him, and he couldn’t escape by sleeping the day away, so he had decided to shut himself off, more or less, from everyone else, including Ikari. Installing himself on one end of the couch, he rested his head against the back, closed his eyes and told himself that he did not exist. Hoku was no longer a real person. If he himself believed that he didn’t exist and didn’t try to force himself to eat, complain of his pain - emotional or physical - to others or seek to get any of his needs fulfilled the way that people did, perhaps God, too, would believe that he didn’t exist and would remove him from His list of targets.

Daichi was the first to be called out of the main area by Shiori-san for a private session. He announced his return an hour later by dancing and bounding into the room. He threw his arms around Ikari, then gave Teishuki a high-five.

“I talked to Dr. Ali, and he says I get to go home tomorrow!“

“You’re . . .leaving?” Hoku had met Daichi only three days ago. Even if he was shutting himself off out of fear, having his ward friends around made him feel a little safer and less alone. Now already he was about to part ways with one.

“Yeah!” Daichi grabbed a couch cushion and tossed it several feet into the air, then caught it, eliciting whooping and laughter from Tengoku and Ajisai. Hoku had never seen the gentle older boy in such a lively mood. “They say I’m going to start outpatient treatment now!”

“Outpatient? . . . That means you come from home everyday to get therapy instead of staying here, right?”

“Yes, and I only have to come for four hours every day.”

The congratulations flew in from all sides.

“That’s great, Daichi-kun!”

“Keep your fingers crossed it’s my turn next!”

“I’m happy for you. I’ll miss you!”

Daichi was leaving the ward, which meant that he was getting better. He was happy to be going, and Hoku knew that they all ought to be happy for his sake. Ikari was smiling, so he managed a smile, too.

“That’s really cool, Daichi-kun.” He did his best to sound sincere, but there was nothing in his voice except his tired sadness.

“Hoku-kun, Ikari-kun!” Junko-san came to the front of the cubicle. In her hands was a paper-bag parcel. “We got a delivery from your uncle Luqman. He says it’s for both of you and that Ikari-kun is to look after it.”

Ikari allowed Hoku to go up for the package and open it. Inside of the bag was a black-leather-covered Bible. A slip of paper had been stuck bookmark-style into the middle of the book. Ikari drew the paper out and unfolded it.

“It says, ‘Read to your brother!’"

The slip of paper was returned to its place. Without another word, Ikari handed the Bible to Hoku, then turned away.

Hoku requested that Nijiko-san unlock the door to their room so he could put the Bible away. Once inside, he stuck it on the bottom shelf, under the bag that held their clothes. All throughout the morning, though, as he sat on the couch, staring at the backs of his eyelids, in his mind, he heard that song being carried by the voices of very little children - a chorus of preschoolers and kindergarteners who were sick, perhaps, or starving, dying, even, but were clinging with all of their might to innocent hope.

“Please be our Guide. / We want to play at Your side / For eternity. / That’s the place for me!”