I had a younger sister. Though we weren't as close as these two and only shared half our genes, she loved tangerines. She ate them every day, turning her skin slightly orange. Peeling and removing the white threads from the tangerines was my job. Even though she never thanked me, I now cherish those memories without any resentment. Perhaps there's no reason to hate. It's not that I loved my sister.
Finishing his task, Kouji emerged from the blanket. Anzu, covered up to her neck, only exposed her now clean face. It reminded me of a "teru-teru bozu" (a handmade doll made of white paper or cloth). I asked her opinion.
"Anzu, do you feel a bit better now?"
While she frowned, she gave a small nod. Then she softly said, granting me permission, "Just call me Anzu."
"Anzu... Oh, you mean by name. Is that okay?"
Her eyes seemed to say, "Don't make me repeat myself." "Understood, Anzu-chan."
"Don't add the 'chan'!"
At her words, which were the opposite of Mayu's usual remarks, I shrugged. It seems my favorability rating has risen from minus 2 to zero on both the X and Y axes. The question now is whether there's any room for it to further increase in a positive direction.
"Stay tuned."
"Huh?"
I waved it off, addressing her brother. Speaking of which, I've never heard anyone call Kouji by his brotherly title. Maybe when they're alone, she addresses him differently?
Kouji wrung the dirty water from the towel and started wiping his own body. The way he hastily cleaned himself was a stark contrast to the care he took with Anzu. He finished quickly, even faster than a "bird's dip in the water."
"I feel refreshed," he said, his face breaking into a gentle smile.
"That's good to hear..."
While making casual remarks, I continued observing Kouji's physique. His skin was pale like Anzu's, but there was one notable difference.
There were bruises, possibly from internal bleeding, spotted around areas usually concealed by clothing, like the armpits and inner thighs. The discolorations looked moldy.
"...When your clothes are dry, I'll bring them over."
I grabbed the bucket and stood up to leave. The two tilted their heads in confusion, but I hurriedly left the room. Closing the sliding door behind me, I became aware of my footsteps. In the washroom, I drained the dirty water and washed the towel in cold water. After wringing it out, I muttered to myself.
"What have I gotten myself into?"
I've probably brought home some pretty complicated kids, haven't I, Ma-chan? I'm not one to pry into others' lives, but the accumulation of these small observations might draw me deeper into their story. That's dangerous. Although I consider myself compassionate, I'm also quite confrontational. Both are probably lies.
"The scars on Mayu... I don't think they're hers."
Considering last night's events, it's hard to justify her innocence just because I like her or because I find any other explanation nauseating. Still, the idea that Mayu would lash out in a calculated, violent manner, especially targeting discreet areas, is hard to believe. If it were another woman, say Anzu showing a strong resistance, Mayu might react instantly, perhaps even with a slap.
"...Such a bizarre kidnapping."
The kidnapper herself, Mayu, seems to be solely interested in me now. Why did she kidnap these kids in the first place? That's the question. Hopefully, I'll remember to interview her exclusively when she wakes up. Not that I'm particularly eager to know, but just in case.
I spent a while gazing at the ceiling, listening to the hum of the washing machine. There were no stains resembling faces, just a clean, bland view. But it's conducive for thought.
I envisioned Mayu's sleeping face: expressionless, like a statue.
Then, I pictured her sleeping form: fully surrendered, as if she had stopped breathing.
Three days later, I would witness her breaking that silence with an outburst I hadn't expected. The sound was indescribable. Different from a beast's roar, it was a sharp, piercing scream. It felt so intense that it seemed to warp the room's contours.
"Mayu? Hey, Mayu!"
Leaving the late-night TV infomercial running in the living room, I rushed into the bedroom and turned on the light. I shook Mayu, who was still lying down and screaming, her eyes clouded with turmoil. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts..." Mayu chanted endlessly, with an air of resentment and curse. As I tried to lift her up, she responded by clutching her head, tearing at her scalp.
"Hey, stop it!"
"My head hurts so much!"
She truly seems to be in pain in more ways than one. With bloodshot eyes, she glared into the void and frothed at the mouth. Her slender arm, where bones, muscles, and veins were visible, tried to shake off my grip. She thrashed about wildly, her hair disheveled. Mayu's hand struck my cheek, and she then forcefully scratched me with her nails.
I felt a sharp, burning sensation. The wound seemed to be bleeding more than just a scratch.
"It hurts so much!"
"I get it, I get it! Calm down!"
My words didn't reach her. She only seemed to find my presence irritating. Somewhere deep down, I had accepted that this was the true nature of our relationship. Now, she attempted to harm her eyes. I grabbed her wrists, exerting enough force to almost break them, trying to prevent her from hurting herself further. I thought breaking might be better at this point, but it didn't come to that.
She started whimpering. Though her body remained stiff, it seemed like she was trying to suppress something from within. Groaning, her entire body began to sweat profusely.
"Mayu?"
I unconsciously let go of Mayu's hand. And as if that was the trigger, she vomited on the spot. Convulsing, she threw up her stomach contents onto the bed. The acidic odor permeated the room as her vomit splashed onto my legs and knees. Watching her cry and continue to vomit, I didn't try to comfort her but just observed the situation in shock.
She coughed and gagged repeatedly, pausing briefly before resuming her retching. Tears and vomit flowed from her eyes and nose respectively. Yet, throughout it all, she never stopped leaning forward, trying to empty her stomach completely. She then buried her face into the vomit-soaked sheets. I gently lifted her up, wiped her frail face, and held her close.
"It's going to be okay."
She kept gasping for air against my shoulder, mouthing words that meant nothing.
"Only Ma-chan and I are here. Those who harm Ma-chan won't come. They'll never come. So, it's okay."
She vomited a little again when I rubbed her back, sending shivers down my spine. But it didn't disgust me, and I had no intention of letting go.
This time, Mayu grabbed my wrist. Her untrimmed nails dug into my veins, and I thought they might rupture an artery.
"Stop it."
She spoke to someone, and I had a few suspects in mind.
What Mayu saw.
What Mayu felt.
Surely, I shared those feelings too.
We remained in that state for about an hour. Mayu, trembling, held onto my wrist the entire time. My hand had turned purple, almost black, seemingly on the verge of necrosis.
But if this brought even a bit of calmness to Mayu, nothing else mattered.
"Mi-kun, Mi-kun..."
"It's going to be okay."
I wiped the sweat off her forehead, and the same reassuring words came out again.
"Your cheek... it's injured. It's bleeding. It must hurt."
She pointed out my wound in a halting tone.
"Oh, this? I just scratched it against a tree branch earlier."
"Ah, I see. It looks painful."
She touched the wound with her fingertip. I decided to end that topic and move on to the next. "More importantly, Ma-chan, do you have the medicine you got from the doctor?"
I intentionally spoke in a tone used to coax children. Mayu repeatedly shook her head in small movements.
"Why don't you go to the doctor?"
"Because... because... I hate him. He always lies to me."
So that means, Ma-chan, you hate me too. Well, regardless, I'll just give her the medicine I always keep on hand.