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4

Ogami had visited Sumika's house countless times during the two years they interacted, but thinking about it, he hadn't been let inside the house even a single time. Similarly, Sumika never went into Ogami's house. Even on days off when Kujirai wasn't present, neither one invited the other to their house, always using spaces like the community center or the rest area at the supermarket.

For Sumika's part, she probably wanted to avoid her performance as a Sakura spilling into her private spaces. Ogami also had no thoughts of wanting to actively introduce his parents to acquaintances, and didn't want adults to overly suspect his relationship with Sumika. So he actually found a relationship that kept their houses off-limits to be desirable.

Still, he did know that Sumika had a sister a few years younger than her. When he went to pick up Sumika in the morning on weekdays, frequently he would bump into a girl who looked exactly as if Sumika's growth had been rolled back a couple of years. When she saw Ogami, she always gave him a bluntly displeased look. Maybe she felt like he was taking her big sister away, or maybe she saw through the twisted relationship between them.

Sumika had often said that her sister had a similar name to her, so her father was always getting their names mixed up even after all these years.

"I mean, why give sisters such similar names? It's bad enough as it is that we look the same."

So when Sumika, who should have been dead, showed up in front of Ogami wearing a familiar-looking uniform, his sense of reason quickly told him that she wasn't some sort of ghost. Upon closer inspection, while she did resemble Sumika, he spotted slight differences in the details of her face.

Even then, it took some time for him to regain presence of mind. During that time, she looked up at him with the exact same displeased face as back then.

Approaching it with a calm mind, you could certainly argue this was a convenient situation. He had come to check with Sumika's parents, but if her little sister was here, she would be easier to talk with. She was close to him in age, and there was less that could get in the way.

Trying to remember the little sister's name, Ogami tried rearranging the syllables of "Sumika" in his head. On his third try, he arrived at a combination that seemed like the correct one.

"Kasumi... wasn't it?"

Her expression clearly conveyed that her wariness had gone up a level.

"Who would you be?"

It was a stiff and tense voice, but something about the shape of it felt just like Sumika's.

"I'm a friend of your sister," Ogami answered. Then he corrected himself: "Ex-friend."

"Ex-friend," Kasumi repeated. "Well then, that means you're of no relevance now."

With that, she turned and walked away as if to say there was nothing more to talk about. Ogami went after her. When he tried to stand next to her, she increased her pace.

"Do you have some business?", Kasumi asked with resignation, seeing that Ogami would keep tagging along.

"I want to talk to you about your sister."

"She died half a year ago. It was suicide. Is that all?"

"Don't you have anything to explain there?"

Kasumi came to a stop and glared at Ogami.

"I know who my sister associated with better than anyone. And someone like you..."

After saying that, she suddenly started to stare at Ogami's face as if realizing something.

"You remember?", Ogami prompted.

Kasumi timidly asked: "Ogami?"

"Right. I'm Masaki Ogami, who came to pick up your sister all the time back when you were in elementary school."

Instantly, her attitude did a complete 180.

"You should have said that up front!" She walked over to Ogami and took a look at him from various angles, a smile on her face. "Wow, how did I not realize?"

That reaction disturbed Ogami somewhat. Because even if Kasumi remembered Ogami, he expected the reaction to that name coming up wouldn't have been a positive one. Had seven years of time shaved away the antagonism from her memory, or was he mistaken from the start to think she disliked him?

"I forgot something at school, and was just on my way to go get it," Kasumi said, pointing at her uniform. "Do you mind if we walk and talk?"

Ogami said he was fine with that.

She seemed to be headed for the train station. She was evidently attending the same high school Sumika had - the one Ogami would have gone to as well, had nothing happened. He remembered the look of the uniform, with its mainly gray color scheme.

"Ogami, you feel so much grown-up compared to back then," Kasumi remarked with admiration.

"That's because I grew up," Ogami replied. "You've gotten pretty big yourself. What year are you in?"

"I'm a third-year. I'm graduating soon."

"I see," said Ogami. He didn't have any impressions beyond that. He had no strong memories of high school whatsoever. He could barely even remember what he was doing around this time in his third year.

"I guess there's no point talking about me," Kasumi noted tactfully. "You said you wanted to talk about my sister. How much do you know?"

"Hardly anything. I got a call from an old acquaintance, who told me only the fact that Sumika had taken her own life. Didn't seem to feel like telling me a single thing more."

"That's... rather strange," Kasumi replied, her head tilting to the side. Her shoulder-length hair shook gently along with that motion. "Aside from relatives, only a small handful of people should know about her death. How could word have gotten out?"

"I guess that's just how these things go," Ogami supposed. His tone of voice dropped as he continued. "Incidentally, I know these kinds of question might be uncomfortable, but..."

"Please don't worry about it," Kasumi interrupted. "It's already happened; I don't think anything of it."

"Then I'll get straight to the point. Do you have any inkling of why your sister... did what she did?"

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't," Kasumi answered after thinking it over for a while. "She'd always been mentally unstable in ways, but around spring last year, she apparently became terribly aggressive, causing trouble for those around her. Though she didn't display that sort of behavior to me."

Always mentally unstable in ways. Becoming aggressive, causing others trouble. It sounded like they were talking about a completely different person from the Sumika that Ogami knew. But people will change after seven years. Ogami himself was a far cry from the person he had been then.

This was a good start. Yet doubts remained.

Soon, the two arrived at the train station. There was no one around in the building, so small that it felt more like a storage room. There weren't even station workers. According to the time table, it was still about 10 minutes until the next train. Sitting on a plastic bench faded in color, the two continued their conversation.

Ogami indicated his Handcuff to her. "So this thing didn't do its job, then?"

"Yes. I hate to say it, but it wasn't any use at all. Bracelets strictly only analyze and give detailed reports about suicide risk; it's not as if they'll directly prevent a suicide. Of course, you could also say what "didn't do its job" was us, her family and friends who should have supported her..." After saying this much, she realized the thorniness of her remarks and hastily appended, "Oh, no, I don't mean you, Ogami. You've been far away for a while, right?"

"Yeah, far away. Last time I met her was seven years ago."

Kasumi seemed relieved hearing that. Actually, maybe she'd be happier if he told her they hadn't really been friends to begin with. But the circumstances around that were much too complicated to explain here and now.

"Then you knew my sister at the best time. Please, keep her that way in your memory."

Ogami nodded. Though in reality, he wanted to forget even that if he could.

"You said earlier it was half a year ago."

"Yes. At the end of August last year."

"Did she leave anything like a suicide note?"

"As far as I know, there wasn't anything of the sort. Maybe it was a spontaneous suicide, with no time to afford for a note. So even we aren't aware of any clear motive. Still, she was confused enough as it was, and maybe that caused even her friends to desert her. So maybe she got fed up with everything, herself included."

Ogami felt a sudden urge to ask what method of suicide Sumika had chosen. But thinking about it, it made no real difference whether she had jumped, hung herself, or what. Sumika's body was already gone from this world.

He had learned plenty of what he needed to know. Sumika Takasago was dead with no room for doubt, and he could see nothing unnatural about her death. An emotionally frail woman had driven herself to death - end of story.

"Thanks for talking with me," Ogami said gratefully.

"It's no problem. I'm glad to answer a request from you, Ogami."

An automatic message played announcing the train's arrival, and Kasumi stood up from the bench. Ogami followed her up to the platform, then saw her off from there.

Just before boarding the train, Kasumi turned around and said, "Ogami."

"I was happy to meet you after so long. Well then, I hope to see you again sometime."

Before Ogami could say anything back, the door shut, and she waved from behind the glass window.

Once the train left, Ogami walked to the edge of the platform and lit a cigarette. Vivid images popped up one after another in his mind, undesired as they may have been. If me and Sumika's relationship had gone on just a little longer, we would've surely walked to the train station together, just like I did with Kasumi today, and taken the same train to high school. And in exchange for that slight extension, I would've experienced a far greater pain than the one I experienced seven years ago.

With Sumika gone, he'd thought the Town of Sakura was safe now. Kujirai had surely left town long ago. He wasn't the type to have an attachment to his hometown, and this place was far too small for a guy on his scale.

Besides, Ogami didn't feel as threatened by Kujirai as he was by Sumika. Even if he encountered him again by some chance, he felt confident that it wouldn't disturb him as badly as it would to encounter Sumika. Ultimately, maybe Kujirai just wasn't as important to him as her.

So he had felt relieved. But meeting Kasumi Takasago had attacked Ogami's weak points even more directly than meeting Sumika herself would. Supposing Ogami met Sumika while she was still alive, the real Sumika would at least deny the "what if" Sumika he subconsciously painted in his mind. But Kasumi Takasago was that "what if," in the flesh. A higher-purity Sumika Takasago than the real thing, you could say.

He dropped his cigarette to the ground and put it out with his foot. Nothing productive would come of soaking in his devastation here. Now that he'd gotten reliable information from a relative of Sumika's, there was no more reason to stay in this town.

Returning to the parking lot, he went right into the nearby supermarket, bought a sandwich and mineral water, and had a light meal in the rest area. He realized he hadn't eaten a thing since this morning, but didn't feel that hungry considering. The sandwich had a perfectly fine flavor and bite to it, yet it felt like he was eating it with someone else's mouth. It's like I've gone back to three years ago, Ogami thought. Back when I was first struggling to live away from my hometown, this is how everything tasted in my mouth.

Once done eating, he left the supermarket and got in the car. Reclining the seat, he closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

Sumika is dead. I don't have anything to fear now, do I?

The image of Kasumi waving at him behind the train window arose behind his eyelids.

Ogami. I was happy to meet you after so long. Well then, I hope to see you again sometime.

Instantly, he could feel his heart stirring - and becoming fragile.

It would seem she'd broken through all the defenses I'd built up over these long years in a single instant.

But there's no need to be afraid of her. I'll leave the Town of Sakura, never to come back, and my relations with her will end here.

I should get back to the apartment quickly and resume my work, he thought. These days, it's me who's in the business of deceiving people; I'm a predator who feeds on the pure. It's not a commendable job, but I can do it better than anyone. And while I might not be rich per se, it earns me a decent income, and I live leisurely without having to break a sweat.

When I get home, I'll take a shower, have a little more whiskey than usual, sleep soundly, and tackle work with a renewed vigor starting tomorrow. Setting his heart on this, Ogami stepped on the gas pedal, and left the Town of Sakura behind.

By the time he got back to the apartment, dawn was beginning to break. Dragging along his exhausted body, he ducked through the entrance door, stuffed a piled-up bundle of mail from his mailbox under one arm, and headed back to his room.

As he sunk his body into the living room sofa drinking whiskey, and the soft morning sun began to shine in, he noticed an envelope with an unfamiliar color among the mail he'd tossed onto the floor. It was a large, light-pink envelope that brought to mind washi paper, and "Important" was written in red on the front.

Right now, there couldn't exist anything more important to me than Sumika's death. Despite thinking this, he had a look at it anyway. Inside the envelope was a booklet and a few documents.

The heading on the first document read: "Notification of Prompter Selection."

We are writing to inform you that after strict examination, you have been selected as a prompter.

In the center of the notice was a thick black rectangle, and Ogami's vision was drawn toward it.

Inside that rectangle was the name "Kasumi Takasago."

*

The following week, Ogami stood once more in the Town of Sakura to which he'd expected to never return. This time, he had no need to park at the supermarket. The day before, he'd taken care of the paperwork to move into that old wooden apartment building on the edge of town.

For at least the next few months, he would be living in that apartment. Spring wouldn't come to the town for another two months, so the harsh cold would continue until the end of March. Considering that, he probably should have chosen someplace better to live, but when he made the decision to return, he prioritized getting a room in that apartment above all else. No other options came to mind.

Staying at his parents' house for a while was also a possibility, but he desired a solitary place where he wouldn't be distracted to serve as his base of operations. Living with his parents would mean being constantly exposed to people who knew his old weaknesses, and that would be a major impediment to acting out the role of a brand new person as Kasumi's prompter. There was also the issue of his old house being too physically close to Kasumi's. When building favorable relationships with others, excessive closeness can often do more harm than good. In that respect, the old apartment was in good position relative to her house.

After carrying a suitcase full of clothes and daily necessities into his room and checking that there were no problems with the electricity or water, he went to the home improvement store and assembled the bare minimum of furniture. After carrying in a futon, a refrigerator, an oil heater, and a fold-up table, that alone had filled up his living space.

Oh well, Ogami thought. Compared to the first room he rented after high school, at least this one had the major benefit of having a shower. That place felt more accurate to refer to as a prison cell than a residence.

After preparing everything for his life in the Town of Sakura, Ogami went on a walk to the train station. It was around the time Kasumi would get home from school. He'd intended to wait in the station building, but the train seemingly arrived sooner than expected, and he spotted Kasumi before the station even came into view. When he raised up his hand, Kasumi noticed him right away and ran over.

Kasumi slipped in front of Ogami and started to fall, but Ogami grabbed her arm firmly. Despite the heavy coat she was wearing, her body felt worryingly light.

"Thank you very much," Kasumi said with an embarrassed laugh.

Ogami found himself subconsciously searching her voice, expressions, and actions for signs of putting on a performance. Despite knowing there was not a single reason for her to be acting.

"It's been a week," Kasumi remarked in a lively voice. "I wondered if you'd already left."

"Circumstances changed. I decided I'd stay in this town a while. So I wanted to come greet you."

"I see. You know, I kind of had that feeling."

"You had a feeling?"

"Yes. And I also thought, it'd be nice if I was right."

"Why did you think I'd stay in town?"

"Err..." She hesitated a little. "Um, could it be you want to look into my sister a little more?"

For a moment, Ogami was at a loss for how to reply. He figured she would ask about the reason for his stay, and he'd talk his way through it. But if she was going to provide that for him, no way would he pass it up.

"Yeah. I actually -"

But before he could speak, Kasumi cut him off in a low voice.

"You also felt something was off about my sister's suicide, didn't you?"

Endeavoring not to let his surprise show on his face, Ogami questioned her back. "What are your thoughts?"

"Well..." After a short silence, she began to speak, choosing her words carefully. "It's true my sister was an emotionally unstable person, but she was also conscious of that fact. It was sort of like she could force a resolution to the problems that arose from her frail heart by way of her intelligence. She'd give herself counseling, in a way. And that really did work for her for a long time. For both good and ill, she tended to keep things inside, so even if she had a problem she couldn't handle by herself, she wouldn't lash out at others, but take the time to confront it. I respected that about her. Yet a few months before her death, she started attacking those around her, seeming like a totally different person. Isn't it only natural for me to think that there was something abnormal that happened to her?" After saying this all at once, she concluded, attentive to Ogami's reaction: "Wasn't it thoughts like that which brought you back here, Ogami?"

"I can't say anything for sure just yet," Ogami replied. "It's just, I want to ask all sorts of people about your sister. You, of course, but also people she was friends with. I know it might be pointless, but it's seeming like I can't be satisfied unless I do that. So I want your assistance."

"As long as it's no trouble for you," Ogami tacked on at the end. But he knew from the start that she would accept. That's what him being chosen as a Sakura meant. What Sumika and Kujirai had been to Ogami, now Ogami was to Kasumi.

"Oh, no, no trouble at all!" Kasumi hastily shook her head. "Just tell me if there's anything I can do. And to tell the truth, there's lots I want to ask you as well. So whatever your reasons, I'm glad you're staying in town."

"Thanks," Ogami said. A bit later, he'd realize that his tone was somewhat similar to Sumika and Kujirai's.

Seems like I'm adopting to the role of a Sakura already.

He had spent all seven years since his middle school graduation trying to get away from Sakura. By spurning all affection and good will and not showing anyone weakness, he thoroughly removed any gaps for a prompter to wedge themselves in. He protected himself by suspecting that anyone being kind to him, without exception, was a prompter. He did research into how the System detected suicide risk, and sought out ways to put on the guise of a healthy mind. (He even considered living without a Handcuff, but figured that might just further draw the System's attention.)

However, he hadn't even dreamed that he would one day become a prompter himself. The shock brought by that light-pink envelope had been equal to, if not greater than, that of Sumika's death.

Even Ogami himself didn't know why a person like him had been chosen to be Kasumi's Sakura. She had only the slightest familiarity with him; he should have been nobody beyond "her sister's friend." Surely there were plenty of candidates who were closer with her. And yet why had he been chosen?

Ogami theorized that perhaps the nature of her problems was such that they were harder to deal with the closer you were. Some problems are like that, certainly. So maybe she had issues that were hard to talk about except with someone who just barely rose above "I don't know them." If a mandatory requirement for Kasumi Takasago's Sakura was a lack of intimacy, all he could say was, ah, I can see how I'm suited.

Another possibility: maybe she has a misunderstanding about who I am. Maybe Sumika pretended to be fond of me even in private to maintain the consistency of her Sakura act, and young Kasumi took that at face value, marking me into her heart as a sort of big brother figure alongside her sister.

If you tried to force an explanation, there are also kinds you could make sound plausible. But in reality, things probably weren't that simple. The computations the System's advanced intellect performs to select Sakura likely can't be understood by a human brain. Even if you got it to explain everything neatly from step one, you'd probably just be at a loss.

The same thing could be said of the processes that judged Kasumi to be at high risk of suicide. It's fair to think her sister's suicide was an influence, but the System doesn't necessarily think the same way humans do.

The one and only thing Ogami knew right now was that he had been chosen as Kasumi Takasago's Sakura.

What did that mean to him?

For instance, via this role, he could rescue a girl akin to "another Sumika" from the threat of suicide. Or instead, he could gain the trust of a girl akin to "another Sumika" to then betray it, making her experience the same pain he had.

A pseudo-revenge. Needless to say, there'd be no meaning to it. Kasumi wasn't Sumika. Getting revenge on her wouldn't prove anything. Not only that, it would mean putting himself on the same level as the people he had detested the most.

Yet a woman spoke, a faceless voice. What are you so afraid of?

The only way I can conquer that fear is by using Kasumi Takasago. Ogami was convinced of this. Although she was sinless, by carrying out this ritual, time could finally resume for me after it stopped that winter seven years ago.

It'll be simple. I'm a skilled Sakura who's deceived countless people before becoming Kasumi's. I've dealt with plenty of young women, even. Going from text-only communication to meeting face-to-face would change the flavor a bit, but my target is a girl not even age 20, and as a bonus, I've got the System's approval. Even if I'm not able to work miracles like Sumika and Kujirai, I'm confident I can do much better than your average Sakura.

I'll get revenge, with Kasumi Takasago standing in for Sumika. That must be what I've come back to this town to do, Ogami thought.

He didn't care one bit what happened to her after that.

On the way back, Kasumi asked Ogami if he'd like to look at her sister's room.

"You won't have to worry about bumping into my parents. I'm by myself tonight."

"Are they on a trip or something?", Ogami asked.

"No. Since my sister died, both my mother and father have been doing a lot of volunteer work. For suicide prevention, you see. You know, talking with people about their troubles over the phone. Apparently a lot of people who need support like that call late at night. So the real work begins after everyone's gone to sleep."

How ironic is that, Ogami thought to himself. As a result of them nobly volunteering to prevent more tragedies like the one that befell their daughter, they were going to overlook the danger their other daughter was in.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't unreasonable. As far as he could tell just having a normal chat with her, Kasumi didn't seem at all like someone who would kill herself.

"You must get lonely always being left by yourself."

"It is lonely. That's why I'm bringing you home."

Ogami was able to crack a natural smile at her joke. He felt a bit like he was overworking his underused face muscles, but he'd get used to it soon. Because he'd had that sort of smile around Sumika all the time back then.

As they neared Kasumi's house, Ogami nonchalantly glanced around. If any neighbors noticed his return and brought it up to his parents, it would be troublesome. But there was no sign of anyone nearby. Aside from their footsteps crunching into the snow, he didn't even hear any noises worth mentioning as noises.

Kasumi opened the door and turned on the lights inside. The entryway was more cramped than not, yet had a nice clean atmosphere; Ogami had seen this far into the house many times in the past.

But once he removed his shoes and took a step down the hallway, that was unknown territory. Sumika had never invited him beyond this point back then.

Immediately after climbing the dark stairs, there was a room, which Kasumi guided him into. He knew that it was Sumika's former room without having to be told. Because she had sometimes called to Ogami while poking her head out of that room's window.

It was a room you could believe a mature girl lived in, with a unified palette of calm colors. Everything was orderly, as if it had all been cleaned just last night. Atop a rug colored a deep blue in the center was a small table and a floor chair, where Ogami was made to sit. After turning on the heater, Kasumi said she would make him coffee and left the room.

For a while, Ogami looked up at the blue-gray pendant light hanging from the ceiling, having nothing else to do. He heard a dog elsewhere in the housing district give a quick bark twice, but even that was quickly swallowed up by silence. The heater began emitting warm air, and the room was filled with a nostalgic scent, a mix of winter air and oil.

I'm in a place that was once holy ground to me, Ogami mused. But that reality didn't elicit any form of interest from him. If the girl who had made these grounds holy were there, well, of course that would change things. But she had long since left this room, and now her sister was carrying on with a different life. Sumika's presence was now little more than a lingering scent.

Soon, Kasumi returned. Putting mugs of coffee on the table, she sat cross-legged across from Ogami. Asking if he needed sugar or milk, Ogami replied that he did not. She didn't put anything in her coffee either, and took just a sip before putting it back on the table.

Ogami broke the ice. "Did your sister live on her own after graduating high school?"

"Yes, though her college was close enough to commute from here. Our parents half-forced her to start living on her own, knowing her tendency to seclude herself. She came back here every weekend without fail, and even I often visited her at her apartment, so it didn't especially feel like she was living alone."

Kasumi then told him the name of the college Sumika was going to. It was just about the best one you could attend that was within commuting distance of the Town of Sakura.

"Of course, living independently didn't do much to improve my sister's introverted nature. Perhaps you could even say it worsened, without her having to mind her family being around. But she gained more opportunities to interact with others when she took up acting around autumn of her first year, and acquired some level of interest in the outside world."

"Acting?", Ogami repeated back to her on impulse.

"Yes, I'm sure anyone who knows my sister would be surprised," Kasumi said with a slight smile. "It seemed to me that ever since she started going to college, she had more time than she knew what to do with. I suggested that she try joining a club or something, but she didn't appear to show interest in any activities. I imagine you're aware, Ogami, but she was a somewhat dull person, with no hobbies to speak of. But I felt that there had to be at least one thing she liked, and she simply wasn't aware what it was. So, hoping to find a way of motivating her, I asked if there was anything she'd particularly enjoyed doing in the past. And she told me an anecdote from middle school. She spoke nostalgically about doing a play for the culture festival, and happening to end up with an important role, and it being rather fun for her."

This came as a surprise to Ogami. He clearly remembered Kujirai having a passion for acting, but he'd seen Sumika as carrying out her role more disinterestedly.

"I promptly suggested she try joining an acting club in that case. But she shook her head, saying with disappointment that said club didn't seem like it would agree with her. Apparently, she had already gone and observed the acting club at her college. So I invited her to look for active acting troupes nearby. Though of course, at that point my goal was just to get her out of her shell, so I wasn't actually thinking she should join an acting troupe."

"Which is to say, Sumika was the eager one?"

"That's correct. As we gathered information about acting troupes, she began showing surprising reactions. She zealously watched videos that troupes had put online, and openly spoke her thoughts about what seemed appealing or worrying about each troupe. She truly hadn't shown that much open interest in something in a very long time. And in the end, she auditioned for a troupe known for their high level of talent, and got accepted in one try."

After breathlessly saying all this, Kasumi drank some coffee to moisten her throat.

"Your sister," said Ogami, "was always skilled at acting."

"That's right," Kasumi said, beaming as if she herself had been complimented. Of course, she didn't pick up on the sarcasm behind Ogami's words. "Even after joining the troupe, she seemed to largely prefer behind-the-scenes work, yet her talents were highly regarded even by long-time members. She didn't like to go out in front of people by nature, so up to the end, she never pushed for a starring role."

"But she got on well with those around her?"

"Yes. As she continued working with the troupe, she slowly regained some extroversion. Of course, that was limited to dealing with people in the troupe, but it was major progress for her. Our parents were openly delighted. Although personally speaking, I felt a bit of sadness as well. Since I'd practically had my sister to myself until then."

"You were always friendly with your sister, huh."

"Even if perhaps it was a one-sided attachment," she remarked with a lonesome tone. "My very suggestion to join an acting troupe came from my desire to bring back the best of my sister. But the result was that she became distanced from me bit by bit."

"As if the troupe was taking your sister away, right?"

"But it was me who recommended it, after all, so I just reaped what I sowed. That said, if it had just stopped at that, I could've looked at it as a happily-ending story of sisters becoming independent."

Kasumi took a pause there.

"The problem was that the relationships between my sister and the troupe members advanced faster, and became deeper and more complex, than I could have ever imagined. Eventually, she found herself in a vortex of serious trouble. No, not just in a vortex..."

Kasumi fell silent, staring at her hands as if lost in thought.

"I can't exactly speak about the rest myself. Or maybe more accurately, there wouldn't be much point if it came out of my mouth. Suffice to say, there were messes within the troupe. But as of now, it's unclear whether they were related to my sister's death. The end."

It was an oddly half-baked ending. Ogami felt as if the very heart of what she'd been telling him was within that abridged section. But he wanted to avoid damaging her impression of him by forcing her to talk about something she didn't want to. On top of that, he didn't actually have that big an interest.

"Thank you. I'll ask your sister's other acquaintances about the rest."

"I think that would be best," Kasumi agreed, sounding relieved. "I'll contact the troupe leader tomorrow. That would probably get you the most information about their internal affairs. I'll also try speaking with the troupe members who were close with my sister."

"That's a big help. Would it be okay if I got your contact info, too?"

"Mine? Yes, gladly."

Kasumi held out the Handcuff on her wrist toward Ogami. Ogami did the same, and with a light touch, they exchanged contact information.

After coming down the stairs and returning to the entryway, Kasumi spoke.

"Your house is just nearby, right? I'll escort you there."

Ogami shook his head. "Actually, because of some slight circumstances, my parents don't even know I've come back. I'm renting a nearby apartment for now."

He then verbally explained where the apartment was. That apartment had apparently left an impression on Kasumi as well, as she understood immediately from his simple description. She didn't inquire at all into the so-called "slight circumstances."

"And you're staying there alone?"

"Of course."

"Then is it all right if I come visit sometime?"

"It's a cramped, cold, and empty room, but if you don't mind that, you're welcome to."

"I'm glad," said Kasumi. "I have quite some time on my hands until graduation. It's boring to sit around the house, and I don't like school much either. Since I can't go visit my sister in her apartment anymore, I was thinking it might be nice to have a refuge to take its place."

"You know, it might be an excellent place for a refuge."

"I look forward to it. I'll contact you once I get in touch with the troupe leader."

Ogami thanked her again and left Kasumi's house. Until the moment the door shut, she was giving a little wave with her hand near her shoulder.

After passing the gate, Ogami turned around and looked up toward the window of Kasumi's room. The curtains were closed, but he saw a faint light leaking out.

The plan's going almost too well, Ogami thought. It feels like I've gotten way closer to Kasumi in just these scant few hours. We were alike in the sense of having an unparalleled attachment to Sumika, so if I could make good use of that commonality, I might be able to easily win her trust. Just by pretending to seek the truth behind Sumika's suicide, not even doing anything special, I'd secured a connection with Kasumi. At this rate, maybe I'd achieve my goal and be back to life as usual in a month.

Talk about an easy-to-handle target.

I'll bet that's how she saw me back then, too.

[+]

5

The factors that cause Sakura Delusion to sprout are various. Some, like Ogami, succumb to suspicion because of the involvement of actual prompters, while others are possessed by the delusion from the day they learn the prompter system exists. Some end up that way due to special circumstances, and some mistake people who were just drawn in by their charms as Sakura. In any event, always fearing the threat of lurking Sakura much like Ogami, they live isolated lives that keep others as a distance.

A few years ago, Ogami had binge-read writings from sufferers of the delusion. He thought maybe they would contain clues to help resolve his own problems. But he could learn nothing at all from them. Those who were successful in shaking free of Sakura Delusion either had a light case to begin with, or became taken by some other delusion.

As he continued reading their writings, he noticed a common dilemma that those with Sakura Delusion faced. To put it simply: just because a person is afraid of other people doesn't mean they no longer need others.

Rather, the majority could be said to have an above-average need for others. If you looked at groups created by sufferers of Sakura Delusion, like "Victims of the Prompter System" or "Blossom-Killers Anonymous," that was immediately obvious. In places like that, they would become shockingly social. They became desperate to fill the gap left by the social opportunities they missed, and would continue to miss. Here is where they chose to spend the affection and kindness they had nothing else to do with.

A strong solidarity between patients with light symptoms could even progress into a friendly or romantic relationship. Yet unfortunately, these wouldn't last long. People who have been alone for a long time can't help but have unreasonable expectations of other people. And upon actually getting a friend or lover, they're faced with intense disappointment. The thing I'd been dreaming about all this time - was this all it was?

On the other hand, severe cases are such bundles of distrust that they'll even see Sakura among gatherings of Sakura Delusion sufferers. Are these people surrounding me not actually victims of Sakura, but themselves Sakura who are pretending to have it to encourage me? Maybe such doubly-blooming deceptions, Sakura with the goal of resolving Sakura Delusion, have already been placed around without me knowing. And so on. In short, regardless of the severity of your symptoms, the curse inflicted by Sakura always hangs over you.

That being said, it surprisingly didn't always mean that these people had turned to despair. They were able to manage their isolation well through alternate methods. Isolation wasn't something exclusive to Sakura Delusion, after all. It had been with them since long prior.

So then, what about the Sakura? After the people chosen as prompters by the System are freed from their role, are they able to return to a normal life as if nothing had happened?

To tell the truth, some do experience prolonged after-effects of their own from their distorted relationships. At least a few, exhausted by having to care for someone at a high risk of suicide, become biased toward people at risk of suicide in general. Some even purposefully keep their distance from others in hopes of never being chosen as a Sakura again.

But taken as a whole, most ex-Sakura see the experience positively. Some even hope to become someone else's Sakura. Naturally, you don't typically get tons of people near you with a high risk of suicide, so the chances they'll be selected as Sakura again are near-zero. So to fulfill their unsatisfied desires, they devote themselves to positions that are as close to being a Sakura as they can get. Paths like volunteering for human services, becoming a counselor, or working with a suicide prevention hotline.

You could imagine that they were chosen as Sakura because they had such qualities to begin with, but you could also take a different perspective. Namely, that in the course of continuing to perform as Sakura, they could then only live in a Sakura-like way. They always had to be the ones giving, the ones helping, the ones taking things on, or they wouldn't be satisfied. Their pride could no longer bear being the one receiving, or being helped, or having things taken on for them.

That in itself wasn't always a bad thing. It caused them no harm, at least, and even they would see themselves as satisfied. But in any event, it might be good to keep in mind that some have their lives driven mad on the Sakura side, too. And that, had there not been someone at risk of suicide, they wouldn't have had to become a Sakura, either.

The days went by with Ogami just waiting in the old apartment for Kasumi to contact him. To ensure he could take action immediately once he had an appointment with this "troupe leader," Ogami wouldn't take a single step outside of the Town of Sakura. It was a boring town, but he'd built up a tolerance to its boredom from growing up there.

He also had the option of fabricating reasons to go visit Kasumi so he could deepen their friendship. But he felt their reunion was still all too recent, and that making a rapid approach at this stage would have the opposite effect. He'd learned from his experience on matchmaking apps that such impatience could be fatal. For the time being, doing nothing seemed like the best move.

The level of comfort in the old apartment was awful, fully in line with his expectations. He bought a small oil heater, but no matter how high he raised the temperature setting, it only heated up the room right up to the cusp of "warm." It's just like Kujirai's garage, Ogami thought. Even the warmth the heater provided wasn't sufficient there.

It snowed in town every other day. It was a charmless snow fitting for February, piling up on everything from guard rails to power lines. The apartment roof was covered in a thick snow mixed with ice, and many thick, pointed icicles hung down from the edges. Ogami remarked upon how impressive it was that the roof didn't collapse every time he went in or out.

When he felt like it, he would clear the snow outside the apartment using a snow-shovel from the communal area. It was made of aluminum, with a red handle that could stand out even amid snow. People in the neighborhood would put shoveled snow onto a snow scoop and carry it off. So it seemed there was a snow "dump" of sorts somewhere, but even if he'd known where it was, he lacked the tools to bring it there. So he piled up the snow in the corner of the site, creating a mountain of snow that could make a fine igloo.

There were other residents besides Ogami at the apartment, of course, but they were docile, as if hibernating for the winter. They lived quiet lives, aiming not to make household noises or encounter the other residents. If he sat still in his room at night, he could sometimes hear a creaky floor through the wall, and that finally gave him the sense that it wasn't just him in these apartments.

There was no room for a washing machine in the room, so when he ran out of changes of clothes, he went to a small laundromat in the neighborhood. Listening to the washing machines spin in the middle of the night felt like being among the workings of an old clock tower, and it calmed his heart. Not like he'd even been inside a clock tower, of course, so it was no more than his imagination.

Early in the morning that day, he left the apartment to head for a Mental Health and Welfare Center in the prefecture. Though known for being in an inconvenient location, it was less than a 30-minute drive from Ogami's apartment.

The building had a coloration that brought to mind a dull, cloudy winter sky. It was a tidy facility that indeed seemed to align with words like "mental health" and "welfare." But stepping inside, he found it much more aged than the impression the exterior had given. Even if every inch was kept clean, the entire building had an air of being worn down.

There was still time before the prompter training began. Ogami went outside and sat on a bench to eat a sandwich from the convenience store. He sat there for about ten minutes, yet didn't see a single person enter or leave the building in that time. Perhaps he would be receiving training all on his own.

But when he entered the training room five minutes before the starting time, he found about a dozen men and women sitting there. The majority were young, with the oldest man seeming like he was 30 at best. There was even a high school boy in uniform, but indeed, no middle schoolers that he could see. Cases like Sumika and Kujirai must have been rare after all, Ogami thought as he sat in his assigned seat. And he waited for the teacher to arrive.

Ever since he began working as a Sakura on matchmaking apps, he had realized over and over just how outstanding Sumika and Kujirai had been as Sakura. As he improved, he saw that his way of speaking (albeit just through text messages) and choice of words were becoming more and more similar to those two. By their early teens, they had already picked up the art of precisely hitting people's tender parts, the weak spots they were unable to reinforce. Not only that, but skillful acting chops that kept lies from seeming like lies.

Part of him felt like he could hardly be blamed for not seeing through Sumika's act. When the girl he'd secretly yearned for gently spoke to him while he was being ostracized in the classroom, of course he wouldn't be able to keep his cool.

But Kujirai was different. Compared to Sumika coming in with the advantage of Ogami liking her, Kujirai was saddled with many handicaps. Despite having once earned Ogami's resentment, he overcame that to gain his trust.

Still, maybe happenstance played a big part there, Ogami considered. Sure, Kujirai had been entirely consciously performing as a friend that would get on well with me. No mistaking that. But you couldn't purposefully aim to do something like using the same movie's CD case as a hiding spot.

Likely there had been things that genuinely overlapped between us. But whether Kujirai would have developed a real friendship with me if he weren't my Sakura is an entirely different question. Our common points, most likely, would just be things about ourselves that we hated to see in others.

The training was split into a morning and afternoon section, with the morning part being nothing but watching a video about prompter training. The video had nothing special to say, just a lot of things you'd already know with a bit of research into prompters. The general attitude to take when dealing with high-risk people. Common mistakes. Handling examples.

The other trainees, too, watched the video earnestly for the first hour, but eventually started losing focus and glancing around, with some even falling asleep. That's how boring it was. You couldn't imagine that someone who needed to be explicitly taught these fundamentals to put them into practice would be chosen as a prompter in the first place. But they must have felt they had to cover their bases.

There was a two-and-a-half-hour break between the morning and afternoon sessions. After eating at the cafeteria, Ogami headed for the smoking area outside. It felt unusual that there was a smoking area at a facility like this, but maybe it being this kind of facility meant there would be people who needed to smoke. After finishing his cigarette, he sat on a nearby bench and mindlessly felt the breeze.

As there weren't any places to kill time close to the facility, he just continued to smoke there. Two and a half hours seemed a bit too long for a break. Maybe the other trainees were using this time to mingle with each other. Or maybe they were enthusiastically going back over the video, reflecting upon the weight of the mission they had been assigned.

If that was the expectation they'd planned this break with, then I was completely flying in the face of that hope. I felt bad, yet the responsibility surely didn't lay with me, but with the System who's chosen the likes of me as a prompter.

For the afternoon portion, they were made to practice. With the lesson from the morning in mind, they would actually talk with people at high risk of suicide. Of course, it wasn't being done with real human beings. It was a mock exercise using a simulator. The high-risk individual on the monitor would have a talk with you, and the appropriateness of your response was judged. Of course, it's not like there was a penalty for repeated inappropriate responses.

"Rather, approach it with a sense of getting out all your mistakes while you can," the training staff said. "Because failures here can always be taken back."

Over the following two hours, Ogami met with nine high-risk individuals. He was judged to have given an "inappropriate response" for five of them. If that implied a failure to prevent their suicide, it meant he had managed to kill five people in two hours. Talk about efficiency.

Ogami felt he had given safe responses for all nine. At the very least, he didn't do anything that went against what they'd been taught in the morning. They'd probably set the difficulty to be unreasonably high. The purpose of the training was to impress upon you the difficulty of preventing suicide, so maybe they made it such that even a professional counselor wouldn't be able to save them all. Either that, or the simulator was more advanced than Ogami expected, and it saw through to his innermost lack of desire to stop their suicides.

Taking off his headphones after finishing up the ninth meeting, he realized he was now alone in the practice room. The silence pierced his ears the way cold pierces your skin when taking off a heavy coat. It seemed the other trainees had already finished and moved elsewhere.

Ogami still had a tenth person to go.

Putting the headphones back on, he resumed the simulation on the device.

The last one was a boy. He was around 14 years old, and had a gloomy expression.

The boy didn't make eye contact with Ogami, seeming dead-set on not opening his mouth. Maybe the idea was that he hadn't come to talk of his own will, but rather someone else brought him here.

He figured he should be the one to speak, but for some reason, he couldn't get a word out.

The test of endurance lasted nearly five minutes. The boy was the one who cracked first.

"I think there's been some kind of mistake," said the boy. "I'm not thinking about dying or anything, and I'm having fun every day..."

That's what I thought too, Ogami said.

But maybe, just maybe, you're standing on the edge of a cliff without even realizing it.

Maybe everything you see before you is a sham, and the world might turn on its head tomorrow.

You ought to prepare yourself for that eventuality.

The boy stared into Ogami's eyes silently for a long time.

Eventually, the boy vanished from the screen, and the message "inappropriate response" was displayed.

Past noon the following day, he got a call from Kasumi.

"I finally got in contact with the troupe leader. Sorry it's sudden, but are you available this evening?"

"I'm always available," Ogami answered.

"Good. Then I'll let the leader know," Kasumi said. "I'm sorry it took so long. It seems there's lots of work to be done with the dissolution of the troupe."

"Dissolution?"

"Oh, that's right, I never mentioned. They're breaking up. The troupe my sister was in."

Ogami thought for a bit, then asked: "Is that somehow connected to your sister?"

"That's part of it. It's just... I think it'd be faster to ask the troupe leader for the details in person."

"I see." Ogami judged that he shouldn't pursue that any further. "So, what should I do now?"

"I'll have you head for their rehearsal hall. It's less than an hour from your apartment."

Kasumi explained the route to the rehearsal hall. When you grew up in the same town, things like this could be talked out quickly.

"They renovated an old warehouse for it. There aren't any other buildings nearby, so you should be able to spot it easily."

Ogami made out some faint voices in the background of the call. They all sounded young and lively.

"Are you calling from school?"

"Yes. It's my lunch break," Kasumi said in a hushed tone. "It feels strange to be talking to someone unrelated to school while I'm at school."

"I was having similar thoughts. Like I'm up to something nefarious."

"Yes, nefarious," she repeated, then giggled to herself.

"By the way, what's the troupe leader's name?"

There was silence for a while. Ogami heard a sound that seemed to be the first bell.

"I'm sorry, I've forgotten. My sister always just said "troupe leader," you see."

"Ah, that's fine."

"Oh, but I remember your name, Ogami. It's Ogami, right?"

"Good on you for remembering."

"That's a sign of our friendship."

"Huh."

"Also, I'm terribly sorry, but I can't accompany you this time."

"Still busy with school?"

"No, it's nothing like that. But given of the nature of the conversation, isn't it better that a relative of hers not be there?"

It was a good point. If a relative of a suicide victim were there, they'd probably only be able to bring up harmless topics.

"So I'll have you go by yourself this time. Please call me when you're done talking. I don't mind even if it's late at night."

"Sure."

"It's going to be chilly again tonight, so please keep warm. Well, goodbye."

With that, she hung up.

The clock had only just hit 2 PM. What preparations should he be making in this span of time? Should he get his questions in order, or look more into the troupe? Though of course, even if he skimped on preparations and wasn't able to get anything major out of this, it was no issue. He didn't have that much interest in the truth of Sumika's death. He was just using her death for the sake of building a good fake relationship with Kasumi.

Ultimately, he just spaced out until the appointed time. Remembering how Kasumi said she'd come visit sometime soon, he went and cleaned up, but even that took fewer than ten minutes.

I have to say though, thought Ogami, does she have no sense of wariness? Does she understand what it means to visit the room of a man living on his own? Thinking about it, her letting me into her room at night while her parents weren't around was also pretty dubious. Does she trust a friend of her sister just that much, or is she making light of me? Or else, is visiting a man's house a common occurrence for her?

At any rate, it was beyond Ogami's understanding as a man whose life had no notion of friendship.

The warehouse being used as a rehearsal hall was next to railroad tracks at the end of a path through a field. The entrance door was on the side of the building, with the front having a lowered rusty shutter. Its structure brought to mind equipment storage for a fire brigade, a common sight in rural areas. Maybe that's what it had actually been once.

An old pickup truck was parked in front of the warehouse. There were many footprints going back and forth between the truck and the warehouse. Loaded onto the back was a cluttered pile of things like folding chairs, pipes, and plywood.

Ogami leaned against the truck bed and lit a cigarette. Across the train tracks were a sprawling number of conifers covered in snow. A horn sounded in the distance, and after some time, a train passed behind the warehouse. Once it left, the sense of stillness became stronger yet. It wasn't like there was no sound at all, but it felt like the snow was covering up not only the terrain, but the noise as well.

After finishing a cigarette, Ogami walked alongside the footprints toward the warehouse. Just then, the door opened, and a man came out carrying a cardboard box and holding open the door with his leg. Perhaps having been working in darkness, the man narrowed his eyes for a bit as if dazed by the light. Seeing no sign of anyone else around, Ogami judged that he must have been the "troupe leader."

When Ogami greeted him and gave his name, the leader nodded with understanding.

"Come inside. I'll leave this here."

Ogami shook the snow off his boots in front of the door, then went inside the warehouse. It was dark, and his eyes took a few seconds to adjust. The light coming through the window illuminated the concrete floor in a blurry rectangular area. The only things left inside were cardboard boxes, so he could find nothing that indicated it having been a rehearsal hall. He tried to imagine Sumika working on rehearsals for a play here, but found himself struggling.

The leader came back quickly. He brought two folding chairs from the truck and sat them across from each other. The two chairs sitting in the center of a basically empty warehouse was something of a curious sight.

"Sorry it's so cold. Disposed of the heater yesterday."

The leader was tall and slender, with hair dyed a bright color, but Ogami didn't sense any of the aggressiveness one might expect from such an appearance. He was probably somewhere around 30. The cracked sheepskin jacket he wore over his sweatshirt had a musty leather smell that reached Ogami even at a distance.

"The work's been going kinda slow," the leader explained, gesturing with his chin at the boxes scattered around the warehouse. "Sorry, but hold on just a li'l longer. I'll be done soon."

"I can help," Ogami offered. He had nothing else to do.

"Oh yeah? I'd appreciate it."

The leader smiled, as if that had been his aim from the start.

The two worked together to clean up the cardboard boxes. Ogami carried them out to the truck, and the leader loaded them onto the truck bed. Quickly warming up from the work, Ogami took off his jacket. These sorts of day-laborer jobs had been his primary work before he started as a chat operator, so he was accustomed.

Moving his body didn't feel so bad. He didn't have to think about anything but what was in front of him.

"Those guys always say they're busy and won't even come help." The leader sometimes stopped to grumble about the troupe members. "I've had'ta find time between work to do this too, y'know. Had to clean up pretty much this whole place myself. Driving a beat-up old truck to and fro down snowy roads. What're they so busy with, anyway? They had nothin' to do before, meeting here and making a ruckus. But then the second it's decided we're dissolving the troupe, they suddenly act like they're serious adults with busy jobs. Even the founding members. Heartless, I tell ya. Though yeah, I guess it might be hard to face each other now..."

In spite of his rough tone, he didn't appear to be genuinely angry. Maybe that anger was a thing of the past for him, and he was just dragging it back out to fill space.

By the time everything on the bed was tied in place with rope and they took a break from the cleanup, it had become completely dark outside. You could see the moon through the clouds that night - a rare treat.

The leader boiled water using a portable stove and a little kettle, then made some instant coffee. The two drank it while sitting on the edge of the truck bed. Seeing the leader light a cigarette, Ogami removed his Handcuff and took out one of his own. He struck the flint in his lighter, and the bright spark in the center of his vision briefly dazed him.

"Now then, it was about Sumika, right?" The leader placed the paper coffee cup on the side of the truck bed and rubbed his hands together for warmth. "I got the gist from her sister. Looking into the truth behind her suicide?"

"It's nothing as major as that. I just wanted to ask you about it."

"What was your relationship with that woman?"

"Just a friend," Ogami answered, tapping his cigarette to drop some ash to the ground. "No, I guess a plain old friend wouldn't have come this far. I'll just say we had a bit of a complex relationship."

The leader nodded. "I'm not sure Sumika had anyone who was "just a friend," honestly. If there was anybody who could avoid having special feelings about that woman, they'd have to be a saint or something."

"Meaning you had special feelings toward Sumika, too?"

"She ruined my troupe. 'Course I've got thoughts."

"Sumika ruined the troupe?"

"Most of the members'll back me up on that opinion."

Come to think of it, Kasumi had alluded to trouble within the troupe.

Eventually, she found herself in a vortex of serious trouble. No, not just in a vortex...

Could that mean she had been the very cause of said vortex?

"I want to know more about that, too," Ogami insisted.

"I wouldn't mind telling you," the leader began, "but if you still have any fondness for Sumika Takasago, I recommend you leave without listening to another word. 'Cause I'm sure it'll leave you with a bad taste."

"I can accept that."

"Guess you would," the leader said, breathing out smoke.

"You want the roundabout version, or the short version?"

"I might as well hear the roundabout one."

"Good," he said. "I'm lousy at summarizing stories."

*

One of the troupe leader's classmates in high school was a person who wanted to die. His name was Kayaba. If Kayaba hadn't been in his class, and hadn't wanted to die, the troupe leader wouldn't have become a troupe leader, likely taking a different path in life.

Of course, now that the troupe had dissolved, his title was more accurately "ex-troupe leader." And as of now, he hadn't found a title to replace that. Even if he was able to become something else, it would take time to paint over that awareness of himself. For a time, it had carried a far more important weight than the name his parents gave him, even.

Maybe I'll be dragging along the title "ex-troupe leader" for the rest of my life, he sometimes thought. It was a name signifying his meager glory days, and the remnants of his dreams.

The troupe leader received a light-pink envelope in spring his second year of high school. After becoming Kayaba's Sakura, that relationship continued until graduating high school. He didn't know what happened to Kayaba after that. Maybe he was being supported by some new Sakura, maybe he had long since killed himself. It was even possible he himself had wound up as a Sakura.

It had never become clear why Kayaba wanted to die. It wasn't even a sure thing that he actually did want to die. As far as the leader could ascertain, there was nothing in Kayaba's life that meant he had to despair. He looked like an average high school boy in every respect, and even if he wasn't especially fortunate, neither did he seem especially misfortunate.

If there was any cause for alarm, it was that a relative of Kayaba's had killed themselves a few years prior. Even as someone with no knowledge of whether suicide risk had anything to do with genetics, nor familiarity with mental issues, the troupe leader could easily imagine how the act of suicide might be contagious. When someone close to you does something, it instantly becomes an easier "option" to consider for yourself. That is, "if someone tied to me by blood can do it, I see no reason why I couldn't."

The leader wasn't the kind of person who found his own value in helping others. But it was in his nature that if he was going to do something, he had to do it well, so he carried out his duty as a Sakura diligently. He disguised himself skillfully enough that Kayaba thought of him as an unparalleled best friend, and as he polished his acting methods day after day, he even found a game-like enjoyment in it.

In practice, many of the people the System selects as prompters are of this type. Altruism and a spirit of self-sacrifice aren't considered for evaluation (though of course a person with violent tendencies won't be chosen); rather, priority is given to people with high adaptability and stable emotions. Without that sort of tenacity, there would be a risk of them being afflicted by suicidal thoughts themselves.

As he played the role of a second self as a Sakura, the leader learned the depths of what it meant to act. Until then, he hadn't really thought of theater as much more than an extension of kids playing make-believe. But when he pursued this "game" earnestly, it occurred to him that, in a way, all people's lives are being tested. How attentively you've been observing yourself, other people, and the world, and whether you've put serious thought into them, will reliably show in your acting. This game - there's really nothing else like it.

That said, he hadn't imagined by that point that he would genuinely get involved in the world of theater. He was able to find enjoyment in his duty as a Sakura if he looked for it, but it didn't change the fact it was a burden on him. He had plenty of other charming friends, yet he was bound to a boring person who seemed to offer no interest at all. What could he call it but exhausting?

Kayaba had the sorts of average faults an average person does, and there were numerous times the troupe leader got fed up and irritated with him. But even when he was, he had to pretend to be an understanding person and maintain appearances. Gradually, a feeling of hatred for Kayaba grew inside him.

But just before his good graces for Kayaba ran out, the System took action. Judging that the troupe leader alone would be insufficient to keep Kayaba from suicide, a second and third prompter were sent to Kayaba.

At first, he didn't realize this had happened. To the leader, it just looked as if Kayaba had made new friends entirely naturally. He had two of them: Kakimoto was a short guy good with words who was the life of the party, and Usuzumi was a big guy who seemed to take charge of keeping the class in order.

The two quickly hit it off with the troupe leader by way of Kayaba, and the four would often act as one from then on. It thus became rare for the leader and Kayaba to just be by themselves, lessening the burden of being his Sakura. He could count on the other two to keep Kayaba in a good mood, allowing him to stand on the sidelines, nodding along and smiling vaguely.

But ever since that group was established, the troupe leader would sometimes feel that something was off in a way that defied description. This sense of dissonance grew slowly but surely, like unseen sediment in the water. Something's odd about this group. Of course, part of it is that I'm in it as a Sakura, but even subtracting that, there were still unnatural aspects.

Kakimoto and Usuzumi's appearance had been a godsend for the troupe leader, so he'd closed his eyes to questions like what appealed to them about Kayaba, or why they suddenly decided to hang out with Kayaba after the class's relationships had solidified. But after a month had passed, he found himself having to confront those doubts again. For what possible reason did they approach Kayaba?

As he carefully observed the group, the cause of the dissonance slowly became clear. In many cases, it took the form of a bizarre synchronicity. Curious coincidences, namely the three of them sans Kayaba saying almost the same thing as the same time, were happening once every few days. Furthermore, this only happened when the troupe leader was pressed to say something to Kayaba "as his Sakura." To put that more clearly, they synced up only when he went to say words of encouragement or flattery he wasn't really thinking.

As an experiment, he completely abandoned his duty as a Sakura for a few days, leaving Kayaba to the other two, and there were no problems at all. The two of them neatly filled the hole he left.

These guys are way too convenient for me, the troupe leader thought. It's like there are three of me to act as Sakura now, and they'll work in my place.

No, hold on - could that be it exactly?

Were they actually new Sakura, dispatched to help me out?

However, the leader didn't try to directly air his suspicion to the two of them. Even supposing Kakimoto and Usuzumi were Sakura, making that clear to each other would introduce flaws into their performances, he thought. They'd lose the tension of working alone as a Sakura, getting careless and assuming that the others would cover for any mistakes.

Having three actors also triples the risk of the performance being seen through. That was the troupe leader's thinking. Kakimoto and Usuzumi probably had the same idea. Until the day of their high school graduation, the three feigned ignorance and performed as Kayaba's Sakura.

The day after graduation, the leader received another one of those light-pink envelopes, and he was freed from his duty as a prompter. Maybe Kayaba's suicide risk had decreased to a safe level, or maybe the role would be passed on to someone more suitable to match the change in environment. The four members of the group went on to different colleges, and it seemed their relationship would end there.

After graduating, the troupe leader felt liberated. Now I won't have to watch over somebody who wants to die anymore, and I can just get along with people I wanna get along with. That thought alone made his heart feel light.

At first, he viewed his two years as a Sakura as pure exhaustion. But after returning to normal human connections unrelated to Sakura, he had second thoughts. His experience as a Sakura had done wonders for his acting, observation, and above all, his endurance. As a result, by treating his new college environment as a stage, he was able to conduct himself skillfully enough that even he was shocked.

Compared to having to keep pretending to be understanding with Kayaba, this game was simple enough to make him yawn. With just a quick conversation, the troupe leader was able to read what a person subconsciously sought in others, and he learned how to act as their ideal just as quickly. Like a creature that changes color to blend in with its environment, he was creating new selves on the spot.

It wasn't just him who was performing on a daily basis, of course. Everyone did something similar, with the key difference being to what degree. But to him, other people's acting looked astoundingly stiff and clumsy. He hadn't realized back in high school with Kayaba taking his attention, but it looked to him like they didn't even know the basic rules of the game.

Maybe this ability I'm wielding like it's ordinary is actually something really special? It didn't take too long for the troupe leader to start thinking that way. In fact, the moment he was selected as Kayaba's Sakura, the System was acknowledging that he had talent as an actor.

That discovery excited him. Until then, he'd never thought of himself as having talents surpassing anyone else's in any way. He was generally fine, but anything he did was only half-baked, and with no particular weaknesses, he couldn't boast about anything either.

It would be a waste to let this ability rot, the leader thought. And it's not just me. The abilities of those two, who performed as Sakura just as well if not better than me back then, should be put to some use, too.

He called the two of them. And he asked, "I didn't dare bring it up at the time, but you were both Kayaba's Sakura like me, right?" Both Kakimoto and Usuzumi readily admitted it. They had also picked up on the troupe leader being a Sakura, and were themselves realizing the value of their talents after being relieved of their duty.

From then on, the three developed friendly relations without Kayaba. Two months after their reunion, they launched an acting troupe. All three were practically amateurs at theater, but they couldn't think of any other means of utilizing their talents.

The troupe, though started by fumbling around, steadily grew in part thanks to the trio's social talents. Motivation was high, and they were blessed with good luck. They soon became known online, and people even came from outside the prefecture to join. In the end, there were fifteen members including the original trio, but they had all made it through strict auditions to find the best of the best, so for a troupe led by an amateur, they were a superb bunch.

Sumika Takasago was the fifteenth, and last, member of the troupe.

First speaking with Sumika when she came to the rehearsal hall for an audition, then immediately passing her after seeing her performance, the troupe leader was bewildered by both her towering talent and her incongruous lack of presence. Anyone in this field would put stickers saying "look at me" all over their body, but she had none. No matter how immense a talent they had, he couldn't imagine that sort of desire-less person could manage in such a self-asserting place as an acting troupe.

He had no confidence in whether his decision to pass Sumika was correct. That said, it seemed like introducing a foreign substance like her could be a good way to stimulate the other members. He could just watch how it went for a while, and leave later decisions for later.

As he expected, Sumika had a hard time fitting into the troupe. She wasn't necessarily shy, but it seemed like deepening her relations with others was quite low on her list of priorities. The other members didn't treat her with concern nor cruelty, taking a neutral stance of "be here if you want to be, leave if you want to leave." The leader felt fine with that, too. He didn't know what other troupes did, but he thought troupe members becoming too stuck to each other should be avoided if possible. It's best if they're just barely connected by the thin thread that is the stage. Leaving a slight discomfort among the troupe helped maintain a nice tension.

But while the troupe leader wasn't looking, Sumika had suddenly become accepted by the other members. His impression was that rather than her approaching them, they had started to understand the charms she concealed within her. Male members regarded her like "She may fade into the background, but she's actually got a pretty face, and lots of talent," while female members thought "It's hard to tell what she's thinking, but she works hard in practice, and often takes notice of details."

A year, then two years passed, and Sumika had become an irreplaceable part of the troupe. Her presence made the entire troupe turn smoothly. She was just lubricant, not a threat to the job of the gears - this perception, too, was one of the reasons she was accepted. She also had talent and put in plenty of effort, but had shed some essential quality as an actor, making her a lovable junior member.

To sum it up, every single one of them thoroughly misunderstood Sumika. That's what the leader realized, much later. They would all admit it now, no doubt. That she was the best actor in the troupe, the best deceiver, and the most brimming with ambition.

And by the time he realized that, it was too late to do anything.

It happened two and a half years after Sumika joined the troupe.

There had been no advance signs. That day, nearly half the members abruptly skipped rehearsal. He tried calling them, but no one picked up. It was the end of April, and they were preparing for a show next month, so no one should have been skipping rehearsals with no notice at a time like this. He asked the other members if they had any ideas, but they just shook their heads.

The six members who had disappeared were all men. Considering the almost even split of men and women in the troupe, that hardly seemed like a simple coincidence.

Could this be some kind of mutiny?, the leader considered at first. Maybe the six who weren't here were planning to start a new troupe of their own. Most of them were long-time members, including Kakimoto and Usuzumi who had launched it with him. He didn't want to consider it, but he couldn't think of any other reasonable explanation. It wasn't like all of them would've come down with some contagious disease.

Something serious was happening, that was for sure. The leader canceled rehearsal and went around visiting the six's homes and workplaces, questioning them about what was going on. His bad feeling had been accurate. All six wanted to leave the troupe - however, for a completely different reason than he'd imagined.

To get right to the conclusion, the six who wanted to quit the troupe were all Sumika's lovers.

Not in the sense that Sumika had been waffling between different lovers in such a short time, of course. Without anyone in the troupe being the wiser, she had been dating the six of them simultaneously for more than half a year. And they weren't merely going out; she had completely charmed them.

It's not like they were pure, naive, and ignorant. All six were accustomed to being betrayed and deceived, with enough resilience to recover from breaking up from a years-long relationship in half a day tops. They wouldn't survive as troupe members otherwise.

But what Sumika had wrought upon them was different from mere heartbreak. Sumika had led them to believe it would be a lifelong love. It was fair to say she'd repainted their very concept of love.

Talking with the six of them, the leader was horribly confused. Because it was like they were each talking about an entirely different woman. He wondered again and again whether this Sumika Takasago was indeed the same person as the Sumika Takasago he knew.

There was only one explanation that made sense. That Sumika had gone and perfectly played six different roles as the "girl of their destiny," matching each of the six members' types. No matter how excellent her acting chops were, he couldn't see her as someone who would do such an outrageous thing, yet there was no room for any other explanation.

That left just one question: motive. Why did she have to do such a thing? What possible reason could there be to stir chaos and destroy the troupe that accepted her from the inside?

There would be no way of knowing that without asking Sumika herself. But the leader was now busy dealing with a troupe that could no longer maintain itself, and would have no chance of meeting her for a while - no, perhaps that was only an excuse. He knew Sumika's address and contact info, so he could create an opportunity anytime if he wanted.

The leader was afraid of Sumika - that was the truth. Maybe she was still concealing something even now. What if the troupe's destruction was only the beginning, and she was watching how things played out to decide when to drop a second bomb? What if agitating her somehow caused the already-fatal wound to open further?

Now that Sumika had left this world, he was freed from such fears, but had lost all means of determining her motive. The troupe was a mish-mash aside from the initial three, so they were a weakly-involved bunch who had little association once they stepped away from the troupe. So while a grudge against individuals would be one thing, it was hard to imagine Sumika held a grudge against the troupe itself.

As much as he racked his brain, he couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer. She probably had some grand motive far beyond us, he imagined vaguely. Or no, maybe she simply wanted to try using her incomparable talents in the real world instead of on stage. If that were the case, I could understand at least a little.

In any case, the incident forced the dissolution of the troupe. To call it a breakup caused by romantic trouble was too trite. He had instated rules to prevent those kinds of problems in advance, but they proved to be useless in the end. In fact, it could be said those rules only delayed the surfacing of the problem.

But at least in that regard, the leader didn't feel much regret. No matter how many counter-measures he prepared, it would have arrived at the same conclusion regardless. The moment he caught the attention of that femme fatale Sumika Takasago, his troupe was already done for. Though he lost a thing that he'd built up over long years, perhaps he could chalk it up to simple bad luck, that he wasn't chosen as a target of her seduction.

*

That marked the end of the troupe leader's story.

There was a long silence. The leader took a tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose, then started making fresh coffee. While they waited for the water to boil, the two of them gazed at the pale blue flame on the portable stove. And they smoked cigarette after cigarette.

"Do you hate Sumika?", Ogami asked casually. After asking it, he realized it was a pointless question. There was no chance he didn't.

"'Course I do. Hated her enough to kill her, at first."

The leader put coffee grounds into a paper cup filled with hot water and stirred them, then handed the first cup to Ogami. He thanked him, and put the hot coffee to his chilled lips.

"Everything I'd worked so hard to build was destroyed without me really even knowing why. If there were some way to hurt that woman without leaving evidence, I'd say I would've done it without hesitation. 'Course, then she went and kicked the bucket without my involvement."

After the leader finished making his own coffee, he pondered about how to continue for a while.

"Yeah, at the time, I hated her to death. But at this point, I'm more impressed than anything. That woman deceived a bunch of guys who'd put years of work into acting with her stellar performance alone. No offense to the ones she tricked, but I feel like I got to see a good show in the end."

"Surprisingly positive of you," Ogami remarked.

"Yeah. And I'm not just impressed. I'm grateful, too. As I watched the troupe break apart, I realized that deep down, I was relieved. Seems like my motivation for acting had left long ago. The moment I realized I didn't have to keep the troupe going anymore, I felt refreshed like never before in my life. Like I'd suddenly grown wings."

"Your position as troupe leader had become a burden?"

"That's part of it. But more than that..."

All of a sudden, he smiled.

"When I first heard about the commotion Sumika'd caused, I was hit by an intense jealousy even I couldn't make sense of. Not toward the six guys she was deceiving, but toward Sumika. I think half my murderous desire toward her wasn't for destroying the troupe, but because of that jealousy. And when I realized what that jealousy was about, I lost my passion for acting completely."

The troupe leader summed up the circumstances of the dissolution like so:

"It's like this. It's not that I wanted to perform; I wanted to become 100% perfect to someone, like I'd been back in high school. When I was acting as a good friend to Kayaba, by way of him having 100% trust in me, I could approve of myself 100%, too. I was always someone who needed a roundabout approach like that to appreciate myself. And that woman managed to do it to six guys at the same time. You gotta admit defeat there."

[+]

6

By the time Ogami was back in the Town of Sakura, it was 8 PM. When he called Kasumi, she answered on the second dial tone. She whispered that her parents were home tonight, so they should rendezvous outside. The designated meeting spot was the supermarket rest area.

When Ogami arrived, he didn't see Kasumi there. He stood in front of a vending machine, and after some slight indecision, pressed the button for tea. He'd had plenty of coffee already today. Sitting on a pipe chair repaired with packing tape, he took a sip of the hot tea and instantly felt revived from the warmth.

After that, Ogami took another look around the area. Above some shelves carrying microwave ovens and electric kettles was a familiar poster, part of a campaign for suicide prevention. An illustration of a woman crossing her arms by her chest with a gentle smile was accompanied by the slogan "Don't keep it in, talk it out."

Back when he was in middle school, there had been a blunt notice reading "Please refrain from using for more than 30 minutes" where that poster was. It was nowhere to be seen now. Maybe it had outlived its usefulness with the town's dwindling population.

After about five minutes, Kasumi appeared in her usual coat and sat down next to Ogami. Figured he should buy a drink for her too, he asked what she'd like, and she replied "I'll have the same thing as you, Ogami."

Kasumi took a sip of the tea he gave her, then put down the cup. Then, putting both elbows on the table, she stared at Ogami with her chin in her hands.

"Were you able to have a good talk with the troupe leader?"

"He kindly explained everything, even things I didn't ask about. I feel like I kind of get why you didn't want to give me the details yourself."

She nodded. "I worried that even if I told you things just as they were, it might sound like I was being overly bitter because we're relatives, or that I was still hiding something crucial. The troupe leader was able to see things relatively calmly, so I figured he would be best to ask first."

"I think you made the right call, too."

Ogami summarized what the leader had told him. Kasumi listened to it in silence. It seemed there was nothing that needed appending or correcting.

"Was your sister really just playing with those guys?", Ogami tried asking. "She didn't strike me as someone to do such a pointless thing."

Kasumi stared into her cup as she spoke. "I don't know the truth, either. But I do think she did it not on a whim or impulse, but with a firm intention. I have no proof, but you can call it a sister's intuition. And also, like the troupe leader said, I feel like her objective certainly wasn't to ruin the troupe or get revenge on a member."

"If not that, were there some circumstances that forced her to do it?"

Kasumi shook her head, suggesting she didn't know.

"The number one thing that doesn't sit right with me is..." She briefly paused, then continued. "Why, if my sister possessed such eminent acting talent as to be almost magical, she would purposefully paint herself as a villain. There should have been plenty of ways to make herself appear like a victim as well. And yet in reality, it seems she actively chose to reveal the secret. In so doing, she resigned herself to accepting the role of villain. That just gives a mismatched impression, doesn't it?"

Ogami nodded, and drank his tea instead of replying. That's exactly what he had been stuck on, too. If Sumika was mentally unstable, maybe that sufficed to explain it, but could someone walk a tightrope with six men for over half a year in such a state?

To drive away the heavy silence that came over the two of them, Kasumi spoke up in a cheery voice.

"Um, do you want to go for a walk?"

The town was already half-asleep. Houses with their lights on were sparse, and there was no noise worth qualifying as noise. There were no aromas of dinner nor soap; there was only a scent like clear water that was unique to snowy towns.

Every time he passed a bulletin board at a street corner, Ogami casually checked it. All of the boards had posters on them similar to the one he'd seen in the supermarket earlier, affixed with thumbtacks. In some cases, there were even posters about suicide hotlines on the fences and walls of people's houses, though most had faded completely from exposure to the sun. He'd heard that national suicide rates, which peaked about 20 years ago, had improved considerably with the spread of Handcuffs and introduction of the prompter system, but it didn't change it being a serious societal problem.

"Do you smoke, Ogami?", Kasumi suddenly asked.

"I do," Ogami replied simply. He recalled how he'd smoked quite a few while talking with the troupe leader. "Do I smell like it?"

"No. I just thought I smelled something like that for a moment," said Kasumi. Then she stared at Ogami's face. "Ogami, do you have a death wish?"

"What, because I smoke?"

"My middle school health teacher said so. That the only people who smoke these days either aren't thinking at all, or have a latent death wish. You don't strike me as someone who doesn't think at all, so I wondered if it was the latter."

"Who knows, maybe I'm not thinking at all."

"Is that so? Then good."

Ogami nodded vaguely, unsure how to respond to that.

"It's good to not think about anything," Kasumi said after a while. "I'm striving to be like that myself."

"Hope it goes well for you."

"When I'm walking at night like this, sometimes I find it's going quite well."

"And right now?"

"Right now, I'm thinking about how I hope you aren't bored."

"I'm not."

It was the truth. At least since coming to this town, he hadn't felt bored once.

"Now I'm thinking about whether you're just saying that to be diplomatic."

"It's useless to think things like that," Ogami said. "Besides, I like walking too. Probably for the same reasons as you."

Soon, they arrived at an elevated plaza. The two approached a bench placed in front of a wooden fence, and sat down after checking that the surface wasn't wet. And they gazed at the night town, not doing anything in particular.

Kasumi repeatedly reassured him "feel free to smoke," so Ogami moved a little further away and smoked just a single cigarette. Seeing him remove his Handcuff before lighting it, Kasumi remarked with wonder, "So it's true that smokers "jailbreak" before smoking."

The cigarette tasted worse than usual in the night air. Even Ogami didn't quite know why he was smoking these things. Maybe it was in fact a drawn-out suicide, or maybe he wasn't thinking like Kasumi said. Or maybe it was just a chronic case of "having nothing to do."

There were no large buildings in town to obstruct their vision, so they could see to the edges of town from the plaza. Amid the flat darkness that spread out from the unlit houses, there was a solitary light. Ogami supposed it was a hospital. The one he'd visited Kozaki in when he was staying there.

Come to think of it, Kozaki'd suspected I was a Sakura, Ogami suddenly recalled. To have one foot in Sakura Delusion as a grade schooler must be a pretty rare case, thinking about it. Maybe spending so much time in a hospital was fertile soil for delusions like that.

No, that's not right. Ogami thought it over more. What Kozaki had couldn't strictly be called Sakura Delusion. He likely did have Sakura assigned to him; he just misjudged Ogami as one, is all. No doubt there were some fakers among his "friends at the hospital" he'd mentioned. And they had failed to prevent Kozaki's suicide - that seemed like a safe assumption.

Even as early as then, Sakura were near at hand.

"Oh, I wasn't thinking anything just now," Kasumi reported as Ogami returned to the bench.

"Good to hear."

"Still, I'm going to have to think about what comes next soon."

"I was just thinking about discussing that," Ogami said. "Actually, I've already decided who I'm going to meet next."

"Ah, did the troupe leader tell you about someone?"

"Yeah. Though due to scheduling, we probably won't meet until next week."

"Who exactly is it?"

"Don't know her name. But she's a woman, and was apparently on good terms with your sister."

"Oh, Teacher? A good choice."

"Teacher?"

"Everyone called her that because she took initiative to teach newcomers, I'm told. She evidently helped my sister a lot, and meeting and speaking with her myself a few times, she seemed very kind. Though from what I hear, she left the troupe herself before it was officially set to be dissolved."

"Was that... prompted by your sister?"

"I don't know. But I think there's a good chance it was. Since she had been quite close with my sister until then."

"Seems worth talking with her."

"Indeed. Teacher might know a side of my sister that we don't. I hope we can learn something new."

The two got up from the bench and went back to the supermarket taking a different path than the one they'd come from.

While walking absentmindedly with Kasumi, Ogami realized he'd pass by Kujirai's house if they continued this way. It was hard to imagine he remained at his parents' house, but even so, his pace quickened as they reached it. Because of this, he almost missed seeing the "For Sale" sign.

It seemed the Kujirai family had already left this town. So it wasn't just Sumika; the other threat had also been removed without him realizing.

Ogami stood in front of that sign for a while.

"Was this an acquaintance's house?", Kasumi asked, standing beside him.

"Nah," Ogami said. "Just thinking how there are a lot more empty houses around."

Kasumi still seemed like she wanted to ask something, so Ogami brought up a different topic. "By the way, have you decided what you'll do after you graduate?"

"I'm going to the college my sister went to," Kasumi answered. "Even if there's no significance to it now. I wish I'd aimed for somewhere better. I had pretty good grades, you see."

"You wanted to support your sister from nearby?"

"Sure, something like that." She didn't seem very interested in the topic. "What are you doing these days, Ogami? Are you in college?"

"I'm bouncing between various jobs," Ogami replied, dodging the question. Certainly he couldn't say he worked as a Sakura on matchmaking apps. "Currently I'm working as somewhat of a counselor, but I'm not able to disclose much about it."

"Ah, confidentiality, I see."

"Right. It's confidential."

"You seem like you'd be well-suited to work like that. I get the feeling you really listen to what people say."

"What are you aiming to do?"

Kasumi hummed in thought. "Nothing in particular for now... but if I have to name something, I'd like to be a happy bride."

"That's a fine goal, too."

"Do you think I can do it?"

"Dunno. I don't really know much about brides - too complicated for me. Happiness, too."

"I don't know much either," Kasumi said with a smile. "It's a very difficult problem."

His meeting with the teacher was in a week. There wasn't much to be doing until then. He spent his time aimlessly at the old apartment, occasionally went shopping, and shoveled snow when it snowed, moving through the days like clockwork.

After the fourth day, he got a call from Kasumi. She was calling to confirm if it was okay to visit the apartment tomorrow. He had no reason to refuse, of course. Ogami told her she could come anytime she liked, so Kasumi said "Then I'll be visiting at 10 AM," and hung up.

There was a knock on his door at 10 that night. The knocking had a kind of weight to it that Kasumi's delicate hands couldn't possibly produce. It was unquestionably someone other than Kasumi, but he couldn't think of a single other person who'd visit his room. He hadn't told the troupe leader about this apartment, and it was far too late for a mail delivery. Was it a neighbor who mistook their room?

He held his breath to wait out the situation, and they knocked again. This time it was an even stronger knock, filled with conviction. The light from his room was probably visible from outside, so he couldn't pretend to be out. Ogami went up to the door, unlocked it, and opened it while bracing himself.

Standing there was a man who Ogami indeed had no acquaintance with. He was a tall man wearing a military parka over a suit. Judging from his eyes, he was probably about the same age as Ogami. Greasy forelocks and stubble covered a good deal, but even through these, Ogami could tell he had a good-looking face. He's like a movie actor done up to look like an outcast, Ogami thought. It was the kind of face where trying to dirty it just made its beauty stand out more.

In spite of the snowstorm starting up outside, there was hardly any snow on the man's jacket. Behind him was a large four-wheel-drive car that felt out of place with the old apartment's parking spots. It seemed that was what he came here in.

The man faced Ogami in silence for a while. It appeared as if he was just as taken aback as Ogami.

"Do you need something?", Ogami asked.

The man continued staring at Ogami as if he hadn't heard it. Ogami felt an impulse to just shut the door on him, but he couldn't imagine that would make the man simply give up and leave.

Finally, the man opened his mouth. "So that means... I suppose you must be Mr. Ogami?"

"That's me," Ogami affirmed. "And you are?"

"As I thought." The man nodded with self-satisfaction. "I heard from the troupe leader. That a man had recently started looking into the truth of Sumika's death."

With his use of the title "troupe leader," this man must have been a member of that troupe. But Ogami didn't recall telling the leader his address, and it didn't seem like even the man had come with the expectation of Ogami being here.

"I see, living here to await the fiend's return... An interesting idea," the man remarked with admiration. "I wouldn't have thought of it, at least, and even if I had, I certainly couldn't pull it off. Your feelings for Sumika seem genuine."

He wasn't following at all. What in the world was this man saying? "Await the fiend's return"?

"I think you've made some kind of mistake," Ogami told him, endeavoring to keep a polite tone. "I'm not living here to wait for anyone's return. I was just looking for a residence in the area ,and rented one here because there happened to be a room open."

Then the man fell silent again. He seemed like the type who would talk when it pleased him, and not talk when that pleased him.

"If that's true," the man said at length, "you're in possession of some absolutely incredible luck."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm your ally," the man said with a smile. "I've been running after the truth of Sumika's suspicious death ever since then. And if my guess is correct, this very room you're living in is the goal. Even if the goal tape has disappeared."

Ogami settled on "the detective" as a tentative name for the man. Sure, he probably would've given his name if asked, but he also didn't particularly care to know.

The room had no chairs or cushions for visitors. As Ogami puzzled over what to do, the detective said "I'm fine with here," leaning his back on the door. "I don't intend to stay here long."

Ogami nodded. If he didn't mind, that was fine.

"Instead of me talking, I think it'd be faster if I hear what you can tell me first," the detective said. "How much do you know about Sumika's death?"

"Nothing beyond what I've heard from Sumika's sister and the troupe leader."

"And what sort of story did you hear from the troupe leader?"

"That after tearing the troupe to shreds, she finished things off with a mysterious suicide."

The detective twisted his mouth into a smile and laughed with ridicule at that. "Guess it's not unreasonable he'd think of it that way. He was out of the loop about the essential parts the whole time. Though of course, that was a silver lining for him. Even though his troupe dissolved, he got away with a much lighter impact than what some of the members did."

From the detective's loathsome-sounding tone, Ogami supposed he was one of Sumika's ex-lovers. It was clear he had some form of attachment to Sumika, for good or ill.

"Well then, what are you thinking about her suicide?", Ogami asked.

"I'm convinced that her death wasn't suicide," the detective declared.

"Why?"

"Because there's no chance she would kill herself."

His face practically had "isn't that obvious?" written on it. This guy probably still hasn't escaped the spell Sumika cast on him, Ogami thought. Actually, perhaps her death had made the spell fully take hold on him.

"You don't seem to believe me," the detective remarked, as if reading Ogami's mind.

"Saying "it's not suicide because it shouldn't be suicide" is the same as saying nothing at all."

Then the detective laughed out loud, as if Ogami had told a clever joke.

"You've got a point. You're right," the detective conceded. "But you see, when you work in theater for a long time, you start to pick up on that kind of thing. The more serious you are when acting, the easier it is to see through. It's the same as how trying desperately to hide something makes it easier to spot. And she acted something out for us very seriously. Which is why I know her actions weren't her genuine feelings."

The detective adjusted the front of his military parka, as if only just starting to feel the cold.

"She had no intent of dying," he insisted, looking into Ogami's eyes. "At the very least, her death wasn't a simple suicide fully of her own volition. I guarantee it."

"So you're saying she was murdered?", Ogami inferred. Then he appended, with a hint of irony, "By one of the six guys she cheated on, for instance."

"It's a more likely possibility than suicide," the detective said calmly. "If they really hated Sumika that much, that is."

"And weren't you one of them?"

The detective smiled wordlessly.

"Well, I suppose it's hard asking you to believe me when we only just met. But it's true. Which is why I can tell that you're convinced Sumika was murdered, too. You have sufficient grounds to believe it was murder, don't you? I'd appreciate if you could fill me in."

Ogami didn't respond, instead asking: "By the way, who's this "fiend"? You said this room was your "goal.""

"The man who lived here before you moved in. One of the troupe members. If there's anyone who has important information about Sumika's death, it's him. It's pointless even asking any other related parties. Because ultimately, their knowledge ends at wondering "what kind of show was Sumika putting on?" But he fell off the map at about the same time Sumika died. So I've been periodically checking here to see if he'd come back."

"But since I was able to move in, he must have moved out some time ago."

"Yep, that's what it means. But I don't have any leads pointing to anywhere else he'd go. In that sense, this is our final stop for the time being."

"You're sure it's not just "a dead end"?"

"I try to keep an optimistic outlook," the detective said. "By the way, are you familiar with where and how Sumika met her end?"

"I'm not."

"Would you be willing to go there with me?"

In contrast to his soft demeanor, the detective was a rough driver. The tires would sometimes get caught in a deep rut in the snowy road, making the car shake violently. Yet paying it no mind, he just further pressed on the gas pedal. Ogami imagined this wasn't him getting worked up as they neared the site of Sumika's suicide, but just the way he normally drove.

Taking a side road in front of a bridge that went across a large river, they descended a gentle slope to a riverside park. There was no sign or anything at the entrance, and the road to the parking lot had fallen into disrepair, so it seemed to repel visitors in spite of being a park. It of course hadn't been cleared of snow either, so everything had been buried.

The detective parked beneath a solitary streetlight and turned off the engine. Aside from an echo in the back of Ogami's ears, it was so perfectly silent as to make you think you'd gotten something wrong. An excessive silence, like being left behind in a massive movie theater after closing. He felt like if he stayed still, his sense of sight and touch might also become strange.

"This is where her life ended," the detective said in a whisper.

"How?", Ogami asked. His voice sounded muffled, like he was talking with earplugs in.

"The car was parked like this, then sealed up with tape... you know, the old standby."

Ogami pictured the scene. As it progressed, he started to hallucinate that the air in the car was getting thinner.

He opened the door to exit the car. Stepping on the ground, his boots sank into snow up to the ankle. The wind was calm, but the damp cold air coming over the river stung his skin. He buttoned his duffle coat up to the neck, then crunching through the hard snow to cross the parking lot, headed to where he believed there'd be a walking path. The detective followed behind him. The darkness intensified the further they got from the streetlight, but when there was this much snow, it didn't make much difference whether you could see where you were walking or not.

After reaching a point where he could go no further, Ogami scooped up some snow to make a snowball, and chucked it up high in the direction of the river. It immediately went out of sight, sucked up by the darkness. A few seconds passed, but there was no sound of a splash. Maybe it hadn't reached the river, or maybe it hit a tree branch or something.

"Lonely place, right?", the detective said from behind.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that," Ogami said, turning around and rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Sure, it's pretty awful right now, but you can at least see something here in the spring."

The detective didn't reply for a while. Ogami couldn't read his expression in the darkness.

"That's right, you were a local here. Is this a famous place?"

"No. I just happened to know it."

"That's a funny coincidence," the detective said, not sounding amused at all. Of course it wasn't a coincidence, which he seemed to understand as well. "Though naturally, she died at the end of summer. Probably didn't get to see the "something" you're talking about."

"That's a shame," said Ogami.

*

During the spring break before their third year of middle school, the trio went to meet the cherry blossoms.

In the Town of Sakura, spring break was spring in name only, as in reality it was closer to a second winter break. You couldn't expect to see sakura blossoming at graduation, and even upon getting into April, you'd catch glimpses of snow for a while. You'd only get to put away your coat around the middle of April. That day, the trio were huddled around the heater dressed just the same as in the dead of winter.

It was Kujirai who proposed it. Leaning back in the sofa and paging through an old magazine, he unexpectedly said "Let's go meet the cherry blossoms."

Ogami and Sumika looked at each other, then back to Kujirai.

"You mean, head south to where the cherry blossom front is?", Ogami translated.

"How far have they reached at this point?", Sumika asked.

"Closer than I thought." Kujirai opened a map on his smartphone and pointed at the location of the front. "It's still too much to walk, but we can get there in two hours taking buses and trains."

The next afternoon, the trio left town to go meet the cherry blossoms. The sky was clear, and soft rays shone upon the ground. The gusty wind was still roughly as cold as in the middle of winter, but there was occasionally a faint sweet smell mixed in.

Ogami truthfully didn't care one bit about the sakura, but any excuse to go out as a trio was welcome. Even Kujirai surely didn't have the sort of interests that suggested a love of flowers, so it wouldn't have mattered if they were cherry blossoms, plum blossoms, peach blossoms, whatever.

To give away the outcome, they weren't able to meet the cherry blossoms. They got a bus transfer wrong, and headed in a direction that was completely off the mark. Part of it was being in unfamiliar territory, and part of it was not checking their location very well when they got engrossed in some discussion along the way. After laughing at their inattention, the three retraced their steps back to the Town of Sakura where no sakura bloomed.

A string of warm days continued the next week, and real spring came to the Town of Sakura earlier than usual. Waiting another week after that, the trio again went out for flower-viewing. While riding bicycles around town, they happened to come across that riverside park. Though surrounding trees made it impossible to tell from the outside, the plaza was enclosed by sakura in bloom, and a carpet of petals lay at their feet. The three gasped at the sight.

"If they're blooming this early, there's no need to go out and meet them," Sumika said, stretching happily in the shade of a tree.

"Because we went out to meet them, they tactfully hurried over to us," Kujirai theorized while lying in the grass. "We should be grateful."

They didn't see anyone but themselves who'd come to see the sakura. A wind a bit too lacking in modesty to call a "spring breeze" blew through the park, quickly scattering the petals of the sakura that had bloomed away from people's gaze.

The countless white petals fluttering on the wind looked less like a snowstorm, as was the common comparison, but a swarm of butterflies.

*

The detective's four-by-four arrived back at the apartment around midnight. When Ogami got out of the car to return to his room, the detective stopped him.

"If that guy comes back or anything, you should let me know."

He put his arm out the window and indicated his Handcuff. Ogami approached him and touched the Handcuffs to trade contact information.

"The last person Sumika went to meet before she died was the previous tenant of this room. He was always the kind to abruptly vanish and wander here and there, but he came back to this town just a few days before Sumika's suicide, and met with her in secret. Then after that, he disappeared completely. He must know something about Sumika's death."

"I'll contact you if he comes back."

"Appreciate it. And I'll report any developments on my end too," the detective said. Then he added, as if just remembering it: "The man's name is Shogo Kujirai. You should remember it just in case."

"Right," Ogami affirmed, feigning calm. "I'll be sure to remember it."

Part 3

Novel List