I Risked My Life To Save The Cheeky Girl, And As A Result, I Lost My Right Arm.

Anguished Cry. —2

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

What the hell, why do I have to… why should I be told that?

Why do I have to be insulted…?!

I helped Hasegawa…! I should be praised or sympathized with, not insulted!

“Ugh…! Grr…!”

My teeth grind, biting down so hard it hurts.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.

As if the pencil had never stopped, it moves violently across the paper.

The pressure increases with every stroke, as if the paper might tear.

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.

“Hey! Driver! Stop the bus! Get this idiot off right now! Damn these young people, they can’t even think about how they’re disturbing others!”

Dammit, old man…

Dammit, you old fool…

You old fool!! You old fool!! You old fool!!

You…!! One day, I’ll kill you!! I’ll cut off your right arm, just like mine, and force-feed you the flesh!!

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.

You have no idea what I’m going through!! You have no idea what it’s like to live this way!! Don’t act like you know!!

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!! What am I supposed to do now? Why do I have to suffer like this? Screw this!! You idiot!! You idiot!! You idiot!!

What did I do wrong? What was I supposed to do back then? Should I have just let Hasegawa die? Should I have ignored her when she was about to be hit in front of me?! Huh!! Somebody tell me!!

Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!! I’ll kill them all!! That old man who insulted me!! The drunk guy who ran me over!! And anyone who tries to hurt me from now on!! I’ll kill them all!!

I’ll kill them!! I’ll kill them!! I’ll kill them!! I’ll kill them!! I’ll kill them!!

I’ll kill them…!!!

“…Nakamura-kun, are you okay?”

The teacher’s voice snapped me back to reality.

My left hand was soaked with sweat, as if I had been running at full speed. My breathing was ragged, and I puffed out air, trying to calm myself.

My whole body was shaking. The explosion of emotions from deep inside was spilling out.

My classmates all turned their gaze toward me. Some looked at me with concern, others furrowed their brows in confusion, each with a different reaction.

“…Sorry.”

I answered a little bluntly and then picked up the drawing I had finished, handing it to the teacher.

“Sensei, it’s finished.”

“Huh?”

“This is my work.”

“…………”

The teacher took my drawing and immediately made an obvious face of distaste.

“…Uh, Nakamura-kun. This isn’t very good.”

“…………”

“Let’s try to make something prettier, okay? This one is a bit… scary.”

“…No, I won’t redo it.”

“Nakamura-kun?”

I felt the fire that had been boiling inside me slowly start to cool. I felt like I had transferred that fire into the drawing I created.

And then, to release that last ember, I exhaled it all out and said to the teacher:

“That drawing is me.”

***

…That day, I was assigned to clean the art room.

I took a broom and swept the floor, gathering dust and trash into the center of the room.

“Hey, Momoka!”

I heard Natsuki-chan’s voice from the doorway of the art room and replied, “Yeah?”

“Do you have a dustpan over there?”

“No, there isn’t one here.”

“Ah, okay, I’ll go get it.”

“Thanks.”

Natsuki-chan left the art room and ran down the hallway.

“…………”

In the art room, there were paintings displayed that we, the second-year students, had made during the fifth and sixth periods.

Of course, my painting was there, as well as Natsuki-chan’s and Saho-chan’s paintings.

I love dogs, so I drew a cute puppy. Natsuki-chan, who is all about tennis, drew a tennis racket, and Saho-chan painted a towering strawberry parfait.

All kinds of paintings lined the wall, each bursting with the individuality of the creators.

Some people had drawn basketballs, others had drawn their favorite manga characters, and the people who were good at painting had created stunningly beautiful skies so perfect that you couldn’t help but exclaim, “Wow!”

“…………”

And then, among the beautifully arranged artworks… in the corner, there was Nakamura-kun’s drawing, displayed all by itself.

However, the presence of his drawing was completely different from the others.

When I first saw this drawing, my immediate thought was, “I’m going to be killed!”

The intense murderous aura that emanated from the drawing was palpable, as if the person depicted in it might step out from the page at any moment. It had that kind of power.

“Momoka, I brought the dustpan!”

Natsuki-chan called me from behind, and I turned around, responding, “Thanks~”

“Hm? What are you looking at, Momoka?”

Carrying the dustpan in her hand, Natsuki-chan walked toward me, then looked at the place where I had been standing. “Ah, this drawing,” she murmured.

“It’s pretty messed up, huh? Nakamura’s darkness runs way too deep, doesn’t it?”

“…………”

“I can’t even begin to understand what kind of feelings he had when he drew this.”

“…Yeah, you’re right. I feel the same way.”

I stood beside Natsuki-chan, gazing at Nakamura-kun’s drawing.

“Nakamura-kun’s suffering… only he can understand it.”

“Those with both arms, how could they possibly understand how I feel—!?”

“…Not having a right arm… it must make you think about so many things, more than we can imagine.”

I gently touched his drawing. The rough texture transmitted through my fingertips.

“Wait… Momoka, how can you touch that drawing? It’s so creepy, I’m too scared to even look at it.”

“…Yeah, I’m scared too. I do think it’s creepy and frightening, but…”

“…………”

“It kind of looks like he’s crying. This drawing.”

“Huh? Crying? But there aren’t any tears.”

“Yeah. At first glance, it looks like an incredibly angry drawing, but at the same time… it feels like he’s crying helplessly.”

“Wait, what? Don’t get all spiritual on me. I can’t keep up.”

“…………”

The reason I see this drawing that way… maybe it’s because I’ve actually… seen Nakamura-kun cry before?

“Someone… someone…”

──Help me.

The image of him crying in the rain is burned into my mind. His trembling voice still lingers in my ears.

Maybe that’s why… but I can’t help but feel an overwhelming affection for this drawing.

It feels like a desperate SOS from him, and it makes my heart ache. I just want to hold him tightly.

(…Nakamura-kun, something really did happen to you, didn’t it?)

Today, once again, he hadn’t been in a good mood. His smile was forced, a fake one, something he was trying to suppress so others wouldn’t worry.

That suppression must have come out in this drawing. The feelings he’s been trying to hold in must have become too much for him to bear.

(It’s okay, Nakamura-kun.)

I’ll make sure you’re happy, so much so that you won’t have to draw something like this anymore…

“…Hey, sorry to interrupt, you two.”

At that moment, someone called out to us.

When we turned around, there was a girl we didn’t recognize.

Her hair was short and blue, with her left eye hidden by her bangs. She had a cute face but also an androgynous vibe about her.

Her body was slender and tall, much taller than us. She was almost as tall as a boy, and that only added to the androgynous atmosphere she gave off.

“U-um, who are you?”

When I asked, she smiled brightly and pointed at Nakamura-kun’s drawing.

“Could I take a closer look at that drawing?”

She asked with a cheerful voice. Though I was curious, I stepped aside and said, “Please, go ahead.”

“Whoa…! Amazing! It’s incredible!”

She said, her eyes sparkling, taking a step forward.

“Fantastic…! This is truly wonderful!”

The mysterious girl pressed her face close to Nakamura-kun’s drawing. She was so close that if she moved a bit further, her nose would almost touch the paper.

“I haven’t seen a painting that shakes me like this in a long time! This is truly ‘real art’!”

“R-real art…?”

“Yeah! This drawing has soul! It’s a soulful piece of work!”

“…………”

Natsuki-chan and I exchanged glances. The mysterious girl turned to us and said, “Hey, you two!”

“Do you know who drew this picture!?”

“This drawing? It’s Nakamura-kun’s work. Nakamura Reijiro. He’s in our class, 2nd-year, Class 1.”

“Nakamura Reijiro? Hmm, I’ve heard of him… Nakamura… Nakamura… Ah!? Could he be the one who lost his right arm in that accident!?”

“You know about him?”

“Just through rumors. I see… so it was because of that accident… I see, maybe…”

“…………”

“You said this Nakamura-kun, who drew this, is your classmate?”

“Y-yeah, that’s right.”

“Then could you introduce me to him? I’d love to meet this incredible artist in person!”

The girl’s enthusiasm was overwhelming, and Natsuki-chan couldn’t hold back her frustration.

“Wait, wait! Who even are you? At least tell us your name first!”

“Oh, my apologies, I should have introduced myself earlier. My name is Makihira Ringo. I’m the president of the art club.”

“Art club… president?”

“That’s right! I was planning to skip the boring homeroom and come straight to the art room to start creating, but… well, I ended up encountering an unexpected shock.”

She, or rather, Makihira-san, looked at Nakamura-kun’s drawing with a blissful expression on her face.

“I haven’t seen such a ‘crying picture’ in a long time. My heart was deeply shaken.”

“!”

“Huh…? Why… why are you saying the same thing as Momoka?”

“Oh, so you too realized this picture is crying? That’s wonderful! You both have the potential to be artists!”

“…………”

“This picture depicts invisible tears. It shows a heart-wrenching scream. I understand it! I can feel it!”

Makihira-san passionately explained, her eyes bright and childlike.

This was the first moment Makihira-san showed any interest in Nakamura-kun.