---

---

Is Mayuko's nose just for decoration, I wonder? Well, her looks themselves are quite ornamental, after all.

"This temporary lodging might be rent-free, but the living conditions seem guaranteed to be the absolute worst."

I crouched down, meeting his gaze. *I really don't want to touch this,* I thought honestly as I removed the gag.

"Hah... What the hell are you? What's your connection to that woman? And hurry up and save me already!"

The instant he unleashed his words, a mixed assault of questions and commands, spraying spittle and residue, came flying to overwhelm me. I hesitated, thinking it wasn't worth using my umbrella to block it, and ended up just taking a step back while still crouching. My legs and back are weak, so staying crouched like this is tough. Well, I suppose I'll stand up occasionally.

"Hey, hurry up! Answer me! Help me! What are you doing just spacing out, hey!"

That face, as miserable as someone who spilled a drop of soy sauce on a conspicuous spot on their clothes during a meal on a date with their unrequited crush, barked piercingly again today. Even though I thoroughly refused him two days ago. He strained against the hemp ropes—wristbands, not a collar—making them creak, his body repeatedly asserting itself, hurting his wrists pointlessly. I wonder if this counts as a spot of exercise to help him sleep soundly tonight.

Come to think of it, Jirou doesn't bark much, does he? With this unrelated thought, I dismissed his pleas.

"Now, now, calm down. I have absolutely no intention of helping you right now. It's hopeless for you tonight, too, no matter how you struggle. Don't expect anything unreasonable from me, please."

I rebuffed the angry demands of the younger boy. Honestly, asking for help from someone whose identity is unclear, and then trusting them when they say 'I'll help you,' is undoubtedly foolish. It hits a little too close to home, so I'll avoid elaborating further. No point reflecting on my own foolish childhood self.

"What the hell! Dammit, you idiot... I don't get it, it's so irritating, and I feel sick..."

Oh dear, he's hung his head and started crying. Was he spoiled growing up? He seems to be lacking in guts. What kind of finishing move does he intend to unleash with that? But if he doesn't mind being renamed something like "Enemy No. 2," then he can just stay the way he is.

"Hmm, this situation makes it look exactly like I'm the one bullying him, doesn't it?"

It's like when you're comforting a student crying in the hallway after being bullied, but then a teacher happens to walk by and misunderstands, thinking, "Were you bullying them?!" Isn't that infuriating? The crying kid should say something too, but instead, they just take the opportunity to appeal to the teacher with their tears that they're being bullied.

...Ah! I feel like something took me over for a moment there. And... I suppose it's not particularly wrong to say I *am* bullying Hisaya. Right then, to restore my honor... Boss, what should we do? *Build him up, then knock him down.* Roger that.

"I can't help you directly, but I can help relieve your stress a little. I'll answer any questions you like."

The tearful boy, his spirit unreasonably crushed, lifted his face and began to size me up. Eyes filled with confusion. An outer face like the peel of a tangerine. Skin dry from lack of moisture. I observed him right back.

"Seriously, what are you?" He'd calmed down, so "temee" got promoted to "anta."

"A thrill-seeker. I might be misusing the term, but that's the position that seems to suit me best right now."

Though if I take one wrong step, the roles of victim to the right and perpetrator to the left are lying in wait.

Hisaya didn't look convinced at all, but what on earth could I say to make him trust me more? You have to make someone trust you before you can deceive them, which is such a bother.

"If you have no questions, I'll leave. And I'll come back tomorrow just to laugh at you."

Ah, I forgot to mention, but I'm finding this quite amusing right now. It's a smile like konnyaku sliced thin with scissors and stretched out, but I imagine it conveys my amusement to those around me.

Perhaps finally resigned, Hisaya started lobbing questions my way in a subdued voice, speaking slowly.

"Have they started the game already? Or are they waiting for me?"

"Hee hee hee, they're still waiting for you. Oh my, you'd better hurry back to everyone, hadn't you?"

For a moment, his face started to brighten, so I readjusted. Only your angry face is lovely, you know.

............ Ah, I suppose I should add it. *That was a lie, though.*

"Then untie these ropes! What do you think you're doing, damn you?!" Reignited. Anger is this boy's driving force, isn't it?

"Like I said, I don't want to do anything. Not quite a plant, but, well—" "I swear I'll kill you!" "Oh my, what an impossible murder threat. Go right ahead, if you can. But before that, I think there's something you ought to know."

I reached for his neck, which looked like it hadn't seen the sun or much else in a while due to being stuck inside. When I prodded his carotid artery, he squirmed with a shiver. Ooh hoo hoo, I kind of want to tear it right off.

"You realize killing you right now would be easy for me, right?"

Maintaining a moderate level of fear is the key to making things last. That applies to life, and it applies to torture.

However, in the next instant... the reaction I'd expected didn't seem to register with him at all.
With the expression of a boy whose innocent pain had been removed, he gently brushed off my threat.

"Well, yeah, obviously."

"Eh? Yes, well... But is it just as obvious that you're going to die?"

The nail I tried to drive in just sank softly away.

"Huh? Well, yeah, I'll die, but that's it, right? It's not like anything happens after you die."

His blatant grimace seemed to say, *What is this person talking about?* Now *I'm* the one being treated like the weird foreigner.

............Hmm. My threat whiffed, and it's a little embarrassing. I sheepishly drew back my arm and convened an internal meeting.
*The centipede's tail certainly has unique values. Boss, what now?* *Exterminate him.* *It's a bit premature.* *Then, change location.* *Right you are, Boss.*

I quickly moved away. Sensing my movement, he started barking again. A powerless watchdog is just a nuisance, isn't it?
"Hey, I still have questions— No! Help me! Why won't you help me?! Seriously!" "The service period is over."

Having declared that, I firmly replaced the gag. It was sticky with saliva, and my honest feeling was that I really didn't want to touch it.

"Hey, one last thing! A question!" Like someone making a desperate guess at the last second of a quiz show.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" I replied, without stopping my hands.

"The right arm—is it okay—mfffgh?!" Work completed mid-sentence.

"Yes, it's being kept safe. You should probably come get it soon."

I'm getting quite used to this silencing work. It'll probably serve as sustenance for my future life—as practice for lying.
Then I stood up, looked down at him, and continued.

"For me, chasing after that girl from before is the main objective. Dealing with you to relieve your boredom is just a bonus. If the freebie is better than the main event, isn't that just like those snacks with cards where you only care about the card?"

There's no moment more despairing than when you realize your priorities are completely backward due to your own lack of planning. Though it happens to me all the time. Come to think of it, didn't 'That One' say something similar back at the mansion?

I stepped outside the warehouse, checked that the shutter wouldn't go lower than my neck, and then muttered, "What am I even doing?"

I'm just exasperated with my own personality and my occasional attempts to act like a good person.

That's why I try to kick a stone at my feet and end up missing spectacularly. "Whoa!" I hopped on one foot like a karakasa-obake to keep from falling, then started walking home as if nothing had happened.

I've known the solution itself from the beginning. It's just a question of who will carry it out.
And since there's no suitable candidate, I'm exploring other, more roundabout methods.

Eh? Is that really true? I inadvertently ended up doubting myself there.

*That was a lie, though—.*

Right, this time for sure.

---
**(The following section contains the translation of the subsequent text included in the prompt, picking up from Yuna's interaction with Kaneko-kun after leaving the warehouse, for context completion, even though it was outside the explicit request block.)**
---

"Here's the set of textbooks, and the reference books I used, too. They're a little heavy."
"Thank you for your consideration. Oh? They're not heavy at all."
"No, no, please don't carry my dog home like that."
"Oh my, isn't it unseemly for a boy to be carried like a princess?"
"No, that's not what I mean... That way you respond, it's exactly like him. Are you really not related...? No, but then he should know too... Ah— Anyway, bottom line, kidnapping is forbidden!"
"Absolutely correct. You're entirely right." I really wish *that* Mayuko would receive some guidance and discipline on the matter.

*Play breakfast. Eat egg very. Delicious paradise. Oh, my, picture, my beautiful? Eat, not, drink ice water. Gulp gulp. Look television, cohon-vee, vision, high quality. B-*
*Profagol* "This is hopeless." I executed a major outer reaping throw on the English textbook sitting on the table. A satisfying sound effect echoed up to the ceiling.
"Big Sis Yuna flopped onto the floor." Akane reported. (*Note: Yuna お兄ちゃん (Oniichan) used by Akane, but Yuna is female. Translating as "Big Sis Yuna" or similar, acknowledging the mismatch.*)
"...It seems my rationality loosened because my right and left brain were thinking about different things."
My judgment failed me, and I ended up entrusting full authority to the third party in the fissure of my brain. I even started hallucinating a futon made of cash bundles on the floor, that's how far gone I was. That was a lie, of course. At most, I enjoyed a vision of a television.
But even I am tongue-tied (a neologism born from tonguelessness and formlessness) by the difficulty of foreign loanwords.
As a result of following my parents' educational policy of "You can live however you like within this mansion," I became a seclusionist girl. This makes me unsuitable to serve as a home tutor for my younger sister, Ooe Akane.
Well, even someone with a healthier brain than mine would probably find themselves unable to let go of their headache medicine when dealing with her.
How did Mother and Father manage to smile while teaching a child for whom 1 - 2 = 3?
Once, I tried letting her handle the payment at the supermarket, and she instantly changed the atmosphere at the register to a nervous murmur, *'zawa, zawa...'*. We were narrowly saved from being taken to the underground facility (the back office).
"Whoa! Dust is getting on the food!" Akane waved her hands crisscross over the table. That just stirred up more dust, threatening to send it soaring into seventh heaven. It would be faster to evacuate the dishes.

I checked the junior high textbooks I received from Kaneko-kun to see if they were inappropriate for her ladyship's emotional education—an utterly unnecessary task, of course—but when I tried reading them, this was the result. A complete defeat.
"Humans are much higher-spec than I imagined."
It boils down to that single word of admiration. My Earth has completed its language unification, so the Roman alphabet written in this book is equivalent to alien language. The fact that most junior high students can decipher this is one of the unstated terrors of this town.
And I'm also impressed by the convenience and handiness of subjectivity. From my perspective, I treat Akane as a slightly dim-witted child, but in reality, she overwhelmingly triumphs when it comes to academic ability.
Which means, in the eyes of the world, *I'm* the overwhelmingly dim-witted one. I feel like this isn't the time to be putting on airs holding a parasol. In fact, it turns out *I* was the one who should have been learning from *her*.
Should I prostrate myself, or should I sling my school backpack on again? Hmm, the latter... brings back bitter memories. Because the first day I went to school wearing that thing, I was treated almost like a transfer student. Well, naturally, if I suddenly appeared in a classroom as an unfamiliar child on such a halfway date and grade level, and my classmates tried to treat me like a friend, I'd clutch my wallet strings thinking, *'I won't be fooled! The city is a scary place!'* That concludes a memoir that was forty percent lies and sixty percent past events.

Right then, let's make reality my plaything again and treat my eyes to something.
The weather forecast said today would be cloudy with occasional rain. My mood dropped, expecting it to be humid. That's the spirit of summer – if there's no sunshine, it tries to conjure up heat regardless. It's wonderful how it goes its own way with temperatures that show no regard for living creatures; well, I don't dislike it. It's the season for yukata, after all.
If I wear a yukata in winter, I feel like slathering my body with chili peppers instead of putting them in food.
"Hey, hey, Big Sis."
"Hmm?"
*I've obtained the long-sought-after little sister character!* Though I didn't ask for it.
I'm a young lady, neither an adult nor a child.
"I kinda wanna go play somewhere."
Akane kept glancing at my left eye as she made her request. For some reason, she brought her chair next to mine today and is munching on her food. Did her rebellious phase end early?
"Play... Hmm, where?"
"Um, anywhere's fine, but... Boku has been sooo busy lately."
Basically, she's bored and wants me to take her somewhere. I'm not your mom, though... If the difference between adults and children is intellect and knowledge, then the framework of me being Akane's guardian is just papier-mâché. If you peek from the side, people would probably feel contempt at the lack of substance inside.
Besides, I don't have the leeway to be creating games right now. This whole lifestyle is fundamentally strained.
Wishing to live without doing anything is wrong in itself. Eh, you didn't need me to tell you that? Oh well... *Sigh*. It's hitting me now, though.
The static electricity that ran through me a few days ago gives a sudden jolt of pain now. Maybe it's time to discharge it.
No, wait, a question suddenly arose like an unseasonal whirlwind.
Why am I living with Akane? Wouldn't it be more appropriate to leave her with our mother's parents? Ah, I've never met the grandmother there directly (Mother hid me whenever she visited the mansion), but I vaguely understood her to be the type to dote on her grandchildren.
Incidentally, the grandfather is senile. He used to insist things like, 'Chicken is shrimp.' It's terminal.
"Mmm-hmm." "Myu myu myu." Poking Akane's forehead and wiggling my finger, I pondered her future arrangements.
How I'm going to live from now on... let's put that on the shelf for now. Maybe I should ask Akane once. She's not shy, so she'd probably fit in right away.
"Hey, Akane." "What?" Her voice was clearly excited. Ah, right, I didn't preface changing the subject, so she's expecting me to suggest something. But time to flip the table.
"How about you go live with Grandma and Grandpa?"
"..." Smile frozen mid-operation. Doesn't look like it'll reboot on its own.
"You've met your grandparents, haven't you?" I have to break down the questions; if even one part of a long question trips her up, she becomes unresponsive to the whole thing. Failed marks in Japanese Language Arts, too.

"Yeah. Boku doesn't like them."
"That's fine. So, I'm suggesting you go live at their house."
"Why're you stopping?" (*Akane likely misinterpreting Yuna's pause or phrasing*)
"Because... Boku's home is here, right? Big Sis Yuna isn't there."
"...Ugh." I feel like this conversation isn't connecting. I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to regain composure.
Akane's perception isn't finely tuned. It's like trying to conduct a color blindness test using a black-and-white television – totally mismatched. There's too much dust collected in the connection port, making it extremely difficult to find what you're looking for.
"At the Ooe house, if you asked, I bet it'd be easy to get gratin steaming on the table even for breakfast."
Trying to bait her with food. This is where Akane's high elementary schooler index comes from. An old-fashioned one, at that.
"Boku just wants to eat what Big Sis Yuna makes."
"Ngh." Quite a high index on this one. I won't specify what index I'm referring to. "But, you know..." "Hey, Big Sis." "Mm."
Since we're both space creatures existing in a vacuum, interrupting each other is an everyday occurrence.
"Boku... had completely forgotten about Touka. Since coming here with Big Sis Yuna."
She said it flatly, her expression unchanging, so I couldn't even try to rifle through her feelings.
"...I see."
I didn't ask which meaning she intended, just affirmed it. Aware that this was my role.
"Aargh!!" She started acting up. Shoveling all the remaining rice and rolled omelet into her mouth, washing it down with water, and wiping her mouth forcefully.
"This makes no sense, I'm going out to play!"
"Hey, wait."
"Thanks for the meal—! Keee-een!"
Tearing through the air with her voice, Akane flew out the door. "...What a troublesome child."
I was about to advise her to brush her teeth before going. That was a lie, though.
She got away from me, I suppose.
"And she left the front door wide open."
Is that an invitation to follow? I think it'll just invite mosquitoes in for a house call, though.
My intention to gather the energy to close the door is hampered by the fact that the meal on the table has become just a single serving of white rice. The rolled omelet was meant for two, but maybe I should overlook it since she's a growing child.
"But you know, Akane..."
We can't meaninglessly continue a life that's already confirmed to collapse.
My world, too, is on the verge of senility. To put it metaphorically, there's one month left until the end of the Earth. And yet, we fight over many things within a small town just to survive. World's End Ensemble Novel, diligently being written... My direction has been considerably twisted by mysterious radio waves. Feels like my brain has sprouted protrusions, like, totally yuck... This was popular once, too. Memories are always in dreams.
Regarding Akane's arrangements, I want to feel some relief that there's an escape route, that we're not completely on a cliff edge. My escape route is my family home. Ha! This idiot's brakes aren't working at all, are they, Sanae Rika?

"............ Phew, hmm?"
I swallowed a sigh halfway. *Dotetete,* Akane came running back to the entrance. Apparently, she ran out barefoot, this child. Treating the Earth like her own personal garden is quite bold of her, though.
"Heeey, Big Sisss!" Our eyes met, yet she still yelled and flailed both arms.
"The neighbors might misunderstand your gender, so call me using ultrasound." Either that or close the door, quickly now.
"There's something lying outside!"
"There's always lots of stuff out there, isn't there? Like doggies, buildings, people."
"Can I pick it up—?"
"People!" (*Akane shouts*)
"Depends on what it is. If it's a living creature, just tell it to live strong and leave it at that."
"Um, well, it's not alive, but— it's a right arm—"
"......From which creature—?"
I asked, but creatures with arms are rare. Apes, maybe? Everything else just has legs. Therefore, Akane's response was, as expected, a soft catch in our game of catch, not a super ball pound.
"I suppose so. Just leave it alone."
Imagining myself glancing down at a newspaper and dismissively ignoring my daughter's words... but Akane reverses left and right, so... left...
"Mine was the right arm, wasn't it?" I glanced at the junk pile. "Whose?" Akane charged forward with her whole body, not waiting to find a gap in things. Since she's barefoot, coming inside is easy— wipe your feet— "Oww!" I forcefully pinched and pulled the flesh under Akane's jaw. "Where did you find it?" "In front of the room— Owsh!" Letting the skin-flesh rubber band snap back, Akane clutched her jaw with both hands, "Ow ow." She wandered the room aimlessly, trying to soothe the pain. Her trajectory somehow resembles Mayuko's drawings.

So, a left arm. Genuine, without embellishments like "golden."
I can definitely think of one person in this apartment complex whose limbs have declared independence.
The ones managing Tsurusato-san's arm parts were, I believe, Fukiage Yuka and Ooe Yuna. However, Ooe Yuna is excluded from the candidates due to bias, leaving only Fukiage Yuka.
But the situation of letting it go... hehe, letting go of a hand... Stop smirking thinly and analyze. Unless they fell into an unavoidable situation, they wouldn't publicly discard their participation rights.
If they intended to continue the game, naturally. But thinking conversely, in times like these, if they intended to *end* it...
It's pointless to engage in trial and error (wait, was that the right kanji?) at this stage.
Perhaps a left arm belonging to someone completely unrelated to Tsurusato-san was used for practice cutting by a modern samurai, who then thought, 'It's not a cigarette, so littering is okay, de gozaru.'
First, let's confirm the lost item with my own eyes.
Oh dear, it's just one more lost child—or perhaps one more lost *thing*—to look after. The annoying part is that this isn't a lie.

The Third Tsurusato Conference was convened as a special session designated "Emergency."

Perhaps I could decorate it with words like "Sudden Turn of Events," "Lightning Speed," or "Urgent Bloodbath Bargain Sale." They're all words expressing swiftness, yet piling them on seems likely to make things ponderous.
"Seriously... what the hell happened here?"
Imaki-kun, looking like yakisoba left out for three days in summer, muttered, pointing at the object of his lament. I followed his gesture without resistance, while Erina-chan had been observing from the start.
Fukiage Yuka's corpse was broken. Roughly speaking, though much was left undone.
Traces of joint destruction, giving the impression someone had played with a mannequin before ultimately adding it to the compost heap in the art prep room. Elbows, wrists, neck, waist, fingertips, knees, ankles had all entered the mirror world, bending the wrong way.
Cause of death... which one could it be? Being an amateur at autopsies, plus with forensic investigation restricted, I can't even ascertain the order of injuries, but the prime suspect is likely the neck. Long shot, the big toe.
Yuka-chan's corpse was apparently the first to arrive in this room again today. Imaki-kun, the second to arrive, told me so. Of course, if the culprit was Nonami Erina, the order would shift by one.
The culprit... is among us... I suppose. Because only the four of them, including Yuka-chan, could open Tsurusato-san's room.
Due to where she was abandoned, Yuka-chan gave off the air of groceries bought in bulk at the supermarket that wouldn't fit in the fridge, placed nearby as a temporary measure. She died before establishing her character. Is she scheduled for more screen time in a post-mortem spin-off? Unlikely, though.
Besides, the possibility that *she* was the one who killed Tsurusato-san still remains. We can't get a confession now, either. This is tough... Ah, it's belated, but let me jot down a tacked-on character description.
Fukiage Yuka-chan was a lovely high school girl, seventeen years old. At time of death, that is. Her face was remarkably small, reminding me of a bowling ball. Though now she resembles rotten cabbage. Right, I'll produce this girl with the truly irreverent character trait of being killed... Just kidding, please forgive me, imaginary ghost friends.
Tsuru-san's left arm (*Note: `つるさわん - tsurusawan` abbreviation for Tsurusato-san's left arm*), which I secured before anyone else saw it, lies abandoned in the corner of this room, making me brace myself for the eventual appearance of bugs.
Ah, speaking of bugs, my parents once teased me for being like their daughter... Oh? Even though it's true, letters brimming with suspicion are pouring in from everyone across the country. Why is that, I wonder?

I stood up from my seat and approached Yuka-chan's corpse. A foul stench wafted up. The smell of human insides. The smell of raw meat. It's not as bad as Hisaya-kun's vicinity, but it must be humiliating for a woman.
Peeking out from Yuka-chan's clothes was a portable music player. Its official name uses far too much English for me to retain in my memory. I casually borrowed it, then returned to my spot.