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They don’t want to harm themselves.
That’s precisely why those with life wish for longevity.
Or perhaps…
To stay alive, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill a person they’ve chosen.
Well, that’s all just the profile of the culprit I imagined, anyway.
I’m somewhat curious to see how accurate it is.

Judging the timing, I dash out into the world of late night. Hiding by the wall, I sprint—forgetting the defect in my right leg—to capture the one I’m currently tailing with utmost dedication. To put my little game of being a member of the town’s Beautification Committee into practice.

Just like that other time, I cut through the community center parking lot, and just as they were about to turn around, I clamped a hand around their neck.
Pinning down the weapon case slung over their shoulder, I crush their right hand. Even if they try to shake their body to break my hold, the pressure on their neck prevents them from putting any real strength into it.

I trip them, bring my hand to their head, and slam them down onto the ground. I smash their chin into the concrete, twist their right arm—the one belonging to the person likely seeing stars and sparks scattered before their eyes—behind their back and put my weight on it. I stomp on their left hand with my foot, grinding it further. Not forgetting to pin their head to the ground with my left hand.

"I bit my tongue..."

"Next, you want me to break your arm?"
I ask, and a click of the tongue comes back in reply. At the same time, the resistance vanishes. They’ll aim for a reversal the moment they see an opening, that initial submission means nothing—but still, what soft hands. It’s embarrassing to make such a personal judgment, but they’re not the Mayu type, more the Nagase type. Just kidding, though.

Their mistake was needing to keep the weapon inside a bag for self-preservation. They should have just shaken me off and struck me down, but the habit of taking it out first was too ingrained.

"Good evening. Is English conversation class cancelled today?"
"...Choking a girl and then pinning her to the ground... you're quite the pervert, Senpai."
Forcing together a grating of teeth and a composed attitude, Biwashima Yagoto’s face twitches.
Today, too, she’s dressed in her uniform.
"My little sister often misunderstands me like that too. Truly regrettable."
I snatch the *shinai* bag and toss it far away.
"So? What's the meaning of this? Were you the murderer all along, Senpai?"
"That's another frequent misunderstanding, it's quite baffling. As for me, I intend to prove my innocence, so I'll just wait here for Ichimiya Kawana, who resumed her late-night patrols starting today. I'm actually planning to hand over Biwashima Yagoto, the one who murdered Souda Yoshihito, and bring this case to a close."
Biwashima twists her lips tightly, as if scoffing at that timeline.
"So, Senpai, you're treating me like the culprit?"
"Exactly. Criminal go to police. This is she."
"So you're desperately trying to frame me as the culprit. Also, your English is so ridiculously broken it's almost refreshing."
Biwashima resolutely plays innocent. Also, an English conversation class student praised my unique style. It goes without saying that the victory pose I struck, creating a moment full of openings out of joy, is a lie, though.

I give the surroundings a rough check to confirm there's no one else around.
Now then, to bring this incident to a close in my own way, I need Vice Chair Ichimiya. While waiting for her, I need to keep my lips and tongue exercised. Don't want to be caught in a critical moment unable to even make excuses because the cold got in the way.

"This position is getting really uncomfortable, you know."
"Ah, so it's finally starting to take effect. Your endurance is worthy of a medal."
"If you treat your prisoner too poorly, I'll scream that you're a molester."
"The moment you do, I'll break your arm and then cover your mouth. Living up to my reputation as a high school student seen as dangerous by those around me."
Biwashima pouts, pursing her lips, and falls silent for the time being. The fact that she doesn't gasp and reveal her fear shows she has guts. Or perhaps my threats lack sufficient intimidation.
If she remains non-resistant, I won't inflict any more harm than necessary. If I broke her arm, her mouth would probably twist into a frown too, and she wouldn't talk to me anymore.

"A question for you, Ms. Biwashima Yagoto, whom I regard as the representative of the entire student body: your opinion on Mr. Souda Yoshihito in one word?"
"He's no good. If he just sprinkled one more pinch of kitsch onto his face, he might be popular with the guys though."
What kind of answer is that? Are you my actual sibling?
Depending on my satisfaction with the answer, I twisted her right wrist a little more. I can't hear things like "Ouch, that hurts."

"Let's put that one on hold for now and move to the next question. This one's quite important, so please oblige. Biwashima, at the manga cafe, you asserted that Yoshihito was a loser satisfied with receiving only one chocolate, didn't you? On what basis did you determine that exact number?"
".........Did I say something like that?"
Biwashima played dumb without much hesitation.
*Well, I guess that's fine,* I switch gears in my head.

"Yoshihito-kun was quite popular." "Unlike you, Senpai." "Maybe some maiden who couldn't give up even though he had a girlfriend, or perhaps just wanted to convey her feelings, gave him a ten-yen chocolate, or maybe it was obligatory chocolate." "He's different from you, Senpai." "Given his charisma and looks, receiving only one is normally unthinkable. You couldn't possibly assert that unless you'd thoroughly investigated Yoshihito."
Biwashima's gaze drops from the sky and me to the familiar ground nearby. She also sniffs.
"Investigated, yes, namely, his school bag. Apparently, Yoshihito was fooling around without going home until he was murdered, and was casually heading towards the murder scene on his way back. That's what the lady from the police told me. And from the scene, besides Yoshihito's internal organs that Ichimiya is searching for, his bag had also vanished. If you took that bag home and examined it, you might gain the information needed to determine the number of chocolates, and perhaps let it slip."
Biwashima's eyes snap up. They lock onto me, glaring, projecting suspicion. I meet her gaze.

"Um, so you want me to admit I'm the culprit based on that?"
"Yup."
"Seriously, that doesn't prove anything. How on earth am I supposed to resign myself to guilt based on that?" "Exactly."
That's why I had you bring the physical evidence today.

.........
"You know, Senpai, listening to you, this sounds like a murder case cooked up by a candy company for publicity."
"The Chocolate Villa Serial Murders?" "It's not serial..."
It seems either her composure or her mood has recovered enough for her to make a retort. Biwashima lets out fragmented sighs, affected by being pinned down.

"Senpai." She calls out again, this time changing even the inflection at the end of her words. "What is it?"
"Saying this feels like half-admitting it, which I hate, but... how did you figure out I'd be coming here today?"
"Ah, about how your intention to murder Ichimiya was so obvious."
The fact that she doesn't deny it indicates affirmation, unless she's a habitual liar.
"By utilizing nighttime PK, psychokinesis, of course."
"Oh, *that's* what PK meant. I totally thought it was the soccer kind." "Mhm, mhm." I'm just spouting whatever comes to mind, but oh well.
"Well, jokes aside, it was when I heard the details of how Ichimiya started wandering around late at night again. Why would Biwashima, who shouldn't have been keen on it, suggest strolling around at night again? I figured she decided she couldn't kill her at school, obviously, so she got her to wander outside again. I already suspected Biwashima might be the culprit, though the motive is still completely unknown."
Or perhaps, as mentioned earlier, she was deemed unfit for Biwashima's world. Regarding Ichimiya, judging from her current mental state, sunken cheeks, and the way her bloodshot eyes look, I can understand that much.
"To think you can only see a classmate from the same committee in such a way," Biwashima feigns mockery.
"I'll give you a chance to reflect, Senpai, so try letting go of my hands."
"That's just not how things work in the harsh world of the Beautification Committee." Just kidding, though.
"Also, the reason you're pinning me down is unclear."
"Ah, that," I reply casually as always.
"The plan is to stay like this until Ichimiya carries out her revenge killing."
Biwashima's eyes don't turn green, nor her hair blonde, but her glare definitely sharpened.
"Need an explanation?" "I don't, so please let me go." "Alright, I'll tell you as a souvenir for the afterlife."
"Basically, Ichimiya is also a nuisance right now. If her target for revenge disappears, it's unknown what kind of danger she might transform into. So, Ichimiya will be arrested as the culprit who murdered Biwashima. With this, the threat to the town will be removed."
Learning from my previous failure, this time I decided the murderer should die. This time, it should be okay.
As I was thinking that, Biwashima sniffs desperately. It seems even laughing is a struggle in this position.

"You really overestimate yourself, Senpai. Whose words do you think Kawana will listen to, mine or yours?"
"...Biwashima, you have a good eye for judging me, but it seems you don't have one for Ichimiya. Is this that 'best friends are blind' thing?"
".........That's not a Japanese expression, but does it even mean anything?"
"For Ichimiya, triggered by Yoshihito's death, her human relationships have already been reset. Everyone's a suspect. That's why both me, a total stranger, and Biwashima, her best friend, got hit on the head by her."
Biwashima narrows her eyes.
"To Ichimiya, you and I are just people temporarily cleared of suspicion. The proof is that Ichimiya has adopted both Biwashima's advice and my suggestion to conduct late-night patrols."
".........You, Senpai?"
"Ichimiya resumed her late-night wandering because Biwashima recommended it. And the one who advised her on the patrol location was me, yesterday. I told her some appropriate lie, like the culprit was highly likely to appear near the murder scene again."
"Why would you do that..." Biwashima starts to say, then her eyes go wide. Oh, did she figure it out?
"Ugh, it was that time. It has to be." "Yep," I affirm without even checking.
Biwashima clicks her tongue. She's quite practiced at that, though I didn't offer any particular praise.
"I shouldn't have pretended to be friendly with you, Senpai." "Indeed."
"Please let me tear at my scalp." "You're a girl too, you know, so take care of yourself." "I am. That's why I mean *your* head, Senpai." "Treat yourself more carelessly." The only one I permit that for is Mayu.
"This is the worst." "You think so?" "Both you and I, Senpai, are the worst."
Don't drag me down with you. It's far too late for that now anyway.

I had predicted Biwashima would make her move on Friday, so all that was left was selecting the location.
If Ichimiya's body were discovered on any day other than Friday, the fact that Biwashima, who patrols with her, was living perfectly ordinarily—not seeing the culprit, not being attacked—would all seem strange. It had become a rumor at school that they were wandering around late at night. So I gambled that she would only carry it out on Friday, the day she wouldn't be accompanying Ichimiya.

"So, are you going to tell me the reason you've decided I'm the culprit yet? Please don't show me the cherry blossom shower on your shoulder or anything."
"Right, if you're caught wandering around here with a weapon in hand, skipping English conversation class, wouldn't that alone be evidence? Caught red-handed."
"How rude. Today, I was planning to go after finishing up some persimmon thieving. But since I have no choice, I'm humoring you, Senpai," she snaps毒づく.
It's not like I'm enjoying chatting with Biwashima either.
It's because Ichimiya still hasn't shown up.

"Speaking of which, that *shinai* bag actually contains a *bokken*, right?"
That way, she could pretend she was coming back from club activities on the day of the incident, so Yoshihito wouldn't have been wary of the weapon either.
In response to my question, accompanied by my gaze, Biwashima takes a dismissive attitude with a "Hmph."

"You don't need to be stubborn about something where the answer will be obvious once checked."
"Then why don't you check for yourself instead of asking people?"
"Unfortunately, unless I'm a rubber man, my hands can't reach from here, and more importantly, it's too much trouble."
Since there's no sea in our hometown, there's no real harm in eating the fruit, though.
A sigh and a snort expel simultaneously from Biwashima. The small rise and fall of her upper body transmits through her hands more than before.
"When we parted at the coffee shop, you asked me about my dan rank, didn't you?"
"You remember that, huh?"
"Was that your basis for asserting it was a *bokken*?"
"That's right. I'd heard a bit about kendo from Kaneko. If you're a shodan or first kyu or higher, it's not strange to purchase a *bokken* for the promotion exam. Even if you had to buy a new *bokken* after using it to kill a living creature, it wouldn't raise that much suspicion."
"Senpai, are you stalking me? You approached me that day pretending it was a coincidence too, didn't you?"
"It's the opposite, a coincidence where I acted like there was something going on." That applies to about eighty percent of my actions.
"So, as proof that you're the culprit, the weapon known as the *bokken* used to murder Yoshihito has been seized. It's covered in bloodstains and bodily fluids. You don't need any more physical evidence than that, right?"
"Whether that counts as evidence is questionable too. If I were the culprit, I'd definitely have replaced the *bokken*."
"Yeah, the *bokken* itself, maybe. But what about the bag?"
"The bag...?" Biwashima's eyes dart around, searching for the meaning of those words. If allowed, she probably would have tilted her head.
"The bag isn't the weapon. It's natural for attention to slip, but it was storing the weapon, the *bokken*. Can you confidently say the bloodstains on the *bokken* were completely wiped off? Are you absolutely sure nothing adhered to the inside? Have you cleaned it meticulously to ensure no dog hair, cat hair, or fragments of Yoshihito's flesh have accumulated at the bottom of the bag?"
I press her, my tone rising. Then, "Ohh," Biwashima lets out a small, simple expression of comprehension.
"Somehow, that almost sounded convincing. It's strange."
"Hoh hoh hoh, they call me the Irrigation Ditch, you know."
It's meaningless and a lie, besides. Even if there were traces, other creatures' blood would likely be mixed in, making identification impossible. The evidence and testimony I submit are usually riddled with falsehoods. That's just who I am.

"Incidentally, I've already secured a route for inspecting the *shinai* bag," I try applying pressure.
I feel kinda bad always using Natsuki-san like this. Just kidding, though.
"Huh," says Biwashima. This time, her response to my statement was indifferent.
I let my gaze sweep the surroundings once more, searching for the person I'm waiting for. Ichimiya still holds back her shadow and form, not even a sign of her approach can be seen. If she's gone home like this, Biwashima and I will freeze to death together. The absence of any other extra figures is something to welcome, however.

"By the way, Biwashima."
"No, that's wrong, I'll remain silent. If I say all that, one of them should apply, right?"
"What did you like about Souda Yoshihito?"
Biwashima's displeased eyebrows furrow. In addition, her mouth forms a shape exceeding my expected range: "Huh?"

Her cheeks and lips also undergo a sloppy distortion, as if melting from solid form.
"The shoes, and you liked him enough to take his handkerchief home and keep it, right?"
There's no benefit in taking something like that home other than an emotional one.
If discovered, it would become solid evidence proving the crime. If the gain outweighs the loss of taking away such an incriminating item, then the only value there lies in the heart.
Like Mayu collecting my hair.
"No, no, no way. That's impossible," she denies desperately.
"Unfortunately for you, there's one more piece of evidence. I've already heard it from Ichimiya." Just kidding, though.
Seeing through my lie, Biwashima laughs as if she's caught a tanuki by its tail.
"That's impossible. There's no way you could hear that from Kawana."
"Probably not. But Biwashima, that denial also inversely affirms it, doesn't it? You couldn't hear it from Kawana, meaning the story itself exists."
Ah, Biwashima's throat caught. This is the first time in our conversation that my attack has shown an outward effect.
"You don't have to admit it, but if your room were searched, the shoes and stuff would definitely be found. And I happen to know a wonderful lady who'd work hard on the investigation," I declared forcefully, without basis. Even if she took them for some other reason, the moment the shoes themselves are found, she's done for.
"How about it?" "I don't know!" Biwashima glares defiantly while being tormented by shame.
Culprit aside, I've proven her feelings of affection. Meaningless, though.
"If that Biwashima were the culprit, for what reason would she kill Yoshihito?"
"......What's that?"
"Just a game," I say. Because Ichimiya isn't showing up at all.
Biwashima shows no particular reaction. Her eyes remain fixed on me.
"I thought I'd make an effort to deepen my bond with Biwashima, at least at the end."
It'd be annoying if she came back to haunt me, after all. Just kidding, though.
"That's impossible," Biwashima denies, but her eyes droop. Her mouth moves indistinctly, and she whispers while spitting out saliva.
"If I tell you this, can I go home?" "I'll consider it." Just kidding, though.
Knowing full well it's impossible, Biwashima opens her mouth, whatever resolve she's made aside.
"The reason to kill Souda-kun... If it were me, it would be to make the world clean."
"......Is that all?"
"What more is necessary?"
"......Hey now, what happened to the 'like' part?"
"That's precisely why."
The stars weren't twinkling anywhere. Nor was the wind rushing through the trees, rustling them. Immersed in the near-windless spring darkness, we slowly melt into the night, enveloped by the chill, as if--
"I'm not particularly looking for your empathy, Senpai."
"Oh, really?" Well, yeah, even if you broadcast weird signals only you can hear, I can't receive them.
"Souda-kun is dirty, you see."
"......Dirty?"
"It's probably a value system meaningless to anyone but me," Biwashima adds, as if rejecting understanding. I went against that and offered my opinion.
"If he was just dirty, couldn't you have washed him clean instead of throwing him away?"
"Why should I have to go through all that trouble?" she asks.
So I wouldn't have to tearfully restrain a classmate from behind in the middle of the night. Just kidding, though.
"Senpai. Do you know how many people didn't participate in last year's school trip?"
She abruptly shifts the conversation toward the school trip—a four-day, three-night excursion around Kitakyushu.
"Two, maybe?" Meaning Mayu and me. Perhaps this is a trick question suggesting we're one person since we're inseparable. But...
"Wrong. Three people. You, Misono-senpai, and me. I didn't participate either."
Biwashima speaks about the past with more enthusiasm than at any other point in today's conversation.
"Was it because of family circumstances, or maybe you caught a cold?"
"Because I was scared."
Her answer exudes confidence. A declaration without a subject.
And Biwashima's clear response hit me hard.
"I can't believe the world is actually vast. I've felt that way ever since I was a child. This town alone is the entire world to me."
"...Hmm."
"Please stop pretending to understand when you clearly don't."
Her sharp observation cuts in. After forcing my insincere mouth shut, she continues her story.
"I've never ridden a train, let alone a plane—that's out of the question. I have no interest in seeing the ocean in person, and TV and newspapers are all fake to me. Even if I studied English conversation, it would be completely useless for someone like me."
Biwashima is suddenly talkative. She confirms my attentive posture with a sidelong glance.
"Do you understand a little?" "Not at all." "I figured as much," she says in a bland exchange.
"Since this town is a small world, I thought maybe even my hands could clean it thoroughly. That's the kind of motive I might have."
"I see." "Don't so easily—" "I'm just acknowledging that you have a motive."
"So, what exactly made Yoshihito-kun a 'dirty' person?"
I get ahead of her, cutting off Biwashima's anger. Good—her expression remains within the range of mere frustration.
"Even if my head exploded, I wouldn't tell you."
"Oh?" Normally, people would say "even if my mouth split open." Am I being rejected even more thoroughly?
"Though I might tell your corpse."
"I'll pass on that," I say, even though she said it so cheerfully.
Well, it's not that important anyway.
I'm not interested enough in her motive to forcibly pry open Biwashima's lips to extract it.
If the evidence is secured by the police, my sister's suspicion should be cleared.
If she likes her current life, I'll quietly help ensure it doesn't collapse.
Just once, I should show her what it means to be a proper "anii-chan." Just kidding, though.
"Still, the world, huh..."
To me right now, it's a vast and dirty place.
I look around. Ichimiya still hasn't arrived. Hurry back from your training already.
"What is it?"
It was doubtful whether even five minutes had actually passed, but I fell under the illusion that time itself had slowed.
"Hey, Biwashima."
"There was a time I was hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital for a while once."
Biwashima's gaze, which had been wandering elsewhere, snapped back home to me, bringing suspicion as a souvenir.
"I lived there for about a month and a half, I think. There were all sorts of people. There was someone who stayed glued to the window all day, their eyes tracking something. There was an old man who always pestered me—a kid—for cigarettes. I even saw someone tied to their bed once, because they had a habit of stealing."

A kid my age was discharged after just one day. When I tried talking to them, they left me with a single question: "Who are you?"
Biwashima asked aloud, "What is this story about?" But, seeing as my Modern Japanese grade is a 3, I ended up answering her question with another question.
"Leaving aside the question of hope, what do you think the purpose of being hospitalized is?"
"Who knows? I've never had anything to do with it, so I have no idea."
"To preserve their world."
The adolescent high school girl reacted to the word "world." Her ears twitched, quivering nervously.
"Maybe they're tormented by depression and seeking an environment where it's harder to commit suicide impulsively, or they're being crushed by the discrimination and prejudice around them, or they can't bear the worried attitudes of family and friends... the reasons are infinitely varied. But in the end, many people get hospitalized simply to prevent their current situation from deteriorating further."
Whether she was listening intently or just letting it wash over her, the trembling in her ears stopped. I went on.
"The practical reality is, no matter how much time you spend in a closed environment, it's difficult to recover enough to return to society. After all, there are fewer people attacking you in the hospital. Even if you adapt to that environment and your communication becomes smooth *there*, it doesn't mean you've acquired the ability to function in actual society. That's why many people end up being readmitted soon after discharge. It's proof that time can heal emotional wounds, but not the *misalignment*."
And that misalignment prompts the healed wounds to relapse. It's a vicious cycle, really.
"If you want to live by changing your world, you just need your symptoms to reach an extreme. In fact, there were even a few people who reached that point." *Like Mayu, huh.* "But there were also many people there who feared the change that comes with letting everything go. People who were looking for a way to live while controlling their problems—those existed too, though."
Once discord has arisen in one's world, it's impossible to mend it.
"I'm the same as those people. I might be willing to adjust to the world, but I don't go so far as wanting to change it."
Why? Because then I couldn't do things like give Mayu kisses. *Or maybe that's a lie.*
I paused the conversation for a moment. Careful not to loosen my conversational hold on Biwashima while she was thinking, I took a brief rest. For the third time, my gaze darted around, searching for Ichimiya. What the hell is she doing? Didn't she get hit by a car or something? If this keeps up, I'm going to end up worrying myself sick over nothing.
Okay, that part's a lie. But seriously, she's taking her sweet time, totally oblivious to how I feel. Especially when, after Ichimiya gets here, I have the daunting task ahead of me: explaining things without telling any lies.
It even dredged up a memory from middle school of being chewed out: "Think about other people's feelings for once!"
No, no, calm down. Forget that bitter taste in the back of my mouth, just enjoy the scenery. I looked up at the sky, completely exposed.