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Looking down at my feet, I saw a dried-up earthworm. ......There's always the option of eating insects, I suppose.
The front door slid open. Kaneko-kun appeared, wearing a hat and work gloves.
"Ah, uh, hello, Amano-san... Er, how else should I greet you?"

"Hello. Could you hear my voice all the way inside?"
"No, my little brother spotted you from that window and was like, 'Bro, there's someone weird in the yard.' I'd been asked to do some weeding, so I figured, well, maybe I should be the one to see what's up. Besides, when I looked out the window myself, I was surprised too, wondering what you were doing here."
Sporting a face adorned with a socially appropriate smile, Kaneko-kun approached. The sound of his sandals crunching on the dirt was somehow pleasant. He stopped just out of reach of my umbrella and scratched his cheek.
"Uh, did you come over to play with the dog? And, uh, did you know this was our house?"
"I just happened to be passing by when this one called out to me. Such an assertive little thing, isn't he?"
And somehow, Kaneko-kun keeps getting a lot of screen time. It must be entirely thanks to Jirou, I suppose. Though, probably only for me. From anyone else's perspective, they likely wouldn't pay much attention to a dog. Fufufu, just because *I* was 'chosen,' doesn't necessarily mean good fortune for Kaneko-kun... can't say for sure, can we?
"By the way, does this little guy like things like boiled eggs?"
"Eh? No, I've never given him one... Are you planning to?"
"I just thought I should pay a fee for petting him."
"Ah, please wait a moment." Kaneko-kun headed back inside. He returned in less than a minute, holding an opened bag. Just where the picture of the dog is, its neck seems to have been chopped right off.
"Here, this is his food... Or rather, treats, I guess. Go ahead."
".........Thank you." I took it for the time being. Surely he doesn't expect *me* to eat this? Yes, surely not.
Without waiting to see what I'd do, Kaneko-kun moved away. He crouched down by the weeds and started pulling them. *Rip, rip,* he pulled the weeds out by the roots, creating the base of a pile beside him.
My, my, Kaneko-kun. Has he set up a 'Let's Feed the Dog Experience Corner' for me? How meddlesome of him.
Regardless, I took one treat out of the bag. Jirou reacted boldly to the stick shaped like a thigh bone, kicking his paws against my arm again. When I brought it near his mouth, he snatched it and started chewing intently from the end, *gaji-gaji*. His eager grip and skillful chewing combined perfectly, whittling it down before my eyes. ......I wonder if it tastes good, I found myself thinking with the worst kind of curiosity.
"They have all sorts of dog food these days, don't they?"
I offered a casual bit of small talk, light enough that he wouldn't have to stop his work. I thought it wouldn't matter if he didn't hear, but Kaneko-kun dutifully replied.
"Saying 'these days' implies... did you used to have a dog, or maybe some other pet, back then?"
"No, never." If anything, I was the one being kept. Treated like an exhibit. ...... If I used 'But that's a lie' here, I wonder if it would dispel the dregs settling in my mood.

Swatting away the buzzing bush mosquitoes, he turned his head towards me and Jirou.
"But you really do like dogs, don't you?" he said, his mouth forming a gentle shape, as if finding it heartwarming.
"Yes. They can be food in an emergency."
"Ah... I think I'm starting to understand your personality, Amano-san."
Despite the direct sunlight hitting his eyes, he didn't drop his smug look, teasing me with that grin. If understanding someone's personality were that easy, the dream of having a hundred friends wouldn't be snoozing off in the distant yonder.
"Maybe you could get one at your place... Oh, right, that's impossible. You live in an apartment, don't you?"
"That's right." Though the fact that I can't afford to feed another mouth takes precedence.
"Oh yeah, speaking of which, it's become a rumor among the mothers and stuff that a high schooler living in that apartment went missing."
"Ah... so it seems. But my neighborly relations are rather thin, so I don't know much detail." Ah, perhaps that lie just now was free-range, not farmed. I didn't consciously think of it beforehand at all.
Having finished the bone-shaped treat (Please understand, it's like how some people call all adhesive bandages 'Band-Aids'), Jirou kept glancing towards the bag. It's like the way someone peeks longingly into a bag of potato chips after eating half. If he went to the *other* Ooe house, he'd be spoiled rotten and could eat all he wants, I imagine.
"Ah, please just give him the one. He won't finish his dinner otherwise."
"'Hear that?'" I pulled the bag back and hid it in the sleeve of my yukata.
At that, his eyes seemed to retreat as if sulking, becoming half-hidden by his fur, which I found amusing.
Maybe after I leave Akane with her grandparents, I'll live with a dog. Would that be impossible for various reasons?
Then, let's reverse the idea. Why don't *I* live with the dog in the kennel right here?
"...Hahhh." My sigh ruffled Jirou's fur.
*I wouldn't mind sleeping in a doghouse,* I thought vaguely.
As I fluffed Jirou's fur and played with him, time passed one o'clock. The hour and minute hands on the clock I saw when leaving the curry shop had overlapped at twelve, so quite some time must have passed.
Kaneko-kun paused his weeding to kindly bring me some barley tea he'd poured, which I accepted. After that, I said goodbye to Jirou. For some reason, he barked about three times. *'Oh, oh, are you sad to see me go?'* I thought, deeply moved. Filled with glee, I skipped away towards the road, calling out, 'Heeere, try and catch me!' When I turned back... his cute, sparkling eyes were staring at me with an incredibly cold expression—
That whole part was a lie. It's a lie!

Partway through, Kaneko-kun had taken Jirou back inside. I retrieved the curry set that had been sheltering from the direct sun and resumed my journey home. Akane, who rarely ventures out alone, had stayed home again today. I tried to ponder how I could possibly smooth things over with her, but... as expected, it was pointless.

Normally, my concentration is so far removed it feels like I'd need to board a plane just to reach its vicinity, but now it felt even more distant. Like that manga phenomenon where someone seems huge due to sheer intimidation, my vision blurred. Fed up with it, I decided to take a nap as soon as I got back to my room. I've absorbed too much 'other people component' today. It feels like pollen dumplings are being stuffed up my nose. On top of that, the certainty that I still have to meet at least two more people later weighs heavily on my mood.
There are things to be gained from meeting others. But the vessel capable of tolerating it varies from person to person. My heart hasn't matured enough to handle multiple relationships. I was never given the chance; instead, I was pawed all over only by educators who deemed such growth unnecessary—I know full well that's the cause. It's not that education itself is bad, but that I received a *bad* education, leaving me with nothing I could do but accept it. And who, exactly, is there for me to complain to?
Ah, the future is already tinted sepia ahead of schedule. Powerless little me doesn't even have the savings to buy paints. ......Come to think of it, there was someone who used to say something like this.
*'For *me*, the future is nothing more than a schedule. I get to decide everything myself, you see. Normal peeps probably can't accept anything less than uncertain things like 'possibilities.' Ah, how unfortunate for them. And yet, to live freely, betting on the future... to live without feeling irritated by the inability to determine something like what's to come—how fortunate for *them*.'*
I wonder if that person is still alive now. They were someone who seemed to use others' animosity as fuel to push forward, stubbornly pursuing an honest way of life. Even as a child, I thought they definitely had the kind of personality that would never allow them to die of old age.
Though they probably won't ever appear in the story of my world.
Once the apartment started flickering into view, I shifted to a brisk walk, eager to quickly escape the sun, which seemed to be reveling in a brief moment of ecstasy after finishing its dance.
Shortly after entering the premises, my eyes met Erina-chan's in the shadow of the garden. *Beneath her feet, Yuka-chan is buried. When we buried her, every time Yuka-chan's head wobbled, her eyes rolled around. But I thought, maybe that was really Yuka-chan, still alive, memorizing our faces before she was buried. Someday, Yuka-chan will...*

"'H'lo.'"
*...move her scattered joints scattered-ly and appear before us. And then, with what's in her hand...* No, this isn't the time for descriptions in the style of a scary story told by a young narrator to incite fear. When burying the body, Imaki-kun had taken the initiative, saying, 'I wanna try!', so we left everything to his manly hands. He seemed to be truly enjoying himself as he dug a deep, deep hole. It was practically a proper burial, so the smell probably won't be an issue. We made sure to put her in a plastic bag, too. Ah, and of course, in accordance with the law, we used a translucent one.

Erina-chan doesn't seem to be mourning her friend's death. Her hand was braced against the apartment wall, and it looked like she was scribbling something furiously. She really loves drawing, this girl. Though using the Earth itself as her art supplies might suggest a slightly twisted artistic spirit, I can only pray the local neighborhood association doesn't get mad. But that's a lie.
She bent her waist and other parts, folding her words in the middle too, throwing a V-shaped greeting my way. I plotted to grandly ignore her and hasten my return home, but I gave up and approached Erina-chan.
Honestly, I should have been wary and kept my distance, but tredding on the ground felt like too much trouble, so I stopped late and ended up unnecessarily close. At a glance, she didn't seem to be carrying any weapons, just a marker pen—artist specifications. So long as no artistic value is found in me, my person should be safe, I reassured myself after the fact, turning my eyes to the wall on the left. 'If you abbreviate 'apaato' (apartment), you get 'aato' (art), huh?' What a nonsensical thought.
On a smooth section of the wall, countless doodles jostled for space. Parting ways with the numerous cicada husks spread out like endlessly blooming flowers, a single brown cicada beginning to take flight. A sunflower, petals scattered around a center where the points of three crescents converged and burst forth. And then... this drawing is a praying mantis, isn't it? It's strangely huge, but perhaps this is standard size in the countryside? What a terrifying lie.
And a headless corpse (But can you really call it a corpse? I mean, even if it only had a right arm, calling it a 'corpse without a torso' feels wrong, doesn't it?) surrounded by a beaming group of four with their hands raised. In their hands were saws dripping black blood. Dotted cutting lines were drawn on the central corpse's limbs, which had then been repaired with cellophane tape applied over them.
From those innocent smiles, like the sun itself, it felt like shrill cries might start playing in my ears at any moment... Or rather, it smells like paint thinner around here. I wonder if that's the kind of 'play' they indulge in.
"'Ah, Miss Whatchamacallit, want to draw too?'" *Sss, sss,* the tip of the marker pen slid towards my cheek.
"'Me?'" It's nothing to brag about, but once, when I drew Doraemon for fun, I nearly became the pioneer of a genre where the merits cancel each other out: 'Cheerful Rat Man.' "'I'll pass.'"
"'Oh, okay... Missing out on life, then,'" she mumbled, leaving a faint trace of poison in the air as she withdrew her hand. However, Erina-chan didn't create a new mural with her pen, instead picking up some kind of liquid and a cloth she had ready at her feet. Judging from the causal relationship that the smell intensified as she lifted them, they seemed to be the source of the nose-melting stench.
"'Is that picture in the middle Tsurusato-san's Carnival?'"
"'Yes, that's right. This is the shape of the dream we all talked about, that I drew. When I was about ten. We were such good friends, the four of us went everywhere together—radio calisthenics, elementary school, the city pool—so I thought the game would definitely be fun too, and I got ahead of myself and drew it. I'm not good at making friends, so I really like my friends.'"
"'Hmm. Is that so.'" Unable to think of a witty comment, I just stirred the saliva in my mouth with a reaction that wasn't even a proper reply. My knowledge regarding friends consists solely of: 'If you don't have any, you're usually treated like scum.'

"'I'm dumb, so I failed the entrance exam for the high school I wanted to go to. But I was happy because we were all still together.'"
She stroked the 'friends' in the drawing, one by one, with the palm of her hand. Legs, head, torso—she rubbed them all together. Perhaps because they had all aged and lost their youthful forms over the years, their bodies easily crumbled away into dust.
Erina-chan gradually cupped her previously flat palm, digging her fingernails in. Then, nails filled with desolation fiercely scratched someone's neck—a single flash. After watching the head float in mid-air, Erina-chan exhaled a burnt breath.
"'But this dream can never come true anymore. So, I'm resetting.'"
*Scrub, scrub,* she set about deleting the headless corpse with the liquid-soaked cloth. *How convenient, saving the effort of erasing the face compared to a standard corpse,* I couldn't help but think, which made me slightly happy. But the moment I thought it, it was still within the realm of imagination, so ultimately my brain can't escape disqualification.
Since moving was too much trouble, I naturally ended up waiting for her to finish. Erina-chan continued wiping diligently, drawing a blank space onto the canvas. Some cicada husks lost their wings as collateral damage.
Eventually, a white sphere, like a sun that held no light, was complete. A few more cicadas were exterminated in the process.
The sunflower with crescent points bloomed peacefully in the bottom left corner, reigning supreme.
"'Reset complete. The title screen is pure white.'"
"'My, the game terms are flying fast and furious.' Well then, I'll jump on the bandwagon. Isn't it bugged?"
I wasn't specifically referring to *you*, therefore please wipe your tears. Yes, that was a lie.
Let them flow.

"'Huh?'"
"'Ehehe... I play games so much, the words just slip out sometimes.'" A slightly embarrassed laugh. As she spoke, a strand of hair from the side of her head got into her mouth, and she flailed in a panic, 'Mga, mga!'
"'Oh, is that so? My little sister likes games too. Lately, she just complains about being bored because I haven't bought her any new ones; it's quite troubling.'"
"'Ah, well, shall I lend you some games then?'" Good girl Erina-chan offered a lifeboat of unknown material.
"'Oh, really? That would be a great help! I don't understand youth culture, so it's hard to buy things for my sister.'" That's a lie-diss. And the reason the lie is bright red is because it reflects the color of the tongue I'm sticking out in my mind-diss. Lie-di... (Cutting off here as a loop is starting).
"'Want to come get them now? My mom's out working right now, so nobody's home.'"
"'...I see. Then, could you please go get them and bring them here?'"
"'I'm saying, I will wait here, so could you perhaps go to your room, retrieve them, and bring them to me? That is what I am requesting.'"
"'...Y-yes, please wait a moment.'" Tilting her head as if finding it hard to accept, she trotted off to her room.
Hmm, it's worth trying things out, isn't it? I never thought such an order would actually fly. I thought there was no way borrowing and lending could happen with the borrower being this outrageously rude, unless they were some kind of gang leader kid. Humans really can do things if they try (sometimes), can't they.

As I waited, my head fuzzy from the heat to the point where I wasn't sure if I was stretching vertically or falling sideways, Erina-chan dashed out of her room without even closing the door. *Nodda nodda,* she moved her feet, slowly returning towards me. Huh? Doesn't that contradict the previous sentence, you ask? The heart (expression) and the body (reality) are separate things. Besides, in this heat, things can even rot during transit, y'know, y'know.
*Patapata,* running listlessly like a cicada squeezing out the last of its seemingly soon-to-be-burnt-out life, Erina-chan came to a stop and let out a breath.
She thrust out her palm, *nyut,* upon which rested several game cartridges smaller than crackers.
"'Here you go.' 'Thank you.'" Oh dear, her speech pattern is infectious. Regardless, I obtained several entertainment items. Another souvenir for Akane. And the ideal type, too—one that doesn't lower the temperature of my wallet.
And also, just somehow, I thought that maybe Erina-chan was the one who killed Yuka-chan.

"'Gripping my marker, I think I'll try drawing the shape of a new game here,'" declared Erina-chan, nostrils flaring slightly with enthusiasm. I ignored her and folded my parasol.
Then, after nearly entering the wrong room (But Hisaya-kun isn't there now either, so maybe they wouldn't treat me to tea and snacks? Tee-hee), I completed the homecoming I'd taken a straight detour for.
".........Phew." I knocked on the door twenty times. Absolutely no response. I opened it with the key I was carrying. Ah, pointless.
Finally, I managed to return to the inside of my own door.
Before taking off my sandals, I leaned back against the door and let out a long sigh. ".........I'm exhausted."
This is probably pressure from excessive fulfillment. I've experienced too much contact with other people in a short time, and my heart has become completely full. In other words, because I'm a shut-in, talking to people is painful. Humans are composed of forty percent personal and sixty percent other, but for me, that ratio is reversed. That's why, if I get carried away and take in too much 'other people component,' I immediately get heartburn.
"Ah... I'm home, Akane..." I started to greet her, but my voice trailed off midway.
Akane was asleep, her belly, even thinner than before, completely exposed, her face scrunched in a frown.
Only the fan, spinning round and round, stirred within the room.
"Ah... Something's... coming." I pressed my head, enduring the dizziness.
A scene from reality, unprepared with clever music or a well-timed scene transition.
It gently devastated me.
Feeling as though I'd seen my entire world right there, tears spilled easily.
Sliding down, scraping my back against the door, I slumped to the floor right where I stood.
My heart rate climbed just from exhaling and inhaling. An aching sense of accomplishment. Recognizing that my world is connected by land to all sorts of places, I'm rejoicing pathetically. How pitiful.

For someone who hates people, to need contact with others this much...
......Ah, there's a rotting smell. The right arm is starting to decompose, isn't it? I need to wrap things up soon.
I was tossed about by a strange sensation encompassing both exhaustion and satisfaction. Inside my eyes, shimmering fish of light swam lazily back and forth.

"Onii-chan, hey yo, oh yo, wake up!"
I realized I was being shaken by the shoulder by a girl who, aside from the initial part about being a hungry dancer from Malaysia at home with Beverly Hills curry from her hometown, didn't particularly fit the description.
"...Ngh." I rubbed my eyes, clearing the blurriness at the edges of my vision. Letting out a yawn, I stretched my body, loosening the stiff fibers of my consciousness. My mood seemed less scattered than before I slept.

After performing a round of mental flexibility exercises, I finally greeted Akane.
"'Morning.' 'Afternoooon.' 'Yes, yes, afternoon.'"
She was strangely cheerful, beaming. Is the reason the faint residue of curry near her mouth, I wonder?
Apparently, I had slumped down in the entryway and fallen asleep right there. My body, especially my back, creaked and groaned, criticizing my ungainly and inconsiderate sleeping posture. Message received, especially by my neck. The right side of my neck aches sharply, like I slept on it wrong. Seems I slept with my head tilted the whole time. While rotating my hips, I rotated my neck too, attempting some rehab.
"'Was the food good?'"
"'Yeah. The egg was super awful too. But maybe Natane's cooking was even more awful.'"
She evaluated the cooking honestly and even licked her lips, perhaps recalling it.
There was no hint of resentment there. Towards Natane, who gobbled up her favorite little sister, she seems to hold absolutely no grudge. Who was it that described her as 'a child without respect'? If they saw through her so accurately, I really wish they'd provided some proper education while they were at it. But that's a lie.
"'Onii-chan.'"
"'I told you not to stare at my upper body when you call me that. Are you trying to pick a fight? Well, what is it?'"
"'Did something good happen?'"
The eat-and-sleep daughter deliberately crouched down to look up at me as usual while speaking. Since 'good things' are reversed for this girl... she's asking if something bad or unpleasant happened, isn't she?
"'Why do you ask that?'"
"'Well, 'cause you were groaning 'Uuh, uuh' in your sleep.'" While making the 'uuh, uuh' sound, she deliberately stuck her fingers in her mouth and pulled sideways. As expected of our household mascot character, she takes this chance to try and cheer me up. I couldn't help but go *birooon* myself. Though I'll pointedly avoid mentioning which body part.
"'It's fine, I was just practicing the Unryuu style in my dream.'" Actually, that's what the dream was like.
"'Okaay? Well, I won't worry about it then.'" She nodded her smiling face, 'Uh-huh, uh-huh,' and ceased her concern for me.

Worrying about me—Akane is such a good girl. She's properly performing her job. There shouldn't be any other use for this child, after all.
"'Hey, Akane.'" Imitating someone, I tried touching her cheek. ...She seems thinner, I think. But I can't tell.
Because today was the first time I'd ever cupped this child's cheek in my palm. There's no point of comparison anywhere in my memory.
"'Hmm?'"
"'You really should go to the Ooe residence.'"

Ah, she's stopped again. The only thing you ever decided was how to handle Touka at the mansion, wasn't it? Did you use up your entire self in that one moment when Natane targeted you?
And then, die by the roadside.
"'If things go on like this, you'll be thrown out of a life where someone else keeps you alive.'"
This child, more than anyone else, cannot live alone.
You know how in old games, there's someone who just tells you, 'This is the village of XX'? A character placed there solely for that role, unable to do anything more.
She's exactly like that. Created for Mother's convenience, her purpose already fulfilled. She's seriously incapable of being useful for anything. I bestow upon her the title: Humanity's Greatest Thomasson.
Perhaps she stays with me because she's aware of this, but she's likely unaware that *this* is the root of her troubles.
Being needed by someone... I'm not good at it.
Especially being adored as family—that gives me the chills.
Strangers are easy, you can just cut them off.
......Ah, so that's it. That's why I liked that dog.
Because I could be irresponsible.
In the end, maybe it wasn't Akane instead of the dog, but the dog instead of Akane?
"Ufufufufu." A creepy laugh escaped naturally.
Oh dear, how troublesome.
I'm not that strong, am I?
How refreshingly disappointing.
"But you know, Akane, you stay here."
Giving up on various things, I put a lid on reality.
The tails of the light-fish lingering behind my eyelids flipped up, sending droplets splashing. It burned terribly.
"'Okay!'" Ah, what a lovely smile. That's fine.
Because it seems you aren't a foreign object in my world. You're an ingredient for happiness, surely.
In the end, happiness is nothing more than changing the air pressure inside the dome by deciding how much preferential treatment to give those inside your own world, and how much misfortune to push onto the outsiders beyond the frame.
For example, Person A gets together with Person B, whom they like. Meanwhile, Person C, who had unrequited feelings for Person B, feels unhappy. Person A is completely unaware, and though it's akin to misplaced resentment, they have pushed misfortune onto Person C.

Becoming unhappy is often nothing more than suffering from the 'illness where important people steadily become strangers.'
......Ah, murderers, too, usually catch that illness, don't they?
The moment a transaction of life takes place, the other party becomes either a stranger, or else simply yourself.