Sinnesspiel (
sinnesspiel) wrote2019-11-28 03:43 pm
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Entry tags:
Shiki Novel Translations 3.14.4
4
The phone was ringing.
Yuuki noticed the sound but he sat still on his son's bed and merely listened to it ring.
It might have been Hirosawa, or if not him then probably Mutou. The two were kind enough to have come to check on him repeatedly, to have inecessantly brought him food, but Yuuki had no mind to head out. The workshop remained closed, and whenever Hirosawa and Mutou didn't drag him out, he made due with the meals they'd brought him. This was his state since the funeral service, and the two had encouraged him who knew how many times to contact Azusa but of course he wasn't of a mind to do that either.
With Azusa gone the house soon fell into ruin. While Azusa was there, Yuuki cleaned up after himself well enough, could even make his own meals. He helped clean up around the house often enough but now that he knew he was here alone, he didn't feel like doing any of it. In the living room and the kitchen, trash and bottles of liquor piled up, and the only room with any signs of the home's former order and cleanliness was Natsuno's room. This was the only place Yuuki couldn't bring himself to use carelessly, and the time he passed in Natsuno's room gerw and grew. He had no drive at all to stop the ruin taking over the rest of the house but he didn't particularly want to wallow in the middle of it either, something he found ironic and charged himself with the absurdity.
Losing his son was a tremendous shock. The guilt at not having done enough to save him was deep. Maybe being left by Azusa played a part in Yuuki's low spirits, too. With no one to support or be supported by, he couldn't find any motivation to move forward.
More than that, what tormented Yuuki even more were the words that Mutou Tamotsu had said. Natsuno wanted out of the village, Tamotsu said. Until then Yuuki had no idea that his son wanted to return to the city so badly. Day by day, that sentiment grew like a cold stone in the pit of his stomach. Sitting in his son's room laying eyes on so many things unfinished solidified that cold freeze.
So in a way being in his son's room was a painful experience for Yuuki. But all the same at night, oddly enough, Yuuki couldn't be anywhere but here.
Tonight, too, he sat in the pale darkness. The alarm clock at his bedside--which would never again wake its owner--even now still showed the passage of time. He knew by the blew light it emitted that the date had changed.
How many days had passed? They were entering the eighth day since the funeral.
He'd spent all that time sitting here like this, Yuuki derided himself with a smile spilling out. In this state, it was funny that he was oddly clear on the date and time.
(Already eight days...)
He had to get it together already. Hirosawa and Mutou were worried for him.
Isn't it about time to find some determination, he told himself.
"Sitting here like this won't bring Natsuno back...."
The words he mumbled at himself struck him with an unexpectedly deep sense of loss. Dismayed, he realized that was what he had been waiting on.
"....So that's it."
Yuuki buried his face in both hands.
He had been waiting on that. Putting everything into that single ray of hope, he had foolishly had Natsuno buried. Because maybe, in a one in a million chance, by some miracle or whatever, he had hoped Natsuno might rise up and come back.
But to date not a single unusual thing had occurred. It wouldn't, because The Risen didn't exist. No matter how much he waited, Natsuno wouldn't be coming. ---Never.
Satisfied of that, Yuuki cried for some time. While biting into his hand, he thought of leaving the village. Yuuki had gained nothing here. He had lost everything.
(But, Natsuno sleeps in this village.)
He couldn't leave Natsuno behind. He'd brought him here by force. He had bound him to this place. If they hadn't come to this village, his son might not have died, and there was no way that he could leave behind that dead son and escape this place himself.
Yuuki was now bound to the village by his son's corpse. It was a binding never to be undone, regrets fastening him to this land until death.
After longing for a sense of a connection, a territorial bond, just like this for so long, he knew it when he obtained it. Now that he'd had it, it was nothing more than a heavy burden.
The phone was ringing.
Yuuki noticed the sound but he sat still on his son's bed and merely listened to it ring.
It might have been Hirosawa, or if not him then probably Mutou. The two were kind enough to have come to check on him repeatedly, to have inecessantly brought him food, but Yuuki had no mind to head out. The workshop remained closed, and whenever Hirosawa and Mutou didn't drag him out, he made due with the meals they'd brought him. This was his state since the funeral service, and the two had encouraged him who knew how many times to contact Azusa but of course he wasn't of a mind to do that either.
With Azusa gone the house soon fell into ruin. While Azusa was there, Yuuki cleaned up after himself well enough, could even make his own meals. He helped clean up around the house often enough but now that he knew he was here alone, he didn't feel like doing any of it. In the living room and the kitchen, trash and bottles of liquor piled up, and the only room with any signs of the home's former order and cleanliness was Natsuno's room. This was the only place Yuuki couldn't bring himself to use carelessly, and the time he passed in Natsuno's room gerw and grew. He had no drive at all to stop the ruin taking over the rest of the house but he didn't particularly want to wallow in the middle of it either, something he found ironic and charged himself with the absurdity.
Losing his son was a tremendous shock. The guilt at not having done enough to save him was deep. Maybe being left by Azusa played a part in Yuuki's low spirits, too. With no one to support or be supported by, he couldn't find any motivation to move forward.
More than that, what tormented Yuuki even more were the words that Mutou Tamotsu had said. Natsuno wanted out of the village, Tamotsu said. Until then Yuuki had no idea that his son wanted to return to the city so badly. Day by day, that sentiment grew like a cold stone in the pit of his stomach. Sitting in his son's room laying eyes on so many things unfinished solidified that cold freeze.
So in a way being in his son's room was a painful experience for Yuuki. But all the same at night, oddly enough, Yuuki couldn't be anywhere but here.
Tonight, too, he sat in the pale darkness. The alarm clock at his bedside--which would never again wake its owner--even now still showed the passage of time. He knew by the blew light it emitted that the date had changed.
How many days had passed? They were entering the eighth day since the funeral.
He'd spent all that time sitting here like this, Yuuki derided himself with a smile spilling out. In this state, it was funny that he was oddly clear on the date and time.
(Already eight days...)
He had to get it together already. Hirosawa and Mutou were worried for him.
Isn't it about time to find some determination, he told himself.
"Sitting here like this won't bring Natsuno back...."
The words he mumbled at himself struck him with an unexpectedly deep sense of loss. Dismayed, he realized that was what he had been waiting on.
"....So that's it."
Yuuki buried his face in both hands.
He had been waiting on that. Putting everything into that single ray of hope, he had foolishly had Natsuno buried. Because maybe, in a one in a million chance, by some miracle or whatever, he had hoped Natsuno might rise up and come back.
But to date not a single unusual thing had occurred. It wouldn't, because The Risen didn't exist. No matter how much he waited, Natsuno wouldn't be coming. ---Never.
Satisfied of that, Yuuki cried for some time. While biting into his hand, he thought of leaving the village. Yuuki had gained nothing here. He had lost everything.
(But, Natsuno sleeps in this village.)
He couldn't leave Natsuno behind. He'd brought him here by force. He had bound him to this place. If they hadn't come to this village, his son might not have died, and there was no way that he could leave behind that dead son and escape this place himself.
Yuuki was now bound to the village by his son's corpse. It was a binding never to be undone, regrets fastening him to this land until death.
After longing for a sense of a connection, a territorial bond, just like this for so long, he knew it when he obtained it. Now that he'd had it, it was nothing more than a heavy burden.
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(Anonymous) 2019-12-30 05:20 pm (UTC)(link)