3
Ogami's middle school held their culture festivals in the summer rather than the fall. It made for a hectic schedule: doing rehearsals for the culture festival alongside preparing for finals, going straight into the festival after finals without a break, and then having the summer festival soon after that. He didn't know what possessed them to adopt such a messy schedule. Maybe it was out of consideration for third-years preparing for entrance exams.
The classes were changed up when they became second-years. There was a possibility that he'd be separated from Sumika, but he felt he was prepared for that eventuality. On their last day communing to school in March, she told him "Even if we end up in different classes, let's still walk to school together like this."
And yet on the first day of the new term, looking at the class roster posted at the entrance, he sighed with relief seeing both their names in the same box.
The one thing he didn't like about his new class was Kujirai being there. The man who had driven Ogami into isolation. While you could also say he created the impetus for him becoming close with Sumika, it could only been viewed that way in hindsight. Rather than being fearful of what he might actually do, Ogami was more annoyed about having a symbol of that painful month always in sight.
April passed in the blink of an eye, and after the Golden Week break, preparations for the culture festival began. Ogami's class decided to put on a play. It was mostly just decided arbitrarily by their homeroom teacher, but no one showed any opposition. It really doesn't make much difference what you do at a middle school culture festival.
To put on a play, you need lead parts, supporting parts, bit parts, and stagehands. Ogami figured he would naturally be a stagehand. His other classmates seemed to think the same. With no one in their class who desired to stand out and take center stage, nor any responsible honor students, duties were decided starting from the backstage roles. By the time Ogami understood that this meant they were scrambling for the uninteresting roles, the only option that remained was to play a leading role.
Sumika had followed a similar path. Apparently she'd seen Ogami absentmindedly watching and not participating as they fought over backstage tasks and thought "well then, I'll do that too."
"I was sure you were just standing ready to jump on one of the lead roles," Sumika said with a laugh.
Even just the thought of standing in front of others and acting annoyed Ogami, but thinking how Sumika would share that suffering with him lightened his spirits some.
Though he had been made to take part in plays before in kindergarten and elementary school, they were always bit parts where he just had to say one or two meaningless lines and leave the stage. He couldn't imagine he could do any proper acting, but surely nobody was expecting much from a middle school play. As long as he didn't forget his lines and just stand there, he'd manage in the end, he thought.
And yet, there was someone expecting superb performances from a middle school play, surprisingly close at hand.
Kujirai was irritated from as early as script rehearsals. He glared at his classmates as they read their lines, and let out an obvious sigh every time there was a break. Every time a teacher gave an instruction, he looked at them with a frown. He had a temper that was unimaginable compared to the usual good-mannered Kujirai. And it was clear to everyone that it wasn't the play itself, but the quality of the performances that he was irritated by.
As far as Kujirai's own acting, much as it pained them, you couldn't so much as form a complaint. He spoke with a clear voice suited for performing, and was able to express what needed expressing without over-exaggerated intonation or gesturing. At the same time, he didn't seem to be standing above the other hammy performers either, naturally blending in with the scene. It was a bit magical. Ogami'd always thought he was a man who could do anything well, but when it came to theater, he was clearly on another level.
His irritation was also effectively expressed through that acting skill, further intimidating the amateur actors with each passing day. Among them, Ogami alone doggedly hung on out of antagonism for Kujirai. He couldn't stand the idea of giving Kujirai a justifiable reason to look down on him. By imagining how Kujirai would play his role, and comparing Kujirai's unimaginable talent with his own, Ogami was able to refine his acting. The actual fastest way to improvement would have probably been to ask Kujirai to show him how it's done, but his pride wouldn't allow for that.
The other exception was Sumika. Though not on Kujirai's level, in no time at all after beginning rehearsals, she was demonstrating stand-out acting ability. Even if comparing her to Kujirai was unfavorable, thanks to her personality matching the role, she was able to master her part perhaps even quicker than Kujirai.
After school following their fourth rehearsal, due to class duties or something along those lines, Ogami and Kujirai had an opportunity to be alone with each other. Then, for the first time since the Kozaki incident, Kujirai spoke to Ogami.
"Y'know, it seems like the only ones with functioning brains in this class are me, you, and Sumika," Kujirai remarked in a tired voice. "The rest of them don't know a single thing about acting."
"No point in getting mad at amateur actors, is there?", Ogami replied - feeling a quiet relief that he wasn't included in "the rest of them."
"No such thing as an amateur actor," Kujirai declared decisively. "And yet as soon as they get up on stage, they suddenly forget everything they know."
You know, he's got something of a point there, Ogami thought. No one's "new" to acting. To some extent, people are always having to perform around others. And yet if you're outright told to "perform," you suddenly aren't able to. Like how if you turn your attention to your breathing, which you're always doing without a thought, you suddenly can't remember how to breathe naturally.
"By the way," Kujirai added, "you're just a little better than the others, not actually good."
"Well, thanks."
"Sumika is good."
"I can tell that."
"Which makes you the only one with room for growth."
It was hard for him to tell if he was being complimented or insulted, but he figured it was probably a compliment. For how irritated Kujirai was, he could honestly accept that remark as complimentary.
Kujirai asked if he had time later, and after being told Ogami had no particular plans, suggested he "come over to my house for a bit." Ogami said he wouldn't mind. It wasn't like he had forgotten his grudge from just earlier that year, but his curiosity won out. It seemed this man had a hidden side he didn't show in the classroom. Maybe he'd get to catch a glimpse of it.
Kujirai's house was on the edge of a residential district close to the school. The house looked like a boring and bland gray box, with a garage sticking out as if it were a little box put next to a big one. Kujirai took Ogami over to the garage. Raising the heavy shutter up to around his waist, he then bent down and ducked under. After confirming that Ogami was inside, he roughly pushed the shutter down with his foot.
It was pitch black inside the garage, which may have been why it felt much larger than it seemed from outside. Though there was a faint smell of concrete in the air, the place didn't feel unclean. Kujirai took familiar steps through the darkness. Eventually he flicked on the light, and Ogami's eyes narrowed at the sudden brightness.
It was a nice and tidy space. The first thing Ogami noticed was a black leather sofa in the center. On the right wall was a steel rack being used as a bookshelf, and on the left wall hung a large screen, with a projector hanging from the ceiling pointed at it.
Kujirai pointed at the sofa and said "sit there and wait," then opened the door in the back to go to the main part of the house. Ogami said in the sofa as told, staring at the blank projection screen for a few seconds. Then he stood up, went behind the sofa, and stood in front of the steel rack. Books made up at most one third of the contents, while the rest seemed to be video discs.
Ogami's eyes stopped on the label of a CD case on the bottom shelf. It was a movie that Ogami himself also owned. An old one. It was being sold for next to nothing at a thrift store after being given discount after discount. He was fond of the title: a boring, commonplace title that wouldn't make movie-lovers or movie-haters alike feel like reaching for it.
Ogami used that CD case of his as a secret hiding spot. It was thin, so he couldn't fit anything much in there, and indeed, nothing much was in there. A letter from a girl he used to be friends with, a New Year's card; stuff like that was the most it could hold.
Ogami reached for the case, having an amusing idea. Perhaps Kujirai - although it may have belonged to Kujirai's father - was using the same CD case as some kind of hiding spot. If he was lucky, maybe he'd even get some insight into Kujirai's weaknesses.
Not actually expecting much, he opened the case.
There were photos inside.
Maybe I could actually get on with this guy pretty well, Ogami thought with wonder.
The photos were all taken when Kujirai was young, suggesting that his parents hadn't hidden them. A parent would have no reason to hide photos of their son in a place no one would look. They should have shown them proudly.
Naturally, the photos didn't seem to carry any kind of secret that would capture Ogami's interest. Most likely Kujirai just felt kind of embarrassed about having old photos of himself.
After looking through all the photos, Ogami went to put the case back where it was. But something was tugging on his mind. He couldn't help but feel like he'd witnessed something with a deep relation to himself. He opened the case again and, careful not to leave fingerprints, inspected the photos again.
At the third photo, his hands froze.
It was Kujirai at around 10 years old. No, maybe a little before that. Judging from the clothes and the general atmosphere, it might have been taken at something like a piano recital or concert. To his left, a woman who seemed like his teacher gave a soft smile, and to his right stood a smiling girl around the same age as Kujirai.
A girl who looked a lot like Sumika Takasago.
No, never mind "looked like" - wasn't this Sumika Takasago herself?
Hearing a creaky floor beyond the door, Ogami quickly put back the photos and stuck the case back in its spot. Then he jammed his hands in his pockets and pretended to be looking at the top shelf of the rack. But there was no need for his haste. Kujirai kicked the door, telling Ogami from the other side "open it for me."
Upon opening the door, he saw Kujirai holding a cola bottle in one hand and a frying pan filled with popcorn in the other. The popcorn was still radiating heat, and smelled of cooked butter. Kujirai set it down on the sofa table, then went to grab a disc and put it in the projector. After dimming the lights with a remote, he sat down at one end of the sofa. Ogami sat himself at the opposite end.
Projected on the screen was, of course, a movie, an old film whose title Ogami was just barely able to remember. The quality was pretty rough, but it wasn't black and white. It started with a scene of two men dressed in thick clothes talking under a bridge.
There was initially enough space between Ogami and Kujirai for a cat to curl up in, but as the movie progressed, it gradually shrank. A consequence of the popcorn being put at the center of the table. Ogami felt it was a little lacking in salt, but even so, it was the best popcorn he'd ever eaten. He also appreciated how unlike a movie theater, you didn't have to worry about the crunching sounds you made as you ate.
By the time the movie, less than two hours in length, ended, the pile of popcorn had disappeared.
During the end credits, Kujirai aired a question. "What'd you think?"
"Some more salt would..."
"I mean the movie. The actors' performance."
He had no particular impressions worth calling impressions. He didn't know very much about films, and was too focused on the plot to pay any attention to the acting.
"There was nothing really egregious," Ogami answered. He intended it as a roundabout way of saying "I didn't feel anything," but Kujirai was pleased with that answer, nodding in admiration.
"That's the fundamental thing," Kujirai agreed. "You can't even let them think "they're good at this.""
If you're making the audience think "they're good," your acting is already being perceived as acting. That must have been what Kujirai was trying to say.
It was a notion consistent with his own acting.
"The popcorn was tasty," Ogami remarked as he gazed at the now black screen.
"I know," Kujirai said with disinterest.
Every day from then until the day of the culture festival, Ogami watched movies with Kujirai in the garage. They were diverse in genre, some old and some recent, some short and some long. Some were terrifyingly simple stories, while others were packed with enough details to make your head hurt, and some you couldn't make sense of at all.
He didn't imagine watching them would improve his own acting, nor did he think it was necessary to get serious about a culture festival play in the first place. Yet drawn by the unusual sensation of watching movies in a dark garage as well as the taste of the popcorn, Ogami went as far as to neglect finals to continue paying visits to the garage.
He hadn't forgotten his resentment of Kujirai. But Kujirai's invitation could be taken as an offering to reconcile, and he felt it was no use holding a grudge over things that were in the past.
Some conversation or another led Kujirai to abruptly divulge that his father had passed away. "He died all of a sudden while relaxing on a day off. Right on this sofa we're sitting on."
Ogami frowned, and Kujirai laughed that it was a joke. But following that conversation, the darkness of the garage started to feel like it had the same kind of stillness as a graveyard.
Although it wasn't such a bad sensation.
A week after Ogami started going to Kujirai's garage, Sumika suddenly spoke up while they were walking to school.
"Ogami, you seem friendly with Kujirai lately."
"Really?" Ogami played dumb.
"Really. You're always going home together."
Now that she mentioned it, ever since they started preparing for the culture festival, he hadn't once accompanied Sumika on the way home from school. Part of it was that he was being assigned other small tasks on top of the play rehearsals, so the times they were going home didn't line up. But sure enough, the primary reason was Kujirai.
He had yet to tell Sumika about his visits to the garage. Even he was still trying to determine how to associate with Kujirai, so he wasn't sure how to go about explaining it.
"I guess it's more fun for boys to hang out together, huh?", Sumika said in a sulking tone.
It seemed she didn't find the situation very agreeable. Was it bad that he was being friendly with Kujirai, or was it bad to be getting close to someone without Sumika's knowledge? In any event, it was the first time she'd openly stated some dissatisfaction to him.
To defend himself, Ogami openly explained the situation. At first, Sumika listened to his story with suspicion, but gradually began to show an interest in what they were doing in Kujirai's garage.
"I wonder if you'd let me join in, too?"
Of course, there was no way he could decline.
After school that day, Ogami brought Sumika along to the garage. Kujirai was unfazed when he saw Sumika, simply saying "Huh, you came too, Sumika?", then squeezing himself against the edge of the sofa to make room for a third person.
From then on, the films became something for the three of them to watch together.
What did this situation mean?
That question was adjacent to the question of what Kujirai's photos meant. Supposing the girl in the photo was Sumika, and there was a significance to Kujirai keeping it in a hidden spot, this situation could be extremely dangerous for Ogami. On the other hand, Kujirai couldn't ask for anything better.
At first, Ogami watched Kujirai's every action to determine whether he might become a rival for Sumika's affection. Needless to say, by this point Ogami had long since fallen for her, and was plenty aware of those feelings of his. Part of it was that she was kind to him when he was suffering, yes. But when Ogami truly fell in love came after moving up a grade, when the two being together became natural.
There came a moment when Ogami had a revelation, as if sent from the heavens. Me meeting this girl is a once in a lifetime event. There probably won't be anything else in my life to come that can make me as happy as this. Decades later, I'll look back and think "I never was able to get anything better than that" - that's the kind of encounter this is.
And Kujirai was a superhuman the likes of which he had never seen before. Until seeing him, he thought all people had their advantages and shortcomings, that no one was generally blessed with everything. But since befriending Kujirai, he had to re-evaluate that idea. This man has nearly everything. Compared to Kujirai, do I have even a single thing that's more charming than him?
At a glance, Kujirai didn't appear to be treating Sumika any differently for being a girl. But figuring it would be a piece of cake for a skilled actor such as him to conceal his affections, Ogami couldn't let his guard down.
Even putting the photo aside, there was no mistaking that the two had an old acquaintance. It wasn't necessarily intimate, but he felt a particular familiarity around the edges of their words. Like siblings who didn't get along particularly well nor poorly, or else a couple who had broken up amicably.
He also considered just coming out and asking about the photo. He'd just have to ask directly: "why are you hiding a photo of Sumika?" Knowing Kujirai, he'd probably answer honestly. That would make his feelings clear, thought Ogami.
But if he honestly admitted having feelings for Sumika, what would I do then? Would erasing my immediate doubts end up shortening the lifespan of my happiness?
But by the time the culture festival was near at hand and the play was almost fully prepared, such worries had vanished from Ogami's mind. Kujirai didn't seem to be an enemy. In fact, seeming to infer the complicated relationship between Ogami and Sumika, he showed restraint, even going so far as to keep some distance from her. Kujirai was probably consistently doing that from the start, but his consideration had been so casual that Ogami didn't notice.
So there was surely no deep meaning to that photo after all. Maybe the girl in the photo was Sumika, but her being in it didn't hold any great meaning, it's just that she happened to be there. Or perhaps Kujirai had special feelings for her at the time, but it held no meaning to Kujirai now; maybe he just couldn't let go of a photo that was once a treasure of his.
Ogami was relieved on two fronts. One, that he wouldn't have to recklessly challenge an opponent he knew he could never contend with. And two, that it wouldn't throw a wrench into the budding friendship between the two of them. Ogami had come to feel a natural fondness for this Kujirai. The time he spent with him was becoming his second-favorite in the world. It was an entirely different kind of "special" from the kind Sumika provided.
As he spoke more with Kujirai, Ogami's words became more fragmentary. If I use the minimum amount of words, this guy should understand what I'm trying to say without misunderstandings, he thought, and in practice, he did indeed convey himself without misunderstandings. Then Kujirai's words became fragmentary to go along with it, to the point that there were occasions in which Sumika was unable to keep up with the speed of their conversations.
This guy's equipped with the same circuits as me, Ogami thought. He might have much higher specs, yet we're built from the same base. So if you put in the same input, you get the same output. So maybe even the fact we used a CD case for the same movie as a hiding spot wasn't such a coincidence.
The play came and went without incident. When both the actors and the audience are amateurs, there's no such thing as success or failure. Even so, approaching it like another rehearsal where you're just trying to avoid forgetting your lines from nervousness, Ogami ended it feeling like it truly was no different from the rehearsals.
The culture festival reached the end of its schedule, and Ogami walked with a sense of reluctance down the hall, where echoes of the festival lingered. As he changed his shoes at the entryway, Kujirai spoke from beside him, lit by the westering sun.
"It's a comedy today."
"An old one?", Ogami asked without looking up.
"Relatively new."
"When you say "relatively new," that means about 30 years old," he heard Sumika remark with a laugh behind them.
Even once there was no longer a need to study acting, Ogami and Sumika continued to visit Kujirai's garage. Yet bit by bit, the movie part became unnecessary, and the three started gathering to idly spend time more often. They even grouped together at school, and on days off, they sometimes went on day trips together.
During summer vacation, the garage became as hot as a sauna. Some days it would be so much that they were sweating even with the fan on, in which case they'd leave the garage and walk around town seeking ways to cool off. Just like how they sat on the sofa, Sumika was always in the middle of the lineup, inserted in between Ogami and Kujirai. It wasn't like someone decided it should be so, yet that lineup was what felt most right.
That's why even after so much time had passed, whenever Ogami recalled Sumika from those days, he'd get a glance of Kujirai's face over her shoulder. He too was someone Ogami had a grudge against, but compared to his grudge against Sumika, it was quite a bit weaker. Kujirai had been showing Ogami a number of hints from the beginning. In that sense, you could say he was a lot more fair than Sumika.
Though he found it too awkward to ever say as much to the two of them, Ogami felt that the only term that could describe the relationship between the three of them was "best friends." The trio of Ogami, Sumika, and Kujirai demonstrated the perfect relationship for a group mixing boys and girls; you couldn't ask for something better. Built on a careful balance you wouldn't get with three boys or three girls, it was something of a miraculous relationship. Looking around, he could see not a single group of people that maintained the appropriate distances the way they did.
By no means had he given up on his love of Sumika. Yet Ogami prioritized the preservation of their three-person relationship over romance, striving to not see Sumika differently as a girl. It required extraordinary effort, but it just went to show how valuable the time they spent as a trio was to him.
He was well aware such an unnatural relationship wouldn't last long. Eventually, an end would come to their friendship. The most perfect times will always leave you at some point. But Ogami had made up his mind: at least I won't do anything to hasten that day's coming.
He heard the rumor about Handcuff love-divination on a sunny morning in November the following year. The town was filled with an aroma signaling winter's arrival, and whenever the wind blew, you could hear the sound of dry fallen leaves rustling somewhere. It was on the way to school, so of course Sumika was there next to Ogami. Which meant Sumika heard the same rumor as the same time.
At that moment, Ogami and Sumika were waiting for the gate to rise at the railroad crossing. Behind them were two others also waiting. It was a pair of girls, having a rambling chat as girls their age are wont to do. Ogami had been tuning them out as background noise, but certain words suddenly caught his attention.
"Hey, have you heard? There's this thing where you can tell you likes you using your Bracelet."
Even after the gate went up and they started walking again, Ogami listened in on the two chatting behind them. Sumika, perhaps also interested in the conversation, was unusually quiet as she walked beside him. Their gossip soon ended, and they went back to talking about ordinary topics.
The gist of the rumor was this. There existed an app that could capture and analyze the data transmitted by Handcuffs, and using that, you could tell who had affections for you.
The "Health" part of the National Health Care System wasn't just referring to physical health. It also accounted for mental health, meaning the info collected by the Handcuff's extensive sensors didn't stop at simply biological data. For instance, it even included things like the wearer's relationships. Among the problems a person might have, some can only be resolved with the help of their personal network - that was the stated reasoning, setting aside whether it was true.
While the extent of the data being collected was publicized, it was not clear just how much the System could read from that information. But people were saying that for instance, by simply analyzing physiological responses, you might easily be able to predict things like personal feelings if you so desired - that the System might quietly be building a massive web of relationships based on likes and dislikes.
Of course, even supposing that were true, you'd likely have to analyze the server directly - surely analyzing transmissions from Handcuffs wouldn't allow you to go as far as determining who had affections for you. It was just a harmless rumor surrounding Handcuffs, one you could just laugh off and be done with.
So it should have been.
But days later, Ogami still couldn't forget about that rumor. No, it's an understatement to say he couldn't forget. Handcuff love-divination had been constantly sitting in the center of his thoughts.
If that rumor is true, I could ascertain Sumika's feelings without her even suspecting a thing. Not only that, I could even confirm what Kujirai thinks about her.
Since the first time Sumika visited the garage, Kujirai had kept a consistent attitude. He kept a line between him and Sumika as if out of consideration for Ogami, and carefully avoided being alone with Sumika without Ogami there.
And yet, Ogami thought. There was the matter of the photograph. At one time I'd decided that there was no deep meaning to that photo, but was that judgement accurate? Kujirai's showing consideration for me now, but could I say for certain that he always would?
What if Kujirai, too, is just keeping a lid on his feelings out of fear he'll ruin our three-person relationship?
If I can learn their relationship through this Handcuff love-divination thing, then I can come to some kind of personal settlement. If Sumika likes me back, there's nothing better than that, and if she likes Kujirai instead, I'd much prefer learning it this way to hearing it from Sumika's mouth. I'll quietly have my heart broken without her knowing, and be able to mentally prepare before their relationship develops. I'd no longer have to worry about facing the worst kind of surprise attack.
Or maybe she didn't have a romantic interest in anyone. In that case, we could maintain the same relationship as usual.
He got as far as typing keywords into a search engine box. But he was barely able to stop himself there. This kind of approach wasn't fair. Maybe Kujirai or Sumika are feeling similar anxieties to me. For me alone to use this method to get relief, as if stealing a glance at their hearts, would be equivalent to betraying their friendship.
After much struggle, Ogami managed to reject the allure of Handcuff divination. And he felt just a little proud of himself for arriving at such a decision.
That said, if Kujirai had been sufficiently informed at this point, it's dubious whether he would arrive at a similar conclusion. Ogami, at the time he heard the rumor, still had something safe to fall back on. Even supposing Kujirai had feelings for Sumika, Ogami had the quiet conceit that she would likely choose him.
Even when the three acted together, there would be times when she had to pick one of the two. And at those times, Sumika would always prioritize Ogami. It was never the case that Sumika and Kujirai would go home from school together, whereas she did so with Ogami near-daily. There were times when Sumika would briefly touch Ogami physically, but he never saw her touch Kujirai.
Above all, Sumika and Kujirai becoming friends at all was largely just the way things went. Meanwhile, she clearly befriended Ogami out of her own volition. Even looking at only the objective facts, he felt that he had more advantages.
Naturally, however much friendliness Sumika felt for him, whether it was love was something else entirely. You could even take the perspective that she treated him so lightheartedly because he wasn't a target of affection. Yet you could also say she was having trouble taking the next step because he was a target of affection.
Kujirai is a fascinating man, Ogami thought. Even I think that as a guy, so I can only imagine how he looks to a girl. Some people have charms that are only liked by their own gender or only by others, but Kujirai wasn't like that. Not just likable as a man, he was likable as a human. If it were between me and Kujirai, it'd only be natural to pick Kujirai.
Even so, perhaps Sumika, and only Sumika, was judging people on a basis different from your average girl. The fact that the faux pas which isolated me is what led to her interest in me was the number one proof of that.
Sumika's feelings toward me are unlike the feelings she has for anyone else - even if they aren't love - so shouldn't I at least be confident in the fact that I'm special to her?
Those hopeful predictions of Ogami's, in truth, did hit close to reality. With the only problem lying in what "special" entailed.
It happened on a Sunday two weeks later, as Christmas approached.
That day was a rare occasion: the three of them were each on their own because they had their own things to attend to. Kujirai said he was going skiing with his family, and Sumika said she would be attending a school event for her little sister. Ogami was supposed to visit his grandmother's house, but circumstances changed in the morning, and the plans were postponed.
He hadn't been alone on a Sunday in a long while. After cleaning his room and lightly browsing social media, he felt restless and left the house. It was 1 in the afternoon, yet it was as dark as evening, with snow seeming likely to come down any moment.
After walking aimlessly for a while, Ogami stopped in front of a building. It was an old two-story apartment building built from wood, sitting in the corner of the residential district looking like an outcast compared to the surrounding buildings. The once white exterior had blackened beyond saving, and the rusted front steps looked as if holes might soon open up in them. He could sense no one's presence through any of the six windows, and there was not a single car in the presumed parking spots in front.
Ogami had always felt charmed by that gloomy apartment building, which seemed to have no charm as a residence. It's not like he yearned for frugal living, but he had the sense that such a lifestyle filled with deficiency suited someone like him.
Maybe the time he spent in Kujirai's garage had planted that perspective in him. That, too, was difficult to call a comfortable place. It was terrible in the summertime, but even worse in winter. It got cold enough that you might have no problems converting it into a freezer. At its chilliest last year, they wore blankets over their coats, huddled around the heater, and kept drinking hot tea from a heated kettle.
They could have simply moved into the main part of the house, but the three also found they enjoyed the difficulties of the garage. All three of them had learned from school life, like it or not, that sharing in suffering deepens bonds of friendship faster than anything.
Standing outside the apartment, Ogami imagined himself living there. At first, he placed Sumika next to his imaginary self. He tried to paint a picture of the two of them living an inconvenient yet sufficient life in a cramped tatami-floor room. But something felt wrong about that. This sort of life didn't fit Sumika. He wanted her to be living a peaceful life somewhere more clean.
Next, he imagined living a life of poverty with Kujirai. This felt entirely correct. They ate bland meals every morning with a low table between them, having frivolous conversation as they headed to their respective workplaces. They saved up to buy a cheap used car, and toiled to fix it themselves every time it broke down. On the weekend, they drove the car to visit Sumika. Celebrating some kind of anniversary, they got drunk until morning, and spent the whole next day lying down on the tatami floor.
An anniversary. Come to think of it, I haven't gotten Christmas presents for Sumika or Kujirai yet, Ogami recalled. Last Christmas, Sumika suddenly gave him a present, so he hurriedly ran off with Kujirai to a variety store in a neighboring town. To avoid that happening again this year, he thought he should get something prepared soon.
He thought of a present for Kujirai right away. He and Kujirai's tastes matched. He could just assume that anything which would make him happy to get, Kujirai would be happy to get.
Yet he struggled to think of a gift appropriate for Sumika. She had no clear hobbies or tastes to speak of. Not that she didn't have anything fun in her life, but it was almost like life itself was her hobby.
Indeed, last Christmas he'd asked her directly what sort of thing she'd want, but her answer was "I don't know either."
"Oh, but I'm happy with anything if it's from you, Ogami," she hastily appended. "Whether it's a pencil, an hourglass, anything."
"Talk about selfless," Ogami said, somewhat amazed. "Come to think of it, I've never really seen you wanting anything."
"That's not true. I'll absolutely give my all to get something if I really want it, like anyone else."
"Such as?"
"It's not possible to name something "such as" the thing you really want."
"You just can't think of anything, can you?"
"Not yet, no," she admitted. "If you're so insistent, what do you want the most, Ogami?"
He didn't remember how he answered that question. But most likely, he told some terribly boring lie. That was for the best, he thought. Because if he'd spoken his real feelings, he'd surely get a similarly boring answer.
Riding the bus to the next town over, he perused the same store he went to last year. After thinking it over for about 30 minutes, he decided to buy a Bracelet stand. It was a conical wooden stand, and pricey for a mere stand, but it seemed good quality. For Kujirai, he bought a leather keychain shaped like a shoehorn. This too matched Ogami's tastes so much he was loath to give it as a gift, meaning there was no question Kujirai would like it too. While ringing them up, the clerk explained that both were handmade, one-of-a-kind items.
He had the stand and keychain wrapped for him, then left the shop. As he rode the bus holding the paper bag, he started to become uneasy about his choices. Kujirai aside, would Sumika be happy to receive this?
He got off the bus partway and walked toward Kujirai's house. He likely had already bought a present for Sumika, or at least had an idea. If he could casually ask what he chose, that would be a good reference.
Kujirai was supposed to be skiing with his family, which was the whole reason the three were spending time apart that day, but Ogami only remembered that after ringing his doorbell.
He waited by the door for about 30 seconds, but of course got no reply. He gave up and stepped away, setting his sights on the garage. He didn't think Kujirai would be there, but thought it might be a good way to kill time. Kujirai had given him permission to enter the garage freely even when he wasn't there.
As he neared the garage, he noticed the shutter was open about 20 inches. Maybe someone forgot to shut it, or perhaps Kujirai was also at home because of a change in plans. Just after he thought that, he heard a voice that sounded like Sumika's through the gap in the shutter. It seemed it wasn't just Kujirai - Sumika was also in there.
Sumika was also in there?
He instantly came to a halt. Looking around to make sure no one was looking, he hid himself beside the garage. The sound was muffled, so he couldn't make out their conversation, but it seemed he was correct that Kujirai and Sumika were there.
As he held his breath to listen in, even though it wasn't like he'd been running, his heart pounded rapidly. Worrying that his heartbeat could be felt through the wall, Ogami kept his back slightly away from the garage.
"Why didn't... from the start..." Ogami was barely able to make out some of Sumika's words.
The mood didn't seem cheerful. Both voices had a tinge of tension to them. It was almost like they were rehearsing for a play, but while that might have checked out a year ago, there was no reason for them to be doing that now.
Neither Kujirai nor Sumika were supposed to be here in the first place. Just one of the two would be one thing, but it was hard to imagine that both of them had a change of plans. Even if this just happened by coincidence, hadn't Kujirai always avoided being alone with Sumika without Ogami there?
Ogami's confusion only deepened further when a moment later, he heard the sound of Sumika crying.
There was no question they were having some important discussion. And it likely had to be something they could only talk about without Ogami.
What in the world were they talking about?
The first thing Ogami imagined was that Sumika had admitted her affection for Kujirai and been rejected. And she was doing this when Ogami wasn't around because she had picked up on his feelings. Kujirai turning her down, too, would be because he was aware of those feelings.
If this guess was right, it was the worst possible development for Ogami. And even if he was just overthinking it, it was clear the two were sharing some kind of secret. It could even be something entirely unrelated to romance. And yet, there was no changing that Sumika had chosen Kujirai to show her tears to.
There was no changing that Ogami had been cut out.
Eventually, he heard the shutter open. At about the same time, a door closed inside the garage. It seemed Kujirai had gone into the house, and Sumika had left the garage.
Ogami continued to stand there next to the garage for a long while. Once the sun set and the streetlights came on, he finally came to his senses, and fled back home.
The next morning, Ogami dragged his sleep-deprived body out of the house. He took 42 steps, turned left, counted 56 steps, and saw Sumika's smile in front of him. "Good morning, Ogami," she said, bounding down from the porch. She bumped into Ogami from the momentum, and laughed playfully.
A faint hope crossed Ogami's mind: Maybe this whole thing is a misunderstanding. But when he looked at Sumika's face up close, there were unmistakable traces of tears. As if she had been crying all night.
He hoped for some kind of explanation soon, but even by next week, the two of them had not referenced what happened on Sunday. For Kujirai, it didn't help that it was exam season, so they didn't have many opportunities to talk. But Sumika had plenty of opportunities to tell the truth if she felt like it. She'd always detailed the most trivial news to Ogami; it was inconceivable she won't touch on an incident that made her cry. However he looked at it, she had to be hiding it from him.
He couldn't be worried about appearances anymore. He had to know what had happened between them, no matter how. Exams ended, and winter break was approaching. He decided he needed to clear everything up soon, while he could still meet Sumika every day.
That was how the rumor of Handcuff divination grabbed Ogami's heart once more, and guided him to the Town of Sakura.
On December 20th, a heavy snow warning was issued to the town. The snowstorm lasting half a day had colored the whole town white, but Ogami, busy researching at home, didn't even know that.
At some point, he'd fallen asleep at his desk. When he woke up, the app was already installed on his computer, and a page showing how to use it was displayed on the monitor. He couldn't clearly remember how he arrived at that page.
But it seemed certain that this was the app for Handcuff love-divination. His sleepy mind couldn't follow all the technical terms, but he at least understood the part about analyzing Handcuff transmissions.
The clock showed it was 12 PM. Probably because he'd fallen asleep with the heater on, his throat was terribly dry.
It appeared the app was named "BlossomBuddy."
Contrary to the name, the gray icon depicted a desolate, bare tree.
But this was no time to be looking into the origin of the app's name. Following the complex instructions on the page, he set up his computer to accommodate the app's functionality, synced it with his Handcuff, and got it started on analyzing the data.
By the time he got back from taking a shower, the analysis had finished. Not even bothering to dry his hair, he sat at the desk to check the results. At a glance, they showed more or less the same thing as the medical reports the System sent him every month. There was nothing to be gained from just being shown this again.
He scrolled down the page, feeling despair creeping in, when a line in the analysis with emphasized red text jumped out at him. Red text. That meant something high-risk.
Hurriedly scrolling back up, he checked what it was.
And there it said: "suicide risk."
There had been, of course, no such diagnosis in any of the medical reports the System had sent before.
BlossomBuddy was a tool for killing flowers. A way to root out Sakura, in other words.
Among the evaluations the System made based on collected Handcuff data, there were numerous things the wearer themselves would not be informed of. An emblematic one of these was "suicide risk."
A person who had been diagnosed as having a high suicide risk would be supported in various ways without their knowledge. They would generally try to put together a solution that involved connecting high-risk individuals with suitable facilities, organizations, or services, but there were no small number of cases for which this wasn't enough. The proposed way of filling this hole was the prompter system.
A prompter wasn't a professional like a counselor. The System would select the most suitable person from the high-risk person's surroundings and appoint them as a prompter. Broadly speaking, it was their duty to approach the high-risk individual as a good friend, and prevent their suicide.
Prompters would be given the appropriate training before being sent to the high-risk individual. Depending on the severity of the risk, multiple prompters might be sent. Their duty would last until the risk dropped to a safe value. Furthermore, it recently became forbidden by law for prompters to reveal themselves as prompters.
The name "prompter" came from the term used in opera and theater. Like prompters dressed in black who, out of the audience's sight, support actors who forget lyrics or lines, they were asked to be figures who supported troubled people from behind the scenes. (There were probably clearer choices for the name, but an English word unfamiliar to most Japanese people probably served them better. If you were sent something as blunt as "You've been appointed as Suicide Prevention Staff," anyone would surely recoil.)
On the whole, the prompter system worked effectively, and actually helped lower the suicide rate, so society generally accepted it favorably. As a result of frequent heartwarming stories in the media related to prompters, having the experience was seen as conferring a certain kind of societal status.
But on the other hand, the prompter system was creating a new kind of sickness. A sickness of suspicion, referred to as Sakura Delusion.
People began to think: What if all the people around me are prompters assigned by the System, putting on an act of being friendly with me? They're kind to me on the surface, but what if deep down they're just committing to a duty they were given, and I'm actually shunned by everyone?
What if they weren't so much prompters supporting the play that is my life from the shadows, but rather, reluctant seat-fillers? A paid audience of sakura, with all the transience that implies?
Kozaki's words from long ago suddenly arose in Ogami's mind.
You know, Ogami, I was thinking for sure you were a Sakura.
Popularly known as BlossomBuddy, the app's official name was "Blossom Killer." It was developed for people suffering from Sakura Delusion. If using BlossomBuddy showed you had a low suicide risk, the odds that you had Sakura assigned to you were extremely low. You'd no longer have to worry about Sakura Delusion steering you astray.
Meanwhile, if you were judged to have a high suicide risk, there was a high chance that you already had Sakura assigned to you.
Here we had a young man. He had no awareness of any suicidal tendencies, but checked against the System's standards, he was a prime candidate for someone who might kill himself. He had extremely few associates, with only two who he might call best friends - and if you left them out, it would be fair to say he had no proper interaction with anyone. Even his relationship with his family couldn't be called favorable.
Now, if there were already multiple Sakura assigned to him, who might they be?
There was no need to even think about it.
Maybe I'm not as strong a person as I thought.
That winter in my first year when I was isolated in the classroom, I was in a dangerous place mentally. I didn't realize it myself, but my body was putting out enough signals for me to be viewed as having a high risk of suicide. The System received that from my Handcuff, and decided to assign me a prompter - that theory began forming in Ogami's mind.
Normally, even if the target of support was a middle schooler, a middle schooler wouldn't be selected as the prompter. Not only communicating well with someone at high risk of suicide, but completely concealing that you're a prompter, is a heavy burden to put on a child in their early teens. Even for a mature adult, there were only so many who could sufficiently carry out the job.
And yet, as it would happen, there was an excellent candidate in Ogami's vicinity who could smoothly carry out the duty of a prompter. In fact, there were two. Sumika Takasago, and Shogo Kujirai.
First, Sumika took on the duty. She filled the role of suicide prevention staff perfectly, and saved Ogami from imminent crisis. But the System judged that her actions alone were insufficient, and after a gap of a few months, assigned Kujirai as a second prompter. He was expected to support Ogami from a different angle than Sumika, and he too executed this perfectly. But even then, Ogami's suicide risk wasn't improved enough to declare it safe, so they were still wearing the mask of "Ogami's good friends" to this day.
Behind those masks, perhaps they were looking at him with eyes full of hatred, for he was keeping them bound to their duty as prompters.
Ogami tried to shake off those thoughts, realizing "isn't this textbook Sakura Delusion?" It happened all the time. A healthy person can be driven mad by someone else's persecution complex. Just by being temporarily exposed to the poison of delusion, soon everything starts to look foolish. Even the app's analysis wasn't necessarily accurate. If it were this easy to read the transmission data, you'd surely have free reign to steal the data from other people's Handcuffs too. There was a significant possibility that the app was a fake, making you go through steps which sounded right and then just showing you a diagnosis that sounded right.
But the more he thought about it, the more his theory that Sumika and Kujirai were prompters seemed to have veracity. I had completely gotten used to it now, and accepted it as natural, but thinking back, hadn't I obtained happiness far beyond my position? Why was I, a man with no redeeming qualities, able to acquire such wonderful friends without any effort at all?
I'd thought of Sumika as an angel who saved me from my predicament. But an angel is a messenger of the heavens, so in the same way tracing back an angel's intentions leads you to the will of the heavens, perhaps it wasn't her own will, but the will of the System?
Was I just a foolish jester, feeling genuinely proud to receive applause from a paid crowd?
On Christmas day, they'd planned to have a bit of a party in Kujirai's garage. But the meeting time passed by, and Ogami still hadn't left home, lying down in his bed. His parents didn't seem to think this was especially unusual. It was exam season, so that sort of thing can happen - that may have been the most thought they gave it.
He didn't know if they would honestly reveal themselves or not. But once he showed some suspicion, it would force some sort of response from them. It was impossible to keep acting as a "good friend" while having suspicion of being a Sakura cast upon you.
He'd spent the last few days setting the stage. By now, the two had no doubt picked up on Ogami's suspicion. All that remained was to clearly point the finger. You guys are my Sakura, aren't you?
He could do it right this moment if he wanted. He could just make a call. And if they didn't pick up the phone, he could just go directly to their houses. He had tried to do just that several times, but always faltered just beforehand. Ogami endlessly lay in bed, gazing at the ceiling. He felt simultaneously like the accused awaiting judgement, as well as the judge announcing it. It would bring him relief to get it over with quickly, but he couldn't even bring himself to move his fingertips.
Past 6 PM on December 26th, Sumika visited Ogami's house. The moment he heard the doorbell, he knew it was her ringing it. He'd been convinced that she would come see him around this time. Past the open door, Sumika would be wearing her usual deep blue coat, her usual rouge-colored scarf, and her usual carefree smile, saying his name like she usually did.
Because that's what Ogami wanted her to do.
The front door opened, and there was the scene just as he had pictured it.
"Ogami."
Ogami looked at her face wordlessly. He tried to see through into the depths of her eyes. But he couldn't identify any differences from the usual in her expression or attitude. When he thought about how he'd stood them up, that overly-natural smile instead felt unnatural to him. It seemed to be snowing hard outside, as the shoulders of her coat were stained with snow.
She didn't bring up the party. "Let's go for a walk," she proposed innocently. "I've always liked walking around at night at the end of the year. Doesn't it have that feeling like the whole town's become one?"
Ogami gave a brief nod. A situation where they could be alone was most desirable for settling the issue with her. Doing it at the front door would just distract him. He put on his duffle coat from the coat hanger and boots, then went outside.
It wasn't windy, but that meant the snow was piled thick and damp. It came up high enough for his ankles to sink in, and the sound of shovels digging through the snow echoed in the darkness. Down the main street, he heard a snow plow driving around. You couldn't call this suitable weather for a walk. Ogami put up the hood on his coat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
He didn't know what expectations Sumika had in coming to see him. Was she still intending to sidestep Sakura suspicion, or was she going to reveal herself here? He could bring things to a head himself by simply questioning her, but for the time being, he decided to observe her actions.
Stepping onto the main street, there was no one around. The occasional car that showed up slowed down as much as it could, windshield wipers working busily.
When Sumika almost tripped due to a difference in elevation obscured by the snow, and Ogami grabbed her hand, he felt momentary relief before immediately regretting it. She said "thank you" with some slight embarrassment, and while her voice sounded entirely natural, even that now only sounded like a line being performed to Ogami. He quickly let go of her hand, and put his hands back in his pockets.
Walking the path along the railroad track, Ogami had a thought. I'm at a crucial junction in my life. The pain awaiting me might be enough to change me as a person, down to my very core. Despite this, I'm unusually calm. He had a dry perspective, as if he were looking down on this present from decades in the future.
Or else, maybe that pain is too much for me to accept right now. I might not be able to gauge its true size unless I spend an unimaginably long time chewing on it. Pain like that had to be processed in parts, so maybe my mind is already preparing to minimize the pain that's going to befall me now.
At some point, Sumika got a fair bit ahead of him. She stopped and turned around, then when Ogami caught up, started walking again.
"I called again and again yesterday. Did you notice?", she asked.
"I noticed," Ogami replied.
"Were you busy?"
He couldn't answer that question. Sumika wore the same smile she always did when visiting his house, but looking at it up close, the smile seemed somehow strained.
He wondered if this was how her smile had always been.
After seeing she wasn't getting an answer, she changed to a more direct question.
"Are you avoiding me, maybe?"
Ogami silently nodded.
"Why?"
As she asked repeated questions, he could sense impatience in Sumika's tone.
"Wouldn't you be the one who knows that best?", Ogami said.
Sumika stayed silent for a while, but didn't stop walking. He didn't know where she was headed, but at the moment, they seemed to be following the route to school. It's not like they had a destination, did they? They were just subconsciously walking a path they were used to taking.
Eventually, she opened her mouth.
And she said, in an indifferent voice that sounded like someone else's:
"I guess so."
Those words were enough.
The girl who had been his best friend took off her mask and reverted to being an actor.
The railroad crossing came into view. The place where Ogami first heard about Handcuff love-divination. If those two talking about it hadn't been stopped by the gate coming down, if he hadn't heard their gossip, Ogami might have been treating this day like any other.
As if awoken by the sound of their footsteps, the warning bell rang, and the gate began to lower.
When the train drew near, Ogami had a sudden thought. If I jumped onto the tracks right now, what kind of face would she make? Of course, he wasn't seriously thinking of doing it. Yet a sane person wouldn't arrive at that kind of idea, either. Maybe Blossom Killer's diagnosis wasn't necessarily off the mark.
Thinking back, maybe he'd always been charmed by things that had the scent of death. Even as a kid, he liked places like hospitals and retirement homes. He felt oddly calm seeing flowers offered at the sites of accidents, and when he saw news about suicides, he always had to check up on the details.
Even when Kozaki killed himself, his first thought might not have been "way to go," but something closer to "you sly dog."
The train roared past the crossing gate. In his imagination, he saw himself becoming chunks of meat that scattered across the fresh snow. The train went off into the distance at incredible speed, disappearing beyond the trees in no time.
The gate and the warning lights went back to sleep, and silence filled the air.
One person's footsteps gently broke the silence.
After she'd reached the other side of the crossing, Ogami spoke.
"You never really liked me at all, did you?"
Sumika stopped and turned around, and started to say something, but her mouth froze like an actor who'd forgotten their lines.
...That's not true at all. Sure, at first I didn't like you very much. A letter came telling me to be a Sakura, and so I reluctantly got close to you. But soon, I realized I felt unusually comfortable playing the role of your friend. By the time the first month had passed, I hardly even needed to act. But whenever we cut loose a bit, I had to tell myself that this was just a performance. Even without an impetus like this, I'm sure we would have ended up with a relationship like this eventually... I knew I needed to tell you I was a Sakura someday, Ogami. But if I could, I wanted to wait until I was naturally removed as a Sakura. Though in the end, that only made you suspicious. But I want you to believe me. I like you, Ogami.
Those were the kinds of words Ogami was hoping to hear.
But the Sumika who followed backstage directions to simply give him the words he hoped for was here no longer.
That had been nothing more than a role.
With a sober smile, she said:
"Yeah. I didn't like you at all."
That was their final conversation.
Even after Sumika walked away, Ogami stood at the railroad crossing as if waiting for something. Maybe that thing was a girl coming back to give him a hug and words of apology, or maybe it was a merciless hunk of metal which would come and smash his real, non-imaginary self into pieces. Maybe it was a deus ex machina that would descend from the sky and solve everything, or maybe it was modest applause from some external being who had been watching this little tragedy.
He didn't know how long he waited. The edges of his vision glowed red, and the warning bell started to sound again. He saw the train's small headlights off in the distance. He knew he had no desire to jump in front of it. Ogami turned away from the crossing and began quietly walking.
After the train passed by, he turned around just once. The bell was still ringing, as if reluctant to go. Snow covered the branches of the dead trees along the road, and the blinking warning lights beyond them dyed the snow a light red.
To Ogami's bleary eyes, they looked like out-of-season sakura trees.
*
And thus, the town where he was born was transformed into the Town of Sakura.
*
Saying farewell to Kujirai was much simpler compared to Sumika. Ogami visited Kujirai's house at a later date, and matter-of-factly asked him if he was his prompter.
Kujirai readily admitted it.
"I'm relieved, honestly," he said with a refreshing smile. "I was getting irritated with you lately. I was planning to give you the talk soon, but I'm glad you picked up on it first. Now that it's come to this, I should be getting replaced by someone else."
Because he'd gotten pretty much the reaction he expected, Ogami was able to accept the truth rather easily. By having him admit it so boldly instead of awkwardly trying to talk out of it, he could close off his heart much more quickly.
The talk about going skiing and a little sister's school event must have both been lies so the two could create an opportunity to meet in secret. That day Ogami went to buy presents for the two, Kujirai covertly called Sumika to have a discussion as fellow Sakura. Feeling the limits of keeping things up with Ogami, he revealed his intention to expose himself.
Sumika panicked when she heard this. Because if he did that, there was no question she'd be exposed as a Sakura too. Whether out of innate kindness or simply common decency, she felt it was her duty to see her role as a Sakura through to the end. So she tearfully pleaded with Kujirai to change his mind. Kujirai reluctantly gave in, and decided to keep up the act a little longer. But Ogami happened to witness that exchange, and so despite all her efforts, he realized the two of them were Sakura.
That was more or less the truth of things, wasn't it?
Maybe Kujirai showing Ogami all those movies was a silent cry of "see through my act already, and free me from this position."
It was a quiet winter break. The new year came, and three days of it passed. Feeling his parents would be suspicious if he was moping all the time, Ogami started pretending to go out and visit Sumika or Kujirai daily. Avoiding routes where he might encounter anyone he knew, he killed time in places he could be alone. It's not that he didn't want to worry his parents. He just didn't want to show weakness to anyone. He couldn't stand for having any more Sakura.
It hadn't even been two weeks since his best friends were exposed, but Ogami was already solidifying the direction of his life to come.
Don't get involved with anyone. Don't let anyone sympathize with you.
And don't have fondness for anyone.
The break ended, and his last three months of middle school began. All three of the trio treated each other as people who didn't exist. As graduation neared, the class unified, with increasingly many students who felt reluctant to leave and hung around the classroom after school. Amid that, the total breakdown of the trio's relationship must have stuck out all the more.
However, there also wasn't anyone who decided to ask Ogami about it. Maybe the fact that the other two were Ogami's Sakura was common knowledge, and he was the only one who didn't know. That idea made his cheeks heat up, and made him want to run out of the school. Even so, the self-conscious fear that such a reaction would delight them the most kept Ogami chained to school.
It was something that had already happened. Which meant that the most he could do was pretend he wasn't hurt. He became a loner, but he could simply go "well, this isn't actually so bad." Until he'd eventually have everyone thinking "that guy didn't really need Sakura to begin with."
What gave him some meager comfort was that the relationship between Kujirai and Sumika was also severed. They must have just pretended to be friendly with each other as Sakura supporting the same person. Had they turned out to become a couple after the removal of Ogami, who impeded that relationship, he might have never been able to recover.
Ogami became an even more closed-off person than before, hardly speaking to anyone up to graduation. Even after going to college, he avoided associations to the utmost, rejecting people when they showed even the smallest shred of interest or sympathy. He came to distrust people the more they were kind or favorable to him, opening up only to those who were harsh or antagonistic. It was like choosing to only water trees if they were dead.
During high school, he worked part-time jobs to slowly save up money, and left home to start living alone at the same time he graduated. By then, he felt he was able to clearly understand the events that happened to him. Sumika and Kujirai had just faithfully carried out the jobs they were given. It wasn't those two who deceived me, nor the System's design that led them to deceive me, which deserved the most blame. That would be none other than myself, for being so weak as to need the support of Sakura.
Even with that understanding, Ogami wasn't able to fully quell his anger. He knew they had just done the jobs they were given. He knew that. But did that mean they had to deceive him so brilliantly? There was no need to so thoroughly charm someone you were going to forsake eventually, was there?
He managed to turn that anger, something of an unjustified resentment, into a positive. The only resource he had left was a desire for revenge, and by burning it, he survived seven years past middle school graduation. He perceived Sumika and Kujirai, the System who created Sakura, and the society who let them get away with it as enemies. Depending on your perspective, life can be easier when there's a villain. It fogs up the problems around you and gathers everything into a single focal point.
Someday I'll get my revenge on Sumika and Kujirai, Ogami thought vaguely. But he couldn't even guess when or where it might happen. All he could say for sure was, it wouldn't be a matter of simply making them suffer as much as possible - the pain they felt had to be the same kind that Ogami tasted.