---

---

"Nee-Tohru."

Not *netoru*, meaning "steal your lover," nor *netoru*, meaning "sleeping," but more like a "Heeey, Moon" kind of call. Just wanted to clarify.

"Do you think... I can become beautiful?"

I didn't brush her off by telling her to ask a fortune teller or a con artist.

"Depends on where you set the bar. How beautiful are we aiming for?"

"Hmm, let's see... Like, the kind of beauty that lets you buy everything in a store for half price!"

"You should work on your silver tongue rather than your face."

"Ehh, okay then... how 'bout the kind of beautiful that gets you tons of stalkers, young 'n' old, men 'n' women, indiscriminately?"

"Go report that to the police! Hurry!"

"Hmm, you totally shot me down."

Itsuki, who wields such peculiar Japanese, really suits that goofy, vacant expression. Her looks fall more into the 'pretty' category than 'beautiful' – the opposite of her sister.

"So, why did you ask that anyway?"

"Mhmm, actually, I wanted to ask a leading question to try and get you to tell me I'm beautiful, Tohru."

*Though I've never paid your sister such a compliment either.*

"Since you won't say it, that means you like older people, Tohru! Alright, I'm gonna get older fast—! And then I'll overtake her—! I'm gonna become Nee-chan's nee-chan!"

Somehow, the diary in my head reported that a similar desire had been expressed somewhere, sometime before.

"...You look like you're having fun."

"Yep. Tohru's interesting."

She said, flashing a set of well-aligned teeth, all her baby teeth now replaced.

Being with Itsuki is calming. Mayu is soothing. Natsuki-san is draining.

"Nee-chan said she likes seeing you too, Tohru."

"...Is that so."

Nagase... is exhausting. At least, right now.

"Anyway, there's something I wanted to ask."

"Please wait a little longer for the tuition payment."

"Don't get behind on your payments."

...Well, putting that aside. Before I get too sidetracked, let's get to the main course.

"So, the person who disappeared a few days ago... she was from this room, right?"

Itsuki's expression clouded over slightly at my question.

"Yeah. A fresh-faced middle schooler."

*According to Mayu, her expiration date has probably passed by now... what an inappropriate joke.*
"Hmm. Pretty girl?"

"Ahh, throwing around 'beautiful' so easily—. Tohru really *does* like older women—."

Itsuki made the cheerfully demented observation. As a citizen, I worried for the future of our town.
Then Itsuki glanced sideways at the neighboring bed, neatly made and showing no signs of recent use.
Crutches stood beside the bed. *So she was a fellow cripple, huh.* That said, I wasn't in such a rush to die that I wanted to share her current world.

"She was hospitalized right there, with me."

Itsuki murmured damply. *Putting 'hospitalized' in the past tense... it's half good, half bad, isn't it,* I thought abruptly.

"Do you know around when she disappeared?"

"She was here until lights-out, the night six days ago. Buuut, when I woke up in the morning, she wasn't there."

Itsuki answered smoothly, as if practiced (though her tone was still drawn-out). The police must have already questioned her.

"Tohru, are you playing detective?"

"Well, something like that, I guess. Playing detective, but seriously."

"Hohh. Playing 'pretend' seriously... Tohru, you're such a grown-up—."

Itsuki put on a smug look. Her mouth formed a cat-like smile, feigning composure, but her eyes were wandering like a lost child's. Maybe, just as Nagase had said, she was terrified of the incident and didn't want to touch upon it.

"Well then, Tohru-kun, be careful and try your best, but don't overdo it."

She sounded like she was joking, but her true feelings were hard to grasp.

"I'd certainly *like* to try my best, though."

*As for the culprit, I haven't got a clue.*
I'd visited hoping to find something useful, but it seemed there wasn't any particular information to be had.
*What to do now...*

"So, that pretty middle school girl next door... Had anyone confessed to her, only for her to reject them harshly? Did she compete in club tournaments or something, attracting obsessive fans and getting stalked? Or was she, quite simply, the absolute worst kind of person, like a magnet for grudges and bitterness?"

"...Whirr... whirr..."

Perhaps the long sentence was too much at once; Itsuki seemed to be rewinding the CD of her memory and replaying it in her brain. Her eyeballs darted around busily, as if cheering the process on, occasionally pausing. Eventually, the whirring stopped.

"We weren't really close... hmm, no, not 'not close'... I didn't know her... uhh... I guess?"

*In other words, she doesn't know.*

As Itsuki struggled confusedly to spin her words together, I pressed a finger onto her hair whorl, using it as a makeshift pause button. "Ugh," she groaned, her body going rigid, playing along just as I'd expected.

"How long is your arm supposed to take to heal?"

"About two weeks. If I *really* put my spirit into it— maybe around fourteen days!"

*Hmm, she knows her limits.* Things like 'spirit' seemed entirely disconnected from reality for this kid.

"And if I yell 'Kyaaaah!' even harder, then fourteen days instantly becomes, uh, fourteen times twenty-four... three hundred and thirty-six hours! Then, if I show even *more* guts, three hundred thirty-six times sixty... becomes a huuuuuge number—! Annnd—"
"Stop."
"Augh!"

Since she didn't seem capable of bringing things under control herself, I initiated a force quit. I ground my fingertip into her hair whorl, teasing her. Itsuki tried shaking her head to escape, but she wasn't really trying, so it had no effect.
Now that Itsuki seemed to have calmed down, I switched from just my fingertip to resting my whole palm on her head, ruffling her hair softly as if tickling her. "I'll go bald!" she protested, though her voice sounded happy, letting me do as I pleased.

"Itsuki."
My voice came out surprisingly serious.

"I-Is this a confession?"

*I'd invited misunderstanding in an unfortunate direction. Is there really anyone who'd be purely overjoyed to be told "I love you" while having their head patted? Ah, wait. Mayu.*
Putting that aside, I asked Itsuki a simple question.

"Are you scared?"

A subtle strain appeared in the gentle roundness of Itsuki's cheeks, a shadow emerging as if trying to erode the surface.

"I'm scared."
Itsuki admitted honestly.

"'Cause... someone disappearing is, like, really, *really*, umm, bad, and, uh, maybe it could happen to me too—, and—, so...! ..."

She gestured wildly, spouting incoherent sentences.
*Well, I get what she's trying to say.*

"Soooo, that's why Detective Tohru needs to catch the culprit lickety-split, and then hip-hip-hooray!"

"Mm, yeah. Consider it done."

I gave the crown of Itsuki's head one last pat, accepting the request that would be difficult to fulfill.

"Well then, if Nee-chan comes to visit, tell her I said hi, but keep it low-key."

"Low-salt?"

*Since when did your sister get high blood pressure?*

I grabbed my now quite familiar crutches and lifted my butt off the chair. I tried adding a bit of pointless fun, attempting to keep the rhythm of my crutches hitting the floor perfectly constant. If I didn't, faced with the sheer distance back to my own room, I might just propose moving in here instead.

"Nee-Tohru."
That's *nee*, etcetera, etcetera. I turned back, trying my best not to shift my body's orientation.

"Tohru, right now, you're going out with someone besides Nee-chan, right—?"

"Yeah, well, it gives that impression, I suppose."

"Well then—, if that person dumps you, I'll go out with you—! Call it a reservation, okay?"

*...What a precocious ten-year-old.* Maybe I'm surprisingly popular with the younger crowd (*way* too young, though). And elderly folks strike up conversations with me all the time, too... *Seems the crucial demographic in the middle is missing.*

"Ooh, sounds good."

*If I get dumped, huh... Assuming Mayu hasn't killed me by then, sure.*
That aside, I honestly found it rather heartwarming.
Enough to make me think I wouldn't mind coming again.

---

On the way back to my hospital room – a place I've stayed so long I've started calling it "my room" – I bumped into Watarai-san.
Judging from the fact that we met near the central wing, I guessed he probably had some business over in the West Ward.
Watarai-san, though looking somewhat exhausted, noticed me and broke into a wide grin, closing the distance with a slightly shuffling gait.
He'd apparently been feeling unwell since this morning, but he seemed to have recovered enough to walk around on his own two feet.

"Oho, what're you up to?" he asked about my comings and goings, his voice less wrinkled than his face.

"I went to visit someone."
"An injured man paying a visit?"
"And got visited in return, while I was at it."

"Is that so, is that so," Watarai-san nodded vaguely. Perhaps because I'd only responded with jokes during his hospital stay, he'd recently become quite adept at letting things slide.

"Are you heading somewhere too, Watarai-san?" I asked, more out of polite obligation than actual curiosity.
Watarai-san paused dramatically—or rather, seemed to slowly, wearily pull back his chin.

"Goin' to see the wife."
"Ah, right, you're both hospitalized as a couple, aren't you."

"We get along so well, see... our bodies decided to fall apart together. Reckon I'll be dyin' soon, so if she goes with me, maybe it won't be so lonely, eh?"

Watarai-san sounded like he was joking, but I found it difficult to respond, which was awkward.

"Watarai-san, what exactly is your ailment?"

*When he was first admitted, he'd tried—and failed—to break a rib, but it seemed things might have worsened from an internal organ standpoint as well.*

"Just a little somethin'. When you get to be an old geezer, that 'little somethin'' can be fatal, yeh know."

The old man, his slight dialect showing, evaded giving specifics. I've never really felt the need to know the details of other people's health issues—at least not men's—so I didn't press the matter.
Was it just the effect of his current condition? Watarai-san looked distinctly older than he had just a week ago. As if he'd fast-forwarded through time, aging from sixty to sixty-five in a flash.

"Well, while yer young, maybe it's better teh take care o' yer heart more than yer body, eh?"
"...Hah." *Too late for that,* I thought.
I responded to the elder's advice with noncommittal vagueness.

"Oh, right. There's a guest for yeh in yer room."
"...? Who might that be?"

"That high school girl who came the other day."
*Nagase, huh.* ... ... *Yeah, probably Nagase.*

"Said she'd wait 'til yeh got back."
"Got it. Thanks for relaying the message-ssu."

"Uh huh, uh huh," Watarai-san nodded roughly again before walking off. His retreating figure exuded such frailty, I felt the urge to butt in and tell him he really should be using crutches.

---

".........Nagase, huh."

I leaned back against the corridor wall. The white plaster was excessively cold, incredibly unpleasant. Still, when I needed to think things over, I preferred to keep my body stable, so it couldn't be helped.
In the corridor, devoid of passersby, only the faint sounds of televisions leaking from the rooms echoed weakly.

Time for a multiple-choice question.
Top priority: Reaching my own bed safely.
Setting aside the sleep-talk about humans having infinite choices and possibilities, I need to pick an answer.
One: Pretend I didn't hear anything and head straight to Mayu's room, leaving Nagase hanging.
Two: Go see Nagase first, promptly ask her to leave, and *then* go to Mayu.
Three: And then I ran away.

"...Tough choice."

Choosing Three, if permissible, certainly holds some appeal. Of course, I'm not really in a position to ask anyone for permission, nor is anyone likely to grant me permission for my actions. Mayu wouldn't forgive me, sure, but her goal is to *prevent* me from acting; it's not an environment where I need anyone else's *consent* to act. To put it flatteringly, I'm independent. To put it plainly, I'm selfish.
Not that I actually have any means of escape, though. Therefore, reluctantly, Option Three is dismissed.
Or rather, realistically speaking, I have no choice but to meet Nagase.

"What a pain..."

Since I come equipped with the danger known as Mayu, I'd really rather Nagase didn't visit much. It's not that I dislike Nagase.
I've lost those feelings now, but if we were to get closer again, there's a chance I might start wanting her miso soup.
But that's not what I want.
All I want is for Nagase to keep her distance, just enough so she won't get hurt.
Is the only option left to beg her, with the kind of conviction required for a *dogeza* (though that's impossible with my current leg), "Please, don't come here anymore"?

"Argh, just thinking about it is exhausting. What is this, lovesickness?"

It's definitely different from the standard version, but perhaps similar. In fact, if you look at it purely from the perspective of 'sickness,' my situation might even feel like the more correct usage of the term.
To think I'd end up using a bittersweet, retrospective phrase like "youthful indiscretion" before even reaching adulthood...

Well, thinking about it further won't improve the situation. Time to go.
Down the stairs, to meet Nagase.

Resenting my right leg's extended vacation, I resumed my journey down the corridor.

...... There is one thing. Determined by my own will.
Uninfluenced by anything else, just one thing, decided clearly, distinctly.
It remains unshaken by any sound, by anything reflected in my eyes, by any human relationship.

Even if I were not 'Mii-kun'... it's the fact that I have no intention of becoming the 'Tohru' *she* seeks.

"...Seriously, who the hell am I?"

There's nothing left to do but laugh. Laughing is the only way to get through it.

---

Nagase Tooru was reading manga.
Apparently, she'd helped herself to it from someone's shelf.
She was leaning way back in the chair, legs stretched out and propped up on the bed, leisurely scanning the pages.
Then, perhaps alerted by the sound of my footsteps—the distinct tap of my crutches on the floor—her focused face lifted. She was in her school uniform again today.

"Just came from seeing Maa-chan, ssu?"
"Nah, your sister's place."

"Ah," Nagase's expression softened into a smile. She closed her book as well.
"So you went to see her, ssu?"

"Yep. And she promised she'd be my girlfriend if I end up single."

"Haha, she's pretty serious about that, y'know, ssu. That girl."
Nagase lowered her feet to the floor and stood up, shuffling in her slippers.
She came right up close, near my chest, looking up at me with a soft, relaxed expression.

"Tohru, you're quite the popular one, ssu?"

"...Strictly speaking, I feel like that's not quite right. What was it you liked about me, Nagase?"

When I casually posed the question, Nagase let out an indistinct "Mah!" before placing a hand on her cheek.
I used that moment to take a step back, establishing an appropriate distance.

"Asking such shameless things with a perfectly straight face!"
Without commenting on my retreat, Nagase lightly admonished me.

"...? Didn't you go out with me because there was *something* you liked?"

Nagase let out a mock shriek—"Gyaaaah!"—and writhed. Losing her center of gravity, she swayed left and right, looking as if she might collapse at the knees any second.
*What's with her? Kinda funny.* My orbit tends to attract people whose personalities are slightly... warped into the shape of 'individuality' (a tendency particularly noticeable in women), but opponents with whom I can actually control the conversation are rare, so this feels comfortable. A world away from that police lady.

"Corporal punishment! Corporal punishment!" Nagase covered her mouth and nose with her left hand while intermittently swatting my upper arm with her right. There was no real power behind it, so it didn't hurt much.

"Ah, so you're embarrassed?"
"Don't rub it in!"
The slaps picked up tempo, from a four-beat to a two-beat rhythm. It didn't hurt, but the friction of my clothes started to make my arm itchy.
Nagase staggered back towards the chair with unsteady, restless steps, practically collapsing into it.
I leaned back onto the bed, then pushed myself halfway up, supporting myself on my arms. Nagase's face was now within arm's reach. Acknowledging this, my right hand reached out, almost automatically.

When I placed my palm on Nagase's cheek, it was flushed and hot, so much so that I wondered if she had a fever.
Nagase's moist eyes darted around in confusion for a moment, but then she gave a bashful smile and placed her own hand over the back of mine.

"It's cool... feels nice."
"That's because my heart's stealing all the heat."

"Ahaha," Nagase laughed, sounding not entirely displeased.
"That part of you... um... I like it, ssu."
"Hm? What part's that?"

"It's the part... that you can't really put into words, ssu."
"...My body temperature?"

"You... It's different from just kindness... It's more like, just being with you... there's something incredibly reassuring about it...? ...Yeah, I really can't put it into words."

Even though she couldn't pin down an answer, Nagase didn't seem to harbor even a shred of dissatisfaction.
As she stroked the back of my hand affectionately, Nagase's own hand felt flushed with too much blood. It wasn't the warmth of a hearth, but held a sharp, almost scorching heat, like a forest fire.

The fog before my eyes cleared, and I snapped back to reality.
*Careless... I went and created this nice atmosphere, only for it to fester.*
Flustered, I brushed Nagase's hand aside and hastily pulled my own hand back.

"My apologies. This must be a No Touching Zone."
In fact, the glaring gaze of my male high school student roommate seemed to be telling me just that.

"Still spouting incoherent Japanese as always, ssu?"
Nagase's mood didn't seem to sour much. If anything, she looked rather pleased. She was smiling like a bully.

"What is it?"
"So you *are* still conscious of me, huh."
*Did it look like I wasn't?*
"Well, yeah..."
"Well, yeah, ssu? Mm, that's good."

Nagase looked utterly delighted. I felt the exact opposite.
Nagase straightened her mussed-up uniform collar and smoothed down her skirt. While she did, I found myself recalling her shoulders. They were hidden now (naturally), but the line from Nagase's shoulder down her upper arm was beautiful. Not because of flawless skin or texture, but because the shape, the line itself, was ideal. I'd been quite struck by it the first time I saw her.
Although, she'd pouted when I only praised that specific part. A girl's heart is a complex tapestry.

But I digress. There was something I needed to confirm with Nagase.
"By the way, why do you call Mayu 'Maa-chan'?"

"Eh? Ah, why...? I've just always called her that, ssu."
Nagase replied, stuttering slightly. I froze for a moment at her words.

"...Long ago... Ah, right. So that's how it is." *It made sense now.* Seems I'd misunderstood something.
*Mayu had a past before she met me, didn't she... I'd completely forgotten about that.*

"Friends in elementary school or something?"
"Since nursery school, ssu. Incidentally, she used to call me Nagase-san, ssu."

*...Huh? Which means... Heeeh. Hohooooh. Wow.*

"I made sure to correct her when she tried calling me Tohru-chan, ssu."

"Hmm." *...Well, it doesn't matter right now.* I'll think about that later.
Perhaps sensing my lack of interest in my reply, Nagase figuratively raised her hand to change the subject.

"I wanted to ask something too, though."
I prompted her to continue with just my eyes.

"I heard about it at school, but why are you called 'Mii-kun,' Tohru, ssu?"

"Taken out of context like that, the question makes no sense. Sounds like 'Who the heck is this Boku guy?'"

"Don't try to joke your way out of it. That's a bad habit of yours, Tohru."
She glared at me. This time, her eyes held a wrath that suggested a much more serious form of corporal punishment might be imminent.
I met her gaze head-on, not looking away.

*Well, I guess it's natural she'd want to ask.* Knowing Mayu means, by definition, knowing about Sugawara too.
But.
"To explain that, I'd have to expose just how complex and bizarre Mayu's current state of mind is to the light of day. And I have no desire to do that. Therefore, I'm rejecting any questions on that particular subject."

At my flat refusal, Nagase's anger swelled. If only that swelling were fluffy like cotton candy; instead, it was the kind of unromantic expansion akin to a gas explosion.

"Let me tell you something, Tohru. I've known Maa-chan way longer than you have. So acting like you don't need to tell an 'outsider' anything... I don't like it, and it's wrong."

"If your connection is so 'fated,' then I wish you'd just understand without demanding answers from me."

I could practically see the moment Nagase's blood boiled over. Instantly, she grabbed the nearest pillow with both hands and slammed it into me. The pillow was on the firmer side, delivering a corresponding amount of pain. A ringing started in my ears.

"...Good thing there wasn't a fruit knife lying around over there."

Perhaps deflated by my comment, the anger seemed to drain from Nagase's shoulders. She tossed the pillow aside carelessly and cast an imploring gaze my way.
I lowered my eyelids, trying to sever the connection, but before my mouth could close, I answered her.

"It means I'm deceiving her."
*Concise, and extremely accurate,* I praised myself internally.

"Meaning you're pretending to be Sugawara-kun?"
"Nope. Meaning I'm *playing the part* of Mii-kun. I won't say anything more."

*Please, just drop this topic now,* I prayed, staring at the backs of my eyelids. Perhaps my prayer was answered, as no further word came from Nagase. Just like that, I fell into several minutes of meditation.
When I eventually lifted my eyelids, Nagase was staring intently at me with a solemn expression. Also, the pillow was back in its proper place. Not, I assure you, a result of my psychokinetic abilities.

"Do you... like Maa-chan?"
Nagase tossed out a question that still seemed subtly linked to our previous conversation.

"I like her enough that we could share bites from the same apple in public."

Nagase's expression soured again. *Well, it's your own fault for asking things that are hard to answer seriously.*

"What do you like about Maa-chan?"
"Her face."
Nagase recoiled slightly.
"Just looking at her face makes me happy, feel soothed... it's all good things."
I added, just a little. Nagase let out a rather meaningful "Hmm..." in response.

"So that means... even though you're deceiving her, it's true that you actually like her, ssu. Right?"

"You're really latching onto this, aren't you? Does confirming that actually mean anything to *you*, Nagase?"

"Is it wrong for me to worry about Maa-chan, ssu?! We *used* to be close friends, you know! And if *you're* involved, Tohru, then I'm even more concerned, ssu! Isn't that obvious?!"

"Hmm." *Used to be, huh.*

"And now?"
"Eh?"
"How is it *now*? Your relationship with Mayu."

"That... is..."
My question had apparently struck a nerve. Nagase fell silent, her expression shifting to one of grief.
Watching her, I made a mental note to tell the gardener of my heart to prune away my spiteful nature. *Just kidding, though.*

"So, changing tracks completely to a topic with zero connection to anything we've discussed so far..."
I spoke to the downcast Nagase. She brushed the hair back from her forehead and asked in a subdued voice, "What is it, ssu?"
Just then, the door to the room opened, and Watarai-san lumbered back in. Moving with the slow, vacant motions of someone whose consciousness was being eroded by sleep, he crawled into his futon, let out a few groans, and then became perfectly still.
After watching this scene conclude, my gaze met Nagase's again. Time for me to throw my usual curveball.

"Nagase, are you the type of person who gets good grades in school?"

Nagase's rapidly blinking eyelids indicated her surprise level; she looked utterly bewildered.
"That *really* doesn't seem related in the slightest, ssu."

"I'm known on the streets as a man who always follows through on his word." *Though in reality, I'm harshly criticized as an eccentric whose words and actions never match.*
Nagase folded her arms, glancing sideways in thought.

"Well, ssu... I guess you could say I'm the 'aggressively average' type, ssu?"

"Putting aside that smug look like you just said something clever... you *do* take notes, right? Let me copy them."

At my request, Nagase started blinking rapidly, but for a different reason now. A surprise born of curiosity, like watching a magic trick, played across her features.
"Didn't know you were such a secret bookworm, ssu. Hitting the books even though you won't be taking finals?"

"My nickname in class is 'Pince-nez Pete'."
Since people other than my parents are looking after me, I feel guilty if I don't study seriously.
Though since I started living with Mayu, I *have* been slacking off a bit, which makes me feel guilty too.
Ideally, I'd borrow them from a classmate, but none of my classmates have bothered to come visit me. I have no choice but to rely on Nagase.

"Sure thing, ssu." Nagase reached over to where her school loafers lay on the shelf. She grabbed her bag nearby, undid the clasp, and pulled out several standard notebooks. I accepted them solemnly.
"Just don't complain if my handwriting's messy, ssu."

"Wouldn't dream of it; that'd be asking too much. Mine's messy too. Thanks."
Expressing my thanks, I took the topmost notebook from the pile and opened it.

"Star-star... black star... dried... star?"

My own personal brand of Universal Space Language inadvertently slipped out. Or rather, it was *dragged* out of me. That's how shocking the carnage of characters was—a veritable pile of corpses. I couldn't tell the Romaji from the Japanese. Might as well give up on deciphering any English. Resigning myself to that, I checked the cover and could just barely make out "Japanese History" scrawled in thick marker pen. *Eh? This is written *entirely* in Japanese?!*

*...What am I gonna do?* I could feel sweat trickling down my back and the nape of my neck.