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Right now, it's past eleven-thirty. The Earth hasn't exploded, the moon hasn't fallen, and the rain outside is coming down hard.
Looks like this nap was another lukewarm twenty minutes without any sign of trouble.

"I told you, you're spacing out too much." My classmate (read: Tanaka) grabbed me by the collar. Treating me just like a frozen shrimp before it's fried, guts and all.
"Time to clean up."
Kaneko's carefree tone somehow messed with the fulcrum, effort, and load points of my neck, which was just starting to lift. So sleepy...
Kaneko shrugged, looking down at the unmoving, not-quite-dead shrimp. That gesture suits him better than trying to look imposing. But the good thing about Kaneko is that he doesn't make you want to bully him either. Moderately nondescript.

He always seems unfazed. His club captain got arrested, a female member killed his pet dog, and then she got arrested too. Even so, he keeps his composure on the surface, living normally, constantly.
That spirit must be classified as strong, if not simply dull. Because he's like air, the influence of his surroundings is hard to see.

*Hmm,* I shook my head left and right, looking for something to do. There were no job postings up. Can't be helped, I guess. I yanked out the pale white tube right in front of me, and then my consciousness almost flew away again.

…This is bad. Yesterday too, I kept tossing and turning in bed and couldn't feel any break in consciousness. My sleep schedule is a mess. Later, I'll have to extort Kaneko for his notes from that last class—or rather, confiscate them using my authority as captain. Ahh, my eyes are drooping, my eyelids feel like melting cheese.
Something like drowsiness is slowly starting to take over my head.
And yet, inside my body feels incredibly hot. It’s like back in elementary school, when I was about to go visit the house of a boy I liked. Back then, I worried a blood vessel in my head might burst. Why was I thinking about confessing and getting a headache? The fact that I feel like that now… does that mean, Ebihara Kanae, that you were contemplating confessing to Sensei in your dream? That’s bad, Ebihara Kanae! Your body has grown, which means your blood vessels must have grown too, so this time your head really will end up covered in blood! Or was it already? This is getting confusing, maybe I should ask the anatomical model. Ah, he looks surprisingly cool; nice for summertime.

And just like that, even though I felt restless, a peaceful mood came over me. The progression of my worries stalled slightly. Instead, there was a throbbing pain in the right side of my head.
My boring everyday life transformed into one full of stimulation thanks to this crush. That much is acceptable.
It’s like my electrocardiogram just got more active.
But love isn't something you should do routinely. Somehow, it's starting to feel like a pain.

It's tough when my mind isn't maintaining normalcy; there's no break. If I did kendo like this, one hit to the *men*…
…would probably make me collapse in a sprawl and pass out. If that happened, would Sensei take care of me? Like, even if he was in the middle of teaching class in the gym, would he abandon the other students and come running?

…Ugh, so it always comes back to that, huh? That's the part that's such a pain.
Like, "When this class is over, I'll confess on the gym stage"… No, that's bad. That's raising a different kind of flag.
Guess being a shrimp (Ebi) means land-based life just doesn't suit me, huh?

So, should I just toss my feelings for Sensei in the sink strainer and focus solely on studying for exams?
………No, I don't want that. That would be abandoning the fight before losing. It's worse than defeat.
My everyday is someone else's extraordinary.
Ebihara Kanae's everyday life isn't something I'll let anyone else walk.
Having someone else pick up the feelings I threw away and get together with Sensei? No thanks.
Ah, that's right. Ebihara Kanae lived every day more determined not to lose than anyone.
With Biwashima Yagoto's seal of approval… I think that was it.
When you hate losing that much, you deliberately dilute your interest in other things. Interest breeds rivalry and opposition, trying to establish the form of a contest. The truly competitive fear contests.
That's why I thought I'd at least properly chosen my way of life, though.

…Ah, say, isn't there an earthquake or something? I felt the urge to look around. It wasn't so much a pounding headache, but a shaking sensation coming from deep inside my ears upwards. This is a first.
Seriously, why is there such a racket? Seems like I'm already half asleep.

Well, guess I'll just faceplant again.
Should be able to sleep nicely.
Zzz… Ra? Raa? *Slither* My body slid off the desk.
My vision tilted from vertical to horizontal.
*Thump.* A dumb sound, and another slightly heavier one.
Oh? Looks like I fell. Maybe too little sleep?
Felt like all my puppet strings snapped, and I could almost see the puppeteer on the ceiling I was looking up at.
Hm? Kaneko… Ebihara…

***

° 。 ° 。 。 。 。 °
“Rifle + (Mayu - Nagase - Fushimi - Others) = ”
° 。 ° 。 。 。 。 °

***

Intruders always show up late.
It’s always been like that in my life.
So many people with cool expressions, without any consideration like paying attention to those who came before.
And the intoxication when someone like that takes the leading role on stage.
The energy to insert myself, and the murderous intent I swallow down.
Thicker and gloopier than gastric juices or blood, it passes through the esophagus, scattering nausea.
Well, here comes someone who reminds me of all that. The reality of my position, which I’d kept my eyes averted from, peels away its skin. Requesting elimination.

“You never know with lottery tickets unless you buy one. You never know with difficult dreams unless you challenge them. You never know even with recklessness unless you try to make an effort. If you don’t realize that the phrase ‘you never know’ is merely an escape, then these words are not forward-looking at all; they degenerate into excuses. Even if there’s a chance of winning if you buy a lottery ticket, if the probability of losing is over 99.9999999999 percent, can’t we assert with certainty that you simply won’t win? At least, I can bet on that side. However, I am also aware that this can never be wise. I am always searching for the coexistence of dualism and a way to live life in a truly positive manner.”
Maru. Except the closing is, *but that's a lie.*

I offered up that incoherent little speech as a sort of self-introduction.
How did the faces of my classmates—whose names I rarely match to their faces—twist? Grimacing at the madness, crying from the pain, along with their adolescent acne?
What did Nagase, Inazawa, and Fushimi make of that familiar voice?
Probably "Ugh..." No way would it be "It's our saviorrrr!"

I wanted to check their reactions, but Maa-chan would get jealous if I paid too much attention to my surroundings, so I gave up. Besides, I feared I might "get another nostril opened up with a bullet," so I didn't show my face.
Just my mouth and tongue are usually enough to butt in and get on people's nerves. Hope that's a lie.

“Next up, a congratulatory address from our guest representative. Go ahead~”
I nominated him, seeking to develop this monologue into a conversation. Humans need to talk things out.
Even if the other party is a man holding a rifle, not hunting bears or wild boars or even cats, but plunging high school students in the city into the depths of terror. Right?
You can't deceive someone without interacting. Con artists are always lonely.

“Ah, so you're the one! The guy! You better come down here right now!”
His irritation paradoxically gave the impression of glee—a shout overflowing with dynamism. But who knew his voice could leap even higher up the scale? Enough to put a shriek to shame.

`A guy, well, yes. I wonder what my female version is doing under this rainy sky?`
Where might she be parasitic—I mean, lodging next? Surely she hasn't gone back home.
……… Just this sentence makes Ooe Yuna sound like my wife. I'd rather die, though.

“Don't play dumb, you damn hero. You're rattling on like things are booming, but are you trying to save the day here? Even so, I want to ask, what the hell are you doing? It's so incomprehensible. Don't expect any tolerance from me recognizing that insolence and damn nerve as youthful spirit.”

`I have no intention of saving anyone. Though I do hope to leave the gym and return to the classroom.`
"Nee~" I moved the mic away from my mouth to appease Mayu, whose cheeks were starting to puff out. "Nennee~" Mayu replied instantly. If I don't pay attention to her for more than twenty seconds, Maa-chan gets sulky.
She’s a strange creature who’ll bite my right side. Back in elementary school, it was a peaceful jealousy where she’d just stare up intently at Mii-kun with teary eyes. Well, that's from an era that has nothing to do with me.
Whether I can even indulge in nostalgia like, 'Ah, those were the days,' is uncertain.

"It's so we can eat our bento, right~" Mayu cheered, so after confirming, I gently covered her mouth.

Giving a look to the struggling Mayu, I gripped the mic again and brought my mouth close.
“Haaah, is that so, is that so, iiiis thaaat soooo. So, is the other woman with you?”
Before I could utter words devoid of normalcy, a question and more came flying from him.
Mixed into the hidden flavor of his voice was violence. The stomach-twisting sound of a bullet taking flight shot past my ear and raced far into the distance. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. Honestly, it's stiflingly hot.
He seemed to have aimed slightly below the broken glass, firing a direct hit at the broadcast room. Apparently, he managed to get our location out of a student. Who's the one who reported it honestly? I pretended to be indignant.

It seemed impossible to completely penetrate the wall and equipment; only the impact, dulled as if passing through the flesh of two or three people in between, reached my back. And a paper-thin layer away from that impact was Mayu in front of me.
Mayu, her mouth covered, seemed to interpret it as me playing a crudely distorted prank born of *love*, flailing her arms and legs cheerfully. Like she was swimming in space, not just unable to read the mood but pretending the world didn't exist as she paddled through it—I was quite impressed. As expected, that was a lie.

Being in a situation where I have to confront a deadly weapon while soothing a child of the same age really makes me want to lament that I must be under some kind of curse.
But if Mayu's lovely voice were revealed over the mic, we'd be checkmated. We wouldn't even be allowed to resign. That's why it's crucial her presence remains unknown.
If I'm alone, the direction of attack is limited. If there are two, he'd have to be wary of attacks from front/back or left/right.
For Mayu and me, if either of us were killed, it would be synonymous with the end of the world at a class reunion. But from the attacker's perspective, the main goal is to eliminate obstacles and ensure his own safety.
Therefore, grasping the number of people is important and can serve as a deterrent, preventing a reckless attack.

“Is there any need to answer?”
After a pause, I lightly brushed him off. The attacker's next line flew back without a moment's delay.
“That's what people say when there's something they don't want to answer. Meaning, she *is* there—”
*(Exactly. But it's crucial whether he can maintain that conviction to the end after jumping to the right conclusion too quickly.)*
`Oh my... It seems you're misunderstanding. I'm asking if there's any point in *me* answering? Would you trust me? If so, take my advice: just prostrate yourself right there and stay still. Then everyone will surely trample you. Being a foundation for your subordinates is part of the job for those who stand above.`
With an air of knowing it all, I continued talking, ignoring his nerves, relentlessly. From the perspective of my priorities, I looked down on him as less relevant to my existence than an old man currently strolling down the street under an umbrella.
*(But I wonder if the intent behind such subjective abuse can even get through. Impossible, though.)*

“Ah-ha, ah-ha! Man, you're pissing me off! Man, you're pissing me off! What's with that infuriating way of talking! So this is how the teachers felt when I was a student! Man, I'm so sorryyyy!”
As he shouted, a booming sound surpassing it—a gunshot—split my eardrums.
Judging by the flow of conversation, was that an extra bullet relocating to the teacher as collateral damage?
My disposition isn't so rotten that I can convince myself it's better to pass away than suffer a half-assed injury, since it reduces the number of grudges. That sort of thing was already digested back in my childhood.

The attacker, who went out of his way to broadcast his laughter and angry state over the loudspeaker, let out a bizarre screech `"&^((~=)-~) ! -~~=)&% !"` , forcing a metallic shriek from his own throat. Was this meant as an example for those about to be shot?
Or was it also serving as a roundabout self-introduction, like, 'My surname is Gouda'?

“Underestimating adults, huh? That's what makes you a little shit. It's better for the world if you don't grow up any further. Disposal. No, punishment. I'll administer something less than education. So, what are you aiming for? Buying time until the police arrive? Trying to protect your little friends?”
“I have no such plan.” *(Tossed that out ages ago.)*
*(Well, perhaps it's worked out okay in the sense of making him suspicious about why I didn't just stay quiet.)*
*(How to nullify the opponent's advantage. That's what this conversation is about.)*
*(He'll probably start using his excessive resource—the hostages—soon.)*

“Let me tell you, I don't like questions. I'm demanding a report. Got it? Right now, I've got my gun pointed at the nearest little shit. Aimed at the head, a fatal spot. If you give me another irrelevant answer, they'll become the first casualty. The framework of society's collective responsibility blossoms right there, eh? Is it okay? Is it okay to shoot—?”
*(Hmm, the fact he wants a report likely reveals he can't visually confirm things from here. Despite his verbosity, his eyes are probably overworked on alert duty.)*
`Yes, shall we perhaps point a mic at the person you have the gun aimed at now? It might be effective if he's someone far removed from the pangs of conscience. So, how about it? Your current state of m—` “H-Hey, stop it! And stop screwing around at a time like this, Edase! You come out here! *You* get shot! Stop messing with us, you criminal!”

Sugita-kun barks. A resentful tune lacking in vocabulary, forty points.
The only thing commendable is that he didn't announce my first name loud and clear.
If things went wrong, it could affect my semicircular canals and spread the sound of vomiting throughout the gym.

And I also have to be thankful for the opponent's selection.
If it had been Nagase, or Fushimi.
How should I have responded?
Just thinking about it makes me feel relieved it didn't actually happen...? Relieved? Am I relieved?
*`No way...`* a phantom voice denies by my ear. Yeah, that's right.

“Hey, uh, you're Se-kun? Or rather, are you perchance a criminal? Like a habitual shoplifter or something?”
“Yes, I have a reputation for constantly shoplifting hearts.” *(Not entirely a false declaration, is it?)*
“Heeeh, I see. Well then, how about you admit your crime, turn yourself in quietly, and face execution by firing squad?”
An amateur trying to bait my conscience using the live voices of the audience as lure. Shut up.
The real thrill of bargaining lies in overturning situations like this. This is the crucial moment.

Pretending to raise my morale with a counterfeit version of inspiration. And as I licked my lips, Mayu's fingertips jammed between my fingers. Her fingernails dug into the fingers of my right hand that had been stuck to her mouth, silencing her speech. I even received a glare sharp enough to produce a sound effect, so when I peeled back my index and middle fingers, Mayu thrust out a duck face *nyu* from the gap in my hand, projecting her question at me.
“Who's Ese?” My second surname. Meaning, me. But not Mii-kun.
Mii-kun only exists in my absence. Amazing you can stand on two legs, Mii-kun.
“They're bad with kanji, so they're misreading my last name, see~”
“Ohh, they are little idiots indeed,” Mayu agreed happily. As expected of a misanthrope.

“Indeed they are. How troublesome~” “Nenene~”
The 'ne's increased again. Hmm... “...Nenenene~” “Nenenenene~”
A strong-willed remark came back. It's hard to tell if she's protesting "Don't steal my line" or competing.
I was driven by the desire to figure out the mechanism, but playing with Mayu is limited to one hour a day.
That's a lie, though. The national supply of Mii-kuns wouldn't abide by such good manners… No one's abiding by it…… Hmm, that part's complicated. The Mii-kun mass production system is completely messed up. The fact that it's possible, you know.
But while you can make tons of Mii-kuns, Maa-chan is custom-made. The competition ratio is high.

End of digression. Let's step away from the main topic and resolve this trivial matter.
My response here, and the exchange that follows, are crucial.
The perfect opportunity to leverage the information I've obtained.
I took a slightly deeper breath than necessary, luxuriously holding it in.

`I understand what you're saying. Go ahead and pull the trigger.` *(He probably won't shoot anyway.)*
“Thanks.”
Before the opponent could inhale and pull the trigger finger, I cut him off. `If you're willing to shatter your objective and confidence over the likes of me, then please, try and kill me.`
Speaking quickly, I dammed up the bullet's trajectory. In my mind, I treated it as past tense, but did it really have that much deterrent power? I monitored the situation by listening, wondering if I'd produced a natural, unintended lie. Watching over things was difficult because I was busy with Mayu's movements; I couldn't be bothered dealing with the attacker.

“Hey, you damn know-it-all!”
“What is it?” *(Just as I planned, he moved his mouth instead of his hand, which was appreciated.)*
“Setting aside the 'hows' and 'whys,' you must have had a reason for saying that just now, right?”
All that came from the attacker was a question hiding intensity within; both warm encouragement and cold, heat-bearing bullets were temporarily suspended. It seems the effect itself was successful.
*(Although, whether he actually intended to shoot is debatable.)*
`Only those who are disqualified as humans, or living beings who have graduated from humanity and discarded their hearts, can make meaningless statements. Not needing subjectivity to accompany actions... In a way, I respect that.`
But I realized I can no longer admire that.
Since that day. Which day?
From when I started living with Mayu?
From when Nagase appeared before me again?
From the day my sister started calling me Ani-chan?
From when Yamana-san committed suicide?
From when I saw Ooe Yuna desperately trying to laugh, saw that way of life?
…Ah, no, that's not it. Closer. Very recent.
Is it because I harbor something resembling trivial indignation towards this culprit?
Because I feel like I could end up becoming friends with people like this, it's best to just stay vaguely angry.

`Didn't you say it yourself? That you wanted to be in a position to order people around. If that's your motive, you shouldn't be killing people so easily. The secret to effective use of human resources is 'neither letting live nor killing.'`
This was probably the first time I exposed that single teaching from my parents not just in my heart, but outward.
Though I felt like it was something I usually practiced firsthand anyway.
`Besides, I'm a criminal, you see. Even if a classmate gets killed, it's doubtful even a single hair on my head would fall out. Me doing this now is just me reluctantly trying hard for the sake of some fun I have planned later—I'm just that self-centered. If that's the case, then doing that is truly an act less than a waste of life. You can't even call it 'spending' life. You would simply degenerate into a murderer who just killed people. Am I wrong?`
Raising the end of my sentence, increasing the number of puppet strings I let down. Since I'm not particularly skilled at manipulating hearts, my only option is to ensnare him with a scattershot, quantitative strategy of 'fire enough shots and one will hit.'

After a moment, he blew a huge sigh into the loudspeaker, playing a discordant note, before the man doubling as hound and hunter barked back.
“I see, so that's why I should respect human life? Deep considerations, much appreciated, you little shit! Man, I'd love to help you out by thoroughly stirring up that roundabout mouth and brain of yours.”
Apparently enraged at having his pride used to talk him around, he declared his murderous intent with a rough tone. Seems I was judged unfit for employment at the interview stage. How rude.
Well, I probably wasn't liked from the moment I inappropriately blasted the school anthem anyway. For humans, the meaning of an encounter changes drastically based on the first impression.

“Instead of 'If I could,' why not just try doing it?”
“Yeah, I'd love to!” As soon as he finished shouting, a gunshot.
“My desire to make an overconfident little shit drop out of life is boiling over.”
`My, my. However, I cannot head over there myself. I am, as you say, the chief coward, you see; rushing towards a gun is quite impossible for me. Human wave tactics are also out of the question, I'm afraid.`
I tried acting out an overconfident way of speaking. Complete with the kind of forced familiarity designed to annoy, my voice, worthy of recommendation to the drama club, further dampened the rainy season air.

Since this deception was "making" the opponent sink into deep thought, I let my chatter run on further.
“Capturing me, educating me, murdering me. To do any of these, you have to close the distance. ...Rephrasing that difference in position: I am above, and you are below.”
Not that I'd reject him by saying 'Don't come.' I could even provoke him fighting-manga style, like 'Come on up... to these heights!' but I refrained, fearing I might die of embarrassment later if Fushimi or someone imitated me.
'Live in the now' is a veryありがたい sentiment, but I want to at least show enough consideration not to create stains from the outset. Precisely because I can't see ahead, I must at least pay attention to the present.

`In other words,` “Shut up, punk! You're talking way too one-sidedly, you damn bug! Using the same dialect yet acting like you're from a different culture, are ya?!”
As if boasting victory for some reason, the attacker, running solely on momentum, overwrote my words and counterattacked. The content didn't matter, but seeing him start talking, I gave instructions to the idle Mayu.
“Maa-chan, hide behind the curtain or something while you can.”
“Mgu...” Mayu, who had been dozing while clinging to me, rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
“In a little while, someone with a gun will come this way. It's dangerous, so stay perfectly still.”
“Muu......... Chuu?”
*\*Kyaaaaah, she doesn't listen to a word people say, so she just interprets things conveniently—Maa-chan hasn't grown at all, kyaaa-iih.* ...Hmm. For a second, my own character made me feel nauseous.
To build a wholesome tomorrow, I tried digging in Mayu's ear canal with my finger. Pinning down the squirming Mayu who yelped `Nowaa!`, I relayed the same line once more.
This time it seemed to get through; her expression soured. “Uuh, but, umm...” Whatever the reason, Mayu hesitated to leave my side.
Her upper and lower lips wriggled left and right without meeting. Grabbing my sleeve and flesh, wrapping them in her palm, she violently implied her devoted sentiment: `I won't leave!`
For Maa-chan, being with Mii-kun is both group activity and solo activity, after all.
“Come on, please? Do it quickly.”
Even though defeating the culprit alone is, frankly, nigh impossible for me, I somehow want to avoid intentionally using Mayu.