---

---

This is fine, right, Anata? I've learned my lesson, so it's okay, right, Anata?
The Aomidoro twists its stomped foot, checking the extent of the damage, and whines quietly again.
"For you to come all the way here... I bet no one saw that coming."
He knows my name, which means he knows my husband. And if he knows my husband at the hotel, does that mean my husband was captivated by this Aomidoro? No, that can't be right. That man doesn't have such poor taste. It's *my* "there" that's so wonderful, he can't help himself. Every time I feel it, I can't suppress the love welling up anew in my heart.
Which Aomidoro is going to provide me with a lovely path to my husband? Hurry up and grovel on the floor so I can walk all over you.
So, I just need to beat this Aomidoro to an inch of its life, right, Anata!
Don't mess with me! How many more steps until I reach my husband? I've learned more than enough.
"Oh, what a pain." To think I have to consider things like language barriers and species barriers every single time.
Exposing my feelings for you, Anata—feelings I've kept hidden from the world—to a mere animal is so shameful I could bite my tongue off. But if they're already out in the open, then there's no need for "good little girl" in this space, is there?
Regret this, Aomidoro.
I'll tell you my intentions in words even an Aomidoro can understand.
"You should just die."

Tanetorii Hibiki
(College Student)
4:20 PM

Asking myself if I've done something wrong is usually pointless.
When people live in groups, they inevitably do things that inconvenience someone. Even today, I've probably unknowingly bothered someone or caused them trouble.
So, trying to figure out if I've done something wrong is meaningless. I do things that are good for me and things that are bad for others, and it all balances out, allowing me to live each day.
Having said that... which category does this current situation fall into, I wonder?
Is this an arranged marriage meeting? Or a formal introduction to the family? Or maybe... a punishment cell?
In the room her father led me into, there was a woman about my age. I recognized her, just barely. I recalled her dragging leg, along with the dazzling light of the vending machine.
"Um..."
At my voice, three pairs—a total of six eyeballs—react noticeably. Their mechanical-like movements give me slight goosebumps.
"How about we take turns speaking and asking questions?"
Slowly, at a pace like walking on the moon, I try making a suggestion to move things forward. The father and her, as if by prior agreement, give small nods and accept the proposal.
The woman has a look on her face that says, "Huh, me too?" Well, actually, you seem to be quite the source of misunderstanding, especially for *her*. I mean, you were with her father, so of course it'd lead to misunderstandings.
"Uh, well then, first..." "Yes!" *She* raises her hand. Why am I, one of the involved parties, also acting as the MC? As that question swirls in my mind like wind, I call on her, "Yes." Without a pause, she opens her mouth.
"What are you doing here, Fath...er."
She stops herself from saying "Dad" fully, settling for the most minimal address. It seems her agitation, enough to call him "old man," has subsided. Her father, who looked gloomy until a moment ago, now seems a little pleased for some reason.
However, the content of her question doesn't seem like it'll lead to a cheerful topic.
...Huh. Looking closely, the father resembles the man in the photo that was in the cigarette pack. Assuming *she* is the girl in that photo, and considering the passage of time... Ah, it matches.
I wonder if that boy picked up the father's lost item. Should I return it? But it's tricky to bring this up during the current discussion. I'll wait a bit longer.
"What do you mean...?" "Ah, I was wondering about that too," the woman interjects. Her eyelids are drooping somewhat sleepily. "This person, he first came in through that window there." She twists her upper body like an uncentered spinning top and points to the window behind her.
"Hey, now, refrain from making statements that damage a person's reputation like that..."
"So you became a thief after all? Or a ruffian?"
She presses further. Come to think of it, I didn't set a limit on the number of questions or anything.
"Neither. This was the only room with an open window, so I had no choice, you see."
"Coming in because you have no choice and seeing someone naked... I wonder if that's good luck..."
The woman mutters this under her breath, and the word "naked" ignites the situation. For someone who looks so bored, she sure throws a lot of fuel on the fire. And what's clear is that she doesn't seem to realize it herself.
"Naked?! Are you stupid? You're a total criminal!"
She points at her father's forehead, her posture escalating to kneeling on one knee. Her tone was as if she were condemning him. Her father, as if rising to the challenge, leans forward and barks back.
"I'm not that kind of criminal! Well, it's true I trespassed... but still..."
The father falls silent, as if pondering his charges. She maintains her "I'm not listening to that!" attitude, declaring, "If you can say you're innocent and didn't come here to do anything, then go on and say it, you pervert old man!" I started to feel like I was being judged too.
My eyes meet the woman's. Her expression is that of someone watching a problem that's not her own, her gaze pleading, "Make them stop." It was the very gesture of a student looking up at the clock, wishing for a university lecture to end quickly.
"If you're here with a man, then you're in the same boat! Besides, my wife is..."
"If it's the same, then don't get so worked up about it!"
Someone, help me~.

Hanasaki Tarou
(Detective)
&
Touki
(Girl)
4:15 PM

"Hanasaki-kuun, help me~"
"Don't ask anything of me right now. I'm gonna sob, you bastard."
"No, it's just, I listened to your request and questioned the client, and then they went berserk with these complex, layered movements, like they started some kind of 'hmph-hmph defense.' They're rampaging around the office, the desks and stuff are a total mess."
"Over here, I'm in a situation where if I don't pray my fingers aren't broken, they're going to break."
"Your desk, it's half-toppled, and everything from your drawers has spilled out."
"Why can you carry on a conversation so one-sidedly?"
"Yeah, the peak was around when they screamed something like, 'Momoru-faa!' Scary stuff, man. It was a terror akin to the flapping of a cockroach's wings. Thanks to that, we're getting slammed with complaints from the other folks in the building."
"...Are you okay?"
"Right now, our resident pretty boy, Elliot-kun, is in the middle of trying to sweet-talk them into calming down."
"Ah, that guy practically radiates particles... Wait a minute, then what am I in charge of at the office?"
"Figuring that out is your goal for this year."
I hung up. It was just too pointless. I'm tired. Give me a raise. I made it a triple feature.
*Sigh*...
Don't get all worked up so peacefully. Beebeebee, my forefinger, which looks like it's transmitting radio waves or maybe the back of a shrimp, I stare at it for a while, and sigh.
"Is your call over?"
Tachibana Eiji, who, like me, had been talking to someone on the hotel phone until now, says this, sounding bored. Putting my cell phone away, I reply, "Yes, it's over, but..." trailing off.
After that, when Tachibana Eiji returned from the coffee shop, he, along with his pet cat, escorted me to room 1707. Although Tachibana Eiji had a moving reunion with his cat, perhaps conscious of my gaze, he didn't fully unleash his cat-doting side and received it with a cool attitude. The cat, too, as if annoyed by the overprotectiveness—"What's with you, nya? Worrying about where I went"—didn't even greet its owner. It's curled up under Tachibana Eiji's chair, dozing off.
After that, I handed over the cell phone, which indeed turned out to be Tachibana Eiji's lost item, then received a call from the Chief addressed to me, answered it, and here we are.
Still lingering from having made the call at the room's entrance, I continue the conversation standing there.
It tends to be overshadowed by the sharp pain in my finger, but my beaten cheek also ached so much it felt like my face was about to deform.
"This card key, what should we do with it?" It's the one the cat was carrying. The room number is 1701. Did a guest drop it in the hallway? That doesn't quite make sense in this hotel, though.
The question arises: where did that guest go? Surely they didn't scale down the wall into the city.
"Dunno. You take it." With a hand gesture like shooing away a cat, he quickly tries to rid himself of the nuisance.
Tachibana Eiji had said, upon glancing at the card key, that the number was ominous. Ah, come to think of it, he did mention something like that, even though it was because of his own fast talking. It seems he was talking about that room on the phone just now, too. Hmm! ...Room 1701. It's kind of bothering me a little.
Also, I wonder if I need to report that blue-suited man from earlier as a suspicious person. I'm not fond of the police, though. Getting questioned and all that is a hassle.
"So, is there still something you need?"
"You think I don't?"
"Of course."
"I'm grateful you found my cat. I'll pay you a reward, of course. What more is there?"
As he says this, for some reason, he's pouting sullenly.
From my perspective, I couldn't just back down with a "Yes, thank you very much, please use our services again." Tilting the card key in my left hand, twirling it flap-flap, I open my mouth.
"What was your reason for lying about not having your phone?"
"If I told a professional finder of lost things that I'd lost it, you'd meddlesomely go and find it, wouldn't you!"
Why is he snapping at me? I get drawn in and my tone becomes combative too.
"Would it be a problem if I found it?"
"Why?" Is it because you're having an affair, you bastard? With the cat.
"That's because, you idiot, I can ignore the reminder calls from my editor!"
He stated it decisively, with a face that said, "What an obvious thing to say."
"Huh?" Ah, the venom inside me is evaporating.
"Even if I miss my deadline, I can make the excuse that I lost my phone and couldn't be contacted. And yet you find it so easily. Don't show off your professional spirit in a situation like this!"
*Haaah...* I lost all my strength. I crumpled down in front of the door, landing on my butt. "Easily," you say... honestly.
It's been since two days before my university entrance exams that I've experienced such compressed time.
"Hey, don't collapse in someone else's room. Next, I'll be investigated for having an affair because I'm sharing a room with a man, or something. That's no joke, you know."
He says it in a teasing tone, but I want to retort, "It's no joke for me either!"
That's the ultimate insult to me, who is, from any angle you look at it, branded a lolicon.
"Looks like I've got more damage here. Well, never mind that. While it was lost, I got several calls from my editor. Ah, what should I do? Call back, or ignore them? You've given me a real dilemma," he blames me, sounding like a sulking child.
"...Coo!" I want to become a pigeon. I don't want to understand human language. Then I'd like to wander around at little girls' feet, walking with my head held high. And so, I would live my life, proud of myself.
My escapism has gotten pretty bad; a movie of pigeons fighting a war with peashooters even starts playing in my head.
And then, the sight of a pure white sleeping cat, looking like something out of a painting, entered my vision, and that was the final blow.
The Achilles' heel of my motivation snapped, cleanly as if splitting bamboo.
"...Aah." Enough. You're not having an affair. Right, job's over.
I've set a new record for the shortest time to complete a job. It hasn't even been two hours since I arrived at the hotel.
And yet, the amount of mental fatigue I've accumulated is worse than my last meticulous week-long investigation.
So, what now?
The room where Touki's waiting?
The trashed office that'll be a pain to clean?
Or my parents' place?
Where I should go home to after this... I'm seriously pondering it, you know.

Yamana Misato
(Suicide Aspirant)
4:20 PM

"If you're here with a man, then you're in the same boat! Besides, my wife is..."
"If it's the same, then don't get so worked up about it!"
Noisy. For the first time in a while, a sound made my brow furrow. How many years has it been since I witnessed a fight between a parent and child? My sister and I were only ever unilaterally scolded by our parents.
If my late sister had heard the daughter's triangle-like voice in high fidelity, she probably would have gone mad in ten seconds. No, even after death, if you brought the daughter to her grave, she might just come back from the underworld. Doesn't she ever get tired of making that sound herself, that voice? It would be interesting if she wrote in a notebook or something as a substitute for words. I guess there's no one that eccentric around.
My eyes met with the person opposite me who looked about my age, and I received a gaze that said, "Someone, help me~." I returned the sentiment of "Make them stop." The spirit of mutual concession is on full display here, isn't it, between us.
To value such a spirit... what is the world thinking? Everyone does it, don't they?
"It's not about finding fault! It's that I'm worried you're living a disordered life on your own—" "Do I have to apply to my family for permission every single time I date someone? If so, then make a form and put it in my mailbox! I'll just tear them all up anyway!"
"Why do you take things to such extremes! You're just like him, you are."
"D-don't lump me in with my brother!"
So noisy. I'm gonna jump, you bastards. Settle your family problems at home.
It can't be helped. If they're too loud, we'll probably get complaints from the neighboring rooms. Besides, if they don't resolve this soon, I won't even be able to kill myself in peace.
"Um... Maybe it would have been better to introduce ourselves before starting the discussion."
I mean, I don't even know the names of the three of them. And it's not like I'm involved. I only have a connection thinner than ice with the old guy, and it's not like I sought it out... But then, connections, desires... what standards do I use to define those things, I wonder.
If I think too deeply, it feels like everything will truly vanish, so I'll just forget about it. I've learned that the quickest way to resolve a question is through oblivion. Though things that come with wounds, I remember them every time they ache.
"...That's true, I suppose. There's probably no one here who knows everyone else involved."
The old guy holds his palm out to his daughter, signaling a truce. His agitated daughter, perhaps finding it too troublesome to sustain her anger, replies with a sullen "Roger that" and sits down again.
She fiddles with the earring she's wearing and glances at the guy who looks about her age. In response, he points to his own face.
"I am Tanetorii Hibiki, a third-year university student. Uh, this is Natsumi-san, who attends the same university, and we are... acquainted..." He explains his background, primarily to the old guy, forcing a smile and bowing obsequiously. So he's a college student after all. I'll call him Tanetorii-kun, then. But, what a strange name.
The old guy nods with a "I see," his blank face showing he hasn't particularly understood anything. His movements are so stiff, you'd think someone should offer to oil his spine or backbone. The air just between Tanetorii-kun and the old guy seems to have lost its oxygen; it looks suffocating.
"So, Tanetorii-kun, what business brings you to this hotel today?"
The old guy is probing in an unpleasant direction. Isn't it obvious? Ah, but then again, there are guests like me who come here intending to commit suicide with their memories, so I can't say for sure, can I?
He was being evasive earlier, but as for the questioner, the old guy himself, it's a complete mystery what purpose he had clinging to the hotel wall and moving for dear life. If he was, say, escaping from an affair, that would be kind of funny. If your life is on the line, maybe even infidelity can be forgiven.
"Well... to hang out?" Tanetorii-kun glances at the daughter's face. The daughter looks away. Speaking of which, thinking about infidelity just now, I wonder if *he* ever cheated on me when we were dating, before he died. I'm oblivious to the subtleties of human emotion and daily changes, so I wouldn't have noticed anything.
I've never seen any other girl as depressed as I am, to the point of being unable to recover, so maybe he didn't. But then, maybe most people don't get that depressed. When someone important dies, how much despondency is the appropriate amount? I don't know. I don't know. Even though my sister died too.
"There are other, more wholesome places to hang out, aren't there?" "No, well, your daughter invited me to go..." "What did you say?!" "What, is it wrong?" "N-no, it's not wrong... but I don't like it!" "Could you please not reject it based solely on your personal feelings? It's very annoying." "This is an issue based on emotions, isn't it!" "Stop saying all the right things, it's pissing me off!" "Ah, ah, calm down..." "Why are *you* so calm?!"
It was too much trouble, so I wasn't even listening to half of it. Everything is just so, so troublesome.
It's always been like that, ever since I was a child. I only ever acted within the range I could comfortably reach.
That kind of me, desperately stretching, reaching out with trembling hands.
The first thing I was ever passionate about in my life was him. The next was despair.
A spirit that continues to smolder even after a year, one that says "nothing matters" yet dominates everything.
If it's continued this long, maybe I should just go ahead and sublimate it into a hobby.
To continue despairing. That people can somehow go on living, even when they've mastered such apathy.
I almost felt a strange motivation welling up, like I could even prove it.
Slipping through a lull in the parent-child squabble that resembled playful bickering, I speak to the old guy.
In the end, the introductions were incomplete, so I still don't know his name.
"Um, you said your son passed away in April, didn't you?"
To my question, the old guy replies, "Ah," his expression regaining its seriousness as he nods. He's quick to switch gears, this old guy. He has a dull face, but that part of him is actually pretty cool.
"You talked about that?" his daughter—Natsumi-san, was it?—interjects, sounding displeased. "Well, yeah, a bit. There was a lull in the conversation," the old guy excuses himself, his gaze flicking for just a moment towards the desk.
...Ah, come to think of it, I left my suicide note over there... Did the old guy see it, I wonder?
"How did you feel? Ah, I mean, how are you feeling?"
The old guy looks at me with bewildered eyes in response to my question. Tanetorii-kun, perhaps finding something concerning in my words, mutters, "Passed away... April?" His eyes are darting around, wavering like a balloon.
"What are you asking? Don't talk about my brother in front of me."
Natsumi-san snaps at me. It's not a story directly related to her brother, I want to explain, but I'm bad with words, and intimidated by her ferocity, all I can do is shrink back with an "Oooh..."
Mmm, there's no way I can ever escape being a useless human being. No matter how much I try to shake something off.
"I stopped being afraid of things."
The old guy ignored his daughter's protest and gave me his answer. Natsumi-san turns away with a pouting "...What the heck." Tanetorii-kun interrupts his thoughts and tries to placate Natsumi-san with a "Now, now."
"It's a bit off from your question, but as for how I felt, that sums it up," the old guy says flatly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Earthquakes, illness, fires, traffic accidents. I lost interest in things directly connected to death. It's fine if I die, fine if I live. No, which is it now? It doesn't matter. Dreamlike reality, perhaps? My precious reality became fractured, I lost my sense of touch with it, and everything was vague for a long time."
Saying this, the old guy's face twists as if about to cry, tinged with desolation. But no tears fall. He takes a lighter from his pocket and fiddles with it, flicking it on and off. I wonder if he smokes.
Natsumi-san, though still pouting, looks down and squeezes her eyelids shut, as if enduring something from within.
"In that situation, my daughter also left to live on her own. I tried to stop her, but it had been decades since I'd been in a fistfight, so I lost badly. The feeling of being alive started to come through my body from that, but it was awful."
"Hey, old man."
"For about two months after the funeral, the boundary between life and death was blurred. Looking back, it's a wonder I didn't get fired from my job."
".........And now?"
"It's still painful now. But this is for a different reason."
It was a suggestive way of putting it. I wonder if someone else close to him died recently. Even glancing at Natsumi-san's face, she's just staring at her father's mouth with an uncomprehending expression.
"People get used to someone's death, don't they? If it repeats, if time passes, inevitably. What is that, I wonder. Someone important dies, you mourn and grieve... but then, little by little, it resolves itself. It stops being painful. Like a corpse decomposing and returning to the earth."
Something reflected in the old guy's eyes, as he stared at the lighter's flame, wavered.
"*That's* what's painful."
"........."
"If you lose the sadness, doesn't that mean the value of your feelings disappears?"
Those words bit into the core of my heart.
My breathing became difficult, and I clutched at my throat. *Usually it's the chest, right?* I jabbed at myself internally.
"Also, I realized there's very little you can do for someone who's died, and I got fed up."
"......Things you can do?"
"There's nothing like that. The person isn't anywhere anymore."
The old guy says, "No, there are things. It's just, they're so few that it only makes you sadder."
"What are they?"
"That's something you should think about for yourself, isn't it? If it's something you want to do, something that connects you to your loved one. Don't just appropriate someone else's teachings. Well, that's if it ever comes to that, anyway."
"The answer isn't always the same, either," the old guy adds quietly.
"But it's true that you can't even think if you're not alive, and once you're dead, you can't do anything for the dead."
"Yes, well..."
He's an old guy who says admirable, yet unpleasant things. That's what I thought, and I stuck my tongue out at him in my mind.
The old guy looks up and concludes his somewhat roundabout answer with a tearful smile.
"In short, I was incredibly sad... Are you satisfied with that unquantifiable expression?"
"If so, that's fine then. ...Well, feelings have an expiration date too. If such a time comes for you, you should grieve with all your might while you're still despairing."
"...Is that so."
You say that, but...
In order to grieve, you need to be alive.
...Ah, what a pain.
"It was Tanetorii-kun, wasn't it?" The old guy shifts his gaze from me and calls out to his daughter's boyfriend.
Even though he remembered the name, he deliberately spoke as if to say, "I only vaguely remember your name," feigning a lack of interest or concern.
"Weh?!"
"Ha..." Tanetorii-kun freezes, like a new employee seated with a company bigwig.
"You have a room here, right?" Whoa, the old guy looks annoyed. "Yessir."
"Take my daughter and check out quickly."
"Hey, uh, my fath—!" She calls out to her father like some Ultra-something. "Never mind showing up on your daughter's date, you're actually sitting in on it? Are you an idiot? And then giving orders? You're not the coach of a sandlot baseball team, so know your place!"
"No, no, it's not like that. I won't say it's entirely not like that, but for the most part, it's not like that."
"What kind of Japanese is that?!"
I think Natsumi-san is pretty out there herself, though.
"Anyway, why are you even here?! If there's any reason other than this woman, then explain yourself!"
"Alright, alright... I really didn't want to speak of this for the rest of my life, but to explain why I came here, I have to talk about the premise. Okay? I'm about to tell you a truly irreverent fact."
*Pip.* The old guy pointed at the wall. We naturally followed his fingertip with our eyes.