Pocket Money

The classroom was quiet except for the scratching of pencils and the faint hum of the ceiling fan. Hiro sat halfway down the row, tapping the end of his pen against his notebook, more interested in the shapes he was doodling than the math problems in front of him.

A few seats ahead, a commotion broke the stillness. Takeshi, famous for making troubles for others, was leaning over another boy’s desk, his tone low but sharp. The smaller boy — thick glasses, hunched shoulders — was gripping his notebook like his life depended on it

“Hand it over your assignment you shrimp” Takeshi muttered, smirking.

No one said anything. This sort of thing happened often enough. Most students kept their eyes on their work, pretending not to notice. Hiro glanced toward the back row.

There, sprawled across his desk with his arms folded like a makeshift pillow, was Kaito — the rugby club’s star forward. His eyes opened slowly, brow furrowed, as if waking from a deep nap.

“Oi…” Kaito’s voice was low and lazy. “Shut it, will you? You’re too loud.”

Takeshi stiffened. For a moment, it looked like he might talk back. Instead, he clicked his tongue, grabbed his bag, and returned to his seat. The boy with glasses exhaled, relief evident in his shoulders.

Hiro turned back to his notebook, feeling a mix of admiration and frustration. If only he could tell someone to stop like that.

By lunch break, the scene had already made its way into Hiro’s conversation with his friends. They sat in their usual spot under a tree by the edge of the schoolyard, bento boxes open.

“You should’ve seen it,” Hiro said, picking at his rice. “Takeshi was hassling Kenji again, but Kaito just told him to shut up, and he listened. Just like that. I wish I could be like Kaito”

Daichi, sitting cross-legged, snorted. “Yeah, well, you’re five-six. He’s five-eleven. Not exactly an even match.”

Ren shook his head. “Size isn’t everything. You need guts to step in like that. And let’s be honest…” He gave Hiro a sideways glance. “We’re not exactly the gutsy type.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Hiro muttered.

The three of them laughed, the tension from the earlier topic quickly fading into their usual lunchtime chatter.

After classes ended, Hiro walked home, phone buzzing in his pocket. It was a string of messages from his twelve-year-old cousin.

Cousin Xave: “Dude!! VR set is on sale!!”

Cousin Xave: “And there’s a new game launching tomorrow!!”

Cousin Xave: “You HAVE to get it. Don’t be lame like last time.”

Hiro smirked as more voice messages came in, his cousin’s excited voice practically shouting through the speaker. This wasn’t the first time he’d been nagged about VR games, but the offer sounded… tempting.

When he stepped inside his house, the smell of simmering miso soup greeted him. His mom poked her head out from the kitchen.

“Oh, Hiro, here’s your pocket money for the month.” She placed the bills in his hand. “Don’t spend it all at once. And remember, we’re having dinner with your father at the hotel tonight.”

“Yeah, I know,” Hiro replied, heading toward his room.

His mom called after him about changing his clothes before dinner, but he was already thinking about the messages on his phone and whether that VR set might actually be worth it this time.

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