/jp/ - Otaku Culture

(2/6)
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Like when Komachi-san severed my fingers, the pain spread throughout my face and shook my brain, followed by me sliding on the gravel and getting nasty scratches all over.

Being a ghost hurts…

I turn to lie on my back, groaning in pain and tears as I stare at the great moon once more, not a drop of hakutaku power coursing through my veins—but there is no time for reflection as Komachi-san's voice hits me. “That's it?! After saying those words, struggling like a fish biting a hook—that’s it?!” Something in her angry tone yells… passion. Not like the one shared in bed, but of someone screaming at the pages of a book. What the hell? “Just because you don't have your crazy powers anymore, you're giving up? You plucked my eye off, you jerk!” She points two hands at her face, her movements erratic before she crouches to pick up her scythe. All I can do is watch in bewilderment. “Do you know what I hate more than people who think they deserve more than others?” She gets up and turns to me, her eyes wide and I swear I hear her heart racing after that rhetorical question. Her next words, though, are tinged with uncomfortable embarrassment: “… Sympathetic fools like you, Kamishirasawa.”

… W-What…?

She stomps up to me, groaning and scratching her nape, and picks me up off the ground with ease, placing me on my feet, and I watch in disbelief as she brushes some dust from my hair. “Don't look at me like that—how'd you feel if your job were to take the dead from place to place, widening or shortening the Sanzu to match their sins? Do you think you'd be desensitized…?” Her cheeks redden. “W-Well, yeah, kinda, but I never managed to. Other shinigamis tell me I'm too carefree towards my duty and get too invested easily… It is a tough job; do not blame me—so thank your lucky stars, Kamishirasawa; the others would have already thrown your ass across the Sanzu.” Finally, she takes a step back and… smiles at what she sees. “I hate seeing people like you hopeless or giving up; you shouldn't be taking regrets with you to your only true rest.”

The headache of being punched in the face starts to fade away, rational mind coming to the forefront as my heart still wept, her words intoxicating me with anger from deep below; a kinder part of myself—the one that didn't claim Anon the night I chose the path of strife—cheered at her words. “I did all I could already! What else can I do?” I look at the massive moon above, hopelessness echoing. “Eiki is coming here, didn't you say? You'll ferry me through the Sanzu soon enough too… What else can I do?” Her eyes focus on me; pupils moving around and reflecting my face. I look terrible, blood coating my nose and making breathing a struggle, eyes moving to the infinite Sanzu behind her…

Yet…

Surprisingly, amidst the remnants of a once-strong figure—mother, teacher and partner—who fought to bring hope and carried the responsibilities of so many futures...

“I don't know! I'm not supposed to deal with your problems; I'm just invested in them!” It's not personally weird to see someone big like her red in the cheeks; reminds me of Mokou, our time together—that gentle giant holding two precious, frail babies.

… I saw in her eyes a gleam of life.

The apple seed that was Komachi-san's words grows incredibly fast inside, a seed of hope as my mind, disregarding the notion that all is over, continues to think of things I can do; pathways I can take—so many dead ends, my brain hurting from thinking so much…

Yet it keeps on working, searching for a way out.

Heat ran through my veins and lit my body with adrenaline that, ferociously, fought the desolation like it fought the terror of that night of demons.

So what if there's no hope in sight, if there's no way out? If history itself has already been written?!

… When did any of that stop me?

Facade to cope with my failure or not, the fire was lit again and it was impossible to take it out. Clarity brought forth the best of my mind and, despite the blood that seeped into the bandages and the pounding of my brain, I began considering all my options, time limit—Eiki—giving urgency to each thought. It’s unlikely I can just ask Komachi how I resurrected the first time, either.

During all of that, Komachi-san continued speaking, her investment in my future warming my body—she has a great heart~—her words this very angry tirade about how close I was to giving up and, surprisingly, ideas—all of which I had already considered, but still astounding—before devolving into babbling about how much of a dumbass I am for not coming up with a plan already…

Mostly useless.

Mostly. “—c'mon; think harder, Kamishirasawa! You don't have those broken powers since you resurrected—yet, somehow, you built a revolution! Just think of something!”

… Wait, what?

“What do you mean I didn't have my powers…?” I asked, frowning.

Komachi-san looks puzzled and, as she's about to answer, a commanding voice joins, stopping her dead in her tracks. “Enough, Onozuka-san.”

there's only one best and she's the love of my life

komachi is my wife, what does it mean?
someone once told me it's only because she has big boobs and I got really upset about it, and I've never masturbated to the reams and reams of porn