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If I had cut ties, how peacefully, how emptily, could I have lived up to this point. I mutter, almost dreaming, about that precious way of life I'll surely never attain in my entire existence.

"Well, um, Tooru, you're, g-g-going out with me, ssu, so there's that!" Exactly as she said.
"But since you haven't reached enlightenment, this room is somethin' else, ssu. Or rather, it's so unstimulating, it feels like a room where you'd kick the bucket early, ssu."
"So, wanna do something stimulating?"
"Ababababa!" She suddenly started frothing at the mouth.
I felt like she was getting plenty of stimulation, but perhaps I should respect her self-assessment.

"Alright, then let's play with Nagase."
"W-Wait, are you planning to mess with me, ssu?! Is Tooru trying to act like some grown-up playboy, ssu?! I'll protect my innocence, ssu!"
What was this fourth batter of the table tennis club misunderstanding?
I lifted up the bracing Nagase. Then, sort of collapsing into it, we both stood up, and I tried doing a "so high, so high" kind of thing. I seriously doubted if this counted as "playing with Nagase," but I was gradually starting to have a weird amount of fun, so I decided it was fine. Nagase, too, was flailing her arms, seeming to blissfully accept her feet-off-the-ground state, exclaiming, "If Tooru's here, I don't even need wings, ssuu!"
But right after that, everything around us went dark. To be precise, like a processing lag in a game, the room's walls and floor vanished, proving the fiction of my recollection in the darkness.
Without any sensation of falling, I sank into the darkness.
I was disheartened. The moment my brain, delving into even unnecessary details, understood that this could only be a dream or a past recollection, I'd say I'd already halved the dream's value.
A snapping sound, as if a thread above my head had broken. From my arms, the sensation of Nagase disintegrated.
The last thing I held felt like I was touching a soft, squishy, giant insect, or perhaps a boneless baby.
I slammed down onto the bottom of the sprawling darkness. I fell headfirst, but there was no pain.
The dream ended there, as if my consciousness had been cut off.
But, huh? Which one was my reality again?

Had I woken from a dream, or conversely, dived deeper into one? I was being slapped awake by Mayu. A stinging, or rather, a scraping pain shot through my cheek.
"Ah, Mii-kun's eyes went from all gooey to all murky."
A cold, indifferent tone of voice. Mayu's "company manners" attitude prodded at my sleep-addled brain.
"Yeees, it's your usual Mii-kun..." I replied weakly, as if out of breath, shaking my head left and right to clear it. I omitted the dream sandwiched between moments of reality and linked my memories.

Chopsticks in my right hand, a rice bowl in my left. The diner's walls, smelling of oldness and grease, and the dim lighting. Unsuited to that atmosphere, a brand-new television was set up above the counter seats.
It was the diner near the apartment building. On the red table, like something out of a good old ramen shop, sticky to the touch, my order of fried chicken and red miso soup was laid out on a tray.
Steam was still rising from the miso soup bowl, seeming to abstractly convey the movement of a clock's second hand.
It seems I'd been cheating on my meal with the Sandman. My apologies, appetite. While I was at it, I glanced at Mayu in the seat opposite me; she had stood up from her chair and was leaning over the table. A remnant, no doubt, of her slapping me awake moments ago. And as if she'd planned to send in a second wave if the first slapping wasn't enough, her left hand was also raised, poised. "I'm okay. I'm awake, I'm awake," I said aloud, making a clear appeal to avoid any additional wake-up calls. Mayu observed me in silence for a short while, then, apparently judging that I wouldn't fall asleep again, sat back down in her chair. She picked up her chopsticks again and speared a carrot from her sweet and sour pork.

"Mii-kun, you've been sleeping a lot lately."
Mayu commented on my recent state in a monotone voice.
"Hmm, yeah, I guess so. Maybe I'm tired." Or perhaps my Mayu-fication is progressing. Like Mayu and I are reversing roles. Meaning, the Maa-chan in front of me is an imposter! ...But that doesn't seem to be the case.
I put down my chopsticks. Seeking proof of her authenticity, I reached out to Mayu's cheek. I kneaded it with my thumb and middle finger. As someone who, for the past two seconds or so, had self-identified as a Class-1 Mayu Appraiser, if I couldn't determine her genuineness by this feel, I was prepared to take down my shingle. Next, I'll call myself a Special Grade Appraiser. That's a lie, though.
"Mui mui." Such was Mayu's opinion on her cheek being touched. Her suffering and anger are hard to imagine. It's incredibly difficult to convey. But it's very Maa-chan-like, so I'm satisfied. After filling up on Mayu-ness, I removed my fingers. "Mhm, you're the real deal."
The sensation of touching Mayu, lingering on my fingers so much that I was reluctant to pick up my chopsticks again, proved it.

"Here." Mayu shared one of the carrots she had speared with her chopsticks. It seemed to be a "eat this and get your energy back" sort of gesture. "Thanks." In return, I offered a piece of fried chicken as an exchange. Trade established. While she was at it, Mayu proceeded to steadily export the vegetables on her plate over to my side.
"Hey, hey." Just as I was about to gently warn her, "You have to eat your veggies too, you know~," Mayu, with a cool expression, lied, "Maa-chan's allergic to vegetables." What the. Mayu's growing up to be a naughty girl. Or rather, I'm starting to worry that Mayu is becoming like me. Like Mayu and I are trying to meet in the middle, but we pass each other and just keep going towards the other's position. Can't we, like, fuse somewhere in the middle, into Mii-Maa-chan? We'd be invincible-like. It's vexing just thinking about what parts to cut and paste, that's a liiie, bleh. I can't imagine that mixing foreign elements into Mayu, renowned in the Mii-kun world as a perfect beauty, would enhance her artistic value. It's fine just the way it is.
Well, but the idea of my relationship with Mayu changing is probably just needless worry. However, the vegetables exported to my plate can't be dismissed as needless worry. The fried chicken has become like a side dish. When I silently stuffed my cheeks with vegetables, they tasted sweet and sour.

As I looked up at the TV screen, shining more brilliantly than the lights, my eyeballs dried out. The bloodshot parts seemed to act like perforated lines, as if my eyes were tearing apart. In addition to that, the base of my eyelids ached as if being crushed. It's a phenomenon that sometimes happens when I look up at a clear sky during the day.
My eyeballs probably weren't able to adjust to the light. That's how I interpreted it. Though, the excruciating pain when I went outside after living in the basement for a year was nothing compared to this.
The moment my face was bathed in outside light, I writhed and rolled around, unable to stand up for a while.
Unable to bear looking at the TV any longer, I closed my eyes, and tears easily welled up. Sniffling, tears threatened to overflow from my closed eyelids, wetting my eyelashes. If I kept my eyes closed like this, my eyelashes would get stuck together with tears, and I wouldn't be able to open my eyelids. For me, that would be far better.
If there was a reason not to see.
If I could completely shut out a reality where corpses seemed to be rolling around even if I looked away.
But Mayu's slap would surely wake me up again, so that wouldn't be allowed. If I told her I couldn't open my eyes, she might resort to burning my eyelashes. I'm not the type who'd be fine even if my eyes started burning with fire like in some baseball manga, or so I should be. I'm not a hot-blooded character, after all; my normal temperature is low too. My little sister was the same; her activity would plummet the moment her temperature rose even slightly.
Though, even then, my sister never chose to just lie quietly in her futon; she'd make me carry her on my back and go out hunting.

Putting that aside, the pain in my eyeballs had subsided somewhat, so I opened my eyelids and looked up at the TV again. A local TV program was once again covering the murder case of the high school girl from a few days ago. They were repeatedly explaining the victim's movements until she went missing and the location of the crime scene.
I'd already confirmed that much two or three times through the TV. It was like a review.
After that, citing consideration of resentment as a motive, they broadcast interviews with classmates about the high school girl's usual school life. I recognized one of the students caught by the news crew near the school gate in the evening. It was a girl who'd been in the table tennis club until this summer. I once watched the victim play a match against that girl, where she hit home run after home run, ending it in a called game. After the match, she'd made the excuse, "Tooru was watching, so I got a bit too fired up, ssu."
The girl, surrounded by the news crew, spoke about the high school girl's personality in a safe, unremarkable way. Nothing interesting, no episodes that would make the high school girl memorable, was mentioned. "She was bright and a good kid, I never thought she was the type to get involved in an incident. So, I'm very surprised this happened." These were expressions a complete stranger could utter just by glancing at a photo of the girl from when she was alive, and yet, this is how the victim's connection to the case is explained. People who become victims in incidents are usually decent folks without any particular sordid history, so what's there to be surprised about? Because of this kind of reporting, we can't even sympathize with the victim through the TV. They should introduce the high school girl with content that makes you feel her daily life more intimately. She herself seemed to be bothered by her plainness, so being featured prominently might serve as a memorial for her... or maybe not.
In the end, I conclude they don't need to cover it over and over. It's not much different from grave robbing. I have no particular thoughts on this matter. Really, none. So I'm fine. ......Hmm? Then, there's no problem with it being reported, is there? My opinion did a few flip-flops, but I've ended up concluding it doesn't really matter. After building it up with "in the end" and stating it definitively, this is pretty uncool. If you could just think of my opinions as having nothing solid to them, like a squishy jellyfish being grabbed, I'd appreciate it going forward.

......Well then. Eating silently and diligently is polite, but having a lively conversation makes one feel more rewarded. Since I've just acquired some material for small talk, let's try it out right away.
I spoke to Mayu, whose chopsticks were moving faster now that the vegetable inventory on her plate had decreased.
"Maa-chan."
"What?"
"That girl who was killed, you know, we saw it on TV together the other day. Do you remember her?"
I meant to ask if she "remembered" in two senses of the word. Without even looking at me, Mayu replied, "Don't know her." Her voice quality produced the sensation of touching a reptile's back, of making contact with a non-human creature. Mayu shredded the pineapple from her sweet and sour pork with her chopsticks before looking up.
Deviating from her carefree personality, Misono Mayu's "eighteen-year-old" gaze pierced through me.
"What about that woman? She has nothing to do with Mii-kun and me, right?"
She has a lot to do with us. "Well, I guess you're right." She's the person who defined our lives.
"Then don't talk about a woman like that."
With a menacing attitude, Mayu rebuked me for my inability to read the room. "Sorry, sorry," I apologized quickly, moved to tears by how Mayu had grown, trying to resolve things with words before resorting to stabbing with her chopsticks. That part about being moved to tears is a lie. I was saved by the fact that Mayu's chopsticks were stuck in the pineapple.
However, it's not that she doesn't know the murdered high school girl, but rather that she has no interest. Truly. I don't really have any either. Since I'm fine, she basically doesn't exist. But Mayu is even more so than me.
As I nibbled on the fried chicken, which had gotten soggy with moisture over time, I accepted that this, too, made sense.
If Mayu were, for example, sane, and her thoughts were perfectly organized.
If she were being hounded by the truth for the rest of her life.
She might even feel a sense of "serves you right" towards Nagase's mutilated corpse. Because Nagase was, in a way, an accomplice. She herself had been troubled by it. I just wondered if, at the very end, she might have thought that treatment was her "punishment." Other than that, I feel nothing, not even regret.
Though I do regret that, due to my sluggish chopstick movements, the steam from the miso soup has vanished.
As for the rice bowl, I actually prefer cold rice as it tastes sweeter and more delicious, so I rather welcome it.
...
And so, the night deepens.
Will the day end just like this, I wonder?

My body, which is losing its sense of date, doesn't feel like it can accurately greet tomorrow. Day by day, the fog that hovers five centimeters in front of my forehead is expanding its range. Just like someone who doesn't know how to read a clock cannot follow the time of human society.
Will I be able to consciously make the transition from yesterday to today, from today to tomorrow?
"......Well," whatever happens.
I have won another day of normalcy, so they say.
And then, the next day, I learned that someone I knew had been killed again.

Chapter 2: "I Want to Mourn You in This Town -memories-"
"My Future Self"
Sakura Class, Amano XX-ne
i'm gonna leave that kinda house and live a more fun life.

A shadow covered my eyelids, so "I" opened my eyes. A sleepy-eyed Maa-chan was peering down at me.
"Hmph!" Mayu grunted, dissatisfied with how easily my eyelids had opened. "Good morning, Maa-chan."
It seemed Maa-chan wanted to boast about waking up before me, but unfortunately, I hadn't slept a wink. I'd merely had my eyes closed. I got tired of it because when I kept them open, I saw all sorts of dead people. There was one particularly persistent fellow who was trying to gouge out my eyeballs.
The world is shaped by an individual's mind. So, if I were to perceive that a ghost had severed my optic nerves, these eyes would likely see nothing. The mind is all-powerful, but for that very reason, if manipulated by others, it can be intruded upon indefinitely. Not that I think my mind, shallow and full of dead ends as it is, is worth peeking into. Ghosts must be incredibly bored and starved for entertainment, I suppose.
If that's the case, then "Aah, I don't wanna die~." I don't understand a single bit of what suicidal people feel. My world is so full of the entertainment that is Maa-chan that the possibility of falling into negative thoughts like wanting to die is less likely than a small meteorite hitting Earth. It is, it is! "Mmm, Mii-kun, what's wrong?" Maa-chan rubbed her eyes, peering at me. But there's nothing to see, normally. It's like laying out a sheet at an antique market without any goods. Incidentally, new stock arrivals are eternally undecided, which in a way means it *is* decided. It's quite refreshing when something is so set in stone that it can't be overturned. Even though my head is fuzzy and the fog is terrible, what a wonderfully clear feeling this is.
It feels like I caught fresh spring water with my right nostril and birthed a new god from my left. Right now, inefficiently, dancing in the sky for just a few seconds would be easier than cleaning my ears, a piece of cake.
......But, huh, huh? This is kinda weird.
I was sure I'd been awake the whole time, but my memory of that period is missing, isn't it? It wasn't like the hands of the clock were turning, but more like the clock itself was spinning round and round—that's how time felt. I'm getting caught up in Earth's rotation more than necessary. "Aah~" My eyes are spinning. "Ooh~" My tongue is spinning too. Too. "Ooh~" My tongue is spinning. "Eeh~" Spinning with Mayu. "Ohh~" The bed is spinning too. Well, the apart— "Ohh~" The bed is spinning too. Well, the apart—a room you shouldn't enter.
I felt a pang of guilt for leaving out "Eee." That's a lie, though, th-though, though.
Oh well. If you live life too seriously, the water mirror created by the fresh spring will evaporate from your nostrils.
To peacefully pass the ceaselessly flowing time with a serene heart. Is there any greater happiness in this world?
Ah, right, right, I tried to make "I was dreaming" the reason for my memory loss. And I did. The dream was about going crayfish fishing with my little sister and mother. Or rather, I just repurposed a past memory.
Oh well, it was a refreshing dream. Though it ended with my little sister, who was secretly holding a crayfish-stomping contest, mistaking me for a crayfish and kicking me to bits, it was a muddy yet refreshing end.

"Nya~." Feeling refreshed, I tried pouncing on Maa-chan. I pride myself on being a dog, or rather, a cat. Of course, that's a lie. So much so it makes me want to puke! I'm an insect, obviously. And an ant at that. In-ant. To go inside an ant. The Incite Mill, minus n. That's how others evaluate me.
"Is Mii-kun feeling like a clingy boy today?" Maa-chan happily stroked my hair as I clung to her torso, accepting me. It was nothing like the gentle touch used to soothe a baby; it was a rough stroking, with no consideration for strength whatsoever. But since I'm a masochist, that was the correct way to treat me. I gladly accepted being played with so vigorously that parts of my hair threatened to become a barren wasteland, and I clung even tighter to Maa-chan. I deeply reflected that lately, I hadn't had enough contact with Maa-chan and hadn't been Mii-kun-Mii-kun enough. That's why I decided to play the part of Mii-kun today without a moment's gap. Isn't it fine to have a day like this, seeking trivial stimulation amidst peaceful everyday life? No, the world is certainly noisy with talk of murder and whatnot, but that has nothing to do with the apartment where Maa-chan and I live, does it? It's not like we're in a residential area where warnings are circulated on a neighborhood memo, so I wish people wouldn't bring that kind of neighborly association to us.
"It seems Mii-kun has caught Maa-chan disease overnight~," Maa-chan grinned.
"Aah, I'll take that diagnosis. I want to get infected like crazy."
"Fufufu, feel free to catch it to your heart's content! And then Maa-chan will catch Mii-kun disease."
"Now we're both sick, huh~."
"Ahaha~."
"Ufufu~."
We always were~.

While I clung to her, Maa-chan twisted her body. Changing her posture, Maa-chan ended up hugging me back. Even without saying it colloquially, I can't think of anything other than embracing. "Huggy-huggy." "Squeezy-squeezy."
It developed into a contest of who could hug tighter. "Unyunyunyunyu," Maa-chan contorted her soft cheeks to her heart's content, rubbing her face against my shoulder and neck. I pressed my arms firmly against Maa-chan's thin waist, "Fumomomomomo," and we pressed our stomachs together competitively.
Squeezing tightly, our bodies touching almost to the point of being an obstruction, Maa-chan's and my bones started creaking and cracking in various places. It's not that they lack grit; they're just humming a song of joy. The sweat born from the stifling heat is equivalent to tears of the heart. It's unfair that only eyeballs can cry—my stuffy nose and such seem about to lodge a complaint. Hmm... Oooh, a stuffy nose. Could it be I caught a cold? No, this is the first symptom of Maa-chan disease, a process where, delirious with fever, my vision is set to distort when I look at anything other than Maa-chan—it's a fabrication, a dream, though. But if I concentrate hard enough, my eyes might just get modified that way. If the mind creates the world, then I should be able to approach Maa-chan's domain. It's strange even to me why I haven't aimed for that until now, but hey, isn't it fine to just become one with Maa-chan already? No, no, saying "already"—it's not like anything particularly significant happened, so giving a formal-sounding preamble is illegal. It feels like it would violate Article 3 or so of the Maa-chan Land treaty. Mii-kun must not live suggestively; his actions and thoughts are to be suppressed, and he's to live an easy life~.

"Let's not go to school today, let's stay together fooorever~. I'll stay with you, okay~." Pat, pat, scrunch, scrunch. She rolled me around in her hands, like turning over a loofah sponge.
"No, I'm going to school." Only on this point did I naturally resist. "Moki!! Don't go back!! Mii-kun has to maintain his little-dummy status, or it's no good!" Thump, thump, she repeatedly pummeled the side of my head. I was beaten just right, moderately exhilarated, and a coarse heat radiated from all over my body.
But I had no intention of bending this assertion. Even if it were a winding road, I'd jump the guardrail and pierce through to anywhere. For the current me, it was as if there were no roads. I'm free~.
"I go to school because I'm a student." This is a rationale that approaches the truth by the shortest path. "Mii-kun is Mii-kun, so he stays by Maa-chan's side"—it's also a rationale to affirm that. Not that I need to affirm it, as Maa-chan is blooming riotously in the flower garden of my mind, but still, to silence my anxious brain, I needed a motive. A tenacious motive that wouldn't bend even if *that call* came. "And so, I'm getting ready."
"Adamantly refuse!" While still holding Maa-chan, I rolled off the bed. Of course, using myself as a cushion.
"Yes, yeees, we're going~."
"Ugi!! Don't abduct Maa-chan!!" We moved by rolling sideways across the floor. "What's the point of going to school anyway!! Maa-chan's bored, and I don't wanna be separated from Mii-kun."
"Sorry~. But I'm going to start scattering Maa-chan germs and begin the Worldwide Mii-kun Plan!"
It's the worst when you don't want something to be a lie, but it's impossible to achieve, so it ends up being false, isn't it?
It's the kind of lie even I don't want to tell.

But still, something's weird, huh. The world is strangely simple. The background is blurred, like a watercolor painting that hasn't dried properly, and the color scheme is lacking. It definitely doesn't look like they used any lemon yellow.
Is lack of sleep the cause, I wonder? Am I going to start seeing white crocodiles soon?
Well, I'm basically clinging to an ambiguous existence and misrepresenting myself, so wandering through a world depicted like this is probably my natural environment, but still... It has a certain flavor, but it's harsh on the eyes, like staring at bright red pickled ginger full of artificial coloring. Lately, I've been having nothing but problems with my eyeballs.

We arrive at the entryway by rolling like stick figures. It's too much trouble, so I guess I don't need to change clothes. School teachers publicly state that one should polish what's inside, so even if I neglect my appearance, they should evaluate my inner self with solemn eyes. Being able to see the yolk deep within the white without cracking the egg is what makes an adult. Before putting on my shoes, while thoroughly enjoying Maa-chan thrashing about yelling "Mugyooo!", I close my eyes. After returning, I cover time further with my palm. Correcting the reddish-white heat reflected at the edges, I take the memories, seeping like sweat, one by one into my hands and examine them.
"Aay Bee Cee Dee Eee," someone's muttered voice echoes.
It was okay.
I haven't forgotten anything up to yesterday.
And feeling a sense of déjà vu at this very moment, I am relieved from the bottom of my heart. Ah, I'm able to repeat my daily life.

Though I'm now the foremost leader of the Maa-chan faction, (another one who stands out is a classmate whose name, Inazawa or Inagawa or something, is so vague it's not even in history textbooks, let alone the phone book, and this guy is such a refreshing bastard, as if to surpass the exhilarating feeling I currently have from smashing my head repeatedly against the ceiling, and to describe that refreshingness, it's comparable to the feeling of washing your face with cold water in the first-floor washroom after pulling an all-nighter to finish a manuscript, but this man, who feigns the air of a fine young lad from whose pimples lightly pickled cucumbers might sprout, is stalking Maa-chan with the poorly substantiated motive of being "attracted to her innocence," making him a great enemy of humanity—though, even if humans existed on Earth in such numbers as to become preserved food, the Mii-kun species and Maa-chan species are currently almost non-existent, so he's an enemy of a rather limited segment of humanity, let me add that supplementary explanation about his pettiness) .........Huh, what was I talking about? While my shoulder was being repeatedly tapped by this annotation, the conversational furoshiki I was trying to spread got blown away by the wind to who-knows-where.
I hesitated whether to pick it up, but I decided to let it go and concluded I should think about something else. Honestly, it doesn't really maaaatter, you know~. Things like NAGOSE, I can't find any meaning in making that the main topic of conversation right now.

Arriving at school, tangling my feet with Maa-chan and such, I tried to enter the classroom in my plain clothes, only to be scolded by the teacher who was in the middle of class. Without showing any inclination to gauge my inner self, I was summarily dismissed. My plan failed, and I was disappointed. In myself.
I'm a crab shell, with nothing inside worth evaluating. I have legs, but no insides, so even if you break the shell, you'll just drop your shoulders in disappointment. The teacher probably doesn't even glance at me because they're fully aware of all this. Humans, when they live long enough, develop the ability to see through to the true nature of things, I suppose. That's a lie, though.
Incidentally, I can see through my own lies!
Ah, and also, I'd forgotten one more important thing. What do you know, there's gym class today! Meaning, since we didn't bring our gym clothes, we wouldn't have been able to participate in class anyway. Continuing to attract the attention of my classmates with looks that said "How careless!" or "What a mess!" and interrupting the class became painful in places other than my heart, so I decided to leave the classroom quickly.
When I returned to the hallway, Maa-chan, who had been kicked out of the classroom for similar reasons, was standing there. Though unspoken, we understood each other, and "Kabooom!" the two of us body-slammed each other in the hallway. Reunited with Maa-chan. Entangling ourselves squishily, we descended the stairs, almost tumbling down.