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The voice of my shy family member pierced my eardrums, interrupting the bond forming between one person and one animal.
"More like, hurry up and get out."
"Ah, yeah, yeah. So, have you got a boyfriend or anything?"
I tossed out a little barb to provoke my sister. She didn't get particularly flustered with anger, just pierced me with a look of contempt.
"Seriously, why don't you just go level up in a game or something?"
She finds me really annoying. Just like usual, huh. No, wait. If this is just daily life, that means it's normal, so it doesn't mean she *finds* me annoying! ...Or so I feel.
• What is this logic? It's full of holes.
Ah, whatever. Readjusting Miya against my chest, I smiled at my sister.
Hm, hmm. I *am* smiling, right? Since my opportunities to interact with people outside drastically decreased, I'd started losing confidence in making facial expressions. And I only really looked in the mirror when brushing my teeth and washing my face.
"You used to be so much more put-together and reliable."
Such a blunt criticism. I couldn't argue back, but a flippant remark still came out. In other words, not a hint of remorse.
"I'm still doing stuff like that kids' helpline, so if you have any worries, just tell me."
Although, the only call I got was once, several months ago. And the one two months ago was an SOS signal.
"Idiot. Having a useless sister like you *is* my worry."
She spat out the words, grabbed the strap of her handbag, and left the room. As I watched her go, Miya bit my finger. Oh, she's taken a liking to me. But it hurt a little, so I lightly feigned an "Owwie!" to teach her to control her strength.
They say the reason people like cats is because they resemble babies, but is that really true?
Hmm, but I don't think I'm *that* fond of babies. Does that mean that theory is a lie, then?
"Oh?" As if time had rewound, the footsteps heading towards the stairs reversed course and came back to the room.
My sister came back and started unleashing a stream of insults at me, like she'd recorded them somewhere else just for this playback.
"Idiot! Brute! Dummy! Dimwit! Oaf! Blockhead! Yes-man! Useless lummox! Loser! Slacker! Moron!"
"What did you say?! You're talking to the fair-featured, star attraction, upright and just, bold and fearless, decisive problem-solver, a match for a thousand, beauty that shames the moon and flowers, makes fish sink and geese fall, surpasses the master, pure and unadulterated, innocent and lovely, paragon of virtue, gallant and dashing, promising and full of hope... Spring Super Thank-You Sale Special Discount Day!"
"Wh-what was that?" My sister faltered at the unexpected retort.
"Just tried praising you a lot."
"Why? No, I totally don't get what you mean! And none of that even connects!"
"Oh, you actually gave me a long reply this time. I'm kinda happy about that."
"H-huh?"
I secretly considered shoving my finger in her mouth and rattling her back teeth.
"So, did you come back just to badmouth me?" I pressed, a silly grin on my face.
"Yes," she affirmed, matter-of-factly. And with that, my sister turned on her heel.
Hey now, isn't this the part where you're supposed to get embarrassed? She's so nonchalant... but that's fine.
Forcing myself to accept it, I looked up to find my sister still standing near the door. And she was looking this way. Miya rolled around in my arms.
"Maybe you should try being... a little more serious."
"...Serious?"
"Don't just stay cooped up here all the time. Wear something other than pajamas once in a while. And air out your room, too."
Offering this piece of advice, or maybe nagging, this time my sister really left, without answering my question.
"'Be serious'..."
My strait-laced sister's definition of 'serious' probably means someone with a steady job.
It definitely doesn't mean someone who holes up in their room in broad daylight, shouting 'The World!' every time they use a flash stopper in a game. Someone who doesn't deliberately count the seconds before announcing, 'Time begins to move again.'
"Ngh! ..."
But I failed as a doctor.
And at this point, it doesn't seem like there are any jobs I *can* do.
"Damn..."
'Serious' just means 'normal,' right?
Living without disrupting your daily routine... the name for that is 'normal.' 'Ordinary.'

What *is* my 'normal' life? What *was* it?
How have I lived my life, anyway? No, work... right, I worked. I worked pretty hard. Along the way, I had several patients commit suicide. I was told it wasn't my fault. I was also told it *was* my fault. My own self-assessment was terrible. I showed favoritism to some. There were many I couldn't save. That's why I quit.
The number I saved, the number I failed.
If you add them up, subtract them... the result is probably very close to zero.
Which means, basically, I'm no different than a mere freeloader living off her parents... I slowly shook my head.
Outside the window, crowds of raindrops seemed lost on the streets below. What do they even want to do, I wonder?
Deciding that being in E Sora's gloomy room was making me depressed—shifting the blame entirely—I decided to go elsewhere.
Gently placing Miya onto the carpet, I bid her, "Farewell."
Then, as I went out into the hallway and started to close the door, "Oh?" Miya, who had followed me, slipped out through the gap and came up alongside me.
"What, are you going to accompany me?"
Miya didn't meow, but she rubbed against my feet. Quite the friendly little thing, aren't you?
"Good kitty. Come closer." Bending down, I held out both hands.
Holding her felt so good. I picked her up, imagining if I might look like a princess or something reflected in a mirror.
Holding her felt so good, it made me wonder if she wasn't equipped with something like a 'Fur Coat of Happiness.'
If everyone could find something like this for themselves, maybe I'd still be a doctor.
"Heeeyo!"
Walking down the hall, my mood lifted within three seconds, so I offered a cheerful greeting and opened the door.
I completely ignored the narrowed sidelong glance from my brother, who was facing his computer.

Barging right in, I tried to peek at his computer screen. Ah, he hid it.
"Anyway, Sis, haven't you been acting kinda childish lately?"
"'You think so?' Is it because of stuff like this? Or because my attitude towards things has gotten so careless?"
"Well, I guess you've always been kinda like this at home. Though outside, you act much more proper."
"I'd prefer you say I'm 'wearing a cat.' Especially since Miya's here, too. We're matching buddies."
But it's true, since the number of times I interact with people has dropped so drastically, keeping up appearances *has* started to feel like a hassle. In that sense, other people influence other people. Unconsciously, too.
My brother turned his whole body away from the computer to face me.

"So, you... lecture cancelled today?"
"That's about right."
"Heheheh. So you're just like me."
"Don't lump your two-days-a-week schedule together with my 'every day is spring break.' And what's with the cat? Did you kidnap it from Sora's room?"
"We're dating by mutual consent. She just kinda took a real liking to me, you know?"
"Come to think of it, animals have always liked you, Sis. You smell like fish or something?"
My brother snickered. I was indignant—quite unreasonably—more because he'd used an expression like that for the first time. So, after landing Miya temporarily on the floor, I approached him.
"'Eh? Are you mad? No way, ahhhhh!' Even though I just slipped behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck, my brother screamed like he'd just seen a plastic bag move on its own in the corner, only to find a cockroach inside it moments later. What a noisy guy. 'Wh-what the hell? And, your breath tickles... I mean, stop breathing near me!'"
"What kind of demand is that to make of your own sister? Don't tell me you mistake me for a Hamon user?"
"More like *you're* about to get excommunicated from the family!"
He hit a sore spot, so I hit *his* sore spot right back—with a jab to his side.
"'So, what is this? Some kind of punishment game?' My brother wasn't particularly fazed by the jab, focusing instead on the pressing question of my arms still being wrapped around his neck."
"'You hate fish, right? I figured if I smelled like fish, you'd hate this.'"
My brother, blushing slightly, typed "This one's hopeless" on the nearby keyboard.
"'...Seriously, who hugs someone over that? Is this lady *really* over thirty?'"
"'Why? Can't you tell from the state of my skin?'"
"'Gahhhh, don't rub against me!'"
He shook me off. I rolled backward, stopping just before hitting the chest of drawers. Miya approached my hand, so I held it out and got bitten again. Hahaha, I'm not cheating on you, honestly!
"'Stay away from meeee!'"
He really gets into it, my brother. Though his pose is kinda lame since he's sitting.
He's tall and slim, and though his clothes at home are pretty sloppy and casual, he still successfully inherited Dad's genes and is quite good-looking. Well, he's definitely more popular with girls than I am! (Not that I'm delusional!)
"'Come any closer and... uh... I'll destroy your Super Famicom!'"
"'Hey, that was originally yours, wasn't it? Instead, how about you wrap up that PS3 sitting over there for me?'"
"'Nobody said anything about a present for *you*!'"
He practically shouted in anger. Honestly, my interest was more focused on snapping a picture of my relative bracing himself while displaying some girl in a swimsuit on the monitor behind him.

"'What's this, little brother? Smitten with me?' I teased, taking three steps back."
My brother leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and his chin in his hands. "No," he huffed, exhaling sharply through his nose.
"'It's not like I have *those* kinds of weird feelings. But you *are* pretty, Sis, so... I get embarrassed.'"
"'Oh, right...' I scratched my cheek. Now *I* was the one getting embarrassed."
"'I mean, it's that guy, right?' he said quickly. 'The guy you like, Sis, he's that high school kid, isn't he? That's why you don't get married or anything.' My brother offered me this baffling 'truth'."
"'What?! ...Setting that aside, eh? Who are you talking about?'"
I feigned bewildered surprise. Seriously, who could he possibly mean?
"'You know,' my brother said, gesticulating, 'the guy you brought home a few years ago. Something about a kidnapping...' He trailed off evasively. ...Ah, *that* kid."
"'No, it's not like I particularly want an engagement ring from him... I mean, even if I got one worth three months' salary, it'd probably be made of carbon dioxide or something. Honestly, that kid has zero prospects... Hmm, well, I've known him for ages, and, you know, there was that time he was always tagging along after me... maybe those memories get a bit romanticized? Though we're currently in the middle of our third big fight, give or take.'"
I tried my best to convey my feelings, gesturing vaguely by drawing curves in the air with my hand. "What, you embarrassed?" my brother pressed, as if dismissing my explanation and pushing my feelings aside.
"'I told you, that's not it! Aargh, this is such a pain... I like him *as a person*. Okay, magic words invoked! Topic forcibly terminated!' I briefly considered yanking out my brother's computer plug while I was at it... but that seemed likely to spark a serious sibling argument. So, being utterly devoid of any motivation for labor, I opted to do nothing particularly eventful in my personal life either."
Hmm, speaking of plugs... Couldn't I awaken some kind of ability to recharge my motivation and drive via a charger plugged into an outlet? Teke-te-ten! The Human Charger!
Well, setting aside such delusions.
"'Ugh, I just remembered something annoying.' Putting both hands to my forehead, I pushed my bangs back."
"'Hm? What's wrong?'"
"'I found my game console unplugged this morning, and a whole night's progress went *poof*!'"
Come to think of it, Miya was the culprit cat, wasn't she? Taking advantage of my forgetfulness to act like one of the gang... what nerve! I reached out to give her a playful poke, but she easily dodged it with an unhurried movement and looked thoroughly annoyed.
Hmm, you little time thief. Talk about the audacity of a thief...
Just as I was mentally preparing to serve the cat an arrest warrant for such behavior, my brother, unable to watch any longer, interjected.
"'About the game console... I think Sora-nee did that. I saw her going in and out of your room yesterday.'"
"'You little snitch! You saw her?' 'Yeah.' 'Well, you should thank me for the information.' 'I'm the type who prioritizes results. So, you didn't stop her?' 'Nope.' 'Why not?!' 'Mm-hmm.' 'That makes no sense!'"
Following my emotions, I flopped onto my back on the floor. My eyes met Miya's, sitting beside me. 'This was about your owner, you should have stopped her!'—intending this message, I touched her ear. She flicked it away annoyedly. Seems she was still indignant about almost being falsely accused.

"'I see, I see... so she finds me that detestable, huh...' I guess I could understand why."
If my past self (my 20-year-old self, let's say) saw me sprawled out like this now, I'm sure she'd unleash a relentless storm of insults. Back then, even if I lacked a sense of justice, I at least had diligence.
"'Nah, isn't it just her roundabout way of saying, 'Sis, get your act together more'?'"
"'If only she'd just say it directly... though I do recall being told exactly that just a moment ago. Oooohh, if only yesterday and today could swap places... Isn't it about time I awakened a Stand ability or something?'"
"'...Before that happens, stop talking like that at your age. Are you some dreamy middle schooler?'"
A sigh and a wry smile escaped my brother's decent-looking face simultaneously as his chair rotated back towards me.
"'Well, Sis, just keep incorrigibly leveling up in something other than reality again today.'"
"'Why does everyone say the same thing...'"
"'Because you keep doing the same things, right?' he pointed out, with an air of stating the obvious."
"'...Mmmph.' For *my* brother, he actually makes a pretty sound argument."
"'Personally, I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing, mind you. Listening to you through the wall is annoying, sure, but actually *watching* you is pretty funny. Seeing someone who usually seems so calm and collected complaining about weapon prices or screaming 'Hya-hyaa!' every time you dodge enemy bullets in a shooter... getting all worked up over trivial stuff like that is actually kinda relaxing to watch, you know?'"
My brother watched me with the kind, gentle gaze one might use to watch John (the male dog) grooming himself in the garden. For the record, my brother is twenty. My sister is twenty-one. I turn thirty-two this year.
Confirming our ages somehow irritated me, but since he looked like he was going to keep talking, I decided to let him continue.
"'Your complexion looks better than before, and that grumpy look on your face has mostly softened into something more... vacant? So maybe Mom and Sora-nee are relieved in that sense. Dad was against his kids becoming doctors from the start, so he never said anything either way.'"
My brother analyzed his sister. His analysis was somewhat accurate, enough to make my skin crawl just a little... Miya slipped out the open door, and I desperately wanted to use that as an excuse to escape.
Being naturally bad at, unskilled in, and thoroughly unsuited for serious conversations and long-winded explanations, I tend to turn my back on seriousness. The 'Doctor' Sakashita Koibi—the one who, despite being unsuited for it, would grit her teeth and face things head-on, probing wounds, widening them, struggling—that Koibi went out of business long ago.
"'Turning your own sister into an exhibit... you're quite the villain, aren't you?'"
I tried to lighten the mood with a joking attitude. My brother shrugged but played along.
"'Says the person who used to grab her little brother's legs for a Giant Swing or make him specialize solely in retrieving dropped balls during games of catch, treating him like her personal toy.'"
Such was my brother, who remembered the bitter past clearly, having no need for notes due to his non-forgetful nature.
"'Outrageous! Judging evil is not the role of the justice-less me! But even so, I have a few connections with the police, you know!' Trying to look triumphant, I went to flash my mobile phone, only to remember I wasn't carrying it."
Hmm, where in my room was it functioning as a decoration, I wonder?
It's probably got dust all over it, too (covering the surface).
Sensing my predicament—standing there with a pointlessly proud expression—my brother threw me a lifeline.
"'Ah, Natsuki-san...' he said. 'She hasn't been over lately, has she? Wonder if she's busy.'"
"'What's with the distant look in your eyes? You like Natsuki's type?'"
I frowned slightly. Not because I think he has bad taste or anything, but because I worry he might get scammed. Natsuki is deceptive, both inside and out.
And to think, back in high school, I was lumped together with someone like *that* as the 'Top-Bottom Combo'... I reflected keenly.
"'What's wrong with Natsuki-san? She's kind and incredibly beautiful. Besides, she doesn't really seem that much older.'"
"'Well... she once went to an izakaya with her university friends, and when she said she couldn't drink, people *in her own year* actually suspected she was underage.'"
Since she started dyeing her hair a few years ago, I feel like she looks even younger. Right, from today on, I'll call her Nat-Nuts! ...Is this where I'm supposed to say, 'That's a lie, though'? What *is* this subtly easy-to-use phrase? It feels like it could become addictive.
"'But 'kind,' you say... Well, then you've got no chance.'"
"'What's that supposed to mean?'"
"'Because she has this childish side where she feels the urge to be mean to guys she actually likes.'"
Her face hasn't exactly evolved since her second year of high school, either. Hm, maybe it's devolved? Her skin, her looks... I don't know. Once you pass a certain point, it's hard to judge. A person's mind and body really are separate things.
"'Besides, she already likes someone. Give u~p.'"
Although, if someone like *that* married my brother and became my sister-in-law, it might be interesting in its own way. I could order her around: 'Go buy me some bread!' Or maybe, 'Warm up this ice!' 'Sharpen this pencil with your earhole!' (Getting slightly excited).
"'...Well, yeah, I figured she probably liked *someone*, but it's not like I was actually pursuing her or anything.'"
Heheh. But I could see he was disappointed. Time to twist the knife (just because).
"'By the way, the object of her affection is an eighteen-year-old boy.'"
"'Seriously? Wait, don't tell me... is it the same 'Boy A' you mentioned earlier?'"
"'Yeees.' Probably. 'And strangely enough, the 'Boy A' label fits him perfectly.'"
"'Who *is* this high school kid? Some kind of older woman killer?'"
"'Nah, I don't know about that. Weirdos seem to take a strange liking to him, but he tends to rub normal people the wrong way.' My brother's expression turned bitter—whether from envy or exasperation, I couldn't tell—as suspicions about this mysterious high schooler swirled in his mind."
Come to think of it, way back when, Yamana liked him too, didn't he?
"'Oh, and apparently some foreign-sounding guy named Je... uh, James or something is into him too.'"
"'...Is that something to be happy about?' 'Who knows?'"
But maybe because he hates himself, he values being liked by others and takes pleasure in it.

I'd been talking nonstop since waking up, and my throat was dry.
Stealthily checking that Mom wasn't around, I infiltrated the kitchen. The remnants of my breakfast had been neatly cleared away, and the dishwasher was letting off a little steam. Unlike its purchaser—who gave it as a Mother's Day gift—it's quite the hard worker, never complains, a truly reliable fellow.
The little house-shaped clock in the kitchen announced eleven o'clock. A small figure emerged and struck a tiny bell eleven times. Then a pair of little figures, a man and a woman, spun around before retreating back inside.
Taking a glass from the shelf, I poured some barley tea. 'This color, this aroma... quite something...' As if judging a fine beer, I downed it in one gulp. I rinsed the glass, set it down, and now what?
Go back upstairs and... do what? Standing here lingering, what on earth should I do?
I had too much time. The me for whom twenty-four hours was never enough, the me swamped with university reports—when did she get completely consumed and disappear?
"'.........Bored.' The honest thought slipped out. The tip of my nose felt dry. Wherever I go, I'm free, and I have no particular role to play."
I'm not particularly needed, am I?
Back in middle school—and this is my own assessment, so maybe it's a bit lenient and biased—I was better than most people at pretty much everything. Somehow, every day felt too stable, and I was bored. I had nothing but free time and spent it just lying around. The reason was the complete opposite of now, but my actions weren't all that different.
"'In the end, being unbalanced is just no good.'"
Lean too far one way, and you lose sight of what's normal.
And it stops being everyday life.
I feel like Natsuki and I had a similar conversation once during a general education lecture at university, while tuning out the professor's talk on gender theory. I think the topic was, 'What is Talent?'
Natsuki said that even without talent, people can succeed.
If effort and luck align, she said, it's even possible to achieve greater success than someone who possesses talent.
However, without talent, you inevitably have to push yourself too hard.
And that strain inevitably accumulates, leading to future ruin.
Having talent, she argued, doesn't mean possessing outstanding or superior abilities.
It's the ability to adapt and engage with a certain thing without undue strain. Since humanity's greatest strength is adaptability, talent must surely carry that kind of meaning. That's what Natsuki argued.
And that feels like a way of thinking that applies to 'daily life' itself.
People who can't blend in smoothly with those around them. People who can't talk to others face-to-face.
Up until now, I'd seen countless people who lacked the 'talent for daily life,' and I'd worked hard trying to treat them.
But can I, the person I am now, really say I possess the talent to lead a normal daily life?
...Ah, there I go again. Whenever I think about these things, I always drag the past into it.
And then the taste of self-loathing, swallowed instead of spat out, feels sickening as it goes down.
Maybe I should just cut away the entire past. *Whoosh*—completely restructure my life's path.
Demolish the process entirely and just record the final result.
"'...If only I could do that, how much easier would it be.'"
But I've already lived for over thirty years. More than a third of my life is gone.
Where could I possibly dump such a huge amount of baggage? I'd get sued for illegal dumping, wouldn't I?
Convenient bouts of amnesia only happen to protagonists in stories. And that's not me...

"Daddy! Guess what? I'm gonna be a doctor!"
"...You said no? Ehh, whyyyy? Daddy, you're crushing my dreams!"
"No way, I *am*! Mommy's a doctor, Grandpa's a doctor, Grandma's a doctor, so me too, me too—!"
"I'll study really, really, really hard!"
"Hmm? No, I won't cry."
"I'm going to cure *all* the patients! Then nobody will cry anymore!"
"Huh? Daddy, why do *you* look like you're going to cry?"
"Should I cure you? I don't have a license yet, though!!"

...Ugh.
It's the adult me who feels like crying now, little me.
Are *you* going to cure *me*? Waaaaaaaaaaah—*buhoh*!" I flailed my limbs.
I tried seeing just how long I could sigh, but it went on for so long I started to panic. Lack of oxygen made the corners of my eyes throb.
Maybe next time, *I* should be the one seeking care at a hospital, as a patient.
"'Man, I wanna pilot Zearth...'"
"'Destroy the Earth with my own hands, *then* defeat the enemy...'"
Muttering desires for destruction, I ate a pudding cup I found in the fridge. The sweetness bloomed deep in my sinuses. "Hmm, maybe this was Sora's?" I wondered about its origin as I finished it all. Mmm, caramel.
"'...Yeah, maybe I don't wanna pilot Zearth after all.'"
Simple happiness made me abandon those thoughts.
With the spoon still in my mouth, I slumped forward onto the table.
The empty pudding cup tipped over, leaking a tiny bit of leftover syrup onto the table.
.........I was simple.
I was all straight lines.
I hadn't learned a thing, only gotten older.
That was the me who was here now.
I felt an overwhelming urge to scream. And I somehow realized I didn't even have the right to.
Making a "trrrring, trrrring" sound with my mouth,
"'Oh, hey, Natsuki? It doesn't have to pay well, just give me an easy job.'"

---

**『 Assault ÷ Tactics + Distance = 』**

The sight of a person being shot is rather stimulating.
The sensation of scattering, like something bursting from inside the body, traces itself across the surface of my eyeballs.
To the surrounding screams that seem to chase the splatter of blood, my eardrums seem to ooze a pus-like pleasure mixed with the echoes. The situation writhes down my spine, smearing it with gratification.
Getting excited by the color red, the feeling of a beast letting instinct take over... I can almost understand it.
Hm? Am I a beast? No, no.
At the very least, I believe I'm currently doing something only humans can do.
Being a liar, you could say? Deception, or... no, deceiving one's conscience. That's a lie.
But I wonder how it would be evaluated?
Besides, being able to enjoy an environment where your own kind are being senselessly hurt—that's something uniquely human.
Though getting shot myself is something I'd absolutely rather avoid.