In a secluded corner of the school grounds, the situation unfolded almost exactly as I had anticipated.
Whether she possessed enough discernment to listen to reason, or whether my words had served as a final breakwater against her impulses, I cannot say. Regardless, Toga followed my advice. She confessed her feelings to her classmate, and he agreed to become her lover.
So far, so good.
But then, she told him she wanted to suck his blood. The boy was left dumbstruck.
Before he could even process her words, Toga reached for a utility knife—only to realize she didn't have one. With a casual, airy "Oh, well then," she bared her fangs and made to bite him. She approached him with a smile like a flower in full bloom—a look of pure, radiant happiness. It was a beautiful smile, yet utterly terrifying.
A normal person, faced with such an advance, would naturally flee. As expected, the boy ran. Not only did he abandon her, but he hurled a string of panicked, incoherent insults back at her. Toga was left standing there, paralyzed.
The afternoon sun, still high in the sky, slanted down to illuminate her profile. There she stood: a girl whose innocent expectations had been betrayed, staring blankly into the void. In that moment, she was nothing more than a heartbroken girl, the kind you might find anywhere.
Even if her methods were aberrant, she was, undeniably, just a girl. There was no trace of malice or hatred in her—only a sense of being "normal." Deeply, profoundly normal.
Looking at her then, I realized I could no longer simply walk away with the cold comfort that I had "prevented a violent incident."
"…Toga-san."
I called out to her back, masking the guilt of knowing this was the inevitable outcome. There was no reply.
Instead, she turned toward me with the slow, jarring precision of a droid running low on oil. Tears were cascading down her cheeks like waterfalls.
"…Ahaha. I… I got dumped."
Seeing her so dejected only sharpened the sting of my guilt.
What was the right thing to say in a moment like this? I had predicted this, but was it right to voice those predictions now? If I were the person I was in my previous life, I might have praised her, saying she had "overcome a great trial." But I knew now that such words would be entirely beside the point.
"…You have my deepest sympathies."
I offered the safest words I could find, desperate to keep the conversation going, but her reaction was faint.
"…It's so hard to live, isn't it?" she whispered. "'Be normal,' 'That's not normal,' 'Normal, normal, normal'… What even is that, really? None of it is cu-u-ute at all…!"
"..."
"Why? I feel like I'm living normally. But when I smile, people get angry. Even my parents say I'm 'abnormal.' Isn't that strange? I just want to live freely, like anyone else… So why? Why… is it so hard to just exist!?"
What came back was a raw, desperate outpouring of her soul. Her dry, hollow laughter echoed painfully. These were her true feelings, beyond a shadow of a doubt. In her mind, she was living normally—just like everyone else.
But to the rest of the world, her "normal" was anything but.
In that moment, I realized the two sides would never truly understand one another.
"…I," I began.
But I…
Through this brief exchange, I understood. Her perspective was merely skewed; at her core, she was a fifteen-year-old girl like any other. And because of that skew, she was utterly alone. Out of billions of people, she was the only one standing there, weeping in solitude. I wanted to save her.
And so, I made my choice. If no one else would, then at least I would.
"…I will not deny your 'normal'."
I took a step forward.
"I—personally—will accept your 'normal' for what it is."
I am still immature; I do not know if this is the "right" path.
"So… stay by my side. If doing so allows you to be yourself… to live 'cu-u-utely'…"
At the very least, this was the only way I could think of to live a life that didn't deny the darkness.