The girl gave up on the helper and began to brainstorm ways to fight barehanded. But the concept of martial arts did not yet exist in her mind. And even if it did, she had no one to learn from and no example to emulate.
Being blind was no disadvantage. She wasn’t going to fight her captors to escape—she simply wanted to destroy the monsters in her dreams.
Perhaps she could use the fact that she fought in her dreams to give herself magic or special powers. But even with her near-lucid state in her dreams, she could not train herself as she wished.
One reason was that she suspected monsters like the ones in her dreams might exist in the real world as well. So she needed a weapon she could also use in her waking world.
Change came again some time later.
As the girl thought late into the night, she heard a clang.
She reached over; she felt a cold, hard stick.
The helper must have heard her request.
“Thank you.”
The girl breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that she could use her voice, and grasped the stick.
It was only later that she understood that the weapon was a lead pipe the helper had snuck in from a junkyard.
Now the girl had a weapon from the waking world to help her fight her nightmares.
She began by swinging her unrefined stick.
She waited for the helper’s footsteps to grow distant so as to avoid hitting them—
—and she began to swing to her heart’s content.
Her movements were inelegant.
It looked like nothing more than the tantrums of a frustrated child. But it was a good start.
The lead pipe that had once been doomed to rust in a junkyard had given the girl a purpose.
And her heart once more fell into her dreams.
Half a year passed—
She fought her nightmares in her dreams.
In the darkness of reality, she swung and swung, and built up the strength to control her movements efficiently.
The sensation of swinging the lead pipe was burned into her body and mind, reflected in her dreams.
Each night in her nightmares she fought off the endless waves of monsters.
But as long as fear existed in her heart, the monsters knew no surrender. They sprouted up again and again.
Even faster.
Even heavier.
Even more grotesque.
The things she saw were, perhaps, not simply dreams. Perhaps they were delusions she had created. She dreamed about the same things to the point of curiosity, and each time she faced off against even stronger monsters.
At times, she was pierced by over a thousand tentacles.
At times, the monsters’ fingers stretched so quickly that they poked out her eyes.
At times, she was dissolved in the acid the monsters secreted.
When the girl woke up, her dreams engulfed by darkness, she thought to herself.
How could she beat them? How should she move? What should she do?
Those were the only thoughts on her mind. And she did as her conclusion dictated: train herself to move with the speed and force she desired.
Without any clear instructions on her training, she practiced with only her delusions as a guide.
She had plenty of chances to practice in the battles in her dreams.
The experiences in her delusions were compiled in her body, and the training from her times in the waking world put a framework to the experiences from her dreams.
But no matter how many times she defeated the darkness, each time she fell asleep yet new monsters arose in her dreams.
She did not give up.
Between the cycle of dreams and reality, the girl remembered what had happened half a year earlier.
Before the previous helper tried to take her away, she had said, “an adorable girl like you shouldn’t be here”.
The girl didn’t know if she really was adorable or not. and even if she did, it wouldn’t make a difference.
But she continued to fight in her dreams.
She had no way of knowing now where the helper had been trying to take her.
But she knew—even at her age, she understood.
That dreams were her last refuge now.
When she lost her dreams—when she gave up—she would truly disappear, along with her memories of her mother.
The monsters were not allowed to be there.
They were not adorable.
‘Go away.’
The monsters her mind created regenerated and grew endlessly.
But each time, they were destroyed by the magic wand in her hand.
Again and again and again and again.
So long as the darkness of reality was cast over her dreams.
So long as light existed in her dreams.
Eight and a half years later, somewhere on the island.
It had been nearly 24 hours since I escaped from the psycho in white.
I found myself in front of the TV at the fountain.
I thought I could meet that girl again if I came here.
But there wasn’t a big crowd of kids here today.
A few people with time on their hands stopped and stared at the screen. That was it.
This was a waste of time.
I decided to come back when the wrestling show was on again.
Although this TV doesn’t seem to have a programming schedule. Nobody knew when wrestling was gonna be on again.
With a sigh, I turned to leave—
But I stopped when I spotted a flash of white on the screen.
The DJ’s voice grew distant in my head. I was distracted.
The victim shown on the TV was wearing white flowers in her hair.
Did someone kill her?!
I ran over to the TV, drenched in cold sweat—
But she turned out to be someone else wearing the same flowers. She wasn’t the one I was looking for.
What a relief.
Almost jumped to conclusions there.
It wasn’t her.
I almost lost it when I thought the girl named Lilei was the victim.
…I really was obsessed with her.
What was going on?
Maybe leaving was the best choice. Forcing myself back to the mainland.
But I couldn’t.
I couldn’t ever go back to that company.
I had to spend the rest of my life here. I had to live with the strange reality that I was being attracted to a girl I’d glimpsed just once.
I decided to leave with a sigh, but the pirate radio playing from the screen and the speakers all over the island shook my thoughts again.
I felt something stir deep in my gut.
Villains were being killed.
That was nothing to get upset about.
I knew all too well that some injustices simply couldn’t be punished by the law.
So I wasn’t surprised vigilantes went after wanted criminals hiding on the island.
But there was no guarantee that onl
y bad people were murdered.
The girl I’m looking for—in the words of the psycho in white—had blood ties to a gang that controlled the island.
That alone raised the chances of her death.
…No.
In fact, it was reason enough for someone to want to kill her.
Seized by terror, I found myself running through the alleys.
I was headed for the roof of the building the kids led me to yesterday.
They said the interior was so full of junk it was impossible to navigate.
But I had to get there, even if it meant clearing that hurdle.
It was only when the possibility of her murder occurred to me—
—that I finally understood.
Why was I so drawn to her? Because she was completely pure.
That’s why she looked so familiar. Because I must have seen that same purity in another child on the mainland.
A girl like her didn’t belong on this island.
Someone had to rescue her from the malice lurking here.
It was the right thing to do.
I had no reservations in my heart.
This was how I felt when I revealed my company’s injustices.
The people of this island might have looked down on me. But I didn’t care.
I lost everything before I landed here. I had nothing more to lose.
Two hours later. The rooftop.
I was finally here.
Finally. I’d made it.
I crawled over haphazard heaps of trash, climbed mountains of junk, and sometimes crept between broken wires. No wonder people never came here, even to look for a place to sleep.
In other words, the girl was isolated.
I didn’t know how she got up here. Maybe there was a secret passageway.
But there was no time to look for one.
I was covered in scrapes and cuts, but there was no time to worry about that.
And now that I thought about it, that psycho in white was a problem.
I saw him climbing down from here.
He climbed the walls of the building. Like some kind of lunatic.
It was dangerous to be alone with a psycho like him.
She might have been safe now, but who knew what he might do one day?
And even before that, what if her mind broke?
Maybe it already was broken.
Then that was all the more reason to help her.
Who would help her? Obviously, me.
Because I wasn’t brought here by my own faults or wrongdoings.
I was exiled here for doing the right thing.
…Maybe I was acting self-righteous. But that didn’t matter.
Because…if I didn’t have any purpose at all, my mind would be the first thing crushed under the island’s weight.
By rescuing the girl, I wanted to rescue my mind.
I forced the rusted door open. A warm breeze stroked my face.
And there she was.
The door creaking must have surprised her. She looked at me.
But her eyes were the same as before. As if she were looking at the world from far away, from a world behind a glass wall.
“H-hey. …Nice to meet you…I guess?”
I didn’t know how to start. So I dusted myself off and smiled.
She didn’t smile or frown. She took a step toward me and spoke.
“…I see you. In front of TV. I hug children. You watch me.”
Her Japanese wasn’t very good. Maybe she really was from the Chinese gang.
I wondered how I should tell her about my wanting to help her escape this hellish island. About everything that led up that realization. I eventually decided to begin with a light chat.
I had to make sure we had no misunderstandings between us.
“Oh. Umm… Well…so you know. So I, uhh…don’t want any misunderstandings here. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I just want you to know that I’m not attracted to you. I’m not going to try and do anything to you!”
“…It is not interesting,” she mumbled, and took another step.
Damn it. How was I supposed to explain myself?
I wished I’d thought of something before I clambered here.
I didn’t see the gangsters who were supposed to be her family.
At that moment, I heard a gunshot.
“?!”
More followed. The gunshots shook the air.
I froze. But she was unfazed.
“Gunshots. It is below. It is no matter. It is Inui. It is Mr. Kugi. Kill enemy. Or each other.”
“Oh. Um. I…see?”
I had no idea who ‘Inui’ and ‘Mr. Kugi’ were but from the girl’s complete lack of fear I could tell she was not normal.
The island must have destroyed her mind.
I had to do something.
And what was going on down there? Why was there a shootout happening below?
At one point I had assumed that gunfire was part of daily life on the island. But the volunteer police seemed to be on top of things. I rarely ever heard gunshots in the Western District.
“H-hey. Get down so you don’t get hit by a stray bullet. Listen to me.”
I doubted that a girl standing in the middle of the rooftop would be hit by a stray bullet, but I had to figure out a way to start the conversation.
Without even an icebreaker in mind, I began by reaching out my right hand.
I had to show her that I meant no harm.
It was all right. She would trust me.
Because I was doing the right thing.
Clang.
I heard a metallic noise behind her.
She must have been dragging something around.
What was it? I could barely see her face, but the moonlight and the glow from the buildings hit the object and—
—at that moment, she flicked her right wrist.
And then, somehow the long object in her hand moved—faster than my eyes could follow—
Crunch.
It was completely different from the earlier sound.
At the same time, my body was shaken.
“Agah.”
I stuttered foolishly.
Why did I just…why…whaaaaaaa…?
What the hell.
I realized that my right wrist was limp—like it was a completely separate creature—and at that moment, I was overcome by pain.
“Wha…? Ah… GAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
I screamed. I howled.
The pain in my wrist ran up my arm and coursed through my body, and my own shrieking threatened to rupture my eardrums and tear my vocal cords.
And as though filling in the gaps—
Her gloomy voice echoed coldly against my ears.
“I see you. In front of TV.
“I should have. Should have kill you. Kill you then.”
~My Heart-Pounding Nap Diary~
_______ __th, 2021.
On rooftop.
Not-adorable person. It comes.
I kill. I did.
Seven years ago, somewhere on the artificial island.
Change came to her life about a year and a half after she began to battle her nightmares.
She had managed to conquer her nightmare for the day and was about to drift into a deep sleep—
She thought she heard angry voices from afar.
Then the sound of small blasts.
If her memories were correct, those were gunshots.
With that in mind, she slowly woke herself.
By then, a scream that seemed to curse the world had already shaken the darkness and faded away.
And in less than a minute, she heard the door crash open.
She felt someone cling to her. From the person’s weight she supposed it must have been her helper.
And from the way the helper shook, the girl supposed that they must have been terrified.
&
nbsp; She wondered if she should say something. But when she opened her mouth she realized that she was once again barely capable of speech.
At that point, she heard footsteps from the door.
“Turn out the lights. She’ll be in pain if it’s too bright.”
She heard a sharp voice.
The voice belonged to a young man. And it occurred to the girl that she had never heard the voice before.
“Making a second child with that whore…Father’s more careless than he lets on.”
The man grumbled under his breath, but the girl did not understand. Then he began to gingerly peel off the talismans from her eyelids. She thought he might tear them off by force, but he showed surprising care as he slowly removed the talismans.
Once they were off, the girl felt something on her face—it felt just like when her face was being washed.
But something was different this time. A strong-smelling liquid was applied to her eyelids, then carefully wiped away.
She finally noticed the unusual sensation on her face.
Her eyelids moved.
At first they barely opened, but as she lifted them little by little, she began to see the things she had only seen in her dreams.
“How does it feel to see light for the first time in years?”
He had said that the lights were off.
The only light in the room should have been the dim glow from the hallway.
But even that was too much for her.
The faint light hit her eyes and began to run wild.
It was like going outside after an all-nighter, but magnified a million times. Even the dim glow was excruciating for her eyes, for so long adjusted to darkness.
That her vision returned over the course of only a few minutes was perhaps thanks to the realistic dreams she had faced every night.
But it took her yet more minutes to finally be able to see.
Her eyes and her head still hurt. But she did not scream.
Her optic nerves remembered how to see and kicked the muscles around her eyes into action. Meanwhile, the young man spoke as though to himself.
05 - 5656! -Knights' Strange Night- Page 6
