Irreversible Sadism (GL) - Chapter 16
At the end of July, when the sunlight scorched the ground.
Despite the draining heat that sapped our physical and mental energy, everyone was buoyed by the nearly month-long freedom that lay ahead.
Having been liberated from the hell of end-of-term exams, we gradually felt the reality of summer vacation swell as the number of classes dwindled. Today, we spent our lunchtime using our notebooks as makeshift fans.
My pleas were no longer heard.
It had been a month since I conveyed that to Tateha.
After that, Tateha truly revealed my secret to the class. She apologized, claiming it was an accidental slip, but I knew that the strings of the puppet controlling that floating secret were tangled.
When I arrived at school in the morning, the entire class was staring at me. “I heard from Asami that it’s true?” I was surrounded by suspicious glances. Even though I had braced myself for this, I felt as if the bl00d vessels around my heart had suddenly turned cold.
Tateha had shared everything: that she had a prosthetic eye, the circumstances that led to it… and that she had been bullied by me.
Tateha and I. If trust were to be measured in numbers, mine would be the larger value. Thus, the expressions on my classmates’ faces resembled those of onlookers witnessing a bizarre incident in an otherwise mundane day, as if they were thinking, “Tateha Asami has said something strange.”
When I confirmed their suspicions, Tateha awkwardly apologized, saying, “I didn’t mean to say that.” It was a sarcastic apology, as if to say, “Didn’t I tell you?”
As a result, my trust plummeted. I felt pierced by the gazes that conveyed, “So that’s the kind of person you are,” leaving me with a hollow feeling throughout my body.
At that moment, Kururu extended a lifeline.
“No wonder I thought Asami was unusually kind.”
Others agreed with that statement. Apparently, I was perceived as being kind and lenient toward Tateha.
“I’ve turned over a new leaf. I’ve resolved not to do such things anymore… I thought I was living my life. Being kind to Tateha is just atonement.”
I had no idea how credible my explanation was. However, my classmates seemed to think, “So that’s how it is,” as if they had just watched an interesting movie with a somewhat disappointing ending. Thus, my confession of guilt came to an end.
The chime for homeroom rang, and the fact that it was still early in the morning helped. Everyone returned to their seats, and our daily routine resumed as usual.
With a sense of relief, I realized I had to be careful with my words and actions from now on.
The past me and the present me. To show that I was trying to change, it would surely require the passage of time rather than mere declarations of intent. Within the unceasing flow of time, I would demonstrate that I was already a different person.
I felt I had learned firsthand how well the system of probation was structured.
Since then, I had not engaged in such actions with Tateha.
Perhaps my feelings had been conveyed, as Tateha said, “Well then, I’ll try my best too.”
Tateha was now living in a world separated from pain. From what I heard, she wasn’t even inflicting pain on herself anymore.
Little by little, but surely, Tateha and I were moving from a negative to a neutral state.
“Oh, there you are.”
During lunch break, I found myself on the rooftop.
I pressed my forehead against the fence and spotted the familiar back hair fluttering in the wind.
Tateha’s hair curled inward as it approached the tips. The silky strands that framed her face seemed to have grown quite a bit since we met in spring.
“Ruri-chan.”
Noticing me, Tateha slowly turned around. The wind tousled her hair, exposing her ears. The piercings I had opened and the parts that had been torn were already beginning to heal.
“You figured out I’d be here.”
“A classmate said you headed to the rooftop. Can you see something?”
I pressed my forehead against the fence to see what Tateha was looking at.
“The roof of my house.”
“Well, that’s true, but…”
I wondered if it was really enjoyable to come all the way to the rooftop during lunch just to look at the roof of her house. I stared for a while, but it seemed like I would end up with a grid-like mark on my forehead, so I stopped.
“By the way, Tateha, what happened to that swallowtail caterpillar?”
About two weeks ago, while walking home with Tateha, we had found a swallowtail caterpillar. Its plump, green body was distinctive, and I recognized it immediately.
Tateha seemed intrigued by the caterpillar, stopping to lean in closely to observe it. I felt a flutter in my heart at that moment. I was happy to know that Tateha had interests beyond her pain, which brought me a sense of relief.
“Why don’t we keep it?” I suggested, and Tateha plucked the leaf with the caterpillar and took it home. Watching her carefully twist the leaf to avoid dropping the wriggling caterpillar, I felt as if a light had shone on our future.
Surely, we were beginning to change.
Pain was unnecessary.
We could live without cruelty.
“Ah.”
Tateha gazed at the unkempt edge of the rooftop. Pebbles, dried leaves, and discarded chopsticks lay scattered there.
Her unmoving right eye stared intently at that gray, trash-like place.
“It’s dead.”
The sharp summer sunlight poured down on us, scorching us once again today.