---

---

*Life's... hard. The paths we walk are different.*
***Lying Mii-kun and Broken Maa-chan***
***The Foundation of Death is Life***

---

**Chapter 1: "Me and Mayu-Style Valentine's"**

Let's go with that.
Having decided, I start to act.
My steps are light. Various other things are light too.
But the resolve is definitely there.
I have to try, I have to do it.
.........And so.
Even if my body protests that it might not be capable, my heart brushes it aside.
Because when I pictured the outcome, I couldn't suppress a smirk.

---

Today was February 14th.
Early this morning, in Mayu's bedroom, I'd casually glanced at my phone's LCD screen, and the date stimulated my cerebrum. Attached to it, the meaning imbued in this day was dragged out.
If I recall correctly, it was the day for indulging in that national sport where men and women exchange cocoa-infused black confectionery, saying "It's nothing much," and ultimately determine victory or defeat based on whether they can get physical with each other. The details are a lie, though.

Leaning back on my hands on the bed where I sat, I let my optic nerves capture the temporary owner of this room. Misono Mayu, a messy sleeper, was sound asleep with the pillow under her back. She was covered by two blankets, including mine. Facing away from the sunlight pouring through the wide-open curtains, Mayu showed no aversion to messing up her slightly overgrown hair. The bandages had already been removed from her head, and her fingertips now only showed the faintest traces of scars. Likewise, my own face and right leg had happily reverted to their proper yellow-skinned state, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say the injuries from my hospitalization were fully healed. Although, my right leg isn't quite up to a full sprint yet; it's still in rehab. Anyway, back to the topic.

Life with Mayu has resumed. Unlike the hospital life, which was permeated by the ordinary element of being fellow inpatients, this is a space where no interfering elements exist besides Mayu. The kidnapped elementary schooler has also been removed, making it a true, genuine cohabitation. Perhaps because of that... though I hesitate to phrase it this way, the concentration of "something" eroding me, given through contact with Mayu, has spiked recently. Could it just be my imagination that the hospital felt like a more normal place for us than our everyday life?

Next, I slowly turn my thoughts toward Mayu. What kind of actions will Mayu take today? It's unthinkable that Maa-chan would overlook an event like this when it comes to Mii-kun. About as likely as a beautiful female teacher (23, teaches Japanese history) being assigned to an all-boys school. There was no noticeable reaction from her yesterday, but I can easily picture her getting swept up in the excitement today with the force of someone carrying a festival shrine all by herself.
However, based on past information, I infer that the previous Mii-kun had a weakness for sweets, so perhaps nothing noteworthy will happen. Maybe, playing on the color connection, mackerel simmered in miso will just grace our dinner table. If I say, "This tastes great," *bam*, it becomes Miso Appreciation Day. Just kidding, though.

Ah, but lately, there are sweets with less sugar, or rather, practically none at all, right?
"Well, it doesn't really matter, though..."
It's not like a single edible brown plank could deepen the isolationist bond between Mii-kun and Maa-chan as much as digging for a hot spring. Now, if it were gold-colored sweets, *that* might shake things up significantly. In this world, for better or worse, there's nothing that can't be swayed by money. That's a lie, though.
Because there's a girl right beside me who follows emotions completely detached from the mundane world.

Come to think of it, I received one brownish slab last year. Sensei dropped by my place for some reason related to an anniversary or something and left it. This year, though, knowing Mayu's here, there's no way Sensei would give me anything. She even told me to never show my face again, cutting ties completely.

I check my phone again, this time for the time.
In about ten minutes, I have to wake Mayu, get her ready (I do most of it), and pretend to go diligently study at our schoolhouse. There's no need to normalize the abnormal, so school life is important and convenient.

My neck started to feel tired and register a minor ache, so I decided to face forward. The newly built houses visible below the window were lightly dusted with snow that fell last night. This is the eighth snow scene since the New Year began. When I was a kid, just seeing snow fall was enough to make me lose my mind with pure joy, wasn't it... *sigh*.
Was that a lie? My childhood memories concerning myself are genuinely ambiguous. They're all mixed up, the boundary lines lost, like some candy kneaded by an old lady dressed as a witch who insists it's delicious. Did I lie so much that a wolf gnawed on my brain?

To dispel the pain of my past collectively besieging my mind, I get my restless legs and heavy head moving.
It's a bit early, but my resolution for this year is to act five minutes ahead. Just decided that, though.
Turning back to face Mayu, there's obviously no time for antics like "Maa-chan, wakey wakey," "Mii-kun, kissy kissy," "Muah," so I grab hold of the blanket.

Rip off the blanket. Haul Mayu to the washroom. Wash her face with cold water sharp enough to belong to a pubescent middle schooler. At this point, Mayu's consciousness faintly sprouts. After wiping her face with a towel, I gently pat Mayu's cheeks to encourage wakefulness and instruct her to fix her bedhead. Leaving the sleepy-eyed Mayu for a moment, I prepare her uniform. I also get out the unused school bag. Then, until Mayu comes to the living room, I watch TV. Since we don't subscribe to a newspaper, I gather worldly information from the news. I don't tune into NHK (the *other* NHK, not the Nihon Hikikomori Kyoukai), but watch a local program lacking both local charm and economic viability. After a segment about a new animal added to the livestock center, a favorite field trip destination for elementary schools, the report I've been paying attention to begins.

For about a month and a half now, sporadic animal killings have been occurring. Dogs, cats, chickens from a special needs school, and this time, ducks living in an elementary school's animal hutch.
Cause, connection, motive, perpetrator – all currently unknown in this case.
From the moment I first learned of it, this matter makes my back teeth ache with a bitter memory.
"... "
There are clearly different factors involved, though. But still, I can't help but recall it. Recall my little sister.
*Roaming the fields and mountains, taking the lives of small animals, she used them for food.*
That's the kind of girl she was.

...No way, I tell myself, dismissing the thought.
"Mornin'......"
The 'youkai antenna' that had been sticking up on the back of her head finally surrendered to gravity, and Mayu, having arranged her hair into its standard style, appeared with shuffling steps, drawing near. Tears welled in her rubbing eyes.
"Morning. Okay, get changed."
"Nnngh..." Mayu sluggishly sheds her pajamas, scattering them about, and awkwardly picks up her uniform. Meanwhile, I turn off the TV and decide to prepare her breakfast. Though it's just a glass of milk, a so-called "ten-second charge" kind of meal. She declared, "*Maa-chan will drink her milk properly and get bigger than Mii-kun,*" and her daily diligence in upholding this deserves my utmost praise, which I want to announce to the whole neighborhood. That's a huge lie, though.

Cup in hand, I return to the living room. Mayu has just finished putting on her socks and is dressed in her uniform. I stand in front of her, straighten the hem of her uniform, and run my fingers through her hair once. It's still damp and lukewarm. Mayu downs the milk I poured so full you could enjoy the surface tension, and then we head outside side-by-side.
Stifling a yawn, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek, Mayu faces forward. Her expression hardens.
Her lips tighten naturally, betraying no hint of her mood. Her eyes lose all extraneous movement. Her eyes don't react to the scenery, nor does her gaze drift to the small birds landing on the power lines. The girl lacks the unconscious movements innate to living beings. But then, a random question pops into my head: up to what age is it okay to use the word "girl"? Just kidding, though. ...Oh?

As if to nullify my commentary, Mayu's eyes shifted. She was following a bicycle that passed beside us. She seemed particularly focused on the wheels.
"Something wrong with the bicycle?"
When I ask, she says, "It's nothing," and fixes her gaze forward again. What was that about?

Mayu squeezes my hand. Her five fingers slide between mine, intertwining with them. A ripe heat invades my palm, simply conjuring an illusion of melting and merging.
"Do you know what day it is today?"
I ask, struck by a sudden thought.
Mayu looks up at the creature that is me, her neat lips parting slightly.
"My mom's birthday and Valentine's Day."
A reply delivered with absolutely no hesitation.
My first point of admiration is that despite sleeping so soundly, she hasn't lost track of the date.

And then, hmm.
Looks like we're heading towards establishing an anniversary, maybe.

---

The post-school clamor fills the classroom.
My classmate and fellow Beautification Committee member (female), Biwashima Yagoto, visited my desk, leading me to realize that besides February 14th, today was also the second Wednesday of the month.
"Let's go, Senpai."
Being called "Senpai" so cheerfully by someone in the same grade forces me to personally endure the hardships of a student held back a year. It makes me feel like quitting the club I'm currently in and founding a "Repeating a Grade Club." Actually, I did experience a pseudo-repeat back in elementary school. Not that I wanted to skip school or anything. It was due to my parents forcing their educational approach on me, but well, it doesn't really matter now.

Be that as it may, every second Wednesday of the month is the meeting day for each committee. Even though I didn't exactly volunteer eagerly when I first enrolled, I've been serving on the Beautification Committee as leftover goods. I've accumulated a full two years of committee experience now, but my right to speak is practically nonexistent. My unenthusiastic attitude must be getting through to everyone, not through words, but through their hearts.
"What's wrong?"
Biwashima clasps her hands behind her back and peers into my face. Unlike the freezing politeness Mayu uses with classmates, Biwashima's tone lacks sharp edges. But they're not completely absent either.
I take a moment with a noncommittal "Uh-huh," and shift my gaze to the left side of the classroom, to Mayu's desk. Misono-san, slumped over her desk in a beautifully drawn C-curve, hasn't shown a single twitch since fourth period. Even if a magnitude 5 earthquake hit right here, Mayu's sleep probably wouldn't register it as a disturbance. Ah, thinking about it that way, isn't it dangerous to leave Mayu alone in the classroom and attend the committee meeting? I became terribly worried. Before I could add that it was a lie, I reconsidered that a major earthquake is a crisis no matter where you are, and stood up. I tore a page from my notebook and wrote a memo addressed to Mayu. Though convinced it was pointless, I wrote that I was at the committee meeting and that she should wait a bit at her desk. But the world isn't so kind as to have Mayu strictly follow such instructions. I can picture her tracking down my location and bursting in with majestic dignity.

I approach Mayu's desk and slip the note scrap between it and her elbow. Then, I head towards the classroom entrance where Biwashima is waiting for me. Biwashima watched my entire sequence of actions from beginning to end, a faint smile on her lips. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I say lightly, and we start walking down the hallway side-by-side.
The hallway, dominated by the winter sun which is losing its battle against the low temperature, is devoid of scenes like students lingering to chat. The most you can appreciate are the retreating figures of students scattering off to club activities or home, while exchanging complaints about the cold.

"Senpai, did you get any chocolate?"
Biwashima throws out some harmless small talk. "It's a lean year," I reply simply.
"Is that so? Well, I guess it can't be helped for you, Senpai."
That statement's meaning can be big or small depending on how you take it. Biwashima nods to herself, "Uh-huh, uh-huh," seemingly convinced. Each time she nods, the slight tremor of her plain, pale-colored hair catches my eye. Then, like a fluorescent light switching on, her expression took on a warm hue.
"Ah, please don't expect any from me, okay? I don't dislike you *that* much, Senpai, but you lack future prospects."

She delivered this proclamation in a friendly tone. I felt no spirit to refute the fact; rather, I was almost impressed by the brain of a high school girl who considers factors like "future prospects" when selecting people.

We head towards the end of the hall, in the opposite direction of the stairs. Turning right there, we pass through the connecting corridor, aiming for a classroom in a different building. As if contrasting with the new building housing our classroom, the committee space is set up in a school building with a strong, wooden self-assertion. Cultural clubs also have their base in the old building, carrying out their modest activities against the backdrop of shouts from the baseball team, which even has its own dedicated field.

"But it's fine for you, Senpai, since you're guaranteed to get some from Misono-senpai. My younger brother goes to an all-boys school, and apparently, they get worked up in a really sour way every year."
Biwashima cheerfully turns her relative's unpleasant situation (it'd be scary if she enjoyed it) into an amusing story. Hearing this, I vaguely set a goal to exchange maybe two or three more lines of conversation. No particular reason.
"Did you get any chocolate, Biwashima?"
My classmate's right foot slid out as if enjoying the slippery floor, causing her to lose her balance. It was what you'd commonly call a pratfall.
"I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that question, but are you insulting me?"
"It's just social etiquette. You asked me, so I asked you back."
Besides, girl-to-girl gift-giving probably looks better than boy-to-boy, right?
"Well then, setting aside who you'd receive from, is there anyone you're giving to?"
This time, her left foot took a bold step forward and did a backflip. Just kidding. She just glared at me sideways with a look full of exasperation.
"Senpai, the way you pretend to be an idiot is creepy. I don't dislike it, but I definitely couldn't ever like you."
After showering me with overly critical insults, Biwashima puts distance between us at a race-walking pace.
To cooperate with Biwashima's wish fulfillment, I stop in the middle of the corridor. That reason is a lie.
But still, that's overestimating me. There's no way I've reached the level of a wise fool capable of putting on such an act.
"............'Good grief'... Is this the scene where I'm supposed to say that?"
I rolled my shoulders, stiff from the difficulties of human interaction, and let out a breath.

Then, after glancing sideways at the discussion of the Cultural Committee – a grand name for what is essentially the Library Committee – I followed Biwashima's back, slicing through the air with my shoulders.
Deciding to walk just slowly enough not to catch up.

This is the story of a boy and girl who sought their path as members of the Beautification Committee, sometimes arguing and clashing, sometimes pointing the blades of purification at each other in conflict.
Pumping myself up alone with such false hyperbole, I follow Biwashima through the classroom door she opened. About seventy percent of the committee members were already seated. However, since the committee chair and vice-chair lovebirds weren't yet at the decaying lectern, everyone had formed their own groups and was busy chatting. The room, filled with dust and dimly lit by dark curtains awkwardly covering the window edges, was steeped in an unhealthy and decadent atmosphere, looking like delinquents could use it as a smoking lounge.

As I step into the classroom, gazes converge on me from a wide area in front. I can't stand that feeling, like a rite of passage that occurs in the school environment. It feels like I have to apply a thin film to my skin every time I enter or leave a room; I just can't deal with it.
Scratching my cheek, I pass in front of the lectern and sit in the middle of the three rows of desks, second from the front. The desks are placed two together, and Biwashima sits next to me, resting her cheek on her hand. It's not a rule, but trying to organize the seating chart by class is the duty of the Beautification Committee. Not that I care.

When I pulled out my chair, Biwashima glanced at me; when I sat down, she looked away. She's clearly angry. Our earlier exchange isn't just lingering; it's practically sizzling with fat. Hmm, that makes no sense.
As if hiding from the surrounding chatter, we faced the blackboard in enforced silence, killing time.
It was about ten minutes later that the Chair and his mate showed up, borderline late.
"Whoa, sorry, sorry. Took some time getting this,"
The Chair flashes a grin so bright it looks like the word "Refreshing" might be printed coming out of his nostrils – a real "Burst forth, youth!" moment – showing off the spoils of war in his right hand. From the looks of the two, I can tell it's the prize won from his girlfriend, the Vice Chair, in a game of rock-paper-scissors, but were these two holding an award ceremony or something? Look, even Biwashima is furrowing her brow and shutting her eyes tightly. Though maybe that's my fault.

Ignoring our sentiments, the Chair, Souda Yoshihito, steps up to the lectern, and the Vice Chair, Ichimiya Kawana, stands beside him as if in attendance. Ichimiya covers her mouth with a small towel, as if despising the environment where she has to inhale dust and oxygen simultaneously.

If I were to describe Ichimiya Kawana from a third-party perspective, she's like a lady and a noblewoman merged together, but the separation failed. Six years ago, she caught the public eye as a little rich girl elementary student, and twenty years from now, she seems like the type to establish something like the "Kawana Room."
As for Yoshihito, his refreshing looks are incredibly popular with the girls. End of explanation. Oh, and long, long ago, up until about third grade, we used to walk to school together. Now, we don't even exchange greetings at the shoe lockers.

"Alright, attention. Attention, please."
Yoshihito raps the lectern twice and holds up the package. What does he want us to pay attention to?
"Okay, so today, about the dog killings in town... uh, cat killings work too. The school decided we need to make some kind of announcement and warning about it. And, this is some chocolate I bought. Okay, the rest is up to you."
With a slack demeanor, Yoshihito briefly explains the gist of it and yields the floor to Ichimiya. Ichimiya usually takes on the role of facilitator. Probably because her somewhat intimidating tone is reasonably effective at preventing others from chatting. With a toss of her head, so full of hair you'd suspect extensions, Ichimiya steps up to the lectern.
"Currently, incidents of animals being senselessly killed are occurring frequently in this town. Among the victims are students from our school, and the Student Council proposed that we cannot simply stand by and watch."
After each sentence break, Ichimiya turns to look back diagonally at Yoshihito as if for confirmation. They're one of the top idiot couples (etc.) in school, and seeing them doesn't exactly inspire a competitive spirit in us like, "We can't lose to them!" Anyway, glancing sideways, Biwashima had opened her eyes but was squinting, staring intently at Ichimiya. Reading the thoughts behind her gaze, they probably amounted to something like, "Having to waste time dealing with this lovey-dovey couple is practically a crime." I feel like she might not be entirely wrong.

"However, the Beautification Committee has absolutely no intention of committing the folly of following our school's Student Council."
At Ichimiya's declaration, almost everyone offers a vague laugh like, "Well, yeah..." Unable to muster a smile instantly, I put on an innocent face and considered, "That might be true."
This school's Student Council is filled with personnel who, in a different sense than Mayu, don't understand Japanese. The Student Council President, Sugawara, belonged to the category of perfectly decent people, aside from the murder. He had a strong sense of self-assertion, but also possessed a unique charisma and the skill to act as a mediator. Since he disappeared, the Student Council's recklessness has been in top form, you could say. Maybe the root of the problem lies in the fact that serious candidates don't get elected in the Student Council elections. The only one you can have a proper conversation with is probably the secretary, Fushimi.

"What we should be doing is not solving the problem, but cleaning up afterwards. Due to the influence of these incidents, signs of decay are becoming visible in the town. Roads dirtied by animal carcasses are being further piled up with trash. To prevent this, we will expand our activities beyond just the school grounds to include cleaning activities within the town. That is the gist of the Beautification Committee's policy..."
Ichimiya continues to fulfill her duties as Vice Chair appropriately, using reserved gestures. The student to my right records her words, which will become material for a handout later. Then, the distributed handout will be ignored by most students, crumpled up, and treated as trash.

While letting Ichimiya's words flow past me, I used this morning's news as a primer to organize the outline of the incidents in my head.
Cases where only animals are being killed.
The first incident occurred around the time the New Year's specials had all aired and students had finished enjoying their winter break. I think it was a dog, named Merii, found looking like it had assisted in an alien experiment that went horribly wrong. Merii, whose limbs were crushed enough to be made into hamburger meat, exposed as a corpse, inflicted significant trauma on the elementary schooler who found it while walking to school – so Kaneko, who provisionally took over as kendo club captain, mentioned during cleaning duty chatter. Apparently, Kaneko's younger brother was the first discoverer. The victim was also apparently the Kaneko family's dog.
Since then, centering mainly on stray cats and pet dogs, the killing incidents have frequently occurred, occasionally involving rare species like weasels or ducks from school hutches. The townspeople are taking it seriously, as the return of a second or perhaps third deviant. However, because no humans have been harmed, the police aren't fully committing to the investigation.

"...This also relates to the Disciplinary Committee, but recently, there's been an increasing trend of high school students wandering the downtown area late at night. I won't comment on the rightness or wrongness of that, but many people are dumping trash from food items purchased at convenience stores, etc., into fields or rivers..."
Unlike the murder case caused by Sugawara, the state of the carcasses is almost uniform. The current deviant's preference is to thoroughly pulverize them, processing them into something flat that, at first glance, looks like it's been mixed with tomato ketchup. This, again, chills people to the bone unnecessarily, even though it's not summer.
The impact of that gruesomeness was enough to instantly overwrite the ripples caused by the Nawa Mitsuaki case, the body discovered at the hospital. Come to think of it, even when I run into Nagase Tooru at school, she bolts like a startled rabbit, making even a greeting impossible. As for her sister, Itsuki, I haven't heard anything about her at all. I can only pray that her grandfather's desperate act and my own injuries bore fruit, and that the camouflage of being a girl who couldn't even kill a mosquito serves her well in life from now on. Though I have no idea who I should be praying to.

Returning to the main topic.
This time, neither Maa-chan nor Mii-kun should be involved. Especially Maa-chan, I can state that with certainty. In the nearly two months since Mayu was discharged from the hospital, the number of times she's gone out alone doesn't even require all the fingers on both hands to count. I accompanied her shopping, we were together in bed, through fire and water – if I wished it, Mayu would probably accompany me. The point seems to have shifted somewhat, but that's how it is.

So, I should just be able to wave my arms freely and go "*Mii-ii-kun, let's plaa-ay-ay,*" "*Maa-aa-chan, let's go plaa-ay*," but...
...But still, somehow.