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But hey, this is an emergency. I'll give myself a pass for now.
Let's leave the aftermath to the 'me' of that time.
And so, I tried wrapping things up with that comforting thought.
*"My lack of a sense of crisis is hereditary," I told myself.*
I stopped resting and started walking under the sun again.

I crossed the bridge in ten steps, went over a road I’d never seen a car use, and kept walking. About ten years ago, this area was all fields, but now it’s been completely developed, filled with houses for sale. After turning right twice, I eventually passed a detached house conspicuous for its garish blue roof and antenna, surrounded not by a wall, but by squarely trimmed trees. Assuming she hadn't transferred schools, moved away, or gone bankrupt from stocks, this was Fushimi's familiar house, located 'next door' to my destination. (It was actually three hundred meters away, but with no obstacles in between, I used the term 'next door' for convenience—just trying to put on airs.)

Technically, she was a neighbor to my past self, but the lawn wasn't green. Or rather, it wasn't exactly thriving. A vaguely dilapidated, untended patch of ground spread out before it. Naturally, no golf balls or dogs named John lived there. I predicted it was likely a paradise for earthworms and lizards.
The front gate was shut tight. Must be because it's spring break... because... I tried to connect it to some reason, but couldn't think of one on the spot. Hmmm, how about 'They went searching for strawberry tarts because it's spring vacation'? Not that it really matters.

Fushimi and I didn't have the kind of relationship where I'd just pop over for a greeting and be treated to overly sweet tea cakes simply because I was passing by her house. So, there was no particular need for me to react further.
"...Oh?"
When I happened to glance up at the second floor, my eyes met Fushimi Yuyu's. She was plastered against the window of the room on the right, looking like a ghost from a horror story. ...What the heck is she doing? Kissing her own reflection in the window? How daring.
As we stared intently at each other, Fushimi started sweating bullets, flustered, and pressed her hand against the window toward me. I wanted to fire back a retort like, 'Can you even *see* me through that?' but I doubted my voice would carry far enough to reach her eardrums. Reluctantly, I settled for waving instead. Not that it achieved anything.
Fushimi moved away from the window and vanished from my line of sight. Not to be outdone, I... well, I didn't actually have the playful spirit to break through the tree barrier, trespass, and catch sight of her again.
After waiting a moment, Fushimi emerged outside in rubber sandals, half-colliding with the front door on her way out. Then she came pattering over to me. In long-distance running class, she puts on a magnificent display of running that even catches the eyes of other girls. Mind you, what draws the attention isn't her well-trained lower body, but her upper body—it's hard to tell if it’s toned or not. Her rank is usually somewhere in the bottom half. Mayu, incidentally, wins by default. Also known as 'skipping class.'

When she reached me, Fushimi sagged, exhausted. She braced her hands on her knees, panting, shoulders heaving. Still, she looked up at me.
"Mornin', Prez."
After my casual greeting, Fushimi pulled the notebook she'd crammed into her pocket out and started flipping through the pages. *Probably looking for 'Good morning,'* I figured, watching her. Come to think of it, she wasn't in her uniform today. Natural enough, since it was spring break, but this was the first time I’d ever run into or interacted with Fushimi dressed in casual clothes.
Fushimi pointed to a slightly formal 'Good morning.' greeting in her notebook. *Maybe because I'm technically her senior?* Though considering that, not a single polite word ever popped up in our usual conversations.
Fushimi held up her eraser and shaved off a tiny bit of a five-stroke tally mark. After brushing the eraser dust away with her hand, she looked at me.
"You. What business?" she asked, her actual voice cracking and even hoarser than usual.

"Hm? Nah, nothing with you specifically." Why did she look so visibly disappointed, Prez?
"Er, how should I put this... Fushimi, what sort of high-level amusement were you engaged in with the window just now?" If I just left, I felt like my authority as Vice Prez might get restricted, so I decided to make some polite conversation. That's a lie, though.
In response to my question, Fushimi blurted out, "Killing time," then hastily searched her notebook. Apparently, *not* using one of her stockpiled phrases is a rather unforgivable act for her. After checking for a bit, it seemed she didn't have that one stored, so she quickly wrote down 'Killing time, killing time' before continuing.
'Family.' 'Went.' 'Overseas trip.' 'So...' After that, her expression and posture conveyed utter dejection.
*Whoa, whoa, judging by your surname, Fushimi-kun, you must be a member of the Fushimi family too, right?*
*Could it be? A secret about Fushimi's birth or family relationships? Rifts and discord...?*
'Nap.' 'While I was.' 'At home.' 'Left.' 'Behind.'
'...' Fushimi erased the tally mark with her eraser.
*Are you living with some travel-loving lion or something?*
After that notebook exchange, she spread her arms wide above her head and jumped up and down. Naturally, her ample bosom bounced too. Or rather, that was the part overflowing with the most dynamic movement.
*Huh?*
I'd thought this for a while, but I got the sense she had no awareness of her own physical attributes. That kind of natural allure is the worst. In the future, she'll probably become an oblivious queen, strutting through town with four or five men constantly in tow. Whether that's a lie or not... might be hard to determine.
Setting aside Fushimi's future prospects, she was still hopping up and down. *Maybe she's trying to physically represent an exclamation mark?* I mean, sure, it'd be impossible to just tack one onto the end of a spoken word, but she could just write it in her notebook instead of saving it up...
"`Such a stickler,`" I muttered.
My mutter seemed to snap her back to reality. Perhaps reflecting on her childish actions, Fushimi seemed to shrink into herself, her cheeks flushing pale pink. *In a good way, she still hasn't completely shaken that elementary school vibe,* I thought. Ignoring her physical development, that was my assessment.

'What.' 'What.' 'What.' 'Where.' 'Where.' 'Where.' 'Go.'
Trying to cover her embarrassment and save face, Fushimi spammed words from her notebook. It seemed even less likely to be effective than a blind man firing a machine gun.
"Just heading to my house, got some business there."
"Your house?" Fushimi's eyes widened as she turned her head to the left.
"Yeah, the house in that direction."

As I said that, I suddenly wondered what state my house was in now.
I hadn't set foot there once since the incident. Were those floors, designed to detect intruders by creaking with every step, still intact? I had a feeling they might have rotted through by now, functioning more like a pitfall trap for intruders. Besides, my aunt supposedly collected my clothes and school backpack while I was hospitalized.
My uncle and aunt never brought it up, and I wasn't interested, so I don't know the full story at all.
Fushimi turned her head back and flipped through the pages of her notebook. No flip-book animations in the corners or anything.
"`Wha-?`"
'Your.' 'House.' 'Now, someone lives there.'
'Ooe.' '-san, people called.' 'House.' 'Remodeled.' 'And.' 'Living there.'
"`Huh. Big...` *Come on, translate 'Oe' into English, hurry up.* `...-san, huh.` I gave up. It couldn't possibly be 'Big E'."
Still, buying a place like that to live in... I wonder if the Ooe family falls under the 'eccentric' or 'clueless about the world' category.
Someone actually living there... that was unexpected. Could I really pull off the burglary-like act of searching for my old things? Now it seemed doubtful there'd even be anything worth finding, laid out like a treasure chest. Still, if I revealed who I was, maybe they'd cut me some slack. I'd probably get bombarded with nosy questions, but I'd just have to stand my ground like the rolling stone I am.
That's a lie, though. It's not like I've got weeds growing out of my head or anything.
"Anyway, I'm gonna go check it out. Well then, see you next semester or something. Thanks."
Giving a slight wave, I thanked my 'informant' and we parted ways. I briskly resumed walking towards my now-'former' family home. ...About four steps in, a wrench was thrown into the works. The sound of footsteps had doubled: *pat pat, pat pat*.
Unless I'd suddenly started walking on all fours, the secret had to be right behind me.
Without stopping, I turned around. Moonwalking backward, I faced the source.
Fushimi had joined the party before I knew it. Had she forgotten to say something?
It's common knowledge that night eventually falls even if you stay cooped up in your room all day, never mind leaving town. And I'm perfectly aware that equipping weapons out on the main road tends to attract policemen...
Fushimi took her notebook from her pocket. While she was at it, she readied her eraser too.
'I.' 'Have.' 'Too much.' 'Free time.' 'Let's go!' Then she erased the tally marks.
"Planning on tagging along?" She nodded.
"Why...? Aren't there more meaningful ways to waste your time?"
Like using instant noodle cups as frisbees while playing both the dog and the owner, running all over the house. That's a lie, though.

"`Just... because.`"
"'Okay?'" "'Yep.'"
"`So, is that... not okay?`" Fushimi asked, her round eyes pleading. For some reason, I felt the urge to press a hand to my forehead and look away evasively, but I settled for just letting out a sigh.
*...Walking around with another girl, and having Mayu get suspicious about it.* Yeah, that would be fine.
Yeah, maybe I'll treat this as a declaration of my resolve to get her back to that point.
"Just so you know, this isn't an outing, okay?"
If you can't even use 'Puff-Puff' once, the journey ahead is gonna be rough. Just kidding... though if I ever *did* use it, it would surely set me on a completely different life path.
Fushimi, utterly oblivious to my wicked delusions, laughed without a care in the world. A good attack, striking right at my guilt.
"Nuh-uh, it *is* an outing. If I go out with you, it becomes one."
...That sounded like a pretty suggestive declaration. Sort of like what N-san said when she laughed and told me, 'Even striking out at the batting cages counts as a date if I'm with you.'
"`So I'm a human picnic destination, huh?`" I said, pretending to be exasperated, "`Well, whatever.`"
And so, Fushimi Yuyu joined the party.
Along the way, I mulled it over to kill time: what exactly *had* our relationship been these past two years?

My house had originally been pointlessly huge.
I don't know whose taste it was, but by the time I, the second son, was born—around the time my natural emotion-control system kicked in—it had already grown to the size of a traditional inn. The property was bigger than the business hotel near the station, but even counting the drinking buddies the head of the household sometimes brought over, there were rarely more than ten people using it at once.
And since they renovated and expanded that house, the Ooe residence was naturally vast as well.
"...Yeah, but still..."
After passing through the gate, I stood before the imposing iron front door and looked up at the structure before me.
"`Wow, it's really changed... Talk about excessive plastic surgery on the exterior.` This isn't the Ooe House, it's the Ootsuka Clinic."
To that mutter, Fushimi showed a faint visual reaction, but offered no reply via words or notebook.
Barely a trace of my old house remained. At least, judging by the exterior; who knows what the inside was like.
It was like an objet d'art made by forcibly slapping Western-style decorations onto a Japanese architectural frame. If you looked down from overhead, it must... it wasn't hard to imagine it'd look like a trapezoid. It was *so* artistic, like finding a bluefin tuna sticking its head out of a flowerpot.
"Hey Fushimi, do you, like, have neighborly relations with the people in this house?"
"`Like, borrowing soy sauce, or them trying to sell you a bag of surplus persimmons for a hundred yen?`"
Fushimi shook her head violently side-to-side, affirming their distant relationship.
The property was also surrounded by walls high enough to prevent peeking inside. A magnificent Western-style mansion—the kind that makes you want to vacuum up shards of glass. Fushimi's tool was her notebook, so she could jot down important notes.
Showing a '*nudge nudge*' sound effect from her notebook, Fushimi tugged my sleeve. Without resisting, I looked where she pointed. What appeared to be window openings were fitted with vertical and horizontal iron bars. "...A fortress, huh."
Back when my house stood here, it projected such an air of casualness that two or three window panes were left cracked. Now it's built like it encourages being a shut-in... must be the sign of the times, I suppose. Not that I actually lamented it or anything.

Through the tiny gaps where the iron bars crossed, it looked like a gun barrel could poke out at any second and take aim. *Well, judging by the angle, Fushimi would get sniped first, so no need to panic,* I thought, slowly scanning around for a doorbell. Hey now, that falls more into the 'joke' category than 'lie,' you know.
"`...Doesn't seem to be one.`" Fushimi and I exchanged glances, and she nodded. I couldn't find an electronic push-button chime or one of those pull-cord contraptions that rattles a bell. *Too bad, those are handy for playing 'New Year's Shrine Visit' under the eaves,* I lamented internally. Ignoring the lie, maybe I should just barge in?
I grabbed the handle of the metal front door, which towered over me. *Nngh.* I pulled, but it wouldn't budge. Too heavy. Putting my weight into it, bracing my knees and fingers, I gave it a serious pull. Only then did the door swing open, accompanied by a gritty sensation and a sound like twisting a rusty doorknob—'imposing' wasn't quite the word.
The door was thick too, even on its edge. Not tofu-thick, maybe, but it boasted the thickness of a hefty American beefsteak. What's more, while I couldn't see a keyhole, it definitely seemed to have a lock. Either electronic or a design flaw, probably.
Stepping into the Ooe residence, the temperature seemed to read the room. It dropped from the April borderline between warm and hot outside, settling into a blend of warm and chilly. I closed the heavy door behind me, letting the loud *thud* serve as a doorbell.
'Dim.' 'Gloomy.'
Fushimi offered her first impression via notebook. True enough, in this space with no apparent windows and unlit electric lights, the dimness had a tangible quality, like dregs clinging and spreading around every object. I took out the cellphone I'd bought again (Mayu insisted on paying the bill, and we bought matching models) and checked the time. It was just past 4 PM; it seemed like only the inside of the house was operating on winter daylight hours.

The ceiling... its height had been considerably augmented. Nah, the materials looked different too. Aha, this must be an entirely different ceiling.
There was no shoe cabinet in the entryway. Before me stretched a hall spacious enough to cram two Japanese houses into, and a corridor extending so far back the end wall wasn't visible. Corridors branched off left and right too, and a blue carpet covered the floor. It looked like a poorly rendered mansion belonging to some video game tycoon. No place for a shoe cabinet here. Back in the old days, I used to lay out my little sister's shoes too...
"Excuse meeee!"
Barging into someone's house and immediately apologizing—I tried asserting my presence using that peculiar Japanese custom. Here I was, back at the spawning ground of my trauma, but surprisingly, I managed to sound calm. My empty stomach didn't even churn with acid. Though, if the basement was still here... how I'd react to *that* remained an unknown.
Following my lead, Fushimi held up 'Hello' in her notebook. Politeness is a virtue, sure, but this was taking ineffectiveness to a whole new level. She'd always been a user of language that disregarded efficiency, but she was impressively thorough about it—I found myself uncharacteristically impressed. That's a lie, though, since I habitually use my own brain just as inefficiently.

Well then, responding to either my voice or Fushimi's notebook-ese, a voice drifted from the direction of the left corridor.
"`Yeees, just a momeeeent—ah ah ahhh ahh—`"
The reply seemed to double as throat-clearing practice. Maybe because the thick carpet swallowed the sound whole, there were no accompanying slipper noises. However, seeing the figure jogging towards us—clad in an apron and light-blue slippers—I could have sworn I heard a phantom *pitter-patter* sound effect.
The woman slowed down after spotting us, stopping while wiping her wet hands.
"`Umm! ... Who might you beee?`"
She asked who we were, her speech drawn out, elongating the ends of her words. She had a plump figure but was short, with gentle, easygoing features—an overall soft face. She gave the impression of a mother still retaining a touch of youth. If her features had been a bit sharper, she might have qualified as one of those 'gutsy mom' types.
"`......No.`"
"`Uh, well, I'm—`" "`Are you a couple, deaar?`"
My impression was she just saw a boy and girl show up and said the first thing she associated with that.
What was the point of confirming a relationship status less than that? What was this, a matchmaking service? Or did it fancy itself the town's secret make-out spot? She might declare, 'Sorry, the couples discount doesn't apply if you're just 'dating''—the thought filled me with indignation. For Fushimi Yuyu's honor, I should add that this entire indignant rant was a lie.
"`Oh my, is that soo...? Are you disappooointed?`"
The woman furrowed her brow sympathetically, continuing to pile misguided questions on me.
I'm bad with this type of person. If she wasn't naturally like this, I'd have plenty of ways to deal with her...
Even if I wanted to rely on my party member, Fushimi seemed to be afflicted with some kind of 'Confused' status ailment. She was muttering 'stocks, stocks...' while scribbling in her notebook, effectively taking herself off the front lines. Maybe it was good exercise, because she was drenched in sweat, her ears flushed bright red. Maybe a three-person party *would* have been more efficient after all...

"`...Oh my, visitors? How many years has it been, I wonder?`" As if answering my lament, another woman emerged from the corridor on the right. Whether she was rowing a lifeboat or adrift on a wrecked ship, I couldn't say, but she arrived bearing the hope of changing the situation's flow. The apron-wearing woman's interest also shifted from our potential coupledom to the newcomer.
"`Ah, Madam... Let's see, hasn't it been about six years, perhaps?`"
Apron-san (provisional name), bowing slightly while counting on her fingers, dutifully answered the woman she respectfully called Madam's half-muttering. ...Six years. So these people have lived here for at least that long?
The Madam approached us with elegant, graceful steps. She looked like a woman perhaps two or three years older than Apron-san. Her features, the 'parts' making up her body, were perfectly composed, as if meticulously cleaned daily like... a gas station restroom? Less 'beautiful' and more 'immaculately polished human'—she seemed like porcelain.

Among the people I'd met so far, she most closely resembled my sister's mother.
There was something detached about her, maybe? A way she had of observing people with apparent disinterest.
"`Natane, what business do these people have here?`"
So, Apron-san was called Natane. I had no objection to adopting the name and decided to refer to her as Natane-san in my internal monologue henceforth. That Natane-san tilted her head, 'Hmm?' The Madam pressed her fingers to her forehead, muttered, 'Points deducted,' and turned back to Fushimi and me.
"`Ah, forgive my late introduction. My name is Ooe Keiko. And you are?`"
Though she spoke little, Keiko-san took charge of the situation with crisp, sharp-edged words. She requested our names with just the right degree of firmness. She carried herself like someone accustomed to being in charge.
Whether she'd regained her composure or was just exhausted, Fushimi looked up at me, rubbing her upper arms. *She should just introduce herself first,* I thought, but Fushimi rarely spoke in front of other people. I didn't know what she was like with her family, but around schoolmates, she was completely silent. That's why her notebook was her best friend; if her own name wasn't stockpiled in its pages, she had no way to state it.
I'd seen my own name written in her notebook before, so the hope that she might thoughtfully introduce me herself was, well, kind of a secret.
"`Actually, I'm someone who used to live on this land before.`"
Leaving out my name, I revealed my connection to the place. I calculated that this might pique her interest a little—using my past as bait.
Keiko-san froze, as if time had stopped just for her. For a second, I worried we were characters in a video and someone had hit pause. But since I could still freely rotate my shoulders and exchange glances with Fushimi, I almost basked in a feeling of superiority... which was a lie, unfortunately. Too bad.
"`You... were the one?`" Natane-san, practically radiating question marks, peered at Keiko's face. 'Madam?' she asked, flustered.
It took several seconds for this Keiko-san to reignite. And then, she erupted.
`!!!` Keiko-san's face twitched, her eyes flew wide open, she shoved her face right up close to mine—it was like she'd taken the first step towards mastering the art of pulling a hundred faces. Does this land possess some kind of demonic charm that attracts one-of-a-kind individuals whose brains are basically mapo tofu?
And then, after a quick lick of her lips, Madam Ooe's eyes seemed to flash with a *kewpie* sparkle, and—
"`Kyaaaaaaaah!`" *Gyaaaaah!* I was grabbed in a hug! Frontal assault! Cheek-rubbing! Affectionate roughhousing—*gashi gashi*! Scalp-scratching—*gari gari*! Can't breathe! Goosebumps springing up only to die instantly! "`It's him! Ukya-kya-kya-kya-kyakya!`"
"`Abababababa!`" I felt like I was undergoing surgery to become some kind of crab-cyborg. Foaming at the mouth profusely.
"`Heeere heeere heeere he iiiis!`"
"`Dagidagidagidagidagi!`" *How's that for the cry of a new insect species?* proposed my brain, detached from the situation, completely ignoring my body's current predicament. Who would approve such a stupid idea? But I didn't even have the mental space to reject it.
"`This is him! The one! The... oh dear, what's the matter?`" Keiko-san, who looked like she was about to take a bite out of my head any second, finally eased up and asked what was wrong with me.
"`......Please, give me a break.`"
"`Oh, pardon me... It pains me to let go, but I shall respect your wishes.`"
She released me readily enough, and I collapsed onto my rear, unable to hide my gasping breaths, utterly spent. When I looked to Fushimi for rescue, she just puffed out her cheeks for some reason and didn't offer a hand.
Was she really that jealous?
Keiko-san braced her hands on her knees, looking down at me with a beaming smile.
"`You know, I'm a fan of that incident and the family!!`"
"`R-Right... thanks.`" Though the core of my being still felt rattled, I somehow managed to reply.
When someone declares something like that so innocently, eyes sparkling, even my gut is too deeply impressed to protest. My abdomen's only seed of anxiety is being called gutless on an Alpine mountain—That's a lie! Gyaah!
Staggering, I managed to get to my feet, now taller than Keiko-san. Still, it did nothing to dispel the aversion that had instantly reached critical mass. In a way, she was tougher to deal with than Natsuki-san.
"`I'd been dreaming that if I could ever meet you, I would ask to hear your story.`"
"`Haaah...`" Quite the statement from someone who, the instant her dream came true, threw words to the wind and practically assaulted me with a hug.
"`That's why I moved here! At last, good fortune has smiled even upon unlucky little me! Ohohoho.`"
The smile of someone fully aware they're making spectacularly effective use of wasting their life, money, and time is truly dazzling.
"`So then, what business brings such an esteemed personage to our humble abode today?`"
With that gentle tone, Keiko-san finally guided me back to the starting line.
Finally, after the pointless exchange with Natane-san and the sacrifice of my skin crawling thanks to Keiko-san, I could get down to business. It wasn't *my* fault we'd gotten sidetracked this time, dawdling or peddling new lies.
"`Actually, there's something I'm looking for in my old family home... though I admit I didn't expect it to be remodeled.`"
"`Oh... I do apologize.`"
This wasn't mere politeness; Keiko-san apologized as if genuinely stricken with guilt.
She wasn't a good person by any stretch, but she did seem to have the sort of personality that's true to itself.
"`When the house was being renovated, were the personal belongings disposed of?`"
"`No, absolutely not!`" she denied, clenching her fist. "`We've been putting everything to use!`"
Judging by the bloodshot look in Keiko-san's eyes, if I pressed the issue of ownership, she looked like she'd obediently pay up.
What on earth about that incident captivated her so deeply? I was starting to get curious myself, paradoxically.
"`Well then, would it be alright if I took a look around? Depending on what I find, I might need to borrow a few items. Within the scope of your permission, of course.`"
"`Of course. Please make yourself at home. Think of this place as your own.`"
She spoke as if I were an overnight guest. For someone who shows up at the front door in broad daylight and basically declares their intent to burgle the place right to your face, this was exceptionally generous treatment. Seemed suspicious, though.