CH 6 (1/2)

Bungaku Shoujo: Volume1 Chapter6

Chapter 6 - The Proposal of the Literature Girl

A few days had pa.s.sed after the incident.

Since the incident on the roof, I have not talked to nor seen Takeda-san again.

Yesterday, Kotobuki-san asked me “Your girlfriend hasn‟t been coming to the cla.s.sroom for a

while lately, did you two break up?” Kotobuki‟s face was red. She lowered her head and began

to wobble her body. She sounded like she was very worried.

“We weren‟t going out to begin with! Also, there is no need for her to consult with me anymore,

so she probably won‟t come ever again.”

“Those things don‟t matter; it‟s just…for the past few weeks…I may have said too

much…that…so…”

She lifted her face; when her eyes met with mine, she blushed even more.

“Nev-, never mind.”

She suddenly turned around and walked away slowly.

But as she was walking away, she suddenly stopped and ran back to me.

“So… that… I mean… just never mind!”

She shouted frantically, and then hurriedly walked away.

She was probably planning to apologize to me. Even though she might say something nasty from

time to time, she is probably not a bad person.

I still go to the Literature Club every single day. I would absentmindedly listen to Tookosenpai‟s

speeches on random life principles or book reviews, and write a 3 topic story as Tookosenpai‟s

snack.

“The topics for today are „staplers‟, „amus.e.m.e.nt park‟, and „lamb hot pot.‟ The time limit is 50

minutes, starting now!”

*Kachi*

Tooko-senpai rested her arms on the backrest of a chair and moved her upper body forward. She

pressed a b.u.t.ton on her silver watch to start the timer. Her shoes were off and she was sitting

with her knees bent on the chair. Her posture was once again inappropriate.

“What is „lamb hot pot‟?”

“You never heard of it? That‟s goat- a hot pot that is consisted of little lambs. On last night‟s TV

news report, the local business news section talked about a restaurant in Ginko. They sliced the

lamb meat into little thin~~~~~~~~ strips and quickly ran them through pots of boiling soup.

They don‟t have that funny goat meat taste at all. And they are so soft that if you eat them half

raw, they will melt on your tongue. The after meal desert was grape pudding, that looked very

tasty as well. After a meal of hot foods, when you eat something cool and sweet, that‟s the best.

So please write something that will melt in the mouth like the lamb hot pot and cool and sweet

like the pudding.”

“Could you stop making confusing comparisons? Gosh…you are too easily influenced by TV

and magazines. Furthermore, how do you link random things like „staplers‟, „amus.e.m.e.nt park‟,

and „lamb hot pot‟ together?”

“*That* *Is* where a chef can show off his skills! Hoho, I am looking forward to this.”

“You can write something for yourself from time to time.”

In response to that Tooko-senpai raised her index finger and seriously said,

“Konoha-kun, right now as your senpai, I am teaching you ways of life.”

“What‟s that?”

“Foods that are prepared by others taste ten times better than foods you make yourself.”

“Bulls.h.i.+t.”

“Also also, food that one prepares with a dedicated heart tastes a hundred times better! It‟s true!”

She was indirectly saying „so write with all your heart‟. She put her chin on the backrest, and

looked at me happily.

That‟s it. I decided to write the story about a lamb that, like a porcupine, had many staplers

hanging off its back. It got lost in an amus.e.m.e.nt part, tricked by a witch, and ended up in the

witch‟s lamb hotpot.

As my pen started to fly on the 50 pages of genkoo yos.h.i.+, Tooko-senpai stared at me.

“I can‟t write if you keep on staring at me. Go read a book please.”

“Okay, Mr. Chef.”

Just as she said, she turned around. As she swung her legs, she started to read the old books in

this room.

At this moment, only the scratching noise of a pen rubbing against papers, and the creaking noise

of turning book pages can be heard in this dusty enclosed room.

After a while, Tooko-senpai, with her back towards me, said,

“Hey Konoha-kun, what is Chia-chan doing now?”

My hand stopped momentarily.

However I didn‟t want her to know that I was rattled inside, so I resumed writing immediately.

“Who knows…it‟s not my business anymore.”

“But she hasn‟t given me the report yet!”

Tooko-senpai turned her head and looked at me.

“Konoha-kun, could you go to Chia-chan and retrieve the report for me?

I was speechless.

“What are you talking about?! I don‟t want to.”

“But, but, but, we promised. When the a.s.sistance ended she has to give me a report.”

“You will for sure get a stomach from eating that thing! I won‟t go! Absolutely won‟t go! If you

really want to eat that tainted thing, Tooko-senpai can go and get it herself.”

Tooko-senpai looked sad again.

d.a.m.n. I may have said too much.

“…Konoha-kun, Chia-chan did lie to you, but they weren‟t all lies; some of them were true,

right?

You never asked Chia-chan the reason behind her actions. Do you really want this to end like

this? When you wrote the love letters, didn‟t you wholeheartedly want to help her?”

“…”

I remained silent and continued on with the writing.

“I am done.”

I tore off 3 pages of the draft notepad and handed them to Tooko-senpai.

“Please finish them.”

My „staplers carrying lamb became ingredients for a hotpot‟ story must have tasted pretty bizarre.

Tooko-senpai, with tears in her eyes, tried to shove the 3 pages down her throat.

“Uu…nasty…uun. This is what I honestly think, wha-what a complex taste. Thi- this is really,

really bad…uun…delicious…delicious…truly….uu…if I convince myself it‟s delicious, it will

become delicious…uu….”

I just can‟t handle that person.

All those absurd stories that I wrote nonsensically, she actually swallowed them.

I think it was the spring of last year, when I first joined the literature club.

I intentionally wrote a story very badly. From start to end there was not a single punctuation, or

even a consistent story. She also half cryingly finished the whole story.

“Thank you for the meal. Let's see….punctuations are syntax symbols that are inserted into

phases to give the reader a chance to rest in between readings. While having too much

punctuation will fragment the pace of the story, it might be better to write an excess of them right

from the start. Also, perhaps it would be better to cut back on rhymes.”

Just like this, she idiotically gave me a serious review.

No matter how many times I wrote nonsensically, Tooko-senpai would still eat them. Then, on

the next day, she would come to my cla.s.s and say,

“It‟s time for the club, Konoha-kun.”

She would greet me with a smile.

Maybe she noticed that back then I locked myself in a sh.e.l.l and avoided interaction with other

people, and so she couldn‟t ignore me.

She may look very airheaded and sure of herself; a literature shoujo who is immersed in her own

world and one who neglects things surrounding her. In truth Tooko-senpai is a stickler to her

principles.

I stayed with her for a year already; perhaps her influence has a greater effect on me than I

thought.

On the following day after school, I came to the library to find Takeda-san.

“Whatever reasons made Takeda-san trick me, I don‟t care anymore. I came here only because

Tooko-senpai wouldn‟t stop talking about eating Takeda-san‟s report, so I have no choice but to

come tell her to hurry up.”

As I muttered to myself, I descended down the rusted spiral staircase that connects to the

bas.e.m.e.nt book storage room.

*Kan**Kan**Kan*

My footsteps were gradually consumed by the underground silence.

I walked down the last step and knocked on the door. An alerted voice answered me,

“Ye, yes.”

“…I am Inoue from the Literature Club.”

“Konoha-senpai! Ple,please wait a second!”

From inside the room I heard noises of books falling, something moving across, mouse squeaks,

and „Shu, go away‟ (to get rid of the mouse). After a moment of silence, Takeda-san finally

opened the door. She stuck her head out hesitantly.

“That…co, come in. I chased the mouse away. It should be…fine now.”

“…Thanks.”

I accepted her offer and went in.

The storage room was just the same as when I entered before. The smell of old paper permeated

the room. The room was both dark and dusty.

The lamp on the desk was like a street lamp on a long and deserted street. It gave out a dim light.

On the desk were an orange and red water bottle and a mug with a duck printed on it. Beside

them laid a metal biscuit box.

“…Tooko-senpai asked me to inquire you about the report.”

Takeda-san lowered her head.

“I am very sorry. I did try to write it, but when I read over everything…it won‟t do…I really

seem to lack talents in writing.

I didn‟t know what I should say in response, so I stayed quiet. Takeda-san kept her head low; her

body appeared to be shrinking as she continued-

“I lied to Konoha-senpai and Tooko-senpai, I am very sorry. I…I wanted to be a detective. Each

day of my life is so plain and boring…I thought that if I found someone I liked, I might be able

to change. If I went out with a boy, and forced myself to like him, then my life would be a bit

more enriched…but I remained an ugly duckling…I couldn‟t become a princess. At first I did

feel quite happy; but I became used to this, ah, this is just the same…

It was at that time that I found Shuuji‟s letter here.

After I read it my chest felt terrible, I even cried when I read.

I want to know more about this person.

I want to be closer to this person.

If I can do that, then maybe I can transform myself into someone different. Even someone like

me may have the chance to experience those dokidoki [TL note: SFX for heartbeat], fluttering,

exciting stories.

This…this was what I thought.”

“…It was you who cut out the portrait from the year book, wasn‟t it?”

“Yes. As I investigated and learned more about Shuuji-senpai, I became more fixated on finding

the truth behind Shuuji-senpai‟s suicide.

Everyday after school I would lock myself in this room, and imagined outrageous scenarios to

deduct what had happened. Doing so made me very cheerful- it almost felt as if I had become a

real detective.

If only I snapped out of it then…

When I saw Konoha-senpai handing out flyers to new students- you looked just like Shuujisenpai,

I was stunned.

And then, I had an idea.

If I could somehow arrange a meeting between Konoha-senpai and the alumni of the Archery

Club, I would be able to figure out who S was; and from that I would find the truth behind

Shuuji‟s death.”

For this, Takeda-san used Tooko-senpai‟s love advice mailbox to approach me, and completed

her goal.

„Shuuji-senpai is real! It‟s true!‟

Takeda-san did repeatedly a.s.sert that.

To Takeda-san, the person Shuuji Kataoka was not a mystic being who existed only in his letter;

he was a real person with blood and flesh.

Takeda-san deeply believed that.

Furthermore, Shuuji-senpai was a very important figure in Takeda-san‟s heart.

But now, Takeda-san looked very lonely.

“It was my idiotic behavior that got Konoha-senpai into a lot of trouble. I am very sorry. Other

than the newfound bitterness, nothing about me has changed.”

Takeda-san softly lifted up her duck mug.

“My best friend, who gave me this mug, died from a car accident two years ago. She, just like

Sakiko-san, got run over by a car-…”

That‟s why!

The reason why Takeda-san was so obsessed with Shuuji-senpai was perhaps because, just like

Shuuji-senpai, she also had someone who died from a car accident. Following that line of

thinking, I can understand a bit of what Takeda-san was feeling; my chest became a bit stuffed.

“…That girl was very strong, very optimistic about everything. She was also very smart, a leader

of our cla.s.s. Compared to me, she should the one who lead a wonderful life…”

Takeda-san‟s voice trailed off into an almost inaudible mutter.

Her eyes, which were staring at the mug, were now mixed with sorrow.

“Takeda-san…I think living a normal life is not bad! At least for myself, I am in favor of a

common life.”

“Right…”

Takeda-san smiled lonelily.

Then, she jerked her head up, and, in a sudden lively tone, she rapidly said-

“Do you know? Today is the 10 year anniversary of Shuuji‟s death. So I will…make myself a bit

of a final memory. But, I have to go now. Hiro-kun is waiting for me.”

Takeda-san started to clean up the stuff on her desk.

Even though she had a smile on her face, a hint of tears could be seen in her eyes. To prevent

those tears from coming out, she tried to open her eyes as much as possible, so her expression

appeared very unnatural.

Takeda-san picked up her personal belongings, turned to me, and with a laughing tone said to

me-

“I will be going then. I am very happy to have this talk with Konoha-senpai. Thank you for

coming to see me.”

“Takeda-san… it‟s best if you don‟t force yourself to write the report. It‟s not like it is a fun job.

Even if you do write it nothing would change, I think…”

In an instant, Takeda-san‟s face became a bit dazed. She blinked a few times and looked up. A

grin appeared on the side of her mouth.

“That‟s right…even if I did write it…it would be filled with tragic stories…nothing would

change…”

Even though she was just repeating what I had said, I felt a stabbing pain in my chest when I

heard that.

Ah, that‟s right. Even if the report was written, nothing would change.

Writing cannot save anyone.

Takeda-san softly said “Good bye.”

And gave me her final smile.

*KanKanKanKan*

In the sweetly scented book storage room, as she ascended the spiral staircase, I quietly listened

to her fading footsteps.

I suddenly remembered the raining scene where Takeda-san cried into my chest.

And then, I remembered the smile Takeda-san had when she was eating lunch with her boyfriend

at the courtyard.

Soeda-san and Rihoko-san chose to carry the burden of Shuuji Kataoka for the remainder of their

lives.

And Takeda-san can finally graduate from the memories of Shuuji-senpai.

After that, she and Hiro-kun will together live through peaceful and normal days.

I sincerely wished that Takeda-san could live happily ever after.

But it was only my wishful thinking.

Dazai, in his „Ningen s.h.i.+kkaku‟, said that the pa.s.sage of time is the cure, or the redemption, that

is bestowed upon everyone equally.

At that moment I was feeling a bit melancholic, so I decided to walk between the bookshelves

and absentmindedly browse through the t.i.tles of the stack.

I read that book…I haven‟t read that book…I only glanced through that book… In the dimly lit

room, all sorts of different t.i.tles flowed through my sight.

“Ah…”

When I saw that t.i.tle, I stopped.

“It‟s „Ningen s.h.i.+kkaku‟…”

It was probably this particular book that contained Shuuji-senpai‟s letters.

I extended my index finger and tried to pull the book out. The book was stored in a box cover;

the faded yellow cover was dotted with tea color dots.

“Uuh, the book is stuck.”

I couldn‟t pull out the book.

“…Hm, is something sticking to the book...? Wah!”

Under my intense pull, the book and a notebook-like object flew out and fell onto the ground.

*ba**saa*

By reflex I bent down to pick up the book, and something came into my eyes. I was startled.

A small piece of photograph was on the floor. The photo, which seemed to have been cut out by

a pair of scissors, had a boy in it. The boy, with his nearly identical face, stared back at me.

Right beside the photo was a notebook with a duck printed on its cover.

For whatever reason, it was almost as if someone intentionally hid the notebook here.

Moreover, it was hidden in that „Ningen s.h.i.+kkaku‟.

This is just likeI

suddenly felt a sinking feeling in my chest.

I picked up the notebook off the ground, and I hurriedly read over the tiny lettered articles.

When I saw the first line of the notebook, I felt as if I was falling head first into the abyss.

I forced myself to go on; I restrained myself until I reached and finished the last page.

Immediately I cursed at my own stupidity, slammed the notebook shut, and dashed out of the

door.

◇ ◇ ◇

Mine has been a life of much shame.

The first time I noticed my deviancy was when my grandmother, who treasured me very

much, pa.s.sed away from this world.

I remember after my grandmother had a heart attack, she had to stay on her bad all the

time. Whenever I came near her bed to visit her, she would always gently stroke my head

and say, “You are such a good child.” She would look pleased. Her eyes would form two

tiny lines as she smiled.

But I was not what my grandmother thought I was- an obedient and empathic child. Her

scrawny hands, her shriveled up face, her muddle white hair, and the disgusting medicine

stench emitted from her body, all these revolted and horrified me to no end.

“You are such a good child.”

Every time she used that coa.r.s.e voice to whisper to my ears, I would feel like she had laid a

jinx on me. My neck would become stiff, my body would shudder.

If grandmother finds out I am not a good child; if she finds out that I loathe her- no doubt

she would stand straight up from her bed. Her white hair would stand on their ends like a

yashya, red flames would come out of her hazes, and that would swallow me alive. I was

really frightened by these thoughts, so dreaded that I would lie in bed at night, eyes wide

open, and cold sweat coming off my back.

As I grew older, I became more and more aware that the difference and the gap between

how I thought and how others thought was increasing. Things that saddened or pleased

others, I did not feel anything. Not even a tiny bit of these events resonated with my

emotion.

Why do others feel happy?

Why do others feel sad?

During track and field compet.i.tions or ball games, when everyone excitedly cheered for

their teams; or a cla.s.smate was about to transfer schools, when everyone sadly said

farewell to the cla.s.smate, I would be like a linguistically challenged foreigner. I stood

among others, and I felt unease spreading throughout my body. I would wane my body

posture. My stomach would start to twist itself. Other people are talking non-stop, yet I

know nothing of what they say.

Why? Why is everyone crying? Ah, I really don‟t understand. But, if only I appeared

emotionless when everyone else was crying, others would find it strange, so I must make

myself cry. But my face is so stiff that it is impossible. My face started to blush again. If

others noticed I am only faking my sadness, what should I do? I cannot lift my head, not

now. So I lowered my head even further, and put on a melancholic expression. Ah, this

time everyone is laughing together. What is so funny about it? I really don‟t know. But, if I

don‟t have the same reaction as others, they will label me as a queer, and I would have no

friends.

Now is the time to laugh. I must laugh, and laugh. No, let‟s cry, and cry. No, the reaction

for this should be laughter, I must react with laughter.

In front of my parents, teachers, and cla.s.smates, I struggled to act and react politely. I

acted goofily, just to make others like me. Ah, I sincerely hope that no one will ever find out

that I am a monster who lacks a human heart. I hope I can camouflage myself into a mere

silly and idiotic clown, just to make others laugh with me, pity me, forgive me. And this can

go on forever and ever and so will I.

Until I entered high school, until I met S, I never realized I was merely a clown.

◇ ◇ ◇

As I panted from the dash, I climbed up the staircase that lead to the roof.

The third hand note wasn‟t written by Shuuji Kataoka; it was written by Takeda-san.

How could I be so foolish?

I have always used my shallow, naive common sense to view the girl Chia Takeda.

Why was Takeda-san so determined to find S?

Why was Takeda-san obsessed with Shuuji Kataoka‟s death?

My imagination was too lacking.

Takeda-san, her round face, her lively eyes, her childlike behavior, her cheerful smile, her

puppy-like pureness, her naivety, her outgoing personality- all I saw was only the surface.

I never once suspected that they were all acts by Takeda-san-!

◇ ◇ ◇

Let‟s talk about S!

S was the person that understood me best. She was my sworn enemy and my good friend.

She was my other half and my opposing self.

With her fearful intelligence, she saw through my everything.

All the clowns‟ tricks I did to make others think I was perfect, they completely failed on S.

So, I was terrified of her.

Because I was terrified of her, I couldn‟t escape from her side.

In the cla.s.sroom, in the club, I was always at S‟s side.

I felt S‟s eyes were of divine judgement. My constant fear and shame made me tremble and

sweat.

The world is h.e.l.l.

And I am S‟s slave.

On my 14th birthday, S gave me a mug, one that had a duck printed on it.

S said the duck looked as dense as I did.

When I replied with a „hehehe‟, S looked straight at me and asked do I really want to

continue on living like this.

I became afraid.

I am just a monster disguised as a duck; this antagonized S very much.

I tried to s.h.i.+ft S‟s attention to other things. I put on an exaggerated expression and told a

few jokes.

But S didn‟t laugh; she angrily said- “Fine, be that way, be a dumb duck forever then” and

stormed off.

I chased after S.

If S abandoned me, She would tell everyone what a monster I was!

If I don‟t make S cheer up…

If I don‟t pull S back…

If I let S leave like that, I may just as well die-!

When I came to this conclusion, I intentionally tripped on the street.

Surprised, S turned her head to me. She frowned as if she gave up, and ran toward me.

Just as I eased up, a car came out of nowhere; it crashed into S‟s fragile body and pushed

her away. Her body slammed onto the ground, and remained there, motionless.

The girl s.h.i.+zuka Saitou had died by the hands of the monster known as Chia Takeda.

On that day, the soft flesh was crushed. From it the sweet and sour scent of red blood

spread out on the pitch black asphalt road. I, with my hollow heart, stared at the scene.

I, killed, a person.

Perhaps even G.o.d does not want to save me.

◇ ◇ ◇

„I am really common.‟

„Even though I finished „Ningen s.h.i.+kkaku‟, I am still unable to comprehend the story.‟

„I am really common, and my I am not smart, I am useless. Dazai Osamu and Shuuji-senpai‟s

yearning for death, even if I spend my life thinking about why, I still won‟t understand. I read

„Ningen s.h.i.+kkaku‟ from front to back 5 times, yet I still don‟t understand…so at the end, all I

could do was cry.‟

What were Takeda-san‟s true feelings when she said she couldn‟t understand „Ningen

s.h.i.+kkaku‟?

„So at the end, all I could do was cry.‟

What emotion ran through Takeda‟s head when she cried?

„This is-too strange. He rants too much. There is no point in living so painfully.‟

What was in her heart when she said those hurtful words?

◇ ◇ ◇

I said to that boy, yeah we can try going out.

That boy, just like a little puppy, shows an innocent smile.

He has complete untainted trust in me. He entrusts his everything to me.

He is just a naive, pure, kind hearted, positive, the blessed and beloved white goat of G.o.d.

A boy like him, makes me filled with jealous and despise. At the same time, I couldn‟t stop

my longings for his pureness.

Perhaps, maybe, just maybe, this child, can change my being.

People often say love can change a person.

Perhaps this boy can save me from my destruction.

Maybe from now on, I will no longer be a loveless, apathetic monster. I will become a real

human.

Ah, I really want to be someone like that.

A burning hot steam rose up in my chest; I fervently prayed for that.

Fall in love with the boy.

Even though the love is fake at first, it might turn into the real thing one day.

◇ ◇ ◇

The words that Takeda-san said to me, now that I look at them in another context, stood for