Irreversible Sadism (GL) - Chapter 8

For example, if the murderer seen in the news is the embodiment of evil, then is the good person the one who stops the murder? Or perhaps it’s the one who reports it? Or maybe it’s someone who lectures from a safe distance, saying, “Murder is wrong!”

The analogy may have been too intense and inappropriate, but the distinction between good and evil is indeed vast. A person walking through the streets with a knife, stabbing indiscriminately, is clearly a villain. But what does it take to become a good person?

Sometimes, I find myself stepping into such a labyrinth with no exit, going in circles until the sun sets.

Two months have passed since the entrance ceremony.

As the season begins to prepare for summer, the humid rain continues to fall day after day, to the point of boredom. I wonder when I stopped seeing the snails slowly traversing the stems of the hydrangeas.

Back when I was shorter, I used to notice such things, but perhaps there’s no real difference in my awareness now.

I loved finding snails, poking them with a stick, and observing their behavior closely. Not just snails, but insects in general. I was somewhat averse to winged insects. I preferred the small creatures that moved slowly yet diligently, like snails, caterpillars, and fuzzy worms.

But I no longer do that.

Today, the rainy season continues to batter against the window as usual.

Tateha seems to have caught a cold and was absent today.

As I stared blankly at the empty seat, a classmate mentioned Tateha’s name.

“Shouldn’t someone go visit him? You’re close, right? Everyone is.”

Unlike in elementary and middle school, overt bullying is less common in high school. At least, that’s how I remember it from what I can see.

However, while direct exclusion may have diminished, I feel that there has been an increase in subtle mockery, where people pretend to sympathize while belittling others.

“Really? You’d say, ‘That’s bad, right?’ if it were you. If it’s just a cold, why not leave him alone?”

A girl in class mimicked Tateha’s way of speaking.

I thought to myself that it didn’t sound like him at all, and then our eyes met.

“By the way, Miyama, you went to elementary school with Asami, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“What was she like? Do you have any funny stories?”

Perhaps I had a similar expression on my face.

I wore a friendly smile, but my lips curled up to reveal my white teeth. It was the kind of face that desperately wanted to maintain a sense of superiority by mocking others. Thinking back to my elementary school days, I realized I had tormented Tateha with such an ugly face, and I felt bile rise in my throat.

“Well, there aren’t really any funny stories. Tateha hasn’t changed at all since elementary school. She’s easy to talk to and a good kid. But sometimes I wish she’d be a bit more selfish.”

Perhaps because they didn’t get the story they were hoping for, the other kids looked bored.

“Yeah, I guess that could be true.”

But I know.

A group becomes strongest when everyone’s opinions align. An absolute bond is troublesome, as it forces a narrative where they are the righteous ones and everyone else is the enemy.

However, if even one person disagrees, that bond cannot form. No matter what the class thinks or says, as long as I am the only one supporting Tateha, there can be no division in the class.

Fortunately, I have managed to maintain a decent position in this class.

Since I didn’t agree, the plan to gossip about Tateha fell apart.

It was infuriating how easily I understood this. When I first met Tateha, I sought the approval of those around me before engaging in gossip.

I pretended to be a good student in front of the teachers and flirted with the boys.

I laughed at all of Tateha’s mannerisms.

The way she tilted her head like a little bird, the way she waddled like a penguin, the way she looked up at me like a puppy when she was in trouble, and the way she spoke as if a draft was blowing through her. To me, it all seemed contrived, forced, and hard to watch.

But now, I’ve started to think of those things as part of Tateha’s individuality. At the very least, I couldn’t do that.

Tateha is friendly. It’s hard not to want to help her. But that’s only when I’m involved. When I see her looking up at someone else, I still remember how my heart darkened.

These kids who just tried to bring up Tateha are the same.

When I realized that the smile I thought was directed solely at me was actually meant for everyone, I felt a sense of betrayal.

I would be happy if Tateha spoke to me, yet I couldn’t help but feel irritated when I saw her talking to someone else. That irritation, when it expands, gives birth to someone like me.

“But I’m worried. Even if it’s just a cold. I’ll go visit Tateha’s house after school!”

If speaking ill of someone makes one a villain, then the one who stops that gossip is the one doing good.

The person who maintains the group is the good person.

…Is that really true?

I put the notebook containing today’s lesson into my bag and headed toward Tateha’s house.

I’ve been to Tateha’s house about five times.

The first time was when I accidentally injured her eye. I came to apologize with my mother.

My mother’s words, “This isn’t something that can be resolved with an apology,” remain the most vivid in my memory. Every time I thought about what I should do, tears would well up, but as soon as I remembered that Tateha was the one who wanted to cry, my tears would dry up. In contrast, my mother cried and wailed the entire time.

But I’m not sure if she was truly sad. Perhaps my mother, just like me, didn’t know what to do.

The second and third times were additional apologies. I think I went through the motions to show my sincerity. I never got to ask why I didn’t continue going for the fourth and fifth times.

Then the fourth and fifth times were after entering high school.

On both occasions, I accompanied Tateha on her requests.

Tateha seems to like pain.

When I first heard that, I thought it was a joke. I even wondered if she was trying to justify the bullying I had inflicted on her in the past by saying that.

But gradually, I realized that was not the case.

When I would stab her with a mechanical pencil or choke her, tears would well up in the corners of her eyes as she pleaded, “Stop.” Yet, the depths of her eyes sparkled like bursting stars, her cheeks flushed, and her mouth softened.

That expression… it’s the same as someone gasping in pleasure.

Sweat beaded on my palms as I clenched my fists tightly.

If such… preferences, such… kinks exist, then what are they?

Moreover, if I’m complicit in this, then the very nature of a kink is rooted in pleasure, in sexuality… What does that make me, who assists in that?

Yet, the reality is that I cannot choose to refuse.

If I refuse, Tateha might talk about her right eye, just like she did when she was abused by Kururu the other day.

That cannot happen. Absolutely not.

A villain must always be suppressed, someone to be despised and scorned.

After I stabbed Tateha’s eye with a mechanical pencil, the way she looked at me changed dramatically. The other students and the teachers stopped smiling at me. They looked at me as if I were garbage, keeping their distance and refusing to engage.

That time was truly painful. I didn’t want to go to school, and there were times when I couldn’t even step outside, fearing that someone might see me.

Given what I had done, I thought it was only natural to be treated that way, but it didn’t change the fact that it was painful.

What if my past were to be revealed now?

I had finally managed to correct things. I was finally able to get along with everyone as a normal person. All of that would come crashing down. The smiles that had been directed at me, the trust I had gained, would all vanish.

Imagining that moment made me so scared that my legs trembled.

I exhaled and tried to relax my tension.

I pressed the doorbell at Tateha’s house.

I had sent a message, but it hadn’t been read.

She might be sleeping.

It would be rude to wake her, so if she doesn’t come out after a while, I’ll just leave the notebook in the mailbox and go home. Just as I thought that, the door slowly opened.

“Oh, uh? Ruri-chan?”

Tateha, with a cooling patch on her forehead, widened her eyes in surprise.

“Tateha, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was just feeling thirsty and was getting some tea on the first floor.”

“I see. Has your fever gone down? I heard you had a cold.”

“It’s back to normal now. I feel a bit dizzy, but it might just be because I overslept.”

As she bashfully flattened her bedhead with her hand, Tateha smiled sheepishly.

“Did you catch a cold because I splashed you with water yesterday?”

It was the same yesterday. Tateha insisted, so after school, we went into the unused restroom of the old school building, and I complied with her request. Tateha begged me to fill a bucket with water and force her head into it.

“It’s not good to talk at the door, so, um… do you want to come in? No one’s here right now.”

She looked up at me with the pleading gaze of a puppy when she’s in trouble.

Tilting her head like a little bird.

Laughing with a sound like a bell, “Ehe.”

—What was she like? Do you have any funny stories?

I recalled the words a classmate had said today.

“Well then, I guess I’ll come in.”

If being a good person means stopping the actions of a villain, then this is the only way.

Having taken away Tateha’s right eye, I must illuminate the path ahead for her, compensating for the light she has lost.

I slowly stepped through the entrance.