Super Cub Volume 1 Chapter 6 - Helmet Bag

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Koguma, who commuted to school on a motorbike for the first time, entered her classroom at her usual time.

She didn’t particularly have any friends to say hello to. When her classmates saw her sitting in her seat in the middle of the room that was slightly towards the back, they immediately turned their gazes back to their friend’s face or their phone screens. 

A morning that was no different from any other. While thinking that the only thing that had changed might be her means of going to school, Koguma hung her day pack over the side of her classroom desk.

There was another thing that changed. She had gone from her black leather school bag to a day pack. It wasn’t from a particularly eye-catching brand or anything. It was a plain day pack of unbleached cotton that looked like something a wandering genius artist would carry on their back. No one noticed. 

If I stand up right now and said, “I came to school on a motorbike today!”, what will happen? She wondered, but then thought that riding a scooter to school was probably just another way to get to school, just riding the bus, a bike, or in the family car, and nothing that would be of particular interest. Besides, Koguma wasn’t good at attracting attention.

The class bell rang and morning homeroom began. And then it was the usual classes. She was able to keep up with just the preparation of looking over her textbooks. This high school’s standard scores and rate of advancement to university were in no way low, even in Yamanashi prefecture, but it seemed that Koguma was good at getting average marks even if she made an effort or slacked off. Mediocre marks, a student who didn’t stand out, and an existence that was like the small trucks, or a Super Cub, that could be found anywhere in the countryside.

While thinking about meaningless things as she took classes, the lunch break came. The students around her took out their lunch boxes or bread, or they ran to the school store. Koguma took out her lunch box from her day pack. 

She cut open the seal of the ready-made oyakodon she bought in bulk at the supermarket and spread it on the rice crammed into the large plastic container. A modest living that relied on her scholarship money. She thought that this was the best way to balance money and effort, so she always had rice and ready-made food for lunch. 

She saw the microwave oven placed at the back of the classroom for heating up box lunches, but there was already a line, so she decided to eat it as it is. Luckily, the oyakodon didn’t taste as awful as ready-made curry. 

She never ate lunch with anyone. She saw a few other kids eating alone in the classroom. Koguma wasn’t so lacking in sociability as to eat her lunch while hiding it, but she did sigh a little at the monotony of her meal.

The purchase of the Super Cub yesterday, running out of gas last night, and the scooter ride to school this morning--this series of incidents that Koguma knew nothing of for a long time might have changed her feelings a little bit about the routine she had been repeating until now.

After lunch, she spent her lunch break reviewing her lessons, which had no meaning other than to kill time, and then it was fifth period. Today, they were going to practice sewing in home economics. Koguma could only sew a rag, but she thought that it would be fun to use the sewing machine, which she didn’t have in her current apartment.

Class began. Today’s home ec class was to make a drawstring bag. It was like a review of what they did in home ec in the upper years of elementary school. Home ec in high school was something both students and teachers had no motivation for. About half of the students secretly worked on coursework from other classes or played with their phones.

The home ec teacher pointed to the pile of cloth on their desk and told them to take any cloth they liked and make a drawstring bag as described in the textbook. They seemed to have decided to leave things as they were until the students came up to them with the finished product, and started on the knitting on their lap. 

Everyone in the class took a piece of cloth one by one. There were those who chose fabrics with cute patterns, while others picked smaller pieces of cloth in order to minimize the amount of work as much as possible. Koguma’s turn came.

After considering it for a bit, Koguma picked up a particularly large piece of cloth from the pile. It was a stiff and thick cotton fabric that was more for making a truck top rather than handmade accessories, and it was a plain olive green. The girls behind her laughed and tapped her on the shoulder.

“I guess when you’re poor, you try to pick the biggest one you can get?”

“It must be tough having no parents. Is that preparation for skipping town at night?” 

Koguma didn’t have any friends to chat with during breaks or hang out with after school, but she thought this class wasn’t uncomfortable. It was a rural high school where rumors spread quickly. Everyone knew her circumstances, but no one was going to handle her with kid gloves now.

However, she didn’t like being talked to condescendingly. It was strange for her to think so. Because Koguma at least had a clear purpose for making a big drawstring bag out of this cloth.

Koguma spoke as she pulled on the thick cloth that was like something used in the military to check its strength.

“I thought I’d put my helmet and gloves in it. For a motorcycle.”

The girls around Koguma exclaimed in surprise.

“You can ride a motorcycle?” “When did you get a license?” “You didn’t steal it, did you?” “What are you riding?” “Can you show me later?” She was attacked with questions.

Koguma replied as she headed for her seat.

“It’s a Super Cub. A used one.”

Her classmates’ expressions changed. A look of temporarily heightened interest.

“Whaaat, a Cub?” “It’s more like a scooter than a motorcycle.” “No need to show it to me then. My grandpa rides one too.”

Koguma placed the cloth on the sewing machine, pressed down on the foot pedal, and began to sew. It won’t take long to make a drawstring bag, and then I’ll have my helmet bag. And it’s free. With this, I won’t have to wrestle with that hard-to-use helmet lock every morning.

It was reassuring to Koguma that her classmates had lost interest in her when they heard she rode a Cub. She had said it because she wanted to show off a little, but as she thought, she wasn’t suited to standing out.

Koguma was back to being the same nameless girl she always had been. There was a female student watching her from a corner of the class as she tried to sew a drawstring bag.

The girl stood up and started walking towards Koguma’s seat.

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