Irreversible Sadism (GL) - Chapter 35

The preparations for the cultural festival were progressing smoothly.

As a member of the cultural festival executive committee, my role was to decide on our class’s presentation and to facilitate the homeroom activities necessary for it. I was accustomed to such tasks, so I didn’t particularly worry about making mistakes.

Our class, Year One, Group Two, had decided to run a traditional candy shop.

Since it didn’t require any cooking, the burden of running the shop was lighter, and there was a sort of unspoken understanding that the more elaborate presentations, which would require the use of the cooking room, would be handled by the third-year students who were more familiar with the school’s rules.

The duties of running the shop included managing the cash register and restocking the candies. If we assigned one or two people to the children’s ring toss corner, the rest of us could enjoy the other presentations at the festival.

I was responsible for placing the order for the candies in consultation with our teacher, as I was the one on the cultural festival executive committee.

“Tateha, which one do you prefer, red or blue?”

“…Blue.”

“I thought you’d say that. What about this one?”

“Something like this.”

“Yeah, that looks great! You drew flower petals around the holes, didn’t you? It looks like a flower garden from this angle. I’m sure the kids who come will love it.”

I had asked Tateha to create illustrations for the ring toss. She had drawn several holes on a square piece of cardboard, which we would later insert sticks into to serve as targets for the rings. It seemed that she had added white and yellow flower petals around the holes.

Since I hadn’t specifically mentioned it, this was something Tateha had chosen to draw on her own. I wondered if she thought it was beautiful or cute. Either way, it made me happy.

“Why are you grinning?”

“Huh? Was I smiling?”

Tateha nodded.

It seemed I had unconsciously relaxed my mouth.

“Well then, let’s add this too.”

I drew a butterfly next to the flower petals she had painted. A beautiful butterfly in deep blue.

Upon seeing it, Tateha murmured, “I think it’s nice,” while touching the Ruri butterfly hairpin she had in her hair.

Tateha had started wearing the Ruri butterfly hairpin to school. When a classmate commented, “That’s cute,” she seemed a bit pleased.

Little by little, we were moving forward.

For Tateha, moving forward meant obtaining a normal life that didn’t require pain.

Previously, she had used the term “imperfect metamorphosis” to explain her anxieties, struggles, and conflicts, but I hadn’t fully understood all of it.

However, I did understand that she wanted to be normal and to experience a life that felt human.

That’s why Tateha was making an effort to blend into this classroom. Surely, there would come a time when she would have to graduate high school and take flight into the world of society.

At that moment, we needed to shape our own outlines so that we could spread our wings and soar.

“Ruri-chan.”

“Hmm? What is it, Tateha?”

“Can you hold my hand?”

Tateha, sitting next to me, had already leaned closer as she spoke.

Right now, there were only about ten classmates in this classroom. Those who had part-time jobs prioritized that over the preparations for the cultural festival and had left the classroom early.

From what I could see, everyone was focused on their own tasks, and no one was looking our way.

I gently enveloped the hesitant hand that Tateha had extended.

Although Tateha had stopped fixating on pain, that desire hadn’t completely vanished. Even now, while living at my house, she sometimes bit her nails or tried to cut her stomach with scissors. Perhaps, when I wasn’t looking, she was doing other things in secret.

I had told Tateha that she could always rely on me whenever she felt the urge to hurt herself.

It seemed that when she touched me, that self-harming impulse diminished.

I didn’t know the reasoning behind it, but if it helped her, I would cooperate as much as I could.

Sometimes, like now, she would plead with me in the classroom. Naturally, it was embarrassing, but considering the sins I had committed, I felt I deserved to be exposed.

“What about hugging?”

Tateha then moved closer, as if seeking something.

While preparing for the cultural festival, if someone were to see us hugging, they might think we were slacking off. There could be other misunderstandings as well.

Even so, I wouldn’t refuse.

At the moment the curtain by the window fluttered, I pulled Tateha into an embrace.

The few seconds of closeness while the wind blew held an intensity that felt utterly out of place in this school environment.

“Miyama-san!”

I jumped at the sound of a voice from the hallway.

Looking over, I saw a student from the neighboring class’s cultural festival executive committee waving me over.

I might have been seen hugging Tateha.

Feeling the heat rise to my face, I stood up.

“They want all the cultural festival committee members to gather. They’re bringing out unused chairs from the prep room.”

“Okay! I’ll be right there!”

I brushed off my knees and released the connected hands.

“Sorry, Tateha. I have to go.”

“Are you coming back?”

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

Tateha said this and returned to her interrupted task.

“Wow, you’re a lifesaver, Miyama-chan. None of the cultural festival committee members are showing up when called! In the end, you’ve done most of the work, haven’t you? It must have been tough!”

“Not at all! If you need me, just call anytime!”

After finishing transporting all the chairs from the prep room to the gymnasium, I greeted the seniors and returned to the classroom.

The classmates who had been working had stopped and seemed to be taking a break.

I noticed that Tateha was missing and asked a nearby student if they had seen her. It turned out that Tateha had been called to help in the gymnasium just a moment ago.

It seemed like everything was in a bit of a frenzy.

Tateha must have found a good stopping point, as the cardboard and colored pens we had been using were already put away.

Surely, not everyone had been called. Many students remained in the class. This meant that Tateha had taken the initiative to go help.

Thinking about that made me feel a bit happy.

With nothing to do, I called out to Kururu, who was by the teacher’s desk.

“Oh, aren’t you going to chase after your princess, knight?”

“Huh? What’s with that way of calling me?”

“You two have been getting along well lately. Everyone’s calling you that.”

“I’ve never heard that before.”

I sat down next to her. It seemed Kururu was watching cat videos on her phone.

“Cats are so cute, aren’t they?”

Noticing that I was peering at the screen, Kururu murmured.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

“It’s fine. I was actually hoping to hear your thoughts on it too.”

“My thoughts?”

I didn’t understand what she meant, but Kururu continued to look at the screen.

“This video is about a kitten that was rescued from drowning.”

“Oh, those kinds of videos have been popping up a lot lately. I think I saw one on a short clip the other day.”

In the video, someone was just about to extend a net to a drowning kitten. Despite the tense situation, the caption read, “Grab it quickly, LOL,” in a cheerful font.

“What do you think, Ruri?”

“I think it’s great that it was saved. And it’s cute too.”

“Of course, I agree that it’s cute and that it’s good it was saved. But I can’t help but feel uneasy about the sudden increase in these types of videos.”

“What do you mean?”

“If the increase in abandoned cats is due to environmental issues, habitat loss, or the effects of deflation, then that’s something we can’t help. But if abandoned cats are increasing for other reasons? Or rather, let’s rephrase that. If only the videos of ‘rescuing abandoned animals’ are increasing, then that clearly indicates that the supply is outpacing the demand.”

Kururu, who had struggled through the first semester with failing grades and spent most of summer vacation in remedial classes, sometimes spoke about complex topics like this.

“Um, so what do you mean?”

“I’m suggesting that these videos are being intentionally created. For example, in this video, they say they rescued a drowning kitten, but what if… the poster threw the kitten into the sea?”

“That sounds a bit paranoid, doesn’t it? I don’t think there are people who would do something so cruel.”

“A kitten that fell into the sea. It probably doesn’t even know how to swim. Moreover, the sea is extremely cold at this time of year. Drowning or dying from hypothermia is a real possibility, and yet, a person with a camera just happens to pass by and saves the kitten while it still has some strength left. I just can’t accept that. It’s one thing if it’s just one video, but there are multiple videos like this posted online.”

In the video, the person was pulling the kitten out of the net and drying it off with a towel.

The kitten was shivering but still seemed to be alive, and after a blackout, the video showed it receiving treatment at the poster’s home.

“This isn’t the only video. There are other situations where a person with a camera or someone who knows how to film and upload videos to sites just happens to find an animal in distress. Of course, there must be genuine cases too. But among this countless array of videos, there are those that are intentionally creating ‘pitiful subjects.’ Thinking about that terrifies me.”

“Is it really terrifying? Even if what Kururu says is true, lives are still being saved.”

“That’s not it. That’s not it at all.”

The video ended with footage of the kitten recovering in a hospital days later.

Putting her phone away, Kururu said, “If there was a small life on the verge of death right in front of you, wouldn’t it be more important to take that life to the hospital quickly rather than pulling out your phone and filming? I believe that’s true… justice.”

“That’s…”

I knew. Kururu was someone filled with a sense of justice more than anyone else.

Previously, when I had ripped Tateha’s earring off, Kururu had rushed to check on her. Her body moved before her mind could even think. Such a person could truly be called a knight.

“Wanting to reach out to someone in need is a wonderful thing. But creating a subject to help just because you want to help… is worse than being a villain.”

I wondered why.

Even though Kururu was speaking about the videos, a pain welled up in the depths of my eyes.

“I call those who create subjects to help ‘justice addicts.’”

Kururu’s eyes narrowed, sharp and directed toward the people who must be on the other side of the screen.

As for me, I could only offer vague responses.