Oh. Right.
Just a few seconds earlier, I was bounding across the park.
Concerned for the girl’s condition and potential future woes, I must have planted down my foot at the wrong angle.
My upper body, moving at high speed, used the outstretched foot as a fulcrum, thrusting it toward the ground below.
It wasn’t hard to predict what would happen at the next instant.
I’m sorry, little girl. Try not to stare too much.
“Daaaaaggghhhhhh!”
With a well-chosen, almost theatrical scream, I took a convoluted pose that looked just as well rehearsed as I hit the ground.
If this were a comedy sketch, living rooms across the nation would’ve been reduced to puddles of laughter by now.
Laughter and applause would have been preferable to this, anyway.
Instead, I was in the middle of a completely soundless public park, huddled down low and lacking the comedic timing of knowing when to get back up.
My foot, and the rest of my body, faced searing pain. But, needless to say, that didn’t matter to me.
The problem was the base, vulgar feeling known as “shame” that accompanied the pain, hurdling over it like a pole-vaulter.
Think about it. This guy, leaping right in front of you, then letting out an otherworldly wail as he slid to the ground.
…I was out of the game. It was terrifying.
Why did I have to do anything so unplanned, so pointless?
What should I do? Did I need to get up, pat myself down, and run off?
No, I shouldn’t. That crack I heard indicated that high-speed travel wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
I would be loping along, all but dragging my bad foot behind me. That much was clear. How could I infuse that innocent girl’s mind with yet more dark memories?
Which suggested that the only option was to stay here and wait for time to pass. Was that it?
If I didn’t plead my case to her, I would exist in the girl’s mind forevermore as “that weird freak who almost pratfalled right into me.” I didn’t like that much, but today, I had to resign myself to it.
I was fine with that. Really. So come on, time. Pass by a little quicker for me.
“Are you hurt?”
How could I possibly be okay?
My entire body hurt. I was painfully embarrassed. And now she was…
“Huh?!”
I looked up, only to find the girl holding a handkerchief right in front of my eyes.
Both of her saucerlike eyes were free of tears. Judging by her expression, she didn’t seem interested in trying to report me to the authorities.
“N-no! No, I’m, I’m totally okay! I just kinda tripped a little, is all…Uh. Ha-ha-ha…”
I sat up, mustering the best chuckle I could fake on the spot.
My act didn’t make her flee screaming. That was kind of her. But I was still fresh from playing out a live-action blooper reel in front of her.
Just because she held a hand out for me didn’t mean my shame was weak enough to let me accept the offering.
Watching me attempt to put myself together in a panic, the girl asked the blisteringly obvious question that stood between us:
“But, but that looked like more than just a trip to me…Looked really painful, too.”
The girl’s guileless query was like throwing kerosene on the dumpster fire of my shame.
Yes. You’re absolutely right. That last fall would probably make it to the top three most gnarly wipeouts of my life.
“I—I’m fine! Really! I trip like this pretty much every day, so I’m kinda used to it, actually.”
Nobody like that existed. If they did, they’d be dead in three days.
The reply, laced with equal parts gallantry and massive whoppers of lies, made the girl’s face grow even more incredulous.
“Used to it? Um, are you hiding something, maybe…?”
Her eyes peered intently at me, the suspicion now clear across her brows.
“Uh…heh-heh-heh…”
Great. Continuing on like this was just digging my own grave.
She’s leaping on me like a coyote, though, isn’t she?
Wasn’t she motionless on the ground a moment or two ago? Now she’s the perfect picture of health.
With that act of hers, you couldn’t have paid me enough to tell her, “I tripped because I thought you needed my help.” Not at all.
I have a bad feeling about this.
This was already bad, of course, but if I get involved any further with this girl, this would wind up even more of a pain.
If she started spreading rumors about this “weird kid who hurt himself cartwheeling toward me in the park,” it would be all hands on deck for me.
At this time in the late afternoon, too, I needed to extract myself out of here, stat. Even if it meant being the weird kid around the neighborhood.
That might leave me with some mental scarring, but so be it. I had to extract myself from this mess. I sighed.
“…All right. I’ll tell you the truth.”
This seemed to confuse her even further.
“Th-the truth?”
“Yeah. So basically…”
The lingering sense of embarrassment was bringing me close to the breaking point. I bottled it up with an audacious smirk as I continued.
“That thing earlier…That was just me practicing one of my secret moves. Something I can use to…uh, take down bad guys in a single hit.”
Silence.
Really, really painful silence.
All sound disappeared from the park, as if it were frozen in time. I could see my life gauge plummet as I accepted my new title as the biggest freak in the world.
Right. Now go away. Get freaked out and go away before my face turns into the remains of a forest fire.
That, and just forget about everything that you saw here today. Go home, eat dinner, go to sleep, fall in love, and live out a happy life for me.
But despite my prediction that she would waste no time running for the hills, the girl gave me a wholly unexpected reaction.
“Oh! That really was it!”
Her face exuded a blindingly bright curiosity. Sparkles flung out of every pore.
“…Huh?”
“That, that, that’s exactly what I thought you were doing! W-wow! Now it all makes sense…! Guess you wanna keep your secret moves on the down low, huh? Don’t wanna go blabbing about them to everyone, right?!”
The girl was, if anything, five times closer to my face now. “Y-yeah! Sure!” I blubbered, my head meandering between nodding yes and shaking no.
What kind of hidden fetishes did this girl have, anyway?
I was planning to go down on three strikes just then, only to find myself hitting an inside-the-park home run.
Completely ignoring my fidgety body language, the girl lifted herself up, eyed her surroundings for a moment, and said something even stranger.
“And just between you and me…so was I.”
“Um, sorry, what’re you talking about?”
I tried to regain some level of distance from her as I asked. The girl took another good look around the park, her voice dropping lower.
“My secret move! I was practicing my secret move!”
She looked deadly serious, even if her words were, by any impartial judgment, less so.
“Huh? Practicing? …You mean that spinning around the bar?”
That was the only thing I could think of.
“Yeah!” Another clean hit, it seemed. “Ooh, I should’ve guessed you’d know about it!” She was growing more and more excited, her face enrapt in wonder.
I didn’t realize there was anything to “know.” Why did she think they put bars like that in playgrounds?
And what did that have to do with whatever “secret move” she had in her mind?
Wait. Hang on. Could this girl be…?
“So, um, do you think twirling around on that bar is a secret
move…?”
“Yeah! My dad told me. He said, ‘Most foes, if you swing on that bar enough, they’ll catch on fire and die!’”
There was no doubt in the girl’s eyes as she delved further into her fantasy realm.
“I keep messing up just before I go the whole way around. But I got it totally mapped out in my mind. I know I’m gonna do it next time!”
“Uh…cool…”
So there you have it.
Back when she was on the ground, when I thought she broke a leg or something, she was just picturing herself doing a full revolution next time. Perfect.
“…Um, so I gotta get home…”
The smirk was a distant memory from my face by now, no doubt, painted over with a dull, pallid expression.
And who could blame me?
There was no telling how much energy I had consumed in the scant few minutes since I noticed this girl.
Probably several months’ worth, at least, I imagined.
“What? Already?! But there was so much I wanted to talk to you about…”
Give me a break.
I hated to break it to the girl, but I didn’t have enough life force left in my body for a rollicking conversation about deadly attacks using playground equipment.
The pain and fatigue that racked my frame, along with the sheer sense of emptiness this conversation was instilling in me, seemed ready to take physical form behind my back, becoming a giant city-destroying monster of some sort.
“Yeah, uh, it’s just about time, so…”
An innocent enough excuse. I gave it with a smile.
“Oooh…,” cooed the girl wistfully. I doubted she would continue to try stopping me now.
I looked at the clock. It was just at half past five.
A bit early to go back home, but I had a mission today—a cup to buy, to put it another way.
Considering how much time I wasted here, heading out right now would work out the best timing-wise, anyway.
Standing up with the foot I didn’t twist, I gingerly began to place weight on my other leg.
It was painful, as I expected, but not bad enough that I couldn’t walk.
If it was hopeless—if it hurt too much to stand—I couldn’t even imagine what the girl would say to me then.
“Okay, uh, I’m off.”
I tried my best to leave the park behind me at once. “Oooh…!” she replied, the dissatisfaction clear in her groan.
Looking closely, the two eyes that had me in her sights began to display a moistness that wasn’t there before.
Oh, crap. I definitely need to head out before this gets even worse.
Fighting off a slight sense of guilt over it all, I gave her a light “Heh-heh!” and began to drag my leg off to the park exit.
“Hey!”
The girl’s voice rang out after several steps.
What? What else could she possibly want with me?
I turned around, to find the girl’s pained expression now replaced with a soft smile.
“Wanna talk again tomorrow?”
Something about her face, about her words, rendered me speechless.
I wondered if I ever made anyone any promises about tomorrow before at any point in my life.
Nothing I could instantly recall, anyway.
What was I talking about? “Nothing I could instantly recall”? I’m still a kid.
I haven’t lived long enough to start burying my memories in oblivion.
“Sure. Tomorrow, right here.”
I turned around again and left the park.
Why did I make it so perfunctory? I wasn’t sure myself.
My ankle hurt with every step I took along the concrete path. But the way that pain so eloquently spoke of the day’s events seemed charming, somehow, at this point.
Better not hurt anything else tomorrow, I thought, attempting to gloss over my true feelings as I casually strolled off.
The neighborhood had begun to show the signs of a quickly advancing evening.
I shuffled the shopping bag from hand to hand to keep my arms from falling asleep, gingerly keeping my weight to one side as I walked. I must be some kind of pro at this by now.
“Good thing I found something nice.”
I was still limping as I made my way back home, fresh from a quick trip to the shopping arcade by the station for a new teacup.
The pain certainly made its presence known as I walked, but once I returned home and sat down, it shouldn’t be anything unbearable.
A bigger problem was that this ankle made me completely forget about my right cheek.
When the clerk at the shop asked, “Hey, what’s up with your face?” I gave the rather uncharacteristic reply of “What, am I that ugly to you?”
That stupid girl.
I have got to get back at her somehow tomorrow.
I walked on, silently, stewing in my own juices.
Reaching a road I was well familiar with, turning at an intersection I was well familiar with, crossing an intersection after waiting at the light the same amount of time I always did, I came to the apartment I lived in.
I opened the front door—just as I always did—climbed the metal stairs, and headed for the farthest door on the second floor.
It wasn’t that nice of a building, but once our next-door neighbor moved out two months ago, we’d had the entire floor to ourselves, mostly.
My mother liked that—“Now I don’t have to worry about how I look all the time,” as she put it—but for someone like me, left alone for much of the night, it honestly left me a tad uneasy.
Things like ghosts and ancient curses…I couldn’t stand them.
My mother loved that kind of stuff, watching ghost hunter–type shows whose titles alone would make my skin crawl. I really wish she’d stop.
That one the other day, especially, when they were investigating that abandoned hospital…Dahh, I shouldn’t try to think about it. Think about something fun. Something fun…
“…Nothing fun around here, really.”
Passing by three empty apartments, I finally reached my own home.
I couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but judging by how high the sun was, it probably wasn’t too far removed from my usual time.
…But that was really the only thing usual about tonight.
“Huh. The door’s open.”
In fact, as I approached, it was already halfway ajar. That’s dangerous.
Thanks to old age, the door needed to be shut tight, or else it’d creak open a little like that. But my mother was aware of that. She had to be.
“Was she in a hurry?”
I didn’t pay it much mind as I put a hand on the doorknob.
Until I opened the door and looked up, my mind was running along familiar lines: Better be more careful when I go out tomorrow. That kind of thing. I was such a hopeless idiot.
When I turned my face upward, there were two grown-ups in a room illuminated by orange-tinted light.
One I knew well—my mother, still wearing her prim work uniform.
The other I had never seen before, a large man wearing dingy-looking clothing and a ski mask.
“Ah…”
Why hadn’t my mother left for work?
My mother never wanted to let anyone in our apartment. There was no way she’d invite a guy like this inside.
So why was my mother on her side, teary-eyed, with her hands tied behind her back and a dirty washcloth in her mouth?
Why did this man have some of my mother’s favorite jewelry in his grubby hands?
The answer came pretty quickly to me.
But by the time it arrived, it was so late that none of it even mattered any longer.
Without a sound, the man’s right hand grabbed my shirt collar and tossed me inside the room.
“Gah!”
Unable to brace myself, my back hit hard against the floor, the air knocked out of my lungs.
At that moment, multiple lights twinkled in front of my eye
s, as if an entire corps of press photographers was taking my picture.
I couldn’t take a breath.
I had never felt so helplessly unable to breathe in my life.
My mind fell into a panic as I tried to get up. I tried to prop myself with my right hand, only to find it quivering and useless.
My mother, lying down, let out a moan as she attempted to scream.
What? What is she trying to scream at?
What could it be…?
My hazy mind forced my eyes into motion, focusing on the jewelry in the man’s left hand as he was about to leave the room.
Yes. That had to be it.
The jewelry my mom slaved on the job every day to finally, victoriously obtain.
And the man was trying to take it somewhere else.
Makes sense, Mom. Who wouldn’t scream if someone did that to you?
For a single moment, my right arm found its strength again.
It pushed against the floor, springing my body upward.
On my feet, I used my momentum to lunge at the man’s back.
“G-give it back…That…that’s not yours…”
But right when it counted the most, I found myself pathetically powerless.
With a clicking of his tongue, the man flung my arm away with the same strength he showed earlier, kicking me back into the room.
“Ngh…!”
Thrown off balance, I found myself facedown on the floor.
My vision grew hazy as I tried to gasp for breath. There was no standing up for me any longer.
I quivered there for a while, silently. Then I heard some metallic clattering from the kitchen.
I couldn’t see it, but based on my mother’s echoing scream, I understood well enough what that meant.
The knife set. She bought a pretty fancy knife set a while ago. She practically never cooked, either. It stood proudly on the kitchen counter, completely unused. He was probably after something or other in there.
No doubt intending to skewer me before I could take another swipe at him.
One stab would be enough to silence me forever, eliminating the need to keep pushing me off his back. It’d be easy.
And now, with my ear against the floor as I lay there, I had crystal-clear insight on the fact that the man’s footsteps were approaching me.
This meant, probably, that I’d be dead in a few minutes. This didn’t seem to conjure any particular emotion within me.
The Deceiving Page 2