Run Over Chapter 3.2

The Traducer
Chapter 3 Part 2

That day, I couldn't wait until the end of school. The bruises from Fushimi's kicks (I already ripped off the compress) ached, Fushimi looked at me unkindly, Hara looked at me scared, and the lesson was tiring, everything looked completely alien. I couldn't understand whether my consciousness was floating or sinking, and I tried to distract myself by remembering some memories. From time to time, I checked on the object in my pocket. This was how I spent the day.

The lesson started, the lesson finished, started, finished, started, finished.

Bell. Bell. Bell.

I barely noticed how today's lessons ended, and, the second the order to go home was heard, I grabbed Hara and headed towards the literature club. There, we just waited until enough time went by.

"W-we're really going to do this?" Hara asked me.

"If we don't, nothing will change."

Time pa.s.sed slowly, and the partic.i.p.ants of the club began to arrive at around five. Almost all of them were in my cla.s.s, and I didn't see anyone unexpected. Simply speaking, they just made this a place to get-together or something like that. These guys studied me, so I pretended that I was just looking around, and began to walk around the room. There was nothing here except the long table, pipe chairs, and the bookcase which had faded-from-the-sun books, so I just took the club journal from the shelf. There was a fairly good image on the rough-looking cover. Turning the first page, I saw a list of names of all the people that just arrived here. As if someone was going to write a story about them.

"S-stop, don't look!…" When I tried to turn the next page, the journal was s.n.a.t.c.hed from my hands.

It was taken by Uchida, who, in our cla.s.s, and not just in our cla.s.s, never stood out with anything.

"What's with you? Was the cover not decorated for it to be looked at?"

"No, not for that. We must be doing something, otherwise we won't get credit for the club activities. I only write them for this."

"Are you trying so hard, that you don't want to show me?"

"Sorry…"

"Then why are you even in the literature club? Are you a moron or something?"

Uchida hesitated, with which he confirmed my thoughts on all this. Simply speaking, the kids liked to gather here, just to forget about the troubles of the world. The weaklings and the failures got together and complained to each other about their lives, and getting distracted from the pain and suffering. A bunch of excrement, not a club.

"You only come here to lick your wounds. What a literature club, there are only bottoms like you here. It's already enough you're like that in cla.s.s."

I felt a growing anger.

"I-Idzono-kun, that's too much…"

Before me stood the garbage, that could only look away and dream of who knows what. I just wanted to trample them. And here my phone vibrated. Minato's message, which already got delivered, said that it was time.

"At five hours and seven minutes in the afternoon, the second sports equipment warehouse."

The message called. The corners of my mouth lifted by themselves.

"We're going." I grabbed Hara by his collar and dragged him behind me. Hara, shaking, followed me.

***

Leaving the building where the literature club was, we walked between a hedge and the gloomy school building, rounded it, and reached the second sports equipment warehouse.

Minato wrote another message: "Look inside through the window."

All she did was send orders, the girl was nowhere close. But this didn't bother me. Silencing my steps, I crept up to the white painted warehouse wall, and found a small window near the corner.

There was about two metres to it. Even if I stood on tiptoe, it would be difficult to look inside, but fortunately, there was a desk nearby. Did Minato bring it from the furniture warehouse?

I ordered Hara to hold the desk, and without taking my shoes off, I got on top of it and glanced into the window covered in a thin layer of dust. Hara crossed his feet nervously and blinked quickly.

Through the dusty window, I discovered a ridiculous scene. Two four-legged animals had merged together. The stuck out and connected their tongues. Unclothed. Licked each other. One of them stayed standing, while the other knelt down. There was a chomping sound, as if crumpling a scarf. The two animals merged into one.

The chain of their actions seemed amusing. The face of the guy strained absurdly. The symptoms of moronism. My shoulders shook from laughter.

Wait a second. And why am I supposed to try and stay hidden, are they scaring me? Are they forcing me to hide? It's funny. My stomach might burst. From the laughter. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. Hara, who I dragged along with me, was dumbfounded. I was laughing. I glanced into the window again. The couple was dumbfounded, fully and completely, and not just in the casual places. And they looked at the dusty window, at my face through it. I was laughing. Jumped off the desk and pulled Hara towards me, he almost fell over. I took out the telescopic baton from my pocket. A piece of reinforced plastic, twenty four centimetres long. I kicked the door of the warehouse, and it opened with a thud.

Fushimi looked at us. Tanabe looked at us. Both of them almost completely naked. They looked like fools. Incredible fools. My belly will burst.

Fushimi was shouting something at me. He was shouting something at Hara. What are you staring at, perverts? Probably something like that. From these screams, Hara shrank. But I was laughing. Fushimi raised his voice some more, carrying illegible nonsense. Tanabe stayed silent, and I was laughing. The sound of my shoes on the floor sounded like a melody. There was the smell of sweat, dust, and bodily fluids in the dim lighting. I raised the rod made of reinforced plastic, and Fushimi finally noticed it. I was laughing. I waved the club. On his right hand. Right hand. Right hand. Left leg. Left leg. Left leg. The screams turned into whines. My hearing cleared. The way Fushimi bent over, covering the lower part of his body, looked very amusing. There was a laugh. My vocal chords shook the air, the skull, the eardrums. I was laughing. I tossed the club to Hara's hand, who was stupefied, and pointed a finger at Fushimi. Go on. Repay him with all that he did you to you. Hara stared at me with rounded eyes. The stiff lips twisted into something of a smile.

Come on, I said to Hara.
Come on, now, I said to Hara.
Take it quickly and do it, I said to Hara.
The weeping Hara squeezed out a smile.
Well at least he stopped blinking.

He looked at me. And I repeated, "Go ahead."

The shaking hand waved the club. The first hit was on the shoulder. I encouraged him with enthusiasm again. Hara waved the club again. He was scared, but he striked. He hit so hard, Fushimi, shocked to the depths of his soul, wasn't able to answer.

Scared, that someday he is going to be bullied again, Hara struck with the club, not holding back. Before, Hara defended himself just by being silent and enduring the pain. Now, everything turned upside down. In some way, this was revenge.

Hara paid for all the humiliation he received until now. He was used like a punching bag. Was forced to undress and crawl around the cla.s.s. His pride, dignity, and self-esteem were trampled into dust. They were torn out with their roots.

Payback. The return of the debts. The debts must be demanded back.

Hara changed into squeals, yelled something, but what – it was unknown.

"Stop beating me!" Fushimi pleaded through tears.

Hara didn't stop. He simply couldn't stop.

I was laughing. Hara was laughing. And waved around the baton. Again. Again. Our echo-deformed laughter was carried around the warehouse. Hara hit again and again. No one would come in here, and Hara knew this. He knew this from his own experience and so continued striking blow after blow, blow after blow.

Naked to the waist, Tanabe covered herself with a blouse and stared at Fushimi's beating in shock. I closed the warehouse door tightly.

Hara said something to Fushimi, after which he threw off his remaining clothes. Hara took out his smartphone and pointed it at the guy. The crying Fushimi, with a swollen, reddened hand, began to rub his c*ck, the condom still dangling on its end as Hara recorded it all on his phone.

Hara was doing the same that was done to him. So I didn't feel any sympathy for the victim. I just laughed the whole time, watching the action.

Fushimi screamed as he continued to touch himself.

Complete nonsense. If I hadn't seen this with my own eyes, I would have never believed it.

Every time Fushimi's hand stopped, Hara struck him with the club, and his bruises grew.

"Did you go crazy?!" Finally, Tanabe yelled, looking at her reddened, and in some places blued boyfriend.

Distracted from his fascinating business, Hara looked into Tanabe's face. He said something, he did nothing – he just looked at her. So what if went crazy? That's what his look said. Tanabe looked at me. I lifted my index finger and pointed it at Hara and Fushimi, showing her to silently watch.

That pale b*tch closed her mouth.

Fushimi didn't stop masturbating with his right hand, discolored from the blows.

I began to whistle the melody from yesterday "Amazing Grace."

These are the words of the song:
"Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!"

The atmosphere in the sports equipment warehouse became even more amusing. The sound of blows shook the body powerfully.

"I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see."

The unfolding action before me was challenging the usual situation. And because of this, emotions raged in me. Laughter poured out all by itself. Hara whipped Fushimi. The weak defeated the strong.

The events seemed like a well-known drama with sudden twists of the plot.

Laughter and the sounds of strikes provoked a flurry of emotions in my hardened heart.

The storming emotions, which stayed locked up in me for a long time, were intoxicated.

A hit. A strike. A blow.

As if enchanted, I didn't take my eyes off the scene before me. The sounds of clapping hands were heard inside my head, and they blessed us.

Edited by: Akshaythedon