The Violent Angel

I love you.

What would you need to do to hear those words? How would you need to feel to say them?

That’s something I don’t know.

Nor is it something I’ll ever find out.

My name is Shun Kagami. I’d like to call myself a lesser background character. You know, one of those you always see sitting in the corner of a classroom, barely noticed.

That’s been my whole life. And it was fitting for someone like me, with no dreams or goals.

Yet it all ended so quickly when I met that black-haired girl.

That day, the morning air was cold and tasted of salt. The sky was gloomy and dark, mirroring the way I felt walking along the beach without a destination. My footprints behind me vanished with the gentle flow of the tide.

Life felt like a chore I couldn’t wait to be done with.

My eyes were heavy. I felt tired, as if the sea might wash away not just my footprints but everything I felt inside.

I should just end it…

Stopping in my tracks, I turned toward the ocean. Yes. It was for the best. Without someone like me, the world would probably be a better place. Without me, mother would…

> “Why are you so useless?! If you weren’t born, I would still have my dream!”

Her words replayed in my mind. Her disgusted gaze looped over and over like a broken videotape. My chest ached as I pressed my hands to it. My eyes burned as tears began to fall.

I didn’t want to die. But I could see it, the smile on mother’s face if I were to leave the world.

She wouldn’t even notice I was gone. Realizing that, my heart grew steady, my mind calm. I meant nothing. I was nothing. If my name could at least appear in the news once, I’d be glad. Then mother would finally look at me. Then she would finally pay attention at my funeral.

Then she would finally tell me…

“I love you…”

My eyes widened as I glanced over my shoulder. The world seemed to slow, bells chiming faintly in the distance. There she walked, a girl flipping through a book. Her black hair swayed subtly as she turned her attention toward me. Her eyes were blue, like the sky, and her cheeks were tinged pink.

That moment was fleeting. Her gaze, which seemed to see through me, lasted only for a second before she continued walking past.

Yet my hand moved on its own, and I grabbed her arm. The book fell onto the sand.

That was my mistake.

She hit me with pepper spray, startling me. My eyes burned, but not as much as I’d feared, probably because my hair always covered them.

And that wasn’t all. She slapped me across the cheek and kicked me in the crotch as I collapsed onto the sand. Pain coursed through my body as if every inch were under attack.

“Pervert,” the girl said, lifting my chin with her black boot. “I’ll remember your face.”

She picked up her book, wet, or dry? I couldn’t remember, nor did I care.

Why was she so masterful with her moves? As if she had done this many times before. And why remember my face?

After retrieving her book, she began to walk away. I couldn’t let her leave. There was something I wanted to ask her, something I needed to know. I called out through the pain.

“W-Wait!”

She didn’t stop. I was ignored completely. My body ached, yet I couldn’t help but chuckle as I lay on the cold sand, staring at the sea.

An angel. That’s what she was. Truly beautiful. And those eyes, they resembled mine. Kind, yet cold.

My heart pounded. My chest and face burned. I should’ve asked for her name…

“I love you, huh,” I whispered.

Even though I knew her words weren’t meant for me, even though I knew she was reading from a script, my pulse refused to calm. For the first time, the world didn’t feel gloomy. Sunlight spilled through the clouds.

But the thing that made me truly happy was the pain beneath my cheek. Almost as if I were lying on a small object.

Lifting myself to sit upright, my heart skipped a beat. A bell lay in the sand. I picked it up, sand slipping through my fingers. It was the one she’d worn on her wrist, probably fell when I grabbed her hand.

A name was etched onto the bell.

“Shizuka.”

I didn’t know if it was hers, or someone else’s. But one thing I did know: as long as I carried this bell, we would meet again. Finally, I had something to look forward to.

The girl named “Violent Angel,” who had caused me more physical pain than I had ever known, had also stirred something I had never felt before, a warm sensation bubbling in my chest.

Standing up and dusting sand from my clothes, I walked the other direction, still in pain, hoping to see her once more.

That wish would be granted sooner than I expected, when I turned seventeen and took the entrance exam to the prestigious arts and crafts academy:

Geishō.