Perfection is a fool's errand

The cold stares of my classmates pierced through me the moment I entered the classroom, though I was unsure if that was in part because of the unusual sight of Ran and I entering together. Though, notably absent from the lineup was the particular pink haired girl I was worried about. That wasn’t entirely unusual, she did tend to show up later than myself, but I was silently glad that trend hadn’t been broken.

Cowardly though it seems, I felt as if it made more sense for me to leave the choice of whether to speak in class up to her, since she’d be the one suffering far greater social consequences from prying eyes and pricked ears. If I was already sat down when she got here, the choice falls to her. She wants to talk? The floor is open to her. She doesn’t want to talk? She’s welcome to walk right past me. Choice is both a burden and a freedom, and in this instance, I felt it was up to her to shoulder both. The result was irrelevant to me.

Still, what I wasn’t expecting was for her to not show up for first period at all that day. I wasn’t in her class for second and third, so I’m not sure if she made it to either of them, but by the time lunch rolled around I had yet to catch a glimpse of her. Perhaps my dread at seeing her has been a monkey’s paw: it turned out that not seeing her stressed me out far more.

Unfortunately, however, there was hardly a thing I could do. I shot her a couple of text messages, which went unanswered, and I asked the teacher if she had called in sick (a question that was answered with an irritated ‘no’), but outside of that I had no steps to take. What else could I do, walk to her house during school time to check up on her? I’m sure that’d go over swimmingly.

No, instead at the advent of lunch time I retreated to the same comfortable burrow as I did every day: Sai and I’s meeting spot.

Before the unspoken tradition of our shared lunch, I detested the walk to this particular spot, and I avoided it unless I had exhausted all other options. And little had changed with the actual walk itself. The walls were still covered in graffiti, the students were still wrecking the place, and the teachers were still nowhere to be seen. If anything, the place itself had gotten worse. But the quiet comfort of Sai’s company was more than enough to justify the unpleasant walk.

As had become usual for us, I arrived to find her already sat eating, we greeted each other with little more than a nod of the head, and I quietly sat down beside her, ready to dig in to my own lunch. I’m sure many would see such an arrangement as awkward, but neither of us ever expressed any desire to change it, nor did I ever feel it needed to be changed.

Company in which you can enjoy conversation is valuable. Company in which you can enjoy silence is irreplaceable.

Unfortunately, however, today was not one of the days where I felt I could comfortably sit at her side in silence. Though Pep was the main source of my anxieties, Sai had been there in the flesh yesterday during my… episode. Not to mention, she seemed to understand my mentality better than anyone else alive, other than maybe Yaki. If there’s anyone who’s opinion on this entire fiasco was worth listening to, it was her. Which is why, as I sat and silently ate my lunch, questions nagged at me. Questions I really felt I should ask, and yet felt I had no right to.

It was the first time I had felt so hesitant to talk to Sai since our first lunch together, all the way back in the week when she and I first met. That was just another thing to put in perspective how heavily this whole situation was weighing on my mind.

“If you’ve something to say, say it clearly,” she said, rather suddenly.

“I’m sorry?”

“It irritates me to watch you squirm and hesitate. I have judged you to be many things, but a coward too scared to speak his mind has never been one of them. Do not make me reevaluate my judgement. Tell me what troubles you.”

Despite my poor mood, I almost cracked a smile as she spoke. To anyone else I’m sure it’d sound like she’s nagging at best and outright bullying me at worst, but I knew Sai better than that. This was her way of telling me I could talk freely, and she’d listen.

“It’s just… the whole debacle from yesterday is weighing on me a tad.”

“That much is obvious. I would be rather perturbed if it wasn’t on your mind.”

“Yeah, guess that much is pretty much a no-brainer. Pep hasn’t been in at all today, and I’m worried it’s my fault, at least partially. That whole thing was… just such a mess.”

“A mess it was, though no fault falls to you in my eyes. You spoke in defence of a loved one, not on some selfish whim. Blame falls on the cruel and childish who pushed Peppi to tears in the first place.”

“I know, I know. But… I dunno, I feel like my outburst was more a selfish attempt at catharsis than anything really defensible. I was pissed, I wanted to release that anger, so I hijacked Pep’s stream to do it. While she was still in frame, even. I can’t help but feel that my need to vent has come round to bite her instead of me. Hell, if I was in her position, I sure as hell wouldn’t wanna show up to school, and I definitely wouldn’t wanna see my face there.”

Sai, who usually has a retort or witticism for every word I said, surprisingly sank into a contemplative silence at my words. Though, with the way she blankly looked ahead and quietly muttered to herself, I could tell she knew the message she wanted to send and was thinking of how to most eloquently deliver it. It was a habit of hers, and one I related to. Misinterpretation is frustrating, so taking every available step to avoid it was natural, even if it could grind the pace of a conversation to halt.

“...Kaburi, do you recall our recent conversation in the city? About human understanding?”

“Of course. It was only a couple days ago, despite how it feels.”

“During that conversation, you said that every person on the planet, no matter how well you believe you understand them, has hidden depths that you have never and will never see. That you will continue to discover new things until all that’s left to discover is that you can know nothing further.”

“Yeah, I remember saying something like that. What about it?”

“I believe that yesterday I saw one such hidden depth in you that I had never observed before. At least not with mine own eyes.” She took a short swig of her drink before continuing, as if carefully considering how to continue. “I had known, of course, that your rejection of human relationships was mere bluster, at least in part. Your friendship with Peppi was more than enough to make that clear. And… I’d like to think your friendship with myself proved a similar point.” Despite outwardly maintaining her composure, her voice wavered just slightly, and her cheeks tinged the mildest red as she quietly placed a hand over her chest. “That being said,” she continued, “yesterday was something I had never seen from you myself. Fierce, unrelenting loyalty to a loved one. Even bordering on overprotectiveness.”

“I’m not overprotective, I’m just…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish my own sentence. Looking at my relationship with Pep, maybe overprotective was the right word. I certainly worried about her more than I worried about myself, unhealthy though that may be.

“Mistake me not, I mean not to attack you. Rather, I see it as one of your most admirable traits,” Sai said, shaking her head momentarily. “An imperfection, perhaps, but perfection is a fools errand regardless. My point is simply this: what you call a selfish desire for catharsis is rooted in loyalty to those you love. You claim you spoke in anger, not defence, but your anger came from your protectiveness of Peppi. An altruistic motivation, would you not say?”

“I guess, but I shouldn’t have jumped in there just to satisfy myself.”

“Perhaps not, but in doing so you severed the connection between Peppi and the source of her pain,” she reasoned. “If we follow your line of reasoning far enough, it could be said that no good deed is truly selfless. Every kind act, from charity to heroics, are all in some part motivated by some self satisfaction or desire. But indulging a desire is not itself selfish. Rather, to choose the desires in which you indulge by the way they relate to others is the only true selflessness man can achieve. You saw a person you cared about in distress, and the desire you chose to act upon was the desire to protect her from her further harm and seek retribution from her transgressors. An act made to satisfy personal desire? Perhaps. But a selfish act? I doubt any could argue as such. No, when a friend is being mistreated, the true most selfish act is to turn a blind eye and not act at all. As… I did.”

Sai averted her gaze downwards with shame, and I realised it wasn’t just me that was regretting the handling of yesterday’s events. While my action was impulsive, Sai instead failed to act at all. It was an understandable reaction: you’ve been pulled into an arena you’re unfamiliar with, and now the friend who pulled you into it is suffering due to the things you yourself still don’t understand. I think most people would freeze up in that situation. Logically speaking, there was little shame in feeling out of your depth.

But guilt rarely adhered to logic.

“Come on, you were way in over your head. No one could blame you for not knowing what to do.”

“To do anything at all is still preferable to doing nothing whatsoever. The most cowardly choice is to not choose at all, and that is what I chose. I left Peppi to suffer and you to carry the burden. I failed even to speak. It was a pathetic showing.”

“You didn’t know what to do so you avoided making the situation worse by getting involved. It was probably the right choice. You can’t be prepared for everything, Sai.”

“And in many situations, I would accept such an excuse with grace. But to fail to act when a friend is in pain due to the actions of another? That is not sensibility, but cowardice. Peppi has assisted me on so many occasions, and yet I cannot even defend her from the words of faceless verbal assailants. I… cannot fairly return all that she has given to me.”

Though no direct mention was made, it was clear what she was alluding to. Her difficulty with debt and gratitude wasn’t just from this one event, but her entire relationship with Pep.

I could tell immediately, because I often struggled with the same feeling.

“You don’t control how you feel, y’know,” I said, though knowing I’m terrible at comforting people.

“I am aware. And as such, though I know it unreasonable, I cannot control the guilt I feel.”

“I suppose I have no counter to that. But if you stew and wallow over not being able to return her feelings, you’re just gonna strain the relationship you already have with her. Don’t lose a friendship over unwarranted guilt and imagined debt, okay?”

“...thank you. I will do what I can to preserve my friendship with Peppi. With open communication, not quiet guilt.”

Though Sai thanked me for my advice, I’m not sure who I was really saying it to: her, or myself.