Black and White (Part 2)

Mikoko-chan showed up on time.

"I'm not late today!" she said, giving a gleeful German salute with both hands. Though it was probably a given at this point, she was so hyper that you might think she had blown a circuit. She was dressed in a tight tank top and large, loose overalls. She also had her head deeply inserted into a yellow hat that looked like it belonged on a kindergartener (not to be mean or anything). There was something adorable about her reddish hair peeking out from under the brim. The tank top was just a bit too small, making it look like she was wearing overalls directly over nothing, which was, well, how do you say... Actually, I guess I didn't mind.

"Well, shall we go?"

I started to leave, but she immediately stopped me. "Oh, wait-wait-wait," she said, pushing me back into the room and entering herself without being invited. She had done this last time too. Maybe invading houses was one of her hobbies. Not a very sociable one, if you asked me.

"I brought you a little something today. To say thanks for spending the day with me."

No sooner had she said it than she opened her bag—a Boston bag different from her usual purse—and pulled out a lunch-box-like item wrapped in a bandana. She unwrapped it to reveal that it was actually Tupperware.

"Wow, what is it?"

"Treats," she said boastfully and opened it up. Inside were six pieces of the sweet potato-shaped like Mont Blanc. I could tell by the slight indents that these were handmade.

"Wow, so you do baking and stuff."

"Yup. But don't expect it to taste too good or anything."

"Can I eat 'em?"

"Of course. Oh, right." She pulled a thermos out of her bag, handed me a cup, and poured the contents of it. It was black tea, and Marco Polo, no less. So she had even come prepared to compensate for the fact that I didn't have anything besides water here. This girl didn't let anything get by her.

She prepared herself a cup of tea as well and flashed a nice smile. "Well, cheers."

I clinked glasses with her and popped a piece of sweet potato. Unfathomable sweetness immediately spread through-out the inside of my mouth. Of course, they were called sweet potatoes for nothing, but this didn't seem like an ordinary amount of sugar to me.

"Pretty sweet, huh?" I said, letting my true impressions show.

"Yep. I looove sweet stuff."

"You don't say." I nodded and popped the next one in my mouth. Yup. Sweet. Come to think of it, I hadn't had any breakfast that morning, so this was quite the convenient little surprise. But hey, hadn't Mikoko-chan said she didn't like sweet stuff before? It seemed to me like she may or may not have said that at one point. I couldn't seem to remember.

Well, whatever.

She was a girl, after all. You know how fickle they can be.

Within five minutes, the sweet potatoes had been completely consumed.

"Mikoko-chan, you're pretty good at cooking and stuff, huh?"

"Yep. It's because I was a latchkey kid."

"What's a... Latchkey kid?"

"Uhh, it means a kid who's home alone a lot. Kids, whose parents both work have to bring a house key with them to school, right?"

"Why?"

"Um, because if nobody's home, the door is going to be locked, right?" she continued, looking rather perplexed. "So that's why they call them latchkey kids."

"Oh... I get it."

I broke my eye contact with Mikoko-chan and stared up at the ceiling to hide my facial expression.

Well how about that, I thought. So households like that exist.

"Ikkun, did I say something wrong?"

"Huh? Why?"

"You're making a really weird face right now."

She didn't sound so much worried as nervous, almost frightened, even. I shook my head and said, "No, it's nothing." Yup, nothing at all. Why should something like that bother me?

"So should we really go now? Where do you want to go?"

"Huh?"

"You wanted to go shopping, right? I think that's what you said. Shinkyôgoku? Kyoto Station? Or do you want to go all the way to Osaka?"

"Oh. Umm. Umm."

She started to get flustered as if she hadn't even thought about it. Her eyes darted around looking for something or someone to save her, but ultimately looked back at me and said, "Uh, a-anywhere is fine."

What did that mean?

"You can't mean that. You're the one doing the shopping."

"There isn't any place in particular you want to go with me?"

"There isn't really anything I need. Living in a room like this, I only have space to buy things you can throw out quickly. It wouldn't make any sense to go shopping. Not that I'm against nonsense. There just really isn't anything I need to buy. What is it you wanted to buy?"

"Uh, well, you know, clothes and stuff."

"Huh."

"And I want to eat somewhere."

"Well, then I guess Kawara-machi's the way to go."

"Okay," she said.

I may not be the assertive type, but Mikoko-chan might have been even worse. Why did I have to decide where she would go shopping? Of course, such questions were pointless.

"Okay, let's go," I said, and we left the room together. We walked for a bit until arriving at the Senbon Nakadachiuri bus stop, where we stood and waited for the Shijôkawara-machi bus. Within five minutes, the 46 line bus had arrived. We got on and found a lucky pair of empty seats. We sat down with me on the inside and her beside me.

"By the way, you came on your Vespa, right?"

"Yeah, my Vespa. My Vespa," she said, looking a bit nervous. It seemed my previous anger had left a strong impression on her. I wondered if I might have gone too far last time, but there are times when even I can't hold back my emotions.

In fact, it happens a lot.

"So you'll have to come back to get it..."

"It's okay. As long as I take the bus, the price is the same! It's a flat fare within city limits!"

"Yeah, I guess that's true."

"So you're not planning to buy a car or scooter or anything?"

"Nah. Things aren't particularly inconvenient without one."

"Hmm..." She nodded ambiguously. "Tomo-chan was the same way. She had a license, but she didn't have any wheels. She said she just wanted to use it as a proof of identification."

"Yeah, that's basically what I'm doing."

"I see. Maybe everyone's like that. But I want to start driving once I get my license."

Come to think of it, I did seem to remember her saying something about going to driving school and getting her dad to buy her a car once she had a license.

"I drive on occasion too," I said. "Sometimes I borrow Miiko-san's car."

"Mm-hm."

The instant I brought up Miiko-san, Mikoko-chan's expression grew terribly bored. By this point, even I had come to learn that Mikoko-chan wasn't someone with whom you could have a good conversation about Miiko-san.

"Wow, so Tomo-chan had a license too."

"Yup. For what it's worth."

"I see. Hey, by the way, did you go to school yesterday and the day before?"

"Yup. Didn't see you there, for some reason."

That was because I didn't go to school yesterday and the day before. With those documents from Kunagisa in hand, I had a lot of things to think about. It wasn't that my role as a student was my lowest priority or anything, but it wasn't my top one either.

"I met up with Akiharu-kun and Muimi-chan, though. I talked to them about the idea of having an event in Tomo-chan's honor. You've got to come out when we do it."

For a moment, for just a single instant, I hesitated. "Yeah, for sure. Be sure to invite me," I replied. I couldn't tell if I was genuinely agreeing, or if I was just saying that because I was on the spot. Knowing my personality, it was more likely the latter, but in this particular case, just maybe it was the former.

We arrived in Shijôkawara-machi and got off the bus.

"Ooookay! Today, we get crazy!" she declared, stretching out both her arms. And then she flashed me the most beautiful, awe-inspiring, liberated smile I had ever seen in my life.

"Say good-bye to the dark stuff. Today we're having fun! Right, Ikkun?!"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Yeah! Mikoko-chan, full speed ahead!"

For the next six hours, Mikoko-chan did just as she'd declared, running around Shinkyôgoku from one end to the other, almost as if she really had forgotten about Tomo-chan.

Skipping and hopping around.

Frolicking about.

Vanquishing evil.

Going wild.

Joking around.

Almost crazily.

Almost like she was broken.

Almost like shad had somehow faded.

Like she had melted away.

Dancing madly.

Flying about.

Spiraling.

Like she was scrambling for something.

Like something was holding her back.

Like she was on a self-abusive binge, and yet still somehow mistakable for a pixie.

Like an innocent child, utterly free of sin.

A wholly pure existence.

Freely expressing her emotions—laughing, losing her temper, and at times even lamenting with watery eyes, only to return once again to that joyful smile.

Even I, even I, just some guy who happened to be there.

Me, Mr. Damaged Goods.

Or perhaps she had already made up her mind to confront her destiny. For me, the one who couldn't save her—no, who didn't save her—this was nothing more than an excuse, but I still couldn't help wondering.

Was she already aware of her fate?

"Wow, time just flies by, doesn't it? I can't believe it."

"Well, it's like Einstein said. There's a world of different between a minute spent with a pretty girl and a minute spent with your hand on a stove," I said as if Einstein were an old friend of mine.

"Huh?!" Mikoko-chan said with a look of pure triumph. "Could it be? Are you saying you think that I'm pretty?"

"Well, I don't suppose I'd deny it," I said, simply for the sake of the conversation. If there was one thing today had taught me, it was that giving her too direct of response would result in me getting dragged into something unnecessary.

I currently had three paper shopping bags in my right hand, two in my left, and two plastic bags on my back. They were mostly filled with clothes, so none of it was all that heavy, but it sure was a shock to see Mikoko-chan throw her ten-thousand-yen bills away one after another. Kunagisa was a big shopper too, but in her case, it was all online from home, so the reality of seeing someone splurging this heavily right before my eyes was a fairly fresh experience for me.

"Well, then... Should we eat something and then go back?"

"Yeah, yeah! Wowww!"

"What?"

"I'm so happy you asked me!" she said with a big grin.

She was really hyper today. Why was she so damn happy?

From there, we went into a place in Kiya-machi that was sort of a cross between a Japanese-style pub and a coffee shop. The interior was decorated to look like a prison, with the staff dressed in prisoner or policewoman costumes, but despite the place's peculiarities, the food and the prices were both decent. I had come here once before with Miiko-san once, during which we deemed it one of the top three restaurants in town, but that was probably the kind of thing I shouldn't bother telling Mikoko-chan. Aikawa-san would only take me to Japanese bars that only served Japanese liquor, Kunagisa only ate junk food, and pretty much everyone else I knew was finicky. If I really thought about it, having someone I could go to places like this with was something to be cherished.

A (fake) policewoman showed us to our cell, where we sat down.

"Would you care for something to drink?" she said. Mikoko-chan ordered a cocktail, and I a glass of oolong tea.

"You really don't drink, huh?"

"It's a kind of policy. Like how Muimi-chan doesn't smoke in front of nonsmokers."

"Haha, that's right! You know, it was actually Tomo-chan who asked her to stop. Tomo-chan rarely demanded anything from her friends, so even Muimi-chan listened to her just like that."

"Come to think of it, she doesn't seem the type to care much about whether or not she's disturbing others, normally."

"Yeah, but you know, she said she's quitting."

"Huh."

"It'll be good for her health!" she said, sweeping away the darkness about to form. At the same time, the drinks finally arrived. The waitress placed the cocktail in front of me and the oolong tea in front of Mikoko-chan. We ignored this for the time being and placed our order.

"So you've been friends with Muimi-chan since elementary school, huh?" I said.

"Yup. And even then she was a smoker."

"And yet she's pretty tall."

"Yup. But I'll bet she would've been even taller if she hadn't smoked." Such a thing was virtually unimaginable. "You know, she used to be a bully. She reformed some time during high school."

"That's pretty late."

"She met Tomo-chan, and, well, some things happened. You know, yadda yadda yadda."

Some things.

Yeah, I'll bet some things happened. They had certainly spent enough time together.

"What about you?" I said.

"Hm?"

"You make it sound like Tomo-chan really had a big influence on Muimi-chan, but what about you? And Akiharu-kun?"

She fell silent for a moment, then let out a deep sigh. "You know, I always thought human relationships were all about the long term," she said. "You spend a long time getting to know a person, and then one day you start to click. That's what I thought. But I was wrong. I was wrong, Ikkun. You don't need to know somebody for a long time or to 'click' in order to be drawn to a person."

"Why do you think Tomo-chan was killed?"

"H... How would I know something like that?" She hung her head down. "There was no reason Tomo-chan had to die. There wasn't a single possible reason for killing her."

"I think the reason people kill one another is actually quite simple," I said, ignoring her. "Interference. If some factor is interfering with your life, the logical next step is to try and weed it out. It's just like kicking stones off a railway track."

"But Tomo-chan—"

"Yup, Tomo-chan made it a point never to overstep people's boundaries or be invasive. In other words, there was no reason for her to have been considered an interference to any-body. She was too far out of range, to begin with."

"Uh-huh."

"To put it another way, she wasn't even in a position to become the object of somebody's ill will or enmity or malice. Thus, there was no reason for somebody to kill her. She wasn't disturbing anybody."

You're only living,

and that's causing

disturbance to others.

"But it's not that simple. I mean, Tomo-chan wasn't some hermit living in the forests of Mount Fuji. She was a normal university student, living a normal university student's life. As such, she had to form personal relationships, whether she liked it or not. Now let me pose you a question, Mikoko-chan, and please answer with your own opinion. What does it mean to form a personal relationship?"

"Umm..." she said, seeming a bit perplexed. "Well, I can't say for sure, but it's like getting close to somebody, I think."

"Yes, that's right. That's absolutely right, Mikoko-chan. Now if you were to go and rephrase that, it essentially means 'choosing somebody.' But let's think about that for a minute. To choose someone means to not choose somebody else. The act of 'choosing' and the act of 'not choosing' are just opposite sides of the same coin. I'm not talking about things like how you can only have one best friend or one lover. Such dilemmas are irrelevant here. What I'm talking about is that it's logically impossible for a human being to be liked by everyone, to be able to get close to anybody he or she hasn't chosen."

"Hmm . . . It may be hard—to be liked by everyone, I mean—but I don't think it's impossible. Maybe not everyone in the world, but I think it's at least possible with the people directly surrounding you."

"I don't think it is. That's what I believe. People aren't all as kind as you think. There are monsters out there who only view other people as subjects to be dissected. There are blue things that can only process the world in terms of zeros and ones. There are Mankind's Greatest ladies who are cynical about everything in the whole world, not to mention other people. There are fortune-tellers who have seen all hope and all despair in the entire world and still go on sneering away. Artists who view their very existence—not to mention the existence of others—as nothing more than elements in her style. There are even people who can only accept human beings as either good or evil."

"..."

"Now don't you think Tomo-chan's awareness of this was the reason she chose to avoid forming deep relationships with people? She was trying to make as few enemies as possible."

"Tomo-chan wasn��t... That kind of girl," Mikoko-chan said, fading in and out, but I mostly didn't hear her. It seemed she knew herself that such a claim had no basis. "But even if that was true, the fact remains that she was killed."

"You're right. Tomo-chan made sure never to fall in too deep with anybody, and yet at the same time, she showed superb skill in not letting it show."

It was the very thing I was incapable of.

No matter how hard I tried.

"But despite all that, she was murdered anyway. Tomo-chan was murdered. Now at this point, Mikoko-chan, let's take a look at this serial killer who's become such a sensation as of late. This guy is an indiscriminate murderer. Just falling into his field of vision or, conversely, not falling into his field of vision, just happening to bump him on the shoulder, or even not bumping him on the shoulder is enough of a reason for him to kill you. He kills mechanically. Automatically. For a killer like that, even Tomo-chan is a possible target. Even I am."

"So then Tomo-chan was killed by the slasher?"

"Apparently not. According to Sasaki-san—that detective, I mean. Apparently, that's the one thing that they know for sure. Now then, if I might change the subject a little bit, let me ask you this: Haven't you ever thought there were just too many people in the world?"

Taken aback by the suddenness of my question, she looked away. Nevertheless, I silently waited for her answer.

"But that doesn't mean you can just kill people," she said. "Ikkun, could you ever forgive someone for murder?"

"No," I answered without hesitation. "It's not a matter of forgiving or not forgiving. There's a far more fundamental issue. That is, the fact that murder is the absolute worst thing. That I can confirm. The desire to take a life is the most despicable human emotion. To hope and pray and wish for another person's death is a hopelessly evil act. It is a sin beyond redemption. It's an atrocity beyond apology, and I'll be damned if it has anything to do with forgiveness."

My voice was so rigid and merciless, I didn't even sound like me.

Complete nonsense.

Who was really the hopeless one here?

"Anybody who's taken a life belongs in Hell, without exception."

"B... But..." She gulped in terror at my bold declaration but managed to muster up an objection nevertheless. "Like, what if the person was in danger? Like what if you were walking around Kamogawa Park at night, and then this Kyoto prowler guy came at you with a knife? Would you just sit there and let him kill you?"

"No, I suppose I would resist."

"Right?"

"You're right. And I might even use too much force and accidentally kill him. The same thing goes for me as goes for everyone else. But I would also realize at that moment when I'm taking somebody else's in order to preserve my own—I would realize my own sinfulness. I would acknowledge that I'm guilty of sin so deep that it won't even be forgiven when I'm dead."

"But you were going to be killed! It's only natural to defend yourself in a situation like that, right?"

"If you start thinking like that, you've already committed the sin. Let's make one thing clear right now," I said sternly. "I am capable of murder."

"..."

"Whether it be for my own sake or for someone else's, I could slaughter another human being. I could eradicate an-other life, whether it be a friend or a family member. Why do you think that is?"

"Why? I don't know," she said anxiously. "I don't think that's true. You're a kind guy. I don't think you could do those things."

"I can. Without a doubt. The reason is that I can't comprehend other people's pain."

"..."

"For example, I have a certain female friend who lacks most of the basic human emotions. She's always super-happy, having fun no matter what she's doing, but that's only because she doesn't know any other emotion. As a result, she can barely comprehend when other people get sad or angry."

It was the only way she could process the world. Never able to distinguish between paradise and paradise lost.

"I'm the same way. No, I'm much worse. I can't understand the pain of others even a little bit. Why? Because I myself can't properly interpret my own feelings of 'pain' or 'suffering.' The thought of dying doesn't even bother me. It's not that I want to die, but my will to resist it is abnormally low. And thus this leads to what I was saying.

"There are a variety of 'stoppers' that prevent people from killing one another. One of the most vital ones is having thoughts like, 'Gee, this probably hurts,' or 'Man, I feel sorry for this guy.' Isn't that right? It is. For example, I'm sure you've gotten the urge to hurt somebody before, right? But you probably didn't actually beat the crap out of them or anything, did you?"

"Mm. I've never hit someone before."

"But I'll bet you've wanted to before, right?"

She didn't answer. This was the clearest confirmation she could've given. But this was no crime. Nobody can go through life without ever harboring ill will toward someone, even if you're up in Heaven.

"I guess basically I'm talking about an ability to feel empathy. You understand the other person's emotions, you feel mercy for them, and you conform to them. Of course, this isn't always a good thing. Jealousy and envy both have empathy at their root. An understanding of another person's emotions. It's both a merit and a demerit."

And if like the woman on that island, you knew everyone's emotions, all you could do was break down.

"But let's not wax philosophical about loss and gain, here," I said. "The point here is that I don't have these 'stoppers.' I can't make head or tail of people's emotions. As a result, I have to suppress myself. Doing so proves to be incredibly agonizing. It's not even funny. But somehow I've managed to keep the demons down."

I had some nerve, living life while harboring such a monster within myself.

"Ikkun..."

"I could reach my limit any day now. And that is why I can't forgive a murderer. How could I? The very existence of a murderer is detestable. Deplorable. I hate all murderers from the bottom of my heart. I hate them heartily. I think I'd like to crush them all."

"..."

"Just kidding, I don't think that at all," I said.

Our food arrived. Mikoko-chan ordered more alcohol, and I a glass of water. We sat for a while eating our food in silence.

"Say, Ikkun..."

"Yeah?"

"Why are you telling me all this stuff?" she said, suspiciously. It had been such a fun day.

Silently, I shook my head. It was no doubt a terribly cold gesture. "I just figured you might want to hear it. Was I wrong? No, right? And, well, I wanted you to know the extent to which I was damaged goods."

"Damaged goods? How can you say such a terrible thing? And about yourself!"

"It's because it's about myself that I can say it. If I'm not damaged goods, then I'm at least a human failure. Don't you think? Actually, people tell me that a lot. Anyone who's grown even slightly close to me has said so. 'You're out of your mind,' they say. 'Abnormal.' 'A heretic.' 'Grotesque.' 'Shoddy.' And those are all correct."

"Ikkun..." Mikoko-chan said nervously. "You sound like you're headed for suicide."

"I won't commit suicide. I promised."

"You... Promised?"

"Yeah. To the first person, I killed."

A pause.

I popped a cube of steak in my mouth. "Just kidding," I said. "Unfortunately, my life isn't that exciting. And I'm not romantic enough to make such an incredible promise. I'm just an ordinary guy who's missing some vital component. The actual reason I won't commit suicide is that, well, it just looks bad. You know, like I'm running from my own flaws. Of course, I am running from my flaws, but I don't want to look like I am."

"Ikkun, I know you're not like other people, but... If you killed yourself, I would cry. I know I would. Forget about what you're missing. You're living a normal life, aren't you?"

"Broken things can be fixed. Things that are simply inadequate can't."

Mikoko-chan let out a deep sigh. "It's like I'm talking to Tomo-chan."

"Hmm? Did she talk about this kind of thing a lot?"

"Well, not really. I mean, she didn't open up to people that much. But if we ever had a 'real' conversation, I'm sure it would've been something like this."

"In that case..."

In that case, it was truly regrettable. I felt all the more like I should have had a serious talk with Emoto Tomoe.

If I had... If I had?

What if I had?

Who would have been saved? Did I actually think she might have been saved? As if.

Rather, wasn't it because we had talked that she had...

"You know, about Tomo-chan," I said without looking up at Mikoko-chan. "I don't think she would resent the person who killed her. I'm sure she doesn't, not even a little bit."

"...Why do you think that?"

"Eh, just a hunch. No other reason. But that's what I think. I'm sure she's not the type to resent others."

I even had the gall to use the present tense instead of the past.

Present tense.

"Of course, they say she was strangled from behind, so she probably didn't even see the killer's face. I don't suppose she could have resented the killer even if she wanted to, I said.

"The killer's... Face..." Mikoko-chan repeated. "The person who killed her..."

"But Tomo-chan probably wouldn't have had any interest in something like that anyway. I mean, no matter who kills you, the outcome is the same. In the end, being killed is nothing more than just that. The fact that you die doesn't change, no matter whose fault it is. Plus, Tomo-chan was like me—she had little resistance to the idea of death in the first place. I can say this with a fair degree of certainty. She didn't seem to like herself very much. She told me so that day. She wants to be reborn as you."

Hearing that, Mikoko-chan looked like she was about to cry. She managed to hold back the tears, but she continued speaking Tomo-chan's name softly to herself for some time.

"Tomo-chan... Tomo-chan... Tomo-chan."

I watched this, unmoved. Honestly, truly, completely without emotion.

"Mikoko-chan, who do you think did it?"

"You know, you sure do seem hung up on that," she said with just a hint of suspicion. "Have you been investigating or something?"

"Yes," I answered honestly. "Well, not so much investigating as wanting to know. I want to meet whoever did it. I want to ask some questions. Or rather, I want to interrogate this person. You know, like, 'Can you justify your own existence?' "

"Ikkun," Mikoko-chan said, "You're really scary, aren't you?"

"Am I? I personally don't think so, but maybe I am."

"You apply your own rules to other people. I don't know how to describe it. It's like while you view yourself as one part of the world, you view all people as like... The world's gears. No, not gears. If a gear goes missing, the whole machine breaks down, but you don't care if a person or two disappears."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"I really don't think you're the kind of person who could just kill someone, Ikkun. But I'll bet you also don't hesitate to tell someone to die."

"..."

"Am I right? I mean, asking the person who killed Tomo-chan a question like that is the same as saying, 'You don't deserve to live.' It's cruel. It's so cruel. Ikkun, do you realize that?"

"Yes," I shot back. "I'm fully aware of that. I'm as aware of my own sins and of my own nonsense-sputtering nature as I am of the fact that I'm the one who belongs in the depths of Hell. Someone once told me that most murders are the result of a person 'going too far' or 'using too much force,' but in my case, I'm fully capable of fully premeditated murder. I'm one of the rare, deplorable breeds of people who can take a life without any need for self-approval or self-deception or self-denial or self-satisfaction."

"You sure are self-hating, though."

"I'm a masochist," I said casually. "And an extremely nasty one, at that. But that's my way, my style, my assertion. And I have no intention of giving that up."

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

She looked a bit sad.

It was as if she were looking at somebody in the distance.

Somebody who was already gone.

An ephemeral, painful gaze.

Her expression.

Her aura.

Surely it was because she never hid her emotions, nor even tried to do so.

I could understand.

I could comprehend.

It almost felt like I had gone and understood somebody's feelings.

"But that's..." she said.

This was, among other things:

A feeling of affection.

A lovely presence.

An utterance of sentiment.

A truly aloof air.

A truly casual aura.

A singular impossibility.

An inability to remain apathetic.

A dazzling nightmare.

A feeling like reality itself would distort and collapse.

I desired a partner. I faced my partner.

The pleasure of being beaten down.

The pleasure of being run through.

The ecstasy of being dismembered.

Cut into little bits and pieces.

A vital component-stealing,

Heart-clutching,

Mind-penetrating

Smile.

"That's the Ikkun I love," she said.