When I learnt what happened to Ibuki, my mind returned to those four years of horror. His struggle and pain were visible on his face, but mine was buried deep under my smile. Ibuki always tried to hide his pain while I struggled to let it out. While he wanted to end his life, I wanted to free my life of the pain. I was jealous of the fact he could let his pain out. I was struggling to find that vessel through which my pain would leave me.
When I first met Ibuki, getting bullied and unable to fight back, I was reminded of my helplessness that lasted four years. In those years, no one saved me, but then I promised I would save him if I saw someone in that position. I stood up for Ibuki because no one stood up for me.
Then I saw Ibuki get along with what happened to him with no grief. I felt torn. Bearing pain is not easy. Ibuki was dealing with it as if he was used to it. And as I found out, he was. That day, I saw in him both strength and a habit of facing pain.
I knew what he went through. He told me how he felt, and I denied feeling the same. I was lying. I felt a burden dragging me down. To him, that burden was not being able to get rid of the pain. For me, it was the burden of carrying the pain rather than sharing it.
After he was rescued from the facility, I met Ibuki about thrice. Once we went to the movies together. There, I told him the truth about my past. His words still stay with me,
"Your pain remained with you not because you weren't able to let it out but that you were not willing to."
All these years, I had kept my pain within me because I was not willing to pull it out of him. Your mouth will not speak unless you are willing to let the words out.
The End