---

---

"Right then. Maybe I'll search here one more time until around noon... and then I'll contact Koibi-sensei."
I map out a one-day-only spring break schedule for myself and rub my eyes.
Still, why did *I* have to greet this new, yet utterly hopeless, morning so damn early?

I return to the root of the question. I can accept being woken up by the noise.
But it wasn't *my* sleep-talking, so I felt absolutely no need to get involved.
If it was something related to this house, the commotion would eventually reach me anyway.
With that optimistic thought, I decided to take a bath first. Haven't had a morning bath since I reunited with Mayu.

About twenty minutes after I'd started soaking, even when a scream erupted – less like tearing silk and more like a log being pulverized by a karate chop – I stayed put in my room. Feeling slightly annoyed about the bathroom door, I dried my wet hair with a towel. That shriek sounded like Natane-san letting out an absolute battle cry, but it wasn't motivation enough for me to get up.

"Gunshots, followed by a scream... Feels like the Toei Movie Village Spring Festival right from the morning, doesn't it?"
Hmph. Even if it was some major incident shattering the Ooe family's peace, what did it have to do with me?
If it did, *it* would come find me on its own. And before that happened, I'd make my escape.

Eventually, after nearly ten minutes, the door let out a rhythmic creak, announcing a visitor to its temporary master.
...I tried sounding tough, but what would I actually do if trouble really came knocking?

"Come in," I said, inviting them in without bothering to check who it was. The visitor, likewise, stepped inside without trying to ascertain who was in the room. It was someone unexpected. Since I hadn't imagined anyone in particular from the start, it turned out I was prepared for whoever showed up—a very efficient state of mind. That's a lie, though.

Ooe Yuna, wearing a different yukata from yesterday, strode right up to me without hesitation. She even had a nightcap on her head, which looked utterly, unprecedentedly ridiculous on her. It was painful to see—so jarringly wrong it was almost on the level of *me* suddenly starting to talk like "Mii-kun, neee~". Fatally incongruous. No, actually, it suited her, but it felt so much like *I* was the one wearing it that I found it hard to acknowledge.

" "Good morning." "
......Okay, *this* kind of overlap is fine. Yep, a friendly greeting between us.

*Ahem, ahem.* After clearing her throat rather than coughing, Yuna began to state her purpose for entering a gentleman's room.
"That sound just now, like gunshots. Did you hear it too?"
She asked with no particular urgency, with the same casualness as asking, "How'd you do on that test earlier?"
"Yeah. Not the best alarm clock for a rude awakening. Plus, it's a public nuisance."
"You think?" Yuna muttered, glancing away.
"And Natane's scream earlier?"
"So it *was* Natane-san. Looks like I can be confident in my Japanese listening comprehension skills after all."
Not that it seems likely to affect my test scores, though. I always hover around average in Modern Japanese. If they ever got rid of the kanji dictation section, maybe Mayu and I could happily attend remedial classes together... ah, so that's how it could happen. I'm still so shallow, I reflected negatively, then looked up at Yuna, who was waiting for my gaze.

Yuna smiled like a faceless *nopperabou*, hiding her "Took you long enough" impatience, and prefaced her next statement with, "So, even though you figured all that out..." Then, somewhat mockingly, she continued,
"...you were still off having an out-of-body experience, soaking in the tub like some Edo commoner enjoying the 'good life, good life, ah-bibanonnon' morning bath bliss?"
"'Shouldn't you first be impressed that a healthy high school boy was using the bath for something *other* than peeping?' I countered."

"'I suppose,' Yuna replied dismissively, her agreement sounding utterly flat.
It wasn't exasperation, but rather a kind of smug satisfaction, like she'd found someone who met her standards, that shaped her expression.
"'Well then, shall I modify that backside of yours to lunar specifications?'"
"'Actually, I feel like this is the first time we're actually communicating.'"
Up until now, it felt like we were just... cruising past each other.
Yuna replied, "Indeed," with a smile less satisfying than thrice-steeped tea, pausing for a beat before adding,
"I came to inform you that Mother, Ooe Keiko, is dead in the garden. Care to come and see?"

Down the stairs from the second floor at a quick pace, emerging into the first-floor corridor. Turning left here leads towards the main hall and the entrance, but Yuna turned right. I followed. Passing a total of six rooms, three on each side, we hit the wall at the end of the corridor. Then, without hesitation, Yuna turned left down a branching passage, and I followed her until we arrived at the window overlooking the 'body'.

"I've brought him," Yuna announced to Kouzou-san, then melted into the group gathered near the window. And just like that, the palpable tension radiating from the assembled group—everyone except me—was completely neutralized by that ridiculous nightcap. What an annoying presence.

Fushimi hurried over to me from the window. Her complexion had changed to a distinctly bluish hue. She skipped any morning greeting, just shaking her head frantically side-to-side and clinging to my arm, having lost even the composure to use her notebook.
"'You're better off... not looking,' Fushimi lamented frankly."
"'...Probably,' I said, distractedly patting her head while observing the surroundings.

Around the window with its iron bars clustered Kouzou-san, Kiyoshi-san, Takahiro-san, and Touka, each wearing a unique expression. Natane-san, having collapsed, had retreated to the wall, looking bored like a student waiting for a teacher's long lecture to finally end, standing one step back from the group. And Yuna stared out the window with narrowed eyes. Akane seemed lost in her own world. *[Self-correction note: Original text description places Akane looking bored near Natane, Yuna staring. Added Akane's state here for clarity based on later context].*

Keeping Fushimi, who wouldn't leave my side, placated with my right hand, I approached the window to observe the scene outside.
The window was wide open, set for ventilation, but I wondered if letting in the outside air right now was really a wise move. Since I wasn't part of the Ooe family, I kept my opinion on the matter to myself.
The view was of what looked like the backyard. On one spot of the window's iron bars, there was a scraped mark, almost like something had melted it.
Beyond that, lying face down in a patch of grass—part of which was a lurid scarlet, despite no flowers blooming there—was the figure of a woman.
......Honestly, from this distance, I couldn't tell for sure if she was actually dead.

The clusters of weeds swayed in the faint breeze, forming a single current.
Beneath them, glimpses of reddish-brown earth.
And the high walls, seemingly built to conceal everything within, made the dead body blend into the everyday scenery.
Why wasn't everyone going outside to check 'her' condition more closely? Why had Yuna brought *me* here? The questions suddenly popped into my head. But this wasn't the time to stir things up with independent actions or careless remarks. I'd keep my suspicions on hold.

Well, assuming it *was* a corpse. Since there were nine of us gathered here, the remaining person had to be the deceased, by process of elimination.
Meaning, just as Yuna reported, it had to be Ooe Keiko-san.
...That girl who looks like she attracts malicious stalkers... she's here, but doesn't seem part of this, somehow. *[Referring to Akane's strange detachment].*
And once again, someone had died right in front of me.

Hearing someone, probably Touka, mutter, "No way... it's a lie, right?", something suddenly clicked.
Right. April Fools' Day ended yesterday.

---

*Eight long years since I moved to this land.*
*Finally, the windfall has arrived at my doorstep, the botamochi has appeared on my shelf.*
*Perhaps because my life until now has been one where I could eat as much shelf-botamochi as I pleased, this feels wonderfully fresh. My passion, which couldn't settle down even after starting a family, has now found its kindling and is blazing brightly. So, how's the stew simmering? Natane.*
*...Hmm, the potatoes are like rocks.*
*It's fine, think of it like New Year's Eve soba.*
*Today is a festival, so boorishness is forbidden at our family celebration.*

---

*Chapter 2: Death by Knife*

*By what twist of fate did I marry a woman who was a pure-bred lady? After many twists and turns.*
*We arrive at the present, with this family.*
*For me, it's a comfortable family environment.*
*It's isolating, perhaps, but no external enemies approach.*
*However, it's still too early to resign myself to the reality of living off my wife's money.*
*Now, when the image of fatherhood I envisioned is crumbling beneath my feet, is the time I must rouse myself!*
*...First, perhaps I should try and find some kind of re-employment that affords a father some dignity.*

---

Naturally, we found ourselves gathered around the dining table.
Less than an hour had passed since discovering Keiko-san's body (allegedly), and even at this time, with the morning sun still on its commute, the air temperature was already lukewarm. That was appreciated, but there didn't seem to be anyone suitable in the room to convey that sentiment to. Her husband, Kouzou-san, kept his mouth and eyes tightly drawn, maintaining silence. Next to him, Takahiro-san sat with his arms crossed and eyes closed. Kiyoshi-san, seated one space away from Kouzou-san, scanned everyone's faces, his brow furrowed in the uncomfortable atmosphere. To Kiyoshi-san's left was Touka, staring down at the wood grain of the table. Next to her, Akane dangled her legs, looking bored. Occasionally, when her eyes met mine, she'd flash an innocent smile, as if demonstrating her excellent teeth alignment. Natane-san was currently absent, having announced she was preparing drinks in the kitchen.

Across from me sat Yuna, and beside me, Fushimi. Both were looking at me. One smiled as if at a failure, the other didn't hide her fear. I was trying my best to reassure Fushimi with my left eye while shooting sparks at Yuna with my right.
But when I tried, my optic nerves started twitching, so I resigned myself to looking at them alternately.

I almost clicked my tongue in irritation at being held up by this unexpected situation. But the sound was drowned out by the sound effect of glass falling and shattering in the kitchen. Eight pairs of eyes converged on the kitchen.
No one got up. Then, just as quickly, everyone's gaze returned to its original position.

Merely discovering a body shouldn't necessitate gathering around a table like some family council. Japan has police, and this isn't some isolated island in the middle of nowhere or a snowbound mountain lodge.
However, the problems that seemed prepared one after another, capitalizing on Keiko-san's death, might have forced us to put our heads together. At least, for everyone except me, Yuna, and perhaps Takahiro-san, the tension of facing this crisis was taking center stage.

Honestly, since the only entertainment at the table was the ticking of a clock, I was similarly bored out of my mind. But suggesting to Fushimi that we go out to the garden for badminton wasn't a wise move. Because she'd probably agree immediately, and then, to remedy the awkward number of three players, I'd have to strong-arm someone else into joining, completely sucking the oxygen out of the room. Is that the only thing I can say? So it would seem.
Besides, the whole problem is that we *can't* go out into that garden—or rather, near the body.
Anyway, now's not the time to be buying up resentment in bulk. After all, it looks like we'll have to continue living here for a while.

The kitchen door opened. Natane-san returned, carrying glasses on a persimmon-colored, Japanese-style tray that looked like it should be holding rice crackers and green tea.
"My apologies. I dropped one of the glasses, so cleaning it up took some time..."
"Ehh? Was it mine?" Akane asked Natane-san with enough piercing brightness to change the very air in the room. Natane-san glanced back towards the kitchen once, then said,
"Um, I believe it was young mistress Touka's glass. My apologies." Saying so, she bowed her head to Touka. Touka remained silent, not even looking up.
"Mmm, okay then!"
"It's *not* okay..." Touka reacted quietly to her sister, but Akane paid her no mind.
Natane-san first placed a coaster in front of Kouzou-san, then set a glass of water on it. With a stiff smile, Natane-san circled the table, placing out nine glasses of water. As she placed mine in front of me, I noticed her hand was trembling slightly, but I just gave a slight nod in return.

I picked up the glass, took a sip of water, and swirled it around on my tongue. Just tap water, containing neither lemon nor vigor. 'Well water tastes better,' the country bumpkin who has nothing else to boast about let a sense of superiority dwell at the corners of his mouth. Well, that's a lie, though. Honestly, there's hardly a difference.

Putting the glass back on the table, I glanced around and saw that only Akane and I had actually touched the water. Kouzou-san and Touka were just scowling at Akane and me, their hands not moving. Judging from their glares, it seemed they were gauging our reactions, letting us serve as unwitting poison tasters. And they observed me, drinking without any caution, with an attitude that was definitely not favorable—perhaps suspicion, perhaps exasperation. Kiyoshi-san, understandably, wouldn't suspect his wife, but seeing his employer, the master of the Ooe house, suspicious of the water his wife brought, likely kept him from feeling peaceful. His eyes darted busily back and forth in repetitive motion. Takahiro-san remained mid-meditation, and as for Yuna, she maintained her crumbling smile as if to say, 'I *only* drink apple tea.' Characters who affect this kind of余裕 (composure/余裕) have a high probability (I feel) of becoming the second victim. If they can just survive that stage, their chances of living to the end likely skyrocket, so they don't need my encouragement; no cheers from me. Probably because she, too, harbors a similarly futile second impression of me, like comparing acorns or playing an endless game of tag just to measure up.
Good grief, facing an artificial doppelganger is like finding fault with your own heart.
A thought occurred to me: does a doppelganger also face imminent death if it meets itself?

Fushimi was clearly in no state for water. She looked like she'd burst into tears instantly if someone played peek-a-boo with her. Though the person doing it would probably have their own tear ducts collapse for different reasons.
"Um, shall I perhaps take a sip from all of them?" proposed Natane-san, having moved to sit beside Kiyoshi-san again, reading the room. "No, it's fine," Kouzou-san waved her off, then, after a beat, picked up his glass. He tilted it, drank about half, and then a strained smile appeared.
"Please don't take it the wrong way," Kouzou-san said to Natane-san.
"The possibility that someone sitting here right now is the murderer is extremely high. I think it's only natural to be on edge."

Several gazes converged on Kouzou-san. I limited my reaction to my ears and brain. My mouth especially kept quiet.
"No... a murderer... eh, among us... eh..." Kiyoshi-san stammered in a frantic voice, his desire for denial laid bare.
So that was the reason for the family's recent preoccupation with poison.

But Kouzou-san's way of speaking just now made it sound as if *he* was outside the bounds of mere nervousness. Trying to act composed by nonchalantly uttering grave words seemed counterproductive, making his attempt transparent. It was clear he wanted to seize the initiative here—the advantage of speaking first, the right to dictate others' attitudes and positions, and ultimately, the right to be relied upon. If the master of the house simply acted with dignity, he'd likely attain that status naturally, but perhaps various motives were swirling within him.
But if that's the case, he needs to be careful with his words.
Trying to solemnly restate the obvious is proof of a slow mind. It's merely buying time to think of an intelligent remark.
...Is it obvious, though? Why he took that obvious path, the process is unclear.
Perhaps he wanted to attach some other meaning to that mark on the iron bars; that, too, hasn't escaped speculation yet.

"Well then, I'd like to get to the main topic soon. Is that alright?" Kouzou-san opened for business as the facilitator. Hm? Had we all gathered here with our heads bowed just to have a discussion? I thought at least a couple of us were waiting for breakfast. Isn't *that* a much healthier way to use a dining table? Just kidding.

"Which *is* the main topic?" Touka snapped at her father, looking thoroughly fed up.
"Obviously, that Keiko died—no, was *murdered*," Kouzou-san deliberately corrected himself, emphasizing homicide. Touka didn't interrupt further and returned to her former state, looking down at her lap.
"And also, how we are going to live in this house from now on—" *Tap, tap.* He rapped the table with the first knuckle of his middle finger. Hm. To me, this is a mansion, but to Kouzou-san, it's 'home.' It's slightly amusing how easily the difference in perspective can be compared.

Before Kouzou-san could start talking, he reprimanded an instance of impropriety he'd noticed.
"Takahiro. Have you been dozing off this whole time?"
Addressed by his father, the son's eyes snapped open, revealing unfocused-looking eyeballs.
"I was offering silent prayers to Mother."
Takahiro-san replied mechanically with a perfectly reasonable statement. A single, deadpan sentence that left no room for rebuttal.
Kouzou-san looked awkward and twisted his mouth. It formed a downturned 'he' shape [へ], and I found myself focusing on the contortion, thinking that with a little more effort, he could probably manage a 'ya' shape [や].
"...You. You look like you want to say something." Having caught my eye, he tried to use me as a shield for his own embarrassment. If I played the part of a silent youth here, Kouzou-san's embarrassment would be pushed into the past, forgotten by everyone. He could reset the conversation advantageously.
Alright, then maybe I'll touch on the point Kouzou-san is avoiding. Let's be true to my malicious self.

"Given the gunshots earlier, we must consider the possibility that the murder weapon was a handgun. Does anyone in this house possess such a thing?"
Of course, I couldn't very well honestly admit I'd been pondering the third type of battery after dry cells and wet cells—how about a 'slip-cell'?
I didn't miss how Kouzou-san's eyes reacted, even through his eyelids, to my spur-of-the-moment question.

But before I had time to pursue it, a heckling remark was thrown in from the side.
"You know... that sounds pretty fake." The one snapping this out, as if it were becoming her designated role, was Ooe Touka.
"Fake?" Understanding perfectly well what she meant, I performed the suspect-like action of parroting her words.
"Because, no matter how you look at it, the suspicious ones are you and that girl over there! Someone in the family suddenly dies right after you two show up—it'd be crazy *not* to suspect you!"
Even as she furrowed her brow, this was her most logical objection yet.
Last night, out of the ten people in this mansion, six were family, two were servants, and two were outsiders. It would be more suspicious *not* to view the outsiders with suspicion. But that, too, was almost too perfect—
"But... doesn't that seem a little *too* convenient? Am I the only one who thinks so?"
My minor variation (though from her perspective, it's probably the opposite) came sailing in with a rescue boat, going on the offensive.
Touka glared at Yuna with eyes that couldn't quite become harsh, threatening the start of a quiet sisterly spat. Akane, sandwiched between them, was challenging her glass to a match, trying to lick the surface of the water with her tongue. I couldn't help watching her with the heartwarming thought: 'Is she just innocent, or is she the culprit? One or the other.' That's a lie, though.
"Their arrival might be *a* cause of something, but I don't really think it holds much more value or meaning beyond that."
"So, are you trying to say one of *us* killed Mom?"
"Precisely *because* it's family, perhaps a motive arises. Family bonds make for poor grounds for denial, you know? Your footing seems rather unsteady there."
*Hee hee hee,* Yuna forced a laugh out loud. Less Yuna, more like a witch. As if showing off to me that things like family bonds needn't be considered in the reasoning, she twisted her expression around her eyes.
It seems the relationship between these two sisters is best expressed as two pieces of sandpaper grating against each other.
They both cut short their verbal sparring before it devolved into pointless bickering, saving energy by looking away.

The dining room fell silent, like the aftermath of a plane's engine noise fading away.
As the one who spoke up, I guess I have to be the one to move things forward a step.
"So, about that handgun-like object?" I tried returning to the main topic.
"Ah..." Kouzou-san hesitated, then admitted, "A handgun I bought as a hobby... it's locked in the safe." He confirmed it, simultaneously revealing why he hadn't brought it up himself. It was a circumstance that could instantly make him a prime suspect; the violation of the Swords and Firearms Control Law seemed to be ignored. But, from Yuna's perspective of things being *too* convenient, this too was shielded by its own suspiciousness.
Besides, judging by the lack of any overt reaction from the other Ooe residents, personal ownership of a handgun seems to be common knowledge here.

"Right then. If we confirm whether the handgun is in the safe, and then search everyone's person and the mansion, we might be able to identify the culprit." I added a layer of uncertainty at the end as a precaution. If it was just left in an empty room, identification would be impossible, and even if it was found in someone's private room, there's the possibility someone else planted it there. And above all, anyone hiding it would make every effort to ensure it wasn't found, I realized as I said it.

Also, the idea that a third party, someone not in the mansion, used the gun to kill... or perhaps stole it from the safe and shot Keiko-san... seems unlikely. The scraped mark on the iron bars, and the lack of bullet holes on the inside wall, indicate it was fired from within. ...Then again, we haven't even confirmed if Keiko-san was shot with a handgun in the first place.

Kouzou-san shot me a look that implicitly accused, 'I was just about to say that!' Has the realization that his own wife has been murdered not yet sprouted?
... That's also possible, with that body. It's just a bit too far away.

Kouzou-san grudgingly withdrew his solo accusation against me and resumed playing the role of coordinator.
"We'll check on the handgun together later. Anyway, Keiko... has been killed... And the other problem is... the front door."
His tone held more gravity when speaking of this than it did regarding the lost human life.
Which is understandable, as this problem was currently and actively endangering him too, so it wasn't somebody else's problem for Kouzou-san.
Yes, as a further problem, the entranceway had been sealed.
An electronic lock had been engaged on the door, the switch destroyed, the handle removed, making egress impossible. That was why they had to view Keiko-san from the window, Yuna had explained after I saw the body.

And I had confirmed the solidity of the lock and the despair of the situation at the actual scene earlier that morning. Long story short, it was to confirm the reality that we were trapped.
After we had all stared our fill at Keiko-san sprawling freely in the grass, and the dazed moments had passed, I was informed of the reason the police hadn't been called.

The mansion's phone lines had been courteously snipped, and as for cell phones, it turned out nobody owned one. The young ladies of high school age—Yuna, Touka, and Akane—all lived like shut-in princesses, not attending school, and apparently, none of the others had lifestyles requiring them to receive signals from the outside world either. Consequently, for a fleeting moment, expectations and attention focused on us visitors, but being unable to meet either, our credibility hit rock bottom and took a nap. Fushimi had just come along in the clothes she was wearing to kill time, so her only possessions were her notebook, mechanical pencil, and eraser—the 'Three Sacred Treasures'.

And as for the cell phone *I* had, when I went back to my room to check, I found it imitating an air freshener, taking a dip in the toilet. I naturally refrained from voicing the potentially decapitating opinion that I was lucky it was fished out *before* use. The fact that someone had snuck into my room while I slept, and the sheer idiocy of letting it happen, completely stripped away any value I might have held in the eyes of others. The frog in the well missed its chance to leap out onto dry land and shrivel up, huh. Just a common lie, though.