Totsuka, who had been completely broken by Yuta's barrage of attacks, was thoroughly washed over by the cruel, terrifyingly dark reality behind Yuta.
Tears streamed uncontrollably from Totsuka's eyes.
She was now like a child told, "Ultraman doesn't exist."
"This… what you're saying…
What you're saying… Of course I know that…"
Totsuka's eyes were red, and she knelt powerlessly on the ground, letting her tears drip onto her clothes. Her fantasy was being crushed by merciless reality, making it difficult for her to accept it again…
Yuta, representing reality, forced Totsuka to extinguish her own fantasies, making her understand that everything she had once held dear was so powerless, so false…
"Of course I know that—"
Totsuka ran off, wailing, her tears never stopping.
Yuta watched Totsuka leave, his heart already riddled with holes. If Totsuka was like this, how could he, Rikka's boyfriend, not know what Rikka was truly hoping for, or what was truly wrong with Rikka now?
But Yuta was in a more difficult position than Totsuka. He knew far more than Totsuka; he had been caught between Rikka's two worlds for so long…
On one side was Rikka, and on the other were Rikka's family, and even more so, reality.
How painful it was for him, and no one could comfort him. What he wanted to say was never these things.
Tears also flowed from Yuta's eyes. He covered his face in pain, only to hide his endless sorrow.
Was there really no one who could comfort him?
Someone provided an answer.
Suddenly, the sound of a can opening nearby drew Yuta's attention. Yuta looked back and saw Fang Wuwei leaning against a bus stop sign, holding a drink and silently sipping it.
"…When did you get here?"
"I've been here the whole time. Now I see you're pitiful, so I came out to comfort you."
"Who needs it?!"
"You do, Yuta, you really do."
Fang Wuwei stared quietly at Yuta, meeting his gaze. As Yuta looked into Fang Wuwei's black eye, a strange sense of grievance suddenly welled up.
"…Wuwei, did I really do the right thing?"
"That, you'll have to ask yourself, Yuta. Do you have an answer?"
Yuta fell silent, lowering his head, at a loss.
"Yuta, you did the right thing. Rikka does need to grow, and she needs to change, but not this kind of change… Yuta, don't you think Rikka has been abnormal lately?"
"…Hmm, how could I not know?"
"Lately, Rikka has been living in the shadow of others, living in what's called 'normal.' So Yuta, what is normal?"
This question stumped Yuta. He really wanted to say that what the public considered normal was normal.
But was that normal? Was it?
So, what exactly was Chunibyo?
"Yuta, if you can live happily, what does it matter if you live in your own world?
You used to have Chunibyo too. You should be able to understand what Chunibyo truly is, and what loneliness is."
Fang Wuwei took two steps, lifted his eye patch, revealing his Sharingan.
"Do you see? Besides always wearing an eye patch, besides this Sharingan, is there any other way I seem like I have Chunibyo?"
Yuta thought carefully. Indeed, there wasn't. Wuwei had always been very normal, never acting foolish in public, no strange lines, no odd titles. In fact, when Rikka and others acted foolish, he would distance himself, acting as if he didn't know them.
"No, besides this Sharingan, I'm just an ordinary high school student.
But am I really not Chunibyo? And what's with my eye?
…It's strange, isn't it? Very contradictory."
He truly wasn't. The Sharingan wasn't something he wanted to keep permanently, but he had no choice; he could only live with an eye patch. No matter how careful or normal he was usually, he was still considered to have Chunibyo… at most, a mild case.
Simply because he was different.
"Yuta, people are bound by certain things throughout their lives. They represent the gaze of others, the prejudices of others… and even the cage within one's own heart.
Is it freedom to live within it? Is it happiness? Yuta, answer me honestly, are you happier now, or were you more carefree during your middle school days?
Ask yourself, how much of what you just said to Totsuka was actually directed at yourself? I believe you understand this principle."
"No… Wuwei, things that don't exist, simply don't exist. Even if I support Rikka, what good will it do?!"
Fang Wuwei silently put on his eye patch. Since Yuta wanted to know, he would tell him.
"Yuta, do gods really exist? Do Buddhas really exist? You and I both know the answer. So, does it matter if the invisible boundary line truly exists?"
This single sentence struck Yuta hard.
Fang Wuwei walked towards Yuta, but Yuta refused to look up. Seeing this, Fang Wuwei merely patted Yuta's shoulder.
"If you regret it, come find me anytime."
Brushing past Yuta, Fang Wuwei no longer questioned him. He could only go this far.
Growth is never about suppressing oneself. How can growth that compromises with the secular world be considered growth? In growth, people's sharp edges are gradually smoothed, but it doesn't turn them into perfectly smooth, edgeless pebbles.
The rest was up to Yuta.
Yuta stood rooted to the spot for a moment, still having some questions. When he looked back, Fang Wuwei was gone.
"...What the heck, so mysterious…"
Wiping away his tears, Yuta went home…
.........
Rikka returned to her old home smoothly and, accompanied by her mother, arrived at a cemetery completely unfamiliar to her.
She had never been there before. This was… her first time seeing her father… her father now.
Her father was no longer as he was in her beautiful memories: tall, strong, reliable, with sturdy arms and a warm embrace.
Her father now was short, small, square, and motionless…
Reaching out to touch her father's body, that tombstone… she only felt cold, a cold that went from her heart to her body.
Her mother was very happy. Rikka had come out of it, forgiven herself, learned to accept reality, and learned to be obedient and communicate normally, which put her even more at ease.
Her grandparents were even happier. Her grandmother aside, her grandfather had never been able to accept the old Rikka; it seemed only the present, well-behaved Rikka was his good granddaughter.
"Let's give Papa a wash."
Rikka turned back, looking at her smiling mother, and a faint smile appeared on her face as she agreed to her mother's request.
Picking up a wooden ladle, she scooped a large amount of water and slowly poured it down from the top of the tombstone…
But this act was actually wrong, it was 'abnormal'.
"If you suddenly pour water from the top, Papa will complain that it's cold."
Cold…
Papa… if he could really tell me he was cold, how wonderful that would be…