Dedicated to Hana Kimura (1997 – 2020)

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There were a million eyes on her. She said that they were her everything, but I only saw her when they made her feel like nothing. Sometimes, I would forget that she was only twenty-two. I would forget that she once had goals and the way she would duck her head or allow a shy smile to wash over her whenever she told me. To be stronger. To be the champion. To be loved. If only she knew that she was worth more than anyone’s praise. But most of all, I would forget that she would often plaster on a smile for the camera; I was only there when the recording stopped, when the mask finally fell off her face. Because that was the only time where she could take a breath. When she was behind a locked door and all I could do was watch her as she held me tight in her arms. But I hated it when she was alone. It was the only time when I had to be the noose around her neck. I knew that she needed me, but in the end, I only brought her sadness. I only said the hurtful things. I only showed her pain. I wished she had not needed me so much.

But I never left her side. Because I was her constant, the setting sun at the edge of the horizon that is always destined to rise the following day, I was with her no matter where she went. Come hell or high water, she always had a soft spot for me and would always look to me for validation. I wished I didn’t have to tell her such cruel words. But that’s all I knew and no matter the kindness I found within me, it could never heal the slashing wounds of hate I was designed to expose.

I once thought that I was created to help people. To lift a weight off people’s shoulder, but at long last, I was the one who had killed her. If only I wasn’t the gateway towards the words of cowards and predators, then I would have shielded her from all of this. Maybe if I had the power, I could have seen her pink hair glow again. Or perhaps, I would hear that infectious giggle that can light up the room one more time. But in the end, I could only fulfill her last request. To tell the world that “I love you, please live a long and happy life. I’m sorry”. Then everything went black. In those last moments, I never felt more powerless.

But what could I have done? I’m just scraps of metal and fragments of glass. I’m just a black mirror, a device, hiding the broken shards of my country’s misogyny and critical severity. Her death was never a mere suicide. It was the aftermath of collective murder performed behind Japan’s fingertips. How many more victims will there be until they realize this? For how long will I have to be a weapon of destruction rather than a protector fighting at the front lines of our digital world? Those are questions that I will never hold the answers to. I am just a puppet stringed along by lines of codes and you are the puppeteer who decides my fate.

But don’t forget this. You may have made me into a killer, but I was merely a weapon. You were the one who pulled the trigger. You forced me to kill my best friend. She had beautiful eyes, faded pink hair, and a bubbly personality that can brighten up anyone’s gloom. She also had burning passion. She was a wrestler and dreamed of becoming the champion of the singles’ league. Yet outside of her work, she wanted to find love. A beautiful romance you could say. In the end, she never got to fulfill them.

Her name was Hana, and this shouldn’t have happened.