/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>45263950
she is NOT sus! S-stop that!

>>45050505
(5/5—p1)
—
Ms. Reimu returned the scarf, and even though she was smiling before she left, I, Chen—…—felt hollow. Such feeling followed me even here, Mr. Anon by my side with his own set of needles, expertly putting together heavier clothes for the incoming winter—as of now he was knitting Ran a purple and yellow sweater, and each thread had so much thought behind it, so much love…

I looked at the skeins on my lap, already halfway used, and the handmade needles I use to put together a formless piece of red-white clothing.

"I know it's bad etiquette to ask—but what are you knitting? These patterns are… weirdly depressing." His voice was sudden and close, and I jumped back slightly with the proximity. Mr. Anon looked with curiosity at the section I knitted yesterday: heavy, tense, and quite sad, like a blanket—one you could cry beneath. I don't know why that was my the best example… "Chen? Are you feeling well?"

I thought about lying, about hiding…

"… Mr. Anon, can I ask something?" His knitting stopped as he gave me his full attention, the wind of late autumn blowing and making me shiver, the wind chimes singing a tenuous choir, my heart heavy. This would make him mad, right? It may make him sad, too—but I don't want to hide! It'll just make things worse… I don't want people around me to get hurt. I gulp down a wall of ice, my ears drop, and I utter, "What was your… wife, Reimu, like?"

The wind chimes go silent. It's as if the world is holding its breath as I watch his face change: confusion, pain, suffering, fear, and, as he looks away from me and takes deep breaths… longing.

"Reimu, huh…?" He then laughs a bit, turning back to me, and I see the longing fading away in a sea of hurt. "Why the curiosity?" I shudder, red, and Mr. Anon's eyes narrow with puzzlement, but whatever connections he might've made are simply brushed aside. "Well… Before we married, Reimu was the woman of my dreams. I felt lucky for every second by her side, and making her happy made me happy—it was even funny: one simple day I awoke, made breakfast, got ready for the day, looked at myself in the mirror and, for no motive, thought: 'I want to marry Reimu'. It came so out of left field that I started laughing… Sometime later, we were engaged." I had a silly smile plastered on my face, the story of budding love making me feel all warm inside…

Then his smile faded.

"However, as time passed, she changed. She was straightforward and blunt before; it was endearing… But then she became possessive, manipulative, cynical, a-and—violent. It was like the Reimu I knew and dedicated myself to was suddenly replaced…" The calm front of Mr. Anon suddenly morphed into one more akin to that of a rat scared for its life.

Bile rose up my throat; I wasn't much better either as Reimu’s stare of pure rage popped into my mind like wildfire.

It always confused me this one detail about Mr. Anon: most humans are weak and can't seriously fight against a Youkai, yet Mr. Anon had many, many scars—he, a peaceful, kind man…

He doesn't seek fights. Then, how?

… The answer made my hands holding the needles—unconsciously knitting the halfway-done piece—tremble like crazy.

"It got better, for a time, when my daughter was born, but it didn't last much… I loved Reimu, I truly did, but with each beating, each dissatisfaction with the best I could do, and each—" He held his tongue, but the pain of an unnamed offense rang louder than the others. I was crying, chin shivering, my eyes big. He noticed, his brows creasing as he put his needles to the side and rushed to hug me. I hugged back, nails sinking into his back as if to escape this sick reality. "Oh, Chen, sorry, I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to make you cry… It was too much for you; I should've known better." He isn't crying, but his hands quivering—steady hands that taught me knitting—just make me feel nauseous.

That woman of yesterday, who hugged me and calmed me down, who smiled and spoke with wisdom about her vague past, about her sins…

… Sins directed at her own family—at the people she should've loved and cherished above everything else!

How could she? How?! Just the thought of harming this man fills me with unbridled rage, and I feel sick that my scarf was around her neck once…

Yet, as my tears pour down and his hug tightens, I can't hope but have Yukari returning to my mind, someone I love so much but who has committed so many cruel crimes and mistakes and will be punished, so she can return to being that loving woman I can hug with no issue—a question, however, persists: 'why?'

I remember Reimu's confession about destroying everything she loved; the pain in her eyes; the bad omens that sent shivers down my spine—Yukari's cold, distant gaze…

… Reimu is trying to change, make up for her outrageous sins—seeking forgiveness…

But…

“… You miss her?” The question is like sweet poison.

What is Yukari doing?

“… I do.” It sounded guilty.

I cry louder, and Mr. Anon’s embrace never falters.