Irreversible Sadism (GL) - Chapter 7

The sensation of the mechanical pencil piercing Tateha’s eye is still vividly etched in my memory.

It clings to my mind, to my fingertips, refusing to let go. The sound of something changing shape without resistance, like crumpling newspaper. The image of jelly molded into a shape, suddenly bursting forth with nowhere to go.

And then, Tateha’s voiceless cry.

I gasped, struggling to breathe, curled up in a ball.

I think I laughed at first, thinking it was just a joke.

When I saw fresh bl00d spilling from the gap between my fingers pressed against my right eye, that’s when my face finally contorted in horror.

At that moment, all I could think about was my own self-preservation. What should I do? The teacher will be angry. My parents will be called. I didn’t care about Tateha’s well-being at all.

I am worthless.

Deep down, I realized I was a born villain.

Why did I do such a thing? It wasn’t my intention to stab him with the pencil. My foot slipped, I tried to catch myself, and I forgot I was holding the pencil… and again, I ran to protect myself.

I shouldn’t have bullied him in the first place.

I remember a little why I started bullying Tateha.

He was a cheerful kid, and at first, I thought he was nice. But once I noticed he smiled at everyone, I began to feel irritated every time I saw that smile.

Tateha was the type to watch people’s expressions, following someone around like a little shadow.

Seeing him talk to each classmate in turn, like pouring water from a kettle evenly, I pointed him out to my friends and laughed, saying, “Look, now he’s talking to that kid,” and that was the beginning of it all.

The mockery turned into gossip, the gossip into verbal abuse, and eventually, it culminated in violence.

I never thought that my escalating actions were bullying. Throwing an eraser at Tateha during class to annoy him, dragging him into the bathroom during recess to beat him up, all of it was just part of my school life.

When the pencil robbed Tateha of his eyesight and I had to apologize directly to his parents, I finally realized the gravity of what I had done.

But it was all too late.

That was when my father began to turn violent towards me.

“What you did was this,” was my father’s catchphrase.

Getting hit hurts. Once you’ve been hit, even if you’re not being hit, just being approached is terrifying. Just making eye contact makes my heart race, and I realized that violence controls both the mind and body. I became afraid to go home and started spending time at a shrine far from my house.

I thought that if I was here, even if my father found me, the gods would help me.

In the later years of elementary school, thanks to my mother noticing my father’s violence, the abuse came to an end. Even now, there’s an awkward atmosphere with my father, but we manage to maintain a somewhat normal family structure.

The news of me stabbing Tateha in the eye spread like wildfire, and even friends and teachers began to look at me differently.

I no longer had a place to belong.

And I was scared.

I hadn’t spoken to Tateha since we were separated into different classes, but we occasionally passed each other in the hallway.

When I first saw Tateha after his surgery, his right eye had healed, and I thought everything I had witnessed was just a bad dream. But when I learned it was a prosthetic eye, my chest tightened.

Every time I looked at Tateha’s right eye, I remembered that day.

That’s why I wanted to go to a place where Tateha wasn’t.

I deliberately enrolled in a different school for middle school.

Starting anew became a turning point that changed me.

I lived a fulfilling school life, feeling like a person who couldn’t possibly be the one who bullied someone to the point of blindness.

I made it a point to help anyone in need. I vowed never to speak ill of my friends. I worked hard in my club activities. I studied diligently. I tried to act as cheerful as possible. I was kind to everyone.

Yes, I am capable.

This hand that pierced Tateha’s right eye was merely a burden, trying to drag me back into villainy.

The person who used to bully others is no longer here. I decided to become a serious person. I resolved to be a kind person who could consider others. With that determination, I spent my middle school years carefully hiding the past tragedy, like smearing wax over it.

But there was a lingering unease in my heart.

I wondered how Tateha was doing now.

I desperately researched in the library about what happens after losing eyesight, how to handle a prosthetic eye, and the disabilities that arise from losing one eye.

I worried that Tateha might be bullied because of his prosthetic eye.

I wondered if he was inconvenienced by not being able to see out of his right eye.

I read in a book that losing sight in one eye makes it difficult to perceive depth, causing flying balls or approaching cars to appear as if they are standing still.

Now, I couldn’t help but worry about Tateha.

At that moment, for the first time, a desire to confront the past I had been avoiding began to grow within me.

…I want to see him.

I want to meet him and settle things.

I want to atone for my sins.

I know that just apologizing won’t resolve everything, but still, I want to apologize. I want to press my forehead to the ground and apologize until my voice is hoarse.

If a miracle happens and I can meet him again, I will never bully him again.

Tateha probably hates me and I doubt he could ever forgive me, but still, I want to do what I can.

I have changed my heart. The person I was that day is no longer here.

Bullying should never happen for any reason.

I have killed the wicked demon who used to pour water on him, stab him with a pencil, burn his wounds, and laugh maniacally.

I will become a good person.

That is my way of confronting my indelible sins.

“Ruri-chan.”

…And yet.

“Your grip is loosening. Cough, what’s wrong? Aren’t you going to continue?”

Why am I gripping Tateha’s neck?

Tateha’s eyes are brimming with tears, and drool bubbles from his mouth.

I was choking Tateha.

Why, why has it come to this?

I will never bully anyone again. I won’t hurt anyone.

I decided to become a good person.

“Ah, ka… ha!”

Why am I trying to put my weight on him and stop his breath?

Tateha’s eyes roll back. But his right eye stares fixedly at one point, unmoving. Because it’s a prosthetic eye. The light has been lost.

Yet, tears still flow. I learned from a book that even with a prosthetic eye, the glands that secrete tears are still alive.

Tateha and I have a fateful reunion, and I apologize to him for everything I’ve done. Tateha and I open up to each other, and the issues between us dissolve.

I’m sorry. No, it’s okay. Will you still be friends with me? Of course.

In that conversation, I shed tears of relief. And Tateha, too, takes my hand with tears in his eyes.

When I learned that tears can still flow from a prosthetic eye, I imagined such a convenient development. If only it could be that way. I thought I had been working hard to make it happen.

I’ve tried to become sensitive to others’ pain, to be someone who can empathize with others.

And yet, what is this?

No.

This is not what anyone wants.

I released my grip on Tateha and fell back.

I got off the bed and tightly grasped my bag that had fallen on the floor, trying to overwrite the sensation of choking Tateha.

“Why are you stopping?”

“I… I have to go home soon…”

Tateha, looking down at me from the bed, smiled with a dazed expression.

“Your family will worry about you, right? Okay, I’ll walk you to the door.”

Tateha, adjusting his disheveled clothes, was drenched in sweat, his shirt clinging to his skin and slightly transparent. His breath was still ragged, and his expression remained dazed as he accompanied me to the entrance.

“Isn’t your mom still not home?”

“Yeah, I don’t think she’ll be back today.”

In the dimly lit entrance, I managed to hold a conversation with Tateha.

It hardly felt like communication between two people who had just been choking each other. When I opened the door, the moonlight softly illuminated the world.

“Ruri-chan!”

A bouncy voice fell upon my back.

“Will you come again?”

Refuse, me.

This is strange. It’s definitely wrong.

I decided to become a good person. So why am I doing this?

“Yes, if that’s what Tateha wants.”

And yet.

The artificially constructed sense of justice can be shattered so easily.

I cautiously looked into Tateha’s eyes.

That prosthetic eye made of synthetic resin absorbed all the light, reflecting none, and in the pitch-blackness, it stared intently at me.