Grimgal of Ashes and Illusion - Volume 14 - Chapter 2

2. False Armor [solitude]

Once upon a time, there was a poor little girl.

The girl was all alone.

That was because the girl was born very ugly, and everyone told her, You’re ugly, you’re fat, you’re gross, go away.

The girl wasn’t alone because she liked it. Being called names hurt her, so she had no choice but to be alone.

When the girl was crying in the corner of her room, her stepmother got worried.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Through her sobs, the girl answered. “Everyone, they bully me.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, so you don’t need to worry about people who bully you like that.”

“But everyone bullies me!”

“If you cry, you’re only making the bullies happy. Act like you’re all right.”

“But I’m not all right at all!” the girl cried.

“Have confidence. You’re not bad. They’re the bad ones. You have to be strong. It’s silly, letting those stupid people beat you. Besides...” The girl’s stepmother rounded on her. “You say everyone bullies you, but who? What do they say? What do they do? Tell your stepmother. Come on, what are their names? What did those people say? I want details.”

Though the girl was confused, she told her stepmother who said what, who did what, what had been done to her, and what she had gone through.

When she did, her stepmother had something to say about every little thing.

“You’re not fat, so tell them you’re not a fatty.”

And...

“The reason they leave you out is because they’re too cowardly to try anything else. If they cause you any real harm, tell your stepmother. I’ll sue.”

And...

“Look in the mirror. Is your face ugly? It’s not, now is it? But no one looks good when they’re always looking down. Stand tall, and face them straight on.”

She tried to cheer the girl up.

The stepmother was probably right, and the girl was wrong. Her stepmother was always right. And she was doing her best to look after the girl, even though she hadn’t gone through the pain of giving birth to her. The girl understood that.

If she could do as her stepmother said, how wonderful that would be. But even though the girl was not very fat, she was not thin, either. Being left out didn’t hurt like being punched or kicked, and wasn’t as much trouble as having her things stolen and broken, but it made her feel lonely.

The girl’s face might not have been sickening to look at. Still, she obviously lacked the beauty of her stepmother. Her face was full of flaws, and the girl worried whether it was okay to let other people see it. Unlike her stepmother, her eyes were weird, and her nose was unshapely. Compared to her stepmother, she felt her lips were awfully small, too. Unlike her stepmother’s well-defined cheeks, the girl’s were puffy, and her round, little chin was hard on the eyes. She’d tried growing out her hair to hide the bad parts, but there was no way to hide it all, so she ended up looking down all the time.

Besides, even if she told her stepmother how things were, and why, all with proper reasons, she wouldn’t understand.

“You’re worrying too much,” her stepmother said.

Or...

“Nothing is perfect. We’re beautiful because we’re imperfect, and the little flaws give us personality.”

Or...

“Just try doing as your stepmother says, just once.”

Those were the sorts of response she always got. No doubt, her stepmother was right.

Her stepmother was thinking about what was best for the girl, and she knew spoiling her would do no good, so she sometimes told her the harsh truths she must not have wanted to. Doing what a stepmother like that said, that would be for the best. The girl understood that, too.

But the girl was not like her stepmother. She could never say this to her stepmother, and she wouldn’t, but they weren’t truly mother and daughter, so they weren’t much alike to begin with. She could never be like her.

There were things people could and couldn’t do, and just because her stepmother could do a thing, that didn’t mean the girl could, too. Was that not what it meant to have a personality?

Once upon a time, there was a little girl, and she was all alone.

That said, the girl was not okay with being alone. She hated it, so the girl did her best.

She thoroughly read people’s expressions. What were the people around her feeling, and what did they think? It was important to be able to pick up on that. No matter what, she didn’t want to be hated, so she had to be very, very careful. In all things, she would be reserved, and not stand out.

If she puffed up her chest, walking straight forward with her head high, they might think, Who does that ugly fatty think she is? and she might trip over something. Then, when she was feeling that, they’d laugh at her. That might make her cry, and if she cried, they were almost sure to think she was annoying. Nothing good would come of it.

“You always have to take responsibility for yourself. In the end, it’s all on you.”

Her stepmother was always saying that.

“You can try to change people, but it won’t work. If you can’t change people, you have to change yourself. If you’re going to change, work hard to make sure it’s always for the better.”

Like always, her stepmother was right. The girl had no power, and no right, to change anyone. That was why she had to change herself. It was just like she said.

She wanted to be like her stepmother. Beautiful, stylish, reliable, devoted, considerate, intelligent, skillful, but always working hard at whatever she did, never saying a wrong thing, always right, admired by everyone... that was the wonderful sort of person the girl wished she could be.

If it were possible.

Ahh, but in the end, it was a wish that could never come true.

Tears.

Tears.

Tears.

Tears. Tears.

Tears. Tears.

Sparkling tears.

The tears of a girl with nothing good about her.

Sparkle, sparkle.

The tears were shed by a filthy, ugly girl, yet how strange. They were so very beautiful.

Sparkle, sparkle. The girl’s tears flowed without end. Sparkle.

As she shed tears, the girl walked. Sparkle, sparkle.

Sparkling tears flowed down the ugly girl’s body, glimmering and covering it.

They wrapped around the grotesque girl, sparkling, unlike her filthy lies.

Yes. The girl told lies. Many, many lies.

I don’t want to be this pathetic me. I want to be someone else.

With that wish, the girl lied, wanting to become a sparkling version of herself.

Cheerfully, cheerfully, she greeted people. People looked at her with eyes that said, What’s with that girl?

When people laughed like they were enjoying themselves, the girl laughed, too. Her voice sounded ridiculous, like the laughing of a jester.

When they all cast stones at someone, the girl would pick up a pebble and throw it, too. It was just a pebble. It was fine. She wouldn’t hit someone anyway, and even if she did, it wouldn’t hurt.

If there was a sparkling girl, arrogant, like a young noble lady, she would look on from a distance with admiration. When she approached, little by little, and the young lady spoke to her, she would be beside herself with glee.

When someone spoke to her, the girl listened and said, “Mm-hm. Mm-hm.”

Even if she thought, How lame, or, You’re scum, or, Screw you, in her head, it never showed on her face.

Because she wanted to sparkle, she cut her long, long hair short.

“Hey, that’s nice. You look good like that,” her stepmother said, but the girl did not miss the pity that showed on her face for a moment.

“Thanks,” the girl said, but her heart felt like it might burst. I’m sorry. For not being your real daughter, and for being so ugly. I’m sorry. You’re so beautiful, and so right. You always sparkle, and it corners me.

I hate you.

The girl, of course, would never say that aloud. She would smile, saying, “Really? I’m glad,” and put on a show of how happy she was.

The poor thing, she tries so hard, her stepmother was probably thinking.

Oh, I was a poor thing. Tears. Tears. Sparkling tears.

No one knew my feelings, always hidden by tears. Tears, sparkle.

With tears flowing, I walked. Glimmering and sparkling. Sparkling and glimmering.

Flowing and flowing, my tears pooled. Sparkling everywhere. Sparkling, sparkling, making me beautiful.

Tears, sparkle, tears.

I only needed things that sparkled. I didn’t want to see anything else.

Everyone... everyone could turn to sparkles.

Plop! Something struck my cheek.

Oh, my, is it raining? I looked up.

Lavender-colored, and spreading out like a lattice, were those branches? They were almost like an umbrella.

But rain was dripping from those branches.

Lime yellow drops going plip, plip, plip. That was no rain. It was dirty, like excrement. Oh, how dirty. It was unclean.

There! I spread my arms wide. The accumulated tears, those sparkling tears, they flew away, spreading sparkles everywhere. Sparkle, tears, glimmer, tears. The swirling tears made the excrement pretty. They clung to the lavender-colored branches, sparkling, sparkling, making them screech, bend, and then shrink away to nothing.

Only the tears remained. Falling, falling, sparkling, glimmering tears.

The lavender-colored branches vanished, and the polka dot sky spread out above. I wanted to make that sky beautiful, too. But my tears couldn’t reach that sky.

Tears. Tears. Tears.

Shedding tears, I walked.

There were large, lavender-colored trees, with branches of the same color spreading out. So, so many of them. Unsightly. Unsightly. My chest, it was full of unease.

I blew hard. Tears, tears, fly away. Sparkling tears, fly away. Sparkle, screech, bend, sparkle, glimmer, shrink.

Behind the trees that grew smaller and smaller, until they disappeared, someone was crouched down, hiding. There was nowhere left to hide now.

“Damn, she found me!” that person shouted. It was an awfully loud voice.

In my chest, there was unease. Suffering, suffering. Why do you bully me? How come? What for?

“Eeeeeahhhhhiiiiiiahhhhhhhheeeeeeahhhhhhh!” I was crying. Crying. Tears flowing, overflowing, overflowing. Swinging both arms up, sparkling tears flew. Glimmering, sparkling, they flew.

“...Whoa, this again?!” Someone swung a large katana around. When he did, wow! There was a strong wind, and it blew the sparkling tears away.

Grr. Crying, I was crying. The tears flowed. Sparkling, glimmering.

“Enough, Shihoru-san! You can’t get me like that! You have to know that by now, right? What good is repeating this forever going to do?”

That someone was talking like he knew the girl.

Knew her?

“Ohh.”

That was right. I had an idea. Come to think of it, the girl knew who that someone was, too.

“Kuzaku-kun, huh...?”

“...Uh, yeah? Did you forget me, Shihoru-san?”

“Eheheh.”

“Don’t ‘eheheh’ at me! You’re acting seriously weird, Shihoru-san!”

“Weird, huh. Me. You think I’m weird?”

Even as they spoke, tears. Tears. Sparkling tears, streaming, sparkled and flowed. More and more, without end. Maybe that was weird?

Had I gone weird?

If so, when did I go weird?

How funny.

“What’re you laughing about, Shihoru-san?” the boy demanded.

Yes, that someone was a boy. Tall like a beansprout, with an excellent physique. The girl knew that boy. Kuzaku-kun.

Kuzaku-kun was in love with a certain girl. Not me, of course, a different girl. A girl who was shapely, and pretty, so very pretty, to the point that I could only sigh in admiration. What was more, she wasn’t conceited about it, wasn’t nosy, and was kindhearted, a lovely girl.

Heh heh. My chest, it felt so, so full of unease. Heh heh. Heh heh.

That’s right. That was right. Not just Kuzaku-kun; Haruhiro-kun loved that girl, too.

I could see why. Even if she never says a word, a lovely girl will be liked by others. Treasured, treated kindly. There’s nothing strange about that at all. It was natural. No one was wrong for doing it. Heh heh. It was no one’s fault. Heh heh. Heh heh.

“Shihoru...san?” someone called her name.

The girl looked up to the polka dot sky.

When had this story become so warped?

All the girl wanted was for someone to be kind to her. To treasure her. To adore her. To praise her. To comfort her. To hold her tight, and to spoil her. That was all. Was it all that difficult?

Yes, it was incredibly difficult.

I mean, I’m not pretty, I’m fat, I’m dim-witted, I’m gloomy, I’m timid, and if it’s for you, for everyone, not for myself, I can try hard for everyone, no, that’s a lie, a big fat lie, that’s not true, I want to be recognized, I want to be praised, I want people to be kind to me, to treasure me, I want something in return for me, for myself, it’s all I want, I want it so bad it hurts, it’s all I do everything for.

Once upon a time, there was girl so ugly you had to pity her.

That girl is still ugly.

That girl will always, always be ugly.

This story was warped from the beginning.

Because the girl who was its main character was incredibly ugly and warped.

“Shihoru-san,” someone called her name again.

Looking down, the tall boy with the big katana was standing close enough he could reach out and touch her.

“Whaaat?” the girl asked, and the boy looked down.

“Nah... it’s just... we’re comrades, right?”

“Comrades...”

“Right? How should I put it? We’re together through thick and thin... or something like that, I dunno really. What happened...? Like, what are you thinking and feeling, I guess? I don’t know what it is, but I’m sure you’re suffering. Could you, like... tell me about it, maybe? I’m not sure me listening will help at all, though. No! I may not be good for much, but maybe there’s something I can do...”

“Then hold me.”

“Eh?” The boy let out a cry of surprise, his eyes going wide as he looked at the girl. The boy’s gaze nearly ignored the girl’s face, lingering over her breasts, before turning aside.

Honestly, boobs, boobs, boobs, was that all? Boys only ever looked at girls’ boobs. Did they think girls didn’t notice? How could they not? It was almost like the girls were just an attachment that came with the boobs. Did they not think girls would be hurt, being treated that way?

You’re nothing but a dick to me. How does that feel? It’s deeply, deeply hurtful, right?

“No, um, that’s a bit...” The boy was mumbling to himself.

The girl smiled broadly. “It’s okay. I was just kidding.”

“Oh! Ohhh. Y-You were kidding. Of course. No, it’s not like I took you seriously there. It was so sudden. You surprised me. It’s just, um, I may not need to say this, but it’s not like I’d never consider you as an option, but we’re comrades and all. Yeah. It’s important to have some sense of moderation...”

In her chest, there was an unease. It hurt. It hurt bad. Tears, sparkle. Tears. Tears. Tears.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t matter.”

“Wah...” The boy hurriedly jumped back.

That was because the girl’s sparkling tears were closing in on his feet. Sparkling, glimmering. Tears. Tears. A sea of tears, sparkling, growing, more and more.

“...Shihoru-san!” The boy tried to swing his big katana, but he hesitated.

The stupid, foolish boy.

He had no intention of saving the girl, but he was trying to get by with gentle-sounding words.

In her heart, there was unease. Tears, sparkling.

Disappear.

Disappear!

The girl quickly raised her arms. The accumulated tears, tears, tears went flying, whirling around and assaulting the boy.

“Urkh...”

It was too late for the boy. No matter what he did, it was no good. He couldn’t run. She wouldn’t let him. The poor, stupid boy. The poor, ugly girl would shed more sparkling tears, no doubt.

Sparkle. Glimmer.

“Tonbe!”

“Yes, Io-sama!”

Then, all of a sudden, she heard voices she wasn’t familiar with one after another. Something unbelievable had happened. A man who was far fatter than the ugly girl got between her and the boy who was about to be swallowed up by sparkling tears.

The man had something small in his hand. It was a small mirror with a handle. A hand-mirror, most likely.

When the tubby man crouched in front of the tall boy, the hand-mirror instantly grew to a size that covered both of them.

Mirror, mirror. The mirror reflected the sparkling tears. Sparkle and glimmer, glimmer and sparkle. Sparkle, sparkle, glimmer, glimmer.

“Eeeek!” The girl thought she had gone blind. That was how brilliant it was. “Ahh! Ahhhh!”

Her eyes were open, but everything had gone white. It didn’t just look white. She couldn’t see anything.

Her eyes, they hurt, ow, ow, ow. She fell to one knee, covering her face with both hands. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so bad. Even as she did, though, the tears were flowing. They didn’t ever stop. It was possible they would go on forever, never stopping.

In time, she was able to see the outlines of things again. She came to her senses.

They were gone.

No one was here.

Rubbing her eyes, blinking, she double-checked. Yes, they were gone.

There was no one around.

The poor, ugly girl was all alone.