---

---

"My, Mii-san," Natsuki-san said, "You possess such personal virtue, it's as if you scatter shimmering scales wherever you go."

"Well, animal fortune-telling *did* say I was a butterfly," I thought. "This is my true calling, just displaying my real talent."
Anzu-chan muttered something like, "That's not real," but her voice was too quiet for me to catch. Huh. A contradiction seems to be lurking nearby.

"Well then, to help uphold your reputation, Mii-san, I suppose I'll have to pretend to be charmed too. Here you go."
Natsuki-san took something from her handbag – still in the plastic bag from the convenience store behind her – and handed it to me. Canned crab or chocolate? I estimated the odds were about fifty-fifty.
I accepted it with an utterly uninspired "Thank you very much." How pathetic.

"And this one is from Koibi."
Another one piled on top. This one didn't seem to be a direct convenience store import – no plastic bag. My haul for today was now up over three thousand percent compared to last year. If I graphed this, the permanent marker would probably shoot right off the page and onto my arm.

"So, how exactly did you and these kids end up..." *Like a mother and her children? An older sister and her siblings? Did you kidnap them, Natsuki-san?* Since any of those thoughts felt like they'd earn me a karate chop, I instinctively censored myself. Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Natsuki-san parted her glossy lips. Although, if she *really* sensed my thoughts, I'd probably be dodging a 'hell thrust' right about now.

"This evening, these two came by asking for your address, Mii-san. During the interview after we took them in when they'd run away, they mentioned being acquainted with you, and it seems they remembered that. Besides, they didn't have any way to contact you."
Natsuki-san smiled at Kouta and the others. Faced with that standardized, almost educational-TV-host smile, Kouta offered a vague laugh in return, while Anzu-chan just stared intently at me. It seems that while these two remembered Natsuki-san's face, remembering the route home on the night they were released had been too much to ask.

"I was happy to help them fulfill their dream of giving you chocolates, but considering your situation, Mii-san, I had them wait until this evening."
*Because Mayu's around, of course...* The same thought likely swirled through all four of our minds.

"I received permission from both of your parents, and unworthy as I am, I, Kamiyashiro, was allowed to accompany you out tonight. Now then, Kouta-kun, Anzu-san, please get in the car. We promised your parents we'd head straight home once your errand was done."
Natsuki-san placed a hand on each of their backs, guiding them toward a blue car in the parking lot. So she had her own car. Also, I wondered what criteria she used to classify people – calling Ikeda Anzu "-san," but Misono Mayu "-chan."

Kouta-kun and Anzu-chan looked up at me, their feet seeming heavy. What was it? Did they have something else to say? Was there more? As if to clear the air thick with confusion, Natsuki-san invited me along too, "Mii-san, why don't you join us?" Instantly, the weight seemed to lift from their steps, and the shadows from their faces.

"We could talk a bit more in the car, or..." Kouta began.
"...Yeah, okay, let's do that," I agreed.
Anzu-chan took my hand and started pulling me along, and just like that, we reached the car without any hindrance.

Knowing Natsuki-san, I'd half-expected her to say something like, "Oh, dear, this car only seats three," partway there.
Oops. Did I say that out loud?
"Unfortunately, if I did that, those two probably wouldn't get in either and would just end up going back with you, Mii-san. I can't have that interfering with my duties."
Natsuki-san replied with perfect composure, as if she were observing everything from on high.

"Oh, really?" I asked the two of them.
"Is that right?" Kouta asked Anzu.
Anzu-chan's ears turned bright red for some reason. "I told you, you don't need to ask stuff like that!" she scolded, swatting Kouta's hand away. Then, she looked up at me from under her eyelashes.
"Come back... with us," she pleaded.
"...Okay."

*A girl who adores the very person who acted as an accomplice to her kidnapper, who even used her as bait for a murderer. Don't these siblings feel any doubt? Any revulsion? ...Even I have to admit, it's a bizarrely ironic relationship. But... the incident's over now. Maybe I just have to accept this kind of thing.*
I listlessly opened the door to the Geronimo Car.

Inside, I didn't take the front passenger seat, but sat in the middle of the back instead. Kouta and Anzu sat flanking me. I asked if they didn't want to sit together, but apparently, this was fine.

"Do you know a girl named Nagase?" I asked Kouta casually.
"Oh, yeah. We were in the same class back in third grade. She's the one who's amazing at swimming, right?"
"Yeah, that's her," I bluffed. *Never actually went swimming with Itsuki, at the beach or the pool. Same goes for her sister, Tooru.*
"Is she doing okay?"
"Um, we're in different classes, so I don't really see her much... Do you know her?"
"Yeah, we're friends. If you've got time, you should try talking to her. Might cure your boredom."
*Her speech is kinda slow, but she acts fast. She's never boring to watch, that one.*
"Okay," Kouta nodded, and we couldn't really expand on the topic of Itsuki any further.
The conversation died. The only sounds left were the car engine and Natsuki-san's whistling.

"Ah, speaking of which..." I started to say something to Kouta on my right, but I felt two tugs on my left sleeve. I swiveled my head that way like an oscillating fan.
"Next, you talk to *me*," Anzu-chan demanded, though she was looking out the window.
"Ah! Sorry, Anzu," Kouta apologized sheepishly to his sister.
"It's fine, you don't hafta apologize," Anzu pouted, glancing at her brother. "I just thought... we should share."
"Yeah, uh..." Honestly, I had no clue what she meant. Vertical split? Horizontal? No idea. But seeing Natsuki-san's stifled laughter in the rearview mirror was *so* irritating, I secretly wanted to embed a shuriken in the whorl of her hair. Right then, time to focus on Anzu-chan, I guess.

"Okay, what should we talk about?"
"Yeah!"
"Speaking of which..." *Wait, what was I trying to talk to Kouta about earlier?* The car making a right turn seemed to have completely wiped it from my memory. Hey, isn't the heat cranked a little high in here? Making me break out in a cold sweat. Just kidding, though.
Perhaps taking pity on my stumped silence, Anzu-chan gave up on conversation.
"Show me your phone number," she demanded instead.
"Hm?" A high school sophomore, relieved to be thrown a lifeline by an elementary school second-grader.
"I'm gonna memorize it."
Anzu-chan held out her tiny palm. I pulled my cell phone – much too big for her hand – from my pocket, brought up my number, and passed it over.
"Zero... nine... zero..." Anzu-chan mumbled, wrestling with the digits on the screen.
I figured Natsuki-san would probably lend us a pen and paper if I asked, but I decided just to watch her try. Kouta was also watching his sister's efforts with an indulgent smile.
And Natsuki-san, no longer stifling it, turned the steering wheel with an open smile on her face.

"Okay, we're here." Natsuki pulled over in front of a detached house and announced our arrival.
It was a Western-style house with two cars parked side-by-side in the garage. Lights blazed in every room, spilling out the windows. By the front door stood a small, unseasonably decorated fir tree.

"Um, well then... see you later." Kouta got out of the car and gave a quick bow.
"Yeah, see ya," I replied as the door shut. Kouta walked around to Anzu's side of the car. Anzu was still sitting there, looking at me.

"I'm going home today, too," Anzu declared strangely, still clutching my phone.
"Yeah...?"
"Because... going to Onii-chan's place... is bad." Anzu aimed her vulnerability straight at me. That kind of teary-eyed look is just unfair. If she ever realizes how effective it is, this kid could grow up to be a real femme fatale.
"You don't want to go home again?"
Anzu shook her head violently, messing up her now-tidier hair.
"It's not like that!"
"Huh?" *Then what is it like?* Kouta, standing behind his sister, looked just as confused as I felt.
"Anzu."
"I know." After an exchange only the two of them seemed to understand, she handed my phone back. But if I let her go home this upset, her parents might get the wrong idea. She looked so dejected.

......Okay, times like this call for...
"Well, you know, if you ever get *really* stuck, with anything at all..." I hesitated, then prompted, starting to recite my number, "Zero, nine, zero..."
"This rest of this, can you say it properly?"
For a second, Anzu just looked blankly at me, caught off guard, her expression purely innocent. But then she realized I was starting the number she'd just been memorizing so intently, and her face lit up with delight.
She recited the rest of the digits with a beaming smile.
Perfect answer.
"Alright then."
"Alright!"
And just like that, I felt like it had turned into a good night after all.

"You really are gentle with younger ones, aren't you, Mii-san?" Natsuki teased gracefully the moment I moved to the passenger seat.
"I'm not a true gentleman yet, so I can't quite manage extending that kindness to my elders."
The car finished turning and pulled away. As it did, I took out the chocolates I'd stashed away.
"Are you planning to eat those now?" Natsuki asked.
"If I take them home, the 'wife' will get jealous." Or rather, *I'll* be the one getting burned. Besides, probably better to avoid just throwing them out.
Ignoring Natsuki's continued jabs—"Such a kind Mii-san"—I opened the first package. It certainly looked more full of hope than Mayu's box, at least. Still, ingesting the equivalent of four people's worth of cocoa confections felt distinctly excessive. If I managed to finish it all in the next ten minutes, I suspected I might start spewing blood or tears. I also had a feeling all the wax in my ears might spontaneously turn into pure sugar. Even so, I started eating. Ravenously. Sweet. Delicious.

"You really are popular, aren't you, Mii-san?" Whether it was praise or simple wonder, I couldn't read anything behind her smile.
"Honestly, I really don't understand why those kids seem to like me so much."
"Oh, that's simple," Natsuki replied without a moment's hesitation. "It's thanks to your personality – the way you can keep tolerating weakness, both in others and in yourself."
"You think so...?" I couldn't agree. I bit into the second chocolate. Sweet.
"And also... this might sound harsh, but your position probably has an influence too. You stand a little apart from the norm, Mii-san."
"......" I licked chocolate off my finger.
"People like that tend to draw attention, for better or worse. And that means you end up having more opportunities to interact with others."
"...Hk." As I sat there silently, Natsuki glanced over, smiling without looking at the road. Hey, now.
"You know, Mii-san, if you recognized your own value a little more, you might find life more enjoyable." Natsuki offered this advice, sounding surprisingly sane for once—like she didn't have a screw loose. "Also," she added one more thing. "If you held back on the *lies* a little more, you could become an even more wonderful boy... more to *my* liking."
......
Natsuki wore a prim smile, her driving perfectly steady. But... did she just cut herself off mid-sentence, squashing some line it would've been wiser for me to just ignore? She totally ruined her own dramatic moment. This woman is just too amusingly cool.
Still, I have no intention of giving up my lies for someone else's sake. ...Yeah. Mayu depends on Mii-kun... but maybe *I* depend on lies.

We took the road leading away from the shopping mall, heading toward the special needs school. All that was left was to follow the school wall and turn into the residential area where Mayu's apartment building loomed. And then, this long day would finally end, turning into tomorrow.

Just as my thoughts were drifting toward the day's end...
"By the way, Mii-san, about Koibi's—!"
Someone dropped into the middle of the road right in front of us.

I slammed forward, the seatbelt biting into my neck and stomach as it locked against the sudden braking. My head snapped back and forth, feeling like it was grinding against my spine. Dammit, the chocolate I was eating fell under the seat.

"Ah. Looks like we didn't hit them."
Without checking who said it, I stared straight ahead.
The figure had appeared by leaping over the wall of the special needs school. Caught in the car's headlights, all surface details were bleached out, reducing them to a mere silhouette. This shadow-person gripped a long, thin object in their right hand—judging by the shape, probably a bat. They seemed to have dropped something on impact, quickly snatching it up. Was that... a knife? Brushing off the knee that had hit the ground, they stood, readjusted something they were cradling in their left arm, and then bolted, running full tilt. Without a single glance sideways, they sprinted in a straight line and vanished into the night. What was that? A thief? Some kind of creep?

"Mii-san? Did you hurt yourself anywhere?" Natsuki asked, sounding somewhat serious as she readjusted herself in the driver's seat.
"Ah, yeah, I'm fine." More importantly, though... just as the figure ran out of the headlights' glare, they regained their color for an instant. Small frame. Eyes meeting mine. Stains below the elbow and waist, the familiar color of blood. A child's wooden bat in hand. And on top of that, a face... a face I felt like I'd seen it somewhere...
"...Ah!"

Something crawled through the skin behind my forehead and between my eyes, like a many-legged insect slithering stickily free.
*Long, long ago... half-blood... dog killer... cat eater... funeral... mikan orange... sister too...? Sister... imouto? My! Sister?*
Was *that*...?
I dug my nails into my skin, trying to claw at whatever was crawling around inside my flesh, cursing *something*.
If... if my memory and my eyes weren't failing me...
"Aah... goddammit... what *was* that?"

"That person just now..." Natsuki started.
*Why? Why the hell is she alive again?!*
"Mii-san?" Natsuki shook my shoulder.
This time, I couldn't even manage to say I was okay.
"Yes? What about that girl just now?"
"She might be... my sister. My dead sister..."
At my words, devoid of any lie or artifice, Natsuki simply stared, her eyes wide.

And so, the conclusion to the day when all the Takkuns and Hii-chans, Tsukuns and Acchans, Yukkuns and Ko-chans, Nacchans, Mii-kuns, and Maa-chans of the world get giddy and love-struck – Valentine's Day – vanished into the past, leaving me with nothing but suspicion, shock, and sheer absurdity.

***

The next day, I found out during the morning assembly at school.
On the same night I encountered that *thing* that looked like my sister...
Souda Yoshihito had died.
The brutally murdered corpse of the Beautification Committee Chairman—a final, defiant middle finger to the brief two months of peace.
The town's worst revitalization project—its reputation as Murder Town—had started up again.
And the key player behind it... was my sister (probably).

*If my usual catchphrases are going to kick in, now would be a good time.*

---

**Chapter 2: Our Esteemed Sister.**

Cut. Crush. Cut. Crush.
Cut. Crush. Never missing. Cut. Crush. Stop. Many.
Finely. Cut. Crush. Correctly.
Cut. Crush. Cut. Crush. Low sound.
Cut. Crush. Into pieces.

---

My father's name was Minami. My mother was Misa, my older brother Shiba. As for my sister's name... I can't bring myself to say it.

My father was a slender man. Glasses suited him, as did a smile that could give you goosebumps. Contrary to his gentle appearance, he was a heavy drinker and a glutton, and it was practically routine for him to come home banging on the gate and making a racket at three in the morning. Still, he'd always show up for breakfast the next morning looking completely unfazed before heading off to work, and for that alone, the family rated him highly. At least, until Mom died, and my sister's mother came to live with us.
His hobbies included cheerful chats with the radio, and one-sided physical communication. His taste in women ran toward girls around the age of ten; Maa-chan and Nagase Tooru were particular favorites of his. ......Apparently, my own tastes are inherited. I want to deny it so badly it makes me sick, but who knows if I can. He died at thirty-nine. Never made it to forty, the age of clarity.

My mother was defined by her ramrod straight posture and honest personality—a straight-line sort of woman, if you had to categorize her. She constantly scolded me for slouching and forced me—under the guise of 'recommending' it—to sit seiza-style at the dinner table. She hated losing and would absolutely never be the first to back down, even in fights with my father. Cause of death? Unknown. I think... I've forgotten. She died at thirty-two. She was herself right up to the moment of death, her spine straight even as a corpse.

My older brother was the kind of boy who inspired faint hope in a select few that he might at least grow up to be a young man who liked books. He started dyeing his hair blond with his New Year's gift money when he was five, and spent his days devouring the books our grandfather had once collected. I never managed to sustain a conversation with him for more than ten minutes straight. He never spoke a single word to our sister or her mother—maybe he hated them. In the end, during the closing ceremony of the first semester, he jumped from the gymnasium ceiling. Suicide. He left this world leaving behind only one memory for the entire student body: a deep-seated trauma involving tomato ketchup.
Ever since then, I've been teased by classmates about it. That's how I learned about the existence of innocent malice.

I was recalling these things about my family against the backdrop of Fushimi Yuyu, diligently absorbed in her work.

February 19th, after school. Five days after the murder of Beautification Committee Chairman Souda Yoshihito. It was just past 3:30 PM.

"Yeah, yeah."
I was out on the wind-swept athletic field, participating in club activities.

Following the instructions in the notebook Fushimi held up, I adjusted the sound equipment. Fushimi glanced at my work, then went back to her own task. Perhaps because all the club members were present today (just saying that makes something pathetic well up inside me), the corners of her eyes seemed crinkled a bit more than usual.
Fushimi Yuyu. President of the Amateur Radio Club, and a second-year like me. It's hard to describe her in words. If I had to try, maybe just "eccentric" would fit best. It's not that her looks or personality are bad, exactly.
Her biggest problem lies in her unique philosophy regarding language itself. Fushimi carries an indigo-colored notebook filled with various words and sentences, each followed by several tally marks (the character 正). She claims she's "stockpiling" them. What purpose this serves is a mystery to anyone but her. Probably falls under the category of "My Rules," I guess. Fundamentally, as a member of the student council... When I first casually joined the club and walked into the room, Fushimi's first words to me were, "Welcome welcome welcome." The fact that I, in turn, instinctively responded with a humble, "Nice to meet you-ssu, nice to meet you-ssu, nice to meet you-ssu"... okay, that's a lie. But it *is* kind of sad that the chance to use up the two 'stockpiled' welcomes hasn't come up yet.
And one other thing. If Fushimi has *another* problem area, it might be her chest, which makes its presence strongly felt even through her uniform. Might be a bit much for standard Japanese tastes, you know? They tend to head upwards and downwards quite a bit just from her walking.

"Okay, all done," I reported.
Fushimi pointed to the word "Standby" in her notebook. When I acknowledged it, she took out an eraser and carefully removed one stroke from a tally mark beneath the word. The whole process seemed needlessly complicated, but she looked quite satisfied with herself, so I didn't see any point in commenting.
I never realized she was this quirky back when we were kids.

Following the club president's instructions, I waited idly, hands empty. I was bored enough to consider a staring contest with Fushimi, but someone like me, terrified of M-san (ah, that's both her first *and* last initial), would never dare attempt something so reckless.

From the dedicated field on the other side of the school building, the metallic shriek of the baseball club's bats echoed. Behind me, I could hear the clash of bamboo swords from the kendo hall. And against this BGM, accompanied by the music equipment we were adjusting, the drama club was putting on a frenzy of song and performance... Even though a student from our school was dead, even though the news proclaimed the return of a murderer, the world carried on peacefully. Business as usual. Except, perhaps, for one person.
...... But anyway.

The glorious activity of the prestigious Amateur Radio Club... consisted of helping out the Drama Club. Apparently, if we didn't engage in *some* kind of activity, we wouldn't get our club budget, so Fushimi reluctantly took on this job. The main reason being that neither the president nor the vice president actually holds an amateur radio license. Becoming even a Grade 3 Amateur Radio Operator is a distant, distant dream. My only qualification is Grade 3 on the Kanji Aptitude Test; Fushimi's is Grade 4 on the English Proficiency Test. In other words, we're sub-amateurs. No different from the Go-Home-After-School Club.

"Are we going to try recruiting new members next school year?" I asked Fushimi, who was sitting on the curb separating the asphalt path to the kendo hall from the ochre dirt of the field.
Fushimi flipped through her notebook. Apparently finding no suitable entry, she opened her mouth to speak—a rare occurrence.
"I entrust it to you entrust it to you entrust it to you."
Fushimi turned into a tape stuck on repeat, rewind, repeat. Her voice quality is unique—raspy, like trying to speak with a throat full of desert sand. Less a voice, more just... noise. *Note that down in my own notebook.*

I shifted my gaze from Fushimi to the Drama Club. As an exercise in overcoming stage fright, the members were taking turns passionately singing a song of their choice. Anyone who couldn't provide a CD had to go a capella. Right now, the club president, Shinoda, was bellowing out Zard's "Makenaide" in a booming voice. His singing ability didn't sound like it was winning anything. But anyway, that's not important.

The problem—or maybe not really a problem, just annoying—was Mayu, over in a corner in her gym clothes, doing her own exercises and ignoring the main club activity. Moving her limbs with the blank, expressionless face she saves for public appearances—a Noh mask state—Mayu looked like the lead puppet in some kind of show. And the boy standing nearby, smiling as if watching over her... his presence felt, how to put it... like that miso soup they sometimes serve with curry. Pointless. Is there any actual reason for that pairing? That's kind of how I felt about him being there. Makes no sense, I know.
This was the boy from my grade who'd invited Mayu to join the club in the classroom the other day. He'd introduced himself as Inazawa Yasuyuki two days ago. But since two days had passed, either my memory had degraded, or he'd legally changed his name, because now he might as well be Inaba Kazumasa. Therefore, I decided henceforth to refer to him as Inaba. A meaningless lie.

Now, why was Mayu—who detests living things and loathes group activities—actually participating? Well, it all stemmed from the fleshiness of her sides, of course.
Four days ago, upon waking, Mayu had engaged in some intense, self-motivated reflection. "I'm gonna get thin!!" she had re-declared, slapping me back and forth across the face for emphasis, thoroughly fired up. Then, sometime when I wasn't around, who knows what Inazawa filled her head with, but she'd decided to join the Drama Club solo to learn weight-loss methods, hence the current swinging and bouncing. The other club members wisely pretended not to notice. All except Inaba, that is.
I'd watched her from the sidelines on the first day, but that resulted in the "lovey-dovey couple" (us, apparently) making eye contact about three times a minute, causing Mayu to freeze up each time. So, Mayu tearfully decided she'd just have to try her best while keeping her distance from me. Her determination stuck a disposable heat pack onto my heart and practically sterilized the corners of my eyes with boiling tears. Although, since a few days have passed, that effect has worn off by now.
Anyway, Mayu was currently absorbed in her weight-loss efforts. I had no right to stop her without good reason. Partly because I was the one who pointed out her weight in the first place, and partly because, with her, there's always a strong tendency to veer off in dangerous directions, so I couldn't really object to her pursuing a relatively healthy activity.
I'd already confirmed during dinner that she still eats obediently if I feed her ("Aaahn"), so I was somewhat relieved that she wouldn't resort to extreme fasting, and let her be.
.........However... that Inaba guy... hmm... *Red-tagged.*

*"What are you glaring at?"* read Fushimi's notebook.
"Just sending some brainwaves."
*"Without using any equipment?"* she asked, this time using her actual voice.