Irreversible Sadism (GL) - Chapter 5

The infirmary was empty after school.

Back in elementary and middle school, I often relied on the infirmary, having had my stomach ache a few times and being given warm water by the teacher. During those times, students would come in one after another, but by high school, everyone seems to find their own place, and perhaps they no longer depend on this space.

The high school infirmary was quiet.

Voices drifted in from beyond the window, but I couldn’t make out the words; the muffled sounds felt like they were leaking from another world.

“Could you close the curtains, please?”

Even so, I wanted to shield myself from being seen if someone came in, so I asked for my view to be blocked. Ruri looked at my dislodged prosthetic eye and her expression clouded.

A long silence followed. I pressed a tissue against my eye until the bleeding stopped. Ruri, gripping the hem of her skirt tightly, seemed like she wanted to say something many times, but her throat never released the words.

When it appeared the bleeding had stopped, I let go, and Ruri peered into the hollow. What did she see in that abyss?

“I’m sorry.”

In this vacuum, my voice didn’t reach her. Even in this suffocating space, there was still oxygen.

“I’m really sorry.”

As she gripped her skirt, a droplet fell onto the back of her hand.

Human tears are all like passing rain. They don’t fall in a regular pattern like rain from clouds. They can storm and scatter wildly, only to clear up as if nothing had happened.

“I’ve wanted to apologize about Tateha’s eye… for so long… but I was scared.”

“I received plenty of apologies back in elementary school. You came to my house so many times, Ruri. It’s enough already.”

An apology is not a cure; it’s merely a bandage that covers the wound. No matter how thickly it’s wrapped, it won’t hasten the healing.

“You must think, ‘What face do I have to show?’ after having bullied someone so much. I said terrible things and inflicted wounds that won’t heal. I took away… Tateha’s light. I know it’s not something that can be resolved with just an apology.”

In her clenched fist, there must be the trust and bonds she received from everyone in class. That dampness from her sweaty palms slowly seeped in, soaking into Ruri and sticking to her.

“But I… want to change. After that, I thought about how I could become a proper person. But with everyone watching, I couldn’t change easily.”

What is the definition of a proper person? If it’s defined by whether one has bullied others, does that mean those who have been bullied are equally proper people?

“In middle school, I transferred and started over from scratch. I helped those in trouble and supported those who were struggling. I don’t want to be that kind of person anymore. Tateha, I’ve changed my heart. I’ll never do something like that again.”

The white teeth peeking out from her pale pink lips trembled. It was as if a skull stripped of flesh was crying.

“So… if you could forgive me, I want to be friends. I’ll cherish you, Tateha. I’ll be kind to you. I want to start over again.”

“Ruri…”

It felt like I was watching an intermission play.

“I’m sorry for running away until now. I was scared to face it. But I won’t run away anymore!”

She must have changed. Ruri surely went to a middle school that wasn’t local and reconstructed herself in a new environment. The last time I saw Ruri, she was huddled in the shrine’s grove, swarmed by horseflies, so perhaps for her, that was a success.

Ruri became a bright, good girl whom everyone relied on. She didn’t look like someone who would bully others. Let alone someone who would stab a pencil into another’s eye.

“Yes, of course. I want to be friends with you too, Ruri.”

“Tateha…”

“You’ve apologized enough already. I can see that you’re genuinely reflecting on it just by looking at who you are now. So please, don’t apologize anymore.”

The way Ruri held my hand had transformed into that of a lost soul praying to God in a church. With her nose turning red, she repeatedly murmured, “Thank you.”

“Your prosthetic eye really is a hemisphere, isn’t it?”

Ruri said, looking at my dislodged prosthetic eye.

“Yeah, I didn’t know until I had to wear it.”

“By the way, Tateha. Have you told anyone about your prosthetic eye?”

“No, I haven’t. No one’s asked.”

“I think that’s for the best. If you tell them, there will definitely be insensitive people who will poke fun, just like those basketball players earlier. Be careful of people like that.”

When people see my right eye, which doesn’t have a prosthetic, they usually grimace. Even I think it looks unsettling every time I see it in the mirror. Even my mother finds it creepy.

But Ruri didn’t break her serious expression as she looked at my right eye.

“If that happens, tell me. I’ll definitely protect you, Tateha.”

No, that’s not it, Ruri.

What I want isn’t kindness. Kindness won’t fill my life.

“I want to atone for my sins. I’ll do anything you ask, Tateha. I’ll do everything you want me to do.”

“Then, Ruri, can I ask you for one thing?”

I don’t particularly want to reconcile. I don’t want to resolve what happened that day and become friends with you moving forward. I don’t want to free you from suffering by forgiving you.

Ruri, what I want is for you to open a hole in my empty life once again.

“I want you to stab me.”

I pointed at my right eye.

“You have a mechanical pencil in your bag, right?”

Ruri seemed unable to grasp the situation, her mouth half-open and frozen. Then, a look of anguish crossed her face.

Ah, she’s misunderstanding again. Ruri is going back to the past and regretting it. So fundamentally, she’s misinterpreting everything.

But I haven’t said anything, so I’m at fault too.

“Ruri, come here.”

As I pulled her hand, Ruri moved a little closer.

“I don’t want anyone else to hear.”

As I pulled her in closer, Ruri ended up hovering over me. Her plump, cute ear appeared right in front of my face.

“You know, I… like pain.”

I whispered, letting out a breath.

Ruri’s legs shifted, and she jumped up as if startled. Her face turned bright red as she pressed her hand against the ear that felt my breath.

“So please, stab me?”

I wouldn’t run away. Lying on the bed, I waited for Ruri’s response.

“If you don’t want to stab, something hot is fine too. Anything painful. I want you to do it like that time.”

“I can’t… do something like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t hurt you again, Tateha. I’ve finally changed. I don’t want to be someone who makes others unhappy.”

“But you can, right? You’ve done it before.”

You should know how. You should know the trick. You should be used to it by now.

Even in a situation where anyone else, a normal person, would surely ease up, Ruri wouldn’t hold back.

That’s what I want. I want to scream from the depths of my heart to stop, to feel the overwhelming joy that resonates to the marrow of my bones while my face is soaked with tears and snot.

Please, please, Ruri.

“Right now, no one will come in, so it won’t be discovered. Ruri…”

I reached out.

My plea was brushed aside by Ruri’s hand.

“N-no matter how much you ask, I can’t…!”

Ruri fled from me, leaving the infirmary.

The lingering warmth in my hand slipped away like a gentle spring breeze brushing against my cheek.

Ah, I see.

I’m a bit disappointed.

That version of you is no longer here.

But you can’t change.

The essence of a human being is structured in such a way that it never truly changes.

I know what Ruri fears the most.

What would she think if that happened?

Would she be angry? Disillusioned?

Would the Ruri from that day show herself again? She would, right?

Because the Ruri who thinks she has changed is wearing a mask made of plaster that doesn’t allow warmth to pass through, not the warmth of a person.

If that’s how you want to play it.

Then I won’t know anymore.