2010-02-23, 07:15 PM
I stepped out of the classroom, shutting the door with one hand, and had taken a single step, when, from behind me,
“What were you talking to Hanekawa-san about?”
A voice asked.
I turned around.
As I turned, I was still unable to ascertain the identity of the person behind me – it was an unfamiliar voice. Though I had heard it before... That’s right, during class, it was that feeble voice that always answered “I don’t know” –
“Don’t move.”
From those two words alone, I realized that it was Senjougahara.
In the instant that I faced her squarely, I also realized that she had inserted a cutter-knife into my mouth, as if she had aimed for it, as if she had cut through space and time.
The blade of the cutter-knife was.
Touching the inside of my left cheek.
“!”
“Ah, let me correct myself. ‘You may move if you want to, but it’s dangerous’ would be more accurate in this situation.”
Though she had given me no allowance to move, it wasn’t yet violence, but on the verge of it – the blade was touching the inside of my cheek.
I stood, like a fool, mouth wide open, quivering, but frozen in place.
I’m afraid, I thought.
Not of the cutter-knife.
But of Senjougahara, who, whilst threatening me with a cutter-knife, stared at me coldly, unmoving. Had she –
Had I ever seen her wear such an insecure expression?
I’m confident now.
From Senjougahara’s eyes, I’m confident that, though she didn’t cut me, the side of the cutter-knife touching the inside of my left cheek was not the back of the blade.
“Your curiosity is like that of a cockroach – digging into people’s secrets persistently. It’s unbearingly irritating. You’ve touched my nerves, you boring excuse for a bug.”
“H-hey...”
“What’s wrong? Is your right cheek feeling lonely? You could have told me so in the first place.”
Senjougahara raised her left hand.
That swiftness of movement, as if she was going to slap me. I braced myself, but it didn’t come. No, that wasn’t it.
She was holding a stapler in her left hand.
Before I could ascertain the identity of the object, she had already slipped it into my mouth. Of course, she didn’t put the entire stapler into my mouth, but held it in a way that suggested that she was going to staple my right cheek – as if she was going to bind something, she put it into my mouth.
And, loosely, she pressed down.
As if she was going to staple something.
“…ah”
“What were you talking to Hanekawa-san about?”
A voice asked.
I turned around.
As I turned, I was still unable to ascertain the identity of the person behind me – it was an unfamiliar voice. Though I had heard it before... That’s right, during class, it was that feeble voice that always answered “I don’t know” –
“Don’t move.”
From those two words alone, I realized that it was Senjougahara.
In the instant that I faced her squarely, I also realized that she had inserted a cutter-knife into my mouth, as if she had aimed for it, as if she had cut through space and time.
The blade of the cutter-knife was.
Touching the inside of my left cheek.
“!”
“Ah, let me correct myself. ‘You may move if you want to, but it’s dangerous’ would be more accurate in this situation.”
Though she had given me no allowance to move, it wasn’t yet violence, but on the verge of it – the blade was touching the inside of my cheek.
I stood, like a fool, mouth wide open, quivering, but frozen in place.
I’m afraid, I thought.
Not of the cutter-knife.
But of Senjougahara, who, whilst threatening me with a cutter-knife, stared at me coldly, unmoving. Had she –
Had I ever seen her wear such an insecure expression?
I’m confident now.
From Senjougahara’s eyes, I’m confident that, though she didn’t cut me, the side of the cutter-knife touching the inside of my left cheek was not the back of the blade.
“Your curiosity is like that of a cockroach – digging into people’s secrets persistently. It’s unbearingly irritating. You’ve touched my nerves, you boring excuse for a bug.”
“H-hey...”
“What’s wrong? Is your right cheek feeling lonely? You could have told me so in the first place.”
Senjougahara raised her left hand.
That swiftness of movement, as if she was going to slap me. I braced myself, but it didn’t come. No, that wasn’t it.
She was holding a stapler in her left hand.
Before I could ascertain the identity of the object, she had already slipped it into my mouth. Of course, she didn’t put the entire stapler into my mouth, but held it in a way that suggested that she was going to staple my right cheek – as if she was going to bind something, she put it into my mouth.
And, loosely, she pressed down.
As if she was going to staple something.
“…ah”