The bell over the door chimes once and a figure walks in.
"Komban wa, Omi-kun!"
I smile automatically at the girl.
"Konnichiwa, Tamoka-san. Daijibou?
"Fine! And you?
I smile. The smile is forced, but of course she does not know that. Nobody knows that. A smile does not seem forced if it looks the same as it has every day for the past… how many years now? Ever since that day… more than ten years, definitely. I cannot remember exactly, and I do not try. Why should I?
For a moment I humor myself with the notion of telling her the truth. But, of course, I do not. Because there is no way, really, of telling a friend that nothing she knows about you is true. What would I say? "Well, not so good actually. You see, I'm actually an assassin. That's right, I kill people. And I have been for so long that I can't remember anything else. I know what it feels like to kill a man. You know how some people try to say that video games are too violent, that they promote murder? It's a load of shit. Because in a video game, you push a button. And a figure on the screen swings a fake sword or shoots a fake gun, and the enemy dies. Just like that. A little blood may spatter, but it never gets on your clothes. And then your money runs out, or your mother tells you to get off that damn Nintendo and do your homework, and the screen goes dark and nothing is changed. See, in the real world, when you kill someone, they don't die instantly. You see this horrified look in their eyes as they realize they are about to die. And then you know that they are thinking about someone they love, their mother or sister or son. And you know they never thought this would happen, not really. They thought they would win, just like you thought you would. And you realize that they were as convinced that what they were doing was right as you are. And then you realize that you have taken away the life of a man or a woman who might have been like you. Who knows? Under different circumstances they might have been on your side. Or you on theirs… They tell you after the first few times you won't mind as much, and pretty soon you don't. It's just a routine. Part of your job. You go out there and kill someone, and then you clean the blood off your clothes and go to sleep. But you know what the funny thing is? Even when you don't mind it so much anymore, even after you stop having the nightmares every night, you never seem to get all the blood out. There always seems to be a little bit left every time, and pretty soon if you wear the same thing too much it seems like it's completely covered in blood. Nobody else notices, though. Isn't that funny?
I used to take long showers. It never seemed like I got very clean. I would stand there for a long time, just letting the water run off me, almost like I thought I could wash the blood away. I never could, though. And eventually the water would get cold, or someone would need to use the bathroom, and I would turn off the water, and dry off, and get dressed. And I didn't feel quite clean. But you get used to that. Now I don't take such long showers. So I guess everything I've told you about me is a lie. Thanks so much for asking, and have a nice day!
No, I cannot say that. So I say the only thing I can say.
"Fine, thanks for asking."
Remotely, I wonder if I am lying. Then I shake my head, and smile. A forced smile. Because that is what I should do.
It doesn't matter.
"Komban wa, Omi-kun!"
I smile automatically at the girl.
"Konnichiwa, Tamoka-san. Daijibou?
"Fine! And you?
I smile. The smile is forced, but of course she does not know that. Nobody knows that. A smile does not seem forced if it looks the same as it has every day for the past… how many years now? Ever since that day… more than ten years, definitely. I cannot remember exactly, and I do not try. Why should I?
For a moment I humor myself with the notion of telling her the truth. But, of course, I do not. Because there is no way, really, of telling a friend that nothing she knows about you is true. What would I say? "Well, not so good actually. You see, I'm actually an assassin. That's right, I kill people. And I have been for so long that I can't remember anything else. I know what it feels like to kill a man. You know how some people try to say that video games are too violent, that they promote murder? It's a load of shit. Because in a video game, you push a button. And a figure on the screen swings a fake sword or shoots a fake gun, and the enemy dies. Just like that. A little blood may spatter, but it never gets on your clothes. And then your money runs out, or your mother tells you to get off that damn Nintendo and do your homework, and the screen goes dark and nothing is changed. See, in the real world, when you kill someone, they don't die instantly. You see this horrified look in their eyes as they realize they are about to die. And then you know that they are thinking about someone they love, their mother or sister or son. And you know they never thought this would happen, not really. They thought they would win, just like you thought you would. And you realize that they were as convinced that what they were doing was right as you are. And then you realize that you have taken away the life of a man or a woman who might have been like you. Who knows? Under different circumstances they might have been on your side. Or you on theirs… They tell you after the first few times you won't mind as much, and pretty soon you don't. It's just a routine. Part of your job. You go out there and kill someone, and then you clean the blood off your clothes and go to sleep. But you know what the funny thing is? Even when you don't mind it so much anymore, even after you stop having the nightmares every night, you never seem to get all the blood out. There always seems to be a little bit left every time, and pretty soon if you wear the same thing too much it seems like it's completely covered in blood. Nobody else notices, though. Isn't that funny?
I used to take long showers. It never seemed like I got very clean. I would stand there for a long time, just letting the water run off me, almost like I thought I could wash the blood away. I never could, though. And eventually the water would get cold, or someone would need to use the bathroom, and I would turn off the water, and dry off, and get dressed. And I didn't feel quite clean. But you get used to that. Now I don't take such long showers. So I guess everything I've told you about me is a lie. Thanks so much for asking, and have a nice day!
No, I cannot say that. So I say the only thing I can say.
"Fine, thanks for asking."
Remotely, I wonder if I am lying. Then I shake my head, and smile. A forced smile. Because that is what I should do.
It doesn't matter.
