I was about to say no, I don't know why, but I clearly didn't end up doing it. And if for some reason I really wanted to say no, I doubt I would have, since I was still processing everything she'd said.
More than what he said, I focused on why he said it. I knew nothing about his father before, and now at least he'd told me something. He seems like a very nice person, just like his mother. I could understand why he and Haruka had ended up together. The only thing that bothered me, that I still hadn't processed, was that sentence, or, no… his whole speech in general.
She was speaking with a certain nostalgia in her voice, as if she were remembering, not describing. She gave the appearance of being so serene…
He wasn't so stupid as not to know what she was up to, but he didn't know how to bring up the subject without hurting her.
"Yes, don't worry."
I told him, having calmed down a little without realizing it, although I hadn't moved from the place where I had stayed.
"Don't you want to sit down too? You must be tired of standing there."
"I'm fine…"
"Do you really not want to sit down?"
He didn't seem to be bothering me. It would be strange if he started making jokes right now. I gave up on the idea of continuing to stand and went to the bed to sit down.
Taking the first step sent a shiver down my spine. I felt my heart racing with every step; I was getting dizzy. I tried my best to pretend I was okay, but I don't know how effective it was.
"Get out of here, " he said. "You don't deserve to be here. Your mere presence tarnishes the image of what this place was and is. You have no business being here, so leave."
"You dare to wear those bandages on your hands as if they were your pride, but all they cover is sin. Hands that only know how to destroy should be as far away from here as possible."
"What are you going to break next?"
"Riku, are you really okay? You're… bleeding." For a moment, I mistook Otsuki's voice for the others, until I perceived the concern in her tone.
Following her comment, I looked at the hand Otsuki had noticed, loosening my grip to examine it. It wasn't much, but the bandage was stained with a little blood. It was obviously on my knuckles. Squeezing my hand so tightly would have reopened the wounds.
Seeing the blood was making me hysterical, so I avoided looking at the bandage any longer and hurried to sit up in bed. I still had to answer Otsuki.
"I'm fine. They haven't completely healed yet."
"Yes?"
"Yes."
Otsuki, doubting my testimony a little, accepted without any other choice.
Silence fell again in the room. This time, we were both facing each other, inevitably, that's how the room was arranged. I stared at the floor, ignoring the pain in my hand and the blood that stained the bandage. Otsuki paid attention to my wound for a moment longer before shifting her gaze to the window to her right.
Faced with the silence, and anxious for Otsuki to say something, I looked up at her, to see if she would respond to my gaze, but she continued staring out the window. I would have asked her if she was farming aura if it weren't for the situation. I regretted thinking that almost instantly.
Even so, it amused me somewhat. She looked like a model posing for a photograph, the sunlight streaming through the window hitting her full. The way her hair shimmered in that light, the two strands of hair resting on her shoulders, and her gaze… it was full of melancholy.
"Is there anything outside?"
I did my best to break the ice, and that was to delegate the conversation to her. I would have asked if she was okay, but I didn't think it was appropriate.
"Ah, I was distracted for a moment."
And his response was the least likely thing to start a conversation.
"...I think I understand you."
"...What do you understand?"
The person who said it knew perfectly well what they meant.
"…I think I understand you too… We're both a little shy… We're similar…"
My whole body tensed, and I began to exude a certain hostility, more toward the statement than toward Otsuki herself. But it also bothered me that she said that. That she thought she knew that. She knows nothing, she's delusional, she hasn't a clue. Even feeling like this, I played dumb; I didn't want to yell at her, I didn't want to get angry. "Understand your place ," I told myself, " understand this place ," I pleaded.
"…" Otsuki remained silent, seemingly conflicted. I couldn't say exactly what about, but perhaps she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell me why she felt that way. We're just acquaintances; it's normal for her to be so cautious. I understand. After about 15 seconds, she finally began to speak.
"…It was a year ago. I was at home; I hadn't made plans with Natsuki and Hina that day. In the morning, my parents were planning to go out on something like a date, and unexpectedly, they invited me to go with them. I told them I didn't feel like it, and that I had to study anyway. Study Monster Hunter, apparently."
Otsuki mentioning Monster Hunter caught me off guard, but I didn't pay much attention since he kept talking. I was afraid that he might eventually say what I'd been thinking up until that moment.
"They were relatively young to be parents, and given their personalities, it didn't seem strange to me that they went on a date even though they had a daughter. Who was I to criticize them for anything?"
The way she said it, it seemed she did reproach them a little, but she might have said it to better understand my situation. Although, including me in her monologue like that was rather selfish, since she didn't seem to consider my presence while she was reminiscing.
"Putting all that aside, they left shortly after asking. It was mid-afternoon when I started playing, and I didn't stop until dinner. My parents hadn't told me when they were coming, so I figured they'd be late. I remember joking out loud that they'd be staying at a love hotel."
"After dinner, I decided to call Natsuki and Hina. They had decided not to meet up to study, but only Hina answered. Natsuki said she was still studying. I don't remember what I talked about with Hina, though it wasn't anything important. It was 2 a.m. when I had to hang up. It wasn't because I was sleepy, but an unknown number started calling the landline…"
Otsuki stiffened after the mention of the number. She also clasped her hands together, interlacing her fingers. It seemed to calm her.
"I was downstairs in the living room. I got really scared, and I told Hina to remember me as a hero. I always answered every call I could, and I still do. It's a habit I've had since I was little. I went downstairs with my phone's flashlight, turned on the light, and had time to answer the phone. When I picked it up, a woman answered, and she quickly told me she was calling from the hospital. At first, I thought she was going to talk to me about a medical check-up or something, but it was 2 a.m. It was impossible… I thought it was a joke until she asked for my name. I told her it was me."
Up until now, Otsuki had been looking at the floor, occasionally noticing something in the room, but from that moment on his gaze was fixed on the window again.
"She didn't tell me at the time, but she had just called my grandfather, on my father's side. She told me, trying to be as careful as possible."
"My parents had been in a car accident."
Her gaze turned desolate, the light disappearing from her eyes at times.
"My mother has never told me anything about what she did with my father on the date. I only know what she told me afterward. They were coming back from the date, or looking for a place to have dinner. My mother was driving, and the car was also hers. There was nothing wrong with the car, and my mother didn't do anything wrong. And yet, one of the tires blew out. Right before a curve."
" …" I didn't need to hear anything else. I wanted to tell him he didn't need to go on. That he could stop talking. That I could already imagine what happened. I couldn't.
"My mother was very lucky, apart from a few scrapes, she only had a not very serious cut on her head… My father… You can imagine, right?"
The way she looked at me begged me to imagine it. When I made eye contact with her, I looked away at the door.
"If… and—" I tried to tell Otsuki to stop talking, but I cut myself off; I didn't have the courage. I started to feel guilty. Was she telling me all this just to justify something so insignificant? She didn't have to; I would have believed her completely. I would have apologized for not believing her in the first place.
"…For three days I was at home not knowing what was going to happen. I was able to do everything on my own; the only thing I didn't do was go to class. I said I was sick. I'd manage later. On the fourth day, they called me again. After that, I didn't answer any more calls. Or leave the house. Nothing."
However sad her voice sounded, she didn't seem anywhere near crying. I struggled to hold back my tears. I felt disgusted by the urge to cry, and not just because I was doing it in front of her. They weren't even tears directed at her story.
"My grandfather had to come and take care of me, even after that. He stayed until the week my mother was discharged. They didn't take long to discharge her, but she couldn't go to the funeral. I ended up going, although my grandfather made me a bit of a fuss. My mother was able to go to the ceremony we held afterward; by then she was more or less recovered from her injury."
Otsuki suddenly fell silent. She didn't continue her story for a moment. On impulse, I seized the opportunity to stop her.
"You don't need to tell me any more. I… understand."
"…Sorry. In the end, I was just rambling on."
Looking up when she heard me speak, and fixing her eyes on my face, Otsuki smiled slightly, kindly. She didn't seem to want to say anything more about the matter. I must have done the right thing.
I didn't understand why she kept talking; she could have stopped if it hurt so much. She should have stopped. Why had she forced herself? Why? Did she really want to tell me? Or did she think I was pressuring her? I didn't want to believe that last option.
Hearing her story and seeing how gently she was speaking to me made me feel even more guilty. She wasn't wearing it anymore; it was only the second time I'd seen her face without that white patch on her nose. It was as if it had never happened, and yet, it was in that moment that it weighed on me the most.
Having been through all that, and then some kid comes along and punches me right in the face. What would his father have said to me? He probably would have hated me, he would never have forgiven me.
I will never be able to apologize to him.
"…" That's when I thought I heard something like laughter. Or no, not even that, it was more like the snort someone makes when they find something funny.
I thought I'd made some kind of funny face out of distress, so I looked down. I couldn't feel embarrassed; I felt disappointed in myself. I thought she'd keep talking in that vacant tone. This was the only thing I really didn't understand.
"Dad would be laughing at me if he saw me."
Otsuki brought her left hand to her forehead, resting her elbow on the armrest of the chair. The melancholy from before hadn't disappeared, but it was masked by a more cheerful voice.
"He would never have wanted to see me like this, never. He would have grabbed my hands and said, 'You're stupid!'"
When I realized it wasn't me delusional, but her speaking, I didn't know what to think. I was completely lost. As much as I wanted to understand why she was saying that, I couldn't. I wasn't avoiding understanding it; until recently, I genuinely couldn't make sense of it.
Otsuki took a deep breath before removing her hand from her forehead and resting both hands in her lap. A moment later, one of them began to grasp her trousers as she looked down at the floor and continued speaking.
"…I want to believe it wasn't my fault, or my mother's, or anyone else's. But, as much as I want to, there will always be a part of me that blames everything I can relate to it. 'I have to blame something, anything,' that's what I believed. I thought that if I stopped doing it, if no one was to blame, then it wouldn't make sense."
Little by little, he let go of his pants, and that hand went on to play with one of his long strands of hair.
"And what is a senseless action? Irrationality deprives everything that comes its way of value, and that made me think that nothing that had happened had any weight. Every time I thought about what he would say to me, he used it against me."
Her gaze shifted for a moment to the photo on the altar, and then she looked away, as if it reminded her of someone outside the picture, or as if that same person were in the photo.
"She used it against me " was the most I understood from everything she said. It was clear I couldn't know what she was thinking now, but it was probably what she said at the beginning.
Her father wouldn't blame her; he'd motivate her in his own way. Or at least that's what she wants to think now. What suits her best, to be more precise.
Trying to fill your head with whatever you want just to have a little peace is selfish. You're running away from the main issue, wallowing in an idealized version of what could or couldn't be, of what would make you happier.
You're disrespecting all those people who have to deal with the facts. It's just as offensive as saying 'I understand,' or... anything else. They apologize, they encourage you, they give you their deepest respect, when they have no right to do so.
To them, she was just another person, someone a close friend knew, who was only interested in her because someone else knew her, and so on until she reached the one person who truly mattered. All because of some stupid formality.
Based on what Otsuki told me, his father would probably think the same. He wouldn't care who was at his funeral, since he knows who cares about him and who doesn't. Those things aren't shown by attending a funeral.
Little by little, I got lost in my own speech, something that Otsuki didn't notice, since I still had the same expression, neutral, looking at the ground because I couldn't look at her.
"I kept wondering if I did the right thing going to his funeral. I don't think I'll ever be able to get it out of my head, no matter how much time passes. Aside from my grandfather, there was nobody there I cared about. There were maybe 11 people, I'm making up the number a little. But what I mean is, no, it didn't matter that there were people there. It wasn't Dad who was inside, nobody was inside. I forced myself to think that his spirit cursed me until the very last moment of the ceremony for not going out with them."
What's the point? It's not about the formality, it's about doing it. They can say all they want about 'showing respect,' about 'it's tradition,' but all they're doing is making the wound hurt even more. They're not thinking about the people truly affected; it's all tradition, tradition, and more tradition.
They'll tell you you're crazy if you put flowers that aren't blue or white on a grave. What if they preferred a more vibrant color? A color that would reflect their life as it was: a true radiance, striking, alive, damn it. All that softness and platitudes only serve to take more life away from those who have passed away.
"I also thought I didn't have the right to speak for my mother. The following month I spent all my time doing housework. Cleaning the house, doing the laundry, and I almost always cooked. I stopped studying. And if I did study, it was just to pass, that's all; grades stopped mattering to me. All I wanted was for my mother to feel good. Every time I went to sleep, I couldn't. I…"
And the same goes for altars. Souls don't exist, I know that perfectly well. How can I believe in them if I don't believe in God? I hate the idea that God exists; more than convenient, it bothers me. It bothers me to think that he's watching everything that happens, that all the pain we feel is either part of his 'grand divine plan,' or that he blames our sin, our very being.
Altars serve no other purpose than to remind loved ones, over and over again, who that missing person is. They speak to the grave, to the altar, as if it were that person; it's humiliating. It's not even escapism, it's pathetic.
"…That's why I wanted to stop thinking like that. I understood that I couldn't stay like that. No matter how much you mature, you're not going to get over something like that, but at least you can come to terms with it. It's not like I'm super mature now or anything like that, but I can live. I can and I want to. When I start to think that there are other things, that there's a future, I want to keep going. I want to see if that future is good or not."
The best thing would be to move on, to grow up already. Anyone who can't forget someone is weak, and incapable of overcoming that weakness. It would be better if you forgot, if you could live without it. It would be so much easier. It should be. Life is already complicated enough without having to put up with things like this …
Her expression became too complicated to understand. After we'd talked about the future, she stood up from her chair and looked me in the face. Of course, I was looking at the floor, but not so much that she couldn't see my face. And it wasn't just that I was avoiding her gaze; I hadn't even paid attention to what she said, and if I had, I surely would have ignored it and gone on with my own thoughts. What Otsuki said next pulled me out of my daze.
"Of course, I didn't do any of that alone. I couldn't have done it."
"In difficult times, the best thing is to stand together…"
"!"
I raised my head, our eyes meeting. She had completely changed. She wasn't desperate, depressed, or nostalgic. She was looking back at me with… something in her eyes. Why?
Maintaining a more or less neutral expression, and with both hands behind his back, he asked me somewhat mysteriously, "Could you get up for a moment?" Having regained my senses, I hid my right hand, the one that had been bleeding recently. I had no reason to do so; I just know I did. I didn't respond immediately, but not because his request bothered me.
"Why?" I said, a little quietly.
"So you don't ruin the moment for me," she replied, a little annoyed.
Following her orders, I got up. Normally, I'm the one who orders her to get out of bed. Once I was up, I waited for her to do something. She stopped hiding her hands behind her back, and for a moment I thought she was going to take something out, but she didn't.
He came closer to me. And closer still. I backed away a little, not knowing how to react, but I touched the edge of the bed. I only noticed one of his hands, which started to rise, and for a second I thought he was going to hit me.
I tried to find a reason, and the only thing I could think of was that she'd think that if she slapped me across the face, I'd stop feeling bad about what I did. I didn't buy that idea because I doubted Otsuki was thinking about something so trivial at that moment. She was probably going to hit me to relieve herself, to let go of some of that frustration.
As usual, I closed my eyes, clenched my hands, and bit down hard, and waited. One step, two steps, and… whoosh-
"
I don't know if it will help to say this, but you're going to be okay."
Otsuki hugged me.
"I didn't know it, but being hugged helped me a lot. My mother always does it when I come home from school. I exaggerated it because I watched a lot of romance series, but it's not that big of a deal."
I could feel his heartbeat through his chest. He was a little agitated, but much calmer than I expected. He smelled like any old shampoo. At least it wasn't cologne; it usually has a very strong scent. I could feel a bit of his hair on my left cheek, and because of the height difference between us, he was almost leaning on my shoulder. His hands were gently supporting my back, not really making much contact, but enough for me to know they were there. Otsuki was hugging me.
I felt a shiver run through my body. Instead of blushing or pushing her away, I stayed still. It took me by surprise when she hugged me, but that wasn't why I didn't do anything. It was just because I couldn't hug her back, nor could I reject her. For her part, it was something mundane. Since last week, I had formed an image of Otsuki as a tsundere , but her behavior now was nothing like that. Not even a hint of embarrassment, or warm kindness, nothing. She was just a girl who decided to hug me. Perhaps, for my own good.
It can't be for my sake, after everything she's said. She should be thinking about her father, or whoever helped her. It makes no sense for her to be thinking about me. She said before that irrationality is worthless. So this is worthless, it makes no sense.
I shouldn't matter to her. We've met three times, and the first time was awful. I shouldn't matter to her at all. We're just strangers who've barely spoken, and what little we have spoken to are just bad memories. So…
"Why are you hugging me?"
"Because you are my friend."
Another shiver ran down my spine. Thank goodness Otsuki couldn't see my dumbfounded face. I was completely speechless.
"Whether you see it or not, you're already my friend. Come on, I don't usually do this with strangers. I don't think anyone does."
She paused briefly, then let go of me. It was definitely a long hug, though I didn't realize it at the time.
I focused solely on what had happened, ignoring everything else, because I was looking into her eyes, still confused. Or rather, shocked. Incredulous. Hearing that word.
Otsuki cleared his throat, and in the same tone he had before, when we were downstairs, said, "And, this is the last thing I'm going to bother you about."
""
"You are not alone, Riku."
""
You're not alone. You're not alone, you're not alone… It echoed in my head. So many things were crashing inside my head at once, I didn't have time to think about it. And that's why I didn't. If I did it now, who knows what might happen.
I didn't want to cry in front of him.
"Thank you."
I was trying to hide my trembling. I was too agitated, getting nervous. After this, I knew I was going to say goodbye to her. I tried to put on my best face when I thanked her. "You're welcome," she replied.
I guess after that, she understood it was time to go downstairs. I turned toward the door, "Really, thank you so much." The second time I said it, it felt more genuine.
"I know." This time, a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. Or rather, on her face in general. Realizing how long we'd been there, I took my phone out of my pocket to check the time. It was 2 PM. Between messing around, doing homework, and talking, we'd wasted the whole morning. If she went home now, she was going to be late for lunch. As I walked toward the door to leave, I asked Otsuki.
"Do you want to stay for lunch?"
"No, don't bother. I already have food at home. If my mother doesn't get too clever."
It was an empty offer. Deep down, I thought it was better for him to leave, but I didn't want an awkward silence as I left the room. And that's when I realized it. That I was the only one leaving.
"Is something wrong?"
"Wait for me downstairs. I'll be right there. Oh, and if you could close the door too..."
Something about her expression struck me as odd, out of character. More than just unusual, it was different from the attitude she'd had since she got up. I could tell what she wanted to do, and I didn't waste any time ruining the moment.
I nodded.
"Then I'll wait for you downstairs."
'Click!' I made sure to close the door properly. I went downstairs to the living room right after; I hadn't planned on staying there spying like a creep. Although that didn't change the fact that you were one .
Once in the living room, I sat down on the sofa, letting my full weight fall into it. Although I didn't lie down, I made myself as comfortable as I could, now that I didn't have to keep up appearances.
At that moment, I didn't cry for two reasons.
I didn't want to cry right when she was crying too; she might even hear me. If she's not very loud, she shouldn't hear her. And even if she does, I'm not going to tell her. She'll know I know what she's going to do.
Then, the second reason was because I couldn't cry in front of him. He looked at me from the television with disdain. As if he were looking at a stray dog. He didn't say anything. He just watched. Watched. Watched. In my eyes. With his own. He wouldn't let me cry. He wasn't going to allow it. He wasn't going to let me forget. To accept. Anything.
Nothing she told me helped.