Editing We Don't Open Anywhere: Kouta Hiiragi's Closed World (II)

== Kouta Hiiragi's Closed World (II) ==

As <b>I</b> put my textbooks in my bag, <b>I</b> thought back to what had happened at lunch.

Miki had clearly been acting strangely. <b>I</b> didn’t mind the fact that she had been lying to me. Everyone has things they don’t want to tell others.

But why had she seemed so afraid of me?

Was there some problem with me? ...Well, it wasn’t impossible. She did mention something about her magic getting less potent. It was clear that something about me had changed.

But <b>I</b> didn’t know what exactly had changed. In fact, <b>I</b> didn’t know what kind of person <b>I</b> was to begin with.

And on top of that — <b>I</b> didn’t really care.

As <b>I</b> was standing to leave, the voice of a man <b>I</b> once thought called out to me.

“Hiiragi, I have something I would like to ask you. Could I have a moment of your time?”

It turned out that Akiyama had simply been in poor health on that day. But what did he want with me now? We’d never held a meaningful conversation before.

Also, <b>I</b> felt like Akiyama’s countenance had changed recently. It was like he hadn’t been sleeping much; his eyes had bags under them, and his skin looked awful. His eyes glinted with a dim light, and his image had taken a slight departure from that of an honors student.

“When he was still with us, would it be correct to say that you were the one who with the closest with Yahara?”

“Huh? ...Uh, more or less.”

“That must have been a harsh blow for you.”

He probably didn’t have any bad intentions, but it was clear he was holding back. In reality, <b>I</b> was likely only one mourning Masato’s death.

Upon realizing that, <b>I</b> finally understood.

Masato’s homicidal aspirations were the real deal, and he had every intention of carrying them out.

So ever since he died, <b>I</b> had been contemplating what the largest thing keeping him from committing murder was. Was it his conscience? His morals? His antipathy? Fear? The effect it would have on his future? After thinking about it, <b>I</b> realized that it was none of those. Anything within him that held him back would have simply be discarded if he fell into despair and abandoned himself.

So there had to be something outside of his heart that kept him from killing. Namely, his environment.

If someone committed a crime, their family would face repercussions as well. Even if he was a minor, his name would eventually come out, and the internet would expose the location of his house. And rather than receiving sympathy, the assailant’s family would be treated as jointly responsible. You could easily imagine such a thing happening.

Masato wasn’t so unimaginative a person as to ignore what would happen to his family, nor did he lack a sense of empathy. He wasn’t some natural-born serial killer.

So Masato took it upon himself to create it. An environment where he could kill without regrets. A world filled with nothing but enemies and strangers.

Of course nobody would mourn his death in such an environment.

“And? What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“Ahh, I simply couldn’t help but take an interest in Yahara’s incident.”

“Out of curiosity?”

“No, more like out of a sense of justice. I felt like there had to be something I was capable of doing.”

<b>I</b> felt like Akiyama’s words sounded rehearsed.

“I wonder, was it true that Yahara was involved in some rather unwholesome affairs? Well...I refer to affairs in the broad sense, by the way. Perhaps that alone makes it not unusual he was involved in this incident. There were various things published about him in those periodicals, weren’t there?”

Although their authenticity was dubious, a number of magazines had published articles about how Masato was abusing stimulants, involved in the prostitution of minors, and was affiliated with an anarchist organization.

<b>I</b> didn’t know how best to answer that, and Akiyama drew closer in response to my silence.

“Were you completely unaware of all that?”

“<b>I</b> knew about the stimulants. But he never mentioned anything about any gangs or prostitution rings or anything. He didn’t show any signs of being involved with them, either. <b>I</b>’m pretty sure that’s all just misinformation.”

In order to prepare the environment for his murder, he likely intimated himself in things like that intentionally.

“Perhaps you weren’t close enough to Yahara to involve you in things like that? Are you saying that he never to bring you into his group of delinquent companions?”

“Pretty much. He didn’t involve me in sketchy stuff like that. He never even ate lunch with me, let alone tried to get me to smoke or anything. If we were around each other we’d chat, if the timing worked out we’d walk home together. But he definitely never tried to coerce me, and he never invited me anywhere. That was about the extent of our relationship.”

Bringing up the one time he called me out to that park late at night would be misleading, so <b>I</b> felt it would be better <b>I</b> not bring it up.

“I’m sure that if <b>I</b> ever stopped wanting to spend time around him and started avoiding him, he wouldn’t have so much as spoken to me.”

“I see...”

His expression seemed somewhat dissatisfied. Had he been hoping <b>I</b>’d say something different?

...What <i>had</i> he been hoping for?

“So, why do you ask?”

<b>I</b> had a hunch that Akiyama didn’t really want to hear about the incident. An odd feeling caught on my mind.

Putting his hand on his chin, Akiyama answered.

“I suspect that the reason that Yahara was killed was the fact that he was sticking his hand in dangerous places. Following that reasoning, I felt it was possible that you, as his friend, might be in danger of meeting a similar fate. Am I mistaken?”

<b>I</b> see. So my sense of unease was because <b>I</b> had the hunch that he was more interested in hearing about me than about Masato.

“In fact, I was thinking—”

“—that it would not be so strange for you to be killed as well.”

What was that?

<b>I</b> just had the oddest sensation.

Far beyond any of the unease <b>I</b> had been feeling up until now, it had bordered on outright discomfort.

“...What makes you space out so?”

“<b>I</b>, <b>I</b>’m not-”

Akiyama furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Well, I can hardly blame you for being a little out of it after having something like that happen to a friend of yours. You have bags under your eyes.”

The fact that he had bags under his seemed to be lost on him. Was Akiyama also plagued by something related to Masato’s death? Was that why he was asking me all this? But if that was the case, what would he, who got along with Masato about as well as dogs got along with cats, have to worry about?

The unease got stronger. Something was off.

As <b>I</b> pondered such thoughts, I heard a loud, rude voice.

“Oy, is Akiyama around?”

Peering through the door was, for some reason, Yamazaki. The man who had been harassing me and Miki the other day.

<b>I</b> wouldn’t have thought Akiyama would willingly spend time with a person like Yamazaki. In fact, he grimaced more than he had during our whole conversation.

“I’ll see you later, Hiiragi. Do be careful, now.”

Raising his hand uncomfortably, Akiyama turned his back on me.

“Um, are you okay? That senpai isn’t forcibly dragging you around or anything, is he?”

“Hm, well... He isn’t exactly doing me any favors by coming to my classroom like this, but... It’s no cause for concern.”

Akiyama walked briskly to where Yamazaki was waiting. After exchanging a few words, Akiyama lead the two of them out of the classroom.

Everything about this was suspicious. But Akiyama wasn’t looking for help, so <b>I</b> had no way of getting involved. And besides, <b>I</b> didn’t particularly want to get involved, nor did <b>I</b> want to help him.

Masato’s body had been discarded deep in the mountains. The autopsy found the cause of death to be a stab wound in his chest. The body was about a week old when it was discovered, so the crime was estimated to have been committed somewhere between May 25th and May 28th. The fact that Matsumi couldn’t get reception on Masato’s information on June 2nd corroborated that. The range on reception was this city, and by then Masato wasn’t in this world, let alone the city.

The investigation was also going poorly. First of all, they didn’t even know where he died. On top of that, his acquaintances were largely unknown, and it was difficult to narrow down who might have had a motive. The group he had been interacting with hadn’t even known his name.

The last person to interact with him, a female company worker, gave an anonymous interview about him calling out to her near a subway station. She claimed that he had been acting oddly, saying things like “I’ll kill you.” That was what lead to the inference that he was using some manner of stimulant.

But that wasn’t it. <b>I</b> had seen firsthand how he had begun acting strangely in response to Matsumi-senpai’s scanning.

The mass media had also gotten fixated on the idea that he might have intentionally put himself in some sort of dangerous situation. But if Masato had fallen into despair to the point of taking suicidal actions, he would have killed someone instead. <b>I</b> had grasped Masato to the point of being sure of that.

Masato’s murderous impulses wouldn’t have been directed at himself. Only people who saw life as cheap wouldn’t differentiate between killing themselves and others. And the high value Masato placed on life was the reason he longed to kill in the first place.

So getting killed certainly wasn’t part of Masato’s plan. Perhaps the killer was someone he knew, someone he didn’t expect?

If nothing else, his killer was an amateur. After they disposed of the body in the mountains, it was found relatively easily. And they didn’t even bother making it look like an accident or a suicide, which lead to it being investigated as a murder and the subsequent autopsy.

<b>I</b> was on classroom cleaning duty, and my musings kept me from finishing until it was rather late. Miki had been dragged off by some friends and had already returned home.

<b>I</b> headed for the front gate alone. The throngs of reporters, who had been crawling all over the school when the incident first came to light, had more or less dispersed.

If <b>I</b> had to compare, it seemed that the world at large was much less concerned with the details and perpetrator of Masato’s death and more with criticisms of his life. However, the fact that Masato was a victim wasn’t under dispute, so most of the major news companies recognized that Masato may not have had any direct involvement in the case and weren’t focusing much on his circumstances. That meant that most of the people still gathered in front of the gate were journalists from gossip magazines of questionable repute.

“...Excuse me.”

Someone called out to me from behind. Although <b>I</b> initially thought to ignoring them, thinking that they were a member of such a publication, <b>I</b> eventually turned around after realizing that the late hour made it unlikely that the question would be of that tone.

Before me stood a girl from another school. Her face was plain, and she didn’t make much of an impression. She bore a dark expression, and her eyes repeatedly glanced for side to side. But as if by habit, her mouth alone was upturned.

“Is this... the school where Masato Yahara went?”

“It is...”

“It is, isn’t it...”

On that note, she trailed off. There was clearly a follow-up question, but he was hesitating.

Thinking that perhaps <b>I</b> had met her before, <b>I</b> observed her face, but I had no recollection of her.

“Sorry to bother you. That’s all I wanted.”

In the end, she never gave her follow-up. Looking downwards, she quickly left.

What was that? Was she an acquaintance of Masato’s or something? Even so, she was acting rather suspiciously...

Tilting my head at the bizarre encounter, <b>I</b> gazed at the female student. Then suddenly, a small back that <b>I</b> <i>did</i> remember appeared next to her.

Ririko Matsumi.

That’s it! Matsumi-senpai might know something about the incident!

With that flash of inspiration, <b>I</b> ran after that small back.

“Matsumi-senpai!”

Matsumi-senpai had taken some sort of interest in me, so she would probably greet me with a smile. At least, that was what <b>I</b> expected.

“...”

But not only did she not turn and smile at me, she didn’t turn my direction at all. Even when <b>I</b> got close enough to stare at her, she just kept plodding on slowly and ignoring me.

“...Senpai?”

Thinking that perhaps she hadn’t noticed me, <b>I</b> tapped her on the shoulder. As a result, she finally saw me. But her deadpan expression didn’t change.

<b>I</b> then remembered how Matsumi-senpai had collapsed and began vomiting after reciting the information from Masato’s scanning. Perhaps she hadn’t fully recovered yet? Or maybe she was angry at me for backing away from her before <b>I</b> eventually set her free?

As if she had truly turned into a machine, Matsumi-senpai gave no signs of life.

“Senpai, it’s me. Kouta Hiiragi.”

“......hm.”

At the sound of my name, she finally gave a slight response, slightly raising her eyebrows.

“Hii...ragi?”

“That’s right! <b>I</b>’m Kouta Hiiragi! <b>I</b> have something <b>I</b> wanted to ask you!”

“Hiiragi... The white Hiiragi...”

Although Matsumi-senpai was staring daggers at me, her eyes seemed like they were out of focus.

“No.”

“Huh?”

“No. You’re not Hiiragi.”

“What are you talking about, Senpai? Of course <b>I</b>’m Hiiragi.”

But it didn’t look like Matsumi-senpai even head my rebuttal. Looking away from me, she resumed her plodding.

<b>I</b> wanted to stop her, but decided against it due to her strange demeanor. One way or another, it didn’t look like <b>I</b>’d be able to communicate meaningfully with her.

<b>I</b> sighed heavily.

Was she simply an “apparatus” after all?

Unable to hold back my laughter, <b>I</b> looked up.

Once <b>I</b> did, <b>I</b> was met with a surprise. Standing right next to me with eyes wide open was Akiyama.

“Huh? What are you...?”

“Are you and Ririko Matsumi close?”

He was asking rather intently.

“<b>I</b> don’t know about close, but we’ve talked a few times.”

Akiyama gazed at Matsumi-senpai’s receding back. His expression was clearly warped with disgust. His hatred for Matsumi-senpai was quite evident.

“Um... did you finish helping that blond senpai?”

But instead of answering my question, he returned with one of his own, the disgust never fading from his face.

“Do have a habit of getting involved with people like her?”

“‘People like her’?”

“Forgive my wording, but people with problems. Ririko Matsumi, Masato Yahara, and perhaps we should count Miki Kouzuki as well.”

“It’s not like <b>I</b>’m intentionally hanging out with weird people...”

“But you’re awfully close to a number of them. And you don’t seem to be particularly close to anyone else.”

He said such rude things so casually.

“<b>I</b> mean, it’s true that <b>I</b> don’t have many close friends...”

“And you say that you don’t seek those kind of people out deliberately? If that’s the case, then perhaps you hold some sort of fascination from their perspective?”

Irritation? Or maybe it was impatience? As Akiyama continued prattling on, it became more and more clear that something about him was off.

He seemed to realize this, and quietly exhaled while calming his expression.

“I apologize. It would appear I’ve said some rather untoward things. Please forget I said any of that. I guess the incident has just made me a little high-strung.”

Akiyama spoke.

“I’m worried about you, Hiiragi.”

Again.

It was happening again.

That strange sensation.

“What do you mean by ‘worried about’?”

“Hmm? I mean that I’m worried about you getting caught up in this incident, of course. What else might I mean?”

Thinking about it logically, no other meaning made sense.

But <b>I</b> knew.

This man didn’t care at all about my well-being.

He hated me, and was on high alert.

It was all a deception. The expression he was twisting his face into, one of outspoken concern, was nothing more than a mask.

Akiyama was concealing his true nature. Or perhaps he wasn’t aware of it.

But <b>I</b> could see his filthy, corrupt true form, like a swamp of illegally dumped oil.

Ahh, <b>I</b> finally understood why Masato hated Akiyama so much.

Akiyama was like Masato’s opposite. Masato had turned his back on the world. Whereas if necessary to traverse the world, Akiyama would readily use others as stepping stones.

“What’s the matter?”

Akiyama’s smile was warped. No, his expression was the same as before. But even if it hadn’t changed, once you knew his true self the connotation changed. If you peeled off a single layer of his skin, his evil nature would be plainly visible. Although up until now <b>I</b> had thought of him as nothing but a simple intellectual, <b>I</b> could no longer sense anything from those bespectacled, slit eyes but cold-blooded evil. If it was for his own sake, this man could commit any crime while still thinking himself pure.

It was like an optical illusion. Once you had looked under the facade of an honors student, you couldn’t see him any other way. You stopped being able to see him as anything but cruel and self-righteous.

His smile was a sneer. His sympathy was cajolery. His kindness was wiliness.

“...<b>I</b> have to get going.”

<b>I</b> left Akiyama, practically fleeing.

This was the first time <b>I</b> had felt this emotion. <b>I</b> had never harbored this emotion towards myself or towards another. And what’s more, it was strong enough to make my head throb dully.

<b>I</b> was perplexed. <b>I</b> couldn’t believe that <b>I</b>, of all people, could feel this way.

But <b>I</b> was certain of it.

<b>I</b>—

—despised Shuuichi Akiyama.

“So, like, the sky above the hot spring was twinkling like crazy. We’d heard that there were a bunch of fireflies nearby, so we figured that it was fireflies got really excited, but it seemed kinda unnatural so then we realized that it wasn’t. So, what do you think those lights were?”

As planned, <b>I</b> paid Miki a visit at her house on Sunday.

<b>I</b> suspected that her room would be ominous and packed with magical paraphernalia, but <b>I</b> was completely off-mark. Although her bookshelves did feature a number of books on magic, the room was painted a uniform white. If anything, it seemed a bit plain for a girl of her age, sacrificing stylishness for a wholesome atmosphere.

On a similar note, despite Miki’s gorgeous looks she never wore makeup, and the plain clothes she was wearing were casual and not conspicuous in the least.

“Would you believe it! Those lights were the flashes of smartphone cameras! Apparently some boys got a room above the open-air bath, right, and they were having themselves a photo shoot! They’re the worst! And what’s worse, now those dumb boys have seen my soft fair skin! You don’t have a monopoly on it any more! Oh, I feel so sorry for you! And to think how my chest and such swelled at the thought of you eventually being the first one to see me naked! ...Ah, but there’s some good news on that front! When that happened, I had a towel firmly wrapped around my chest! And we all lived happily ever after!”

<b>I</b> felt like the room and her outfit didn’t really mesh with her boundlessly bubbly personality.

She was putting no small amount of effort into consciously manufacturing that personality. <b>I</b> had initially been tricked by her audacious conduct, but in reality she was quite shy. If she couldn’t get a decent read on the other party, she tended to freeze up. Along those lines, the reason she hadn’t immediately approached me when school started up could have been that she was trying to carefully examine me first.

But why would she go so far to create that bubbly personality?

Thanks to her amiability, she could get away without being hated despite being seen as a weirdo. In order to receive that benefit, <b>I</b> assumed she was intentionally making use of her smile.

Did this too have something to do with Miki being a magus?

“...Kouta, you aren’t listening to me, are you?”

Miki puffed out her cheeks cutely.

“...Sorry. <b>I</b> had something on my mind.”

Normally that would be the end of that line of discussion, but Miki pressed her lips firmly together. Worrying that <b>I</b> had killed the mood, <b>I</b> said “sorry” again.

After a little while, Miki spoke in a low voice.

“Those eyes, they’re awful.”

“Huh?”

“They’re awful, it feels like they’re analyzing me.”

With a serious look on her face, Miki went on.

“I mentioned this before, but Kouta, you’re getting worse at taking in my magic. Do you have any idea why?”

“Umm... is it because <b>I</b>’ve grown accustomed to it, maybe?”

“That’s not it. The reason you’re not taking in my magic well is because of the extent to which your attribute has changed. Someone other than me started staining you with their attribute. That’s why my magic can’t reach you. ...You know who that is, right?”

“Not really...”

“You weren’t conscious of it? ...Well, I guess that makes sense. Self-consciousness isn’t really something you’re capable of. You yourself don’t know what kind of person you are, so you wouldn’t have any way of noticing changes. Then I should put this clearly. Kouta, you’re becoming stained in Masato Yahara’s attribute.”

“Masato’s...?”

“It’s to a pretty severe degree; you’re already starting to think kinda like him. That’s what those analytic eyes are expressing.”

“But, Masato’s already dead. There’s no way for him to influence me. Why, after all this time...”

“To the contrary, it’s like it’s <i>because</i> he died... Here, let me explain. Right now, you’re evoking him.”

Another new word sprung up.

“You’re making a face like you don’t get it. But it’s like, you don’t want to forget about him, right?”

“Of course <b>I</b> don’t.”

Everyone would soon forget about Masato. Without even trying to, even his parents would likely forget he had ever existed. Masato didn’t have any human connections. That was the environment he himself crafted.

Which meant that if <b>I</b> forgot about Masato as well, he would truly disappear from this world. He would disappear without a trace, as if he had never existed in the first place.

That’s why <b>I</b> spent so much time thinking about him. So <b>I</b> could still stand face-to-face with him.

“You want to remember him so badly, you’re calling him to your side. That’s what evocation magic is.”

“Hold up a second. If I can use magic, doesn’t that kinda mean that I’m taking on <i>your</i> attribute, Miki?”

“It doesn’t. I told you that anyone can use magic, remember? And I told you that you had magical talent, right?”

She had mentioned that.

“If you took on my attribute, you’d be able to comprehend and master magic. But that and just being able to use are two totally separate things. For example, Yahara was a powerful magus. But he couldn’t control it. Magic is like a chained beast - it can lash out at any time. I don’t know if Yahara knew how powerful his influence was, but it looked like he tried really hard to keep other people from getting involved with him...”

In a way, him minimizing his influence was probably connected with him creating an environment in which he could kill.

“You know, Kouta, you have a talent for mimicry. In fact, I’ve never met someone who could imitate people as precisely as you. You don’t just copy their attribute, you copy their capacity as well. I guess it’s kinda like being able to copy someone’s results just by copying their batting form? That gets across how amazing it is, right? And it gets across how insane it is too, right? ...So I realized that I had to split you two apart so you couldn’t use that monstrous magic of his.”

Even without processing it through the lens of the value system of, <b>I</b> could tell that continuing to spend time around Masato was dangerous. So <b>I</b> understood why she had been so worried.

Kouta, you’ve already completed the first step of evocation, which is creating an artificial astral body. ...Um, to put it in a way that’s easier to understand, you created a firm ‘image’ of Yahara himself in your head. Am I wrong?”

She... wasn’t wrong.

The image <b>I</b> had of Masato in my head was developed enough for me to hold a conversation with him.

“Normally, that ‘image’ won’t do anything. When an author keeps images of their characters in their head, the worst that’ll happen is they’ll come across as a bit odd. But your ‘image’ of Yahara is, regardless of your will, going and acting on its own. It’s leaking into the outside world. You can tell if you just look.”

Without thinking, <b>I</b> stared at my hand, but of course nothing about it was any different from normal.

“That ‘image’ of Yahara is trying to entrench itself in you in order to exist. After you evoke it, it’ll possess you. Your barbarous name<ref>https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbarous_name</ref> - it’s like an incantation, but if he learns it, and speaks it, you won’t be able to stay yourself any more.”

So, in other words the kind of thing a psychic would refer to as “possession”?

“...What should <b>I</b> do?”

As far as <b>I</b> was concerned, not having been aware this was happening in the first place, <b>I</b> didn’t much care what my image did.

But <b>I</b> knew that Miki saw this as a huge problem and wanted to stop it. And <b>I</b> wanted to help her to the extent of my abilities.

“You don’t have to do anything, Kouta.”

Miki pursed her lips, displaying her resolve.

Her entire body was giving off energy, and it felt like she was at the center of a swirl of light.

“I’ll stop it for you.”

Miki moved her hand behind her head. Her hair fluttered gently, filling the room with the smell of shampoo. My first, out-of-place impression was that her hair was surprisingly long when she let it down. She had unfastened the red hair band that always held up her ponytail.

Why was it, <b>I</b> wondered, that her eyes were fixed in place at if she had been hit over the head with a log. Was she trying to perceive something? Was she trying to appeal to me? As a result, <b>I</b> couldn’t get my thoughts straight. <b>I</b> just stared at her dumbfounded.

While <b>I</b> was stunned, Miki drew her face close to mine. Extremely close.

Huh?

<b>I</b> couldn’t even let out a surprised voice.

Because.

Miki’s lips were blocking mine.

As if a switch had been flipped in em, my thoughts forcibly ground to a halt.

The image in front of my eyes felt like something far off, something unrelated to me. My sense of reality vanished, as if <b>I</b> had been sucked into the other side of a television.

But the sensation was still there. Miki’s lips were soft. They felt nice.

Miki drew away.

As the pleasant sensation faded, the implication of what had just happened finally hit me.

That was a kiss.

Miki kissed me.

[[File:We Don't Open Anywhere In-Text Illustration 2.jpg|thumb]]

The moment <b>I</b> realized this, it felt like explosions were going off inside my head. Like a baby that couldn’t hold its neck steady, my head bobbed about frantically. My eyes were having trouble focusing on Miki, who was right beside me.

“You’re still shaking. I made you shake. Now it’s fixed.”

Simply seeing those lips move was bewitching, and <b>I</b> began to feel dizzy.

Meanwhile, Miki fastened the red hair band she had removed from her hair around my left wrist. It made a sharp sound as it snapped tight.

<i>Snap</i>.

That noise echoed inside my head as if I were standing in a gigantic hall. The The pain from the snap wasn’t just in my wrist, it spread throughout my entire body in tandem with a certain sense of comfort. As the pain diffused, suddenly my swelling head felt as though it were deflating. My head, which had been on the brink of boiling from the heat before, felt like it had been suddenly thrown in the Arctic Ocean.

Was <b>I</b> back to normal?

“Miki...?”

“I’m sorry.”

Perhaps thinking that my soft utterance of her name had been a rebuke, she went on.

“I know this wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t think of any other way. I couldn’t think of any way to save you without using magic. Even if you didn’t want me to, I had no choice but to do it by force...”

“Magic...? That was magic just now?”

“Yeah. I’m really sorry.”

<b>I</b> see. That wasn’t a kiss just now.

She was just putting our lips together.

<b>I</b> was overcome with surprise. <b>I</b> didn’t know what to think of it. <b>I</b> didn’t really mind that she had used magic.

But <b>I</b> was beset upon by an unfamiliar emotion.

<b>I</b> didn’t know what “it” was. It felt similar to a blend of rage, sadness, dejection, exasperation, and disappointment, yet it was different. One thing was certain, though. “It” wasn’t a pleasant emotion.

“Kouta, make sure you don’t take off that band, okay?”

Not having reached a conclusion regarding my emotion, I glanced at my left wrist.

“That’s a charm containing my full-strength magic. If any fate tries to influence your will, this will definitely change that fate for the better.”

From the looks of it, it was the same as any other hair band the shops nearby would sell. But <b>I</b> could feel it tightening not just on my wrist but deep, deep within me.

“Can you feel it? Then I guess maybe I didn’t need the warning. You shouldn’t be able to remove it by your own power.”

There was no way that was possible. Let’s try taking it off, shall we?

“......Huh?”

...It was no good. <b>I</b> couldn’t do it. ...And for that matter, <b>I</b> didn’t want to.

<b>I</b> knew that <b>I</b> was at least physically capable of removing it. But <b>I</b> was oddly reluctant to. Even if <b>I</b> knew logically that the work required to do so could hardly be called work, it felt like <b>I</b> were being sent to a battlefield and was hardly inclined to go. It didn’t feel like <b>I</b> was being compelled not to, removing it simply seemed tiresome. <b>I</b> couldn’t be bothered to.

So this was Miki’s magic. So it was capable of doing this much.

“It’s not like I could just do that to anyone. I was only able to do it to you because of how much time we’ve spent together.”

Miki should have been glad that her magic worked, but instead she looked almost depressed.

“...Let me give you an excuse, at least. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to. If it was anyone else, I wouldn’t have even considered it.”

She wasn’t lying. <b>I</b> could tell by her expression. Miki held me in good favor, and <b>I</b> likewise.

But in the end, that kiss was for the sake of magic.

If she hadn’t had that reason, it was something she couldn’t have done.

“Sorry, Miki. <b>I</b>’m going to head home for the day.”

Her face going white, Miki grabbed my hand as <b>I</b> stood to stop me.

“I’m sorry. ...I’m sorry!”

“Don’t get me wrong. <b>I</b>’m not mad at you, and <b>I</b> don’t hold you in contempt or anything. If anything, <b>I</b> thought that was pretty Miki-like of you. But if we’re together any longer today, it’ll just get awkward. So <b>I</b>’m going to head home. That’s all there is to it.”

Upon hearing that, Miki softly let released my hand. But she didn’t look relieved, and she didn’t lift her eyes from the ground.

She probably realized it as well. That our relationship couldn’t possibly continue in the same way as before.

Without uttering another word of reassurance, <b>I</b> headed for the door.

“Can I just ask one thing?”

Miki’s lips were trembling pitifully.

“You don’t hate me now, do you...?”

But when I heard that, the last of my sympathy vanished.

“You don’t have to worry about that. But—”

My next words might be unkind. But if <b>I</b> didn’t say them, <b>I</b> wouldn’t able to settle my raging emotions.

“<b>I</b> have to wonder, why do you spend so much time confirming my feelings without voicing your own even once?”

Taken aback, Miki’s eyes widened as she tried to keep her mouth under control.

<b>I</b> was never wrong when it came to inferring other people’s emotions. Normal people make sure conjectures through the lens of their own value system, distorting the result, but because <b>I</b> had no such filter <b>I</b> could make accurate evaluations.

But for whatever reason, my sensors seemed to be amiss when it came to Miki.

Miki held no romantic feelings towards me.

<b>I</b> had been under the misapprehension that she felt something similar. But she had just told me quite clearly that she didn’t.

The reason <b>I</b> was mistaken was because she <i>did</i> harbor affection towards me. But it was likely similar to the emotion one would feel towards an abandoned puppy. Miki was a kind person, so if she saw an abandoned puppy she would probably take it with her against her better judgement. She would then become emotionally attached to it, and in return for her affection it would probably come to love her.