Weariness wells up in the corners of my eyes; for some reason, they are glistening unusually now, and I have to keep blinking to stop it from spilling over.
"I no longer want to keep going; I just want to 'lie down' for a moment, but even that is so difficult.
So many things are holding me back, dragging me along (forcing me, truth be told), rushing me, screaming empty platitudes right into my face.
Looking at the face of my cute Bunny friend (actually, he's been demoted—just somewhat cute now; I'm really mad at you, my friend), those red eyes clearly betrayed a gloomy, melancholy expression. As if he had done something wrong (well, because he actually did)
Perhaps I'm hallucinating? I've never seen Bunny like this before—I only ever knew a cheerful, laughing Bunny. I should probably take my medicine, shouldn't I?
I pulled out a pill bottle covered in a bunch of words I couldn't even pronounce. Still, I roughly got the gist of the instructions: one pill a day, and if severe complications arise, increase the dosage to about two pills and go see a doctor.
One pill should be enough, I thought to myself, and there's probably no need to see a doctor anyway, right? This bitterness is just like Senburi—that intensely bitter herb my mother uses to brew tea, and that tea itself is bitterly harsh as well.
Yet surprisingly enough, after taking it—nothing happened at all! Give a round of applause, dear readers! Aren't you as happy as I am?
Perhaps I should increase the dosage—one more pill will probably be better, I thought to myself.
I took out two pills and downed them. Somehow, this bitterness had subsided (or perhaps my sense of taste has just dulled).
Yet surprisingly enough, after taking them—nothing happened at all! Give a round of applause, dear readers! Aren't you as happy as I am? (Just how long do I plan to keep up this act, I wonder?)
If adding just a bit more isn't enough, then we simply double it. Surely it will work—most definitely, it will.
I took out four pills. The pills now seemed so tiny, carrying a rich fragrance along with a subtle, gentle sweetness. Am I hallucinating? I could've sworn this stuff was terribly bitter. Then again, if it is a hallucination, it's not too bad. I'd rate the fun a solid seven out of ten.
Looking around. Something really has happened. The space around me is warping now, hard to make out. The walls bear a thin, glossy layer of rainbows, so sweet, while the lights are like scorching suns now, endlessly burning my very being away, time after time. I'm happy in a bizarrely strange way—strange in the most ordinary way I've ever experienced.
Then let's increase it—more, even more, way more than before. Raise it to the power of two—I took out sixteen pills (fortunately, my pill bottle is the large kind, so it holds plenty of pills).
Downing it all, sensing it, slipping into delirium, and exploding. All of it fused within me in a fleeting moment, yet oh, how breathtakingly beautiful it was.
I feel as though these legs know no more pain, no more exhaustion, no more storms. I collapsed to my knees; this body has finally begun to react to the medication—is that a good thing, I wonder?
So, what if I go even further? Going even further probably won't hurt—I'm sure of it. I tetrate it. So that leaves me with 18,446,744,073,709,551,616 pills.
Um, it seems a few minor details aren't quite right. But whatever. I don't care about details, the author doesn't care about details, the readers don't care about details, humanity doesn't care about details, and individual Homo sapiens don't care about details.
But surely, those strange details are nothing but the wind, and whatever doesn't quite make sense is merely a petty nightmare after all.
''H... hey, don't take so many pills like that—it's really not good for you.''
Even though it sounds extremely grating, forgiveness is a virtue after all. Mom is always so forgiving, radiating a beautifully pure light. I should learn, must learn, have learned, am learning, will learn, and forever learn from her. So I will... Oh wait, actually, it seems I'm lying paralyzed on the floor now—the pills seem pretty effective, don't they? So perhaps I should forgive them, shouldn't I?
"Having friends like that is really concerning, Akusha-chan."
That familiar female voice echoed in my eardrums, yet I couldn't bring myself to remember who it belonged to—a feeling akin to having just forgotten a dream, even though I had only just woken up. It was strange in the way Laodicea is strange.
"Who might you be?"
A soft chuckle echoed after my question, and she continued.
"How cold, Akusha-chan. Don't you remember who you just met in 'that place' during your dream?"
Thinking back, it must be those three bunny girls (not that I'm sure they were actually rabbits since they looked human, but let's just call them that to tell them apart). The memories tied to that voice were starting to come back to me much more clearly now.
"Where are you anyway? Why can't I see you?"
"You know, Akusha, love is an extraordinarily bewitching thing. It allows people to do truly admirable things they could never normally manage, such as: observing, eavesdropping, stalking, quietly walking the same path as the person they love, finding out their home address, covering entire notebooks with their photos, tracking their schedule, buying a knife, flushing a dead fetus down the toilet, and so much more."
I didn't know why she considered us close enough to drop the suffix and call me directly (then again, attaching a suffix to my name the very first time we met was already a bit overly familiar, wasn't it?).
"Could we get straight to the point?"
I tried to nudge her along. Listening to her ramble about love wasn't nearly as interesting as my mom, so I didn't even bother paying attention. After all, her voice suddenly echoing right in my ear (somehow) couldn't possibly be just to talk about love, could it?
"Fine then, L... Ah, to make it easier, did you notice how among the three of us, there's a big one, a medium one, and a small one?"
"Yes, I did. Why's that?"
"Well, I'm the tallest, so call me Limbo 1. The second tallest is Limbo 2, and the shortest—"
"It's third tallest, not shortest! You fucking [Good kids really shouldn't hear what she just said]"
Another voice—still female, still fairly mature (is the author obsessed with MILFs or something?)—except this one was high-pitched. She sounded younger than the lady who had just been speaking.
[Author's note: I firmly deny these baseless allegations! Esteemed members of the jury, you must believe me!]
"Fine, fine, third tallest, alright? You can call her Limbo 3."
The voice from earlier—or the one now calling herself Limbo 1—rang out, followed by a rustling sound that sounded like footsteps (sounds like high heels, and yeah, the author is definitely obsessed with MILFs). After that came a dry cough from yet another lady (again, author?), who cleared her throat slightly before speaking.
[Author's note: Denying these baseless allegations for the second time! Esteemed members of the jury, you MUST believe me!]
"Are you afraid of those desires? Are you trying to suppress them so that 'fire' doesn't consume you whole? By the way, I'm Limbo 2."
I don't understand what you're talking about, nor do I get this profound philosophy you're going on about. It's not like I poured gasoline all over myself to be afraid of whatever 'fire' you claim will consume me (unless I'm being accused of being a witch, that is). But then again, perhaps this is merely the premise for a long novel—a deeply thought-provoking and highly philosophical question where the answer the asker wants to hear is undoubtedly 'I don't know.' So, I'm going to say...
"Splendid! Admitting you don't know makes it so much easier for the speaker to elaborate, so to explain everything mentioned above, we must first understand—"
I interjected hesitantly.
"I didn't even say anything though?"
"Clever kid. But why don't we just ignore that and jump straight to the main point? Hearing a voice suddenly pop up in your ear is already weird enough, so what's the harm in a little extra strangeness?"
"Fallacy!"
I said, my voice tinged with anger. Even though she hadn't done anything wrong, for some reason, hearing her speak felt deeply "deceitful" and carried a sense of "fallacious" (even though I know I shouldn't be using these two as adjectives, I couldn't find any other words to replace them—sorry, my vocabulary is a bit limited).
"You really are hard to please, aren't you, my dear Akusha? But that's alright—she's told me so much about you that I know full well what I need to do."
After saying that, she fell silent for a moment. All I could hear in my ear was the faint sound of pages turning—it seemed she was looking something up, though that didn't seem particularly important to me right now. (So, what was important to me right now, anyway?)
"H-hey... are you okay? Why do you keep talking to yourself?"
Bunny asked in a strangely timid tone, which didn't sound much like her usual self.
"Are you feeling... guilty?"
I asked in response. All I got was an awkward smile—it seems saying "I feel bad" is pretty hard for her, huh? Still, if I already understand what's on her mind, forcing her to say it out loud would be pretty mean.
"I'm sorry."
She apologized to me, apologizing for everything she had done. (Even though I didn't think it was bad enough to warrant an apology, even if I was sulking just a little bit.)
Forgiveness. Maybe I should still be like that. Endsilver—my mom—always possessed immense forgiveness (super super super huge, actually), where every sin was met with a forgiving smile after an apology. I should learn from that, I must learn from that, I am bound to learn from that, I have learned from that, I am learning from that, I will learn from that. So, I will...
"Smash her skull in and laugh maniacally—why not?"
Limbo 2's voice suddenly rang out, proposing an idea that couldn't possibly be worse right about now.
"Refused. Why on earth would I do that?"
"Is this rejection of yours just an extremely subtle form of evasion?"
What a strange question. How am I even supposed to answer this? Um... I can't think of a single thing.
"You don't get it? Well, let me spell it out for you then!"
"Can I ask something? How exactly can you read my thoughts—even when it's just my internal monologue, you still can?"
"Because your skull keeps talking, keeps screaming, refusing to sit still, refusing to stay quiet even though it has no mouth. So your secrets are impossible to hide—and do you really want to stay like that?"
Quite an enticing ability—it seems like I want it (why did I use "it seems" here? That sounds so indecisive). But not right now, I guess.
"Well, if you don't want it, fair enough. So, back to the main topic: what is the root cause behind you forgiving Bunny?"
"Because we're friends, perhaps?"
"When sunbeams fall upon a slowly fading flame, that flame flickers, the stars glimmer faintly one last time, and then it dies out, as if it had never existed in the first place."
I didn't understand what she was talking about, nor did I even know which angle to approach it from. It sounded like some philosophical quote straight out of a book—I just didn't recognize it. But before I could ask what she meant, she went on.
"This world is brimming with hatred, resentment, and hostility, which is precisely why I am enamored with it—why I love this far-from-beautiful world."
I began gasping for breath—I don't even know anymore. It felt as though I were walking across a vast mirror. All this exhaustion had truly turned into tears. I couldn't understand why I couldn't hold them back, as if I was craving it more than ever—as if it were joyfully dancing inside this tiny mind of mine.
"With both love and hatred. When my head fell upon the cold ground, I felt more relieved than ever, as if tasting the sweet flavor of the ocean."
She spoke, on and on, much like the way I wept.
"Dante and Beatrice."