Planet: Chapter 4 - part 1

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I heard a creaking sound. Creak, creak. I could see a shaved head and dark clothes. …Is that Kan-san? I rubbed my eyes, but he didn’t disappear. Kan-san was there, walking. He didn’t go back to his star after all. Oh, thank goodness.

My nose itched, and I let out a big sneeze, “Achoo!” A sharp pain shot through my butt, and my stomach clenched and quivered.

“Oh, you’re awake?” Kan-san was looking my way.

“Yes… welcome back.” He was silent for a moment, so I thought he hadn’t heard me. I said, “Welcome back” again, and in a soft voice, he replied, “I’m home.”

“Were you taking a nap, Mura? Though it’s almost evening.”

Evening… is it? Behind Kan-san, the window was tinted a sunset orange.

“I got a bento at the station. Is that okay for dinner?”

Just hearing “bento” made my stomach growl.

“Yes, I’d love to eat.” Ah, it’s good to have Kan-san around. A proper meal actually shows up.

“Are you going to eat now? It’s a little early for dinner, but, well, I’m hungry too.” Kan-san placed a plastic bag on the table. That must be the bento. I crawled out of the sleeping bag, and a sharp pain throbbed through my butt. The sneeze earlier had made it hurt again. It seemed too painful to stand, so I crawled on all fours. Kan-san was watching me and looked down when our eyes met.

“You’re… not wearing clothes?” he asked, still looking down.

“They got dirty.”

“So your other clothes are in the wash? Well, here, I’ll lend you something of mine.” Kan-san went behind the rust-colored curtain. As I tried to sit, I felt a warm sensation trickling down between my legs. When I touched it, my hand came away red.

“What? Blood?”

Kan-san’s voice, loud with surprise, came from behind the curtain as he came closer. “Did you hurt your hand?”

“My hand doesn’t hurt.”

“Then where is that blood from?”

“My butt… hurts.”

Kan-san went behind me, then came back around.

“Could it be that you have… hemorrhoids, Mura-san?”

I’d heard of hemorrhoids before. There was a guy at work who complained his butt hurt every time he had to use the bathroom. It hurt even without going to the bathroom, though… this might be it. Kan-san was probably right.

“Yes.”

“I see…” Kan-san grabbed his phone, tapping away at the screen. Then he said, “I’ll step out for a bit,” and left. The warm sensation continued, and every time I dabbed at it with tissues, they came back red. I stuffed some tissue between my cheeks to stop the bleeding. After a while, Kan-san returned.

He had come back with underwear and a package that looked like a small box of snacks. When he opened it, it was full of little folded packets. Inside each was something that looked like a folded-up handkerchief. Kan-san placed one vertically in the crotch of the underwear.

“I looked it up online, and when hemorrhoids are bad, using a pad like this helps keep your underwear clean. It might feel weird, but at least until it settles down…”

He handed me the underwear with the pad in place. The pad felt soft under my fingers, and it had a nice, faintly sweet scent. It smelled like freshly washed clothes. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent until Kan-san said, “You should put it on soon,” and I did. The crotch felt a bit stiff, but where it pressed against my butt was soft. Kan-san’s things are always gentle. When I peeked inside, I noticed a bit of blood on the pad, but the underwear itself was clean. The pad absorbed it. This is nice.

“I bought a whole pack, so if it gets dirty, you can change it.”

“Thank you.”

I put on the clothes Kan-san lent me and sat down at the table. Moving hurt, but the soft part pressing against my butt felt good.

“I was going to get medicine, too, but didn’t know which type to buy.”

“Sleeping will make it go away.”

“If it gets worse, you should see a doctor… though, you didn’t go when your leg was hurt either.”

“Well, let’s eat,” Kan-san said as he opened the bento. It wasn’t see-through like the convenience store ones. When he opened the lid, there was a colorful spread inside, and it looked delicious. Oh, fried chicken! Yes!

“Thank you for the meal.”

I clasped my hands together, then snapped the chopsticks apart. The yellow part was tamagoyaki. Soft and sweet. The fried chicken had a nice garlic scent—so good. Just yesterday, or maybe the day before, all I could think about was how hungry I was. But with Kan-san around, all that stuff just disappears. It’s amazing.

“The bento is delicious,” I said.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied.

Kan-san was on the other side of the table. This is how I want things to be. I saved the umeboshi (pickled plum) for last, popped it in my mouth, and spat the pit into the empty bento box. It slid right out and fell onto the floor, I pick it up and say, “Ah,” and then I hear Kan-san chuckle. He’s laughing.

“Is it funny?”

Kan-san covered his mouth with his hand, holding back another chuckle. “Oh, it just made me think of something funny.”

The chopsticks in his hand shook a little.

“Everything feels so different,” he said.

“Different?”

“Coming back here and immediately going out to buy sanitary pads—it was beyond anything I’d expected.”

Kan-san laughed again. I wonder if he enjoyed the shopping trip that much?

“My father passed away,” he said quietly.

Passed away? That means… he died. Kan-san’s father died. Death… dying. The guy at work who fell—they all said he was dead. He was covered in blood, looked like he was in pain. A shiver ran down my spine.

“When I got back, he was already unconscious. He’d been hanging on by a thread for about a week. Things seemed to be getting better, and then the very next day…” Kan-san exhaled a deep breath and said, “It was over in an instant.”

I’d heard that word, “in an instant,” before—like something ended all of a sudden, or broke. Someone had said that about the guy who died on the job. It was a lonely sort of feeling. This was the same.

“There was always a big gap between my father’s values and mine, and that was hard to deal with. But by keeping our distance, I thought we’d found some way to handle it. Then I was forced to face the reality of his death—that nothing would change now. The past stays as it was, no progress, no resolution. Just the reality of what was.”

I didn’t get what he was saying, but I could feel his sadness. I’d feel sad if my father died, too. Just thinking he was dead when he wasn’t had felt terrible. My eyes grew hot, and tears trickled down my cheeks.

“That’s so sad.”

“He was sick. It couldn’t be helped.”

“I mean… it’s sad that you’re hurting, Kan-san.”

For a while, Kan-san was silent.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not exactly sadness, more like a sense of emptiness, maybe. And being busy with the funeral and cleaning out the family house… that feeling started to fade a bit.”

“Losing the chance to see your dad anymore must be awful.”

“If things go the usual way, parents pass first.”

The tamagoyaki Kan-san had been holding with his chopsticks slipped out and landed on the floor. He picked it up and set it on the bento lid.

“These days, it’s like ‘My father died’ is something that just lingers around me, like smoke,” he said slowly.

Kan-san didn’t smoke, so why mention smoke? Maybe someone nearby had been smoking, and it bothered him.

He put down his chopsticks. There was still food left in the bento, but it seemed he was done eating.

“It’s been the same since I came back here. Not that I’d call it unpleasant… I guess it’s just how people feel in times like these.”

Then, after a moment’s pause, he continued, “But when I was talking with you, that feeling just vanished in an instant.”

“Is that… a good thing?”

“It’s not a matter of good or bad… but I feel lighter.”

“Then it’s a good thing.”

Kan-san chuckled, saying, “Mura, you’re the strongest person I know,” then leaned back, looking up.

“When I went back home, my relatives asked what I planned to do with my life. But I haven’t got any big plans—I’ll probably end up as a full-time employee at my part-time job. Working, carving… just repeating that. There might be a chance I’ll get some recognition, or maybe not. Who knows? My family can’t seem to imagine a life like that.”

It sounded like his relatives wanted him to be a full-time employee, and that’s probably a good thing, but Kan-san’s voice held a tinge of disdain.

“That’s nice,” I said.

Kan-san looked at me and asked, “Is it?”

“Being a full-time employee is nice. Only people who really have it together can become one.”

In construction, the ones who get offered full-time positions are those who are skilled, the ones everyone calls “capable” or “fast workers.” Kan-san chuckled again and looked down, saying, “If everyone in the world were like you, Mura, it’d be a peaceful place.”

“Even if you live your life without bothering anyone, if you don’t show concrete results or a somewhat conventional path, people—especially parents—start to worry. That’s how it goes in the world I know,” he said, with a wry smile.

Today, Kan-san was talking a lot. I was trying to follow his words, but while I was thinking through their meaning, he’d keep moving forward. I’d get lost, left wondering what it all meant.

“It’s not a big deal… Oh, it’s falling again.”

Even though he said that, there was nothing falling around him. Kan-san swatted the air in front of his face like he was brushing something away.

“Have you been out on-site? You must’ve been short on money, right? Was food okay while I was gone?”

…Yes, I had been on-site. When Kanabe-san told me my father was dead, it had hurt, so I ran.

“What did you do, Mura?”

What did I do? I ran out of money, I was hungry, so I went to the movie theater, where some guy stuck his penis in me. My butt ended up sore. That guy… he was awful. Then I went to the convenience store, but couldn’t pay… that old man there was nice, though.

“I got an onigiri at a convenience store.”

“You didn’t buy it, you got it?”

“Yes.”

“For free?”

“I said I’d pay, but he gave it to me.”

“I’m not sure how that happened… oh, maybe it was just past its expiration, so they gave it out. Anyway, I kept the leftovers in the fridge just in case.”

Kan-san finished the last of his meal and cleared away the empty bento box. There was nothing left on the table. It was just like before, as if the time Kan-san had been away didn’t exist. He sat next to me, watching TV like he used to. Everything was the same as before, yet somehow different. I kept wondering about it, thinking it over, and then it clicked. The dark wood.

“Want to work on carving the wood?”

Kan-san rested his chin on the table and said, “Not today.”

“With how things are right now, it’s better if I don’t.”

“I see.”

“It’s like tiny scratches, little nicks from words or reality—like a cat’s claws, leaving these small marks that gradually wear down your mind. Slowly, you get more fragile, until one little word just shatters you. I remember seeing someone like that a long time ago. Watching it happen to someone else… now, I feel like I’m in the same place, and it’s rough.”

I tried to figure out what he meant by “little,” but he kept talking, and the words piled up until they turned into sound, something distant. I got “cat” and “break,” but not the rest. I tried connecting the parts I understood to piece it together, like a puzzle. Maybe Kan-san doesn’t like cats? But breaking from that kind of dislike seems harsh.

People who are harsh are usually angry. Is Kan-san angry? Maybe it’s because of his father’s death. If someone told me my father was dead, I’d feel angry. But more than that, I’d feel sad. It would hurt so much.

I went over to Kan-san and sat close, right beside him. He took a deep breath, turning his eyes to look at me, his gaze following my every move.

“…You’re close.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you sticking so close to me?”

“When you’re sad, it’s good to be close to someone.”

“…I see.”

Kan-san closed his eyes and stayed still. The TV is pretty interesting. The places where our shoulders, our sides, and our legs touch feel warm.

I once had a stray cat, really friendly, that curled up on my lap and was so warm. Back when I lived in the apartment with Mom and Dad, if something bothered me, I’d snuggle up to Mom. She was warm, and she smelled sweet.

Being close is nice. That guy who put his penis in me, even though he was close, I hated it. My butt hurt. Being close without doing anything—that’s good. Yeah, that’s nice.

Kan-san smells like Kan-san. Like his room. It’s nice. I can hear his breathing, slow and steady, like he’s asleep. Maybe he is.

I had to go to the bathroom. When I pulled down my pants, I noticed a little blood on the pad I’d put down there. Just a bit, so I left it and walked out of the bathroom. Kan-san, who had been asleep, was awake, facing my direction, and gave a little yawn.

I sat across the table from him. Kan-san looked at me. He kept looking at me, or maybe he was just staring. The area around my arm felt cool. Before, it was warm because Kan-san was next to me. Now that he’s moved, it’s not warm anymore. It feels kind of lonely, even though he’s right there.

“Aren’t you coming over here?”

Kan-san spoke up. Maybe he’s still sad? Should I sit next to him? I went over and sat close, snug against him. That lonely feeling faded away. Kan-san lowered his gaze, sitting still, not breathing like he’s asleep anymore.

“…I’m sorry if it seemed like I was pushing you into anything.”

“I like it here, too.”

Then, slowly, Kan-san slumped forward onto the table, burying his face in his arms and scratching his head.

“I think I’m going to bed. You can keep watching TV if you want; I don’t mind the sound.”

Kan-san slowly got up and went to bed. He went to sleep fast. Maybe he’s tired. I always want to sleep right away when I’m tired, too.

There’s nothing interesting on TV. I change the channel, hoping for something funny with people bouncing around or falling.

I heard a sniffle, like someone wiping their nose. Kan-san was covering his eyes with his hand. When I got closer, I saw his eyes were red, and tears were streaming from between his fingers.

“Are your eyes hurting?”

“…They don’t hurt.”

If they don’t hurt, why is he crying? Ah, I see.

“Are you sad?”

“I didn’t cry even at the funeral, you know? I guess I’ve just been holding it in. But seeing you, Mura… it’s like something just let go.”

Tears kept falling from his eyes. Oh, Kan-san is sad. His dad passed away, and he’s feeling it now. Poor guy. I reached out and patted his head. His hair felt prickly against my palm, even rougher than Maron, the dog we had back in the dorm.

Eventually, Kan-san’s tears stopped, and his hiccups settled down. I let go, thinking he was okay, but then he grabbed my wrist. His grip wasn’t very strong.

“…Would you like to sleep in my bed?”

The bed is soft. Once, when Kan-san wasn’t around, I tried rolling around on it. If I sleep in his bed, though, what will Kan-san do?

“Kan-san, are you going to sleep in a sleeping bag?”

“Oh, no… I mean, like, in the same bed.”

Kan-san’s lips moved slightly.

“With both of us, it’d be pretty cramped.”

“Yeah, true,” he said, letting go of my hand. Even though the bed’s small, Kan-san seems to want to sleep together. Sometimes I slept with Mom, too. I wonder why I did that.

“Do you want someone to be close to?”

Kan-san’s face went red.

“When I was feeling down, I slept with Mom.”

Kan-san closed his eyes. His expression looked really sweet, so I got into the bed. He scooted toward the wall, but because the bed was small, our bodies touched.

“It’s a bit cramped.”

“…Yeah, it is,” Kan-san said, lying down facing the wall and turning his back to me. That made it a little less cramped. So I lay down too, snuggling up to him. There was a gentle scent of Kan-san. The spots where we touched were warm. It felt nice.

Kan-san lifted his arm to his face. On the inside of his arm, I could see circles, triangles, and a galaxy of moons. Ah, it’s a universe. Kan-san’s universe. When I touched it, Kan-san gave a soft gasp.

So warm, warmer than the cat that used to sit on my lap. Maybe that’s why Mom and Dad used to sleep together too. It feels so good. Being near Kan-san is gentle and nice.

When you’re close with someone, it’s nice to sleep together. It’s cramped, but it feels so good. That must be why Mom and Dad always slept together. I thought about how nice that was, and as I did, I drifted off to sleep. …Then, something rustled near my head, and I wondered if Kan-san was touching me. But I was so sleepy, my eyes wouldn’t open.

…I was on an unsteady platform, and it was dark. No light at all. I couldn’t see well, and it felt dangerous, like I could fall. Then suddenly, the platform crumbled beneath me, and I fell. Falling from high up—that means I’ll die, I’ll die…

“Ahhh!”

There was a thud against my back. The ceiling was there above me—a familiar ceiling.

“Mura-san?”

Kan-san’s face appeared above me. The room was bright. The platform was gone. Where did it go?

“Are you okay? Did you hit anything?”

I’d fallen onto the tatami. This was Kan-san’s room. I’d been on-site… Ah, it must have been a dream. Just a dream. I’m glad it was just a dream. Kan-san climbed down from the bed.

“The platform collapsed.”

“What?”

“It was a dream.”

“…That must’ve been scary.”

“I’m glad it was just a dream.”

As I sat up, there was a dull ache in my back. Just a bit. I tried to reach it with my hand, but couldn’t.

“I guess the bed was a little cramped after all.”

Kan-san’s hand rested on my shoulder, and he gently patted it.

“My back hurts.”

When I said that, he patted my back, too. He kept patting me when I moved closer. I felt so happy. The patting stopped, and I looked up to find Kan-san watching me.

“Want to sleep a bit more?”

Kan-san scooted to the edge of the bed. It was morning, but I wanted to stay close a little longer, so I climbed back into the bed. But it was still cramped.

“I feel like I might fall off.”

“You’ll be fine if you’re close.”

Kan-san’s voice was soft. I cuddled against his back like I did at night, and then he turned to face me. Facing him was fine, but his face was really close. His hand came up and lightly touched my cheek, tracing along it with his fingers.

"Do you want to carve?"

"Carve?"

"When you touch something, are you carving it?"

"Oh, I see. But maybe not right now."

Kan-san pressed his palms against my cheeks, holding my face close. As I looked at him, our foreheads bumped together. That bump felt funny, so I laughed, and Kan-san said, “Your laugh’s a bit weird,” then bumped foreheads again. Kan-san chuckled with a “haha,” and I laughed with a “heh.” “Heh, haha,” we laughed, bumping foreheads, and after a while, our mouths bumped too. I laughed again, but Kan-san didn’t laugh back; instead, he looked down. I wondered why he wasn’t laughing, thinking he should smile, so I waited for him to laugh. Eventually, I got curious and reached out to touch Kan-san’s head. His short hair feels rough, like sandpaper. It feels nice. I leaned closer, and Kan-san’s scent filled my nose.

“What are you doing?”

“You smell like Kan-san-san. I like it.”

He smelled so nice, and the bed was soft. We both drifted off to sleep again. My stomach growled, but staying here in bed, cuddled up with Kan-san, felt better than getting something to eat.

Top of Form

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When Kan-san came back, everything got better. I spend my days lying around, watching TV. Kan-san goes to his part-time job, then comes back and carves my face. It’s there in the dark wood, with my features clearly taking shape. I thought he was finished, but he keeps carving around my face. When he touches the wooden figure, something stirs within me, like a faint tickle on my face, even though he’s not touching me at all. It’s strange.

Kan-san is always nearby. Before bed, he asks, “Shall we sleep together?” and I reply, “Yes,” climbing into Kan-san’s bed. He’s warm and has a comforting scent. He feels like family—like being with my mother and father.

On days off, Kan-san doesn’t get up in the morning. So, I stay asleep with him, too. But eventually, my stomach rumbles, and I think it’s time to get up. That’s when Kan-san stirs, saying, “It’s past noon; let’s get up,” and he swings his legs out of bed. He steps over me, murmuring, “Excuse me,” and asks, “Will cup ramen be okay?”

“It’s cold in here.”

I notice Kan-san shiver slightly, pulling on a jacket. Now that he’s out of bed, there’s an empty, chilly space where he used to be.

He places the cup ramen on the table, pouring hot water into it. Afterward, he glances my way and gestures, “Won’t you come out?”

“It’s cold.”

“It’s not quite cold enough for the heater, you know?”

“It’s cold without you here.”

Kan-san chuckles, “Come on out.” So, I do.

“When you eat something warm, you’ll feel warm inside,” he says.

I know that already. On-site, too, a hot meal makes you feel warm from the stomach out. I pick up the chopsticks at the table, and the ramen is hot, so I blow on it before taking a bite. It’s delicious. “Thanks for the meal,” I say, and Kan-san places his chopsticks atop the empty ramen cup. They slip off and roll onto the floor. As he crouches to pick them up, he shifts his shoulder and reaches under the bed, pulling out a square object. He flips it around a few times.

“…Is this yours, Mura-san?” he asks, showing it to me. I take it and look, and I see my mother’s face. It’s my mother’s DVD. Ah, right. I haven’t paid for it yet. I should’ve returned it to the uncle right away, but I forgot. There’s no police here, so it should be okay… but I’ll return it tomorrow. I need to keep it where I can see it, so I won’t forget. I place it on the TV shelf; here, I won’t lose track of it.

Kan-san clears away the empty cup ramen and sits across from me. He glances over at the TV. It’s off, though.

“What’s that?”

I don’t know what he means, but he’s pointing at the TV.

“It’s a TV.”

“No, I meant that DVD from before…”

Ah, right. I was about to say it was my mother’s DVD, but since she’s married and doing something intimate with a man who isn’t my father, I can’t say that. It’s something I shouldn’t talk about, so I just say, “It’s an adult DVD.”

“Did you buy it?”

“No, I didn’t buy it.”

I brought it without paying. Does that make me a thief? I wonder if Kan-san thinks I’m a thief.

“I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“You borrowed it?”

“Yes.”

Kan-san falls silent. Is the conversation over? I feel relieved. I don’t want to be thought of as a thief. It’s always been that way, even in the dorm. I’d hate for Kan-san to dislike me, so I don’t want him to think of me as a thief. I want to return it soon—then I won’t be a thief anymore.

“Did you watch it?” he asks.

“Watch what?”

“That DVD.”

“I didn’t watch it.”

Kan-san stands up and heads to the kitchen. He’s more restless than usual today. After drinking a glass of water, he comes back over.

“Do you… want to watch the DVD?”

I know that if you put it in the machine, you can watch it. But I don’t have a machine, and I wouldn’t know how to use it anyway.

“I can’t watch it.”

“You can watch it on my computer… do you want to?”

So I could see the DVD. I could see my mother. I kind of want to see her again.

“I… I want to watch it.”

Even though it’s an adult video, I still want to see it. Kan-san goes quiet for a moment. Just as I’m feeling disappointed, thinking it’s not possible, he stands up and slips behind the rust-colored curtain. I thought he was going to carve wood, but he comes right back and sets something that looks like a computer on the table. Is that really a computer? It’s too fragile-looking for me to touch, but I’ve seen people using one like this in the dorm office.

Kan-san’s fingers flit across several buttons, making soft clicks. “Hand me the DVD,” he says, reaching out. I give it to him, and he takes the disc out of its case. A small tray pops out of the computer, and Kan-san places the DVD inside.

“If you just click here with the mouse, it’ll start playing.”

“With the… mouse?”

“Just press right here,” he explains, pointing it out.

“I’ll be out for a bit to do some shopping,” he says, and leaves. I’d thought he’d stay and watch with me, but I’m relieved that he isn’t here to see my mother’s affair.

When I press where he showed me, the video starts playing. My chest feels tight. I think it was back in middle school that my mother left. I was just a kid. I look so much older now, almost like an old man.

An ad plays, and my mother doesn’t appear. I wait, hoping she’ll show up soon, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Then, suddenly, there she is, and I let out a surprised, “Whoa!” I touch the screen, reaching for her. It’s her—it’s really her. She looks just like she did when she left home.

“Mom”

She’s standing in a nice-looking kitchen. Is she cooking? My mother never used to cook. Maybe she started? What’s she making? I want to eat her cooking again.

The doorbell rings, ding-dong, and I glance over at the door. That’s strange. It rings again. Oh, the sound is coming from the video. Outside the door, a person with a package—maybe a delivery guy? He’s wearing a hat that looks like it. My mother opens the door, and the delivery guy hands her a box. She sets it down on the floor, but then the delivery guy suddenly lunges at her. I gasp, my throat tightens. He pushes my mother down onto the floor, grabbing her chest. She’s crying, “No, no, somebody, help!”

My heart was racing. I knew I had to help my mom, but I didn't know what to do. I felt a surge of fear and uncertainty. My own chest felt tight, as if it was going to burst.

The delivery person reached under my mom's short skirt. My mom tried to push his hand away, shouting "No!" She managed to push the delivery person away, and he fell backward, his hat flying off. My mom got up and ran to the back of the room.

"Mom, run away, run away!" I shouted, my voice trembling.

But the delivery person caught up to her and pushed her onto the couch. Again, he reached under her skirt.

"Hey, you're wet. You must like this kind of thing," the delivery person sneered.

I recognized the voice. It was Kiichan. I looked at his face, and it was indeed Kiichan. His hat was gone, and I could see his face clearly. Why was Kiichan doing this to my mom? He was always so nice and kind. I felt a wave of confusion and betrayal.

Kiichan pulled off my mom's clothes, and her breasts were exposed. He grabbed her breasts, and my mom shouted, "No!" Kiichan was sucking on my mom's breasts like a baby.

I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Kiichan grabbed my mom's legs and forced his hard penis between them. My mom arched her back and screamed, "Ahh!"

Kiichan's hips were moving, and my mom was moving too. The area where he had inserted his penis was visible, and the penis was going in and out, blurry and unclear. There was a squelching sound.

"Ahh, ahh, ahh..."

Kiichan pulled out his penis, and then he got behind my mom, who was on all fours, and inserted it again. My mom's large breasts were swaying back and forth. My mom was saying "No" at first, but now she was saying "Ahh, ahh" and not saying "No" anymore.

What's going on? Why is my mom doing this? My mom has a husband, so why is she doing this?

Now, Kiichan was straddling my mom's face, who was lying naked on her side. My mom's face was being slapped by Kiichan's penis, and her mouth was open. Kiichan's penis was thrust into her mouth, and my mom was sucking on it, "Chu, chu, chu".

My mom's face was distorted. Why was she making such a weird face? This was disgusting. I didn't want to see it. How could I make it stop?

I’m scared to touch the computer. If it breaks, I’d be in trouble. I wonder if I should cover up the video screen, so I put Kan-san’s pillow in front of it. I can still hear the sounds, but at least I can’t see it anymore.

My stomach churns, and I feel nauseous, like something is about to come up. I can’t throw up here, though—it’d make a mess. I hurry to the bathroom, lift the lid, and as soon as I lean over, my throat tightens. My stomach churns, and everything I’d eaten—the ramen—spills out into the toilet bowl. My mouth tastes sour and awful. I hate this. I hate this smell more than anything, even worse than the smell of poop. The odor of my own vomit makes my stomach spasm, and more pours out.

Did I eat something spoiled? I retch again, over and over, until the nausea finally eases, and I stumble back out of the bathroom.

I sip some water in the kitchen and sit down, feeling exhausted after throwing up so much. When I close my eyes, a horrible image of my mother’s twisted face pops up in my head. I don’t want to see that face, but it keeps appearing, like the time I messed up on-site, and even after I got home, the boss’s yelling kept echoing in my mind, scaring me.

My mother’s face makes me sick. My head feels foggy, and I feel awful. How can I get rid of that face?

I squeeze my eyes shut. The yelling from the job site eventually went away after I fell asleep. Maybe this will disappear if I sleep too. I lie down on the kitchen floor and squeeze my eyes shut. I thought it was gone, but little by little, the scenes from that video start creeping back into my mind. My mom who's saying 'No', my mom with semen on her face, my mom sucking Kiichan's penis.

I don’t want this. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t want these thoughts coming back. How can I make them go away? How can I erase them? Go away, right now.

Maybe if I hit my head, it’ll knock them out, like they’ll just pop right out of my mind. I try hitting my head. I hit it again. It hurts, but it doesn’t work. I try again, again, but it’s no use. I lower my head and slam it against the floor. There’s a loud thud, and my head starts ringing. The ringing drowns out her face, and I feel a surge of relief, but then the image comes back. I slam my head again, making it ring again and again, pounding it to drown out that face. Get out of my head. That face—get out.

Thud… ringing… thud… ringing… I keep at it until I notice the floor has turned red. I touch my forehead and feel something warm and sticky. My hand is red. I’m bleeding, huh? Yeah, it hurts. Oh, my mother’s face is back again. It shows up whenever I stop. So, I slam my head again. The ringing fills my head.

A loud bang. The door? I look up, and there’s Kan-san, staring at me. He drops the plastic bag he was holding and rushes over.

“What happened to your face?”

I was watching the DVD, and my mother was cooking. Then Kiichan appeared, doing horrible things to her, and then that… that adult stuff. Seeing her… it made me sick. I threw up everywhere. Her weird face won’t stop coming into my head… and now all these bad thoughts keep piling up.

“I… I hate it. If I hit my head, and it rings, my mom’s face disappears.”

“What?”

There it is again—her face. I hate it, I hate it, go away. Just go away. If my head rings, it disappears. Just for a bit, but it goes away. I hit my head on the floor. Ring. Then he grabs my arm, pulling me back, hard.

“Stop it. This is serious—you can’t do that.”

He wraps his arms around me from behind, so I can’t hit my head. But now the image comes back—my mother’s face.

“No, I hate it, I hate this.”

My voice sounds like her voice, from when she was screaming “no” in the video. Strange. Whose voice is this? My mind is blank, yet this horrible feeling tingles all the way down to my fingertips, like I’m packed full of something filthy, like I’m filled with sludge. I want to get this disgusting stuff out of my head.

Kan-san holds me tight from the front, squeezing hard. His grip tightens, and somehow, the feeling eases. The awful feeling softens a little.

"Hold me tighter, please."

It feels like I’m being crushed. It’s hard to breathe, but the bad feeling drifts a little farther away. Kan-san is incredible. Really incredible.

"Kan-san… Kan-san," I call his name, and the bad feeling drifts even farther away. Tears start to fall as he holds me tight, and I keep calling, "Kan-san… Kan-san." The thick, heavy feeling, like something clogged and muddy, is still there, but I don’t feel like I’m about to burst with it anymore.

"Are you alright?" Kan-san asks.

"My forehead hurts."

"Well, you hit it hard enough to draw blood," he says, bringing his face close.

"Maybe I have a big bandage somewhere."

When Kan-san lets go, I follow him, not wanting to be left alone. In the back room, he tells me, "Sit down in the chair." Once I sit, he puts a bandage carefully on my forehead.

"Don’t go hitting your head anymore, okay?"

He ruffles my hair, his hand gently stroking my head.

"What happened?" he asks.

The question brings the horrible feeling back to the surface. I wish I could erase that image of my mother from my mind.

"I… I won’t watch anymore."

Kan-san's hand moves to my cheek, gently stroking. He lets out a sigh.

“…I don’t know exactly, but maybe that DVD was too much for you?”

I grip the hand he has on my face, holding on tightly. With Kan-san here, the bad feeling is a little lighter, though my forehead still throbs… it hurts.

If I go back to my star, my mother will be there. I don’t want to see her. But maybe I do. Which is it? I don’t know. What should I do?

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