---

---

"Fushimi...? You still alive?"
I call out to Fushimi. She's got her face buried in her pillow, limbs sprawled out—looking like she'll mummify if she stays like that.

Her right heel lifted just a little. Not even using her notebook, the lazy bum. She hasn't even tried changing her clothes since yesterday; she seems pretty worn out. Come to think of it, what *has* she been doing about underwear?
Never mind bottoms, but tops... I imagine it'd be difficult to find anything compatible among the clothes of the women in this mansion... Handwashing, maybe?

I wanted to persistently ask about that, to push back against this time that relentlessly doses us with hunger and pain without fail, but I really can't force things on Fushimi right now. If I pile on any more pressure, it feels like her spirit will collapse before her body does. And the heart doesn't come with building materials, so even a carpenter would be out of luck trying to fix it.

"...About that promise... Just want to confirm it again."
Assuming I won't get a reply from Fushimi, I proceed with the one-sided conversation.
"We'll be saved soon... No, *I'll* save us. This isn't hope, or me trying to act tough. It's a certainty. So just hang in there a little longer."
Partway through, I remember it was a promise and change the subject of my sentence.

It's not like I'm expecting Koibi-sensei to actually *do* anything about the lack of regular contact. I don't trust people enough to leave our rescue up to others.
Shouldering the responsibility for one life might just galvanize my spirit a little. After all, I'm in a position where someone might 'request my final breath' any second now. That part depends on Natane-san's appetite—hanging by a thread, you could say.
Fushimi's left leg lifted, and she rotated her ankle.
Guess I have to repay the debt for the water she gave me. Though I doubt there'll be any interest.

I arched my back and tilted my chin up, and the back of this supposedly high-quality chair now creaked loudly..."
This 'little longer' is starting to feel like it'll drag on more than my entire three years of mediocre high school.
For now, the only way to get through this was with the kind of philosophy that gives you heartburn and weighs heavy on your stomach.

"Ughh..."
*If you've got the energy to produce philosophical groans, use it to keep the body running,* complaints flooded in from all quarters.
Nutrients: what a popular commodity.

Amidst all this, a murmur from my usually neglected, currently hazy brain echoed inside my skull: *Maybe we live life just to crush boredom, and Mayu is the perfect tool for that...?*
*Gack!*
Left unchecked, my brain started mulling it over on its own.
Fushimi Yuyu is devoted, exhibits no problematic behavior, makes no dangerous remarks, tolerates me talking to other women, is generally reserved, and yet possesses a singularly impressive bust. Even accounting for personal taste on that last point, from my perspective, she's the equivalent of a guaranteed college acceptance, an annual salary of 120 million yen, a first-round draft pick demanding *our* team—she's the whole Fujiyama Japan package. That's a lie, though. That's a lie, though. That's a lie, though. The atmosphere was such that I felt I wouldn't be believed unless I repeated it three times, so I try becoming a Fushimi Yuyu imitation, just internally.
"...Seriously, my brain must be starved of nutrients. (Ignoring the auditory hallucination arguing I'm always like this.)"
Basically, what I'm trying to conclude here is that she's the kind of person a guy my age, sharing the same space like this, would fall for with a pretty high probability. Just wanted to vaguely assert that.

As for me, well... things are swirling around, or maybe it's more like line-fishing for one specific target, or harpooning a whale with a single thrust, you know?
No, no, my focus is solely on Maa-chan, even if that dedication itself is a lie.
If I ask myself *why* I keep choosing to stay alive in this mansion, the answer is a perfectly suitable quantity—neither too much nor too little—just one single reason.

"...Why is that, I wonder?"
The reason I chose Mayu. A hazy thought I can't even grasp the tail of.
I always just watch my untamed emotions go by.
Never noticing, never understanding, always vaguely.
Not that there's any shortage of *stimulating* daily life, mind you.

April 13th. I've started to feel like I'm warping sometimes.
Given half a chance, my past self frantically tries to intrude. Maybe it's because my body is weakening unnaturally fast, more rapidly than simple aging, but my resistance isn't really rising up—it's just smoldering.
If I were to be hijacked, would it start around the stomach and intestines, or... hmm, the brain? My brain's already like mixed miso paste, so what's the big deal now? Since it's currently the most bored department in my body, I speculate it might actually *eagerly* hand over the borrowing rights. From the perspective of survival via hydration, having my digestive organs occupied would be a matter of life and death. But would the 'boku' from back when I was forced to 'fully enjoy' life underground even *want* to live? Highly doubtful. Calmly and objectively evaluating myself and concluding I'm untrustworthy... well, calling that conclusion hasty or forced wouldn't be fair. I'll probably need to ignore the assertions and arguments of my internal organs and focus on solidifying my defenses.
Fortunately, regarding my arms, even if they were hijacked, it wouldn't affect the overall situation much. Even if I tried to kill myself, making others—especially Fushimi—collateral damage would be extremely difficult, so I can rest easy on that point. I wondered if I should tell her this and peeked at her face, but she was asleep. And since my arms don't work anyway... I didn't do anything in particular, not to her neck or anything, just left her be, promised her peaceful sleep, and made my escape. I leaned back too far in my chair and toppled right over onto the floor, backrest and all. Around then, the malfunction in my pain perception seemed to normalize, and I came back to my senses.

After ending up in a position that protected the right arm trapped beneath me, I found myself staring, dazzled, at the red carpet.
"...That wasn't 'just kidding' or anything. I was seriously hallucinating."
I'd been on the verge of starting a fictional internal organ war. The alarm bells from my heart were pounding right up into my throat.
My hunger is becoming overwhelming, and because the situation increasingly resembles the time I was confined, my instability is growing.
It wouldn't be surprising if I slipped into an 'Itsuka Yuuma' state or something. Maybe I should stop staying in the same room as Fushimi?
But I feel like *I'm* the one who'd fall apart if I were left alone.
Somehow, I seem to be leaning pretty heavily towards becoming a total wimp. Whose fault is it? Whose influence? Or is this... growth?
What kind of emotions, I wonder, is my heart preying on as its favorite food right now?

April 14th. I still haven't abandoned the notion that I'm okay.
My vision is mostly reddish-black even though it's daytime, but that's just trends coming and going, so it's okay.
My sense of smell is filled with Fushimi's scent, but I made sure not to connect it to my appetite, so it's okay.
My hearing doesn't hear anything, so it's okay.
My sense of taste is dead, so it's okay.
My sense of touch has nothing to touch, so it's okay.
Fushimi isn't moving, but that's usual, so it's okay. Huh? Did she just twitch?
Wait, if she moved, doesn't that mean it's *not* okay? Actually, that's a big deal.
I chased after Fushimi. My supposedly okay legs felt sluggish and gave out.
Fushimi splashed the water she'd scooped up with a ladle onto my face.
And with that, I was confronted with the fact that I wasn't okay in the slightest.
At the same time, I was forced to reflect on just what I'd been revealing about myself. Bile rose in my throat.
And then, just as I was about to scream... Fushimi advised me, "You don't need to apologize."
My impoverished vocabulary easily buckled under that restriction.
I was so flustered, about the only thing I could think of was, "Thank you."
Because Fushimi didn't laugh at how fragile I was.
Just kidding, though.
Her understanding felt so all-encompassing, it made me want to roll up my tongue with my eyeballs and present it as an offering.
While I was feeling grateful to Fushimi, Natane-san departed, her shoulder and kitchen knife catching on the doorframe as she went.
...My tongue almost feels like tearing up. Somehow, that doesn't feel like a lie.
And yet, even so, was I deemed worthy of trust?
Acknowledging me for the hopeless case I am, in a way different from Fushimi?
Even though she must have witnessed the parts of me I kept hidden for the sake of pretending to be normal day-to-day.
How does Fushimi organize the inequality signs she assigns to people, I wonder?
Enough to believe in a mere verbal promise, enough to rely on me even though I've lost the use of my arms.
Enough to reject Natane-san today more than she rejected the me of yesterday.
Fushimi fits herself into the shape of my shadow.
And held firmly in her hand is a sharpened blade.

Abruptly, Natane-san came to the room, checking around.
It was early afternoon, around the time my symptoms had entered a lull and conversation with Yuzuyuzu had actually become possible.

April 15th. A day when my brain seemed to flip entirely, like night suddenly turning into day.

April 16th spoke:
Father could be struck. My sister's mother disciplined. My brother could be seated. My sister leaped, legs only. My sister's mother found the final breath.
Takeda-kun was fixated upon. Wakita-san's paint was white. Kaneko was by A's side.
Nagase was liked. Ikki was liked [by others]. Watarai-san became bitter.
Kouta-kun was given away. Anzu-chan was escaped from.
Ichimiya was invited. Yoshihito was stairs. Biwashima trampled.
Uncle was made to laugh. Aunt kicked upward.

Sugawara was allowed to live.
Natsuki-san tried to gloss things over.
Koibi-sensei could resist.
Fushimi was present.
Maa-chan was 'limitless'.

April 17th.
April 16th said all those things, but I didn't understand.

---
Things unseen never fade
---

April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th. April 18th.
Having crossed the mountain pass of the spirit, I remembered how to use dates again. I tried hard all morning to kill the entire day just by repeating this, but gave up in thirty minutes.
Still, today *is* April 18th. The day, long ago, when a certain incident ended.
I remember Mayu's parents. I remember Misono Mayu. I remember Sugawara Michizane. Father, you stay hidden underground. I pray for my sister's mother.
Finally, I buried 'boku'.

---

And then, April 19th.
From early this morning, Natane-san has been making a huge fuss, searching for her target prey to restock the refrigerator in time.
If she's searching high and low and can't find her target, that's gospel truth for us.
Because it means the number of people staying in the mansion has decreased further.
"Ah, is it finally time...?"
It was good news that made even someone like me break into an unintentional smile.
Well then, shall we head home from our eighteen-night, nineteen-day trip?
Forgotten items, souvenirs... check, no problems there.
I get Fushimi—who's completely exhausted, regressed to the point where she can walk on two legs but is incapable of running—to her feet.
"Come on. Let's go get some outside air."

---
**Chapter 6: And Then Someone Disappears**

Two visitors arrived and dried up the lukewarm bath of decay.
This path ahead is also ending soon.
The time to bathe fully in the outside sun arrives after so long, like the dawn.
Where shall I go from here?
Those who would stop me, those who would want me... they appear and disappear, then disappear again.
Even looking back, I see nothing. Turning back, there is nothing.
If there's not even a speck of lingering desire to go home, then surely, the decision to 'go' anywhere is also unnecessary.

---

I walk confidently down the middle of the corridor. A countermeasure, so that witty brat can't find fault with me.
Just kidding, though I've retained enough composure for jokes like that to surface.
Since there's no need to be afraid anymore, it doesn't matter if my mind isn't working properly.
In front of the stairs, I run into Natane-san, her eyes bloodshot.
"Oh my, human meat in a place like this?"
What a supremely ominous welcome. And since there are no onions rolling on the floor, I can't even distract myself.
Before she can close in, as if to block any intent to harm me, I quickly reveal my intention to offer information.
"Shall I tell you where Yuna and Akane are?"
"...You knooow?" Maybe she's short on calcium from her unbalanced diet; she mixes something close to a tongue click into her question.
"Yes."
Natane-san sizes up the truth of my words, then smirks.
"Is it really alright to tell meee?"
"Because if their whereabouts aren't made clear, we'll probably be killed first."
Natane-san scoffs at me, seeing I can barely speak a long sentence without pausing for breath.
"A sacrifice?"
"...I won't deny it."

I avert my gaze from Natane-san, meet Fushimi's eyes once, then start walking. She follows, keeping a fixed distance behind us, slowing her pace so as not to overtake her guides, closing in deliberately.
"It's rather straaange, you know, that you don't try to live like I dooo."
"Ah, yes, I suppose so..."
*Perhaps I'm just a pathetic creature desperate to live, someone who loves life more than you do. Sounds like a lie, though.*
Going down the stairs, I spend several seconds pulling the concepts of 'left' and 'right' from my memory. After recalling the details I'd crammed in overnight, I turn left and proceed straight ahead.
Passing through the hall, I turn left again. Continuing deeper in, I stop just before two adjacent rooms.

"The Mistress's room?"
Just kidding, though.
"Yes... that's right. Yuna and I investigated potential escape routes, and we found the lock on the toilet in here was made especially sturdy. So we decided, if it came down to it, whoever got here first could use it. Didn't you notice until now, Natane-san?"
"That's right... The Mistress always cleaned her room herself, you seeee."
Still acting like a teenager, that woman?
With a half-doubting look, Natane-san steps past me and Fushimi to take the lead. Thanks to the... food situation, Natane-san, brimming with energy and her skin practically glistening, naturally fell into the role of protecting us two, running on 1 HP.
Raising her knife, she steps cautiously into the room. Fushimi and I follow.
Nothing reacts as Natane-san stands in the center of the room, giving her drawn blade a flourish.
This room, the first in the mansion to become an empty shell, still seemed to reject any contents coming or going. An uninhabited room, dusty enough to stir the air.
After glancing left and right, Natane-san turns back to us.
"They're in the toilet, riiight?"
"Yes." I nod deeply, projecting confidence in the information.
"If this turns out to be a lie, I'll eat you two first, okaay?"
"If it were a lie, do you think we'd have followed you in here?"
"...That's true, isn't iiiit?" she murmurs, sizing up our condition, particularly our legs, and reaching an uncertain conclusion.
She'd judged that with limbs weakened by protein deficiency, we wouldn't be able to escape her on our own.
If she's going to pigeonhole things so easily, then I don't need to say anything more.
Just kidding, though.
It's not that we followed you; we brought *you* here.

Still, it's safer to watch danger's back up close than to be crept up on from afar and attacked from behind.
And Natane-san has forgotten one crucial thing about showing someone your back.
No matter how inhuman your diet, you don't grow eyes back there.
I signal Fushimi with my eyes. We'd planned this, so Fushimi gives a nod subtle enough not to alert Natane-san, showing she understands.
Natane-san shuffles towards the toilet and bathroom area at the back of the room.
"But my, you just casually betray people, aren't youuu? You're a terrible person."
"Coming from you, Natane-san, that sounds like nothing but a joke..."
"That's prejudice, you knoow. I don't betray anyone."
"...Right."
*Lying to someone who isn't an ally is just called 'deceiving.'*
Natane-san's knee slams into the toilet door. Annoyed at the food for wasting her time, maybe?
"If the lock is sturdy, I wonder how I should break iiiit?"
Saka Natane twists the doorknob, just giving it a try first.
And, without any trial and error, Yuzuyuzu and I make our attempt to continue living.
As Natane-san finishes turning the knob and pulls, "Oh my?" Easily, the unlocked door was released from its duty as a wall.
And of course, inside the toilet that opened without obstruction... was just the toilet bowl.
Without finding what she came for, leaving the door wide open, Natane-san turns around.
"Liars get punished..."
And then her tongue, perhaps weakened by malnutrition, seemed to lose its sharpness.
Natane-san's mouth fell open and wouldn't close. She was staring at me, still collapsed in the bushes outside the window, and Fushimi, somehow holding herself upright on two legs—we were *outside* the space defined as the mansion.
"Anyone wanna play tag outside, gather 'round *this* finger..."
Though barely breathing, I committed to the pointless gesture, offering a simple taunt to the one left behind.
Natane-san's eyes went wide. She threw down her knife and came running with clumsy steps. She grabbed the iron bars, her shoulder catching hard, making her grimace. She nearly slammed her rear onto the floor but caught herself with surprisingly supple ankles and warped knee joints.
*With a body like that, you can't fit through the gaps in these bars. If you could, there'd have been no point to what happened to* our *bodies.*

"Wh-what... ah, ah-ah-ah... phew." My throat choked up. My tongue, arguably my only weapon, wouldn't cooperate either, and for the first time, I felt a surge of resentment toward my pathetic physical state. It's a lie, though, so let's just ignore it.
Besides, seems like total annihilation was avoided, even without any advice from me.
"...What are you doing, sneaking out of the cage without permission? I didn't authorize any free-ranging, you knooow." Natane-san complained, giving less an impression of calm and more that she'd lost the ability to even begin processing her emotions. This must be her own way of maintaining normalcy.
Using less an infantry crawl and more the movement of a snake, I dragged myself out of Natane-san's reach, then opened my lips, which trembled too much to meet properly.
"This is... the escape route Keiko-san prepared."
It wasn't exactly a hidden passage. It existed openly, right in plain sight. But it was adept at slipping into one's blind spot—a 'thin passage,' you could call it. Aptly named.
The reason Keiko-san's window didn't have horizontal bars was also extremely simple: so someone could, after becoming like a facsimile of a body covered in wounds—utterly emaciated—slip through the gaps between the vertical bars.
First, Fushimi pushed her shoulder through, squeezed her body after it, and escaped into the garden. I'd actually been secretly worried her torso might get stuck, but my fears proved groundless, so I followed her.
With Fushimi's help, I evolved from a soldier hiding in the bushes into... a cheerful Bob. I felt like chewing some gum, but doing that now seemed likely to lead to choking and suffocation. My teeth had lost the ability to mesh properly, too, and my mouth was bone dry.
"Grazing time is ooover, so hurry back insiiide." She beckoned with little flicks of her hand.
"Sorry. We've been aiming for this ever since we found out the main entrance was blocked... We can't go back."
"If you're huuungry, I'll treat you to the little bit of meat that's left, okaay? Hmmm?"
"...That kind of defeats the purpose, don't you think?" That *was* the real reason for our unhealthy fast, after all.
The results of the diet we were forced to stake our lives on were proven the moment we slipped through that window.

Natane-san's honest distortion, overflowing with a strange gentleness, seemed to transcend mere ugliness or beauty, reproaching me with a grim satisfaction. Just showing her face in a summer children's movie would probably be enough to double as a test of courage.
"Honestly, if you'd just told me about that exit sooner, I wouldn't have had to serve everyone such coarse flavors and make them feel unpleaasasant, now would I? Even if that is my job... Pari Tarou-san, you're a terrible person. People who aren't picky about taste are always like this..."
Warped tone, distorted emotions, twisting complaints.
Natane-san's train of thought didn't seem to be heading anywhere my apology could reach.
Your values weren't just reversed; you were like some kind of potent drug capable of twisting the very framework of humanity into a grotesque form covered in protrusions. This current complaining was likely the culmination of Natane-san adapting in her own way, trying desperately not to lose sight of her own 'normal' while surviving nineteen days in this mansion.
It wasn't something to simply frown upon. Devotion to one's values—that's an attitude even I can sympathize with.
But it doesn't make you innocent.
Because, as a result, it's already established fact that you killed people and consumed their dead flesh.
To deny guilt based on your warped justification is as foolish as believing you won't be killed simply because you haven't committed evil deeds or harbored malice.
Any human, no matter how good, can be killed. And no matter how much evil someone does, retribution isn't guaranteed.
If it's wrong for the honest to suffer, then the only choice is to live honestly so you *don't* suffer.
Though in my case, I tend to cover myself up and block my own path to righteousness.
"But... we had our own circumstances... too."
Because, look, if people don't die, their rooms don't become available, right? In a house full of young daughters, I couldn't just go rummaging through rooms. Plus, I'd promised Keiko-san, before she died, not to enter rooms without the occupant's permission. So, it became necessary to let the situation of 'dead men tell no tales and need no rooms' spread through the mansion.
I couldn't afford to lose sight of my objective. I came here because I want to turn Mayu back into Maa-chan.
Just for the simple, straightforward desires of me and Mayu. For the festering bond between Mii-kun and Maa-chan.
Besides, if I'd revealed this escape route back when we were still playing mystery games, the coward in me worried unnecessarily that you or Kouzou-san might kill me out of spite. And more importantly, I feared immediate death, convinced that if I'd made this escape route public on the second day, the killer would have become even more frantic and tried harder to murder us.
So, with the mentality of a pathetic weakling clinging desperately to life, I had no choice but to keep quiet.
...Ugly. An attachment to my remaining lifespan so intense, I'd want to hold an Ugliness Festival without needing local permission.
"Let's go to the hospital."
"Quickly."
Fushimi gently pulled my shoulder, urging me toward our next action while pointedly avoiding looking at Natane-san.
Since when did I become so acutely aware of my own life?
Before my numb mouth could respond, a spring breeze rustled the grass. Fushimi reached up to hold down her hair and her notebook. Maybe because it had been so long since I'd seen such a simple, human gesture, I found myself slightly mesmerized.
"Yeah... Ah, but, before that, there's somewhere I need to go."
It's also a hospital, mind you. And maybe I should contact Natsuki-san, too. I'm basically treating her like a handyman at this point. But since her position is closer to a detective than the police, I'd appreciate it if she took that as praise, in my own way.
"In that case, where did the other little rabbits gooo...? I learned in Japanese class that chasing two rabbits at once isn't good, you knooow..."
A faint anger began to accumulate as a tremor in Natane-san's shoulders; her smile could no longer conceal it. Making sure not to get drawn into those eyes with their strangely dissipated pupils, I spoke.
Finally, I'll keep my verbal promise to you.
"Yuna... and Akane have already escaped from here. So, as for where they are, I already told you, didn't I? You must get it now? They're outside... the house."
When not telling lies, be thoroughly unpleasant. Regrettably, our family precepts lacked such an item, so I'm forced to treasure it as a personal motto. Just kidding, though it mostly turns out that way even when I'm not trying.
"Originally, according to Keiko-san's wishes, the only ones meant to survive... were Yuna and Akane."
Yuna, chosen by Keiko-san to fulfill the role of the original intended detective.