Gekkou:Volume 1 Orange & Wine

[Orange & Wine]

Our classroom at the beginning of the week. Tsukimori greeted me with a warm smile upon seeing me, "Good morning."

After wavering for a few seconds, I quickly replied, "Good morning," and hurried to my desk.

I didn't want to look like a coward, but neither did I feel like arguing with her early on a Monday morning. If possible I wanted to put some distance between us and not see her face for a while. Because looking at her face would remind me of that Friday night that had become a dark memory I wanted to bury as fast as possible.

However, Tsukimori is a girl that doesn't guess your feelings at such times.

"Nonomiya-kun, your collar is awry," she pointed out cheerfully and stood naturally before me as if this had been her place since a hundred years. Then she fixed my collar with her white slender fingers.

Below my eyes was her white neck. I closed them firmly for a moment as if to shake off my stray thoughts.

My collar wasn't awry at all.

"When are you visiting me next?" whispered Tsukimori, moving her lustrous lips.

She just wanted to bring Saturday's matter up again.

"As bright as you are you should be able to tell if anyone would ever come to your place again after experiencing such a night."

While I was helpless,

"I am free next week on Saturday evening. My mother should be late on that day, too, because of a meeting of the association,"

She was as nonchalant as it gets.

"Do you even think I'd say 'Yes'?"

"Do you even think I'd want to hear 'No'?"

"It looks like I have to be clear to you since you seem to become dull when things don't go the way you want."

I approached my nose to hers until there was next to no space between, and declared point-blank:

"You won't see me there a second time!"

To top off my remark, I flashed a Tsukimori-like smile.

"You don't need to be embarrassed."

However, the originator's smile did show no interruption.

"From time to time you really behave idiotic, you know?"

"Whereas you are always mealy-mouthed, right?"

Seen from others we must have looked like the best friends, smiling at each other from that close distance.

"Aren't Youko-san and Nonomiya kinda like... newly-weds...?"

Therefore, there happened to be some that made such misplaced remarks with malcontent voices and faces. Incidentally, it was Mizuru Usami who had said that.

I didn't know how a blow fish child looks like, but I figured it must be somewhat like Usami right now, scowling at me with her chin rested on her desk and blowing up her cheeks like a balloon.

Usami really was a peculiar girl. I reckoned there weren't many people that were that lovely when ill-tempered.

While I was happily observing Usami with a sidelong glance, Tsukimori said embarrassedly, "Have you heard that? Like newly-weds!"

"A bad joke indeed."

If by any chance Tsukimori had blushed with at least one cheek, so to speak, I might have reconsidered and I might have admitted her cute sides. Unfortunately though, Youko Tsukimori couldn't be understood that easily.

The next moment, her eyes turned into moon crescents. The devil hath ascended to earth. In my eyes I could see a black pointed tail growing from her.

"Welcome home, darling. Would you like to take a bath? Or would you rather like... me?"

She giggled amusedly after saying that.

To the others that didn't know her real nature, she must have looked like the purest girl who had successfully played a little prank.

"...a bad joke indeed."

But to me it was a nightmare in many senses. One of them being that there was that one guy that couldn't keep quiet when the topic revolved around Youko Tsukimori.

"Hey! Nonomiya!"

There he stood, Kamogawa, with a grimace resembling the doorkeeper of hell.

"Of course it's the bath, right? You naturally go for the bath, right?"

Much to my chagrin, he was followed by a regiment of guys who were eager to support him, "Say it!"

"If you do not choose the bath... you know what happens then, right?"

The group exchanged glances and then simultaneously cracked a friendly smile. They were disgusting.

"Well, as a man it's clear what I take—"

It was up to me to choose, so what? Kamogawa et al had no say about it.

"—as a man one has to take the meal, right?"

But I didn't like trouble.

"A wise choice, Nonomiya-kun!"

"I'm so happy you understand what I mean, Kamogawa-kun."

"Then let's go over there and hear what you have to tell us, shall we?"

"...There are no words that express my current feelings appropriately."

This marked the start of a lot of wasted time, during which I was going to be questioned whether I dated Tsukimori and during which I would have to ensure them over and over that that was not the case.

Good grief, they had no clue. They could only act that frivolously because nobody knew about the murder recipe.

And without a clue of my troubles, Tsukimori waved her hand cheerfully.

"Goodbye, darling!"

Therefore I gave her an appropriate answer.

"I'll be late tonight, honey."

Annoyance was what made me say so.

I am sure that a blanket of grief must have enveloped me as I was led away like a low-grade employee that can't reject the commands of his superior.

—At the time, I had already noticed that an usually noisy classmate of mine, Usami, had been silent all the time.

But I had no time to care about her because I had my hands full dealing with Youko Tsukimori, Kamogawa and all the others.

Well, it's a debatable point if dealing with her would have changed the events that happened after school.

Classes had ended and I was getting ready to leave when I was suddenly stopped by a timid Usami, "...Nonomiya?"

"What's the matter?"

"Err, I noticed that... you and Youko-san have been getting on quite well lately..."

"Not more than what's normal."

Annoyed at hearing that question again, a firm tone mixed into my voice.

Usami registered that my temper wasn't favorable and thus got even more faint-hearted.

"...but you're always together."

As I was fed up of talking about Tsukimori, I quickly declared, "We simply have often to do with each other at work and as class officers. That's all." Then I fetched my bag and hurried out of the classroom.

But in the next moment Usami had gone round me and was blocking my way.

"Stooopp!"

"Come on, what is it?"

"Err, say, do you have a few minutes?"

"No."

"I-It's really just a few moments, honestly!"

My stare seemed to be frightening; she averted her eyes and looked about in the room like a pygmy marmoset.

I took a deep breath—unsuspiciously enough remain unnoticed.

"Depends on what you want."

When I contemplated that I had acted a little too immature and implied that I was willing to compromise, she was visibly relieved.

Usami wasn't at fault. I had merely gotten tired of being led by the nose by Tsukimori and of being picked at by Kamogawa and his followers. In short, I had taken it out on her though she wasn't to blame.

After peeking at our surroundings, Usami whispered to me, "I feel uncomfortable here... can we move to somewhere else?"

As I was ready to accompany her for whatever she wanted from me—not least because I wanted to amend—I nodded wordlessly.

"Shall we go then...?"

Her tense face and awkward gait got me a little scared of what was to come. Still I relaxed because it was only Usami, after all.

I was led to the back of the gym, which was unusually quiet that day.

"Club activities have been suspended starting today, because of the upcoming midterm exams."

"I see." Two questions of mine, namely why the gym was so silent and why Usami wasn't in her club, were answered at the same time. "So? What do you want from me?"

I sat down on the concrete edge of the gym, perking up my ears.

The standard line when calling someone out to such a place would surely be "You piss me off!", followed by a quarrel, and I would have found it quite funny if that actually was her issue, but as I was likely to lose to her in a serious fight, her being very sportive, I prayed that it was something else. Something peaceful.

"...It's just a continuation of what we have been talking earlier," said Usami while peeking at me from time to time, "Say, Nonomiya, are you, and Youko, um... you know, a couple?"

I wasn't startled. Kamogawa et al had asked me the same a few moments before. Though they added "If you are, consider yourself as dead as a doornail" with rather serious bloodshot eyes.

"Don't be silly. Of course not!" I laughed, but Usami was still in earnest.

"B-But! You're the only boy she gets on specially well!"

"As I mentioned earlier, that's merely because we often have to work together."

"But still! Lately, Youko-san has been mentioning you all the time when we were talking!"

"Same as above."

"But then! But then, why does Youko-san gaze at you from time to time during classes?"

"...You're barking up the wrong tree. Go ask herself!"

That was new to me.

"Say what you want, but I think you two are suspicious! I know it!"

"So?"

"...eh? So what?"

Usami looked dumbfounded.

"What do you want to hear from me?"

Seeing the question marks above her head, I pressed for her answer.

"Are you satisfied if I say that I'm dating with her?"

"No! You mustn't!" she shouted, just to make a 'Oh what have I said!'-like expression the following moment. "...Ah, n-naturally this is not something I have a say in, it's a problem between you and her after all, but, umm, I mean, isn't Youko-san, like, everyone's idol and all? So, you see,..."

Her choppy justification seemed to have no end if nobody interrupted her.

"Usami."

I tapped on the concrete next to me and signified her to take a seat. She obediently sat down there while embarrassedly toying with her hair ends.

"Honestly, there is nothing between Tsukimori and me," I ensured her firmly, looking into her eyes.

"I see... so there's nothing, huh."

Usami's face began to shine like a child that had received a candy. She was so easy to understand.

That was probably also the reason why I had easily noticed that she was attracted to me, even without a good intuition like Mirai-san.

"Very well, it seems that I have gained your understanding."

When I was about to stand up, thinking that this was all, she seized my belt.

"Can I ask just one other thing?"

Originally, I planned on just ignoring her grip and standing up, after which I would take a look at her reaction, but since my hips didn't move a bit, I gave up and sat down again.

"...Please go ahead."

"Yeah, um, Nonomiya... you aren't going out with anyone at the moment, right?"

"Right."

Usami cast her eyes down.

"Then—i-is there someone you like?" she asked towards the ground. Her face was tense and her lips pursed like a duck's.

Her question wasn't a remarkably rare one. At least to me it wasn't something to get that flustered about anyway. Usually.

However, because of a name that flashed through my mind for a split second, I forgot to answer her.

"...W-Why aren't you saying anything?"

Her anxiety helped me find my tongue.

"...that's already the third question!"

"Uwa! You distracted! That means there is one! There is someone you like!"

Usami widened her round eyes and leaned backwards, completely shocked. I seriously considered giving her a push.

"Eh? Who? Who?! Ah! It's Youko-san, isn't it? It's Youko-san!"

"Now we're back where we started. What were those minutes just now? Give me back my time and labor!"

"But who else should it be!"

"Can you tell me what exactly makes you so sure, then?"

"My womanly intuition!"

Her prompt reply made me wonder what nonsense that pygmy marmoset was babbling, but since she really was a woman, I was powerless in front of the weapon called "womanly intuition", which remains a mystery to men.

On top of that, the name that had come to mind actually was Youko Tsukimori, so I couldn't bring myself to deny it.

"I think Youko-san sees you in a different light. I know this because we've been acquainted for a long time." The nervousness from before was disappearing from her. "Even if you deny it, I think she differs."

Usami spoke with her eyes straight on me. It was a resolute gaze.

"...and I understand you just as well, Nonomiya... You're always in my eyes, after all."

It was the gaze of someone who had made up his mind.

"I think you simply aren't aware of it but consider her special, too... I can't put it into words well, but I think you are kind of special to each other. Like, actually it would have been mutual since long ago, you just haven't noticed, so what's needed is only a slight push... and you know, I was like 'I have to hurry up now!', but then I thought that it would be sort of selfish of me. Still, rather than playing a good girl and making regrets, I thought that it suited me more to be a bad girl for once but go my way and be straightforward, you know... so, umm..."

Usami hurriedly added, "J-Just a moment," took a few deep breaths and jumped to her feet.

"I, Chizuru Usami, love... you."

The way she confessed couldn't have suited Usami better.

I suppose there aren't any humans on this planet who would not like to receive such a confession from her. I became even fonder of her than before.

"Thank you," I said more or less automatically.

"Eh? Um, you're welcome...?" replied Usami, visibly confused.

I was genuinely happy about her confession since I liked her—a girl that couldn't be more different from me.

A soft breeze blew gently past us as though the school building had smoothened down its edges upon passing by. The back of the gym was so calm that the usual ado was like a mere illusion.

Suddenly, Usami stretched herself largely like a cat and—

"NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

—released a yell towards the blue sky that sounded like a cat's death cry.

"Aah! I feel SO liberated now! So glad I told you!"

Her face was literally shining.

"...Sorry for disturbing you while you're savoring your attainment, but what should I do now?"

"Mh?"

"I haven't given you a reply yet, have I?"

I thought that I was supposed to return her straightforward ball, in whatever form—even if the ball went in a direction she didn't wish for.

The next moment Usami let out a laughter like a baby frog.

I actually meant to be as considerate as my limits allowed, but it seems doing something you aren't used to always yields bad results.

"...No need to strain yourself. I'm not expecting a reply anyway. I mean, we're talking about you, Nonomiya?"

She was whispering. Since she was looking at the ground, I couldn't recognize her expression.

"I don't know what's that supposed to mean, but for now I'll just be shocked."

"...you've caught my eye ever since we entered this school, and I've long known that you're not that simple. I'm not expecting a favorable answer!"

My pride didn't let me admit that she was spot on.

"I have mixed feelings about being viewed as such a guy."

I automatically shrugged. So that's what they call a loss of face.

"But you know...," started Usami timidly while swinging her legs, "I still fell in love with you, so I had no other choice but to give my best!"

Her earlobes were almost as red as a ripe tomato at that moment.

"You have quite queer tastes, don't you?"

"W-Whose fault is that!" objected the bright red Usami.

Even her sentimental and simplistic side, which would normally be viewed as a weak point, added only to her loveliness in conjunction with her straightforward and sedulous nature.

She reminded me of a certain remark.

«Someone once said that girls in love are invincible.»

Usami pointed her finger straight at me before my nose.

"But one day I will have say that you love me! Definitely!"

Her timidness went somewhere far, replaced by her usual vigor.

However, I noticed that that her little finger was trembling slightly.

That pet-like girl named Usami struggles doing so many things I can do easily, but at times she accomplishes feats which I can only dream of.

That applied to her confession as well.

It might be a little exaggerated, but I admired Usami. Most likely, because she had traits I could not wish for.

And so she looked most impressive to me at this very moment, making me want to just take her in my arms.

However, I deliberately went another way.

"Interesting. Please give your best!" I said, making an unimpressed face on purpose. "But let me warn you: don't think I'd fall that easily for a girl like you!"

"What did you just say?! Keep those words in mind!"

"Yeah yeah."

"Dammit! I'll show you what a good woman is!"

I couldn't help it. After all I am a non-simple weirdo who thinks an angry Usami is the cutest of them.

And once again I arrived at the same conclusion: I would be so delighted if she was the one I loved the most.

It was also that moment when I became fully aware that there was one person on my mind whom I could not ignore.

The next day. It had been raining since morning without stop.

My feelings towards her were swaying in an unsure state. Too impure to be called love, yet too strong to be called interest.

It was the first time in my life that I was overcome by emotions. But if this was the price I had to pay for my autonomous mode of life, I was ready to accept and deal with that discomfort.

Of course, it was no doubt the murder recipe that applied the brake to those feelings.

I am most definitely not averse to mysterious girls, but even I feel a tiny bit uneasy when it comes to endorsing a secret that exceeds good sense.

One example being—murder.

It is not easy to accept someone who may have killed someone. Not only because of ethical reasons, but also because it's denied by one's very instinct, fearing that one might be the next target.

At any rate, in fact there was a break-out solution.

It was simple actually: I just had to go ask her directly whether she had killed anyone or not.

If her answer was "No", I could have dismissed my exaggerated ideas with a sneer, send the crumbled murder recipe flying to the burnable garbage and obtain an everyday life that was a little better than the current. A thrilling one where there is Youko Tsukimori.

Wasn't that plenty to venture it? Asking for more would be greedy. There's always a straw that breaks the camel's back.

However, what if the answer was "Yes, I have killed someone"?

I gave thought to the fact that the contents of the murder recipe was in line with the cause of her father's death. Anyone, even without a tendency to fantasizing like me, should, provided these two facts, come to the conclusion that the murder recipe was written with the objective of killing her father.

Moreover, it is completely natural to consider the author of the recipe as the murderer as a consequence.

I dropped my gaze to my shoulder. Before my eyes and nose, there was a lock of black hair painting an elegant curve.

As if riding a roller coaster, a water drop slid along that smooth hair just to eventually arrive at its end and dive into the dark gray air.

I lost some heart when I associated my own fate with the last moments of that water drop.

Probably noticing my gaze, "Mh?" she inclined her head slightly while wearing that caring sister-like smile of hers.

"I'm drawing a little nearer. Otherwise I'll get wet."

She merrily nestled up to me as if we were a couple. As a natural consequence, her handful-sized breasts were softly crushed against the region around my elbow.

Being the devil she is, she must have enjoyed seducing me.

But there was nothing I could do about it. It was raining and the only umbrella was mine, narrowing my options to one. That was the reason why the distance between us was shorter than usual.

I suspected, however, that she was hiding a collapsible one in her bag. I couldn't believe that a forward thinker like her would forget her umbrella.

Of course there was only one girl in my circle of acquaintances that conformed to the description above.

Only Youko Tsukimori.

We had ended that day's work and were walking towards the nearby station. Seeing her to the station after work was a regular task of mine since the day she told us of her potential stalker.

After that night, Tsukimori had told me, "I felt really safe when I was seen home by you. If it's no trouble, would you mind accompanying me each time from now?". Naturally, I had immediately refused, "No, because it is," but sadly we had been in the staffroom just then, getting me into the trouble of turning the whole staff, led by Mirai-san, against me: "Come on, do it!"

I had not come free until begging, "Please, let's compromise with seeing her to the station!" It was truly incomprehensible.

However, life sometimes takes an unexpected turn. To my great joy, the way to the station was ideal for talking privately to her.

I waited for the moment the traffic light turned red. "When I watched the news yesterday, I started wondering—," I began, "—why do people kill?"

Actually, I hadn't watched the news the day before. But well, there was bound to have been one, considering the society nowadays.

"Oh, you're quite the philosopher today, aren't you? I like your contemplative face!" she said in a voice that was strangely wet, as if not only her hair but also her voice had been hit by the rain. "Is it because of the rain? One always gets into a somewhat sentimental mood when it is raining, don't you agree? It gets you into the mood to read books you would not usually."

"Indeed, if I am acting unusual today, then it might really be because of the rain."

Her words gave me the hunch that I hadn't chosen the day by chance, but because of the bad weather.

"Anyway, would you mind sharing your thoughts?"

Our background music was composed of the rain drops lapping against my umbrella, the watery sound of tires on the asphalt and the blood circulating through my veins.

"Well—"

Tsukimori brushed away the black hair that had sticked to her cheek, setting free a fragrant of roses.

"—Because they feel like it, perhaps."

Her voice was indifferent.

"...Because they feel like it? That's all? Do you claim that that's reason enough to kill someone?"

I was offended by her obviously negligent answer.

"That's not it."

"What do you mean? Unless you elaborate some more, a commoner like me can't comprehend your genius, I'm afraid."

"Oh don't be angry. I'm not joking, really. I do think like that!"

She shrugged her shoulders slightly upon noticing my sidelong glare at her.

"You see, I think that in most cases the problem could actually be solved without resorting to murder, for example if it's a grudge or a fatal tangle of jealousy. Of course there are exceptions like life insurance murder."

The traffic light changed to green. A swarm of umbrellas was set in motion, leaving back only the red umbrella under which we stood.

"Don't you think that there are numerous ways of taking revenge or venting one's grudge which are more effective than killing?"

I had trouble thinking of one, but I had no trouble figuring that Tsukimori knew some.

"Every murderer has to atone appropriately for his misdeeds, be it through the law or social sanctions. There is the saying 'Harm set, harm get'. I think that applies to murder as well. Thus it is a foolish and careless method and nothing more in my opinion. There are probably many ways to call it, 'fury' or 'impulse' for instance, but it sums up to a matter of mood—a matter of 'feeling like it'—for me," she said and complemented, "I consider all irrational actions as a matter of mood."

"As you say, murder might indeed be a nonsensical conduct."

I concurred with her opinion. I was even moved. But that was probably also the reason why that queerly comfortable moment seemed kind of awry to me.

At first glance, her well-reasoned speech made her seem like an upright model student. However, upon further thought, she was only really talking about the means of reaching a goal.

Put in a nutshell, she had only argued about the effectiveness of murder as a method.

Didn't that mean that she was not absolutely disapproving of murder?

"But as you admitted yourself, there are exceptions, right?"

From my diagonal angle, I could not see all of her face. Only her mouth was barely in view.

"...For example?"

And that mouth of hers was smiling.

There we stood together under a round, small umbrella, surrounded by a massive wall of rain and night.

Even though the town was filled with all kinds of sounds, painted in various colors and packed with people, I felt kind of separated from everything, as if we were alone in an elevator at midnight.

"For example, if you were able to kill completely unnoticed."

The cause of that phenomenon was I myself: I had locked out the world.

At that moment, Youko Tsukimori was everything my world consisted of.

"Could you be a little more specific? Your twisted thoughts are too complicated for an honest person like me to understand, I'm afraid."

She affected a shrug, teasing me.

"I am talking of the perfect crime—as a third party in the know of everything would call it if a schemed murder was deemed an accident rather than the crime it is by all the world."

When I was done with my explanation, Tsukimori answered, paying her full concentration.

"—Indeed, we need to draw a line between unplanned murder and a perfect crime, which you can certainly not commit just by feeling like it. You have to keep a cool head and be rational if you aim for perfection."

The focus of our discussion was fully and solely on usefulness and efficiency—ethics and morals were no subject.

"But our country's police are respected worldwide, aren't they? I hear scientific crime detection is making rapid progress, too, compared to the past. Isn't the perfect crime impossible in fact?"

She smiled as if to imply that it was all just a pipe dream.

It was then that I finally found a possible reason for the awkward feeling I had sensed earlier:

Our conversation was clearly too unromantic for two teenagers clinging together in midst of the street under one umbrella. And yet there I was, absorbed in it, which was most likely because that's how I am.

I'm not bothered whether someone unrelated to me is alive or dead. At most I would feel curiosity towards the death of such a person. No, curiosity would be all.

I was very well aware of my slightly unconventional sense.

But what about her?

Would the renowned, upright Youko Tsukimori really allow such an immoral conversation? For someone as tolerant and ever-smiling as her, talking about it to me without showing the faintest disagreeance should have been no problem, even if she had to hide her disfavor.

However, it didn't look like that to me.

How so? Well, because I felt that, just like me, she—enjoyed immoral topics to the fullest.

"Okay, but then as a purely hypothetical question—"

I carefully touched the left pocket of my uniform from above. Inside it was a four-times folded scrap of paper.

"—what would you do if there was a plan that made the perfect crime possible?"

I always carried the murder recipe around with me.

The next moment, she gave a smile akin to the sound of a bell.

"A good question. Indeed, I might consider murder as a means of achieving an objective if I were able to commit the perfect crime. But in my case," she said with a mischievous, crescent moon-shaped smile that was truly to my liking, "I would never base such a conduct on a written plan that might remain as proof later on. It would be ridiculous if a plan that makes the perfect crime possible caused it to fail. I think a plan should only and entirely be in one's head."

She pondered for a few moments, groaning, and then added, "...if you ask me and think simply about it, it doesn't matter whether it is planned or just a product of coincidences. After all, it's a perfect crime if no one notices your willful action, right?"

Something unfolded before my eyes that exceeded my expectations. It almost went so far that I suspected I was dreaming while awake.

"It is entirely the result that determines whether a crime is perfect or not. However perfect a plan is, it's over as soon as someone else takes note. Put the other way, however 'flimsy' a plan is, it is a perfect crime as long as no one takes note."

Suddenly, I registered that I was shivering.

"But don't you agree that mistakes are inherent if a human takes part? Humans are imperfect, after all. It's the imperfect human that makes the mistake in the very end. So, eventually I think it is the executor who holds the final key."

Not because I was cold. Neither because it was getting dreadful. She wasn't scary either.

"To sum up my thoughts, the most important condition for a perfect crime is neither a perfect plan nor a perfect execution, but a perfect human—"

I was probably trembling with excitement. Because I seemed to be excited very much.

She giggled.

"Laughable, isn't it? That's just another impracticable theory on the paper; perfect humans do not exist after all. Well, of course the ones who are to investigate the crime are human, too, so there are mistakes on that side as well. But still I think that a perfect crime is unfeasible unless you come upon a remarkable succession of coincidences."

SoICantHaveKilledMyFatherRightNonomiyaKun?

Perhaps my warped personality was just playing with me, but I couldn't help thinking that that was what she proclaimed.

I shook my head strongly.

"Highly doubtful."

I turned towards her and looked into her big almond eyes. "Why?" she asked, giving a moon-like smile again, while reflecting me on her retina.

"You lied. You claimed there were no perfect humans in the world—but I know of at least one in my vicinity."

She didn't ask "Who?" but only nodded briefly, "I see."

...She got me there. That way it was only funnier!

It was all Youko Tsukimori's fault that I was more talkative than usual and felt my heart throb with excitement.

Why were the thrilling conversations with her so amusing?

Perhaps I was simply drawing pleasure from talking about immoral topics—but what if the other party hadn't been her? Would it still have been so enjoyable?

While tending to be annoyed by her usual behavior, I apparently still had expectations at associating with her deep in my heart.

So did it even matter what we would talk about? Didn't I just long for a thrill that didn't exist in my previous everyday life, by associating with her by means of the murder recipe? Wasn't that the reason why I—unconsciously—kept on walking a tightrope without getting to the point?

Wasn't I afraid of awaking and being drawn back to the boring reality if I confronted her with the murder recipe?

There was no sense of justice in my actions. What was there was interest, curiosity and the desire to learn more about her.

So all I wanted might have been a link to the fascinating person named Youko Tsukimori.

However, at the same time I also wanted to make sure whether she really had used the murder recipe to kill her father. I contradicted myself.

—Yes. I was about to make the next step towards her.

I was craving to learn a face of hers no one knew.

The green light of the traffic light started to blink. The nth red light awaited us.

The rain still showed no sign of weakening and hit the asphalt in a steady rhythm. The crush of people heading towards the station, however, had become sparser as the temperature of the town dropped.

I recovered my breath silently so that she wouldn't notice my growing excitement. Then I slowly led my fingers through between my buttons, reaching into my inside pocket.

—I had made up my mind. I intended to ask her directly about the murder recipe.

But then, all of a sudden, Tsukimori embraced me from front. I was caught with my fingers still in my pocket, unable to take them out.

"...I'm cold," murmured Tsukimori along with a white sigh before I could raise my voice in surprise.

Her upward-glance was watery, her black hair soaked, the way she leaned against me with all her weight sexy and her beautiful lips at my chin's height seemed to beg for a kiss.

The soft touch I could feel beyond her uniform was still the same, but she had grown cold indeed.

It was my mistake to have her talk that long in a wet state, but neither was I crazy nor so experienced in love matters as to hug a girl with all eyes of the town filed upon us just because of that.

I put my hands on her shoulders, wanting to release myself from her embrace, but she immediately shook her head, stubbornly saying, "No!" and hugged me even stronger. Contrary to her childish attitude, her body was more than mature enough to give rise to some complicated feelings on my part.

It was then that I felt a vibration at Tsukimori's breasts, which were pressed against me.

"...what a shame for the good mood."

While making a regretful face, she took her mobile phone out of her chest pocket. It was quite ticklish when she operated it at zero distance.

I slid my hand out of my jacket and tucked it into a pocket of my trousers. My excitement was entirely spoiled by that indelicate phone call.

"...Yes, Youko speaking."

Her expression became earnest promptly after she had begun the conversation.

"...my mother? No, I haven't heard of anything. She was at home when I left for school this morning."

As they exchanged words, her expression got darker and darker. I couldn't perceive what the caller was saying, but it was obviously not good news.

"...Yes. Understood. I'll return. Yes. If I find out something I will immediately give you a call."

She cut the connection and let out a tired sigh.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

She gazed at me with watery eyes for a few seconds, hesitating.

"...my mother was absent from the cooking school she works at without notice," she replied at last, "She would never do that. Therefore, someone of the staff was worrying about her and gave me a call."

"Maybe she's sick?"

I voiced a cheap word of consolation.

"I wonder... he told me that he has tried calling our home number several times. Of course, he tried her mobile phone as well. But it didn't connect, so he called me, her daughter, since I might know something..."

She cut off her sentence and started to ponder, furling her long eyebrows.

I let out a sigh. Somehow I sensed that nothing but trouble was waiting for me.

"Let's hurry home."

I grabbed her cold hand firmly and walked towards the station, pulling her behind me.

"...eh?"

I heard her confused voice from diagonally behind.

"Seems like you're in for some trouble, so I won't stop you any longer and go home," I said quickly. "—Saying that would have suited me better, I guess... But seeing you make such a face, how should I leave you to your own devices? Besides, I don't even want to think about Mirai-san's reaction if I left at this point."

To my plain remark, she replied: "This warped side of your personality is so lovely."

I heard her pleased voice from diagonally behind.

Thinking that she was teasing me, I promptly searched for a nice objection. However, when she whispered, "...Thanks," at my ear and I felt her freezing fingers that held firmly to me, I became unable to complain.

Not a soul was to be seen in the dark and cold residential area. The unceasing rain that was falling upon us conjured up a sense of isolation in me, notwithstanding that Tsukimori was by my side.

We hurried up the long, steep stairs, at which end that house awaited us—with its very unique geometrical design that made it protrude from the rest of the rich neighborhood.

Tsukimori had tried countless times calling her home phone and her mother's mobile phone underway, but the only voice she got to hear was the guidance of the answering machine. Because of pressing restlessness, I suspect, I heard none of her easygoing remarks anymore at the time we reached our destination.

As pathetic as it is, I found myself unable to find the right words to console her.

I followed Tsukimori through the entrance. There was an absolute silence inside.

The end of the long corridor blended with the darkness. The dire situation made it seem to me as if we had lost our way into an eerie haunt of devils.

When I took off my loafers at the entrance, she said, "...you'll catch a cold. Wait a moment, I'll get you a towel."

While swiftly proceeding through the dark corridor, Tsukimori assuredly flipped several switches alongside the wall, filling the house gradually with light.

I slowly walked through the lit corridor to the living room, where I started to wait for her.

I gazed at the arrangement, which had remained unchanged from last time, and like then, the tranquility made my ears sensitive. Thinking back, we had been alone that night.

So this time we were probably alone, too.

No one else was here. That's what my intuition told me the moment I had made my first step into the building.

Well, of course it was thinkable that her mother had collapsed somewhere in the house, but judging from what Tsukimori said when she returned, "When I went to fetch the towel, I also peeked into several rooms, but I didn't find her. She might not be here...," her mother was absent.

"I just hope she hasn't been involved in some accident..."

I smiled at the pondering Tsukimori.

"But maybe it's not such a big deal and she just didn't feel like going to work because of all the rain today, you know."

"You mean she simply ditched work?"

"Well, I, for one, often seriously consider escaping from school or work and going out somewhere when I ride my bike on nice days."

I found my own remark laughable.

"I hope so."

But thanks to her laughing faintly, I was spared from self-loathing.

"Perhaps there's a message for you somewhere? A note or something that says where she is and what she's doing?"

"You're right. I'll take a look."

Tsukimori nodded cheerfully to my suggestion. Apparently, she had regained her usual composure.

I followed Tsukimori into the kitchen. Unsuspiciously.

As much as I felt bad about taking advantage of her worries about her mother's safety, I did certainly not intend to miss out on a chance to openly search her home.

An elegant system kitchen with a yellow base filled my view.

"As expected from a teacher at a cooking school," I commented on the large fridge, the unfamiliar cookware and the various ingredients.

"Made in Italy if I remember correctly."

While Tsukimori was inspecting the kitchen, I looked around without anything better to do and took one of her mother's cookbooks to flick through it.

I didn't actually hope to find a message. Would be nice if there was one. Personally, I hoped much more to find something related to the murder recipe.

For example—a bit of new information about the recipe.

I was aware that I was being indiscreet. However, in all honesty I was fond of that kind of mood. I was enjoying a thrill comparable to detective work or exploring of a cave for a treasure.

"It looks like there is nothing here. Maybe in her room...?" said Tsukimori gloomily and left the kitchen, wordlessly followed by me.

She opened one of the doors alongside the corridor. The instant the door went open, I could smell the overly sweet scent of perfume.

The walls were covered with white wallpaper, a curtain decorated with laces, a dressing table put at the wall and a dresser that was laden with countless makeup goods. It was obviously the room of her mother.

"You get on well with your mother, don't you?"

"Yes, certainly not bad."

On the nightstand by the bed, which had a flower pattern, there were several picture frames, each of which depicted Tsukimori and her mother.

"Did your parents sleep separately?"

There was only one bed in the room which was made for one person.

"I have always thought this way was natural, but is it more common that spouses sleep in one room, after all? Well, it probably is. Perhaps they did so because both of them had to work, and I guess it was more convenient this way due to those circumstances."

"At my place, both the parents sleep together, whether peacefully or not I do not know, in a king-size bed. But judging from the 'I woke up in the midst of the night because you kept stealing my blanket', which I often hear my mother shout in the early morning, I guess they get on well."

She flashed a warm smile while listening to me.

"You have fantastic parents."

Therefore, I just answered expressionlessly, "They're normal."

"I don't want to stay too long in a lady's room," I said and left the room quickly to wait in the corridor. I was merely annoyed by the overly-sweet perfume.

I asked Tsukimori, who was searching the area around the dressing table in the meanwhile: "Where is your father's room?"

I can't say I had no ulterior motive.

"You can find it just on the opposite side."

Neither can I deny that this was a pretext to explore her house on my own.

"We'd rather search separately. I'll look through the room of your father."

But it's also true that I wanted to do a good deed, much as it didn't suit me, and help her out at least a little after seeing her behaving that mature.

"That would be a great help. But his room might be a little dusty. It has been left untouched since his passing...," said Tsukimori apologetically.

"I don't mind," I replied and headed towards the door vis-à-vis.

My first impression was that it looked like a library.

All of the books that covered one wall of the room dealt with construction, which I noticed when I fixed my eyes on the respective spines. On the shiny silver desk was a large pile of books and a desktop PC. Both sides of the desk were equipped with one cordless telephone each. I figured that this room served as both his library and working area.

As Tsukimori had warned me, my steps left behind dust-surrounded footprints on the floor. There was also a lot of dust on the window frame.

I stopped. I had registered a sound.

According to Tsukimori, that room was supposed to be untouched. But still a subtle sound resembling the buzz of a mosquito reached my ears.

It was the sound of a fan.

I stood before the silver desk. The PC seemed to be turned on, though in sleep mode. I pressed a random key.

"—Tsukimori."

The instant I saw the display, I called her name.

She then came from the neighboring room and, squinting one eye, asked, "Mh?".

"This," I said, pointing at the screen.

Indeed, her mother had left a note with a message.

"That's...," she muttered, surprised, and kept silent, staring at the screen, as though time had frozen. The only sounds in the room was the rain hitting the window and the regular buzzing of the computer fan.

At the time, I could do nothing but watch her beautiful yet so sorrowful face from the side.

Her mother's name was typed in the "notepad" on the screen, along with the following short comment.

«I'm sorry»

On that day, I didn't arrive at home until past three at night on a police car.

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