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The shopkeeper, feeling a mix of admiration and pity for Nagase's full swings, had quietly handed me a towel. I used it to wipe the healthy sheen of sweat dripping down Nagase's skin.
"Awwwh..."
"Here, lean this way."
I pulled her head towards my chest, almost like an embrace, and wiped her down all over. Nagase's hair felt a little warm, and soft.
"Alright, all done."
I started to let go of Nagase, but she resisted, nudging her head against my solar plexus.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"
"J-Just a little longer!"
"Huh? You wanna go strike out some more?"
"My legs feel like Pocky sticks!"
"So you live in a house made of sweets, huh? A frail one, apparently."
"No! It's 'cause... my thighs, and my back, they feel all stiff and achey..."
"Oh, you just want to stay like this? Fine by me."
"You didn't have to say it so bluntly..."
Her voice trailed off at the end, letting the faint crimson blush coloring her neck speak for her.
The eyes of the other customers started gathering on us. A couple embracing without even holding bats must have been an annoying sight. Nagase, her vision blocked by the towel, didn't notice. I decided to just look at Nagase, too.
Her struggle with the metal bat had left her clothes slightly askew, revealing a peek of her shoulder and upper arm. I felt the urge to trace them with my fingertips, but my hands were occupied with the towel, so I resisted.
"You know, Nagase, you have nice shoulders."
"R-Really? You think so?"
"Yeah. I really like them."
""
"...Maybe we should head somewhere else."

Next, following Nagase's request, we went into a nearby coffee shop. Though calling it a coffee shop might be a stretch; it seemed to specialize more in light meals, and what we ordered was yakiudon—no room for lemon tea there. "You can't get romance from udon, y'see! Just calories!" Nagase grumbled while slurping her noodles. She must have been hungry after exercising; she ate with impressive gusto. When I pointed that out later, I got punched, though.
After downing her water refill, Nagase finally seemed to settle down, as if regaining her sense of gravity. The drunken-looking flush faded, her skin returning to its normal color, and she became sober-faced Nagase again. That's when I decided to talk a bit more seriously.
"Uh, hey... sorry."
"What's up all of a sudden?"
"Well, I just feel like this hasn't really worked out as a date."
Nagase's eyes widened, then she gave a vague smile and nodded. "Well, yeah, I guess that's true."
"This date... it didn't have any of the things you wanted, did it? I feel like I should have put more thought into where we went."
After all, we'd only arranged this via email at eleven last night and met up twelve hours later.
Nagase swirled her glass, rattling the ice cubes. "Yeah, I suppose so," she said,
"It wasn't exactly stylish, y'see. But the yakiudon was tasty, and swinging the bat was fun, so I'm perfectly happy with this."
Nagase affirmed this with a contented smile. If practice swings counted as entertainment for her, maybe I should suggest she join the softball team, I briefly considered. But I read the room and decided not to voice the thought.

"I see. So, it was okay then?"
"Yep."
Felt like she was just complaining a minute ago, but now she looks genuinely happy. What a strange girl.
"Well, this time was fine, y'see, but next time, make it something super flashy, okay?"
"...I'll casually do my best."
Nagase got a water refill, and we chatted idly for a while.
During that, the conversation turned to this:
"So, Tooru, are you going to a local university?"
Nagase asked it like she assumed I was going. Because of that, I hesitated before answering.
"I'm thinking of getting a job after high school."
"Oh, really?"
"Well, see, I'm living with my uncle... Asking for more than that is, well, you know..."
From the word "uncle" and my evasiveness, Nagase seemed to sense something.
"Is talking about your family... a bit heavy for you, Tooru?"
Nagase didn't know I was someone involved in "The Incident."
"Yeah. They're all dead."
I didn't explain the reason or the cause.
Maybe if I could have kept it hidden forever.
If she hadn't been Nagase Tooru.
The truth was still...
Nagase reacted emotionlessly with an "Is that so," and took a small sip of water.
"Um, so... are you the type to get hurt talking about your family, Tooru?"
"Do I look like that type?"
Nagase didn't answer whether I was right or wrong, just smiled.
"I want to know more about you, Tooru, but if you don't want to talk about it, I definitely won't ask, so... just checking."
...That was... kind of refreshing.
Being treated with consideration by someone... it didn't feel half bad, surprisingly.
"It's fine. My pride is in my nerves—they snap easier than most people's, but they reconnect just as easily afterwards."
"Wow! Like an amoeba, huh?"
And after that, following the honeybee treatment, the conversation drifted to talk about each other's families.
"You said it's been a while... what did they used to call you?"
"Before, my little sister used to call me a worker ant."
"Oho..." Nagase's eyes lit up. I could practically see the mischievous thoughts forming in her head.
"Then I'll designate you as my personal worker ant too, Tooru!"
"Then that makes you a bell cricket, Nagase."
"Are you sure about that? Female bell crickets eat the males before laying eggs, y'know!"
"Hmm. Which means... you do end up having kids, then."
"No sexual harassment!"
Seeing the unsophisticated Nagase flustered like this was stimulating, yet it softened my heart at the same time.
"By the way, I have a little sister too, y'see."
That was the first time I'd heard about Nagase Itsuki.
"She's in third grade now, so there's about a seven-year age gap. She's at that peak cheeky stage lately, always breaking bones."
"...Corporal punishment?"
"Nah, she does karate and stuff. Said she had a softball game today, too."
I see. Good information.
"Well then, should we go watch her game?"
"Hmm, I guess we could... Yeah, okay."
"If you're not keen, we can go somewhere else."
"It's not that... Just, no calling dibs on Itsuki, okay?"
She was worrying needlessly. How sad.

"Time-wise... has it started already?"
"She said it starts at one, so we should be fine."
We decided to chat a bit longer at the coffee shop.
"My family situation's a bit complicated too, y'see."
"Oh, is that so?"
"It doesn't really involve me much, though. Seems like it's an issue between my dad and my grandpa."
"Hoh."
"Maybe because of that, I have like, zero knowledge or experience with my grandparents. I don't even know what kind of people they are, like how much New Year's money they might give."
"Hmm."
Nagase pouted. "That's a pretty uninterested reply, considering I'm sharing personal stuff here."
"It's just a difficult topic to comment on."
Not because I shouldn't get involved, but simply because I couldn't think of anything to say.
Nagase hesitated, then concluded, "Well, I guess that's true too."

About thirty minutes later, after we left the shop, she asked,
"So, when are you going to start calling me by my first name?"
"Learning Japanese learn learn, little more hard."
I was rewarded with a small laugh from Nagase. "Ahaha."
"You're a funny liar, y'know. That last name really suits you, Tooru."
"Yeah, I quite like it myself."
Though it's not my real surname.

After that, on a whim, we went and watched Nagase Itsuki's game—free admission, no tickets needed. After the game ended, we met Nagase Itsuki, I received a straight punch from her, she took a liking to me for some hard-to-understand reason, Nagase got grandly jealous, and, well... it was fun.
The reason for all the complaining, the exaggerated movements, the fun... It hit me after Nagase and I parted ways: we were just giddy. Both of us, completely caught up in the excitement of liking each other.

The day after we played explorers.
Today, we play detectives.
I'd gone out intending to return the notebook to Nagase via Itsuki, but somehow I ended up sitting on a rooftop bench. This bench is a tricky one; right below the backrest, exactly where your butt goes, there's a smooth indentation that makes it really comfortable. You can just sink your whole weight into it, practically get buried in the bench... Anyway, I decided to cut off the escapist rambling about the bench right there. I don't have time to waste like water. I have plans to go out this afternoon.

The pre-noon rooftop was pervaded by a warmth befitting the term "mild winter." Even the apologetically light breeze only caused a slight shiver as it passed; it had no sharp edges. It was like a delinquent boy had undergone a sex change and become a sheltered young lady. Just for today, of all days. And because of that, I was denied the excuse of using the cold to leave this place.

Next to me on the bench sat Nagase, who had promised not to come to my hospital room. Today was Saturday, and I was seeing her in casual clothes for the first time in a while. I'd had the same impression before, but it was a rather nondescript outfit. She really ought to explore ways to establish more character, like maybe always having a zori sandal peeking out from under her armpit or something. I found myself arbitrarily worrying about Nagase's lack of distinctiveness.
"Being stared at makes it hard to act natural, y'know."
Nagase, embarrassed. Well, I wouldn't voice my inner thoughts anyway.

Now, why was Nagase here? Unlike me, she doesn't lie much and has a dutiful side, so she hadn't visited my room, just as promised. However, *I* had gone to Itsuki's room and ended up running into Nagase, who was there as a visitor. It felt like splitting hairs, but technically, no rules were broken. My face twitched at Nagase's cheerful "Morning!-ssu." Was this intentional, or a coincidence?
And so, I'd ended up on a rooftop "date," flanked by the Nagase sisters like I was holding spider lilies in both hands.

Itsuki was currently pestering the "Sensei" who was taking in laundry—that nurse from before. Calling someone "Sensei" who greets people (well, me, in this case) with "What color are your undies today?" instead of "Good morning"... Itsuki really is a poor judge of character.
Maybe that's why she's taken a liking to me, too.
"It's kinda peaceful, isn't it?"
Nagase murmured, narrowing her eyes against the sunlight and holding down her bangs against the wind. She looked like a mother watching her frolicking daughter from the shade of a tree, or maybe like an old woman who's become a fixture on the veranda, doting on her grandchild. If I had to say, I felt the former would probably treat me more friendly.
"Yeah, it is," I replied, playing the part of the old man on the veranda (complete with imaginary rice crackers or a cat on my lap).
"So peaceful," Nagase added, getting drawn into the aging phenomenon herself.
"A happy little circle."
"It's not *that* fun, though."
We sounded like we were about to be cast as characters in some old folktale.
Perhaps sensing this wasn't right, Nagase seemed to bathe in the fountain of youth, or at least started acting her age again.
"But Itsuki, y'know... you can really tell she likes you, Tooru."
Nagase said this, her gaze still fixed on Itsuki. All I could do was reply, "You think so?" Apparently, I hadn't been blessed by the youth-ification phenomenon yet.
"Ever since her neighbor disappeared, she's gotten... really scared of things. Now, she hardly ever wants to leave her room."
"Ah... it's more serious than I thought, then."
"But when you're around, Tooru, she wants to go outside and run around. That's really something, y'know."
"Whoa now, praise me that openly and I'll get a big head."
"I was talking about Itsuki being admirable, not you, Tooru."
Nagase cut me down with a prim demeanor. To try and catch up with this baffling exchange, I mentally rewound myself about sixty years. My posture, however, remained stubbornly stooped.
"Being with someone you like reduces fear... even for my own sister, that's just too girly."
"Well, when I'm with Mayu, even my worries get amnesia!"
"What are you trying to compete about...?" she sighed, giving me an exasperated, pitying look you'd give an idiot. Apparently, from a male perspective, I wasn't worthy of respect.
"Where's Maa-chan today?"
"She is presently recuperating, to heal the fatigue from her late-night activities."
"Is that so?" came the ambiguous reply, unclear who she was addressing.

She sent a sidelong glance in the opposite direction from me, towards the door, then darted just her eyes back.
"Can I ask you something?"
Nagase's demeanor shifted, the verbal tic temporarily vanishing from her speech.
"Depends on what it is."
"Fair enough," Nagase said, pretending to laugh once,
"It's about Maa-chan."
"It's a secret."
I cut her off flatly. Outrageous. Instead of yelling, Nagase just furrowed her brow and sighed.
"What happened eight years ago... I just want you to tell me the full story, just the details."
"Like I said, it's a secret."
Even faced with that sincere look in her eyes, all it produced in me was confusion and refusal.
Nagase might have reasons for wanting to know, but she had no right or obligation, and there was no necessity for me to speak. It was more natural for it *not* to be told.
But Nagase didn't back down. The women I tend to fall for often possess a personality that toes the paper-thin line between selfish and stubborn. Of course, Mayu, whose selfishness is separated from danger by that same thin paper, is in a league of her own.
"Then... what about Sugawara-kun? Everyone knows Sugawara-kun was... the murderer in this town, but... what was that all about?"
"What's it about? I wasn't friends with the student council president, nor was I his accomplice. What kind of comment do you expect me to offer?"
"Sugawara-kun wasn't the kind of boy who would do something like that. He must have been kidnapped, and something must have happened there... That's why... tell me!"
Her head bowed, she pleaded. Yet, I could also sense an atmosphere on the verge of igniting—as if at any moment she could flip, start sobbing and screaming, stabbing me with unreasonable, furious insults.
Dealing with these kinds of emotional surges had become routine.
Because I'm Maa-chan's Mii-kun, you see.
"Nagase," I said, emphasizing her last name.
Nagase's chin lifted, the bangs falling over her forehead parting to the sides.
"You seem to be misunderstanding. It's not that I *can't* tell you, it's that I *don't want* to. I'm not trying to be mean. It's just... unbearable, having someone close know every last detail."
Not that I want to forget, either. I didn't add those words, just sent them off somewhere into my heart.
"A long time ago, what you said felt refreshing, and it made me happy. That you wouldn't talk about or ask about things I didn't want to discuss. I intend to practice that too. Because talking about the incident isn't just unpleasant for me, Mayu would hate it too." *If only she remembered.*
Using a precious memory to shut down Nagase's argument.
Naturally, Nagase glared, eyes narrowed, and delivered her accurate assessment of me.
"You coward."
"I'm aware."
That's why I can treat even Nagase like this.
"Coward, coward, coward, coward, coward..." She repeated the insult over and over. As if asserting that no other word was adequate.
I stroked the bandage on my left arm, listening intently so as not to miss a word.
"It's not that I'm trying to make fun of you or anything... I'm saying you're wrong, Tooru. Do you understand?"
"Putting right or wrong aside, I believe I understand your point, Nagase."
"Then why are you acting so unfazed?"
Nagase's pointed question, as if sorting me into a different species entirely.

I excavated a reply to that from my memories.
"Because my nerves snap easily, but reconnect just as easily. I'm good at letting pain just flow past me."
At those words, recognition seemed to click with a memory, and Nagase fell silent.
So the past was still stored away inside Nagase.
And now, it served as nothing more than a breeding ground for awkwardness.
I could read the shadow falling over her mood from the set of her mouth, the way her eyes were downcast.
Something between us snapped, and we looked away from each other.
The gentle breeze seemed to carry an increased, painful chill.
"Tooru—"
"Right now, I'm not Tooru. I'm Mii-kun."
It was a way of conveying clear rejection—despicably, indirectly.
I watched the shadow deepen on Nagase's face out of the corner of my eye, but didn't turn to look.

Itsuki and the nurse, having procured a bubble-blowing set from somewhere, were manufacturing bubbles and distributing them freely into the air. Powered by the gentle air currents, the transparent spheres celebrated their few seconds of life.
As lightly as one of those bubbles, Nagase left the bench. "Going home," she stated her intention with the minimum number of syllables.
When Nagase and I used to hang out and part ways, there was always a "-ssu" at the end of her words. Now, nothing followed.
"Let me just say this," I called after her, like offering a final testament.
"What?" Nagase turned back, her tone cold.
"You think that something extremely *unusual* happened between us, Nagase."
"Yes... I guess so."
"But the truth is, what happened was an *abnormally* strange situation."
To me, to her, and to him.
It gave lies, and lies, and lies.
"...I hate wordplay like that."
Nagase's right hand clenched into a fist, and I half-expected it to fly towards my head. But her nails stayed digging into her palm, and she moved out of range.
All we gained each time Nagase and I met was an unwanted, unliked, opaque jelly of emotions.

Nagase approached her playing sister, said a few words, then headed straight for the rooftop exit.
Just before Nagase Tooru disappeared from view, I remembered something I'd forgotten to say, as if it had only just occurred to me.
Something I had to tell Nagase-san.

As if triggered by Nagase leaving the rooftop, the nurse gathered up the work she'd been neglecting. Itsuki, after receiving the tube of bubble solution, ran over to me, blowing the green straw even as she ran, leaving a trail of bubbles dancing in her wake.
Standing before me as I sat on the bench, Itsuki was taller than me. "Hyuhehee," she greeted me in some new language, the straw still in her mouth. Since she could only use one hand right now—the other holding the tube—she seemed to be having trouble managing the straw. I took over tube duty, and Itsuki finally reverted to Japanese.
"Wha' happened ta Nee-chan?"
"Said she hated breathing the same air as me," I reported, adding a little dramatic flair. Itsuki's response to that was... bubbles.

She dipped the tip of the straw into the solution and blew above my head. Bubbles were produced in cheerful profusion, creating an everyday sort of fantasy around the bench.
"Feel better?"
Itsuki asked, seeking validation for her gentle kindness.
"Are you trying to comfort me, then?"
"That is correct."
Just as I had done before, Itsuki stroked my hair. Liquid dripping from the straw pricked my scalp. Still, I couldn't bring myself to carelessly shrug off what was being offered to me.
Just then, as the nurse finished stuffing a large load of laundry into her basket and was leaving the rooftop, our eyes met. She gave a mean-spirited, older-person kind of laugh. *"Quite the ladies' man, huh?"* she mouthed, teasing me silently.
When we first came up to the rooftop, she'd been treating the police—who were striding around the hospital grounds using the outrageous excuse of "forcing" an incident investigation on everyone—like nuisances and had been in a foul mood, but she seemed to have recovered.
I replied with a dismissive flick of my wrist. Her parting smirk sent an uneasy stir through my gut.
"Ah, Sensei, take care!" Influenced by who knows what, Itsuki waved at the nurse with an old-fashioned farewell.
With that, the head-stroking ended, leaving behind the itchy warmth of rising body temperature.
"So, Itsuki, are you one of those eccentric types who always carries bubble-blowing gear around?"
"Sensei gave it to me! Sensei's pocket can hold all sorts of things, y'know!"
Wow, amazing. A standard-issue, sturdy, 3D pocket.
Maybe because we were alone now, Itsuki jumped onto my lap. She looked up at me with a premium smile and a "Nufufu~" laugh—humorous by the lenient judgment of a devotee, creepy by any standard evaluation.
"Sensei said... as payback... she'd tell Tooru the color of her panties today!"
"...You'll grow into a more respectable adult if you don't revere that person as your master."
Good grief. What a character. Still, I listened just in case. Picked my ears clean, adopting a pose of utmost auditory attention.
"Okay, um... gyurugyurugyuru... She said... 'Transparent Red Oxide'."
Well, first things first...
"Ooh, you're picturing it! Pervy old man!"
Itsuki teased, spraying me with iridescent bubbles. It wasn't like I snapped back to reality or anything; I just lost the red hue inside my mind.
"Not particularly interested," I said, fiddling with my bangs to regain composure. Just then, two bubbles caught on my little finger burst. As easily, as fragilely as my relationship with Nagase.
"Hey, T—" (etc.) "Wanna have lunch with me today?"
"Hmm..." Thinking back from Mayu's usual sleep schedule, she'd probably still be playing in dreamland until past noon. "Sounds good."
"And then, after we eat, let's... um... let's do something fun together!" From the pitch of Itsuki's voice, it was clear the emphasis was more on the "doing something fun" than the meal itself.
However, I had to politely decline the main proposal.
"Thanks for the invitation, really, but I have plans to visit a grave this afternoon."
Hearing this explanation, Itsuki's childlike face looked up at me, her light-perceiving organs drooping into a question mark.

"A grave? Whose?"
"It's the anniversary of my mother's death."
Four times a year, spring, summer, autumn, winter, I head to the cemetery facing the mountains. My mother's death anniversary is in winter. My father's is in spring, my brother's in summer, my sister's in autumn.
Among them, my mother was the first to pass away, and also the one I shared the fewest memories with.
But any bully's accusation that my mother is the only outcast would be jumping to conclusions. The truly isolated one is my younger sister. She alone is still staying up late, refusing to enter her grave; her body's whereabouts are unknown.
"Was Tooru's mom... pretty?" Itsuki asked innocently. Just like Mayu.
"I don't really remember her face much. She was tall, though." Taller than my old man, in fact. Creepily long-legged, and her actions, personality, way of speaking—everything was consistently *ironed out*. Brisk, efficient, crisp. I remember *that* much about my mother, yet her face alone refuses to surface from the swamp of the past. Even though I've seen photos of her several times since her death, the image just won't stick.
*"Like a soap bubble..."* Even if you can see the substance, grasping it is difficult. Is that how she is to me? There's also the lingering resentment stemming from the fact she was the one who named me.
"So, she wasn't pretty?" Itsuki cut into my monologue, producing a bubble as a case in point.
"Maybe so. But Itsuki, make sure you don't become a soap-bubble kind of beauty, okay?" Whether she understood the warning was unclear, but Itsuki accepted the advice with a "Okay!"
"Now then, Itsuki-chan."
"What is it, Tooru-jiji?"
Called an old man by this combination of innocence and purity, I was a high school student who felt like veins were about to pop on his forehead.
Pulling myself together. "There's something I want to talk to you about."
If I deleted the falsehood, it would be more accurate to say there was something I wanted to grill her about.
"What is it, what is it?"
"Ah, after we go to my room."
"Is... Is it a confession?"
"I don't hate the law *that* much, you know."
Stirring the solution with her straw and squirming with excited squeals, my words weren't reaching Itsuki at all.
It was in moments like this, seeing these simple parts of her, that I truly felt she was Nagase's little sister.
The Nagase from back when she and I were practically a walking public nuisance—an idiot couple.
Who could have possibly predicted that that 'back then' would crystallize into such pain and bitterness?
"Tooru has a girlfriend, so is this like... youthful two-timing? Kyaa! I'll be called a homewrecker cat! Kyaa!"
"Stop." I pressed Itsuki's pause button. "Oof." Good grief.

The Nagase of today is somewhat more complicated than the one I was close to back then. Was it because of the distance between us now, or was some entirely different factor causing it? I couldn't tell the difference.
Perhaps the only thing I could do was draw a line.

Back in the room were a weakened Watarai-san and the high schooler, who was having a staring contest with the TV, pretending the creature known as me didn't exist. The middle-aged man had departed early that morning on a journey in search of the ideal nurse.