September 13, 2014 – Day 7
A week has passed since my host and her girlfriend entered this cave. The woman who goes by the name of Kirito places me in a constant state of unease, and these days I can feel her feminine gaze scorch my very soul. Why now, though? When she’s supposed to be figuring our her next move against Death Gun, she lays her eyes on me before quickly turning away to speak about something else to my host. I’m certain she does not realize my presence in the story, and I am thankful that it only lasted for perhaps a second or two. Or five. Perhaps ten, give or take.
However, such phases have only been growing worse and more numerous as time goes by. Might this spell the end for me? Will I be found out soon enough? Still, I remain vigilant. No one must know that I, Sinon’s butt, am in fact alive.
But I do not understand. What is it about this situation makes my presence so enticing to look at? Certainly there were more interesting things to be observe in this cave, like the Blue Lizard of Symbolism or the Nastyass Dank Pond of Nastiness, but she instead fixates on me. And it’s not just her, either. I can feel another, more ethereal presence lurking. Staring. Ogling. It’s a vague, dark feeling and it refuses to go away. I look to my left and my right, but its form eludes me no matter where I look. Whatever it may be, I feel as if thousands of eyes, perhaps millions, are on me. And sometimes, I wonder.
Do they realize my true nature? That I am, in fact, a sentient butt? It must be true. There is virtually no way to interpret it otherwise. No one in their right would watch me with such intensity unless they suspected something out of the ordinary. I mean, I’m just a butt, right? Butts are ordinary enough. Butts usually don’t go hopping away once you stop looking at them. I’ll still be around even if they don’t look. So why won’t this feeling go away?
And what else could you possibly suspect of a butt like me other than the fact that I am, in fact, alive? What could possible justify me getting this kind of attention in a serious situation? I’m sure no one realizes anything about my possible sentience, and hell I do all the things expected of a girl’s butt: sit there and look functional. Of course I don’t actually do anything for the host because girls obviously don’t poop, but I am baffled by just how much attention I sense just by being in this cave. It’s almost worrisome.
What’s so special about me being a butt? What could be so special about butts in general? I see with my posterior vision the makings of beautiful rock formations that are just fascinating to behold. Look at those curves, the way that the crevice in between eats into the brown earth. I am, of course, talking about the cave. Not me, a sentient butt of absolutely no importance to this story. Yet, as time has told so far, I am unsuccessful in averting the gaze of my imaginary and probably male crowd. And as such, my methods of coping grow thinner by the hour. I am running out of options. I’m sick of being in this cave.
I can’t bear it much longer. I don’t want this kind of attention. I don’t want to be here. My host knows no end to her despair and her chuunibyou behavior, and the more I am forced so sit through and hear her drivel the more I desire to contract dysentery and get myself over with. Her girlfriend doesn’t make things easier, either, because I believe she just made a rather outrageous deduction based purely on looking at two lizard tails. Now I may just be a butt and therefore have shit opinions, but I feel that I must scream because of what I was just forced to listen to. And still, I feel their gazes despite such an atrocious breach of immersion.
I swear, this cave is driving me crazy. I’m sure no one suspects anything about me. But I can’t shake off this gaze, these eyes. I am tempted in my desperation to ask of it: why? Why are they doing this to me when they don’t know? What could be so special about a girl’s butt that they focus their attention on me for an entire episode’s worth of time? If they don’t know that I am, in fact, alive, why won’t they stop looking? For what purpose would they do this if not on the suspicion of me being, in fact, alive? Please, I beg of thee, avert thine eyes. There is nothing important to see here.
My host is about to stand up after what seemed like an eternity… do they not suspect anything? Am I safe? Oh, thank God. That means the plot is finally moving again and that means less time spent looking at me. I am safe. Still, I cannot let my guard down. The gaze is ever-present and I cannot afford to let myself go soft. It’ll certainly come back to check up on me, to make sure that I look inanimate like it should be. But the joke’s on them. I, as Sinon’s butt, shall remain eternal. Now, no one will know that I am, in fact, alive.
I have conquered the male gaze.
I am invincible.