(Ab)Normal Days - Shin Hayashi (closure.)
Shin remained silent for a long time.
Perhaps he was satisfied with himself, but perhaps not. The expression on his face couldnât be read further than a solid brick of steel. One person talked, another, another, another, Jaz shoved him, Jaz died (karmic retribution?) and then more people talked.
But Shin figured it could be his turn to talk again.
ââNot many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.â James 3:1.â
He looked unimpressed, as he had throughout the whole trial.
âProfessinâ yer moral superiority; âsall yer doinâ. You play with fire, you get burnt.â
âYou have no idea who I am. Got plenty aâ friends back home, trust âem with m'life. Y'ainât gonna get nowhere thinkinâ yerself above a trusting relationship. Youâre gonna die here one day thinkinâ like that. That what you want? Yer the only one gonna carry Jazâs memory outta here, and you gonna let her down like that? Fine. Ainât no skin off my ass. You c'n trust, or you câd isolate yerself. Go it alone. Get picked off. Simple pack animal instincts. Pick yer poison.â
A mere glance at Yori, a hint of surprise behind the crowâs feet only beginning to settle in the corners of Shinâs eyes.
âQuite frankly, I donât give a damn, nor have I ever given a damn, nor will I ever give a damn what you do. I'm tellinâ you that forgiving someone who was gonna murder you is fuckinâ stupid. And now yer tryinâ t'justify yer stupidity by misinterpreting what Iâm sayinâ. I donât give a damn if you donât wanna hoot 'nâ holler. Hell, I donât wanna do that, neither. All Iâm sayinâ is, seems an awful lot like you donât give a damn about yer life. Y'keep goinâ on like this, yer gonna be easy pickinâs for someone. I'm doing you a favor. You can accept my advice, or y'can go on down that trail t'death. Yer only pickinâ up yer pace. Ainât long before the lion spots the wounded antelope.â
âCan it. Y'used âwhomâ incorrectly, and frankly, all this hocus pocus nonsense is gettinâ t'be more tirinâ than⊠Quaint, as it might have been as a stretch. Y'ainât above nobody just b'cause you claim t'see ghosts. Aâcourse y'require rest. Ainât yâ been restinâ the whole damn time anyways? Have a good fuckinâ sleep, see yâ next trial.â
"Sure, y'can call 'em good people. Maybe theyâre good. But theyâre weak. Itâs th'weakness in us thatâs fuckinâ us over. We canât pull our shit together for one goddamn week, not one aâ these motives, b'cause someone decides that being exposed, in a private setting, for blackmail is worth takinâ someoneâs life. I ainât arguinâ that maybe some of the people hereâre good - obviously, this whole secrets nonsense proved otherwise - Iâm arguinâ y'all're weak. Wounded antelopes. Walking meat. The hungriest, most desperate lionâs gonna bite eventually. Th'key is t'fill yer own damn self. Clearly a tactic employed by the minority, if things keep goinâ th'way theyâre goinâ.â
He didnât say a word to Jaz. All he showed to her in her final moments, if she looked, were the remnants of a smirk in those crowâs feet.
âYes, I can. Why? Half b'cause I know some other idiotâs gonna murder b'efore I gotta crack, and b'cause I realize that we donât know shit about the outside no more. Whatâs happened? Hell, I donât know. Maybe everythingâs gone t'shit. Maybe I donât have no damn family anymore, wouldnât be much of a change. Y'gotta see it from a more bleak perspective. If we gotta live down here forever, fuck it, 'sbetter than not livinâ.â
âAnd another damn thing, Ms. High and Mighty, Ms. Moral High Horse, Ms. I Make The Judgments 'round Here. Y'callinâ everyone a murderer for sentencinâ a killer t'death? Whereâs y'fuckin' sense? Y'lost yer damn mind? Socially accepted vengeance⊠If I ainât never heard no pseudo-psychological horsehockey. We ain't forced t'murder in the first place, kid. Weâre given a push. See what we do. We're forced to execute someone. We're forced to find the killer and punish them for their crimes, their weakness. Deep down I know Iâm doinâ the right thing. Deep down I know sentencinâ Jaz t'her death was the right thing. B'cause even if we voted for Date, weâd be settinâ a killer free. The criers are the weak. Y'heard it here first, folks. Weak. This fuckinâ hostage situation preys on weakness and itâs deliverinâ.â
A slow shake of the head. Folding of arms.
âPeople can be victims and culprits in the same space. They ainât identities existinâ in a vacuum. Weâre all victims, sure, but she sure as shit ainât innocent. She killed somebody, Suzume. Y'gonna get that through y'head? Murdered. I ainât murder nobody. You ainât murder nobody. She did. She got exactly what was goddamn cominâ t'her. You can try to play the sympathetic card, you can try to claim your highground. Plant yer flag and let it wave. May it be high enough the blood wonât reach.â
He didnât back down, nor flinch.
ââŠAnd now yer claiminâ superiority through martyrdom. Share yer secrets, get yer dose of sympathy. Itâs a fuckin' drug to you people, ainât it? Itâs a fuckinâ drug, and thatâs why y'allâre pushinâ back against the truth. Jaz, Date, these people're murderers. We ainât killinâ 'em. Weâre workinâ within the only system we got in our best damn attempt t'make sure ainât nothinâ happens again. But no, every time, itâs a moral dilemma, as if we even have the damn privilege of this dilemma.â
He shook his head, turning back toward the elevator.
âRest in peace t'those who were killed. Rest in hell t'those who were the killers. Y'all can criticize and say itâs "black-and-whiteâ all y'want.â
He surveyed his class, giving a disapproving shake of his head.
"Youâll find the lions to yer antelopes in due time.â
The door shut. He wanted to take the elevator alone.