SOLA — Her Innocence, Sola— the anti-innocence— turns to face you. In the distance, you hear the tattoo of propellers, turning, sucking all the air. A strong wind whips her long, dark hair around her face. Her simple black gown billows behind her. The same gown she wore the day she resigned.
She has your eyes.
“Hi, Kim,” she says simply. “You don’t look well.”
PAIN THRESHOLD — Her voice is so familiar, and yet the moment she stops speaking, you cannot recall its sound, no matter how hard you try. And you have tried. Innumerable times.
AUTHORITY — What makes her think she would even *know* the difference between you looking well or unwell? She’s being presumptuous. She doesn’t even know you.
INLAND EMPIRE — She never will.
“I’m doing great, actually. Never been better.”
“Hey, I’m trying my best.”
“I’m *not* well. I’m so fucking unwell. I can’t take it anymore. Please, help me…”
“I’ll live.”
SOLA — “Hm…” She smiles apologetically. “Well, that’s all we can really ask for anymore, isn’t it?”
EMPATHY — She wishes more than anything that this was not the case. That you could ask for the world and have it.
RHETORIC — She tried to give it to you, and this is how you repay her? You’re gonna be in *deep* shit trying to explain that insignia you stitched onto her jacket.
“Um, about the jacket. It’s not what it… well, no, it *is* what it looks like. But I don’t— it’s— there’s nuance.”
“Is that really all you have to say to me?”
“I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Where are you going?”
SOLA — Her Innocence looks away from you, toward the wind. “Away,” she says, her voice distant and strange. “Yes… I’m stepping down, you see. The world doesn’t need me. It never needed me, really. It’s best for humanity to think for itself. No… it already *does* think for itself.”
She turns back to you with a small smile. The thought brings her peace.
PAIN THRESHOLD — But what does it bring *you?* She’s leaving you forever. Abandoning you for lofty ideals.
AUTHORITY — Let her go. Let her see how little you care. Don’t give her any satisfaction.
HALF LIGHT — Stop her. You won’t be able to live without her.
VOLITION — You have already lived almost all your life without her. You don’t need her. You have *never* needed her.
“What if the world *does* need you? Who are you to make that decision for the entire world?”
“Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”
“So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”
“Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”
SOLA — “What else is an Innocence appointed to do?” Her smile turns wry. “You see? This is why I’m stepping down.”
Distant propellers turn and turn in endless circles. She glances toward them.
YOU — “Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”
SOLA — “I suppose not.” Her voice and her face betray nothing. No sign of remorse.
YOU — “So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”
SOLA — “That was never my intention,” she says softly. “Surely you know that.”
INLAND EMPIRE — You will never truly know. No one will.
SOLA — She stares out at the horizon through the tendrils of hair that almost seem to threaten to swallow her. Her expression is strange and ambiguous, shifting every time you try and look directly at it.
YOU — “Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”
SOLA — She looks at you, and her eyes are full of what might be genuine sadness. But they could also be full of anything else.
“Oh, Kim… You must make do with what you have. I don’t know what else you want me to say…”
RHETORIC — What?! There are a million other things she could say! Forty-one years worth of possibilities! She could say *anything!* Anything at all… Even if she’d only left you a single word, it would be better than this…
VOLITION — It’s pointless to wish. Please, no more of this. It’s too sad.
“You could say that you’re sorry.”
“Say that I turned out all right.”
“Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”
SOLA — “Then I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes. “It was terrible of us to leave you alone.”
Her voice is utterly calm and emotionless.
PAIN THRESHOLD — No… Wrong, all wrong…
YOU — “Say that I turned out all right.”
SOLA — “You’re a good man despite it all. That is all I ever hoped for you.”
Again, there is no warmth to her words. No conviction.
VOLITION — Lieutenant… Please, don’t do this to yourself.
YOU — “Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”
SOLA — “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You wear that jacket well.”
Her eyes have nothing behind them. A pair of two millimeter holes in the world.
“I love you.”
PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs seem to constrict at her words. Your chest hurts more than it’s ever hurt. This wind is hard to breathe in.
YOU — “No! Don’t you fucking get it?! You don’t love me!”
SOLA — “Then I don’t love you.”
YOU — “You should be *ashamed* of me!”
SOLA — “Then I am ashamed.”
YOU — “I betrayed you! I betrayed everything you stood for! I’m a fucking cop!”
SOLA — “Then I am betrayed.”
She proclaims it as dispassionately as she proclaimed her love.
YOU — “For god’s sake, *say something real!*”
SOLA — She just looks at you. The propellers keep on turning.
DRAMA — She can’t speak for herself, sire…
LOGIC — Of course she can’t. Of course…
PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs feel like they could collapse. Empty, crumpled, dark. Hot tears prick your eyes for the first time in what feels like a long time.
SOLA — “Do you understand now?” she asks gently.
LOGIC — She cannot speak for herself because you do not know what she would say.
There are many memories that you have been slowly recovering, little by little. Your mother will never be one of them. Her, the revolution, the aerostatic brigade— they all died before you could even comprehend loss.
AUTHORITY — You did not become a detective so that you could find your lost mother. You became a police officer because you did not want to end up like her.
VOLITION — She can neither forgive you, nor condemn you. She is dead, Lieutenant. She can only be what you make her.
RHETORIC — You’re asking your own echo for answers…
SOLA — “Humanity must think for itself,” she says again, turning again toward the wind. “What point is there in asking me where to go from here? I’m a failure. We all failed…”
RHETORIC — The revolutionaries failed their children, and the children are failing their parents, and all of them are dying, dying, dead… What’s the point in any of this anymore? I cannot argue in favor of any of it.
VOLITION — There is a point. There is a way forward. But you won’t find it here, Lieutenant.
“I hate you. You made me everything I am and then you just *left.*”
“I miss you… How is it even possible to miss someone you never met? It’s like someone ripped a part of me out and all I can do is bleed.”
“I don’t know what I am. I need you to tell me what I am.”
SOLA — One last time, she turns back to you. She slowly bridges the gap between you and reaches out a hand to cup your cheek. Her fingers feel like your own.
“You are whatever kind of animal you choose to be,” she says, so quietly that you don’t know how you can hear it over the distant roar of engines. “I cannot make that choice for you.”
EMPATHY — She died hoping that you would grow up with the freedom to choose to be whatever you wanted. Instead, the world that raised you hardly let you dare to want anything.
VOLITION — But you can still make a choice. Humanity can still think for itself.
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Hirano to Kagiura light novel translation 4-1
Chapter 4: Fall.
Part 1
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It might be September by now, but the sun’s rays know no bounds.
Heat from the weather aside, the schoolhouse on the coattails of summer break is permeated with the fervor of the students.
Among all those in the athletic clubs who have undergone away games and training camps, there are many who have deepened both their tans and their virility. The sense of achievement characteristic of those who kept up with their exercise lives within their growth spurts.
Hirano’s roommate is, once again, one of them.
Kagiura, who’s gotten a bit taller, has gotten used to high school, completely devoid of the anxiety he’d seemed to have around the time he’d started school.
Since they’d met up over the summer, he’s become more and more relaxed, and Hirano can’t help but think of him as a beloved younger brother.
Wait, but younger brothers don’t do things like give you earrings, do they?
Hirano isn’t really in a position to judge, with no siblings of his own.
He’d found his original earrings while organizing his luggage after returning from Kagiura’s countryside home. They’d fallen into his school bag and hidden themselves beneath the stiff bottom plate.
What should I do about it? he’d wondered, but figured well, whatever, and didn’t bother switching out his new ones. He’ll keep them in the dorm just in case, but ultimately plans to keep using the ones Kagiura gave him.
As soon as the new term starts, preparations for the Cultural Festival are full speed ahead. Even the first years, who aren’t used to running events without the guidance of a faculty member, are gradually gaining opportunities to build character. The Executive Committee members have so many responsibilities that it has become difficult to carry out their studies without the cooperation of their classmates.
Kagiura also has the situation of being part of the ‘Sports Recommendation Squad’, and his grades are not up to snuff. It would be good if they don’t take a hit from his extracurricular responsibilities, but that will come down to his own efforts.
It’s not just the Executive Committee members who are swamped. The students in the culture clubs are also at their busiest, and with the autumn tournament right around the corner, there’s no way the athletics clubs can cut back on practices.
The sweltering nights have yet to abate; yet despite these conditions which could even be called cruel, most of the students are eagerly awaiting the Cultural Festival. You might even get away with saying all of them.
Because, after all, girls come to visit the cultural festival.
And even without that element, a festival is still a festival.
This is a time when the whole student body is restless, so the Disciplinary Committee will be on top of keeping everyone in line—or such is their public stance, but they won’t be too strict about moderating uniforms and hair styles.
In any case, a high proportion of the students will be in costumes on the day of the festival.
There's also at least one class cross-dressing every year.
This year, that’s right, it's the class that Hirano is unfortunately a part of. More specifically, it's been decided that Hirano will be one of the ones in drag.
Oiwa-san—a famous spirit who makes an appearance in the Yotsuya Kaidan.¹
There are many variations of the famous ghost story, in which Oiwa, the deceased wife, holding a grudge over the betrayal of her husband, Iemon, slaughters every last person involved. Apparently, they will be basing the makeup off of Tōkaidō Yotsuya Kaidan², which is popular among Hirano’s classmates.
He’d been shown reference images of the ghost, her face half disfigured and inflamed by poison, but the picture was nightmare fuel when viewed in the dark.
Supposedly it’s a style of Halloween makeup that’s been popular in recent years, but the trial makeup that had been applied to his arm after school in order to match the shade to his face had been truly grotesque.
This information is to be kept top secret until the last possible minute on the day of, in the interests of building hype.
While Hirano is putting away his homework, the door opens with a click.
His roommate is home.
It’s still bright outside, but the dining hall is just about to open for dinner.
“Hirano-san, I’m home!”
“Welcome home, Kagi-kun.”
These days, Kagiura usually gets a bit bashful in reply to Hirano’s greeting, seemingly tickled. So naive and innocent he must be, making such an expression with no fear of being misunderstood.
There were days they’d spent together, but summer vacation had been long.
There’s an air of a different kind of newness from the one there’d been in the period before they’d gotten used to sharing a dorm—Kagiura probably feels it too. At least, Hirano thinks so.
He feels closer to Kagiura compared to before. After all, he’s met his immediate and extended family, so of course they’d feel more intimate. It’s as if the part of himself that had been on guard while thinking about how to act as a senpai in his second year in the dorms has been absolved.
After Hirano had filled out his print-outs as if in competition with Kagiura, who’d spread out his homework in a frenzy, they’d headed to the dining hall a little later than usual.
It always takes him about 3 or 4 days to get back into the swing of dorm life.
Speaking of which, he thinks.
Before Kagiura moved into the dorms, Hirano had been quite nervous.
He’d talked to Hanzawa about it one time when the Disciplinary Committee had a meeting, and they’d brainstormed strategies to avoid scaring Kagiura off.
He’d also felt it would be a waste of his efforts if he was only friendly at the beginning of their time spent living together; thus, they’d come to the conclusion that it wouldn’t be too far out of Hirano’s depths to give him a nickname and use “-kun”.
Oh yeah, that’s right. At the beginning I called him Kagiura-kun.
He’s been calling his name every day, enough that he’d ended up shortening it, thinking it’s too long and clunky.
Kagiura has morning practice tomorrow, too, so there's no way he can let him oversleep.
Hirano got that, but there was something on his mind that just wouldn’t go away, so he asked before shutting off the lights.
".....Hey, um. I know you're working hard, so I don't wanna rain on your parade, but are your studies going all right? I haven't heard how your proficiency test went yet."
As the words leave his mouth, he thinks, what am I, a private tutor? and laughs drily to himself.
For the results of the test held right after summer break, a list ranking every student in their grade and the standard score were passed out to each person, the same as for the periodic exams.
For first years, they can be used as nothing more than a reference, but due to the breadth of the material covered, in some cases they might be used to determine which schools to apply to when compared to results from previous cram schools.
“...I just barely passed.”
“What’s the damage?”
��The teacher said, ‘You didn’t do badly enough that I need to pull you aside, but keep working hard’...”
“I see.”
Which is bad in and of itself, really.
Kagiura hangs his head dejectedly, and Hirano’s tempted to comfort him all the more for having seen the extent of his efforts, but his lack of preparation is unmistakable.
“Kagi-kun, after the cultural festival is over, you gotta step it up. If you miss some of the notes, get someone to show you theirs before the next day. Don’t let them build up. If you end up with a backlog of notes to take, you’re not gonna be able to understand them.”
Hirano knows deep down he’s probably worrying too much, but he keeps the expression on his face stern. The beginning is the key to everything. Among his classmates in the ‘Sports Recommendation Squad’ who, like Kagiura, are bad students, there are many whose grades plummeted after going on to their second year.
Who knew he’d become this much of a worrywort after becoming someone’s senpai?
“Yeah…Hirano-san, will you teach me again?”
“Sure. But you better bring back good grades.”
“I will! …By the way, can I ask you something?”
He ducks his head as he asks the question, a gesture with all the charm one would expect from someone as cute as him.
“What’s up?”
“When you were a first year, did the senpai you roomed with teach you how to study, too?”
“Nah, no way.”
“Hm…did you not get along?”
“It’s not that we didn’t get along, we just weren’t really that close. I wasn’t nearly as friendly a kouhai as you are.”
This is usually the case for dorm students. Hanzawa, contemptuous of homosexual relations, has a reputation in certain circles for having a finely-tuned gaydar and showing up to cockblock any time he senses anyone getting a little too close.³
His distaste isn’t unwarranted; apparently it has to do with his family, so even Hirano feels bad for him.
“...Does that make me special, then?”
“Why are you so happy about that?”
At Hirano’s jests of what are you, a dog? Kagiura breaks into a grin.
“Yeah. You know, I’m glad I’m your roommate, Hirano-san.”
Hirano smiles wryly; Kagiura’s got him wrapped around his little finger without a hint of insincerity.
With Kagiura cozying up to him like this, he doesn’t stand a chance.
*****
T/N: (1) Not sure I need to add more info on this to the story, but it's pretty interesting, so you can read more about it here.
(2) A movie based on the story made in 1959.
(3) Yall....idek what to say about this. I tried to keep the tone lighthearted but the original text literally says 'gay-hating Hanzawa' and describes his feelings as disgust. Idk why the writer put this but our boy is NOT like that 😭 I actually broke my vow of not looking at the official TL just to see how they handled this bit and they completely watered it down lmao. and tbh, yall know my dedication to accuracy but I WAS TEMPTED. While going back and forth about what I should do, I told my sister about it, and she suggested that Hanzawa doesn't actually hate gays, he just hates gay sex and will stand for none of it in his dorm so...we're going with that interpretation 💀🙃💀🙃
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