11 – Corpse

Oops, I thought when I saw the blood dripping from my fingertip.

The pain didn't come until after I noticed the cut, even though I felt it happen. I got the distinctive taste of iron when I put my finger in my mouth. The strange thought occurred that even now, this odd-tasting red substance was circulating throughout my body.

Kururu finished setting the rice cooker and gave an exasperated sigh when she saw me sucking on my fingertip like a baby. "You've never used a kitchen knife, huh?"

"O-Oh! ...That's not it. Um, you know how they tell you to curl your hand like a cat's paw? Well, I was thinking cats don't always curl their paws, and I subconsciously relaxed my hand."

"A fine excuse for sure, but make sure you clean and bandage it properly."

"’Kaaaaay."

More or less scolded, I took out the first aid kit for a bandage. I got a nostalgic feeling from the mixed smell of bandages and antiseptic as I looked for something waterproof. I wondered when the last time I'd looked for a bandage at home had been.

"I never imagined you'd want a lesson in cooking. They say letting your blade get rusty has consequences, but I didn't think the rust would be this bad."

"Well, I didn't have much choice. I blurted out that I'd make curry."

I called Kururu on a Saturday afternoon and convinced her to give me a cooking class. She worked part time at an izakaya, so she was the perfect fit to teach home cooking.

My parents weren't home today. It sounded like they would be back in the evening, but when I told Mother that I wanted to use the kitchen, she looked at me like I'd just gotten engaged. She got emotional and said, "You're at that age…"

True, I've never cooked at home, and I turned polished rice back into dirt when I made it in the classroom and forgot to add water to the rice cooker. It was like Kururu said, if a terrible chef like me was thinking about cooking, then I had to clean the rust from my blade.

"It's fine if you want to show off to Asami-san, but I wasn't expecting you'd need me to start with the basics."

"Thank you very much Lord Kururu."

"Slash their own fingers, samurai do not. Here, now for the potatoes. Try peeling them. It's okay if you cut off a little too much."

Kururu was a drill sergeant. She wouldn't let me put the knife down, even when I made mistakes. By the way, I was peeling a carrot when I cut myself.

"Peeling skin is my specialty."

"That's the knife's specialty, not yours."

She slapped me on the butt, like she was telling me to hurry it up. I suppose that's they meant by working like a horse. I stifled a groan from the slap and cut into the potato's skin.

"You're pretty friendly with Asami-san, huh?"

"Hm? What makes you say that?"

"Well, you're learning to cook for her, aren't you?"

"Ah, yeah, I guess I am. Tateha said her mom doesn't come home very much, and she's making do with convenience store box lunches and side dishes by the sounds of it. But homemade food is better, right? So, I offered to make her something."

Thunk. The piece that fell off the potato wasn't just the skin, but a big chunk of the tuber. I cut too much. I knicked my fingertips when I tried to make the peels thinner, though. That scared me, and I got depressed when I saw my first-ever batch of peeled potatoes came out as cubes.

I tossed the potato cubes and blood-stained carrots into the pot. Next up were the onions. The first cut alone was enough to work up steady stream of tears.

"Oh, that's nice of you."

"Is it really? Doesn't that seem lonely to you? Being home alone, I mean. She told me she streams TV and radio to hide it."

"Well, if you can cook, you've got an excuse to visit. I don't think that's a bad thing, but I'd say you're being extra about it."

"Is that a complement?"

"Ask me again once you're actually able to cook. Hey, the onions need to be as thin you can make them."

Kururu's eagle eyes kept sharp watch on my fingertips. The sound of a knife blade chopping the cutting board echoed through the kitchen. After I was done with the onions, which looked a little *too* finely chopped, I tossed them in with the carrots and potatoes.

Once I browned everything, I added the fried pork we made earlier. "It's annoying having to measure water at each and every step," I grumbled, and was rewarded with another slap to the butt. The sound filled the kitchen just like the knife chopping.

I covered the pot and set the timer. While it ticked away, I threw out all of the garbage. Kururu explained that cooking is a matter of time and efficiency.

"The sports festival is next week, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. I wonder what a high school sports festival is like."

"I don't think it's any different from middle school."

The two of us watched the pot burble. We couldn't help but laugh with amusement when we noticed we were both watching with arms crossed.

"Why don't you make Asami-san a bento for sports day?"

"Ahh, right. She'd have to bring something since the school cafe won't be open, wouldn't she?"

"A convenience store bento is a little bland for sports day, isn't it? She'll definitely be happy if you give her something you made."

I wondered what kind of reaction Tateha would have to a bento I made. I could picture her looking grateful, happy, and laughing, but not much else. I stared up at the kitchen vent fan, which reminded me of a line graph that didn't deviate from the trend.

"Yeah, great! I'll learn how to cook by then!" I got psyched up and rolled up my sleeves, but my only duty was watching a pot boil. So, I put my full energy into waiting.

"Still as good-natured as ever, huh."

The fuzzy, invisible contours of Kururu’s words hung in the air like the steam rising from the pot.

"You think?"

"Yeah, you haven't changed since middle school."

Kururu became my friend back in our first year of middle school, when we were seat neighbors. My initial impression of her was that she seemed smart. She read books in the classroom from the day we started school, and her bookbag was bursting with textbooks. She gave off the impression of a bright student, if not an honors student.

There was this time in English class when we had to talk to our seatmates. For my part, my English was up to the occasion. I think I'm relatively fluent speaker. Kururu though? Totally useless. "Ai amu a… a… pen? Pen… ‘Am I a pen’?" She frowned as she brooded on her own question in broken English. I couldn't help but burst into laughter.

We started high school and Kururu was the same as ever, getting the weirdgirl treatment. As far as I could tell, she got treated that way because she hadn't changed since middle school.

"Wasn't there a girl getting bullied in the class next door?"

"Ah, yeah."

"Do you remember what you did when they ripped up her clothes and it looked like she was about to cry?"

"Um, didn't I give her my gym clothes or something? And then I tried to go to the class next door as much as I could so she'd have someone to hang out with."

"The bullying died down faster than anyone could notice when you did that."

I missed that time in my life. I gather that I was pretty busy running all over the school building in my sailor uniform.

"I knew there was some vicious bullying taking place in that class, but what did it have to do with me? It was that girl's problem to handle, and we had no business getting involved. But you didn't see it that way. You tried to save her with your own two hands. That's why you're good-natured."

That was a complement, I think? Kururu's face didn't really show emotion, but since she was looking right at me and not teasing me, I guessed I should take it as one.

"You're trying to rescue Asami-san this time."

"It's not that big a deal. It's just, when it comes to her…"

There's a sin I have to atone for.

Not that I could tell Kururu that kind of thing, though. As I kept my mouth shut, the timer rang. I broke up the roux and added it to the pot before setting the kitchen timer again. "How many more times do I gotta set this?" I grumbled. Kururu glared at me.

"Is it still… happening?"

"Huh?"

"The abuse."

She got her feelings across simply, in as few words as possible. So, I told her that it wasn't a big deal anymore, as simply as I could.

"No. Not anymore."

"I see."

"They're better. If anything, they're almost too overprotective."

"If that's how it is, good."

The finished curry hardly tasted any different from what we usually had at home. To think something this delicious was ready to serve just by cutting a few vegetables and adding roux. We enjoyed the curry we made together, treating it like an early dinner. I even had a second helping, against my better judgement.

I finished washing the dishes and stored the leftover curry in the fridge. Apparently its richness would deepen once I let it rest overnight. When I asked Kururu what richness was, though, I could practically see the question marks floating over her head. Seems not even the teacher knew. I grinned—her blank expression looked exactly like it did when we first met.

The meal didn't just warm my body; it warmed my heart too. Maybe it was a sense of accomplishment. Maybe it was happiness. Wrapped in the comfortable feeling of satisfaction and sipping on afternoon tea, I grew suspicious of happiness being so simple. I thought about how nice it would be to pass moments like this with Tateha. The possibility of finding tranquility like this when visiting her made my heart stir.

I saw Kururu to the door once she finished getting ready to go home around sunset.

"U-um. Kururu…"

"What's up?" Kururu looked over her shoulder, confused. The more she studied my face, the more I was certain I was that it was twitching.

"If… if I told you I killed someone… would you help me bury the corpse?" It felt like the spices I had forgotten to add to the curry had shown up late and were burning the back of my tongue. My throat went dry immediately, and it felt like all of my mucous membranes were glued together.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Never mind that. Would you?"

Kururu's eyebrows knit as she put her hand on her chin to think. "In that case, hmm. I think I'd report you to the police."

"You wouldn't help me out?"

"No, obviously not? Why would I take the fall for a crime you committed? People who commit a serious crime deserve equally serious time."

Kururu had a normal sense of values and a healthy sense of justice. I suppose she was a better judge of those.

She shrugged when I couldn't say anything in response. "You're not the type to murder someone. You don't need to worry about it."

"What makes you think that?!"

"Well, it's you we're talking about. You show up to help anyone in trouble. I've seen it with my own eyes. You're a good person, Ruri."

I realized I was approaching a point of no return. I had turned into mush a long time ago, breaking down to the point where not even I could recognize my personality. What I thought of me and what other people thought of me was different. My present existence was nothing more than an illusion.

Even though Kururu found out that I was abused, she didn't say a thing. She worried about it, thought about it, and most of all, didn't consider severing her connection to me. She didn't treat me any differently. So, I ended up thinking maybe, just maybe, I could tell her. That maybe it would be okay to tell her… my past... about the things I did.

How convienent for me.

Maybe I could have told her if we hadn't grown so close. So close, you could even call us best friends. The stronger something is, the louder it will fall. It's unbelievably scary.

The tepid breeze that blew in from outside caressed my consciousness. I smiled vaguely. It's a good thing I didn't tell her. It's good I didn't go insane, washed off my berth and carried out to sea riding the crest of a good day.

"But…" Kururu looked over her shoulder as she was about to close the door. "If you're atoning for a crime, I'm happy to help."

With those words alone, Kururu departed.