---

---

Touching Mayu's cheek. Her skin is so thoroughly chilled that I can feel just how hot my own hand is.
Letting her keep sitting on the asphalt, exposed to the cold wind, is bad for her body. Alright,
"Okay, close your eyes and take a slow, deep breath."
She follows my instructions so obediently, I feel like I could get a job as a hypnotist.
Savoring the feel of the hair at the nape of her neck with my palm, I pull Mayu closer.
"Even if it's pitch black, I'm... I'm right here beside you. S-so... So, you can relax and go to sleep."
I cursed my tongue twice midway through that sentence. What am I, allergic to being serious?
".........Okay, sleep. Tomorrow, we'll play..."
"That's right. Good night. Have sweet dreams."
"Mm... I'll dream of Mii-kun........."
With that fragile whisper, Maa-chan touches a sunken place in my heart.
About five minutes pass, and she starts breathing evenly in sleep again.
...Dreaming of Mii-kun, huh.
Spot on. She really does have sharp intuition, doesn't she? Seriously.
But I wonder how long she can keep seeing him.

Now that things have settled, I turn just my head. My sister hasn't fled or hidden herself; she's just standing there.
Pretty gutsy of her. Witnessing Mayu like that without backing down an inch.

"So, what *is* that?"
My sister asks a question using similar words as before, but with an entirely different meaning.
Ignoring the emotion dwelling in her eyes, I look straight at her and say it again.
"Misono Mayu. She lives with me. We're one of those idiotically lovey-dovey couples."
Though the *content* of that statement is completely different.
Still, this version I could say with more confidence.

I hoist Mayu firmly onto my back. My shoulder aches slightly—or so I pretend. Truthfully, it hurts so bad I want to howl 'Gyuuuugyuraaa!' at the night sky. If I soaked in a hot bath, I'd probably end up staring at the ceiling screaming 'Uryyyyyyyy!'
"Well, I'm heading home. You shouldn't stay out too late either."
Might run into a serial killer on their way home from cram school or something.
Ah, speaking of which, my sister was a prime suspect, wasn't she.
Not that it matters.
Like I'm imitating Ichimiya and the others, I slip past my sister with Mayu on my back. She watches us go with a speculative look in her eyes.
I get the sense she's confused, but my ability to read people isn't much to speak of, so I don't count on it.
"Glad to see you're doing okay,"
I call back over my shoulder after passing her. I had to at least say that.
I felt like she twisted her neck to stare at my back. But I don't turn around, just keep walking.
Resignation and exhaustion mingle, filling my heart.
Ichimiya Kawana, Biwashima Yagoto, my sister.
In the midst of this night where nothing has been resolved, I'm deluding myself with a flimsy sense of accomplishment.
Confirming my sister was okay—a positive step, for me.
All that's left is to know when to make my exit and leave the stage.

...However, it really seems I'm just not blessed with the right atmosphere to make a cool exit.
Just when I'd gotten a little less than fifteen meters away from my sister. *Thwack!* Something hits the back of my head with a hollow sound.

It hurts more than expected, but I don't have a hand free enough to rub it. I focus my eyes on the object that dropped to the ground and rolled away—it was a white sneaker. Turning just my head, I see my sister holding a throwing pose.
Apparently, she'd taken off her own left shoe and chucked it at me.
"What do you think you're doing?"
*What if you'd hit Mayu? Anii-chan is strict about that sort of thing, you know. ...Just kidding, though.*
"Why didn't you ask?"
My sister skips a whole round of conversational catch and jumps straight to the questions.
"'Ask what?' Or more accurately, *which* what?"
"'About what I've been up to, where I'm living, what I've been doing... stuff like that.'"
"Did you want me to ask?"
The second volley: her right shoe. This one missed, bouncing at my feet and rolling onto the road.
My sister plants both sock-clad feet firmly on the ground, glaring as if she could shoot me dead with her eyes.
"'The fact that you haven't contacted us means you didn't want us to know where you were, right? If that's the case, I couldn't exactly force the issue by asking and showing up.'"
She's clearly taken aback. Now that's a rare sight. She looks defenseless. She never showed that kind of expression, not even to her own mother. She was always too busy trying to be the good little girl, putting on an act to be liked.
Snapping out of her daze, my sister resumes scowling at me. Then she comes over to retrieve her discarded shoes. Acting without thinking—runs in the family, maybe?
"'Memorize what I'm about to say.' 'Hm?' She kicks me. 'Alright, I get it.'"
Slowing down slightly, my sister rattles off an address—'~ Town,' '~ Block,' that sort of thing. Readjusting Mayu securely on my back, I focus, and somehow manage to memorize it after hearing it twice.
"'That's my address.'"
"*Sigh*... Once I get back to the room, I'll write it down in a notepad."
"'I have questions for you, so make sure you visit. Weekday daytime is fine.'"
She snorts, another action whose intent I can't read. I try snorting back, hard enough to give myself a nosebleed.
"'After all this time with no word, you're being pretty damn selfish—' She kicks me. So I shut up."
People like her are called, uh... what was it again? Tungusic? Ah, whatever.
"'Got it. When I have some free time—' She stomps on my foot. 'Make time.' 'Yeah, yeah.' A knee digs into my side."
As I double over coughing, my unfazed sister steps back. Taking the chance, I observe her properly.
Long, unruly hair, shot through with strands of white like silver threads. Eyes so sharply angled they look less upturned and more like canyons. Short stature, a low nose bridge, a flat chest. Somehow, it feels like it'd be harder to find what *has* changed about her since back then. Like 'Where's Waldo?' level difficulty.
"'Right then,' I mutter."
In response to her older brother's thoughtful gaze, my sister spits out, "Pervert." What sort of misunderstanding is this, I wonder?
After a beat, I turn back towards home. "Farewell!" I say, trying for a more casual tone this time, ignoring the seriousness of the second parting. And my sister, too, starts walking in the direction Ichimiya and the others headed—the complete opposite way from me.
Right up until her back was swallowed by the darkness, my sister didn't look back.

Leaving behind only a single, ice-cold phrase.
"So you were alive, Anii-chan."

Now, just standing here, feeling the annoying stickiness of blood on my shoulder...
My feelings are such a jumble of joy and sorrow
that I feel like if an out-of-season bee were to sting me right now,
I could actually cry.

"...Not that he's here, though."
Which is why I ended up laughing.

---

"'Mii-kun, Mii-kun, Mii-kun!'"
Early in the morning, before the sun is fully up, I'm woken by Mayu shaking my shoulder and chanting, 'Mii-kun Mii-kun Mii-kun Mii-kun Mii-kun!' like some kind of 'Mikyuruu-Mii-kun-Mii-kyunkyun-Mii-kun-Mii-Mii-kun-Mii-kun-Mii-kun-Mikyurukyuru-Mii-kun!' mantra.
*Oh no, is this a continuation of yesterday?* I think, pulling my shaken brain together and putting on a serious expression. But Mayu's expression is her usual, purely happy smile, just with a bandage stuck clumsily on her forehead. Is her face looking a little flushed, maybe?
As if to confirm my suspicion, Mayu announces:
"Maa-chan caught a cold!"
"...Wooow." *Don't sound so happy about it. Don't raise your hands like that, don't clap.*
"Look, look, a thermometer!" As Mayu holds it out, her pajama top slips, exposing her shoulder. *Mm, kinda hot*—not the time to be thinking that. While pondering the odd fact that we even owned a thermometer, I check the digital numbers displayed on the LCD.
"'See? It's 40 degrees, right?' 'What are you doing sitting up? Lie down!' 'Mgyu!'"
I make her lie down without giving her a chance to argue, pushing her down into the futon and onto the pillow. Mayu pouts, "You're rough~," but she can't completely hide the joy seeping through.
"'This means I get tomorrow off, and the day after, and I can be with Mii-kun, yesss!'"
"...Right. Are you feeling okay, though? Not too rough?"
"'Uh-huh, not at all... Nya! No, wait, it's super painful, honest!'"
*Ahem, cough cough*—such terrible acting. Plus, her legs are kicking energetically. She's so full of beans it's painful to watch.
"'Maa-chan wants an ice pillow.'"
"'Okay. I'll go get it.'"
"'Hey, make me some rice porridge and feed me.'"
"'Alright. Can't guarantee how it'll taste, though.'"
"'Also, read me a picture book, and wipe me down, and—' 'Whoa, hold on. One thing at a time.'"
Her pampered-child mode is accelerating as she fires off demands. I cut her off. I decide to ignore her subsequent accusation of *me* being "selfish~". First, the ice pillow. Do we even have one?
Still pondering this, I take a step away from the bed, only to turn back at her call, "Mii-kun?"
Lying down, only her eyes are operating at full capacity, fixed squarely on me.
"'Hey, yesterday? I dreamed of Mii-kun. Maybe that's why?'"
"'Nyaruhodo. In that case, try *not* to dream about him anymore.'"
"'Why would you say that~?' Mayu sulks, puffing out her cheeks as I leave the bedroom. Shrinking from the chill in the hallway, I head towards the kitchen—a place I rarely use.
"'She'll definitely refuse to go to the hospital...' I mutter."
For her, the only point of catching a cold is strengthening her gravitational pull towards Mii-kun.

Still, I'm relieved that she doesn't seem to be dwelling on her behavior last night at all. Mentally, she seems fine.
"How should I put it... she's pretty extreme, isn't she?"
It's a bit late to be realizing that, I guess. But maybe that's just who Mayu is.
This is the place I chose for myself. I have to make enough effort not to lose it.
Guess I'll have to hold Mayu's hand even while she sleeps today.
The story of the hand-holding kidnapper, I suppose.
The fact that it seems vaguely happy makes it all the more ironic.

It took five days for Mayu's fever to break.
During that time, she obviously didn't go to school. I had to persuade the patient who fumed, "'If I take medicine, I'll get better too quickly!'", fend off my aunt's roundabout attempts over the phone to persuade me to come home, order various supplies, and—after I fell asleep while looking after her—wake up to find Mayu had poked holes in the tips of both our pinkies with a mechanical pencil and connected them with thread, declaring, "'There, perfect! Forever love!'". The thread was initially white, but stained by both our blood, it became, strangely enough, red. Thanks to *that*, her fever dropped to thirty-six degrees, leaving her with only a slight sore throat and sniffles. Although Mayu looked disappointed, she started getting out of bed and moving around again. However, she was practically dancing with joy about having lost weight—an effect of sweating so much, perhaps. Maybe now I can finally get her to cut back on the night walks.

Two days later. Exactly one week after she'd started skipping school.
After we'd shopped together at the supermarket, Mayu started making chocolate—for next year, apparently—and kicked me out of the room (the production site is top secret, dictated by 'a maiden's heart,' she says). So, I was out running errands, partly just to kill time. The red thread connecting our pinkies lost its structural integrity in front of the supermarket meat counter and snapped on its own. Though there's a high chance it'll get retied once I get home.

It's late February, but the daytime sun is strong. Being a weekday, the roads and sidewalks are quiet, yet the pachinko parlor's parking lot is packed. Since I'm just a kid, all I could think was, 'Adults sure are mysterious.' End report.
Seeing no cars, I cross the road against the red light. Ahead is a small, kiosk-like Japanese sweets shop connected to a paid parking lot. I walk along beside them, heading left. After about five minutes, I turn right at the corner just before a drugstore, heading in a direction where the color of bare earth becomes prominent. Towards an area where the countryside lies exposed, a cluster of houses that could be called the old part of town. Ironically, this pastoral-looking place is technically classified as being on the edge of the 'City,' while the area I'm in now, with its thin veneer of 'civilization,' is designated as 'Town.' Go figure.
I trudge along. *Teku, teku.* As I walk, a bicycle overtakes me. I watch a whistling housewife on her *mamachari* pull ahead by several lengths. Speaking of which, I wonder if that bicycle at my uncle's place has rusted yet.

After passing about a dozen fields, I stop at an intersection with a cram school that used to be a bakery. Standing under a street sign, I pull a map from my bag, unfold it, and compare it to the address in my notepad.
I was now trying to find my sister's place.
"'Okay, the coffee shop is here... so the batting cages are... here...'"
There's a run-down batting center nearby, burdened by an unfortunate local legend: any couple who swings a bat there will break up within a month. The alleged experiences of a Ms. N and Mr. A from a certain high school lend credence to the tale. Well, that part's kind of a lie, though.
"'Alright, I'll just rely on my sense of direction from here.'"
I fold the map and put it away with the note, then start walking again.
...And then I got lost, wandered aimlessly, looked up at the sky in despair, and took a break at the coffee shop.
After spending over an hour searching, I finally locate the right house.
If I'd just gone straight from where I stopped earlier without getting lost, it wouldn't have even taken ten minutes.
"'...Should I be feeling more nervous about this?'"
I ponder, looking up at the building.

The house stood next to a nursery school.
Even for the countryside, it was a remarkably old-fashioned building. Out front, a smallish water wheel, coated in green algae, turned slowly, likely making a sound quite refreshing in the summertime. Surveying the whole structure, it looked like it could have been transplanted from Shirakawa-go—a traditional construction with no visible metal.
Also, the surname on the nameplate struck me with a sense of déjà vu. For some reason, my vision swam—*gunyari*—like I was dizzy from standing up too fast. I took a step back, and the feeling subsided as I took a breath. Ignoring it, I slid the door open noisily. Only after opening it fully did I realize it hadn't been locked.
"'Excuse me~!'"
Inside, seats lined a counter, and there was a sunken hearth—an *irori*—further back. It looked like a former pub was being used as a residence. Popular songs, the kind you often hear on TV, played from speakers mounted on the ceiling. Maybe they had a cable music service?
No one responded.
Thinking perhaps my voice had been drowned out by the music, I was about to call out again when, simultaneously, a resident emerged from behind a *noren* curtain, likely coming from the kitchen area.
"'And who might you be?'"
An elderly man greeted me—his back wasn't bent, and his hair was neither white nor balding. He wore sandals and a *samue* work jacket with a scale-like pattern. He wasn't particularly tan, either. He looked like the kind of grandpa who could have been shogi buddies with Watarai-san, back before Watarai became a criminal.
"'Nice to meet you. I'm, uh, well...' How should I introduce myself? *I'm her older brother.* No, no, I don't want him to think I'm crazy."
However, I'm hesitant to actually say my sister's name. Why did the mother who lived in *that* house—*our* house—feel the need to... well, never mind. My sister's name at least has some flair, but mine is utterly plain. Since Mom never neglected her own appearance, I wish she hadn't skimped on the ornamentation when it came to naming me—a past memory of making that exact complaint at her grave years ago suddenly surfaces from the depths of my hippocampus, threatening to overwhelm the present moment. As I fight it off, I realize I'd almost completely tuned out the old man standing right in front of me, burying his existence in the tomb of consciousness—that is, unconsciousness. I shake my head to clear it.

Judging by his intense gaze, I'm clearly being pegged as a suspicious character. Time to make a move to clear my name.
"'There's a girl here, about middle-school age, right? I'm her older brother.'"
I introduced myself without using proper nouns, trying my best to 'deodorize' the suspiciousness.
For a moment, the old man's eyes narrow sharply, wariness flaring. But then, something about my existence seems to snag in a corner of his mind, and he looks flustered.
"'From the house... Iruka married into...?'"
Suspicion and astonishment flicker in the old man's eyes. Iruka. Dolphin. My sister's mother's name. A name she herself hated—she'd get genuinely angry if you called her that.
...So that's it. This was her parents' home. The home of the woman who, when her daughter reported getting a cavity, told her to 'just stay warm and sleep it off.' No wonder the nameplate looked familiar. When I was first introduced to her family, she wasn't married to Dad yet.
"'From... the incident?' the old man asks, indirectly confirming my identity."
"'Yes,' I reply curtly."
"'Ah, I see,' the old man mutters restlessly, placing a hand on his hip. His gaze darkens, drifting towards the floor. 'Ah... Right. A few days ago, the girl did mention... Said if someone came asking for her, I should let them through.'"
But the old man's tone as he says this is bitter, tinged with hostility.
"'How did you find out about this place? And about her?'"
His tone is practically an interrogation. Does this grandfather intend to treat me like some kind of pest?
"'Ah, my sister herself told me.'"
I refrain from spouting some delusion about being 'guided by sibling bonds.' I can't come all this way only to hint I'm some kind of nutjob and get denied entry. My hour and a half would be wasted.
"'Herself... Hmm. Ah, maybe because she's been going out lately.'"
The old man mutters, turning away as if complaining to himself. Apparently, my sister has been diligently pursuing a self-directed education in the art of being a full-fledged *hikikomori* since childhood. That makes sense, actually. If her hobby was taking late-night walks in a town this small, there's no way we wouldn't have crossed paths before now.
"'You haven't told anyone else about this, have you?'"
I give a slight nod in response.
"'Still, I'm surprised you decided to come see her.'"
His head snaps back towards me, his gaze fixed, radiating a faint hostility. What is it? Does he see me as something unclean?
"'Because my sister invited me,' I reply, choosing to interpret our exchange from last week rather generously."
The old man gives a small snort in response. That's my sister's habit, actually.
"'What exactly is your business here?'"
"'I was just invited by my sister, so—' 'No! What are your intentions...?'"
The old man starts to say something more, but seems to restrain himself, scratching the side of his face. Then, as if cutting off any further involvement, he tosses out a final sentence,
"'She's in the house out back.'"
The old man doesn't smile; if anything, knowing who I am seems to make his attitude even colder. Feeling a sense of unease, I give a slight bow and head back outside.
Still... that old man. He's basically living with a dead person, isn't he? Letting my sister stay 'dead' like this.

Going around the left side of the main building, I find about three more houses of similar size lined up behind it. They're long and narrow, but the property is quite large. Okay, so which 'house out back' did he mean?
Taking the old man's word 'back' as destiny's call, I decide to try the furthest house. It's Western-style and looks strangely new. This house is unlocked too—enter freely! Wondering briefly if I should be paying an admission fee, I decide to intrude anyway. This isn't non-fiction, after all.
I step up from the entryway into the hall and knock twice on the door of a nearby room. There's an immediate response from inside.
"'Grandpa? Is that lunch?'"
"'Nope, afraid it's just Anii-chan, here to disappoint on both counts.'"
The moment I say that, there's a sound from inside like the judo club practicing their breakfalls. Are they holding a training camp in there?
"'I'm fi—*Nga!*' Something slams into the door from the inside with full force."
Honestly, doesn't she ever learn? I almost started hating myself there.
"You're late!"
No time to dramatically hold my bloody hand up to the sunlight this time, I guess. My sister is pressing a hand to her side(?), simultaneously managing a grimace of pain and a glare of anger. Seems she wasn't quite as eager for my visit as Maa-chan usually is.
"'You say 'late,' but you seemed pretty surprised to have a visitor.'"
Besides, there's a chair lying flat on its back in the middle of the room. Looks like you had your feet up on the desk and lost your balance. *How lazy,* I fume inwardly, adopting a paternal viewpoint. No, wait—*she's* the one fuming.
"'You were so idiotically late, I was convinced you were a *real* idiot! I didn't think someone like you would actually show up now! That's why I *acted* surprised!'"
It's completely incoherent, but I don't dislike the kind of Japanese that forces me to agree, 'You're absolutely right.'
And my sister's appearance—gesticulating wildly, her ears and nose flushed bright red—isn't without its charms, I suppose.
"'First of all, you dimwit—' 'Ah, hold on a second.'"
I grab my sister's wrist as she raises her hand. Thankfully, she happens to have her mouth open.
I stick my fingers into her open mouth. To get a direct look at her molars.
"'Nga— Wha— Wha!'"
My sister lets out a strangled shriek, but I continue my 'examination.'
"'Just as I thought. A cavity. Still slacking off on brushing your teeth, I see?'"
Pinning her tongue down with one finger, I survey her teeth. Her alignment isn't bad, though. Saliva production seems pretty healthy, too; her tongue is quite slick. Doesn't feel too bad, actually.
As I'm messing around, thoroughly enjoying playing dentist with my sister, I notice that her face is beet-red and she's trembling uncontrollably. Her shoulders are bunched up so tight it looks like horns might sprout, and her fists are fully clenched and ready.

[ 124 ...... ]
"'I doubt it, but... are you perhaps angry about something?'"
"'Perffvert!'"
She manages to curse, lisping furiously, before biting down hard on my finger.
"'Owww!' The moment I pull back, my sister's elbow digs into my stomach. She follows up with a leg sweep, sending me sprawling ungracefully in the hallway. I scramble desperately back into a sitting position against the wall, only for the sole of a foot to fly at me. *Smack* against my face."
"'You...! Per...! Vert...! Bastard!'"
And then she just starts stomping on me. A relentless barrage of heel and toe, making 'Mach Speed Stompy-Stomp' look tame. Just because she's wearing a skirt doesn't mean I have the luxury of ogling her underwear.
"'Pervert! Die! Pervert! Die! Pervert! Pervert! Pervert Pervert Pervert!'"
Her resentment towards me seems to have settled on the 'pervert' angle—a matter of dignity, I suppose. Should I be relieved she stopped demanding I die? Because honestly, that last toe kick she twisted into the soft spot on my side feels pretty damn fatal.
"'Stop stomping, stop stomping! At ease!' 'Shut up!'"
My dear sister, now fully embracing her inner delinquent. Her footwork seems to be hitting peak condition, getting better with every kick.
Hey, can someone bring me a PE teacher's whistle? Ah, but wait, she probably doesn't even go to school, does she? Leading the kind of life where she spends weekday afternoons kicking her brother around. What a way to live.
"'You damn shut-in!' *Not that I'm one to talk!* 'Stop trying to turn this around on me when you're the one being weird!'"
An uppercut kick to the jaw sends sparks flying behind my eyes. Is it because of the impact that my sister's light pink underwear suddenly looks ultra-shocking-pink? Seems like a serious injury.
After that, my sister's legs continued operating at full capacity until she finally exhausted herself and collapsed onto her butt in the hallway.

My whole body feels hot, enough to make me worry *I'm* the one coming down with a fever now.
My sister is panting, shoulders heaving, drenched in sweat unsuitable for winter. There's not a speck of allure about her, so Anii-chan is a little relieved—no unwanted pests will be bothering her anytime soon. ...Yikes, just kidding.
Her breathing is ragged, yet she never stops glaring at me, her eyes filled with resentment.
Glad to see you're doing okay? Maybe I should retract the 'okay' part.
"'Hey, uh, are you bleeding at all?' 'You mean I haven't drawn blood *yet*?!'"
Wrong thing to say. Next came the sole of her left foot. Ah, agony...
"'Anii-chan has become Pervert Ant.'"

My sister grumbles this as she sits straddling her chair backwards. Huh, I just realized 'hentai' (pervert) and 'guntai ari' (army ant) only differ by one syllable. Not that it matters.
"'You didn't used to be a pervert who did stuff like that...'"
"'That's what becoming an adult does to you.'"
My deadpan statement earns a sharp retort from my sister, "As if!" Her quick comebacks are strangely satisfying. Although, if she spent more time with the lovely ladies of this town, she might be forced to revise that opinion.
Having finally been granted entry, I step into my sister's room. Of the five senses, four seem to be in good working order here. Mind you, 'touch' involved a thrown *zabuton* cushion, and 'taste' was self-serve well water. 'Hearing' is currently dominated by my sister's teeth grinding, and as for 'sight'... well, it's fine as long as I narrow my field of vision a bit.