User:The Koromo/Right Where it Belongs

Hagiyoshi was not at all surprised to find her sitting atop the rectangular structure that rose up out from the rooftop, her legs dangling over the edge, her backed turned to him – his GPS had tracked him to her onto this dull Nagano building, the boring, musty atmosphere only remedied by the glaring stars that shone millions of light years into the great beyond, and the disembodied whirrs and gargles of vehicles on the bustling night street below.

He approached her, hoping his footsteps would arouse her attention – she was adorned in her red and white one piece dress, her headband perched upon her scalp. Pink Velcro-strap shoes invisible to Hagiyoshi concealed by the night swung back and forth off of the brick structure. Blond locks fell behind her, trailing down to her concealed behind. Blue eyes, also hidden by the inescapable grasp of darkness. Her legs were adorned with white thigh highs – Hagiyoshi could see the ridged, fluffy edges of them even from the sheer distance. In particular her height struck many a strange chord – but Hagiyoshi had gotten used to her apparently mild dwarfism by now. How tall was she? 120s-range, Hagiyoshi thought. A little over four feet, in Western terms. Hagiyoshi, at six-one, was almost a full two feet taller than her.

When she displayed no reaction to his footsteps, Hagiyoshi called out. “Koromo-sama?” Koromo didn’t jump. She didn’t even flinch. She turned over to him, eyes catching a glimpse of the man out of their corners. She didn’t turn her head any further. “Hagiyoshi,” she said. “Greetings. What brings you here this fine night?” Her voice seemed sad, lost, distant. Hagiyoshi realized that it’d been a long time since Koromo outwardly expressed any form of glumness since she met that Kiyosumi girl who had defeated her at last year’s prefectural tournament.

Almost eighteen? So young, so ripe, so new. Remembrances of the past a memory; and visions of the future unknown. The same applied for Hagiyoshi, maybe. But he was forty-two, and he hoped, or rather wished that he could relive his teenage years. For a moment he remembered his childhood; when he was ten returning to his family after four long years of segregation, sobbing as he fell into his mother’s arms. In middle school when jocks bullied him senseless and they got their just desserts when they stupidly all broke driving laws and cracked their ribs on the highway off from Hagiyoshi’s school. When he was sixteen and had his first love and when he was nineteen losing his virginity to his beautiful girlfriend at the time, his arms wrapped around her waist grabbing her backside, their lips touching, both of them never wanting this night to end. All those memories of better times filled his mind. So why did he want to relive them? Guilt, maybe. Aggression, hormones, couldn’t avoid hormones, and couldn’t avoid depression…but he still wished he could get rid of the guilt.

He didn’t answer Koromo’s question. “Is something the matter, Koromo-sama?” His voice was stern, stolid, unwavering. He served the Ryuumonbuchi family and he was a butler; so he had to monitor his vocal delivery. Sad, yes, but he didn’t wish to get fired.

Koromo’s lips scrunched together, though of course her butler didn’t notice. “Ehhh…” she whined, lolling her head side to side. Hagiyoshi figured that was a red flag for him to join her; he stepped up upon the ladder and climbed it until he was atop the rectangular brick structure. Hagiyoshi did not sit down next to her; he simply stood behind her. To sit beside his Mistress would be an act of disgrace; a house servant was not to show any form of affection-

“Will you sit with me, Hagiyoshi?” Koromo said, completely contradicting a shocked Hagiyoshi’s inner monologue; had his ears deceived him in this moment? He had been told times before that a butler should focus on nothing but household jobs – and that was all. Showing any friendship with his Mistress would have been…would have been forbidden? But she wanted him to sit with her. That was a first. Sure, Koromo had said hello to him and smiled at him once in a blue moon (no pun intended) and he would grin back with a signature saying of “greetings”, but he’d never been too close to her and-

“Hagiyoshi? You there?”

“Y-yes. My apologies, Koromo-sama.”

Hagiyoshi strode over to the ledge and propped himself down next to his Mistress, his legs adjacent to hers, his own remaining placid and hers swinging in the darkness. The two were silent briefly, looking out onto the city lights below. A veil of gentle rain, more of a drizzle than anything that pinched both of their heads and shoulders every ten seconds or so had arisen in the air. A cloud was cast above them, though the separation of the puffy substances up in the atmosphere rendered millions of stars still visible. After about a minute Hagiyoshi broke the silence.

“Koromo-sama, it is getting late. Touka-ojousama will you want you home soon. Furthermore, is something bothering you? I will report it to Touka-ojousama immediately.” ‘I will report it to Touka-ojousama immediately’ was probably the closest he was allowed to get to affection with her. Or either of his Mistresses, having said that.

“Ahhh…” she drawled again. She rubbed her thumbs together, twiddling them. Hagiyoshi was about to give up asking until she continued on cue of that thought; “Hagiyoshi, yesterday Koromo finished reading this book in Language Arts class. It upset me a great deal. It was for individual reading. It was well-crafted, however…” She trailed off, apparently uncomfortable about speaking of it.

“What was it?” Hagiyoshi looked at her now, unsmiling, but intrigued. What he had gathered about Koromo was that she was a voracious reader – she devoured books as quickly and rabidly as a wolverine could eat up a little rodent. The Lord of the Rings, Les Misérables, Moby Dick, basically anything labelled classic. She ate up quite a bit of works by Stephen King and Cormac McCarthy as well – much to Touka’s chagrin. Hell, Koromo even read (and enjoyed) that sentimental, brooding piece of crap The Scarlet Letter which Hagiyoshi had been forced to dredge through in his senior year.

“It was called The Chocolate War. Koromo fails to recollect who it is by, I read it in two days. Have you heard of it?” She looked at him now, curiosity in the blue orbs of her eyes. “Orbs” was a fantastically cliché way to refer to a person’s eyes, used mainly by secretly stupid mid-twenties holier-than-thou poets who strut around like they were the hot shit, but Hagiyoshi thought of the word as the only feasible way he could describe the puzzling enigma of his Mistress’ eyes – too big to be real, it seemed, but not big enough to be unattractive. In fact her eyes were the opposite of ugly – they were only filled with wonder.

“Yes. I have read it, Koromo-sama. It is by Robert Cormier. I haven’t read it in so long, but I remember the man’s name.” A book like that upsetting Koromo? He didn’t really remember it – he guessed he would in a few seconds.

“Yes. Robert Cormier. Thank you very much. Anyways, it’s about this Catholic all boys’ school. The book was kind of gross, but the writing was solid. However, it had disheartening themes. There’s this character named Archie in it. He runs an underground society called…the Vigils. Yes, indeed, that was the name.”

“So basically a secret society,” Hagiyoshi confirmed, and Koromo nodded. “A mob rule. What do they do?”

“The entire ideas and concept of the book is disturbing,” Koromo returned. “The character Archie is the ringleader of the society, controlling every other member of it like puppets. He assigns everyone in the school to do these awful things so he can build his own reputation and engineer the ruin of the school in the following years. Then there’s this chocolate sale, and a new exchange student arrives. Archie seizes his chance and attempts to manipulate this boy as well, though the boy is the first to defy Archie’s despicable ways. Eventually Archie fights tooth and nail to bring this boy down. And he succeeds, Hagiyoshi. He succeeds.”

Hagiyoshi was bewildered so he responded with honesty. “Excuse my insincerity, Koromo-sama; but what is the problem here? It is just fiction, after all.”

“It may be merely fictitious, but it still upset Koromo,” she assured. “Because Archie was so evil, so cruel and manipulative and beastly…and I wonder What if I am the same as Archie? What if I am just as cruel and soulless?”

Hagiyoshi felt a sting in his chest. He knew the extent of her sorrow, knew how hard losing her parents had hit her. He knew. He’d lost someone before. He knew. “But there’s no reason to blame yourself,” he said as an out-loud finish to his thought before realizing the lack of context and he scolded himself for being so stupid.

“Blame myself for what?” Koromo asked, looking at him, no anger in her eyes. Only wonder.

Hagiyoshi attempted to cover up his words – he did not want Koromo to know he was referencing her parents. “Blame yourself for…for being influenced by fiction?” This failed attempt at humor concealed his true intentions, though not for long.

“Hagiyoshi…tell the truth,” Koromo said with an air of irritation in her voice.

Realizing his job as butler might be at stake

(that’s bullshit hagiyoshi and you know it) he thought

he went with full honesty now. “I was thinking about your mother and father, Koromo-sama. Please excuse my insincerity. I beg of you.” Wow, my job is screwed anyway, he thought glumly. It’s pretty certain she’s not going to like-“

She cut in. “It’s okay, Hagiyoshi. Don’t be sad. Yes, Koromo understands. But I feel I cannot help but blame myself. My uncle implemented the idea mechanically into my mind ever since I was a little child. Koromo wants to hate him, but she cannot.”

“Then does that not disprove your idea that you are a bad person?” Hagiyoshi responded.

It was Koromo’s turn to be struck with bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

The answer was simple to explain for him. “Being incapable of hatred, no matter the terrible fate that has befallen you over the years – being unable to loathe a person who has done you so much wrong. That is the work of a strong and, perhaps, kindly spirit. I applaud that aspect, Koromo-sama.”

Koromo gazed up at the stars, her eyes turned away from his temporarily. “But that does not remedy the ever present fact that I have been blamed,” she lamented. “Society shuns Koromo, so I shun society. It goes in both directions. When my parents died, I lost all reason to continue. My uncle blaming me was only a kick to my wound, shoving the boot into the gaping bloody maw, rubbing dirt and disease into it…”

Hagiyoshi grimaced at that description. But he knew. “You did not do it, Koromo. I know for a fact you are innocent.” Then he realized his mistake, flinched in terror, knowing what would come next.

Not using “-sama”? What are you, Hagiyoshi? Drunk? Here goes my career, he thought, twelve years of hard work down the drain-

“I truly am,” Koromo said with a deep sigh. She turned her attention back to him. “I have come curiously close to the end down beneath my self-indulgent pitiful hole. I am a bully, Hagiyoshi. When I play, I…I lose control. Words spill out. Cruel words. Harsh words. Disturbing, condescending words. I’ve hurt people. Murdered their spirits even. I find few who enjoy playing with me. So what is the point?”

“The point is to keep moving,” Hagiyoshi answered. “Who says you cannot change, Koromo-sama? Only fools believe change does not occur. Change happens everywhere…in everyone. When your mother and father died, you changed, right? And how do you even know if they are truly dead?” “Truly dead? What do you mean?” Koromo had figured he had meant the “not dead if they’re still in your heart” cliché that had been bulleted cruelly into her head by misunderstanding, falsely sympathetic media maggots who only gave a shit about cashing in on a big news story, not that two important people in her life had actually died and she would never see them again. So in that respect she felt hurt by Hagiyoshi’s remark – but the man’s words had different intentions. Hagiyoshi looked at her, unsmiling. “You do not know whether your parents are truly died. The reason is simple: you didn’t directly witness them die. Somebody informed a family member, who spread it around to others – and that information found its way to you.”

A massive chill shuttered down Koromo’s spine. Was this…was this a possibility? She was almost angry at her butler for suggesting such a radical, absurd ideation this late into sharing a home with him. But the idea wasn’t really absurd. It made sense, dammit, it did. It didn’t help the fact that her parents had apparently died on September 30th, some years ago, but the information did not reach Koromo’s ears until October 3rd, that same year ago.

Hagiyoshi continued. “They could be living in a home somewhere, Koromo-sama. Anywhere. China, Australia, Europe, America. Anywhere. Japan, still, even. Waiting for their little daughter to knock on their door.”

She was angry now, almost wanting to punch Hagiyoshi in the face level angry. If it was just anger, then she would probably have done it. She was his superior – who was he to judge or strike at her back? But now, sadness overcame the rage. Sobless, salty tears began to streamline down her cheeks – and Hagiyoshi felt a horrid pang of guilt.

“My God, Koromo-sama…I’m so sorry…” His apology was genuine, legitimate. But for some reason despite this being the worst thing he had said all night, this time he felt no fear of being fired – that was the least of his concerns. He was upset that he had caused harm, caused hurt to a person…

(say it hagiyoshi)

a person…important to him. That’s right, she was a symbol of importance to him. Of course he could never say it, for an inferior does not show affection to his superior, his Mistress, outside of household duties – those were the closest to acts of kindness the man was permitted to commit.

''Friends? No, I couldn’t be friends with her. She is my Mistress, and I serve the Mistress. There will be absolutely no platonic involvement or any sort of bond shown between she and I. It is forbidden. It is a sin.''

But he realized with dread that, on his side, he was friends with a person who would undoubtedly laugh in his face at the sheer ideation that he viewed her as a friend. He imagined with horror the conversation that would play out had he ever asked her to engage in friendly liaison sometime around;

''“Koromo-sama, I care about you and I want to spend more time with you. Can we maybe arrange a meeting? I could take you to the ice cream shop, perhaps? Or we could watch a silly movie?”''

''Then Koromo would scoff dishearteningly and respond; “Friends? With a butler? Don’t make me laugh.”''

But back to the present. She had stopped crying, but her face was still red, wet. “No, no. It’s okay, Hagiyoshi.” It wasn’t, but she forgave him. Where would you get in life without forgiveness? She wiped her face off with one swipe of her sleeve. “It’s just…what makes Koromo a demon? Why does Koromo have to be blessed with this? I don’t want to be a monster. I’m such a bully. And I expect to have friends despite this occasionally abysmal attitude – what sort of incompetent mentality? I may find comfort here. I may find peace within the emptiness, within the void. What a pity.”

“You aren’t a demon, Koromo-sama.” Hagiyoshi stared at her with sad eyes. “By that logic, I am a demon too. And my mother was a demon. And my sister was a demon. She’s a demon, he’s a demon, I’m a demon, we’re all demons. Koromo-sama – listen to me. You have damage because we all have damage. You will be you for the rest of your life, and everyone goes through these things. It’s not a phase. Do not attempt to mask it as one – and you are intelligent, so I know this. The importance comes from the action you take when the horrors must come. I assume you’ve read The Count of Monte Cristo?”

The question threw her in a loop. “Yes. It’s one of Koromo’s favorites. Why…?”

“There is a quote. After Dantes returns to France’s mainland he meets Mondego’s son and he says (at this moment Hagiyoshi attempted to lighten the mood with the best French accent he could muster, which still turned out to be lackluster and mediocre); "Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout as you did in Rome. Do your worst, for I will do mine.” Live by that quote. It is important. Loneliness is not a phase. Anger and depression are not phases. We must learn to adapt to the harsh cruelties and realities of the modern world and deal with the hours of darkness when they roll in like a black cloud in the sky.”

Koromo looked down. “But Dantes wanted revenge. Alexandre Dumas shaped him up to change in a bad way. He became mean and vengeance-thirsty. He used to be a nice guy. I don’t wanna change like Dantes did, Hagiyoshi. I’m scared of change. Which is why it’s so hard.”

“But even Dantes realized his mistake in the end,” Hagiyoshi confirmed, “which is why he returned to the cliffs of the Chateau to pray for Faria’s spirit. And change is terrifying for everyone. It’s a mundane, ridiculous example, but go on a website like YouTube. Or any other social networking sites, really. The contents of these sites change drastically every…six months? A year? And look at people’s reactions. What do you see? Fear, to an extent. Frightened, disillusioned, intolerant people who outrage over something as stupid as the format of a comments section being changed. But fear, disillusionment and intolerance all tie into ignorance. What also ties into ignorance? Racism. Misogyny. Homophobia. Any kind of prejudice, really. And you know what? We are all frightened, disillusioned, and intolerant to some extent – which is why we fear the phenomena of change. Change is an enigma. But sometimes it ought to be done.”

Koromo realized he was right, but that changed no feelings inside of her. Well, maybe it did to an extent. She realized her ignorance – she had prejudice in her. Everyone was a little bit racist. Definitely yes she had prejudice in her. She’d laughed at innocuous rape jokes and segregation jokes. Jokes, but impactful nonetheless. But that changed nothing which was the feeling of nothing which intertwined with feelings of abandonment and loneliness and separation and of course blame. Guilt for something she didn’t even do, because she had been programmed to be guilty.

“But how can I change? No, no. Don’t answer that. The answer is something I must uncover myself. But why do I feel nothing? Why can’t I compensate nothing into something? This is strange but relevant; I read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland when I was nine. To this day it remains the most frightening thing I have experienced on paper, perhaps anywhere upon this mortal coil. Because the sheer idea that life is a dream…that nothing is reality…that we are all ants marching in a line on a conveyor belt…all mindless drones who need to wake up because it’s a dream…”

“Yes,” Hagiyoshi acknowledged. “The dream argument. René Descartes; 1641. He provided the idea that our perceptions of mortal reality should not be trusted in full, if at all. Simulated reality is also a defining factor harkening back to René’s philosophy.”

“There’s also solipsism which is a similar ideation,” Koromo began. “It tells us that we can never be completely sure if the people around as truly quite as they seem. We can never be sure that the mere confounds of existence itself around us as are quite as they seem. People, animals, plants, places, love, friendship, dedication…family…they could be our own creations. Not God’s, not Mother Nature’s. Ours.”

Hagiyoshi was about to think of a response but before he could formulate one Koromo sharply continued. “Ponder it, Hagiyoshi. Are we really ever sure what side of the glass we are on? Just think about your life for a moment. Close your eyes and marvel in wonder. And mine, but more notably your life because you seem to be a generally wiser person than I, given your age. Think about safety; ponder your life. See the safety of this world – your world - and think that you have built it for a second. Are you wrong? Or are you right? We’ll never know. Maybe after we are dead, these cosmic, beckoning questions will be answered. But right now, look upon your world. Everything is all right where it belongs. But what if everything around you isn’t quite as it seems? What if all of the world we think we know is just creations of our own? Hagiyoshi. Take, for example, an atom twirling around a nucleus. Now scientific fact proves that an atom in and of itself is almost a-hundred-percent of empty space. Bang. What does this conclude in? Nothing whatsoever. Because most matter on our world is made up of atoms, it’s safe to assume that everything is truly empty space, because atoms are, for the most part, empty space. What about that other 0.000000000001 percent? That’s us. Or you. Or me. Or whoever really exists, whoever pulls the strings. Are you sure I exist, Hagiyoshi? Am I sure you exist? It is impossible to tell. Here’s another common example; when you get tooth pain, why does it hurt like hell? Because you choose for it to be real. Your mind chooses it…and makes it seem as though it is reality. What’s matter? Why, energy condensed. That’s all. That’s the case with matter; matter is everywhere. I am matter. You are matter. When we see something we perceive it to be reality – and don’t give it much second thought. In most instances, we hardly give it thought at all.”

Hagiyoshi was awestruck – and it was his turn for a gigantic chill to thrill down his spine. One of the most terrifyingly nihilistic moments in his life had been distinctly related to Koromo’s monologue. Had she known? It only increased the possibility of false reality and that frightened him more.

“Koromo-sama…” he began. “When…when I was twenty-three, there was something that occurred in my bathroom that I will never forget. I had been living alone at the time. It was about four past midnight, I believe. I was roused from my deep sleep out of a need to urinate. I walked down the hall, swerved into my bathroom, turned the light on, locked the door just out obsessive compulsive measure. I did my business then strode over to the sink and before I could even turn the sink on to cleanse my hands I stared at my reflection and the most abysmal feeling of dread I had ever felt washed over me.”

Koromo said nothing.

“When I looked at that reflection, I wanted to fall to the ground and sob. I hadn’t seen a ghost, or anything. I hadn’t seen a hooded, masked apparition that was transparent. I hadn’t seen the mangled corpse of an innocent Victorian prostitute. No, Koromo-sama – what I saw was myself. Except it wasn’t myself – it was something grotesque, something inhuman. It wasn’t some abomination. It was me, but in that moment I saw something in myself that is beyond rational explanation. My reflection wasn’t me. It was someone else, a doppelganger if you will. Like a version of me staring at me through some other dimension, but it had no distinguishing features from me in the flesh. It wasn’t standing beside my own reflection – it was my own reflection. Just one single reflection and I swear to you Koromo that that reflection wasn’t me. To this day, and probably for the rest of my life I will never be able to explain what that was or what it meant. Never. I don’t like to think about it…but it pertains.”

“It’s so strange…” Koromo remarked. Her voice was quiet. “How long have we been sitting here, Hagiyoshi? Five minutes? Ten minutes? It’s felt like so long. But in such a short time – and even forever is a short time for this question – it is legitimately impossible to successfully probe the mystery of God, where we will go when we die, whether pain and life is an illusion, the creation of mankind and how mankind will end and answer that indefinite question “why?” in a mere ten minutes. In an eternity, even."