I Risked My Life To Save The Cheeky Girl, And As A Result, I Lost My Right Arm. - Chapter 18.1: Anguished Cry. 1

Anguished Cry. 1

…What should I do?

It’s as if I’ve been cursed, and the cruel words that old man said to me keep echoing in my head.

“You idiot! A disabled person like you shouldn’t even be riding the bus!”

“You’re a nuisance! Someone who can’t even grab the handrail properly shouldn’t be on the bus! Buses are for people with two arms!”

Every time I remember, my heart races. And then, it’s as if my heart is being crushed, squeezed tightly with all my might.

What the lady who defended me said is true; I know these words don’t matter. They’re just meaningless insults I should brush off. But my heart doesn’t allow it.

It’s like a small stone blocks a river flowing cleanly, causing it to halt and become dirty, unable to flow downstream. That’s what it feels like.

(I am… a nuisance. I’m a nuisance…)

That’s right, I only have one arm. I can’t live a normal life anymore. The handicap of not having an arm will follow me forever. It will never end until the day I die.

Because of this arm, I’m a burden to the people around me. Just by being alive, I have to rely on others for help.

(Everyone… they don’t say it, but maybe they don’t really want to take care of me.)

Maybe deep down, they see me as a nuisance, just like that old man. Maybe they think I’m a bother.

Maybe they’re tired of constantly having to be considerate of me.

How many people have I relied on so far? How many people have I had to depend on?

I’ve had people hold things for me, write for me, wait while I take longer to do things because of my one arm…

If I had both arms, these tasks wouldn’t be necessary.

…Then, maybe I should just die right now.

If I’m gone, Dad and Mom won’t have to work hard to earn money just to raise someone like me.

If I’m gone, Kurasaki-san won’t have to worry about me anymore.

If I’m gone, Hasegawa… won’t have to suffer anymore.

Yeah, that’s right.

If I die, Hasegawa can be free.

It’s because I’m alive halfway that she has to take care of me.

Honestly, what’s this about wanting Hasegawa to smile? It’s because I’m here that Hasegawa can’t smile. I’m nothing but a burden to her.

I’m a piece of shit. Selfish, the lowest kind of scum.

I’m just a hypocrite wallowing in self-satisfaction.

I should just die already… I’m a curse.

“…Senpai?”

Hasegawa, sitting to my right, called out to me, and I snapped out of my thoughts.

During lunch break, I had come to the rooftop with Hasegawa as usual, and we were eating our bento when she noticed me lost in thought, my chopsticks frozen in place.

“Senpai, are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s nothing.”

I said that, forcing a smile.

Actually, I hadn’t told anyone about the old man’s verbal abuse. Because telling someone wouldn’t solve anything, and it would just cause them unnecessary worry.

Especially Hasegawa—I didn’t want to tell her. If I did, she would surely blame herself, thinking it was her fault for distancing herself from me.

So, I decided not to say anything. There was no need to.

I didn’t want to trouble anyone, especially her.

“But Senpai, you seem different. You’re not as lively as usual…”

“I’m really fine… I’m sorry for making you worry over someone like me.”

“….”

Hasegawa wore an uneasy expression but didn’t ask anything further. Instead, we ate our lunch in silence.

After finishing my meal, I sighed and looked up at the sky.

“…Huh? Senpai?”

“….”

“Aren’t you going to see Kurasaki-senpai today? You’re usually at the library getting help from her…”

“Ah, today… I kind of turned her down.”

“Turned her down?”

“Yeah, I just felt like… I needed a little alone time, you know?”

“Eh…?”

“…Hasegawa, you can head back to the classroom. I’m sorry for always making you come all the way to the rooftop just for me.”

“…Senpai.”

“I’ll stay up here on my own for a while…”

“….”

“Well, then…”

“Senpai, is there really nothing wrong?”

“….”

“I… did I… do something to upset you? Did I do something mean to you, like last time?”

…Hasegawa’s voice was trembling.

Her fear and anxiety manifested physically, and it reached my right ear clearly.

“…Don’t worry. Hasegawa, you didn’t do anything wrong. You really don’t need to worry.”

“But…”

“…”

“But… distancing myself from you…”

“It’s fine, really, it’s fine…”

“…”

And with that, I stopped talking.

Hasegawa hesitated for a while, but eventually, she understood my feelings and quietly left the scene.

Whooosh…

The cold wind stirred my hair and uniform. I lowered my face, hugged my knees, and buried my face in them.

(Should I just go far away with this wind…?)

I thought that in the back of my mind, closing my eyes softly.

The sound of the wind was the only thing I could hear, like a soft whistle.

…Lunch break ended, and the fifth-period art class began. Our teacher, Murakami-sensei, stood in front of the blackboard in the art room, adjusting his glasses before announcing to us.

“We’ll be handing out a piece of drawing paper to each of you. Please draw whatever you like on it.”

Murakami-sensei turned around, grabbed some chalk, and wrote the words “Your True Self” on the blackboard.

“Today’s fifth and sixth periods are the last art classes of the second year. Please feel free to express your true self through your drawings. The completed artworks will be displayed in this art room for a while.”

With that, the teacher handed out a piece of drawing paper and a small mirror to each of us. Each student began drawing with their paints or colored pencils, creating whatever they liked.

“Whoa! Your drawing is terrible!”

“Come on, you don’t get it! This is modern art, you know?”

“Hey, Miki! Do you have orange paint?”

“Yeah! Want to borrow it?”

Amid the noisy chatter in the art room, I sat alone, frozen, still holding my pencil. The white paper in front of me remained completely blank. I’d drawn a few lines with my pencil, but each time I didn’t like it, so I erased it, and more eraser shavings piled up.

I couldn’t get the pencil to move the way I wanted, and each time it frustrated me more. I clicked my tongue in annoyance, again and again.

“Ah, damn it!”

When I erased everything for the seventh time, the frustration in my chest turned into words.

Switching between the pencil and eraser so many times had made my left arm tired. As time passed, my mood worsened, and I felt more deflated.

“Ah…”

Ka-chan… chiri-ri-ri…

While erasing the drawing, the back of my hand hit the pencil, sending it rolling across the floor.

Reaching the peak of my irritation, I sighed, “Ha…” and stood up to leave.

“…”

But then, someone picked up the pencil for me. It was Kurasaki-san.

“Is this yours, Nakamura-kun?”

She showed me the pencil. I nodded and said, “Sorry, thanks,” quietly.

Seeing her face helped me regain a little composure. I exhaled softly, relaxing my tense shoulders.

“Oh, right. Kurasaki-san…”

“What is it?”

“About today… I’m sorry. I know you invited me to lunch, but…”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m always available, so just call me when you feel like it.”

“Yeah…”

While talking to Kurasaki-san, I kept my eyes on the tip of her nose instead of looking her in the eye. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact at that moment.

“How could someone with two arms understand how I feel?!”

That was the guilt I felt from harshly insulting someone back then…

“I’ll always be by your side.”

I couldn’t believe Kurasaki-san would say something like that, and it made me feel embarrassed.

“Nakamura-kun, what are you drawing now?”

“Huh? Ah, well… nothing yet, really.”

“I see, drawing can be tough. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“It’s fine, I can do it alone.”

“Okay, understood. If you ever need help, just let me know.”

“…Yeah.”

With that, she returned to her seat.

“……..”

I took a deep breath and turned my attention back to the blank paper.

I wasn’t really good at drawing. And when it came to what I liked, I couldn’t think of anything that I was particularly passionate about. Being asked to express “my true self” felt pointless because I didn’t even know what that was.

I didn’t know what to draw, and time just kept passing by.

Sigh… “This is a pain. Maybe I’ll just copy someone else’s drawing. After all, what’s the point of trying when I’ve only got one arm? I’m not going to make a good drawing anyway…”

As I started to lose hope, the teacher walked around, looking over the other students’ drawings.

“Oh, very nice. The blue of the sky is really beautiful.”

The teacher stood beside a girl, smiling as he complimented her.

“I really like blue, so I made the sky with lots of it!”

“Looks great. Keep creating freely, and express your own beauty.”

“……..”

Hearing that exchange, something about the teacher’s words bothered me.

“Express your own beauty.” Under normal circumstances, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it. It seemed like a common, nothing-special phrase.

“……..”

But at that moment, those words made me angry.

Telling me to express my “own beauty” felt, in a way, like being told to only draw beautiful things—nothing else.

I had already been irritated, and perhaps that twisted my mindset. Normally, I wouldn’t think this way, but for some reason, at that moment, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the words were a form of subtle criticism.

(…I’m not beautiful)

My hand gripping the pencil tightened into a fist.

Then, I began drawing lines on the paper.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it…”

As I clicked my tongue at the wavering hand, I started drawing with just the pencil.

It was a human face.

The outline was messy, and there was no color. It was an eerie, bizarre, and ugly face of a person. A face glaring at me with a furious expression.

Yeah, that’s right.

This is my face.

The face of someone disgracefully tainted.

“You idiot! A disabled person like you shouldn’t even be riding the bus!”

“You’re a nuisance! Someone who can’t even grab the handrail properly shouldn’t be on the bus! Buses are for people with two arms!”