The Corner of the Evaluation Sheet Was Pinned Down by the Wind

When the evaluation report arrived at East Row 2, No. 7, the wind had pinned down one corner of the paper.

Nao set the paper on the low table and weighed it down with a cup of water. Kiyo immediately leaned over to look. When he saw the words "Literacy Needs Improvement," his face looked as though he had been betrayed by a rice ball.

"Why is it there again?" Kiyo asked.

Che sat beside him without answering right away. Saori hugged her stuffed doll, its bell wrapped in cloth so that it only gave a very faint jingle. There were other notes on the paper as well: chakra stability, formation coordination, basic observation, classroom etiquette. Each was followed by only a few brief words—so brief they were like little knives. They did not cut deeply, but they made it clear where they had touched.

Kiyo pointed at his own line. "Can this be understood as meaning I have huge potential?"

Che nearly blurted out a sarcastic remark. But as the words reached his lips, he saw that Kiyo's fingers were still pressing against the edge of the paper, wrinkling the corner slightly. He was not asking for a laugh. Kiyo genuinely wanted to find a path forward in those four words.

"You can understand it as having lots of characters left to defeat," Che said.

Kiyo's eyes lit up. "Characters are the enemy, and I'm a ninja."

"There are a lot of enemies."

"A ninja's life is hard."

Nao heard them from the outer room and could not help laughing, though she quickly swallowed it back. She brought in hot water, looked at the paper first, then at the children.

"An evaluation isn't a verdict," she said. "After you read it, you still eat when it's time to eat and practice writing when it's time to practice."

Kiyo immediately asked, "Then can I eat before practicing writing?"

Nao set down the bowls. "You can."

The paper lay on the table all morning. Wind slipped in through the crack in the door and tried several times to lift its corner, but the water cup pressed it back down every time. Che went to get a pen midway through. When he returned, he found Saori standing by the table, shifting the cup half an inch closer to the paper's corner.

"It'll run away," Saori said.

"The paper?"

"The words on it."

Che followed her gaze. The words on the paper would not run, of course, but people could. When they were described too briefly, judged too quickly, placed into some box by a single sentence, they wanted to flee—or tear those few words apart at once.

That afternoon, Mine came over to explain supplementary exercises. She did not pin up the papers or read every item aloud. She only had each person choose one small thing they could do today.

Kiyo chose to write the two characters for "stop."

When he wrote them the first time, the two characters looked as if they were shoving each other. The second try was a little better. The third was still crooked. Che stood beside him with a pen in hand, nearly pointing out every flaw. The horizontal strokes were uneven, the vertical strokes unsteady, and the bottom of the character for "stop" was too cramped. But he stopped himself.

Kiyo was not here to be inspected. He only wanted to know whether he had moved forward.

Che tapped the clearest-looking "stop."

Kiyo lowered his head to look at the small mark. "Is this a reward?"

"Temporary approval."

"How long does it last?"

"Until the next time you write it crooked."

Kiyo gave a humph, but he put the sheet away very carefully. Saori watched from the side, then said after a while, "This time, you only mentioned one thing."

Che put down his pen. "I was afraid he'd say I'm too strict."

Kiyo looked up. "You are too strict."

"Then I already went easier on you."

"It wasn't noticeably easier."

The room laughed. The evaluation sheet was still on the low table, with the cup weighing down its corner. The paper had not disappeared, nor had it become lighter, but it was no longer as cold as when it had first arrived. The children had broken it down into one small thing they could do today: a dot, a character, a cup of water, a sheet of paper the wind had not carried away.

At dusk, as Nao cleared the table, she asked, "Do you still want to keep the paper?"

Kiyo immediately pressed his handwriting practice sheet over the evaluation report. "Keep it. It has to watch me defeat the enemy."

Che watched the two sheets overlap and suddenly felt that this was fine. Beneath the cold record lay a crooked "stop." When they looked again tomorrow, at least they would not see only those four words.

That afternoon, Mine brought several evaluation sheets into the yard.

She did not have the children sit inside to look at them. Indoors, it was too easy to see a sheet of paper as a verdict. Outside, there was wind, water buckets, and the little stone Kiyo had nearly kicked crooked earlier. Put the paper there, and it no longer felt so much like a cold wooden board.

"Each person gets to say only one item," Mine said. "Something you can physically work on today."

Kiyo immediately raised his hand. "Literacy."

"Too broad."

"Then recognizing one character."

"That works."

It was as if Kiyo had snatched back a breath. He immediately lowered his head to look for the enemy he would defeat today. After choosing back and forth, he picked "stop." His reason was simple: it looked like it was standing still, and it had half as many strokes as "pause," so it seemed easier to deal with.

After Morita Yu received his paper, he sat very straight. His note read: "Responds too quickly." Kiyo saw it and nearly burst out laughing, but then remembered how "Literacy Needs Improvement" had just struck him. He forcibly held the laugh in.

"You have one too?" Kiyo asked.

Morita Yu looked at him. "It's not like I'm related to evaluation sheets."

Hearing that, Che could not help lowering his head with a quiet laugh.

Saori's sheet was even shorter. It only said, "Half a step slow when joining formation." She stared at those words for a long time. She was neither sad nor quick to explain herself. Mine walked over and only asked, "Did being half a step slow block anyone?"

Saori shook her head.

"Then just practice letting others know you're there."

Saori hugged her stuffed doll tighter and softly said, "I'm here."

Her voice was very quiet. Kiyo did not hear it, still fighting with the character for "stop." Che heard it, and so did Morita Yu. Neither of them repeated it for her. Mine nodded, as if those three words were already enough for today.

When it was Che's turn, his paper did not say much. The evaluation merely stated, "Observes too closely; needs to leave room in responses." The words looked gentler than Kiyo's, but they pricked more sharply. They did not say he could not do it. They said he did things too early, too thoroughly, and wanted to fill even the empty space beside him.

Mine asked, "Which item will you change today?"

Che glanced at Kiyo. Kiyo was writing "stop" like a little person about to fall over, sweat beading on his forehead in his urgency.

"Point out one fewer mistake," Che said.

Mine looked at him. "Be specific."

"When Kiyo writes today, I'll point out only one thing."

Kiyo jerked his head up. "Why are you using me for practice?"

"Because you're writing."

"I can stop writing."

Nao passed by the doorway and said flatly, "No, you can't."

Kiyo lowered his head again.

Once practice began, Che discovered that saying less was harder than saying more. Every stroke in Kiyo's "stop" had something wrong with it. The top was too short, the bottom too cramped, and the middle looked as if the wind had blown it crooked. Che's tongue felt tied by a thin string, and several times he nearly poured out every comment.

In the end, he only pointed at the third character.

"This one is recognizable."

Kiyo froze. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Did you not look carefully?"

Che pushed the paper back toward him. "I looked carefully."

Kiyo lowered his head to examine the character. The more he looked, the more it seemed that it really was somewhat recognizable. The corner of his mouth slowly lifted, then he hurriedly pressed it down, as if afraid the character would notice he was happy.

Morita Yu practiced his responses nearby. His method was to touch his sleeve once before answering whenever someone asked him something. Kiyo thought it looked like a secret signal and insisted on copying him. The result was that every time he touched his sleeve, he forgot what he had meant to say.

Saori practiced saying "I'm here" beside the water bucket. The first time was too soft, and the wind scattered it away. The second was a little clearer. The third time, Kiyo finally heard her.

"You said something just now?"

Saori nodded.

"Oh." Kiyo scratched his head. "Then I'll wait a bit from now on."

The words were clumsy, but they landed perfectly beside that evaluation sheet. Being half a step slow was not a mistake. If someone was willing to wait a moment, that half-step was no longer just a line on a record.

At dusk, the water cup was lifted from the evaluation paper. A round mark had been pressed into its corner. Nao asked whether they wanted to put it away, but Kiyo placed his "stop" character over it first.

"Let it see," he said.

"See what?"

"See that I won a little today."

Che placed his own paper there too. He did not cover Kiyo's character, only the blank space beside it. That blank space had once made him want to fill it with many words. Now the wind made it flutter softly, but he did not reach out to press it down.

The wind did not blow the papers away.

Maybe this was enough for today.

Kiyo heard that and immediately reached out to hold down the corner of the paper.

Che did not stop him. Kiyo pressed very gently, using only one finger on the edge, as if afraid of hurting the paper. Saori moved the water cup half an inch aside so the round mark would not spread any further. Morita Yu looked at his sleeve, then lowered his hand instead of touching the dried water stain again.

Mine stood at the doorway and watched for a while without commenting on who had done well. She only told them to put away the one small thing each of them had changed today and bring it to the ninja academy's side courtyard tomorrow.

"Why do we have to bring it again?" Kiyo asked.

"Because just because you can recognize it today doesn't mean you'll remember tomorrow."

Kiyo wanted to argue, but he looked down at his barely recognizable "stop" and swallowed the words.

Before dinner, Nao folded the evaluation report and placed it on the top shelf of the low cabinet. Kiyo's handwriting practice sheet did not go in with it. He tucked it into his notebook, very neatly. Afterward, Che saw him pat the notebook, as if he had temporarily shut a tiny enemy inside.

The wind passed behind the window paper, and the table was empty. But the round mark left by the water cup remained, a faint circle directly over the spot where the paper's corner had once curled up.