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I will reclaim Boku. So I can be called Mii-kun again.
*Lying Mii-kun and Broken Maa-chan 5*
*The Pillar of Desire is Bonds*

**Fragmentary Chapter: "2-Piece Puzzle"**

Most things start with Mayu pulling the strings. Lately, pretty much everything I do traces back to her.

Near the end of March, when spring break seemed to be striving for year-round status, Mayu lost consciousness in a state of utter confusion.

Normally, I'd want to focus solely on that, dedicating over seventy lines to painstakingly engrave the emotions, scenery, circumstances, my own twisted position, and state of mind. But, though it tears my guts out, I'll summarize it in one line. Well, actually, in my current situation, I doubt losing my guts would make much difference, so I can act all cool about it… Just kidding about the summary part. Seriously, what am I even trying to say, lying in the synopsis? I almost want to interrogate myself.

Digression aside.

So, April 1st. I set out alone, heading for the mansion once used by kidnappers—according to public perception, anyway—all for the sake of Mayu's recovery. From my perspective, it was my former home. Along the way, I teamed up with my younger superior, Fushimi Yuyu, and together we knocked on the gates of the "Ooe family," who had moved onto the property after the incident.

What awaited us at the Ooe residence were ostentatious iron bars fitted onto the windows and a goosebump-inducing welcome.

Mrs. Keiko, the wife of the Ooe family, forging ahead on her own misguided path, welcomed my bloodline with open arms. In exchange for permission to search the premises, we were asked to join them for dinner. The deal was struck.

Later, as promised, we attended the dinner party, where Mrs. Keiko, eyes gleaming, enthusiastically suggested we stay the night. For various seemingly complex but actually simple reasons, Fushimi and I decided to make use of that free lodging voucher.

And then, the next day, Mrs. Ooe Keiko was found dead in a spot in the back garden where confirming her answer would be difficult.

Furthermore, the front door was so thoroughly locked and secured that escape became impossible.

Cut phone lines, submerged cell phones. We were trapped, caught up in the dysfunction of this shut-in clan. Suspicion surfaces, deadly weapons within reach, iron bars blocking escape to the outside world.

And then, the next problem brought about by the confinement:

The dwindling supply of food—a biological necessity for maintaining life, along with satiety.

Well, after various things happened, the eldest son, Ooe Takahiro, died the following day.

More suspicion surfaces (etc., etc.), and Fushimi and I, as outsiders, are grilled by the head of the household, Ooe Kouzou. Food becomes restricted, days pass with no hope of rescue.

And then, at night, I spent the night with Fushimi (slight misrepresentation there).

On the fourth day, the youngest daughter, Ooe Touka, vanished without even qualifying as a corpse.

Seven people remain.

Is that seven survivors, or seven *left*? Perspective aside, for now.

***

I met my wife over ten years ago.
I sometimes worry that I might be bound to the Ooe family with lifetime employment. Yes, oh my.
I find myself unable to adapt to this current life as well as my wife has. Yes, quite so.
Having a master-servant relationship woven seamlessly into daily life is suffocating. Yes, indeed.
I vaguely think about wanting a home of my own, not this mansion. Yes, I do.
When that time comes, I intend to directly petition for my daughter's return. Yes, without running away.

**Chapter 3: In the Dark "Night of Spreading Murderous Intent"**

Yes, my name’s Saka Natane~. I handle all the housework for the Ooe family.
I take particular pride in receiving my wages as the person in charge of meals.
The Mistress can only make stew, and Miss Touka only fried eggs, you see~.
Everyone in this house keeps on living day by day thanks to my cooking.
When I think about it that way, it’s quite encouraging, really~.
Kiyoshi-san also says my cooking is the best.
I’m just endlessly grateful to the Mistress for introducing me to this job~.
…Um, is there anything else I should talk about?

***

**3**

Leaving Touka's room with Fushimi, ready to leave the nest. Just kidding, though.

"There wasn't really anything to do, and it wasn't very interesting, was it?"
Fushimi shakes her head, her slightly flushed cheeks breaking into a smile.
"Watching you makes me feel all fuzzy and happy."
"...So I'm like a drug to you?"
My middle school homeroom teacher used to say that swallowing about eight headache pills at once makes the world feel lighter.

*Question*
Fushimi makes her notebook dance. "What is it?" I ask, prompting the content. Her throat clicks.
She pauses, like she's filling her neck with helium—*gug*, *gug*, *gug*—then squeezes out the question.
"Schoool triiip souvenir." "Was tasty." "Question mark."
Bringing up old memories again. That was last volume's story, a different chapter of life.
"It was sweet. Thanks for the treat." *Was tasty.* "Exclamation point!"
"Whoa!" She shakes my head vigorously back and forth. Wasn't 'sweet' a synonym for 'tasty'?

And now she's demanding my opinion on the taste. Since I'm someone who lives by words—so much so that I practically vacuum up people's resentment with my excessive freedom of speech—I naturally complied with such coercion like a good little cog in the social machine. "It was delicious." Lies, all lies.

"Case closed." Fushimi releases me, looking pleased.
*From now.* *What do.* *Question mark.*
"Hmm... Maybe I'll try playing the unexpected detective role."

While we were talking, we reached the area around the second-floor staircase. Right as I psyched myself up to play detective, I thought, "Hm?"

Suddenly, shadows enveloped the entire world. My vision was reduced to staring uselessly into the darkness.
"Power outage?"
My whole body felt slick with tension, like being caught in a sudden rain shower.
Then, the sense of a sound, incredibly faint, of footsteps running across the carpet.

At first, I thought maybe Fushimi had jumped on me, haunted house style.
But the impact came crashing down from above.
"Oof!" Red, not sparks, scattered in the darkness. Something smashed *hard* into the back of my head. Without pause, another blow struck the back of my neck. My legs gave out, and I sank face-first into the carpet. My mind could still function, despite the intrusive pain, but my body's got loser specs, so recovery wasn't an option.
Damn carpet muffling footsteps... what a wickedly designed house.

Fushimi, sensing something was wrong, cried out, but I was already out of her groping reach. A succession of thudding sounds. They weren't aiming for my head after the first hit, instead attacking my back, shoulder blades, and then, after kicking me over, my stomach. I wish they'd make up their mind whether they want to kill me or not. Seriously, Fushimi, run! The proper way to use me is as a decoy, so run! This is the most useful I've ever been in my life. Let me have this moment. Don't just stand there frozen like a flower that won't bloom; make a swift exit while the curtain's down.

The attacker's assault enters its final phase. Right, right, take too long and you'll be in danger.
Someone crouches down, ragged breathing close by. Then they grab my left arm, "&%&T%—(*translation garbled*)—&!#8,!" Ignoring my struggles, they used something as a fulcrum against my elbow and snapped it. The sound of bone shattering echoed distinctly through my own muffled agony, rattling my eardrums.
Pain rooted itself from my toes to my forehead, even behind my ears, and I threw up nothing but stomach acid.
Satisfied with that, perhaps, or just knowing when to quit, the assailant made a swift getaway, the vibrations through the carpet told me. Not harming anyone other than the intended target... such a gentleman.

My mind was still flickering in the green zone of tolerance, but my body finally gave out right there.
Passing out. Didn't look like I'd be coming back anytime soon.
How uncool, in front of Fushimi... if word got around class, the student council... Just before my consciousness shattered, the first thing I worried about was whether Mayu and I would still be in the same class when we moved up to third year.

***

Today’s art class involved boys and girls drawing portraits of each other.
Not my favorite genre. By the way, I tried using words from manga and adults, but what exactly is a ‘genre’?
Facing me, drawing, is a pale-skinned girl. Even though she doesn’t exercise or anything, her cheeks are always red. Because of that, for some reason I don’t know, she gets bullied.
The girl is glaring at her drawing paper, looking obviously reluctant.
Neither the girl nor I looked at each other’s faces even once as our pencils moved. We’re in the same Hyakunin Isshu club, but we don’t talk there either.
But because of our seats in the classroom, it couldn’t be helped.

Since I couldn’t use the girl as a reference, I just carelessly drew the face of someone vaguely stuck in my memory. I drew the lines, hoping to finish quickly and get back to being bored.
Next to us, about twenty minutes after class started, a girl approached a boy and girl who were just about to start working. Even without trying, their exchange drifted into my ears.
"Um, Wakita-san. I, uh, was hoping we could switch places... is that okay?"
The girl, clutching her drawing paper, pencil, and a blue bag with paints, made the suggestion, looking anxious, or rather, a little embarrassed.
Wakita-san checked the expression decorating the face of the boy sitting opposite her, then smiled. It was an unsettling mix of amusement and understanding.
"Sure. Who's your partner?"
"Oh, thanks. Um, Takeda-kun."
"Hmm," Wakita-san turned her head. "There he is," she spotted Takeda sitting alone, spacing out. Then she gathered her supplies to make them easier to carry and stood up.
The girl who got to switch glanced nervously at her new partner as she sat in the empty chair. The boy was smiling cheerfully, so the girl seemed relieved and her expression softened.
These two are often together in class, getting teased or joked about by friends. I don’t remember either of their names. I think someone called them something like Beach-something Peach-something.
"Hey, Mii-kun."
Ah, right, right. The boy was Mii-kun. Was the girl Moo-chan?
"Hm? What is it?"
"Asking for something selfish like that, um, I'm sorry."
Maa-chan apologized to Mii-kun. *Wrong person,* I thought, scratching my right eye. I decided to just let their conversation be background music.
"Let's make sure to tell Wakita-san that later, okay?"
Mii-kun must have thought the same thing, gently correcting Maa-chan like a guardian. I don't know if Maa-chan felt down or not. Her gaze was fixed on her drawing paper and the classwork.
"But it's just like you, Maa-chan, so I think it's fine."
Mii-kun's next line sounded like damage control. Also, it was Maa-chan. Moo-chan is a chubby boy. While drawing eyebrows on my paper, I peeked up at the two of them.
Mii-kun was grinning foolishly, and Maa-chan looked crestfallen and dejected.
"Am I really that selfish...?" *Yep,* this outsider nodded to himself.
"Yeah. At home too, you're always asking your mom and dad for lots of things."
Mii-kun praised Maa-chan's home life with a bright smile, not sarcastically. But Maa-chan seemed to take it as being treated like a child and pouted.
"That's not true. Daddy always tells me, 'Mayu, you're such a kind and good girl.'"
"Mm, that part's true. Maa-chan is kind, and you are a good girl."
The words were so direct they almost bent my listening ears at a forty-five-degree angle.

Maa-chan, hearing this, turned bright red, caught between happiness and embarrassment.
My own partner, the girl opposite me, watched them with an exasperated sideways glance.
Mii-kun continued chatting, as if conversation *was* the main task.
"But you were kinda late asking, weren't you? What were you doing?"
Maa-chan answered in a voice so faint it was almost drowned out by the sound of pencils on paper.
"Because... everyone else was sitting, and I was too embarrassed to stand up alone..."
"So you couldn't work up the nerve?"
"That shyness of yours hasn't changed since forever, huh? You couldn't sing at all in music class earlier either."
Mii-kun was referring to the singing test we had before lunch. We had to sing one by one in front of everyone, accompanied by the music teacher. A lot of kids hate it.
The girl in front of my eyes and drawing paper had also sung with cheeks more flushed than usual. In my case, I figured no one was listening, so I was fine.
"It's funny, you hum tunes just fine in your own room."
"Because with you, Mii-kun, it's okay," Maa-chan said, leaning forward, hands on her knees.
The two stared intently at each other, their pencils now in a staring contest with the paper.
"Hey, wanna come over to my house today?"
"To your place, Maa-chan? Sure."
"Yay!" She clapped her small hands together, making a surprisingly loud noise. Perhaps fearing the attention the sound might draw, Maa-chan shrank back, glancing around at others' reactions.
Her darting eyes met mine, making her look down. I turned my face back to my drawing paper at a speed that wasn't exactly leisurely.
"Okay, let's start drawing soon," Mii-kun prompted in a warm voice.
"O-Okay. I feel like I could draw your face without even looking now, Mii-kun," Maa-chan said, sounding a little proud.

These two. Mii-kun and Maa-chan are pretty much always together.
It's kind of amazing how Mii-kun manages to have lots of guy friends too.
As for Maa-chan, she trails around behind Mii-kun like that, and more importantly, she has a well-made face, so apparently, the girls bully her quite a bit. Not that I care.

Art class was two periods long, but I finished my drawing in the first hour and showed it to the teacher. The art teacher seemed amused, asking, "Who's this?"
Apparently, the girl I was supposed to draw wears glasses, but the person in the picture had the bone structure of someone with good eyesight, so it was an obvious giveaway. Just kidding, though.
Thinking about it after being told, the person I drew kind of resembled my little sister.

And then, I went home from school.
I failed to keep my promise of "See you tomorrow, teacher."

End of the revolving lantern show.

When I realized what came next, I was back in the basement.
For the first time in eight long years.

***

In the abyss, seeking light, yet simultaneously fearing the darkness. My five senses, sharpened by hunger, combined with cultivated experience, told me:

This was a space where many people had been killed.

However, just figuring out my current situation, even my posture, was difficult. My naturally ragged breathing felt annoying, so I focused first on holding my breath. Difficult. Irritating. That's why I resorted to the shortsighted action of slamming my forehead against the ground, trying to knock myself out. Hm? Forehead... oh, which means I seem to be lying face down. The feel of the hard, sharp, cold floor against my cheek and nose confirmed this conclusion.

My nostrils twitched, picking up the scent of mold, dust, and earth.
My sense of smell was working much more acutely than usual…
...And yet, my 'reaction' to this basement is faint. My heart's really something else.

"...Guh..."
The moment I became aware of my body, intense pain lodged itself in my blood and circulated. Two red lines streaked through the dark world. I couldn't even roll side to side to writhe in agony; all I could do was clench my teeth.
"How very thorough, indeed..."

Both arms wouldn't move. My fingertips could bend, but even the slightest exertion sent pain sharp enough to make me lose consciousness shooting from around both elbows. It felt like the moisture behind my eyes was drying up. Were my elbows broken, or dislocated? I vaguely remembered the attacker dealing only with my non-golden left arm before fleeing. After that... Fushimi must have cried and made a fuss, so maybe the remaining Ooe residents—excluding Touka, and Mrs. Keiko and Takahiro, of course—found me because of her voice, and then my right arm was destroyed.

Come to think of it, I think I woke up for a split second because of the pain. Was that when they were trying to fold my arm compactly and bent it the wrong way? I'm pretty sure I saw Fushimi's crying face, unsuited for any airwaves other than radio broadcasts, illuminated by a flashlight for an instant—my brain cells imparted this knowledge to my unreliable heart.

At the very least, it seemed Fushimi hadn't been attacked by the assailant in the dark. I guess I was lucky not to be targeted by the murderer either... but should I really feel relieved?

Bones grated complexly against each other, the pain resonating up to my forehead. When it comes to restricting a suspect's arm movement, there was none of that indirect stuff like tying hands behind the back; this was a procedure devoid of any shred of friendliness towards one's own kind. If I'd been sent as an alien to evaluate Earthlings, this water planet would dry up by tomorrow. I'd subject them to a living hell with water torture designed to dehydrate them. And then the *greater* aliens monitoring the aliens who witnessed that act would... Right, this isn't the time to be pointlessly expanding the furoshiki. My head was starting to throb enough to spout blood like a whale yearning for the sea. It got hit pretty hard before I passed out, serving as a substitute sleeping pill. My body, too, was tormented by a dull ache, as if aliens had nested inside and were holding an evening tea party.

Hm, is it night now? Down underground, telling time is impossible. Anyway, to summarize, somehow, through some unknown process, I was brought here and imprisoned. Or perhaps, *this* is the method of murder. Still, maybe it was samurai's mercy or a free service period, because it seemed my head had been bandaged with gauze or cloth to stop the bleeding.

I focused on my abdomen, using the knot of my obi to check the location and safety of the items tucked inside my yukata. The "door opener," the "pointer," and the "brightener" were still there. Okay, things aren't completely backwards yet.

Putting strength into my knees and toes, I used the wall as a back support and managed to stand up. I couldn't tell if my head felt light or heavy, but my balance was off, causing me to sway. As I did, my right arm brushed against the wall, and pain like a chestnut burr invading my blood vessels almost made me fall again.
"...Snapping a guy's arms so cheerfully, crack crack."

And me without any Senzu beans. When I get out of here and see Mayu again, I'll turn this into a self-deprecating joke: "I'd break any number of bones for you." To that end, I made a beeline for the door, staggering like a drunk. I couldn't care less about the contradiction right now.

However, the person who broke my arms probably doesn't know. The person whose arms were broken once experienced the same thing in this very basement. Because, you see, they had to go that far just to appreciate the sight of me screaming and crying.
"Stupid old man." Well, actually, it was Maa-chan who broke them back then. In those days, she'd at least apologize afterward.

Ahh, I miss Mayu. Though I don't think I quite long for her yet. Hm, is the order wrong?
My Mayu deficiency is becoming serious, messing up even my ability to prioritize. It's an addiction, in a way.

Unable even to straighten my borrowed, disheveled yukata, I reached the entrance/exit.
The door was, naturally, blocked. That's the reason for that square, inorganic object's existence. First, I need to check if it's locked. "Hmm." Can't use my hands, which is a bit inconvenient. I wish they'd left me just one usable right arm; that would have been a stylish touch. I've ingested poison before, so I have the aptitude. But I lack the training from milk delivery or farm work, so it's hopeless.

"...Okay."
I fell backward. Back flat on the floor, I raised both legs, hooked them onto the doorknob, and twisted my body. "Agyagyagyagaga!" I'd already forgotten about the broken arm. My left arm, crushed under my own body, felt like it shattered—no, wait, it actually *is* shattered—felt like it fragmented—no, no, it already *did*—anyway, the pain was eye-poppingly intense. Was I modified into some freaky bird-man while I slept? Groaning, I used my knees and heels to inchworm my way back up, face-up version.

"The worsening injury meant I couldn't even stand upright, so I started jumping up and down to organize my thoughts. Just kidding. My voice was afraid of the dark, wouldn't flap its wings to go outside. Must be night-blind, I guess," I adopted a tolerant attitude... "Huh?" I realized I was, for some reason, rambling my inner thoughts out loud. Stop jumping.

Hmm... Am I shaken? Feels like tree roots are crawling up from the bottom of my heart.
"Sleep."
Probably.
The energy to check the lock was sucked away by those roots. Taking deep breaths, I did a rough circuit of the room. Enough time passed for radio calisthenics to reach the second routine before my feet finally felt grounded. I couldn't even wipe the sweat dripping into my eyes.

There was no one else in the room but me. No one else, and nothing else. What unpleasant exclusive use. Even though this is the basement of "Kouzou's" "mansion" (not the Yamakawa variety), it's not built like a labyrinth, so there's only one entrance/exit.
And I'd already tapped into the limited initial stock of willpower flowing from my heart to my limbs. "...Overdid the exercise right after waking up. Feel nauseous."

If that's the case, there's only one thing to do. Stop struggling.
It seems they're giving me the opportunity to become a shut-in. Just kidding, though.

Once more, I collapsed onto the unforgiving bed. No room left to muster any gentleness.
Even as my head hit the floor again, both arms screamed with the extremity of pain from the impact, and my butt registered a dull ache, I addressed the familiar, formless ceiling.

Here again, in this place. This time, it seems I won't have to fear waking up.
The faint palpitations and the feeling of something rising in my throat are just my standard basement specifications.

What's happening outside? Is it morning, noon, or night?
Is Fushimi not crying?
And has someone else been killed?

There's a mountain of problems to consider, pray about, and confirm.
But more than all that, I felt like seeing Mayu again after so long, so I decided to dream.
So I slept.
And properly entered the dream.

"What a cliché development..."
It's refreshing to hear my own voice come from my own mouth, reaching my ears without missing letters, though.
Regrettably, looking around, this situation doesn't seem like one where Mayu would appear.
Shoji screens past their prime, haphazardly placed flowerpots on the veranda. A carpet that would change the pattern of your clothes with lint balls if you lay on it was spread out, a square, charcoal-black table sat imposingly in the center of the room, and a picture of a golden egg perched on a needle adorned the upper part of the wall.
What I was seeing, hand on the shoji, stepping over the threshold into the room, was a mealtime scene at my family home, before the renovations.
Apparently, I've been changed back to my old specs too. My line of sight is corrected to half its usual height. For something constructed inside my head, the difference in spatial perception due to height was surprisingly well represented. Almost as if I'd really gone back to the past.