Eventually, we reach a paved road. As we start to see sporadic houses, it feels like we're entering someone else's living area. Misono-san wipes the sweat from her forehead and nape with a handkerchief. The weather is so humid that even in summer clothes, sweat forms. Despite this, she continues without slowing down, leaning forward with a slight hunch. Along the way, an old man walking his dog nods at her, but she, with her limited field of vision, completely ignores him. Out of courtesy, I nod twice in her stead when passing the old man. He tilts his head, trying to understand, looking at his dog.
"But it's surprisingly far..."
It's a distance where one should consider using a bicycle. However, I know Misono-san can't ride one. Her sense of balance is not normal, and she has difficulty gauging distances. So, when she climbs stairs, she needs handrails. In volleyball, she can't even touch the ball. In basketball, she catches passed balls with her face, and her shots don't even hit the backboard, let alone the ring. I should clarify; this is not information from stalking. My current actions might seem like stalking, but they're different.
We enter a residential area. The farmland, which was sold at high prices by rural landowners, now has prominent signs for speculative housing. The signs have been up for several years, but I don't recall any of them being taken down. Clearly, it was a failure. Companies should first consider if they would want to live in such a rural area before beginning construction.
Passing by clusters of unpopular buildings, Misono-san heads towards a supermarket across an intersection. When she crosses the road without waiting for a signal, she nearly trips, catching her left foot with her right. I almost rush out to help her but restrain myself by clenching my fists. Stumbling a bit, Misono-san enters the supermarket. Outside, the flower and vegetable stalls are almost empty due to the time of day. I decide to wait near a vending machine, pretending to be indecisive about what to buy.
The person who went missing was a student from a nearby elementary school. Even now, there are rumors in the town, reminding everyone of an incident from eight years ago. Then, a man in his thirties kidnapped a third-grade boy and girl, holding them captive for almost a year and subjecting them to physical and sexual abuse. The case was resolved with the death of the kidnapper. Given the similarities, everyone assumes it's another kidnapping. But this assumption feels like a prejudice. Why isn't anyone considering the possibility that the kidnapper might be a woman? Even if the motive was ransom or a twisted hobby, there's no reason a woman couldn't be involved. It's quite disrespectful to women. Such female disdain is too much.
While pondering these issues, I push the cold button on the vending machine and drink the lukewarm tea that comes out, waiting for Misono-san to finish shopping. There's a saying that women tend to take a long time shopping, implying men shop more quickly. Such a statement might provoke a contrary opinion, asking if it's not troublesome to imply men don't spend time shopping. However, if you experience a situation that fits the stereotype, it feels somewhat accurate.
"…So long."
I finish my seventh can of tea and toss it into the trash. Gradually, I start feeling sick, like the tightness between my eyebrows when I nearly drowned in a pool. I've been sipping tea by the vending machine for almost forty minutes. At the same time, a delivery truck driver, who came to restock the machine, gave me a suspicious look upon his return. He might've thought I was a kidnapper. I tried to nod politely, hoping to appear harmless. But maybe he thought I was a murderer.
After that heartwarming interaction and another twenty minutes, totaling an hour of tea time, Misono-san finally returned, carrying a bag in her left hand. The time she spent didn't match the number of items she purchased, which only added to the emptiness I felt from the swirling tea in my stomach.
Circling around the vending machine, I tried to avoid Misono-san's line of sight. Apples protrude from her bag, dropping repeatedly due to gravity. As she picks them up and heads back to the intersection, she stumbles across the street, causing car horns to blare. I wondered whether I should rush to help if she got hit or run away like a startled rabbit. I quickly crossed the intersection.
Misono-san turned right at the intersection, heading towards the heart of the new residential area. In that district, filled with apartments and other rental properties, lies her home. She's drawn to a building with light blue walls and, dropping her apples, enters. I confirmed through the glass that she took the elevator, then followed through the automatic front doors.
Just beyond the entrance, past a corridor, is a bright garden with lush green grass. The ground floor has various shops, including a CD store, bookstore, and even a manga cafe. It's a grand and impressive space, not fitting for a student or the town itself. But now is not the time for such considerations. I thanked the architecture for not having a security system at the entrance and dashed up the emergency stairs to the third floor.
Opening the light blue door to the third-floor hallway, I peeked out. Misono-san had already arrived at her residence, room 307, and was struggling with her keys. After several failed attempts and dropping her bag, she finally got the key in. Watching her, I pondered my next move.
Up to this point, Misono-san hadn't made any detours except for the supermarket. It's likely that her home is the main target. While I wanted to visit her home, given that it's an apartment, there's probably a chain on the door. I hadn't prepared for unlocking the chain from the outside, and I hadn't learned lock-picking skills either. Playing thief was out of the question.
If she spotted a visitor, it's unlikely she would undo the chain or invite them in.
...So, there's only one option.
If I can't open it myself, I should get the homeowner to open it.
It seemed she finally unlocked the door, pulling out the key. She wiped her sweat and reached for the doorknob.
Now's the time, I muttered to encourage myself, stepping into a point of no return. I hurriedly approached, acting as if everything was normal, and said,
"Ah, I'll carry the bags for you."
I picked up the plastic bags, pushing Misono-san aside a bit and slipped through the entrance door.
"…What?" Misono-san seemed stunned by my audacity, and I took advantage of that moment to confidently step into the entranceway. I carelessly took off my shoes and made my way to the living room with heavy footsteps.
"Hey! Who are you?"
Ignoring Misono-san's attempt to confront the intruder, I entered the neatly arranged living room. Taking a few steps, I turned and bit into one of the apples I'd picked up.
"It's a spacious and tidy room. But there's dust on top of the TV. Maybe it looks clean because there are fewer items?"
I placed the bags on the table and nonchalantly asked Misono-san. When I looked back, she was standing at a distance, her face expressionless but tense. Her eyes, narrowed, glinted menacingly, and she was holding a vase, possibly as a weapon. It was clear that she wasn't welcoming a classmate's visit.
"Who are you?"
"I may not know why I'm here, but I know who I am. I'm your classmate."
I replied teasingly, rolling the bitten apple on the table and then glanced further into the room. A room in the corner of the western-style apartment, with a closed deep-red sliding door, appeared to be a traditional Japanese room.
"Could you... leave? You're causing trouble."
While she tried to appear calm, her eyes kept darting to the Japanese room every few seconds. Such honesty is commendable.
"If you want me to, I'll leave right away. But don't you want to hear what the other party has to say?"
"...What are you talking about?"
"This."
I turned toward the Japanese room. However, I heard a strong step behind me and instinctively leaped to the side. Jumping over the sofa, I saw Misono-san lunging where I stood moments ago, her hands holding the vase and a pen-shaped taser.