Yamiyo no Hotaru

Chapter 54

"No, I don't want to do this anymore..."

　In a dimly lit room, lit suspiciously only by the light of a candle in a candlestick, I heard the voice. A voice that trembled weakly, faintly.

　"I don't want it... I don't want to live in a house like this anymore. Even if it's big, it's lonely, and I won't be able to visit my mother's grave. Besides, I won't be able to see my father forever, and I'll be attacked by those monsters... Everyone's attitude also changed so suddenly... It's scary, it's scary..."

　The girl sobs and cries, tears streaming down her face. It should have been a shameful cry from a child who doesn't care about how she looks... but with her natural beauty and shiny black hair, it was rather frustratingly attractive.

　However, what dominated my mind more than that was a shock. I realized at this moment that I had already made a mistake. Everything had already deviated from the established trajectory by my unintentional intrusion. That it was a definite, fatal derailment.

　Yes, she should never have burst into tears here. Abandoned, indifferent, and treated as if she did not exist, though, she defeated the attacker with her hidden power and was marveled at and praised by everyone around her. And from there, she would discover the value of her existence and grow into a virtuous exorcist who strives to conduct herself in a way that people are not ashamed of. It was supposed to happen. But then...

　"I don't need these clothes. I don't need a tortoiseshell comb. I don't want to do these suffocating lessons. I just want to live in peace with the person I love. This is... this is...!!"

　She clutches the sleeves of her luxurious silk kimono so wrinkled that they crease. The beautiful clothes that would make any girl happy were nothing more than a source of comfort for her now, and only made her suffer.

　It was natural for her to think about it. A young girl is separated from her familiar home, her loving mother is sick with anguish and dying, and her father, the only one she can rely on, is distant from her. Even though her father's actions were for her own protection, there is no way she could have known that at such a young age. Her selfishness and coarse behavior have kept her lonely all her life. And I underestimated her despair. Because in the original story, she was able to recover on her own. That her own actions were only meant as leverage at best.

　"I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want it...!!"

　The dark-haired girl, my childhood friend, my master, the girl I was trying to use, she pleads, lamenting, crying, and screaming. I already understood that her tantrums, however, were her desperate pleas for help. I understood that.

　"Uuu... hey, help me. Help me, ■■. Like you always do... Please, help me........."

　With these words, she takes a step toward me. She looks up at me, anxious, but surely trusting, as if clinging, grasping for a glimmer of hope.

　Oh, it was a mistake. It was a big mistake. A great error. Those colored eyes. She was not that strong. She was just putting up with it. She was just fooling her own mind. Of course, she was. It's a horror for a child to see people around her who were indifferent and cold to no end change and flatter her as soon as they realize how much they can use her.

　I am sure that the original her was also just enduring. She was just acting out because she thought that her life was worthless other than meeting everyone's expectations, there was no meaning to her existence, and there was no way to survive. And I, because of my involvement, created an escape route for her. She became the one to ask for help. So she let out her feelings, which she never would have done in the first place. She let it out clearly.