“Mm,” Suema nodded.
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“I can’t be hated by anybody. That’s the way I am, but if this goes on, he’s going to hate me...”
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“Mm.”
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“But the only thing justifying my existence is that nobody hates me. But there’s nothing I can do. . .nothing left for me to do.
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I’d be better off if I wasn’t alive...”
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“Impossible,” Suema spoke at last. “It’s impossible to live without someone hating you,” she declared.
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“Eh. . .?” Aya looked up.
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Suema stared at her, peering into her eyes. Not accusingly, though. No, it was like the gaze of a mother looking at a sleeping child. Yet Orihata Aya had never been looked at that way before, so she was quite flustered.
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“Being alive means you have to come into contact with other people. No matter how hard you try, you will end up hurting some of those people. There’s nothing we can do about it. That’s just life,” Suema explained calmly. Her direct-yet gentle and soft-gaze made Aya feel like she was naked.
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"B-bu..."
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“I’d bet good money on you already having made yourself several enemies. And not just any enemies. I’m talking people who hate you so much that they want to kill you,” Suema said, the soft-ness of her tone contrasting with the harshness of her words.
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"............" Aya was floored. She could form no answer.
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Her mouth opened, but barely formed words. "Wh-what...do you...?"
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“That’s the way things are,” Suema said, answering without really answering. Yet it sounded awfiJlly convincing. She continued, “The very idea of living without being hated is detestable.
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You may not mean it that way, but trying to not be hated is like violating another’s right to hate you. See what I mean? You ’re the one hurting them,” she said, heatedly.
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"............" Aya simply stared back at her. Suema’s gaze never wavered.
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“Not to change the subject or anything, but have you ever heard of a writer named Kirima Seiichi?” Suema asked.
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“Huh?” Aya snapped out of it.
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Suema nodded, “Well, he’s a novelist, though, uh, I still haven’t gotten to actually reading any of his fiction stuff. Anyway, in one of his psychology books, he wrote: ‘There certainly is something out there. Something that makes people believe that they have to know their place in life. This knowledge gets in between people, and rocks the very foundations of this world.”’
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Suema spouted this quote off smoothly from memory. She thought it was perfectly normal, but her ability to produce things like this at the drop of a hat was one reason other people were so creeped out by her. She remained pretty oblivious to that, though. “‘ . . .If there is anything that gives value to human life, it is the struggle with that “something.” In the battle with the Imaginator that does your thinking for you- VS Imaginator is the starting line on which all humans must stand.’ Which is pretty hard to grasp, I know, but the point is, humans are all bound by the chains of common sense far more than we realize, and this is what makes us suffer.”
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"Chains...?"
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“Right. If we’re bound by something, we’ve got to cut ourselves loose; that’s what he’s going on about.” Suema spoke of this writer like most people do when using a friend as an example.
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"............"
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“I’m sure you have something you have to do, something that you can’t live without doing. I’m not gonna ask you what that is, but that boy who likes you. . .he doesn’t want you to be tying yourself into knots like this. That much I’m sure of.”
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“Yes,” Aya nodded, hooked on Suema’s words.
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Suema grinned. “This is gonna sound pretty pompous, but I really think you’re missing the concept of that ‘struggle.’ And you really need to get that.”
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“Yes...” she replied. But how could she get it?
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Aya just gritted her teeth. She knew this girl was right.
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“You can die after you fight. For now, let’s get down from here. You’re a new student, right?”
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“Yes, I am...”
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“Oh, no! The orientations have already started! We’d better hurry!”
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When we reached the ground, she turned to me and bowed.
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“Thank you. I don’t know if I can do anything, but I’m going to try,” she said.
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I was a little flustered. I’m not really the best person to be dispensing life counseling. I’m more of the type to receive it. Yet it seemed like something I said must’ve sunken in.
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“Yeah. . .sorry for rambling on like that,” I said, honestly.
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She shook her head. “No. . .um, sempai...?
✦ ✦ ✦
“Yes?”
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“If the one I have to fight is Boogiepop, then should I still fight?” she asked, deadly serious.
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Naturally, I replied, “Absolutely.” I knew nothing about her, but I was making sweeping declarations.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Thank you,” she said again, and turned and ran.
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Suddenly I realized something, and called after her, “What’s your name?”
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“Orihata Aya,” she said, stopping, and bowing once more.
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“Good luck, Orihata-san,” I waved.
✦ ✦ ✦
And for some reason, I had the strangest feeling that I would meet her again. I don’t know how I knew this, but the sharp pain in my chest said I would.
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VS Imaginator Part I - “SIGNS” closed.
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To be continued in Part II “PARADE”
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Afterword
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That Thing with the Pop and the Boogie
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There’s something called pop culture. It’s made up of novels, and manga, and movies, and games, and music, and just about anything else, really. Art? Nah, that’s a little, you know, too artsy. Frankly, pop culture is a bit better at rocking people emotionally than the better chunk of the so-called fine arts.
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The sole standard of judgment in pop culture is the ludicrously simple concept of “what sells wins,” which is nice and honest.
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Sells is sort of an “enh” term to me, so let’s say that it finds an audience. It’s a very pop culture thing to establish yourself by finding an audience. Which is true, and I tell people this, but I bet they’d say everything works that way, but in our world, there are things that are just so damn good no matter what other people say. And that sort of thing is not called pop culture. No, that’s known as a lost masterpiece, or a legendary performance, or by all sorts of other names. It’s not that these things aren’t great-they just aren’t pop.