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CONTENTS
Spring: When Lies Climb the Stairs
Summer: Friendship Plan
Autumn: The Ant and the Sister's Bicycle Basket
Winter: Happy Child
What if by some very chance
Afterword
If it were a world with unbroken correctness

"Mii-kun, Mii-ki
Mikyuruu. Mikkyuun."

Lying Mii-kun and
Broken Maa-chan (1)
The Formation of Memory is Artificial

Spring: When Lies Climb the Stairs

What I met in spring was.
An adult who taught me how the sky falls.

The April rooftop was full of lukewarm wind.
The glaring afternoon sun felt more like summer, with very little of spring in it.
The wind, running an obstacle course between my skin and clothes, was also gently warm, not quite right for a nap. The swarm of air that passed me flew out erratically through the holes in the chain-link fence beyond my hands and the manga I'd borrowed from Sensei. To the left was the wall of the rooftop entrance, and to the right, it was a dead end enclosed by the fence, so the wind converged, its force intensifying. I resolved in my heart (it's presumptuous to even write it in kanji) to emulate that bravery. That's a lie, though.

"Here... and here too."
I checked the damage on the fence in front of me with both sight and touch. Placing my fingers on the spots where the chain-link knots were broken, I played with them, pushing and pulling, savoring the feeling of a feudal lord enjoying the forest scenery beyond. That's a lie, though. But, hey, what's this? Whoa, my index finger caught on the sharp metal edge. A little blood, blood, blood, blood oozed from the red line. I licked it. Perfect.

A little above the top of my head, the chain-link had been made to stop being a link. It was only partial, but if I pushed the fence hard with my palm, it dented significantly. If I destroyed a bit more of the mesh, I could try a mid-air swim without having to scale the over-three-meter-high fence like a spider. Below was the backyard flowerbed, where Sensei grew and tended to flowers. But now, perhaps because they'd all been picked, only soil was visible, so there'd be no problem making large red flowers bloom there.

".........I wonder who did it."
I couldn't help but murmur at the fence, which clearly showed signs of human intervention. But the wind, seemingly speeding (Sensei apparently got scolded by the police for this the other day), rushed noisily past my ears, and a sound like tinnitus drowned out my whisper.
Given that someone was diligently working on this in a spot hidden around the corner from the rooftop entrance, it was undoubtedly a secret operation. Looking over the entire fence, the black paint was still very much intact, and there was no rust from aging. In other words, the destruction was man-made.
Basically, someone in this hospital is trying hard to commit suicide.

"......I wonder who."
Ame-san (the old lady whose cheeks are always bulging with candy), Jarao-san (the guy in the next room whose shogi pieces rattle), Yamana-san (the person who illegally occupies the TV in the common room)—acquaintances from the hospital floated into my mind, their faces contorted into villainous expressions as potential culprits.

As for myself, the head student (a term I picked up from a borrowed manga), I've already been elevated to prime suicide suspect status, beyond the need for mere speculation.
That's a lie, though.
Because not trying to die is my promise with Sensei.
Whether I'll strictly adhere to it is another matter.

The bundle of paper in my right hand was rustled violently by the wind, audibly protesting its sexual harassment. Probably a lie, but I decided it was about time to head back inside.
While deciding to keep an eye on the fence situation.
I opened the door, went down the stairs, and took a deep breath of the hospital air.
This is a psych— (it's presumptuous to write it in kanji, etc.) hospital, built in a corner of the city.
The boy (whose precious things were eaten by a wolf) doesn't go to elementary school; instead, he's hospitalized, fighting boredom every day.
In the two months since my confinement ended, my enemy has always been time.
And so, on the rooftop, I'd been killing time, engrossed in an experiment to see if people looked like trash from up there.
That's a lie, though.
"......Next time, I should look up the character for 'lie' in the dictionary."

Koibi-sensei didn't come for her break today, so I have to go return the manga directly.
"......Look, it seems you're misunderstanding, but we're a hospital. We're not an educational facility, nor are we an isolation facility; we're a treatment facility. Do you know of any hospital that teaches dynamics to a patient with a broken leg? Of course not! If there was, I would've checked myself in before my entrance exams, seriously! Providing your grandchild with an appropriate education is your responsibility as their guardian. We can't handle complaints brought to us. ......So, you just don't get it, do you? We're not a rehabilitation center. Besides, if her memories were to return, there's a high probability your grandchild's psyche would truly be beyond recovery. Do you still insist we cure her? Unfortunately, it's impossible to bring back the grandchild you're dreaming of, the one who used to be the apple of your eye. Please don't think you can change a person to suit your convenience. ...Huh? Where is Mii-kun, you ask? Your grandchild's social circle is well outside my jurisdiction, wouldn't you say? Even if you say you're looking for him, it's impossible for *that child* to find him. I can see parts of her that are actively rejecting it. Yes, I'm sorry, but we're swamped with work here, to the point where we'd like to borrow your hands. Yes, yes, well then, goodbye."
"Clang!" she said, vocalizing the sound effect as she slammed down the receiver, yanked out the phone cord, wound it around the base, and then, "Hoaaah!" threw it into the corner of the room. *Clatter, crash, bang.*
She's surprisingly aggressive.
Then, after snapping a pair of disposable chopsticks, she made the back of the blue chair creak. She wiped her right ear, where the phone had been pressed, with her palm, and her left hand, while rotating her shoulder, massaged her right shoulder—quite the mutual assistance. That's a lie, though.

"What do they expect from a newbie... Though it does sound like a delicious expression."
"......What kind of reasoning is that?"
"Oh? Since when were you here?"
Sensei finally noticed me standing stock-still at the entrance.
Sensei's desk was by the window in a room otherwise filled with white, except for the contents of the bookshelf. On the desk were chopsticks, snapped and then broken further, on the verge of becoming garbage, and an unopened bento box. Also, the white flowers Sensei had grown and decorated the patient rooms with were slightly wilted.
"Since just before you got really worked up, Sensei."
"Aah, since then? Seriously? Sooo embarrassing."
Sensei, exasperated but still giving a casual response to my half-assed lie. She opened the bento box, which had a "Bargain" sticker on it. Then she beckoned me over, so I also sat down on a chair, facing her.

"You were on the rooftop again today, weren't you? Your hair's messed up by the wind." "Yes." "It's actually off-limits, you know." Sighing, Sensei gripped the broken chopsticks.
"You never get tired of it, do you? Is there something interesting up there?" *Like a fence that's about to be destroyed.* "Were you waiting for me, saying something like, 'Just sunbathing'?" "Was it that obvious?" "Liar." *She saw right through that one.* She glared at me.
"You shouldn't lie about trivial things. Lie about something more important."
I received some unusual advice. But I would later learn that this one remark would change my life. At that moment, I made a firm resolve to one day tell an important, fatal lie and completely astound everyone. Well, that's a lie, though.
Putting that aside, Sensei never calls me by my name. It's always "you," or "boy," or "old man." One of those is a lie, but I'm certainly grateful.
Sensei slipped off her slippers, baring her feet. Her toenails were a little long.
"A reward for you, looking so energetic today. I'll give you a tasty treat."
Sensei, beaming, handed me a small blue jelly cup that was in her bento. Looking at the lid, it had the stylish name "Anemia Flavor." That's a lie, though.
I turned the unappetizingly colored jelly over, examining it, holding it up to the light. Procrastinating eating it like that, I asked a question.
"Sensei." "Hmm?"
"About that phone call just now..."
"They said 'Mii-kun'... was that Mayu-chan?"
Sensei chewed her potato salad before replying, "It's a secret."
"I'll tell you when your life reaches around Part Three."
".........Um, Sensei, your sense of time is a bit too difficult for me to grasp........."
"Hmm, to put it simply, maybe around volume twelve of the manga?"
I'm telling you, I don't get it. In the end, she has no intention of telling me. I decided to think of it that way.

Mayu. Misono Mayu. She said even she couldn't write her family name in kanji.
The girl who was kidnapped by my father. The girl who never left Mii-kun's side, whether she was scared, sleeping, or crying. The girl who forgave the kidnapper's son. The girl my father favored the most.
And the first one among us to break.

I became her doll. I was scared of her. I didn't abandon her.
And yet, despite all that, she didn't remember me.
When I met her in this hospital, outside, not in the basement of my house.
"Who are you?" 'Please don't talk to me.' "It's me, I said." 'That's why I'm saying I don't know you.'
'......No matter how many times you say it, I don't know that name. Besides, why are you throwing up?'
That's a lie, though. I don't really know you, and you don't know me. I'm sorry.
I can't even properly say my own name. First of all, I don't know myself.
A hideous sound, a mixture of "oo," "ah," and "gi," escaped my lips. Even clenching my teeth, the groaning wouldn't stop.
I'm sinking. The bottom of my heart is being forcibly dredged up. This feeling, like someone else is using my eyeballs, I never get used to it, no matter how many times I experience it.
Things I'm equipped with, yet because I'm useless and can't handle them, they're being discarded.
Piled up like mountains, a gathering of foul odors where cleaning never reaches.
My eyes are being squeezed. Lately, I tend to forget how to breathe. Breathing, blinking, and moving my limbs all become disjointed. Being human is difficult for me.
So, one by one. First, I'll remove my hands and feet. Pretend they were never there. Next, I'll forget my eyes.
Now, I have to breathe.
*Suu-haa—... Sususu-haa.*
I managed, albeit clumsily.
With a sense of relief, everything in front of me went dark.

I had stopped living, to the point where I couldn't see anything.
......Or rather, I was physically blocked.
My nose twitched. I smelled a white coat.
The connection was finally re-established.
I got it all back, and when I came to, my face, mixed with sweat and other things, was pressed against Sensei.
And Sensei's hand was patting my back.
"Okay, take a deep breath. Let out all the stagnant stuff."
I obediently followed her instructions. I threw out all my breath and heart, and my body trembled.
This time, I managed it easily. My limbs were dangling, and I blinked, just a little.
I noticed the jelly was crushed in my hand. It stung the cut on my finger, but it felt cool and pleasant.
Being held from the front, the world spun irregularly, and a wave of nausea washed over me. The goosebumps were terrible, and a chill painted over the spring warmth. My weak point, one that even Sensei didn't know about.
"Sensei."
"Hmm?"
Something in my head was telling me that it would be fatal if someone close to me found out about this.
Sensei wiped away my sweat with a handkerchief. For some reason, she roughly wiped even my eyes and nose.
"What you need to do now is get into the habit of waking up in the morning and sleeping at night. Keep your hands full with your own affairs; you don't need to have the leeway to think about others just yet."
Ah, she sees right through me. Everything I was thinking is completely obvious to her.
Adults are truly amazing. My father, too, was adept at doing exactly what people hated.
Sensei and my father were both adults to me, but they were completely different things.

......It's probably a lie anyway, though.
"Can I borrow a new manga?"
I admitted, just a little, that I quite liked this person.
"How about this one?"
"Huh." In the manga Sensei opened, a girl with a beautiful, soft-contoured face, looking utterly unrelated to any end-of-century savior, was monopolizing the entire page.
"I predict this kind of manga is going to be popular. You should get ahead of the trend."
"Alright, but..." I remembered a classmate (an obese kid) who would boast, "I totally knew this would be a hit." That's a lie, though.
"Hmm, dissatisfied?"
"It's not that, can I have some sleeping pills?" Oops, some jargon just slipped out. Is it really jargon?
"I just gave you some the other day, didn't I?"
"Those don't seem to work very well for me. Please grant a patient's request with what's in that pocket."
"I'm not Doraemon, you know! Fine, take them when you absolutely have to."
And so, I left the room, clutching the requested sleeping pills and manga under my arm.

From Sensei's room at the back of the second floor, I walked a bit down the corridor and went up the stairs. All the while, I shook the powder in the packet, enjoying the sound. It kind of looks like roasted flour, but this must be the much-vaunted crystal of chemistry and medicine. Still, it has such an appetizingly fragrant color.
I tucked the medicine into my pocket and walked down the third-floor corridor. In the scenery my left eye was receiving through the window, mountains and power line towers loomed. They were all tall, but climbing them looked easy. It was the same feeling I had when I looked up at the basement ceiling and thought I could easily touch it.
Past the nurse's station, patient rooms continued on the right, and through the open, lockable doorways, I could spot a few familiar faces. I made eye contact with an old man who always talks to me in the cafeteria, so I gave an awkward nod, and he returned a smile that showed his teeth were still very much in service, as I passed by.
My room is on the third floor, near the emergency staircase. And just before it, on the right, is the common room.
In the smoking area-slash-TV room, someone was sitting there as usual.
It was Yamana-san. I don't know the kanji for her name, and it's unclear if it's her given or family name.
Her well-maintained hair hung down, and she was dressed in clean pajamas. But more than anything, her eyes, which shone with a ridiculously brilliant light, defined Yamana-san's entire impression.
Her age is, in this hospital, second youngest after me (self-proclaimed). She's probably around eighteen.
Today, like any other day, she had moved the sofa right in front of the TV and was staring at it intently, as if absorbing the screen with her eyeballs.
I fully acknowledge that I find this person quite disagreeable. That's a lie, though, for the record.
"Hey, boy over there, c'mon, c'mon."
Yamana-san, her gaze fixed on the CRT screen as if her eyes were pinned to it, directed her monologue at me and beckoned.
Ever since she'd turned the TV volume up to max without warning, gotten scolded by the nurses and other patients, and I'd been made an accomplice, watching TV with this person was about as much my strong suit as music. That's a lie, though.

"Oh, you're wary of me. Good, good, boy. You've got tons of potential to become a misanthrope."
After arbitrarily appraising me, she said, "Collateral," and no-look passed the remote to me. Of course, it flew diagonally above me and crash-landed on the floor. I silently picked it up, then, to waste time, I entered the common room and sat on the sofa. I left about two people's worth of space between myself and Yamana-san, and checking behind me, I saw two middle-aged men sitting in the smoking area, exhaling smoke.
"Hey, boy over there. 'Boy's over there' sounds kinda lewd, doesn't it?"
The moment I sat down, Yamana-san said that and laughed mirthlessly. I pretended not to understand and tilted my head, asking, "What 'over there'?"
"So, boy, when are you getting discharged?"
Yamana-san, completely ignoring my reaction, moved on to her question. Turning my gaze from her profile to the TV, I saw some poor brothers doing a dine-and-dash, bolting from a yakiniku restaurant.
"I don't have any particular plans." That's a lie, though. My uncle and aunt told me to come by the second semester.
"Rather, when is it that a boy *like you* gets discharged?"
"There aren't any particular rules." That's a lie, though. Maybe in about two more years.
"I mean, do you even want to be discharged?"
I don't particularly feel like it. ......What should I do? Lie or tell the truth?
Yamana-san doesn't look at me. Yamana-san doesn't stare at people. She only occasionally makes a gesture of looking up when it seems she can confirm a sound with her eyes.
"No way you do. I don't. We're both misanthropes, after all. Though, if anything, I just dislike people's accessories."
"Comrade, comrade," she pestered, offering her left hand for a handshake. I decided to ignore it.
"............Yamana-san, were we twins?"
"My, my, you're playing dumb, aren't you? And here I was, considering the difference in our levels."
Yamana-san's left hand withdrew, her cheek twitching.
"Compared to your life, boy, I'm just like a brat who wails after losing at rock-paper-scissors."
I'm being put down by being elevated. Yamana-san's Japanese continues.
"And you, boy, are wise for your age. That's why there's no way you'd want to go outside."
She praised me, as if adding it on. On the screen, the brothers, having successfully ditched the pursuing yakiniku restaurant owner, were panting, shoulders heaving.
"Inside this hospital, boy, you're just another patient. A patient is just a boy, that's all. But if you go outside, tons of people will be watching the boy who got caught up in a local crime, and from a distance, too. If you're discharged and start going to elementary school, you won't be bullied openly, but you'll definitely be isolated. Kids will fear you or dislike you, or their parents won't let them get close to you."
Yamana-san delivered prophecies to me, as if singing. I knew they would mostly come true. It probably wouldn't be much different from school life after my older brother committed suicide.

"If you go outside, boy, you've become a creature that will inevitably want to die."
She stated it with a smug look. I imitated a TV show I'd seen a few days ago and responded, "That's right." When conversations like this start, for some reason, the inside of my head turns cold. And when I start voicing my own opinions, it gets hot. I hated that.
It felt like I'd lost to something.
I decided to push the topic back at her.
"What's your reason for not wanting to be discharged, Yamana-san?"
"Hehehe, it's not 'cause getting a job is a pain, y'know."
No one said anything. If a police lady or someone were to interrogate this person, it'd probably be easy.
"Well, 'cause it's easy is probably the biggest reason. Even if I watch TV all day like this, only the nurses get mad. I don't wanna leave 'cause it's easy, or, hmm, is it easy because I don't wanna leave? Which one is it?"
"Though sometimes I do feel like going outside," she added, blinking about thirty times. An eyelash seemed to have gotten into her eye, and she started writhing, going "Gyau gyau."
"D'ya know? They say I... I have depression. Me, depression. Sickness IS me."
*Are we really talking about this now?* I shrugged. That's a lie, though.
Having perhaps removed the eyelash, she raised her teary eyes, which had been poked by her fingers, back to the TV.
"They say I'm trying hard to be cheerful so I don't have to admit it. I'm super considerate, right? Fall for me."
Yamana-san, laughing as if it were a bother, thrust her left hand towards me. Her fingertips wriggled and brushed past me.
"I'm a good-for-nothing, you know."
"Nahaha, just kidding. I told you, I hate people. Besides, boy, you belong to Sakashita-sensei, right? I've got at least that much sense, I do."
Her index finger flicked my temple. *What's "sense"?* This time, I genuinely don't know.
"I'll make do with my own little brother."
"You have a younger brother?"
"Yup," Yamana-san affirmed with an utterance like English for "money." Her tone was a bit brusque. I wonder if it's something she doesn't want to talk about.

"So, boy, what are you?" She quickly changed the subject, not letting me delve further.
*How about "allergic to myself"?*
After that, until dinnertime, I watched TV and crushed time.
I didn't feel like I was *with* Yamana-san.

About three days had passed since I discovered the suicide fence built on the rooftop. Hospital life is so boring that even getting through a single day is tough. When I reported that to Sensei, she poked me on the head. Apparently, "Don't pick fights with working adults."
......Anyway. Rubbing my head, I had made my way to the rooftop before lunch. I twisted the doorknob and pushed against the wind to open it. The rooftop, as usual, had good weather; the wind was lively, and there was no one around. Since the nurses didn't come up to hang laundry, the comfort level was exceptional.
[ ....... ]
I also like the blurred sound of the wind passing by my ears.

After stretching once in the middle of the rooftop, I went around to the right side. Hooking my fingers on the right fence, I moved along and arrived at my destination. The fence in the process of being damaged. The rooftop's wound.
Squinting against the sunlight, I checked the progress of the damage. Its scale had grown enough in three days to make one look twice, like a growing boy. That's a lie, though.
However, it was steadily progressing. I reconfirmed that this was, indeed, man-made.
"Once the work is done, I wonder if they'll jump."
I placed my fingers on the chain-link fence and muttered something perfectly natural.
I don't think there's any other reason. If you're destroying an obstacle meant to prevent falls from the rooftop, isn't that the only possible motive? In my oversimplified mind, that was the limit of my imagination.
But if they want to jump and die, I can understand why they chose this place.
The windows only open a tiny bit, and breaking them is difficult.
If you want to jump from the hospital, you have no choice but to pick here.
It's not that I don't understand that feeling.
*Do I understand it, I wonder?* I tried to convince myself, just because.
Though I think I have an inkling why.
......That time. My fingers dug into the fence.
When I was only about half-alive in the basement. The broken chain-link pierced the skin of my finger.
When Mayu-chan started calling me Mii-kun. Blood, blood, blood slid smoothly.
Didn't I wish to die from the bottom of my heart?
My memory is hazy. Even if I remember what was done to me, there's no way I can recall what I was thinking.
But strangely, the fact that I cursed them, wishing they would die—

"What are you doing in a place like that?" My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. My back straightened involuntarily, like my mother's.
Cracking my neck unnaturally as I turned around, I saw Koibi-sensei standing there with an "Hmm?" expression. Her left hand was in her lab coat pocket, and her right hand was gently holding down her hair to protect it from the wind.
"What are you so jumpy about?"
"You caught me enjoying the flowers in the flowerbed, in a rather maidenly way, so I just..."
"Liar. You can't see anything like that from there."
My excuse just now was seen through. Huh? Does Sensei also know the view looking down from here?
Why, I wonder? Something like a cold sweat slid down my back.
Sensei approached, her slippers flapping noisily.
"Hey, it's dangerous there, so come over here."
Sensei took my hand and briskly pulled me back. But how does she know it's dangerous? I deceived myself with a question and let myself be led by Sensei's hand.
"Sensei, what did you come up here for?"
Sensei paused for a moment before answering my question.
"Let's see... Would it be no good if I said I came to verify whether the requiem for a slave sleeping under a sky that looks like it could fall at any moment can be played quietly?" "I don't understand it enough to say it's no good."
"You'll understand eventually, whether you like it or not."
Sensei laughed cheerfully.