---

---

"All done. Good work, Maa-chan."
I wipe away Mayu's still-flowing tears with my dirt-caked fingers. Mayu laughs, "Hehe," and says, "Next time, let's make big mud dumplings, okay?" making a reservation for mud play. "Sure thing," I reply casually, and take her hand.
In Mayu's right hand, which I held with my left, there was no longer a knife. I grasped it without hesitation, and the two of us descended the mountain.
The sense of accomplishment from having finished the job hasn't quite sunk in yet, perhaps because my clothes are so heavy, soaked with blood.
I'll probably feel it right before I take a bath and get some sleep.
And so, after descending the mountain, we walked along the road for a while, but I ran out of strength partway. I collapsed with a thud at the edge of the road. My grip on Mayu's hand naturally loosened, and it slipped away. I fell forward, *thump*.
My mouth flapped, criticizing myself. When my strength gives out, it's sudden, and what's worse, "That's why it's so nasty. When your knees buckle and you're about to fall, you should be able to break your fall with your arms, but you're completely exhausted, so you have no choice but to accept hitting your chin." It throbbed with a *thwack*, and the vibration traveled to my brain, shaking it. *Gurgle, gurgle*. Like spilling porridge. *Gurgle, gurgle*. I vomited weakly, like spilling porridge.
"Mii-kun? You can't go sleepy-bye here."
"Yeah, I'd like to go home too, if I could."
No good, I can't move a single finger. Every time I breathe, my whole body flares up with heat. I'm probably feeling the heat of my blood circulating. My blood, which was cold just moments ago, is now strangely hot.
Is it because my skin is starting to grow cold? A car with no lights on rushes past, and I want to cover my ears at the sound. But before I can, the sound of tires screeching on the road seems to block out all sensation around my ears, and I can't hear anything. I can only feel my ragged breathing from the movement of my shoulders, and suddenly, reality slips away. It felt like my body's shaking was receiving the shaking of the ground. *Thump*.

*Thump*, I drift into a daze.
Am I going to die here? Dead men tell no tales, so I guess that's fine.
Not lying anymore... that has a certain appeal, doesn't it?
"...Probably a lie, though."
There's no one around. A world of just me and Mayu stretches to the horizon, burning.
So I entrusted the fate of my life entirely to her.
Maa-chan, can you call an ambulance?

The Story of a Lying Boy and a Broken Girl
After reaching a happy ending, what happens to those people?
After the end of happiness, what awaits?
When my story reaches its final end.
There is no "beginning" there.
But I don't despair; I aim for the end.
Because I'm a terrible liar.
Lying that a "beginning" exists is exceedingly simple.
Alright, let's end it.

*Guh.*
My whole body felt like an exhibition of injuries, so I was hospitalized.
I received that explanation three days after regaining consciousness in a hospital bed.
Ever since I was little, I've had an extreme fondness for female doctors, so I'd welcome hospitalization any number of times.

That's a lie, though. What was a lie about that time was the whole thing about there being few female doctors in the hospital—that had to be a lie.
Although, even if I were laid up in a normal hospital, I wouldn't be able to meet the kind of female doctor I like anyway.
...But, the fact that I was saved... I wonder if my final request got through properly.
After being bedridden for so long, my legs had become visibly thin, and I had to stay hospitalized until I needed practice just to walk again. Finally, my body made a decent recovery. It's no exaggeration to say that in the past year, I feel like I've pushed my body harder than in all three years of middle school. I almost want to strike a cool pose and say, "My high school life is seriously insane. Compared to middle school, it's seriously insane."
"What a tough club, this amateur radio club."
I tried blaming it on club activities. In middle school, I was in the go-home club, and in elementary school, I was in the unicycle club.
Incidentally, none of that is a lie. Especially in elementary school, I was pretty much forced into unpopular clubs, going from unicycling to crafts to Hyakunin Isshu. As a result, I learned to ride a unicycle, I can juggle about three beanbags, and I've memorized most of the lower verses of the Hyakunin Isshu poems.
But if you ask me what good any of that is doing me now, well, I can now answer with sparkling eyes that my life has become richer, so it was worth belonging to those clubs. Lie, etcetera, etcetera.
"...Who cares, anyway? Things that don't connect to the present."
I try to raise my right hand, but it just won't work properly. I can barely feel it attached to my body. I knew this would happen, but facing it calmly, it feels a little lonely. It's not that I have no lingering attachment to my right hand. Things I could do with my right hand: ride a unicycle, juggle beanbags, grab Hyakunin Isshu cards. All good things. Ah, what will become of my dull, gray future?
But the truth is, even without my right hand, I can still ride a unicycle, juggle beanbags, and grab cards. My left hand's movements are a bit iffy from overuse too, but I still have it.

"Well then."
I can still hold hands with all my friends around the world.
What's this? It's just a nice turn of events.
So, I'm not particularly despairing about my future life. Incidentally, I have absolutely no plans to hold hands with any friends.
The place for my left hand was already reserved before I was hospitalized.
It's about time I started practicing walking. To return to her side.
The number of people Sugawara killed in this incident was... uh, I forget how many.
There's no doubt they were all acquaintances of mine, but you know, I haven't seen them recently.
Every last one of them was an acquaintance from elementary school.
...Yeah. That idiot killed people like Takeda-kun, and Wakita-san... or was she? Anyway, he started by killing acquaintances like that. Thanks to that, none of my current familiar faces are dead, except for just one person.
You could say it was fortunate that his mind was still half-stuck in elementary school.

Well, the families whose children were killed are undoubtedly miserable. But still, I'm happy, so it can't be helped.
Because happiness continues to shine against a backdrop of misfortune.
It's okay for me to be blessed with this kind of luck once in a while, isn't it?
I lost Nagase. That my misfortune was limited to just that... how lucky I am this time.
That's a lie,
though.
...So that's pretty much how the incident wrapped up. All that's left is for me to get better and leave the hospital, and then everything will surely be resolved.
Three weeks, or a month? During my long hospital stay, I relied completely on my aunt to take care of me. I'm grateful once again that my aunt is someone I can depend on. If, for example, she were the type of aunt who, despite being in her forties, was strangely youthful like a yokai, mischievous, and restless like a child, and if I were pestered by someone like that, the mental strain of being hospitalized would increase exponentially, and I'd probably end up tasting a mouthful of my own blood.
"Well, there's no one like that, I guess. Hahaha."
I laugh cheerfully by myself, facing the window. Only my mouth opens and closes, a bland laugh with no strength in my cheeks. The people in the same hospital room are looking at me creepily. Or rather, one of them is a familiar face. That guy has his leg in a sling, lying in bed all day long,
staring boredly at the TV. Occasionally, we exchange a few words, but it's the kind of subtle distance that ends with "It's been cold lately, huh?" "Yeah," a distance we'll probably maintain from now on. That man, his name is Kane-o.
"Running into each other at the hospital, ah, talk about bad luck."
My mistake, it was Kaneko. Incidentally, that was our conversation on the first day we saw each other in the hospital room. I don't know when it happened, but apparently, he got into a head-on collision with a scooter, broke his leg, and was hospitalized. But thanks to that hospitalization, even though he'd known both me and Sugawara since elementary school, he wasn't killed, so all things considered, he's a lucky guy. He doesn't seem to know much about the recent incident either and appears to be spending his days complaining, "Ah, I'm bored."
Kaneko, however, is relatively unimportant.
One afternoon, I noticed that most of my bandages had been removed, and I could sit on the edge of my bed without getting out of breath. Unusually, I had two visitors in my hospital room.
"Have you finally kicked the bucket, worker ant?"
"...Oh my."
"How are you holding up with this hospital life? That's what I'd like to ask these days."
It wouldn't be particularly unusual if they came one at a time, but seeing them both together might be a rare combination. The ones who came to my hospital room were my nimouto and my Koibi-sensei. Only one of those was a lie.
My sister and Sensei, who arrived at almost the same time, looked up at each other, then down, staring at one another with suspicious eyes that said, "What's with this person?" Come to think of it, do these two not know each other? In the first place, my sister is such a shy person you could count her acquaintances on one hand (let's look at the bigger picture!), and Koibi-sensei is Niihi-sensei. Any further explanation is probably unnecessary. Or rather, if I try, I'll get punched.

Kaneko looks away from the TV and glances over here with a "More visitors?" expression.
My sister is dressed up in clothes with slightly more prominent frilly parts, in warmer colors than usual. She has a doll-like impression, which is why the expression "dressed up" comes to mind. And what's in it, I wonder? She has a heavy-looking shoebox slung over her shoulder by its string, and she's teetering to the left.
Her luggage, something heavy... a zoo penguin? A medium-sized neighborhood dog? Puzzling.
Sensei, on the other hand, was in her usual style of a lab coat over pajamas, but she was also carrying a bundle wrapped in a karakusa-patterned furoshiki on her back. For the first time in my life, I was moved by the sight of someone carrying a furoshiki bundle puffed up roundly like a thief's, but that feeling was fleeting as my imotto came stomping towards me, practically kicking the floor.

"Gehbeh."
That was my groan from being kicked aside as she kicked the floor. The other people in the room are staring wide-eyed at me, suddenly kicked, and at my sister, the kicker. Sensei also went "Hmph," and rubbed her eyelids looking annoyed.
She even yawned; her bloodshot eyes looked incredibly sleepy. Was she up all night gaming again yesterday?
"What's this thing?"
My sister turns and points at Koibi-sensei. With her usual sullen face, I sometimes wonder what on earth she finds enjoyable in life, but since she seems to have fun when she's kicking me or dismembering animals, it's actually not a mystery at all. Anyway, calling her "this thing" is rude.
"What do you mean, 'what'? That's Nii-sensei. Say hello."
"Nii-bi? A foreigner?"
"Who are you calling Niihi? That kid with you, um, which article of law does she violate again? Hold on a sec, I'll check with my police friend."
"No, no, this is my nimouto."
"This one," I say, pulling her torso onto the bed and making her sit. She expresses her displeasure with a face that looks like she's gritting her teeth, "Wh-what are you—!", and my sister turns back to glare at me. But when I place her on my lap, although her lips are still pursed, she somehow calms down. Though when I got carried away and patted her head, she bit my finger.
Meanwhile, Sensei was tilting her head at the mysterious word in my introduction.
"Nimouto? Nimono, uto, Nimo, uto, Nimou, to... no ni, mou toka!"
"What's that?"
"An anagram. 'Kau tomo no ni,' meaning 'if you buy it, it becomes a thing!' So it does lead back to a crime..."
"Sensei, what kind of mystery adventure game were you engrossed in yesterday?"
"How rude! Yesterday it was manga. Kindaichi, the basics. No, really, I would not want to enroll in Fudo High."
She shared her thoughts with a nice smile. I didn't say out loud that our town probably isn't much different.
"So, who is that kid, after all?"
"She's just my sister. A half-sister, that is."
Unfazed, I put my hand on her head. This time, my sister didn't bite. She was just staring intently at Sensei.
"Huh, so you have a little sister. I knew you had an older brother, though—"
"Hmm, hmm," Sensei said, bending down to peer at my sister's face as if examining her. My sister immediately looked away. Sensei, unfazed, kept staring intently at her profile. Perhaps that gaze was making her uncomfortable, as the corner of my sister's eye was twitching.

"This kid gives off the same vibe as me, huh!"
"...You're not far off, I guess."
"Th-this!"
"...Yeah."
"This!"
"That's right."
Despite the age difference, the fact that they're both NEETs doesn't change. And just because she found a kindred spirit doesn't mean she has to point it out with such a proud expression.
My sister looks displeased. But since she usually has a dissatisfied expression, I have no idea what's bothering her. Even if I ask, all I get back is body language, which only confuses me more.
Sensei settles into the folding chair that was prepared, and with my sister still sitting on my lap, the conversation begins.
"What's all that stuff hanging from your left hand? Charms?"
"Oh, these. Boob Ghost, or rather, an acquaintance from my club gives them to me every time she visits."
Since that other visitor uses that term every time she comes, it sort of rubbed off on me. "Ghost"? Seriously, I think, but then again, there's a variety of watermelon called "Ghost Watermelon," so maybe it's fine. Not that it is.
Incidentally, with my wife—no, not Boob Ghost—no, with Fushimi, we had this kind of exchange.
"They call you Boob Ghost, right? Can you touch a ghost? Can I try touching those boobs?"
No, I wouldn't say something like that. Am I an idiot? I thought about it maybe three times, but I didn't say it out loud.
"Thanks for the charms. ...By the way, which shrine are these from?"
Fushimi takes out her notebook. I wondered what she was going to say, and then...
She points to a character in her notebook, her bright red nose and ears seemingly filled with a lifetime's worth of determination and resolve.
She persistently kept pointing at the character "変" (strange/weird). I almost said, "I know," but I couldn't understand what on earth Yuzuyuzu was trying to tell me. Is my hairstyle weird? I touched my head, but there didn't seem to be any noticeable bedhead. Is my face distorted? I checked, but that's just how it always is.
Back then, the cuts from Sugawara and the swelling from Yuna-rin's kick to my face were still pretty bad.
So, back to Fushimi Yuyu-san. I was casually looking at her notebook when I suddenly noticed.
I also simultaneously realized that with Fushimi blushing bright red and closing her eyes on the other side of the notebook, I could probably get away with all sorts of pranks right now, but I put that on hold. I still think it was a missed opportunity.
So, about Fushimi's mysterious pointing, I wondered if maybe she was mistaking it for the character "恋" (love) next to it. But if I pointed that out and she fluently berated me with, "What are you misunderstanding, you seriously gross puke, that's hilarious. Hey, what's that puke saying? Are you a talking Ba--l Slime, you bastard? Just be slimy, go ahead and slip and stick to the floor, should I put a rag on you? Should I stick a 'Puke-Pita' on that narrow forehead of yours?" I felt like I'd writhe in a really bad way, or rather, I'd probably enjoy it, so I refrained.
So yeah, stuff like that happened. It's a lie, needless to say, that my hospital stay was shortened because of Yuzuyuzu. But I was happy she came to visit. She's a good kid, really.

But man, I've got a lot of charms wrapped around here. My hand's about to get congested. And they're all for academic success.
...Come to think of it, that other visitor, Yuna-rin, apparently started some kind of job. She was saying something about playing the piano, which sounds incredibly fishy. Oh well, doesn't matter.
"By the way, what brings you two here?"
Even though visitors to a hospital patient are obviously here to see them, I try asking a rather stupid question.
But their reactions boldly deviated from the usual script.
""What do you mean?"" Their lines overlapped. They glanced at each other for a moment, then spoke without minding.
First, my sister.
"We're going to live together, right?"
Gyaaah! Kaneko's eyes widen. Though only to a degree that isn't overly dramatic.
"Huh? We're getting married, right?"
Gya-gyaah! Last time, I got carried away and laid some outrageous foreshadowing.
"Gya-gya-gyaah!"
I felt like Kaneko was letting out a similar scream. In reality, he's just dumbfounded.
I almost hit the nurse call button. But what would I even report? That the seeds I sowed have grown, and I'm being strangled by that dream? No good, I'd end up having to go to a different hospital.
"Ah, wait a sec, just a moment... Yeah, nope."
I tried to remember if I'd laid any foreshadowing like "Actually, the me back then wasn't me (Tadaaah!)," but there was nothing of the sort. It seems I can't use a substitution jutsu.
"What's this, have you started committing marriage fraud? And after Niihi-sensei finally came out for the first time in a month and a half. I already told Natsuki I'd invite her to the ceremony!" Getting way ahead of herself.

"...Anii-chan lied again."
"No, you see, it's not a lie at the time, but when they all come together, it forms a single painting called 'Lie'..."
What am I saying? Now, what should I do?
"'Of course, it's the promised lie, though.' I'll be killed."
"'I didn't think you'd take it seriously.' I'll be eaten."
"'When should we have the ceremony?' It'll be done to me."
My life was slowly reaching a checkmate. Uwah, if this was going to happen, I shouldn't have run so hard.
That's a lie, though.
If there's just one salvation to be found in this situation...
I'm truly relieved from the bottom of my heart that "she" isn't here.
If she were, I'd probably end up occupying about three hospital beds, hovering between life and death.
Before I could even inhale, my nose was frozen. As a result, only the tip of my nose twitched uselessly, and I could barely breathe.
This year's winter gift quickly made me want to give up on going out. I'm not a big fan of the cold. I'm not good with heat either. Spring brings hay fever, and in autumn, my chestnut allergy gets severe.
About three of those are lies, but the important one is true, which is a problem.
I decided to wear the bright red scarf I bought to match someone.
About another month had passed since the day I was pressed about marriage and living together; it was mid-December. No first snow yet, but it was just bleakly cold. Just being blown by the dry wind felt like it would generate static electricity between my skin and clothes.

I don't remember what happened that day my sister and Koibi-sensei came. But since I'm still alive now, I must have somehow gotten through it. I can't deny the feeling that I've just postponed the problem further, but oh well, let future me deal with it.
"The important thing is to live in the present, after all."
And so, I start walking in the present. I left my uncle's house and wandered out on a weekday afternoon. I've given up on school for this academic year because my attendance is fatally low. I'm slightly pondering studying abroad.
"Future me is going to be in more and more trouble. Man, I don't wanna go to the future."
I'd like to develop a time machine, but I don't have a shed to store it in. I'll give up. In that case, I'd like to dream that my desk drawer will become a time machine, but I don't have a desk. Let's not get my hopes up.

The ground outside is much harder than the hospital floor when I step on it.
I walk along a country road, mustering what little stamina I have left, which has drastically decreased.
The rice paddies flanking the asphalt, which looks like it's turned to dirt, are filled with small, withered grasses left to blacken, and littered with plastic bottles and vinyl. Far off, the greenhouses near the agricultural high school also have holes in their roofs from the wind, looking like they have excellent ventilation. Gazing vaguely at this winter scenery I've seen every year since I started living at my uncle's house, my feet head towards the residential area. The end of my scarf is whipped by the wind, the bright red fabric fluttering. Honestly, it doesn't suit me.
On the way, I passed Fushimi Yuyu's house. I also greeted the wall where she and I had our brief love romance. She's as sturdily built as ever. If possible, I never want to see Yuna-rin again, who witnessed that whole scene. In the first place, even without that reason, we don't want to see each other.
Fushimi is probably at school, so I quickly left her house. I forgot to go say hi after being discharged, so I'll try to stop by again on the next holiday. Until then, I hope she stays well.
"Detours in moderation," I think, correcting my course and continuing on my way. There's probably one more place I should stop by, but I still haven't decided on a reason to go there, what I should do, or what I should acknowledge.
When should I go to Nagase Tooru's grave? I can't think of any words to say once I'm standing there. I want to cry for her, but I've pretty much cried all my tears out, so it's difficult.
I'll visit her once my tear ducts have collected a few more tears.
And when that time comes, I'll lift my unmoving right hand, even if I have to break it, and touch her grave.
Having decided that, I walk on, hunching my shoulders and neck. If a policewoman on duty spots me, I'll probably be taken into protective custody, so I pray I don't run into one. If I do, my finishing move, "Please marry me," is scheduled to roar to life and pierce Jeikomu Natsuki (for some reason, Yuna called her that).
"...Huh?"
It dissipates.
...No, no. What am I going to do if I make things even more unmanageable?
As I crossed the intersection at a red light, jumping the gun a bit, I had a hallucination of a large number of balloons soaring into the sky.

Ignoring the cars coming from both sides, I looked up at the sky. The balloons, dancing against a backdrop of a cloudy, mouse-gray sky that looked like it could rain or snow at any moment, vanished without a trace, as if they had disappeared into another world.
It's foolish to seek understanding from a hallucination, so I won't pursue it, but strangely, I didn't feel bad.

Straightening my slightly hunched back, I jogged towards the residential area.
The apartment building's tasteless color scheme is the same today. They should repaint it.
"I'm planning to repaint it again today, you know," I monologue to the apartment building. Yep, I'm crazy. No wonder I'm parading through town with a hallucination or two in tow, I convinced myself.
I pass through the automatic doors and enter the apartment building's lobby. The towering pillars seem to function as blocks of cold air, keeping the indoors at a constant low temperature. With every step, a fresh, bone-chilling air that reaches the root of my tongue clings to me. Shaking it off, I get into the elevator and head for the fourth floor.
Entrusting myself to the rectangular space and the sensation of defying gravity, I let my thoughts drift to the future that awaits. After this, I will reunite with "her." If the idea that there's a God who decides everything, or that the future is entirely predetermined, isn't correct, then my own will must be there. By my own will, I will repeat it again.
"What an idiot."
Even after learning, I only choose the same option.
As I mutter while looking up at the ceiling, the elevator arrives at the fourth floor. The idiot gets off. Though the air in the hallway sends a chill down my spine, I push it away and desperately stretch. I take two deep breaths.
Perhaps due to all the walking, the back of my nose has cleared up somewhat, and I can take in air.
The oxygen that enters mingles with the palpitations of my heart and wanders around inside my body.
"Ahem, cough."
A deliberate cough. And then, I speak to myself, haltingly, like a narrator.
What begins from here is a story solely for me and her to become happy. We can't save the Earth, the future isn't guaranteed, and surely nothing has been resolved. "Happily ever after" won't arrive until the moment of our deaths, and I can't even imagine how much malice awaits us from here on, but a life where danger strikes about once every three days probably waits on the other side of that door.
In other words, no one but me and her can become happy.
Some will die, some will be killed. And I'll be busy crying or breaking down over it. Perhaps I, too, will lose sight of happiness moment by moment, catch the Unhappy-Unhappy disease, and reach a dead end.
Even so, I come here like this. Carrying a red scarf, enduring the cold.
I will continue to whisper lies to her, the kind born from a clumsy but persistent affection.
Why, you ask?
May the wisdom of our predecessors, who summed up such troublesome motivations in just two characters, be blessed.
"...It's 'ai', yeah. The payment will be 'love,' is that the feel?"
Softly, in a small voice. After muttering "those words," as if to make even the malicious god inside me miss them.