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Maybe it's because Fushimi and I saw each other, at least in passing, during our childhood. Though I'm not sure if either of us remembers. Fushimi doesn't seem too bothered by my sister either, so let's leave that aside for now.

The problem is Yuzuyuzu & Gasegase. They're staring at each other, so there's absolutely no honest conversation happening; their lips are sealed shut. Do these two know each other? At the very least, there's not a chance in ten thousand they're friends. If you could insist they *were* friends despite this, I'd probably have made about a hundred million friends I don't even know the faces of by now.

......Guess it can't be helped. Let's drop 'Gasegase' and go with 'Naganaga'. But that's a lie.

No, that's not it. I should take charge and MC here. Though I'd rather be an outsider if allowed.

"Uh, this is Nagase Toru-san. She's my......" How should I explain this? Calling her a 'friend' sounds incredibly fake. Well, it *is* a lie. But introducing her as my ex-girlfriend felt like it would somehow shorten my lifespan.

"I know her."

Whoa... My attempt to read the room was pointless!
Hmph, for Fushimi-san, my source of healing, her attitude is pretty stiff. Actually, it's scary. Her voice is lower and more destructive than usual. Is she practicing her ultrasonic waves to become a dolphin?

"Uh, and this is Fushimi Yuyu-san. She's the president of the club I'm in."

"I don't know her." This one's scary too. Wait, what happened to Nagase-ssu? A typo?

Ah well, since I've started, I have nothing but the future ahead of me. Devour the past and grow fat, self!

"And this is my li-ttle sis-ter."

As I patted my sister's head—*pofu pofu*—a rather rare family introduction. Instantly, my sister spun around and hit my shoulder with a half-formed fist. Considering she didn't aim for my poultice-covered face, my sister's being gentle today.

"Don't you 'this' me, you worker ant."

"Ah, sorry, sorry. Hmm... She is my little 'theater'." I got punched squarely in the jaw. Why? It should have been perfect first-year junior high English (first semester, even). I properly changed the word from 'imouto' -> 'little sister,' and even constructed a simple English sentence suitable for her age! .........So why is *this* a lie?! Seriously, if I put in 300% effort, I could pass Eiken Grade Pre-2.

But my sister is light. Her body seems composed not of protein, but maybe egg whites or something, she's that nimble. Yesterday, Sakashita Koibi-sensei, wearing glasses, came to visit, declaring things like "My first time out in four months!", words that pained my heart, not my ears, and left a fruit get-well set. My sister feels about that heavy, so even having her use my lap as a chair isn't a bother. If it were XX, then [rest omitted]. Let's refrain from comments that might drain my already dwindling blood supply down to the border of life and death.

"Huh? Wait, To-, ru-, you have siblings-ssu? 'Nimouto' means little sister, right-ssu? Probably."

Nagase's eyes, right nearby, widen at this new information. And her speech is a bit broken and painful to hear. I almost advised her, 'Let's just interact as awkward friends, with that faint stiffness peculiar to couples who broke up without making a scene,' but then I reconsidered that maybe this is the most natural state for Nagase and me. I'm probably the weird one for acting totally natural without considering any guilt or inferiority complex.

Man, it's tough being a guy who's equal towards everything. 'Your lies are getting a bit much, sir,' is what my conscience would scold me if I had one.

*I* *know* "her."

Yuzuyuzu instantly takes a step ahead of the hesitating Nagase! ...Uh, ahead in what?

"Sister." "San." "Long time no see."

While erasing something in her notebook, Fushimi offers a gesture of friendship to my sister. My sister's expression shows genuine surprise at Fushimi's unique, husky (like a 31-year-old married woman's) voice that sounds dried out. Nagase next to her is also taken aback. Having learned cooperativeness, I decided it would maintain harmony if I also acted totally shocked. But that's a lie.

"See? You lived next door, right?" I offer a lifeline to my slow-reacting sister. "I remember even if you don't tell me." The rescue boat was sunk and followed the old woman who was turned into tanuki soup.

Nagase glances at Fushimi's strained expression, then speaks up with strange cheerfulness.

"Oh, ahh, so that 'worker ant' from before... was about Imouto-chan-ssu? First time... is this it-ssu? I heard about her during 'that' date-ssu!"

Nagase pushes forward strongly, refusing to lose! Lose what, though?

...... The silence from Fushimi-san, currently staring intently. Slightly test-of-courage-esque.

Did something sprout between Nagase and Fushimi? The gazes that were like kite strings just moments ago now seem like fuses. What are these girls competing over? Are you two close enough to fight?

Hmm... If I admit it, I risk being branded a 'self-conscious weirdo,' so I have to be cautious, but situationally, they're probably fighting over something related to me. Ruling out inheritance, what's left is... I won't give up Mayu. Uh, what else... I don't need any tips on guaranteed-profit futures trading. Just kidding. These two, see, they're bad liars. Other acquaintances of mine... just Sensei, I guess.

And Fushimi is the type who can live without lying, while Nagase is the type who has to keep burying the truth. I hope she has a life where she isn't always lying, so she doesn't get buried in the dirt she dug herself.

Well, I broke up with Nagase, and I have no connection to Fushimi, neither separation nor attachment. What they want from me now is a complete mystery. I either elegantly missed all the foreshadowing or just forgot it.

This is starting to feel like a mystery novel! Mainly with the premonition of replenished bloodshed.

"Oh, uhm, ah, a tangerine. Were you eating a tangerine-ssu?"

Nagase discovers the peel blooming like a single flower on the sideboard and changes the subject.

"Yeah, I was having a little." Tastes more varied than hospital food.

"Then, uh, want something else to eat-ssu? Oh, want me to peel an apple or something?"
"No."
The instant Nagase started to get up from her chair, I reflexively created the wrong form of refusal.

I meant to stop her, but my true feelings slipped out. Is there any way to turn this into a lie? My skills for navigating the secular world have dulled from this long hospitalization. Guess I need rehab for this too.

"N-No-ssu? Oh, r-right-ssu. Toru, well, after all, I..."
"No, no, ah, I mean," You love red too much, so I think your lovely dedication to dyeing even the peeled apple red is wonderful, but food isn't just about looking beautiful, it's also about practicality—or rather, you're clumsy, so let's not. They don't have Band-Aids ready today. Please understand the above.

In my current state, I might end up sucking blood from Nagase's wound. No, that's a lie. I don't need that kind of blood transfusion; I can just make effective use of being in a hospital. Well, I have done it to someone else though.

*Ah.* *Then.* *Then.* *I'll.* *Then.* *Do it.*

Fushimi's actions play back at 1.5 times normal speed. Tripping over her feet, she stands up, dragging her chair noisily—*GATAGATA*—and grabs the basket holding the fruit as if stumbling forward. She grips the handle of the fruit knife suspiciously and furtively, while gripping the apple in her other hand so hard she looks ready to crush it into a zero-percent juice fruit, digging her nails in. Her left hand looked like it would do far more than just 'support' it.

She hurriedly sits back down, leaning forward sharply—*Guh*. She looks like a reluctant assassin putting a blade to a baby's neck with desperate resolve. If she doesn't harbor murderous intent or melancholy towards this apple, her expression is a fraud. Maybe she failed an apple diet in the past, or holds some similar personal grudge? *Guri guri*, the blade gouges into the apple. Wait, maybe this isn't peeling? She's seriously shaving off the flesh. What is this, is she trying to extract only the absolute most delicious part of the single apple to treat me, putting on some kind of cooking manga-esque flourish? Nah, impossible. It looks more like bold carving.

And then, I was confronted with the finished product.
The foodstuff had developed anorexia. Like a doctor not taking care of himself, maybe.
Hmm, *this* is a true apple (physical) diet. Shall I put it on an IV drip?

*Here.* *Prettily.* *Peeled.*

Just now, did her fingertip only emphasize the 'pretty' in her notebook? And what does 'pretty' even mean?

I almost got tossed about by the aesthetic sense of a Heisei-era high school girl. Youth culture is difficult. Do I really need to start reading youth magazines with foreign words splashed across the cover? I read things like *Orange Page* when I go back to my aunt's house. And the *Sakura City Newsletter*. No good.

With a beaming smile, Department Head Fushimi presents the plate holding the apple's remains—er, I mean, the malnourished Appo-kun. Her expression is utterly satisfied, as if boasting of a master craftsman's work. Nagase winces slightly behind her. Well, the moment Fushimi didn't prove the knife's sharpness with both hands, the match was decided.

Yuzuyuzu suddenly widens the gap between her and Nagase here... Or rather, I feel like I did back in elementary school when we went on a field trip to Kobeni Crossing and watched a dog doggy-paddling alongside the boat. A subtly disheartening atmosphere.

I pick up a fragment of apple with my fingers and try chewing it. The skin is crispy. Enjoyable like a snack stick.

"Is it good?"
"Well, it's not in season, so......"
"......"
"...But my eyes widened at the cultivation techniques that can make it delicious anyway. The power of science is amaaaazing!"

And Fushimi's teary eyes immediately retreated. Hee hee hee, I can read the flow of the atmosphere from her eye movements—
"Clumsy."
Suddenly, the tiny thing on my lap created a vacuum in human relations.

My sullen-faced sister, without even giving Fushimi time to feel down, snatches the knife and thrusts it once into her chest, yelling "Die!" ...Well, it wouldn't feel out of place if she did... but setting that aside for now, she took the remaining apple. Then, putting the knife to it, she smoothly demonstrates peeling it in one continuous strip, effortlessly. As expected of Imouto; cutting and crushing are her specialties.

Being unable to read the mood and blow a cool breeze into the human dynamics, like the positions of Fushimi and Nagase, is also wonderfully like my blood relative. I mean, this one hasn't learned much about group living. Her basics of communication are punch, punch, kick. Also, *thud thud* and *stab stab*. She doesn't need kanji. She's my boast-worthy sister who's become quite global, that's a lie-desu.

While I can only remain silent regarding the foodstuffs she handles, my sister, known for her technique, easily strips the apple bare and smartly cuts it into four pieces with satisfying crunches. I vaguely imagined that Mr. Tsurusato, the start of the incident Yuna mentioned, might have had his body dismembered like this too.

She stands the remaining apple core up in the center and hands me the plate dismissively, "Here." Imouto Apple, garnished with Fushimi's Apple Chips, is complete. Ingredients listed: Only apple.

"Thanks," I say, mindful of the gazes from the pipe-chair group, and reach for the apple, only to get whacked—*GASHI, BOKA*—with the knife handle. Then, *choi choi*, my sister points to her own lips with the tip of the knife. Hey, that's dangerous. Point it the other way. Though I don't like that either.

"Are you stupid? Big Bro feeds *me*."
"Oh, is that it? Yes, yes."

I capture the specially born single rabbit apple without having to go all the way to that mountain, and let my sister munch on it. My sister glares at Fushimi and Nagase for some reason, but obediently stuffs her cheeks with apple. During this time, there was no violence towards me. My sister's really grown up. Maybe she just got bored because my reactions to being hit are dull.

Regarding cooking skills, it seems to be Sister >>> Fushimi > Nagase. Incidentally, as an aside, a certain sensei said, "Never held a kitchen knife, never cleaned, not even working right now, but I eat meals and take baths as much as I want." In a way, she's at the summit. Though she just stands there arbitrarily, without climbing anywhere. Please beware of oxygen deprivation caused by the surrounding atmosphere retreating.

This doesn't matter, but I'll add that yesterday, a very heartwarming conversation took place: "Ah, Nii-hi-sensei." "What word did you just attach my name to, eh? Hey!" And, "As a substitute trophy for the You Did Something Dangerous Again This Time Award, you've been broken up with again."

This is proof of friendship from Koibi-sensei, signifying 'May our relationship be such that we can build a fresh one each time we meet'—or so I fabricated just now.

I place my thumb on my sister's cheek and turn her face slightly towards me. And then stare intently—*jiii*.

"Wha' ish ih, cweepy." Her face is sullen as she moves the apple around inside her cheek—*mogomogo*.

"No, just thinking you have a pretty face."

She had her face thoroughly stomped on by Mayu, so I was a little worried if any scars remained. When I last parted with my sister, her face was covered in blood, so swollen I wanted to say something like, "Go back to your country... Oh wait, you have family too—that's me." I had to kick her out of the room quickly because Mayu might have started saying, "Whoops, guess I gotta make sure she dies."

And then, my sister rushes to the opposite extreme of my calm state of mind. "Wha-wha-wha!" she chokes on the apple, eyes rolling back and forth. "Nananananana!"
"I-Impure-ssu!"
And why are *you two* reacting?

Everyone seems to be suffering quite a bit from derangement or confusion. As her older brother, I must shoulder my sister's share here. The other two are more adult than my sister (so I won't dare mention where), so I'll have them resolve it themselves.

My sister, when you hug her, she squeaks—"Kyuu!" That was *me* squeaking after getting elbowed in the stomach. By hugging her, the target of her agitation became clearly fixed on me, and my sister's confusion purified into anger. "Let go, let go of me, you pervert!" My sister continues to resist, thrashing like a dog that hates getting its fur cut.

Then why didn't you just sit in Seat A, the pipe chair, instead of the unreserved seat on my lap in the first place? Why did you come here and settle down here first? My sister is such a clingy kid. Well, if it were her mother, I could understand that, but...

"U-U-Uhm!"

"Yes?"
"Ex-ex-excush me-ssu!" You don't need to force yourself to use 'that kind of language' when you're not even in an athletics club. No, wait, Nagase-san *is* the number four batter on the table tennis team. But that's a lie.

Somehow Fushimi clambered—*yojiyoji*—onto the bed. Her hands tremble slightly, maybe from muscle soreness or nervousness. She even deliberately took off her shoes, sat next to me girl-style, and turned her face into an apple.

If I cut that face into bite-sized pieces right now, surely bright red blood would... No, it'd obviously gush out anytime.

"Ah, ah, aaah-n."

This young lady seems to have started playing 'baby bird.' Eyes closed, mouth opening and closing—*paku paku*.

My sister's and my gazes fix intently on the scene. Though the thoughts passing through our minds are probably different.

"I ca-came to visit too, so..." She explained her motive while keeping her eyes closed.

The way her eyebrows (?) are trembling is indescribable. Because there are no words to describe it.

"............*Haaaah*." The coordinates of this point are too far from my range of perception; I can't connect them with a line.

Ah well, it's not like anything diminishes. Except the apple and my lifespan. Hopefully that's a lie. I picked up what looked like a bamboo-leaf cut of apple with my fingers, and as I brought it close to Fushimi's mouth, "Here you go," what Special Correspondent (Me) saw was—!

My sister, intervening—in the most literal sense—from the side. She gobbled up my fingers almost to the base—*pakuh*—gnawed on them for a bit—*gajigaji*—then snatched away only the apple. "Tastes bad." Then don't eat it. Your words and actions have been contradictory from the start, Imouto. It's like looking at my junior high self; I'm worried about your future and feel like making a home visit or something. But that's a lie.

Even now, I constantly get bad reviews submitted for my inconsistent words and actions. No signs of improvement either.

Meanwhile, Yuzuyuzu, whose upper and lower teeth are still clicking—*kachin kachin*—as they bite the air, her eyes still trembling—*furu furu*. The blush on her cheeks has deepened, making me want to cup them with both hands and knead them—*kone kone*. Well, I *did* it.

"Hoeh?!" A surprise attack not inside the mouth, but outside! And so, Fushimi's eyes, snapping open—*pachi!*—spin as if accumulating centrifugal force. I too stir her cheek flesh with my palm—*gune gune*—eager to carve out a step like a moonwalk in my ecological survey of Yuzuyuzu. But I knead gently. But that's a lie.

"Awawahahahahawawa!" Fushimi is extremely agitated, like someone enjoying a roller coaster with only their neck fixed. Her eyes are mostly white, and she looks about to foam at the mouth, yet she's the exact opposite of deathly pale. She's so red she looks like she might erupt a meteor shower of chili peppers from her ears, nose, and eyes. She radiates a unique coloring that might excite certain slightly unhinged artists into saying, "This red! If only I had this!"

It seems the side entertainment is being enjoyed. My sister's heel drops, which had ceased for a time, seem to have ended their break and resumed work. "Hurry up with the apple, stupid ant!" she urges, tapping the plate. Hey, if your hands are free, why demand a relay play? You've acquired too much aristocratic spirit.

Did her long shut-in life make my sister forget the concept of 'within her own reach'? Or is she unsatisfied unless my fingerprints are on it? But that's a lie... right?

And with Fushimi getting on the bed, she naturally (if intentional, what a frightening child!) put up a screen, blocking my view of Nagase's current state. I wonder what kind of tear-streaked face she's making now.

When Toru-chan and I are alone, she's quite the crybaby, or rather... "Toruuu, something really awful happened to me todayyy (legs flailing on the bed—*batabata*)... Toruuu, we couldn't talk for two whole hours at school, riiight? It's humiliating-ssu, regrettable-ssu. So I got really huuurt. ...Aah, being petted by Toru's hand makes me feel like I'll turn into a kitty-ssu. I wouldn't mind becoming Toru's cat-ssu, like this, purring on your lap—*gorogoro*—" Cut!

Well, in the first place, when a couple who broke up face each other, and one has an expression like they're dragging streamer scraps and whatnot behind them through life, what am I supposed to do? I want to shift the blame onto the world. ...But... But long ago, I used to like Nagase.

Just as she once liked Mii-kun.

Therefore, I had no choice but to aim to be an Eight-Faced Hypocrite. All for my own sake.

"Ahh, the right side's still free on this bed."

Precisely because I'm black-hearted, bleached, blatant lines leap recklessly outside. By the way, Fushimi's cheeks are still being tormented by me. "Hau hau," she groans, pressing her palms over my hands. Fushimi is warm all over. It's summertime, but I've managed to gather some precious warmth.

My skin and human relationships, which had dried out in the air-conditioned hospital room, remembered what it was like to be moisturized, just a little. However, once you remember abundance, you start seeking it greedily, so I endeavored to forget. Underestimate it not.

"There's room for about one more person!"

Surely the bed won't say, "Sorry, I'm exclusively for three people." No, I can sympathize with the elementary school-level desire to tease the current Nagase, but this is enough, right? Any more and the dormant volcano might run wild. Precisely because this reality lacks intervention from future world secret gadgets, human dynamism is—

Regarding the talent for eliminating extraneous things, I judge Nagase to be superior to my sister. Because she's clumsy and has tunnel vision. Even if her raised arm mows down something else before it swings down, she doesn't notice. It makes it easier to grasp happiness, so I don't think it's a form that should be categorically denied. I quite liked it... ...is that an aftereffect of the 'lovey-dovey couple correction,' working too strongly?

Incidentally, the "auu auu" Yuzuyuzu is out of the question. Splashing around—*pacha pacha*—at the water's edge, watching the sparks fly on the opposite shore, suits her best. Well, there's no sea nearby though! Thanks to that, river surfers don't emerge, which is a downside of the countryside, and also a fatal flaw in my imagining brain.

*"Come on."*

"But um, uhh, umm......" Nagase's fidgety lines mumble behind Fushimi.

How irritating. She's become completely withdrawn since that incident at the hospital.

"Nagase." I release Fushimi's cheeks. Fushimi goes limp down to her spine, swaying limply left and right—*funya funya*. "Yuyuyuyu yuyuyu, uuu uuu uuu," sounds like various wires are crossed, but well, that's probably temporary, so setting her aside, the obstruction between us is gone, so I look towards Nagase.

"Y-Yes!" A high-pitched voice that sounds like her favorability meter might stretch and shrink along with her spine. Her heart's muscle fibers are exposed.

I hold out my right hand, trying to imbue it with emotion... or so I intended. However, it's probably wiser not to say what I currently feel towards Nagase. Even I wish to live a life that doesn't hurt people too much, you know. Since that wish won't come true, it just settles as a goal.

Nagase timidly takes my hand and grips it tightly. Our fingers intertwine down to the base, and she pulls me towards her. Using those hands as a pivot point, Nagase looks up, puts her foot on the edge of the bed, and leaps. She lands on the opposite side of the bed, flying over Fushimi and us, making the bed creak. She always acts without thinking of the consequences. What would she have done if she'd landed right on top of me or my sister?

Everyone seems to be lacking a bit of awareness, but I *am* an injured person. Since there are no visible external injuries, I'm treated like I'm brand new, but inside, I'm thoroughly second-hand. Neither of my arms is functioning satisfactorily.

However, thanks to the cooperation of these three, we've constructed not a 'river' formation, but, if expressed in a single kanji, a formation like '坐' (Sit) on the bed. Since we're technically a party of four, we can go pick up crystal fragments or cross the sea by boat to steal treasure from Ogre Island. In that case, I nominate Yuzuyuzu for Momotaro. You can guess why. Then, the dog is me? Yeah, no objections there. The others are traveler Monkey-sister and Pheasant Nagase? The monkey looks like the main fighting force. The dog will be the shield, Momotaro's job is to carry millet dumplings to the monkey's mouth, and let's have the pheasant tremble—*gatagata*—in a corner of the island. Mainly against the wolf's furious rampage.

"There are lots of things I want to apologize for. But, I, Toru's... To Toru too..."

Nagase, close up again after a long time, tries to offer apologies or atonement, her throat trembling. "Miss, don't you have the wrong person?" I tried to think about wanting to say that, but couldn't.

"Ahh, it's fine. I'm the type who doesn't care about the past." But that's a lie.

How can someone who clings to the past to gain sustenance for living speak the truth?

Nagase again wraps my right hand tightly—*gyuu*—with both her hands, clutching it before her chest as if praying. My eyes almost went blurry from the Maiden Particles overflowing from her imploring upward glance.

"O-Oh."

*Giiiiigigigi*—my side flesh was grabbed, angered, nails dug in. Imouto's attack.
"O-Oh."

Furthermore, my cheek was pulled—*muniii*. ...Piggybacking on that, what are you doing, Fushimi-san?

Just moments ago, she was being tossed about by my Fushi-hara (skipping explanation of what that abbreviates), suffering symptoms like vinegar, but now her mouth is clamped shut in a 'へ' shape, blocking air expulsion, puffing out her cheeks. I wanted to retort, "If you have an opinion, state it in your notebook," but realistically, I foresaw trouble handling her response, so I evaded difficulty by meekly offering my cheek flesh as tribute.

Girls fully equipped to the front and both flanks.

It feels like we've finished stabbing the pirate in the barrel, yet are still continuing the Blackbeard Crisis game.
...But.

Unfortunately, the person I *want* to be stabbed by is already decided.

I want Nagase to be exasperated with me, Fushimi to heal me, and my sister to kick me.
No, actually, I'd rather pass on the last one if possible.

When this is safely over, it'll be time for an afternoon nap with that girl.

***

The storm of silence has finally passed. My heart is beating, and today too, I am alive, second by second.

To see the three off, I slipped out of my room without permission again, and this time truly learned the meaning of summer heat.

It's hard to believe more than half the schedule is already consumed; I can only take my hat off to the sun's sleepless, tireless stance. Because I pushed the three reluctant-to-leave girls out the door, I feel it even more keenly.