You were so cool—I didn't know what to say to that, so I masked my speechlessness by fetching the lunchbox from my bag. It was a little on the large side since I’d borrowed Father’s. It didn't fit in Tateha's small palm. "Thanks, Ruri-chan. You're something else. Who would’ve thought a beauty like you would be good at sports and at cooking, eeeeh?" A beauty? Me...? I put a hand on my cheek and felt my bone structure.

Originally published as Fukagyakusei kagyaku (lit. Irreversible Brutality) on Kakuyomu by Nomi Hata from November 2024-February 2025. (General CWs: Extreme bullying, blackmail, pain kink; Story als…

Without fully comprehending what I was doing, I cupped her ear in my hand. She smiled sweetly as I touched it, like a cat being pet. She pulled her hands up to her chest when I started to set up the piercer. I could tell how nervous she was.

I wondered what kind of reaction Tateha would have to a bento I made. I could picture her looking grateful, happy, and laughing, but not much else. I stared up at the kitchen vent fan, which reminded me of a line graph that didn't deviate from the trend.

But that wasn't it. I am a sinner, and my entire life needed to be spent in atonement to the girl before of me. What happens from now on is just picking up from where that day left off. I had to make Tateha's face twist in pain.

After all, her requests definitely required courage. Saying something that reveals your inner self to another person is as embarrassing as you'd expect. It’s no different from confessing to someone you like. I wasn't so shocked that I could disregard that.

If we assume a murderer we saw on the news is evil, the good person in that situation was the one who stopped the murders, right? Or was it the person who reported the crime? Or maybe, the person who lectures 'murder is bad!' from a safe distance was the good person? That might be a bold, crass example, but the difference between what is considered good or evil is that huge.

The demonic self that dumped water on you, stabbed you with a pencil, burned your open wounds, and rolled on the floor cackling about it all, I killed her.

"It's not possible, Ruri-chan. You're mistaken. You see, people can't change like that." I gently embraced that hand of hers. "See, I tried to change, too. Until today, I lived thinking I needed to fix this love of pain, since it's strange. But, you see, it was impossible to fix. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't find anything that brought me happiness, except pain."

I knew that was what Ruri-chan feared most. How would she feel if she knew that too, I wondered. Angry? Bitter? Or maybe the old Ruri-chan would show up for me again. She would, I was sure. After all, for as much as she thought she had changed, human warmth didn't pass through the mask she had plastered on.

She was obviously avoiding me, though. Actually, it was more like she was scared of me. We could talk to one another, but it was clear there was a wall between us somewhere. Despite that, she'd stare at me from a distance when I was chatting with someone in class. No. Monitoring me, perhaps, waiting to see when I would drop the bomb.

Happiness takes many forms; its shape depends on the animal, depends on the person. Looking forward to decay shouldn't raise any objections. After all, every animal survives through the death of others. I patiently waited for the moment fledglings left the nest in search of new experiences, only to fall to earth.

Her technique was to never ease up, no matter how much I suffered, screamed, and cried. That tempestuous, merciless assault was lovely. I wanted more from her. I wanted her to teach me all sorts of pain. No other girl could. Only Ruri-chan could deliver satisfaction.

The sounds of my burbling and thrashing mixed with the three voices of Ruri-chan and her toadies. Their muffled voices sounded like the wails of the damned, straight from the depths of hell. I see, this must be hell. I must be about to die.