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Visiting my mother's grave. Visiting my older brother's grave. Visiting my little sister's mother's grave. Visiting Maa-chan's parents' graves. Visiting Yamana-san's grave. And, starting next year, visiting her grave will be added to the list. If I've got this much business at graveyards, wouldn't it just be quicker if I got into a grave myself? Should I just die?

"Don't you go killing yourself," I was told just recently at the hotel. I'm under no obligation to follow that. "You're going to kill yourself," I was told when I was just a boy. I'm under no obligation to carry that out. But I wonder if one of them is the right answer for me. Will I go on living like this, without killing myself, or will I dive into a crowd of so many corpses I won't even know who I'm following? I don't want to choose either. I don't want to be present when the choice is made. Decide for me, and then I'll just be swept along. I'll let myself be completely swept away.

I can't stop time. Or can I really not? It's true that we're still piling up one second after another, no doubt about it. Time, as if to show off, doesn't allow itself to be stopped. But that alone can't prove the world isn't looping. The reason I feel like it's the same unchanging daily life, isn't it because I'm truly repeating the same day over and over? Maybe it's something like, she, or someone, used their dying love-power to grant me a grace period until the moment of choice? Yeah, that actually sounds about right.

Oh, I see. If that's the case, then I can just live carefree.
Shouldn't I just live more peacefully, just as I please?
Yes, I figured it out! It's thanks to all those headache pills I took earlier! I feel like I'm going to realize more, waaaay more truths of the world from now on. Tonight's an all-nighter!
"Dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dot dot."
The truth is, I only started hating this town very recently.
But the reason why, I won't tell anyone, no matter who they are.
As I spin these lies into my memories of my old girlfriend (when she was alive), I'm letting Maa-chan use my arm as a pillow. That's why I'm unfaithful!
Regular report.
Someone in town was killed again today!
Ping! That makes three!
Two more for bingo!

Chapter 3: "Beneath a Despair That Seems About to Fall -please give me wings-"
"My Future Self"
Year 3, Class 1, Sakashita Koibi

Everyone in my family is a doctor, so I think I'll become a doctor too.
I think I'll probably become a suuuper doctor. I have no basis for that.
I'll be like Dr. Black Jack, and I think they'll shorten it and call me Dr. Bra-Ja or something.
That's a little embarrassing. But I want to save a whole lot of people, just like that!
Lately, my dad's been looking really down, so when I become a doctor, I want to make him better first.
My dad's shy, so he'll probably resist, but I'll ignore that.
I got a hundred on my science test the other day, so I think I'm suited for studying the human body.
I just wanted to brag a little there. Wahahahaha.
So, that settles it, my future self will be a doctor.

I think I'll be working super hard every day and won't have time for things like marriage.

Our world is currently experiencing an unprecedented novelization phenomenon.
"W-What did you say?!" Do you understand what I'm trying to say? Understand it. If you envision it, it becomes reality. I'm about to explain such a truth of the world, so I want you to understand it before I even speak. But, due to page count constraints, I have to spell out the explanation. Actually, don't understand. Think about your earholes. Create, describe. Alright, I'm gonna say it!
This world we exist in is a novel. I'm nothing more than one of the characters depicted within this novel world. Last night, my brain hurt so much, so after I feasted on a ton of headache medicine, the world suddenly felt lighter, and I reached the truth up in the heavens. This is why adults preach about the importance of looking at yourself objectively; it was all a groundwork for taking the world into your own hands. Was the world always paper, and have we always been living this flexibly between its flimsy heaven and earth? No, that's not it.
This is a novelization phenomenon. The idea that we were creations from the start isn't trendy these days. We, who were once flesh-and-blood humans, are being encroached upon by a novel – that's the preferred development. Our bodies were stolen, and yes, we became human characters. That is the truth of this world.
But I don't know if this realization of the truth is actually becoming text. Am I the protagonist, or the narrator, or, no, to match the work's tendency, perhaps the *deceiving* narrator? If I haven't been appointed to that role, my thoughts won't be transmitted anywhere in the world. In fact, if I'm not being described, I don't even know if I truly have a part to play.
But I have the right to speak the truth. About as much right as a lawyer.
The world is made of descriptions.
Emphasizing things with "quotes" makes them stand out more on the page, but I'll deliberately go against that description. This is an experiment. If the world truly is a novel made up of descriptions, then I should also have the ability to control those descriptions! That's what I thought! And precisely because I thought that, I transmitted it to the world in the form of a description, and thus I gained that power. Let's try it out.
Nagase came back to life. Nagase came back to life. Nagase came back to life. Nagase came back to life. Nagase came back to life. Nagase came back to life. Nagase came back to life. Nagase came back to life. She came back to life too much and it was Nagases everywhere, so, deleted. I used a magic effective against one group (it's a novel, so it's hard to use direct nouns!) to burn all the Nagases to a crisp. Crap, they all died! I should've split them up! I should've grouped them into Nagase A-G and H! If it was gonna be like this, I should've just obliterated them all with an explosion spell. Look, all these burnt Nagase corpses are lying around. Whose fault is this, making me a murderer!
I covered Nagase. Covered her with an aurora-like cloth. She became divine, so Nagase said thanks. Even if it's a corpse, if I describe it, I can make it spout out sentences exactly as I think them. Description is too amazing. With this, it's goodbye to the days of longing for the contents of a 4D pocket. A-BA-YO! Heave-ho! Yeah!

So, from now on, I think I'll live by piling up tons of descriptions and shape the world as I desire. The hero route, standing up to stop the novelization phenomenon, is hard to give up, but unfortunately, I'm busy, you see. Besides, I also have this feeling that I want to witness where this novelization phenomenon will end up. When we completely assimilate with paper, and all description is left to others, where will our will go? I want to know that. So I'll just let things take their course, and have more and more people get killed.
It's fiiiine, I've learned a resurrection spell, so we can avoid total annihilation. But if there's a description of me being killed, then yup, that's the end of it. In that case, I guess I'll need to replicate myself two or three times. There I was. Right in front of me. A me, loyal to me. ...My name? Do I need a name? When creating a new me, it seems I can't be registered as "Boku." This is a problem. A rule has been added that I can't describe my own name. Could it be that this was put in place, anticipating and to prevent any insurance against this phenomenon? Then, is the mastermind Nimou's mother? I'll have to bring her back to life once and ask for details. If having the dead overrun the world is inconvenient, I can just have her die again... Ah, wait, no, that's no good. No. No matter how many times I can bring her back to life, the fact that I killed her doesn't change one bit. I'd hate it if she ended up hating me even more. I can also make the other person like me. But the fact that I was hated wouldn't change. I can't overwrite my own memories. Why? Because I can't describe myself, because of my name. Who could have imagined that this would act as a deterrent to the fact that I was the one who noticed the novelization phenomenon?
Well, you know, eventually it'll be unlocked and manifest as a hidden power while I'm fighting a strong enemy. It's easy for recent protagonists, not having to do special training like jumping off waterfalls, huh.
Besides, if I don't describe things properly, even the Earth will start to exist only as a part of this town. No, even the universe will disappear. Living in paper, in a world of text, that's what it means. The law of conservation of mass has collapsed, and there's only one new law governing the world: "Whatever is written on paper becomes absolute." Nothing that happens anymore is worth being surprised about. No matter how many people close to me die, disappear, fly, or jump, it's not something to grieve or lament.
It's just that someone wished for it. Let's accept it with a tolerant spirit, shall we not?
Now then, in the town where I've been map-placed, three people have already died this month at the hands of a bizarre serial killer, and this is significant. Japan is set to have a population of over 100 million, but as for the living characters in my lying narrative, there are only about twenty. In other words, more than a tenth have been lost. This is a grave situation, yuyuyuyuyuyuyuyuyu. The burden of replacing these lost characters and the repercussions all fall on those of us who haven't exited yet, so it really gets annoying, ssu ne.

Ah! But Fushimi was alive! She's probably still alive. Probably alive, still, still, still, still. Description changes moment by moment with the accumulation of pages. Description is a lifeline, it's everything, it's something organic. Description is infinite! Description is the universe! Without description, our bodies don't exist! So right now, I don't actually have a physical body. Then how am I talking? That's the scary part about first-person novels! Terrifyingly, I have no mass, yet I've been given the role of speaking here!
Am I floating right now? If I omit all description, even that remains uncertain. Freed from the fetters of a physical body, I seem to be in a universe set to zero gravity. Well, but it's convenient, so I'll decide not to set a physical body. Since I don't have vocal cords, my throat won't break no matter how much I scream. I won't repeat Nagase's mistake. No, the meaning is different. The way I'm using "repeat the mistake" is wrong. And it's an insult. Don't mess with me. I won't forgive desecrating Nagase. No, that's a lie. The usual lie. I don't get worked up. However the living treat the dead, that's their prerogative. They say "flog a dead body," but since they're dead, they don't have a sense of pain, which means their readiness to accept it is perfect. They're ready to welcome anything, and I'm the same. I'm a dead person; no matter what happens, no matter what attacks me, I feel nothing, I perceive nothing. That's how it should be. If not, I really will end up even more... finished.
If humans have a self-preservation instinct, it's meaningless if it doesn't work here and now like this. Since improving myself is impossible even as the novelization phenomenon progresses, I have no choice but to rely on the abilities that merely resided in my initial physical body. Ah, I'm so anxious. Maybe if I just went a little crazy, I'd get some peace of mind. But how do you consciously go crazy? Should I just kill someone in the neighborhood? Would that be enough to make me lose my mind? Misono Mayu lost hers, though. That Misono Mayu is still sleeping now, using my arm as a pillow. By the way, waking her up is easy; I just have to describe her as having woken up. Returning Misono Mayu to normal is also easy, but Koibi-sensei would be sad, so I won't do it. I love Sensei. It's that thing called love, with lies as a secret ingredient, ahahahahahahahahahahaha, ahh. Uergh. Wergh, ueriri. Something's wrong with one of my organs. Why, I wonder? I'm living such a regular, healthy life, yet it's like my insides ache from pulling an all-nighter... Ah, I haven't slept in days. Then why was I lying in bed? ...Ah, right. "I was trying to dream."
You know, a dream. A cheerful dream where Misono Mayu keeps shaking maracas, shaka-shaka. A dream without knives. A wholesome dream where only Misono Mayu hurts me. That's what I wanted to see. But I can't control myself, so I never sleep. Well, of course. Even if paper is made from plants, it's not a plant. Living on the page, I'm not equipped with the function of sleep. If I don't describe it, the world's fade-to-black won't come. But I, who am not allowed to describe myself, won't be able to sleep from now on, until the world completely becomes a novel.

Ughhh. Well, who cares about dreams anyway. Dreams aren't reality, you know. We have to live without escaping reality! Don't look away! Alright, self-motivation complete! And yet, for some reason, I can't breathe! My breathing is ragged, like I've been hit where it hurts.
So (I feel like someone just said, "So what?"), if I don't change the scene soon, I can't go to the next place. Like passing a baton, I describe. I woke Misono Mayu and went to school. Okay, end. Next, please.
Attended classes at school. Alright, the description for this paragraph is finished. After this, no matter what I arbitrarily describe, the scene will change. It's like playing catch with a solved Rubik's Cube.
Truth is, I might die within a few minutes, so I was driven by a sense of crisis that I had to change the scene first. Forgive my cowardice.
Dammit. Only at crucial times, nothing is a lie.
Well then. Ah, this is a bit sudden, but as a topic somewhat related to the present, let's talk about the ground. The ground is cold. Even though the late September breeze and the afternoon sunlight, like the hardened dregs of summer, are piercing through me (this is an emotional expression, but it also includes a slight physical aspect), my heat is being stolen by the ground's temperature. And what's more, it would be fine if the ground warmed up from it, but it's like it's illegally dumping that precious heat somewhere unknown. The ground, or rather, the Earth. Yeah, that's right. It's hard to imagine from a rural landscape with sparse Chinese cabbage fields and such, but this ground is also the Earth. When you think about it that way, the Earth is incredibly close. Though looking at astrophotographs taken from space doesn't really make it click. We're always living like circus clowns on a sphere, our undersides glued to it by gravity or attraction. The Earth is amazing, but so are we. Humans are amazing. So, I can understand why the ground is cold. Because space is supposed to be ridiculously cold, so it's no wonder if it gets cold from that influence. Even I would get cold if I were in a refrigerator. In winter, I'd eventually freeze even if it wasn't plugged in. So the Earth isn't bad. There's no problem with providing cold ground to living creatures. But I wonder if it's not tough for animals sensitive to cold.

Also, it must be tough for insects. A fair number of insects rub their bellies when they crawl on the ground. They shouldn't be happy if the ground they're on is finished like a botched piece of ice. Since they're insects, maybe it's better if it's a bit more slippery? My mental structure is supposed to be closer to an insect's than a human's, yet I can't grasp an insect's feelings. Conversely, human hearts are also hard to understand. I'm stuck in the middle, and everything has become opaque.
Digression aside. It seems I don't have much time to be thinking about such things.
Actually, the ground being cold is merely a byproduct of my current worries.
The more troublesome problem is that, fittingly for a worker ant like myself, I'm lying prone on the ground. Perhaps, in this case, I should be thinking about that first.

Right now, on my way home from school, I was lying face down on the cold ground in the middle of the road I usually use as my school route. Gazing at the severed surface of my own right arm, which was right in front of my tilted eyes and nose.
The ground between the place where the flesh was severed and the bone is bright, just like the rest. So that means the light is piercing through me, yup, yup. Ah, the coldness of the ground has been slightly neutralized by blood, though it's limited to my right arm.
Perhaps the reason I feel the ground is cold is due to my physical condition.
"I've come to personally deliver your punishment for breaking the phone meant for mid-term reports."
The one who suddenly attacked me and Misono Mayu stated their motive like that, while stepping on my back. My right arm, which had been tightly gripping Misono Mayu's hand, was cleanly slashed, and the bone is exposed. But more problematic than that is that the red string connecting to Misono Mayu's pinky finger also snapped during the scuffle. Ah, I really should have replaced it with a new string when I noticed.
"Damn, rejecting your precious phone buddy. Do you hate me that much, you bastard?"
Are you trying to spout delusions about being liked, you bastard?
Thanks to losing a large amount of blood, I'm becoming calm. The lonely clamor of the morning is nowhere to be found. My sense of omnipotence is also lost, and with nothing to lean on, it feels like I'm spacewalking.
Uncharacteristically calm, I'm troubled. My daily life has been torn apart. After this, will I be able to go meet someone or go out to eat with Misono Mayu without any trouble? No, it'll be a problem if I can't. My everyday life will collapse. People's deaths and violence are destroying the loop of my daily life. Your appearance is way too sudden; you're not supposed to show up until this scene is over and I'm back in my room, so don't butt in.
Don't destroy the peace I obtained by giving up on so many things and my heart. And hey, hey, it looks like my body temperature is about to be stolen too. Damn it, blood is dripping from the severed surface like meat juice from a hamburger patty. Is this arm still usable?

"Dot... dot... dot... dot..."
Well, but. Probably, I guess. Nagase Tooru and the other people who were killed were probably stripped of their lives suddenly like this, too.
There was also a part of me that resignedly accepted that I had been attacked unreasonably, just like always.
"...Hey, are you listening? Yoohoo." The side of my head is kicked by the toe of a shoe. Apparently, the culprit was saying something. But whether it's their actual voice instead of over the phone, I feel no interest.
More than that, my own calm heart felt empty. Even though three people close to me, including Nagase, had been murdered, and even though their killer kicked me in the side of the head, no anger welled up. When I become the heartless creature I myself sought to be, I tend to immediately deny it. Am I so twisted that I want to kick sand even at my own ideals? What on earth would it take to satisfy me, I wonder.

My heart hurts. It's working so hard to pump out blood, as if it's being rushed to kill me. Conversely, my breathing is stable, so I'm not anxious. Hmm, is it that my breathing isn't ragged because I'm not anxious? So I've made fear my own, huh. A dull heart is useful sometimes. Whoo-whoo, I whistled instead of a fanfare. I have no idea what I'm celebrating, but my whistle wasn't hoarse.
The biggest reason I'm relieved is that no specific harm has come to Misono Mayu. And she doesn't seem to be in a state of utter confusion either. She's staring off at the distant horizon, her eyes unfocused, as if dazed. As if she has no interest in either me or the culprit. Or maybe, she's currently evaluating.
Her reaction when there were two "Mii-kuns" contained unknown variables in the data, after all. It's so different from the reaction I'd predicted beforehand, and that scares me. I feel more fear from that than from the bright red cross-section of my arm, which looks like it would go well with mozzarella cheese. Though there's also an aspect of confirming my relief.
I guess I still want to be Mii-kun. I'm glad I love Misono Mayu.
"Well, see ya. As punishment, I'll be confiscating this kid, but I'll let you live for now."
That Misono Mayu is taken away. I instantly swung my right arm, trying to grab one of their legs. Even though it's injured, it was my dominant arm, so I used it instinctively. If it's just this kind of desperate struggle, I don't intend to lose to anyone in the world. After all, I have no hesitation whatsoever about the mental contradiction of struggling despite having given up. Having no hesitation, in a sense, leads to being the strongest. That's why Misono Mayu, up until now, boasted invincibility as "the one who kills." And so, my struggle was literally kicked aside. The culprit's heel hit my wrist, and it was kicked through. Furthermore, the back of my hand was stomped on, a knife was thrust into it, and it was gouged out, *guri-guri*, like a cross. My groans as if absorbed by the blood, I watched the process unfold, unresponsive. But partway through, thinking, "So this is how they made wounds on Nagase's and the other people's flesh too," I tried to struggle once more. Of course, I was shut down. This time, they aimed for my shoulder, the base of my right arm. *Gnyu,* the sensation of slashing something quite soft was transmitted even to me, the one being carved up.
I mean, why only the right arm? My left arm must be overjoyed.
As if disliking lingering in this place, the culprit hid the withdrawn knife in their clothes and, with the same hand that had been tormenting me, took Misono Mayu's hand. Ah, seeing that, I got a little irritated.
Misono Mayu, unresisting, is led away from this place by the culprit, her eyes vacant.

Because before I was slashed and my actions sealed, the culprit had cast a magic word on her. Of course, Misono Mayu wouldn't resist. Because that's what lies at her very core.
I use and deceive her all the time too, so it's probably wrong of me to hurl resentful words at her retreating back. But I had been hoping just a little... Well, I guess it means it's impossible for me.
But I wanted her to at least glance down at me. Even a contemptuous gaze that would send shivers down my spine, I would have been happy with that in its own way. To me, lying fallen, nothing but a chill is given.
This is bad. I got caught up in a worthless, sudden event. There are actions that can't be completed without Misono Mayu, so there's a possibility it could lead to the collapse of the loop. That means, in other words, the end of "me."
If I end, what then? Who will be the protagonist? Will my doppelgänger make a comeback as the protagonist? Or rather, is that guy still alive in this town? His survival is doubtful on a different vector from my various acquaintances. And it's not as prominent a danger as a murderer, but it attacks consistently.
Well, as for the protagonist change, I'll have a heated debate with myself about it later.
A complaint had arrived from the corner of my brain. I'll deal with that.
What, act with more caution?
I'm just going home from school, why do I need to be cautious?!
What I wish for is a peaceful daily life, and normally, there aren't any bizarre serial killers in it!
Therefore, I have not a single regret in my entire life for not reporting anything to Natsuki-san! Ahyaaa!
"Damn it." Uncharacteristically, a frank word escaped my lips.
...A kidnapped princess, huh.

"Keep apologizing to me in the afterlife, Edase What's-his-face... or something."
The ending doesn't leave a good impression, does it.
I revived. The blood didn't stop and steadily continued to polish death, and furthermore, I wasn't freed from my lifespan, so even if I say revival, it pales before the illness called "senility." But I resumed living. I also resumed dying. Now, what should I do after this?
"Umm..." However, just now, an outrageous incident occurred casually without much preamble, and I probably should be covering what happened before and after it in depth and breadth, but I don't know if an incident like this will happen tomorrow too, so it's hard to incorporate into the daily life descriptions. There's something urging me to cover it, to cover it, but for me, it was more important to worry about who I should meet. I have few acquaintances I can meet casually, I've already "digested" Nimou and Natsuki-san, so what's left is... "Alright, shall I use my trump card?"
She doesn't take a single step out of her house, so it seems okay not to go all the way, but, oh well.
So, the place I headed to was neither the hospital nor Mayu's apartment, but the Sakashita residence. Contrary to its name, it's a high-class residence on top of a slope, and it's white. My image of buildings, when combined with "high-class," transforms into white. Why is that, I wonder? Maybe it's a reaction against my perception of pitch-black basements as vulgar. So perhaps, my eyes perceive the outer wall of the Sakashita residence as white, but that's just my brain judging it so, and in reality, it might be a different color. It's like a simplified version of Misono Mayu's Mii-kun authentication system.