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"It's all her fault."
My sister's to blame. Her not being visible is to blame. No, am I the one who can't see? Then am I to blame? The feel of the bandage denies that possibility.
As I lay on my side, for some reason, several dogs came over to me. Maybe they mistook me for one of their own; they curled up with me. The smell of dog filled the air, and my nose twitched in displeasure.
Unlike my aunt, dogs take to people easily. They adore and obey my aunt as if she were their mother. Does my aunt have a hidden kindness that the dogs instinctively see through? Saying she raises them to eat them might just be an excuse because she can't bring herself to dote on them openly. I didn't know her true feelings. I just think that straightforwardness is something that aunt of mine definitely doesn't possess. In today's world, straightforwardness was something for children. If adults carried it, they'd get hurt.
Because it's not bent, it's lost. Both oneself and the other person feel pain.
For me, the symbol of honesty...
...was, as I thought, my sister.
I gazed for a bit at a tail swaying before my eyes, and before I knew it, my eyelids drooped.
Enveloped in lukewarm air that had passed beyond warmth, my consciousness seeped into the floor.
"Ahhh..."
I want to be a dog.

Chapter 3: "Remember"
I asked various people.
"Are you happy?"
The owner of happy-berry breasts answered, "Well, well," in a hoarse voice.
The boy and girl, now fully grown, smiled vaguely and said, "Probably."
The teacher who wasn't working said, "Happppy," rolling over and scratching the sole of his foot as he lay there.
The detective, still working, coolly replied, "Without a moment's gap."
My sister... "Grrr," she bit me.
I didn't ask the down-and-out pianist, but he answered on his own, feigning indifference, "No, not at all."
The people I know, surprisingly, seem to be doing quite well.
I think that's a very wonderful thing. Very.
Finally, I ask her, the one closest to me,
if she's happy.
She throws her arms around me, and I hold her so tightly it hurts—

I've hit someone over the head with a chair before. The other person was an elementary school classmate.
Where she'd heard it, I could only guess it was from rumors and warnings passed down from her parents. I wasn't the kind of elementary schooler who would obediently listen to talk along the lines of, "Don't go near that girl." She immediately started teasing me. She innocently and relentlessly provoked me about my parents.
Naturally, I wasn't the type to get flustered by something like that. I had foreseen that such a time would eventually come and had practiced ignoring it sufficiently. I ignored her and continued reading. However, she persistently clung to me, other kids joined in, the noise amplified, and around the time the insults extended to my sister, my consciousness just... snapped.
It's fine to make fun of my parents. It's not pleasant to hear, but that's how they've lived their lives. There were joys and sorrows, maybe it was all just tragic, but the fact that they've survived is undeniable. Even between parent and child, each has their own life.
How others judge that, how they evaluate it, I believe is their freedom.

But my sister is different.
My sister is me. And I, too, am equivalent to my sister.
Though our personalities, intellect, and character are worlds apart, there is certainly something we share. That's why.
"No wonder your sister is weird in the head," she said.
There was no way I could stay silent when I was being so casually disparaged.
My sister is certainly an idiot, but she's not crazy.
And neither am I.
I stood up, and as I spun around vigorously, there was an unused chair. I ended up grabbing the edge of its backrest and swinging it. Thinking back now, I'm surprised my small elementary school hands could even grip it. Perhaps the blood rushing to my head stimulated some unknown part of me, unleashing strength. I truly felt blood moving my body.
The person I knocked down got a cut on their temple, and red oozed from it. Even though I swung it, it wasn't with much force, so it probably wasn't a serious injury. However, the classroom erupted into chaos as if a flood had swept through. The girls around, who weren't hurt at all, screamed and glared at me as they fled to the wall. For a moment, I hesitated, wondering if I should go knock them down next.
Someone called the homeroom teacher, and the one who got hit was taken to the nurse's office, crying. I was sent to the staff room. They were apparently calling my parents, and being made to wait made me feel sick. I wanted to escape through the window to the grounds. Before my parents arrived, the homeroom teacher looked at me with a grim face and said,
"If you were a boy, you'd settle this with your fists!"
The one summoned was Father. He had apparently rushed from work. After hearing the situation from the teacher, he apologized, saying, "I'm sorry." Father didn't seem to have as much resistance to bowing his head to people as I did.
He's more of an adult than I am, I suppose.
"Well, well, well," the teacher responded noncommittally. Shortly after, the other parent arrived, accompanied by the kid I had hit. There was an extra adhesive bandage on their temple, and they glared at me with teary eyes.
Do I have to apologize to someone like this? Being sensible can sometimes be a disadvantage.
"I'm so sorry for what happened this time, for such shameful behavior."
The first one to apologize was the other parent. This even took Father by surprise.
"From what I hear, it seems my child started the trouble... and the nature of it, truly..."
She seemed genuinely ashamed, covering her eyes with her hand and sighing.
Her child, dissatisfied with their parent's attitude, pouted with twisted lips and cheeks.
"I'm sorry, okay?" she said, bending her knees to meet my gaze as she apologized. She seemed more like a teacher than my homeroom teacher.
"..."
"Eh?"
Putting aside the annoying kid behind her, I felt I could apologize sincerely to this person.
"I'm sorry for hitting her."
"That's right, violence is not good. But being angry was the right thing to do."
Is that so? I asked with my eyes.
"You got angry for your sister's sake, didn't you?"
Pointed out, I felt my breath catch. I hurriedly tried to deny it.
"It's not like, that or anything."
Before I could finish, Father placed his hand on my head. My parted lips closed.

It probably meant, "Don't say any more."
Since the other party was also satisfied, the pain-sharing, or rather, reconciliation, was amicably concluded.
Even if it was impossible for me and the kid I hit to get along in the future.
"You went wild with a chair?"
"I'm sorry."
Parents and children, huh.
As we left the staff room and walked down the connecting corridor, Father spoke to me. I braced myself, expecting to be scolded, and my shoulders tensed, pressing against the straps of my school bag.
"Somehow, it's nostalgic..."
Father just narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the corridor window.
And then, I went home with Father to our apartment. During that time, Father was silent. He kept his face forward as much as possible, but when we stopped at a traffic light, he closed his eyes and scratched his head as if he was exasperated.
When we reached the entrance to our apartment building, Father apologized to me.
I've been getting nothing but apologies for a while now.
Why Father apologized, I didn't understand at the time. I was just relieved that I wasn't scolded. Father is quiet, but those types of people seem scarier when they get angry.
Come to think of it, shouldn't he be getting back to work? ...Oh well, whatever.
After watching Father walk ahead, I turned around with a "So."
"How rare, for you to be quiet for so long."
My sister, who had been following behind me, smiled brightly and innocently.
My sister hadn't gone home; she had been waiting for us outside the staff room the whole time.
"One mustn't disturb a private family moment, y'knowww."
"You too, right?"
"Aye, aye."
I practically grabbed my sister by the scruff of her neck and headed home.

Huh?
"Yo."
Maybe hitting someone with a chair had cleared my head; I felt sharp. That's what happened.
In the morning, before I left, my aunt re-bandaged my head. It stands out in the classroom, and I really wanted to refuse, but she started changing it without giving me a say, so I just let her. It would be annoying if people mistook it for trying to create a character, and it'd be a pain if they thought I'd gotten into a fight with someone. Oh well, I guess I won't worry about it.
If you just pretend not to see other people, eventually they become irrelevant.
There are more unseen strangers on Earth than seen ones. I just have to think of anything I don't like as one of them.
My great-aunt, passing by, peeked into the room. She frowned slightly at the bandage and my head.
"Try not to end up covered in injuries like your father."
My great-aunt's warning was just one sentence. Then she went back to her clattering cleaning. It seems that in his youth, Father was an injured person acknowledged as such by everyone around him. A truly dishonorable thing.
Come to think of it, I haven't seen Father recently. Haven't even caught a glimpse of him. How peaceful.
Mother, I wonder if she's sleeping soundly today too.
We thought of our mother as Sleeping Beauty. She slept a lot, and well, she was beautiful. But it seems playing a princess outside of a picture book is quite tough. Father carries that toughness as if he enjoys it. He was just a masochist.
After having my bandage rewrapped, I left the house. It was cloudy outside, and rain was forecast for the afternoon, so I carried a folding umbrella. I hope my sister doesn't forget her umbrella either, but I can't remind her about it like I used to.

I walked to school, vaguely imagining I might be attacked by someone again. However, I passed through the main gate without being accosted by anyone in particular and changed into my indoor shoes at the shoe lockers. Perhaps I had arrived a little early; there weren't many other shoes.
Come to think of it, it's a bit late now, but putting aside who the culprit is, why was I hit?
Did an invisible slasher attack indiscriminately, or was I personally targeted? If I were targeted, could it be related to the serial murder case? Far from targeting those around me, maybe I finally became the target. If so, if Yuna-san hadn't been there at that time, would I have been killed?
I pondered for a bit whether to thank her if I met her next.

"What's that?"
"Hm?"
"Oh, this."
"My head suddenly swelled up. The day of explosion is near."
"Heh."
The girl tilted her head slightly and gave a wry smile as if she understood.
"Ah, sorry, my mistake. You're the older sister."
"Well."
From the way she spoke, she seemed to be my sister's friend. But it's rare for someone to mistake me for my sister.
We're in the same grade and should have matching uniforms, yet she mistook us.
"We don't look alike, do we?"
"You think so? I think you look quite similar. Though you do seem much more mature than her."
"Well, I'm nearsighted, so I can't tell the fine details."
"I see."
That's what I thought. And since she's not my friend, there's no need to talk anymore. I put on my indoor shoes and started to head quickly to the classroom. But, halfway there, I had a thought and turned back.
"You're my sister's friend, right?"
I don't even know her name. My sister's friend affirmed while taking out her indoor shoes.
"If you see my sister, tell her not to get too carried away."
"Got it."
At first, my sister's friend looked at me with wide, puzzled eyes. I suppose that's understandable. I should just tell her myself, something like that. But because I can't do it myself, I'm entrusting it to her.
I sensed an atmosphere of, "I don't really get it, but I should probably just say 'yes.'"
"Oh well," I said, parting ways with her and heading up the stairs.
At school, I spent the day quietly as usual. When I entered the classroom, I felt several people looking at my head, but I kept my head down and ignored them. No one forcefully approached me to ask about it. It was peaceful.
Don't be capricious.
After school, before leaving the classroom, I stuck close to the window. I checked the main gate, and seeing no yukata, I left the classroom relieved. If I were ambushed again today, somehow, I wouldn't want to meet her straightforwardly. Even after leaving the school building and actually reaching the main gate, I scanned my surroundings. The conspicuous one in purple... not here. I quickly left the school and went straight home without any detours. Come to think of it, I didn't get hit today, I remembered after getting home. Maybe I was just knocked down by someone's momentary whim.
After greeting my aunt, who was playing with the brown dog nicknamed "Misozuke" out back, I went up to my room.

As I climbed the stairs, I thought again, how peaceful. Nothing happens. There's nothing at all.

Are peace and nothingness the same thing?
The line is blurry.
Father, Mother, sister, a few acquaintances.
Many things have been lost from around me.
Next, is it my turn?
"...Maybe not bad."
"Yes."
Elbows, arms, head. Shoulders, torso. There are times when everything feels heavy, constricting.
At times like that, I'd wish I could just poof, disappear, and become light.
But no matter how much I wished, people don't just evaporate, and the oppressive days continue.
Something happened a week after that.
The sky smoldered, stretching out dark clouds. I walked, looking up at the bumpy clouds that reminded me of the soles of shoes. I couldn't find Nee-sama today, so I was walking home alone.
"Tetterorii~"
"Hello."
"Yessir."
When I'm alone, my chattering subsides. It really is all about having Nee-sama around.
Then, a large shadow, stronger than the clouds, fell over me. I looked up, bending the brim of my hat.
It was the strange old man who had performed a sleight-of-hand trick a few days ago.
Beyond the shadow he cast, his nose and mouth moved softly.
Just like before, we ran into each other in the convenience store parking lot. He had a shopping bag dangling from his wrist.
"Not going home with your older sister today?"
"Today's Nee-sama, y'see..."
"...How do you know that person is Nee-sama?"
My great detective brain sharply pointed out the contradiction. I remembered not calling Nee-sama "Nee-sama" in front of this old man. The old man let out an "Oh?" and his lips loosened in a subtly amused way.
"Because you looked alike. I thought you might be sisters."
"Ehh, no wayyy."
"Hoho."
Nee-sama and I are renowned for not looking alike at all.
"I'm the one who never misses a little liar."
The truth slumbers on the other side of a lie. This old man knows a lot about Nee-sama and me.
In other words, him talking to us wasn't a coincidence.
"At this rate, you'll become a suspicious old man, sir!"
"Is being suspicious no good?"
"Hmm, maybe not bad. Just a little more push."
I glance at his shopping bag.
".........Want some snacks?"
"You've become a good old man!"
Easily lured, I followed him with a "Yahooo~"
We squatted down together behind the convenience store, by a wall where a shadow fell. A soft wind "whooshed," tickling the surface of my ears.
It felt like feathers brushing against my skin and then pulling away.
"Please, take what you like."
"Then I'll take this."
The old man spread the bag open, letting it hang down. I peeked inside, my eyes darting around.
I chose a cup of ice cream. The old man picked a sweet bun and tore open the package.
We sat side by side, munching. But I was gobbling mine down quickly. It was a rich vanilla flavor.
"You don't have to eat it in such a hurry, it won't melt right away."
"No, no, no. If I don't eat it quickly, Nee-sama will find me."
"Is it bad if your sister finds out?"
"She'll get angry enough to melt ice cream."
She'll probably sulk for three hours. And, she'll call me an idiot about a hundred times.
Nee-sama in a super-hustle.
"Getting things from a strange old man is unthinkable for Nee-sama."
"A correct assessment."
"Assessment?"
The old man let out a small sigh and his shoulders drooped.

"I know it might not be convincing, but if a stranger talks to you, you have to run away."
The old man advised me while munching on his sweet bun. His eyes narrowed.
"Even a weird old man like me worries."
"Right now, you're a suspicious old man."
"Ah, my apologies."
"What is it?"
He apologized properly. He was quite a polite suspicious old man.
Come to think of it, Nee-sama has never once apologized to me.
But that's fine, because as my Nee-sama, she hasn't done anything wrong yet.
"There's something I want to ask the suspicious old man."
"Why you approached me and Nee-sama, I'm a little curious about that, y'knowww."
As long as that wasn't resolved, I couldn't just ignore it.
Because he might harm Nee-sama.
"Are you after Nee-sama?"
Since he had asked about Nee-sama's absence first, I easily guessed that might be the case.
The old man, while stuffing his cheek with bread, looked straight ahead.
"And if I were?"
"Then I'd have no choice but to exterminate you, y'knowww."
I brandished my plastic spoon, showing my intent to resist.
Noticing this, the suspicious old man, as if committing an evil deed, looked down on me with a "fufufu" and a fearless smirk.
"What can you do?"
"I'll show you I can do anything."
"Yes, yes."
"Hmm."
I placed a lump of ice cream on my tongue and swallowed it as if rolling it down. My cheeks tightened from the sudden change in temperature. I swallowed it without it fully melting, sharply chilling the path down my throat and stomach, making me squirm. I tried to act cool but failed, so I quietly waited to calm down. Waited, endured, and looked at the old man.
My clenched fist was smaller than the old man's fingers, and judging by the sturdiness of his similarly bent knees, I was no match for him. Even if the old man was picky about his methods, he could easily crush someone like me.
"Of course, I probably can't win, I'll lose, I'll tumble. But, y'see. Ah, can I put my ice cream cup in there?"
After putting the ice cream cup in the bag, I said to the old man.
"In liiife, y'see, the process is what's important."
If you don't stack them well, you can't build a castle with toy blocks. Coincidence will never create the ideal.
That's why the order and placement of things are important.
The result can take shape afterward. The answer lies beyond what is drawn.
"My auntie relative said so."

That's why I'll probably fight to protect Nee-sama.
Since the result was already clear, I had no choice but to focus on the process.
The old man popped the rest of his sweet bun into his mouth. After chewing hard and swallowing, he looked at me.
"Do you like your sister?"
"Yes, yes, sweet, sweet."
The old man closed his eyes as if thinking about something. It seemed as if the coldness of ice cream he wasn't even eating was seeping into him. I also licked the ice cream remaining in the gaps between my molars, savoring the sweetness.
"That's probably one of the things you must cherish in this world."
"That's right, isn't it?"
"Aye, aye."
My world is incredibly small. Just like Kaa-sama's, very much so.
Within it, a single element is treated as so large it bears half the world.

He was quite an understanding old man.
"Little miss, you must take good care of your older sister."
"...Little miss, no matter how tough things get, don't you dare lose."
"I don't have any shiny gold orbs, y'knowww."
"How do you know about that..."
"Ah, Nee-sama's coming."
I looked up, towards the school. The distance wasn't far in a straight line, about two fields away.
The old man, as if drawn along, also looked that way and narrowed his eyes.
"I don't see anyone, though."
"Hmm."
"I just kinda know."
The old man offered me the anpan (sweet bean paste bun) that was left in his bag.
"Share it with your sister, half and half."
"Aye, aye."
"Well then, see you."
Perhaps to avoid meeting Nee-sama, the old man quickly departed. Nee-sama would probably get angrier at me than at the old man, so I was grateful he left. I, too, shouldered my backpack and stepped out of the shadows. After stretching my back in the sunlit parking lot, I waited for Nee-sama to arrive.
In the end, I couldn't ask the old man why he talks to us. The way he broadened the conversation while actually making it vague, he really is a suspicious old man. Next time, I have to peel off his skin and make him an unsuspicious old man. And if he becomes a dangerous old man, I'll think about it then.

That aside, I liked that old man.
The softness of his voice and the casualness of his talk were just right.
And he gave me ice cream and bread.
There was something else that bothered me, but I couldn't remember it right away, so I forgot about it for the time being.
Right.
"And now, hmmm, hmmm."
How should I give Nee-sama the anpan? Knowing Nee-sama, the first thing she'll ask is, "What's this?" If good little me honestly answers that I got it from an old man, I'll be punished.
Honest people basically make enemies. Because they hold their spear straight and pierce their opponent.
"What to do, what to do, what would you do?"
"What are you doing?"
While I was dancing and worrying, Nee-sama arrived. The question "what to do, what to do" burned.
"P-Please accept this."
"What's this?"
I quickly, thrust the anpan at her.
"I bought it! It's a birthday present!"
My lie was instantly seen through, and I got furiously scolded.

While I was aimlessly strolling around since morning, not fulfilling the duties seemingly assigned by my appearance and age, I spotted a familiar face. The other person seemed to have noticed me too, and a half-smile played on her lips at the sight of the metal bat I carried. It was Koujizaka. The one who became my friend solely because I liked her surname.
We ran into each other right in front of the municipal sports ground. Crows were strutting around the empty grounds.
"Kooou-jizaka."
"Don't roll your R's."
"Kouji-kun."
"Don't put me in a robot."
An average girl who returns bland retorts, that's Koujizaka. She's not a bad person.
Not actively a good person either, and that moderation is what's good about her.
"You look as bored as ever."
"You too. It's early, isn't it?"
When we teased each other about the time we met, Koujizaka shrugged.

"I'm in the middle of an errand. Don't lump me in with you."
"I'm in the middle of my daily routine too, y'knowww."
Koujizaka glanced at the metal bat and snorted, "Sandlot baseball? Robbery?" Not far off the mark. Then, as if remembering, she said.
"Oh yeah. Your sister had a message for you, but what was it again?"
"Nee-sama? You met her?"
"Yeah, a little while ago... Hmm, I forgot."
"Useless."
Miffed, Koujizaka pursed her lips.
"Then go ask her yourself."
"If only it were that easy."
She laughed it off in various senses. Koujizaka, perhaps sensing things to some extent, let out a light sigh.
"What weird sisters."
"Yeah, totally."
We are strange sisters. So twisted it's hopeless.
"But 'Nee-sama' is an interesting way to put it, isn't it?"
"Eh, where?"
Where, where, I looked around. The crows had flown off towards the rice paddies in search of earthworms.
"Are you called Imouto-sama?"
Why would "sama" be attached to "little sister"?, I hallucinated Nee-sama's angry voice.
"Nope, 'idiot.'"
Koujizaka brushed it off with a wry smile and an "Oh, right."
The conversation died down, and a peculiar, face-pressing silence filled the air.
It seemed like time to wrap things up.
"Well, I'm off."
"Aye, aye."
"Yeah. I don't know what's up, but good luck."
We gave small waves to each other and parted without any lingering attachment.
Koujizaka doesn't particularly get involved in anything.
She doesn't deeply intrude on life. Inoffensive, a simple passing.
Truly, a momentary intersection.
But that kind of thing, surprisingly, might be something you should really treasure.
"Alright."
Talking to people cheers me up a bit.
Let's use that energy to quickly get my errands done.

"It's been a while, have you been well?"
When I came downstairs in the morning, Yuna-san was drinking tea in the living room. Opposite her, my aunt wore a displeased expression. Though that was usual, the main reason now seemed to be the dogs. One of the dogs was settled by Yuna-san's side. Misozuke had betrayed my aunt.
"...Good morning."
It was a reunion that hadn't been long enough to be called "a while." A week isn't long, nor is it short.
"What are you talking about?"
"I was walking around doing a little research, so I'm late."
Yuna-san put down her teacup. She flashed a grin that was preceded by an unpleasant impression.
"Didn't I tell you? That I'd let you meet your sister."
".........You're joking, right?"
Yuna-san took out an old-fashioned cell phone and showed me the wallpaper in a suggestive way.
With something akin to caution, I peered at it.
An unfamiliar girl... or maybe not young enough to be called a girl? A person was on the screen.
"Fufufu, Watakushi's younger sister."
Her eyes were glaring. Dressed in a tracksuit, she was biting her nails and looking up curiously.
"What about this?"
"I showed you my sister."
"..."
It certainly wouldn't be the first time I've wanted to hit a woman, but it's been a while since I've gone as far as clenching my fists.