Irreversible Sadism (GL) - Chapter 11

Seeing the bl00d seeping from my fingertip, I thought, “Oh no.”

Although I felt the cut, the pain arrived late, only after I noticed the wound.

When I put my finger in my mouth, I tasted the distinct flavor of iron. It felt strange to think that this peculiar-tasting red liquid was still coursing through my body.

As I sucked on my finger like a baby, Tateha, who had just finished setting the rice cooker, let out a sigh of exasperation.

“You really have never used a knife, have you?”

“Uh, um… that’s not it. You know how they say to use a cat’s paw? Well, I thought about it and realized that cats don’t always keep their paws curled up, so I just opened mine.”

“Your agile tongue is impressive, but you need to disinfect it and put on a band-aid.”

“Okay…”

Chastened, I pulled out a band-aid from the first aid kit. As I rummaged through it, wondering if there was a waterproof one, I caught a whiff of a scent that mixed bandages and antiseptic, stirring up a sense of nostalgia. How long had it been since I opened the first aid kit at home?

“But I never expected you, Ruri, to want to learn how to cook. There’s a saying about rust coming from within, but it seems that rust isn’t always a bad thing.”

“Well, I can’t help it. I said I could make curry, after all.”

On Saturday afternoon, I had called Tateha over to hold a cooking class for me. Tateha worked part-time at an izakaya and was perfect as a teacher since he cooked at home.

Today, neither my mother nor my father was home. They would probably return in the evening, but when I told my mother I wanted to use the kitchen, she looked at me with the expression of a mother sending off her daughter to be married and said, “You, well…”

Indeed, I had never cooked at home, and during school cooking classes, I once forgot to add water to the rice cooker and ended up turning the rice back into its ancestral form.

The reason I wanted to cook was, as Tateha said, to pick up the rust that had come from within.

“It’s fine to show off to Asami, but you weren’t planning on relying on me from the start, were you?”

“Thank you very much.”

“A samurai doesn’t cut their own fingers. Now, cut the potatoes. They can be a bit thick, so go ahead.”

Tateha was strict. Even after one failure, he wouldn’t let me put down the knife. By the way, I had just failed at cutting a carrot.

“I’m good at peeling.”

“That’s not because you’re good; it’s because that tool is good.”

I felt a sharp smack on my rear. It seemed to mean, “Hurry up.” This must be what it means to work like a draft horse. I held back a whimper as I cut the potato skin while being whipped along.

“You get along well with Asami, don’t you?”

“Uh, do you think so?”

“Because you want to be able to cook for Asami, right?”

“Ah, yeah. Something like that. Tateha said his mother doesn’t come home very often. He manages with takeout and convenience store bento, but homemade meals are really nice. I want to make something for him.”

With a thud, not just the skin but the flesh of the potato fell into cubes. Oh no, I cut too much. However, when I tried to cut it thinly, the blade grazed my fingertip. It was terrifying, so I just cut the whole potato into squares. I felt disheartened by the unfamiliar shape.

I tossed the carrot that had absorbed my bl00d and the square potato into the pot.

Next came the onion. Just slicing it made tears well up.

“You’re so kind.”

“Kind? Well, isn’t it lonely? Being alone at home all the time? Tateha said he distracts himself with the TV and radio.”

“Well, if you can cook, it gives you an excuse to go to his house. If I had to say whether it’s good or bad, I think it’s the former’s calculating nature.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Only if Ruri can actually cook.”

Tateha’s hawk-like eyes glared at my fingertips.

The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board echoed in the kitchen.

I tossed in the finished potatoes, carrots, and the onion that I had accidentally chopped too thinly, turning it into a sort of minced onion.

Once the meat had browned, I added the pre-cooked pork. When I complained about the hassle of measuring the water with the markings, I got another smack on my rear.

After the knife, the sound of my rear echoed in the kitchen.

I covered the pot and set the kitchen timer. By the time it went off, I had gathered up the trash to throw away. Cooking is all about speed and efficiency, Tateha explained.

“Next week is the sports festival.”

“Right. I wonder what high school sports festivals are like.”

“They’re probably not much different from middle school.”

We both stared at the pot simmering away. Noticing that we had our arms crossed, I found it amusing and laughed.

“How about making a bento for Asami on the day of the sports festival?”

“Ah, right. Since there’s no cafeteria, we have to bring our own.”

“Convenience store bento for a sports festival is too plain. If you make something, I’m sure she’d be happy.”

I imagined what Tateha’s reaction would be if I brought a bento. I could picture him smiling, laughing, and happily eating it. But beyond that, I couldn’t imagine. I looked up at the kitchen vent, as if gazing at a flat line graph that never exceeded the average.

“Okay, then! I’ll be able to cook by then!”

I rolled up my sleeves and pumped myself up. However, my role was already reduced to just watching the pot boil. I decided to focus on waiting.

“You really are still such a softie.”

Like the steam rising from the pot, Tateha tossed out words that were vague and shapeless.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, you haven’t changed since middle school.”

I became friends with Tateha in the first year of middle school. We were in the same class and sat next to each other. My first impression of Tateha was that he looked very smart.

From the day of the entrance ceremony, he was always reading books in class, and his bag was always stuffed full of textbooks, giving him a strong image of a brilliant student.

During English class, we had a time for speeches sitting next to each other. I was fairly good at English and thought I spoke quite fluently.

In contrast, Tateha was hopeless. “I am a, uh, pen? Pen… am I a pen?” The way he grimaced at his own English was just too much. I burst out laughing.

Even in high school, Tateha remained the same, already regarded as the quirky one in class. From my perspective, it was Tateha who hadn’t changed since middle school.

“There was a kid in the next class who was being bullied, right?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Do you remember what you did when you saw that kid about to cry because their gym clothes were torn?”

“Uh, I think I gave them my gym clothes. After that, I made it a point to go to the next classroom often and tried to stay with that kid as much as possible.”

“And then, the bullying gradually disappeared.”

I felt nostalgic for those days. I remembered running around the school actively in my sailor uniform.

“I knew there was some insidious bullying in the next class, but that had nothing to do with me, right? That was a problem for the parties involved to deal with, and it was none of our business. But you were different. You tried to save that kid with your own hands. That’s why you’re such a softie.”

I thought I was being praised. Tateha rarely showed emotions. However, the way he looked straight at me without teasing felt like words I should accept.

“Now you’re trying to help Asami, huh?”

“That’s not such a grand thing. It’s just that I owe Tateha…”

I only had sins I needed to atone for.

But I couldn’t say that.

While I was silent, the kitchen timer rang. I broke the roux and added it, then set the kitchen timer again. Tateha glared at me as I complained about how many times I was setting it.

“Are you still being…”

“Huh?”

“Abused.”

The words were few. I could feel the intention to convey it as simply as possible. So I also tried to respond as simply as I could, as if it were nothing.

“Not anymore.”

“I see.”

“I’m managing well. If anything, it’s almost too protective.”

“Then that’s good.”

The curry we made tasted almost exactly like what I usually ate at home.

I was amazed that something so delicious could be made just by cutting vegetables and adding roux.

Tateha and I enjoyed the curry we had made as an early dinner. I ended up going back for seconds.

After finishing washing the dishes, I wrapped the leftover curry and put it in the fridge. I heard that letting it sit overnight would enhance the flavor. When I asked Tateha what flavor meant, a question mark seemed to float above his head. He apparently didn’t quite understand either. His bewildered expression reminded me of when we first met, and I couldn’t help but smile.

After eating warm rice, my body and heart felt warm too. It was a sense of fulfillment, or perhaps happiness. I was wrapped in a relaxed satisfaction that made me question whether it was really okay to attain happiness so easily, while sipping on tea after the meal.

How wonderful it would be to spend such moments with Tateha. My heart danced at the thought of the peaceful moments that might come in the future.

As the sun began to set, I saw Tateha off at the entrance after he finished getting ready to leave.

“Uh, Tateha.”

“What is it?”

Tateha turned back, peering at my face with a puzzled expression. I must have looked tense, as he scrutinized me closely.

“If I said I killed someone, would you help me bury the body?”

The spices I had forgotten to add to the curry seemed to burn the back of my tongue.

Immediately, my throat felt dry, and my mucous membranes threatened to stick together.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer me.”

Tateha furrowed his brow but rested his chin on his hand, deep in thought.

“Well, I would report it to the police.”

“So you wouldn’t help me.”

“Of course not! Why should I bear the burden of your crime? A person who commits a crime should receive a punishment equal to the weight of that crime.”

Tateha possessed a normal sense of values and a healthy sense of justice. There could be no more legitimate evaluation than this.

As I fell silent, Tateha shrugged.

“You’re not the kind of person who would kill someone, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yes, because you’ve helped so many people in trouble. That’s something I’ve seen with my own eyes. Ruri, you’re a kind person.”

I realized that I had already come to a point of no return.

I had long since melted my personality to the point where it was unrecognizable, becoming a gooey state. I felt as if I didn’t exist at all, with evaluations differing from my own and from others.

Even when it became known that I had been abused, Tateha said nothing. He struggled and thought, yet he never considered ending our relationship. He continued to interact with me just as he always had.

So, I couldn’t help but think, perhaps…

Perhaps it was okay to tell Tateha about my past, about what I had done.

I had entertained a convenient thought.

It might have been better if we hadn’t become so close yet.

But Tateha and I had already developed a relationship that could be called best friends.

The stronger something is, the louder it crashes when it falls apart. That thought terrified me.

As the warm wind flowed in from outside, I felt my consciousness caressed and smiled ambiguously.

I was glad I hadn’t said anything. I was relieved I hadn’t lost my mind. I was almost swept away by the waves of a fulfilling day.

“Just…”

As Tateha was about to close the door, he turned back.

“If it’s to help you atone for your sins, I’d be willing to do that.”

With that, Tateha left.