My name is Tokita Ryuma, and I believe I have just made my first friend in my entire life.
***
Another year has passed since I regained my sight. I'm quite certain of this because I have experienced two winter seasons since then.
Let me tell you about my friend. Meet B-three, the creature I once believed was eating my brain. Over the past year, I've been observing it, and I've discovered many intriguing and somewhat depressing things about it. In the process, we've even become friends, although I must admit that this friendship seems a bit one-sided.
First and foremost, B-three has no definite form. It's a black, slimy liquid that stretches out tentacles, using them to grab and hold objects. At first, I thought B-three was consuming my brain, but in reality, it was repairing me—bringing me back to life. I have absolutely no idea how it managed to do this, but I'm certain of one thing: B-three was the reason I regained my eyesight a year after the accident.
As months passed and I continued to watch B-three, another creature of its kind appeared. This one was red in color. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it seemed like they were having some sort of disagreement. Without hesitation, B-three absorbed the red creature, and afterward, I noticed that some red hues began to appear within B-three. Apart from that, not much else happened. It felt like time was standing still as I watched B-three continue its work inside my head.
I spent months watching B-three at work, unable to sleep. My brain, not yet fully functioning, seemed incapable of rest. This left me wondering what was actually powering my mind. How could I be dead and still capable of thought? It didn't make any sense.
One day, B-three slowly crawled down from my open head. It used its tentacles to open my shirt and then pierced them into my heart. I couldn't feel what was happening in my body, but I had this instinctual feeling that it was grabbing hold of my heart. It was as if some deep-seated human instinct kicked in, despite the fact that I hadn't yet regained my sense of touch or feeling. I was more like a husk, unable to tell what was really going on.
Suddenly, my body jolted as if I'd been electrocuted. For a brief moment, I felt a spark flowing throughout my torso, and then it vanished. Once again, I couldn't feel a thing.
B-three climbed back to my head, continuing whatever it was doing up there, but some of its tentacles remained stuck in my chest.
'I'm just a lab rat now,' I thought, laughing dryly to myself. But I couldn't hear the laughter, nor did my mouth move. It was all happening inside my head.
Then, out of nowhere, I began to hear noises—loud noises. The clanging of metals, the sound of wood being cut with saws, the hammering of metal, and many other sounds. I could hear people laughing, crying, and conversing. I could hear radio and television broadcasts. I could hear it all.
'What the hell…?! I shouted in my mind. I think... I think I can hear! Is this B-three's doing?
'Oh my god!' I was in tears, but nothing fell from my eyes.
Is this what happiness feels like? I'm overjoyed. I used to think that happiness was staring at my wide screen and stroking my... well, let's just say I thought happiness was something superficial. But this... this is something else. I can't even begin to explain it in words.
"Hey B-three, thanks so much, bro. I don't know how I can ever repay you." I cried, but it didn't hear me—or so I thought.
"Kkrrrk."
'What the...?'
At first, I thought I was hearing things, but it was definitely B-three trying to communicate. It spoke to me, though I couldn't understand a word.
'Hey B-three, what did you say?' I asked, my eyes wide open, staring at it.
"Krrak skkrr kkrhrh," it replied. I couldn't make sense of its words, but at that moment, I was simply happy to be alive.
Months passed after I regained my hearing. It was somewhat irritating at first, but I gradually got used to it. And that wasn't all. I didn't just regain my sense of hearing—it was enhanced as if I had undergone some kind of system upgrade. I could hear things from miles away, which, in the beginning, was the main source of my irritation.
'Oh god, I'm so happy. I just wish this could last forever,' I said.
"Krrhhk krhh," B-three responded.
"Right? Nothing lasts forever," I acknowledged.
My experience in school wasn't something I kept from my mother. I told her everything, from how I was beaten to a pulp by seniors and some of my classmates, to how I was forced to lick their shoes. Don't get the wrong idea—I wasn't a coward. I fought back countless times, but every time I did, I was beaten again. I came home with new injuries every day, and eventually, it got so bad that I was admitted to the hospital. I was given a bed and stayed there for over two weeks. My mom visited me every day, and every time she did, she would tell me something that really annoyed me at the time. But as time passed, I began to understand her words. She said:
"Nothing is permanent. Bad times are not permanent, and good times are also not permanent."
She urged me to find peace in conflicts and hope in despair.
My mom was a good woman, but I hated her. Not because she was good, but because she didn't understand me—she didn't understand how my life worked. My hatred for her grew as time went on, until the day I finally realized who she truly was. I realized the kind of life she had lived. I realized that it wasn't her who misunderstood me; it was I who had misunderstood her.
It was then that I understood what she really meant by "finding peace in conflicts, hope in despair."
I was her peace. I was her hope. That's why she pampered me. But in return, I couldn't do a single thing for her. I left home, leaving her alone, yet I continued to leech off her. I'm a terrible son, and she was a perfect mother—too perfect for a wasted son like me.
"I'm sorry, Mom. Please be safe. Don't worry about me—I will be fine. Please be safe, Mom."