Stigma— Chapter X: “The Vision of the Insect”

Victorian-style English translation (academic quality)

“This story belongs to the world where wounds become stars.”

“Eiji. Can you walk as far as that?” Rui’s hand settled upon my shoulder, supporting me—yet with a firmness that made clear he had no intention of letting me flee.

“Yes.” I could only nod. A tremor ran through me. Rui… what is this “talk” you intend to have?

We ascended beyond the highest tier once more. The timetable had shifted to the next artist, and the crowd in the stands had thinned drastically; in its place, the distant clamour from outside the venue grew louder.

Masa… what sort of face did I make? The moment I looked again into Rui’s eyes, I was no longer myself. I had nothing left—no emotion fit to show you, nothing permissible to anyone, not even to myself. Only the true, forbidden self remained.

Ah. Yes. Only when Rui gazes upon me and strips my heart bare do I become my true self again— the self everyone mocks, despises, calls filthy, a worm wearing the skin of a man. Only then do I feel I need no longer pretend to be human. If I could accept that—if I could surrender to it—then perhaps I…

Masa. I am afraid. Help me. You saw it, didn’t you? You will never forgive me. And yet I still cling, pathetically, to the world we wove together, and to this human society I continue to court like a fool. It feels as though I have awakened at the bottom of a sewer. As though the vision of an insect—realising that this filth is where it truly belongs—has opened before me.

Pull me back. I never wanted to love anyone.

Yes, Masa. I was afraid of you as well. I tried not to be hated. It was all a transaction. I have never done anything but trade—predicting what would please others, using those patterns as currency. I was exploited countless times, seen through and used. But I could not stop—not because I enjoyed being helpful, but because there was a great hollow in my gut, and if I did not fill it, the cold was unbearable.

I was lonely. It was never love.

And yet, Masa—you turned that sun-like, innocent smile upon me, trusting me. It hurts. I am not that sort of man. It hurts unbearably. And still I am lonely. Still the hollow will not fill. A roaring wind tears through the cavity in my chest.

Ah. I have no right to ask for help. I am no longer the same kind of human as you.

The corridor was empty of people; only the lively music and distant voices echoed through it. Rui placed a hand upon the railing, gazing down at the concert below, and spoke to me.

“Do you remember when you told me you would bear my wounds? I hardly thanked you, but it was the first time I felt saved. And now I see—you were carrying your own burdens as well.”

My heart leapt.

“I… I never…” The words caught in my throat. I recoiled. I wanted to flee, but Rui did not allow it.

“Why? You said it then as well—that you felt like filth. Why does it come to that? I have never once seen you that way. You have been beating yourself alone for years. You have the eyes of a man who does such things. Speak.”

I could no longer escape. And so, in broken fragments, I began to spill the arrows that had pierced me for so long.

“No one ever cared about my heart.

When I scored full marks on tests… when I was useful… only then was my father kind. And when I first admired someone—he laughed, said I looked like a monkey in heat. My diary, where I wrote my feelings… he read it aloud, mocked the childish prose, showed it to others, ridiculed me. He burned the photograph of the person I liked. And whenever talk of men who loved men appeared in the news, he said they were disgusting trash, and that he was glad I wasn’t one of them.

Always… always… he said such things. My inner life never mattered. At school, in society, I was nothing but an object of curiosity or disgust. They laughed, called it sickening, bonded over talk of women… And to fit in, I did filthy things.

I dated women I didn’t care for. But even that was just another transaction with society. I could do nothing but hurt people while laughing along. To remain part of the herd, I became the lowest kind of man. And still I wanted to be loved—pathetically, nauseatingly.

Their words were never mine. But somehow they became me. I married to escape myself, but it failed. I have a son—how can I face him? Divorce doesn’t sever the bond between parent and child. And yet here I am… I have no right to love anyone. I am filth.

Everything I touch becomes dirty.

Because I am dirty.

I will never drag you down with me. I cannot drag anyone down. Do not descend. Do not come to where I am. Go. I have said what I needed to say. If you step further, I swear—I swear I will never forgive you. Never!”

My throat burned as though scorched. It felt as if a mass of tangled emotion clogged my windpipe.

Rui stood in silence.

A heavy stillness settled between us. Rui understood there was no remedy for wounds so irreparable. He might have embraced me—but that would have shattered me entirely, for I was a man whose interior had been devoured, standing only by the shell that remained.

Rui drew a trembling breath—quiet, yet deep—and spoke.

“Eiji…”

At the sound of his voice, my shoulders shook. I trembled with anger and shame, fearing what he would say.

But Rui’s voice, calm yet resolute, declared:

“Even so, I still believe you are human.”

The words lodged in my chest like a thorn that would never be removed.

“What…? What are you saying…? Don’t mock me… Stop it…! There’s no way someone like me is normal! Are you trying to save me? I’m beyond saving!”

Rui did not speak further. But his eyes conveyed everything.

Then, from behind the pillar behind Rui, came the heavy thud of something dropping to the floor.

Masa had followed us.

And he had likely heard everything.

Only that—only that. Yet upon sensing Masa’s presence, I realised I had crossed into a realm from which there was no return.

He heard.

日本語版の原文はこのマガジンからお読みになれます⤵