“Uh, Mugino?” said Akira. “What gives?”
It was only then that I realized I’d stopped dead in my tracks. Akira walked back over and sized me up with a puzzled look on her face.
“You wanna take five real quick?” she asked.
“No, I’m not tired or anything,” I said. “I just…had a bit of a realization, that’s all.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like something pretty important.”
I nodded, and Akira’s expression went stern. “Well, whaddya waiting for? Just tell me, already.”
“…Yeah, okay.”
To be honest, I really wasn’t looking forward to unearthing these old memories again. But if it was related to our current predicament, like I suspected, then she had a right to know. As I tried to put my thoughts in order, I started moving forward again, and Akira followed suit—matching my pace as we walked side by side down the road.
“So the thing is…this might not be my first timefreeze.”
The story I’m about to tell you happened back when I was in eighth grade—and apologies in advance if some of the details are a little fuzzy. I don’t have many fond memories of my time in junior high, to be honest, so I think I sort of blocked that whole period out. Which might be why it took me so long to realize this, but yeah.
Basically, there were these two classmates I had back then who I just really, genuinely wished would either die or disappear. Even now, I can’t look back on that part of my life without feeling pretty damn salty toward those two, and it drives home that I’m still not over the whole situation, deep down. You ever notice that? How positive emotions always feel so fleeting, but things like anger or depression or embarrassment or regret seem to linger vividly in your mind for a really long time? And no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to forget or move on from them? Kind of how I feel about it.
Anyway, there was this one day after school when those two shoved me into the classroom broom closet and then closed the door. Warned me not to come out until they gave me permission to, so like an idiot, I just did as they said and waited there in the dark. Didn’t even think of trying to break my way out, because I knew from past experience with them that they’d only do even worse if I disobeyed. So I just completely dissociated for a while and tried to wait it out—but obviously, everyone has their limits. And eventually, I couldn’t bear to be trapped in the dark any longer, so I creaked open the door.
There was no one left in the classroom. It was just me and the light of the setting sun pouring in through the window. I remember the evening glow that night very clearly; it was probably the most bloodred sun I’d ever seen. And I also remember that the very first thing I did was let out a sigh of relief. I was just so glad to see that they hadn’t been sitting there waiting for me to emerge the entire time. But just as I walked back to my desk to gather my things and go home, I felt a sudden pain in my chest. One that hurt so bad, I couldn’t even remain standing, so I just fell right to my knees on the classroom floor.
…And no, I wasn’t physically ill or anything like that.
I was livid. Completely in distress. Not even because of them—this wasn’t anything compared to the worst stuff they’d done to me. No, above all else, I was just furious with myself for feeling relieved. Like I got off easy by being left to cower in fear in the broom closet for over an hour, and I hadn’t been tortured any worse than that.
Don’t get me wrong, I still detested those two. Cursed their names and wished they’d never been born. But as I slowly began to realize what a pathetic, worthless wretch I was by comparison, my self-loathing grew to outweigh my hatred. I started wishing that I could be the one to disappear—because what good would getting rid of them do, when I was the one who lacked the strength or even the courage to try to change my reality? I felt broken, crushed beneath the weight of my own worthlessness.
But then the next thing I knew.
I was back in my bedroom, clutching a metal bat in one hand.
And the bloodred sun out the window had still only just begun to set.
“Huh?” Akira turned to face me as though she was certain she must’ve misheard this last part. But my story wasn’t quite over yet.
“So yeah,” I continued. “As you can probably imagine, I totally freaked out. I mean, I was at school one minute, then back in my bedroom the next. And I didn’t know where the hell I’d gotten the metal bat either. I started feeling pretty scared, so I ran outside and threw the bat away in a nearby dumpster, then hurried back to my house. During homeroom the next day, the teacher announced that the two boys had both suffered pretty serious leg injuries—both at the same exact time, but in two completely different places. Apparently there were signs that they’d both been beaten repeatedly with a blunt object, with one of them actually having suffered multiple fractures… Well, according to the rumors I heard going around class, at least.”
“So, what you’re saying is…” Akira began, then swallowed hard.
I kept my eyes trained firmly on the road ahead and said, “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I was the one who did it.”
For a time, silence reigned.