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Rhetoric.
As Yuna and I began to toy with death in the guise of logic, no one else had the composure to interject.
It was precisely *because* of this situation that words and intentions flowed from our lips more freely than concern for human life.

"Then why did the person who murdered Mother make the house inescapable?" Yuna asked.
"Preventing escape and interference from the outside world... If you consider it honestly, the objective must have been the annihilation of the entire Ooe family. If killing just one person was enough, there'd be no need to trap eight people in a confined space with limited food," I reasoned. After all, the culprit would be risking getting trapped inside the house themselves.
"What could the culprit have been planning? Were they supposed to be included in this annihilation?" Yuna mused.
Her tone seemed to demand a confession, as if I were the mastermind. I decided not to put up a wall with any strenuous denial, instead playing the part and letting the question, along with my boredom, wash over me.
"Assuming the culprit intended to escape," I continued, "if, hypothetically, the house were equipped with a secret passage, only they would possess that knowledge, right? If several people knew about it—unlike if only one did—multiple figures would vanish at once, and those left behind would definitely suspect a secret passage exists. If everyone put their lives on the line searching around the clock, it would inevitably be discovered."
That would defeat the purpose of 'annihilation.' Not that such a plan could even get off the ground in the first place.
"And after escaping the house, they'd contact the police, and once the body and weapon were examined, the culprit would be identified. It'd be a complete waste of effort. It wouldn't just be murder; it'd be murdering their own plan and future."
"What about the theory that a third party was hiding in this house, completely unforeshadowed?" Yuna casually suggested.
"Unless that culprit happens to be agoraphobic, I don't see why they'd *want* to get locked inside the house. Either way, if they just waited, everyone living here would eventually be wiped out."

"Hmm, hmm," Yuna hummed noncommittally, swallowing my words without treating them as poison or medicine, before moving the conversation forward. "In that case, Father seems suspicious, doesn't he?"
The daughter, easily casting suspicion upon her father, surveyed the room with a smile devoid of both demonic allure and charm.
In response, Kouzou-san mumbled something, but right now, I was playing along with Yuna (the laughter was implied). Essentially, I treated him like noisy customers at the next table in a cafe – just furrowing my brow at the disturbance, lacking the social grace or sense of justice to engage directly.
"Well, certainly," I murmured in agreement, at a volume too low to invite anyone else's ears.
He was, after all, the longest-standing resident of this house, likely involved in its construction, maybe even offering opinions. He was ridiculously suspicious. *But,* "That just makes him seem suspiciously obvious, almost glaringly so."
As if tuning into my brainwaves, my thoughts were fleshed out by Yuna's voice and words, emerging into the open. This downpour of amusement, far removed from either aid or attack, remained utterly neutral.

Entrusted with the finishing touches amidst our meeting gazes, I took over clarifying the reason.
"The handgun used to murder Keiko-san was one Kouzou-san purchased as a hobby. He kept it managed in his safe. Everyone knew that. Given that, it's self-evident that anyone would think Kouzou-san is the most likely culprit."
"Touka mentioned something like that suspicion lightly when she was alive, didn't she?" Yuna added.
Yuna seamlessly integrated Touka's death into the common knowledge. Akane glanced at her sister, as if trying to smooth out the faint edge in Yuna’s tone, but failed. Her lack of aggression often hindered such opportunities for interaction.
………… Well, being modestly mourned by just one person, perhaps Touka found some happiness in death after all? She and Kiyoshi-san were just victims, anyway.
Both she and he had firmly established their innocence while alive.

"This foolish talk, pretending to be a joke, is grating!" Kouzou-san finally succeeded in cutting in, so we decided it was time to deal with reality. "Yes?" I prompted lightly, priming the pump.
"If you really know who killed Keiko, then spit it out! Are you planning to say, 'Natane had the gun, that's why'?"
Kouzou-san eyed me with utter distrust, his gaze so warped it looked like you could stick a flathead screwdriver in it. I deliberately answered with an air of nonchalance.
"The person who killed Keiko-san was... well, if you want to call them the culprit, it was Takahiro-san."

This time, there *was* a stir. Fushimi's eyes went wide. Kouzou-san, after a grand display of stunned disbelief—"Takahiro?"—clenched his teeth, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. "That's impossible! Takahiro was also killed... What are you talking about?" Out of the corner of my eye, Natane-san glared at me gently.
Apparently, an explanation needed to be included.
"Keiko-san was shot by her own will... she *wanted* it. That was the beginning of the plan she envisioned."
"Wanted it...?" The master of the house looked blank for a moment. Then, immediately after, he seemed to shake off his stupor and aim for the haughty heights. Thanks to Kouzou-san looking down on my explanation, he seemed to get a bit cocky, pointing things out in an upward-inflected tone.
"You! I don't know what grand ideas you're cooking up, but Takahiro would never dirty his hands with something like murder, even if Keiko wanted it! He was mine and Keiko's doll!" he added, further defending his son.
Judging by the content of that rebuttal, Kouzou-san's essential nature might be someone who handles things within the bounds of common sense, smoothing out the rough edges.
.........In that case, was it Keiko-san then? Though it might have been a joint effort.
"Could you perhaps interpret that the opposite way?"
"...What did you say?" Hesitating for a moment in his triumphant mood, Kouzou-san furrowed his brow.

"What if, precisely *because* he was a doll, he could kill someone even without murderous intent?"
This remark of mine didn't elicit an immediate reaction. *'What if you buy a product even without desiring it?'* In TV shopping, the skilled presenter would win, but I guess it doesn't quite click when it comes to murder.
"Among the ten people in the house, there was only one person for whom the *motive* for murder could be *given*, rather than created. Kouzou-san, I believe you know this better than anyone."
My suggestive way of asking twisted Kouzou-san's facial muscles in an interesting way. Fushimi, perhaps just going at her own pace, still hadn't cleared away her question marks but was listening to me.
"So, that's why it was Takahiro?"
"Yes," I affirmed Kouzou-san's blooming understanding.
"If Keiko-san ordered him to kill her, Takahiro-san, who held his parents' words as absolute law, would carry it out. Using the exact method specified—that is, with the handgun, kill her from the window's position while she was in the garden."
Being able to speak of the imagined events as if I'd witnessed the whole thing was slightly exhilarating. It made me want to be talkative. Ignore any heckling like, *'Aren't you always pointlessly muttering to yourself anyway?'* Missed hearing it, too bad.
But Takahiro-san, huh? He left so little impression I can barely recall him outside of that first day's chopsticks incident.
"And after that, Keiko-san 'ordered' him to take several actions to prepare for locking us in the house and ensure the success of her own little prank. That's why Takahiro-san didn't listen... no, *couldn't* listen to what you said, Kouzou-san."
An "Ah," of stunned realization crossed Kouzou-san's face as he understood the true nature of the unease he'd felt before.
In short, the planner of this murderous theatre was Keiko-san, and she had also served as its first victim.
"A plan... you said. Keiko's. What on earth was she trying to do, going so far as to use her own life?!"
"I'm explaining that in order, so please don't bite my head off more than necessary."
"Huh? Who the hell do you think you are? Do you think you have the right to talk like that in this house?"
"Shut up," I said rudely, considering his unbearable rambling. Naturally, it had no effect. If anything, fueled by rage, Kouzou-san stood up and started to close in on me. As his forward-leaning bipedal form approached, I glanced away wondering what to do, and in that instant—
"Father," Yuna called out, without any particular mockery specified, beginning to function as a fire extinguisher.
"What is it!" Kouzou-san snapped, whirling around violently, but the primary objective—making him stop—was certainly achieved. Just like me, she used only a single word, yet elicited a response that wasn't defiance. Perhaps I should learn from her.
"Let's judge its truth later. For now, let's gather the information that only he seems to possess," she said in a gentle, cutting tone, calming her father down with a hint of mockery.

"If we silence him here, every culprit will become ambiguous, and Natane will keep her mouth shut as well, and we'll face another tomorrow. Is that really alright?"
This time, she pushed and pulled at Kouzou-san's heart from a more desperate angle.
With that, Kouzou-san finally managed to regain some awareness of propriety, grinding his teeth as he re-landed his rear end on the chair.
I took a breath myself, loaded what I'd said so far from memory, and connected the sentences.
"The reason Keiko-san went into the garden wasn't because someone called her out, nor because she was chasing a shining flying object in the eastern sky; it was planned. That position, not too close, not too far, actually had some effect on the confusion, even leading some to wonder if she was dead or alive. And, I think it was also because she wanted us to notice early on that we were trapped."
She used herself as part of the staging, to make things more interesting. Something like that, probably.
Kouzou-san scratched his scalp hard, muttering like someone indignant about a test question covering material beyond the syllabus.

"Keiko... wanted to be killed... If that's true, then, what was the point...?"
"Since it was a result she desired herself, would it be classified as a painful mercy killing?" Probably. Or maybe suicide using another person as a tool.
"Why?! Even if it was suicide, why do it like this? Because of this, this house is already... it's become such a mess... Things were supposed to be going reasonably well for us. But ever since you people came, why did things turn out like this...?" *Because that was Keiko-san's plan.*
Behind Kouzou-san, who had stopped even considering the possibility of suicide and was now resentfully blaming us, Yuna narrowed her eyes mockingly. Her lips curled up in a sneer, as if saying, *'You heard all that and you still don't get it?'*, which she covered with her hand.
Fushimi in the front row, like Kouzou-san, was peppering the air with question marks. She didn't seem to be actively trying to think, though. Her presence wasn't sharp; it felt more like she was just attending a lecture.
"Um, is an explanation necessary?"
"Of course it is!"
"Let's wait until the discussion progresses a little further," Yuna interjected.
"Don't mess—" "Alright! ...Next letter, please!"
I let it slide, following the progression of time and schedule. I watched Kouzou-san's mouth close forcibly without meeting, then surveyed the room. Akane looked dazed, Natane-san was watching intently. Fushimi had no questions written in her notebook, so she remained silent. Not exactly an enthusiastic crowd.
"Then, what about Takahiro? The day after he killed Keiko, who killed him?!"
And so, it was Kouzou-san again. Reminds me of those kids in school who frantically study ahead, proudly raise their hands in class, get praised by the teacher, and are resented by their classmates. Just kidding, though; he seems pretty dejected.
"Oh, Takahiro-san also committed suicide."
Kouzou-san's eyes flew open as if something had struck him square on the head. Seeds of doubt seemed to sprout from his hair like mushroom spores. Unlike Fushimi's, his all seemed to have sharp edges like konpeito candy.

"Suicide...? Takahiro too...?"
"Yes," I stated firmly, omitting any uncertain phrasing. If I'm wrong about this, my own life will be precariously exposed.
"Is that also part of this 'Keiko's plan' thing you're talking about?"
"...The knife sticking out of him was one Takahiro-san brought out on the day we arrived at this house, while he was serving meals." I vaguely alluded to Kouzou-san's question while evading it, then continued. "Regarding Takahiro-san's suicide, I have proof."
Come to think of it, if I were this confident without any proof, I'd want to praise myself in a complex sort of way.
"Assistant Fushimi."

Suddenly appointed to a position she didn't apply for, Fushimi responded with a strange little sound, "Fumah?"
"My 3D pocket... guess not. Search my yukata sash, if you would, and take out what's inside."
I requested the procedure to bring the physical evidence of the case into the light of day, affecting the tone of an English gentleman. Well, not like an Englishman would explain it in Japanese, though.
Following my words, my assistant rose from her chair. Ignoring Akane beside her and the three behind her, Fushimi toddled over to me, wrapped her arms around me from behind, and started rummaging against my body. ...Putting it into words like that felt like it could invite misunderstanding.
Fushimi, perhaps because we're contemporaries, seemed embarrassed, her hand movements clumsy.
"... ..." *'This?'* *"Question mark."*
A crumpled fragment of a label rested on Fushimi's left palm as she brought her hand out.
"Yes, that's it."
A flimsy thing, more transient than a boat made of bamboo grass, looking like it would fly away if you blew on it.
"Now then, what could this be? Fushimi-kun, please show it clearly to everyone."
I asked Fushimi to take the evidence around and show it to everyone. They each craned their necks, joining the quiz even though they'd been looking gloomy.
"What does something like this have to do with anything?" "Chicken." "Like." "Fried cheese sasami." "Exactly! This is the murder weapon. You stuff it in their nose, like this, and squeeeeze!"
It seemed a couple of idiots were mixed in, but everyone was wrong.
Perhaps unable to watch any longer, or perhaps waiting for a chance to assert her presence, it wasn't clear, but—
"Is that something I bought at the supermarket, perhaps~?"
Natane-san, who hadn't opened her mouth once since I'd tried to strangle her, despite being showered with insults and questions by Kouzou-san, suddenly spoke the correct answer. As she did, she slightly adjusted her seating position in the chair she was tied to.
Meeting everyone's gaze head-on, Natane-san returned a gentle smile.
"Wherever did you find that, I wonder~? I'm extremely interested~."
Her drawling speech from the first day was fully restored. It was unsettling how she seemed to become gentler when cornered. Combined with a serious discussion, it could easily induce sleepiness.
"Actually, this was placed, rather deliberately, in the toilet of Takahiro-san's room."
"Ah... I see~. So, as I thought, you weren't the culprit behind anything, were you~?"
Just like that, only Natane-san easily deciphered the truth. Kouzou-san was left out in the cold, his face an empty mask, devoid of timing and vitality.

"Exactly! I've been falsely accused so much my shoulders got terribly stiff. Also, I apologize for choking you earlier without warning."
"Not at all~. It was bone-breaking work, so it must have been very hard for you~."
"Oh, indeed it was~. But since you're the mastermind who beat me to a pulp a few hours ago, I suppose we're even, so I retract my apology."
"Oh? What could you mean~?"
"Because that attack, regardless of the timing of the power outage, was impossible without prior knowledge that it would happen. And isn't Kiyoshi-san about the only one who can operate the electrical systems in this house? Not that anyone seems to have formally checked everyone's skills."
"But, I'm quite good at it too~. I can type click-clack on a word processor."
"You persuaded your husband, didn't you? Telling him everyone would feel safer if only I were incapacitated."
"My, is that so~?"
And when planning their independent action, realizing it would be hard to persuade the timid Kiyoshi-san by suggesting 'killing,' you proposed 'imprisonment' instead, which is why you couldn't deliver the final blow. After all, if you don't feed someone in a cage, they'll die naturally anyway.
Ahaha! I paired up with Natane-san and we laughed ourselves silly, completely absorbed. Only Yuna was quietly following along behind us. Akane and Fushimi were doing their own thing, letting events unfold. Kouzou-san was completely lapped.
"A meat product label... What does something like that have to do with...?"
"Regarding this matter, we will now have an explanation from Saka Natane-san. Please listen quietly."
I designated her, recalling elementary school assemblies.
Everyone except Yuna turned around. The remaining three faced her.
And Natane-san greeted the attention with a wry smile.
"It's a little difficult for me to say it myself~."
She stuck out her tongue with a 'tee-hee' smile, which suited her so well it was terrifying. Just how old are you? Makes me think of Natsuki-san's縁 (connections/karma)...
"I appreciate you passing the floor to me, but may I please decline~?"
"Ah, er, that's fine, but..."
It's just, I thought everyone might get bored if only one person kept talking.
"Ah, but~, may I say just one thing~?"
Contrary to her phrasing, without waiting for anyone's permission, Natane-san bowed her head deeply.
"I apologize for only being able to serve poorly seasoned meals recently~. As the one in charge of meals in this house, I am truly filled with feelings of inadequacy~."

She expressed her apology not just to the master of the house, but to everyone. It didn't particularly seem like an act. Which is precisely why it seemed likely to develop into more problems.
Seriously? You're saying *that*, in *this* situation?
"That has nothing to do with anything right now! Hurry up and talk about something more important!"
Kouzou-san completely dismissed the servant's apology, yelling and berating her.
In response, Natane-san showed a subtle sign of defiance. "What a thing to say~," she retorted, her face, particularly her lips, tightening. It was the kind of warped pride that could trigger a needless conflict.
To smooth things over, I resumed the explanation without even checking the script. Kouzou-san should probably understand just how full of twisted playfulness his wife was. For that purpose, here's the truth and supplement regarding the Ooe family's food situation.

"Basically, what I'm trying to prove by presenting even this piece of evidence is that Takahiro-san and Keiko-san each disposed of most of the food in this house before committing suicide."
I filled in the lines Natane-san had abandoned. Kouzou-san, as if on cue, reacted dramatically, his eyes darting back and forth. If there isn't someone reacting overtly, there's no point in me talking, so he's actually quite important.
The Akane-Fushimi combo fundamentally has no intention of engaging in independent reasoning, so they're passive. Yuna is listening with only enough attention to review memorized dates from Japanese history. And the one who knows the most detail is, naturally, Natane-san. In fact, you're a witness to history. I really wish you'd take up the role of storyteller.
"I estimate that by the time Keiko-san's body was discovered, she had already ensured only about one meal's worth was left in the refrigerator by her own hand. The seasonings were thrown out too, which is why the meals tasted so bland."
If there were salt or sugar, they could survive longer than just drinking water.
That would go against Keiko-san's intentions. She must have disposed of everything, ignoring trash days and sorting rules.
"What do you mean, 'left one meal'? Besides, it wasn't just one meal. We had meals served, didn't we? What are you trying to explain!"
"...The meaning of 'one meal's worth' was something like a stopgap until the next food procurement."
Now, from here on, things become extremely animalistic and indecent, the path of humanity turning into a beast trail, so please bear with me if you have the stomach for it. Actually, you can't turn back even if you don't. However, I don't believe I've done anything particularly wrong, so looking down on me with warm eyes might also be amusing.
I tried casting a gaze with that sort of meaning at the five of them, but I wonder if it reached them. It's a bit empty if I'm out of range. Not lonely, though. Come to think of it, I need to renew my cell phone contract.
My solo broadcast having ended, I offered an unhelpful supplementary answer to the bewildered Kouzou-san.

"What you all ate last night, Kouzou-san. Even though that one meal's worth should have been used up, it was quite a luxurious menu, wasn't it?"
At this reference, he first looked blank. But understanding instantly spread across his facial muscles, making Ooe Kouzou twitch and turn pale.
Maybe that was a bit too easy to understand. Even Fushimi, who wasn't keen on mystery plays, showed a change in expression.
"Meat... It was meat. Don't tell me..."
As his complexion died, Kouzou-san unconsciously pressed his abdomen. This was probably the moment in the past few days he'd become most deaf to reason.
"No, it's a lie... Then," "Yes. That was Ooe Takahiro-san's flesh."
The one most shocked by those words was Fushimi. Her notebook probably didn't contain the characters for cannibalism. My English-Japanese dictionary also had 'hitokui' omitted – makes me want to file a complaint about this defective product. Though the user himself is broken, so perhaps it's fitting.

My gaze met with the one who, like me, had realized the nature of the meal but said nothing, merely avoiding it with a simple 'I have no appetite.' Her cheeks were gaunt, her hair had lost its luster. Yet her eyes, as if malnourished from the very beginning, neither gained nor lost any vibrancy, fulfilling only the role of 'seeing.'
Staring at each other, devouring one another with eyes far removed from any mammal's, seemingly wide open to swallow what they perceived, I was starting to find the sleepiness unbearable, so I tried to speak quickly.
"In this house, with no supermarkets or convenience stores, once your body runs out of fuel, hunting is the only way to procure food."
Not much different from the Jomon period. Though maybe this is worse. The prey is far too limited.
Fushimi covered her mouth and folded her body in half from the waist. If my arms weren't broken, I would have taken her to the toilet and rubbed her back, but the wholesaler isn't stocking parts, so I'm forced to act as a bystander.
While toying with vacant thoughts like, *'My little sister would probably eat it without a problem.'*
"I read in a book that human flesh tastes sour. Something about it being similar to pomegranate. Whether it really tastes like that is knowledge permitted only to those who have actually tasted it, I suppose. How was the flavor?"
Kouzou-san sealed his lips, his cheeks puffing and deflating rapidly with nausea. He clearly didn't have the time to entertain my banter. Natane-san looked like she had time, but didn't seem playful enough to engage with me.

In reality, perhaps they used some leftover citrus fruit to remove the gaminess. I won't mention anything more about the taste, so as not to upset Fushimi further. I'm not the protagonist of a cooking manga. Though that sounds more peaceful, doesn't it? How about Maa-chan's Heart-Pounding Eight-Year Aged Chocolate Class? Ah, wait, that demotes me from protagonist to taste-tester.
"When Touka commented on the taste, I had a vague idea. So I wondered if it might also be evidence that Takahiro-san disposed of the food on Keiko-san's orders, and I rummaged through his room."
I continued my explanation glibly, but no one reacted anymore. Akane seemed to be lost in remembrance of Touka, staring at the ceiling. Fushimi was suffering from her 'hangover,' and Kouzou-san had even started shedding tears over having devoured his son. Having no other choice, I tried signaling Yuna with my eyes to act as a plant, but she just let out a wild "Wooow," freezing the atmosphere. No, even that drew no attention from anyone. Yuna scratched her neck, trying to neutralize her embarrassment.
"Besides that product label, there were no other usable blades or anything else in Takahiro-san's room."
I reported the results of the investigation, but again, only my own voice spread through the dining room. Somehow, I started feeling like I could just retire from being a detective and go back to my room, so I decided to try proposing that we cut the story short. But then I realized they weren't listening anyway, so that suggestion would probably be ignored too, and gave up. From now on, I'll just focus on organizing the events of the past few days in my head.