The Guilty One (Part 2)

She wasn't ashamed or resentful of growing up in a single-parent household. For most of her life, she had simply followed her mother's wishes and tried to be an honest, sincere person.

Since her mother didn't want to dwell on the subject, Ichinose Honami naturally treated anything to do with her father as a corpse cast aside. She buried it with her own hands, then kept walking forward.

Her school life in elementary and middle school had gone smoothly. Cheerful and outgoing, Ichinose Honami made plenty of friends, both boys and girls.

She wasn't good at sports, but she believed hard work could bring change. Little by little, she steadily improved in this area, turning what had been a flaw into one that hardly counted as a flaw.

In her third year of middle school, Ichinose Honami became the Student Council President she had always dreamed of being. Now she could stand on a bigger stage and reach out to everyone in need of help, like an angel bestowing blessings on mortals from above the clouds.

But whenever the school bell rang and she returned to the place she called home, once her classmates, teachers, studies, and everything else were behind her, a harsher, sharper reality surfaced. It lodged in her throat like a fish bone: a problem she was powerless to solve.

At middle school, everyone wore the same uniforms and ate more or less the same food. Their understanding of the world was limited to the small realm that revolved around themselves. The differences between people, between students, were mostly simple things: grades, running speed, how many friends they had...

Those were things Ichinose Honami could achieve through diligent study, strenuous exercise, and treating others with kindness.

But there was no quick way to change one's family's financial circumstances. Not even the perfect Ichinose Honami could manage that.

All she could do was be a good daughter and older sister, and work hard to earn a scholarship to a private high school, hoping to have the high tuition waived and ease her mother's burden.

Ichinose Honami had originally planned to give up her studies and start working after middle school, but her mother stopped her.

Ichinose Honami remembered it clearly. Her mother had smiled faintly then, a smile she hadn't seen in a long time. The fine wrinkles around it made her realize that her mother was growing old.

"Honami, you don't understand yet, do you? There's still a long, unknown life ahead of you. That's why you can make bold decisions. You'll work hard for what you believe is right without thinking about your own future."

"Continuing school or going to work... This is probably the first crossroads in your life, like the first time you come to an intersection."

Her mother stroked Ichinose Honami's hand. Her slightly rough palm felt warm.

"But I don't have a future like that anymore. My life won't change again. I've already passed the crossroads that brought me here, so all that's left is a straight track stretching ahead."

"If there's still a crossroads in my life..."

Her mother answered with a tired yet gentle expression:

"It's you girls."

The only reason her mother worked so hard was that she didn't want her two children to repeat her life.

Once she understood that, Ichinose Honami gave up on the idea.

These days, she was almost annoyed by how slowly time passed. She knew that every day of school she and her little sister enjoyed was built on their mother's labor alone. The thought made her feel as if she were slowly drowning, suffocating. She wished she could fold her third year of middle school and all three years of high school into four days and get them over with. Maybe there'd be university after that, but she didn't care anymore. At least once she was an adult, she could help shoulder some of her mother's burden.

At school, Ichinose Honami was still the exceptionally good student who was kind and eager to help others. At home, she remained the exemplary older sister and daughter who cared for her little sister and understood her mother. Ichinose Honami was a clever girl. Since she couldn't change things for the moment, all she could do was wait.

She locked her heart in a cage and waited patiently, like a bear hibernating through winter.

What Ichinose Honami hadn't expected was that the one who would drive her into the snow and ice in the end would be her sister, two years her junior.

If Ichinose Honami had been an excessively sensible child, her little sister, Ichinose Maki, was an ordinarily sensible one.

Perhaps it was unfair to hold her to the same strict standards as Ichinose Honami. After all, for a girl of twelve or thirteen, still a child, recognizing her family's circumstances and doing her best not to burden her mother already met the standard of being sensible.

The only thing she couldn't match her older sister in was her calm disposition.

Ichinose Maki entrusted all her hopes and dreams to the performers onstage. When she watched her favorite person captivate the crowd under the spotlights, it was as if she, too, had soared into heaven. Beneath the glittering neon lights, Ichinose Maki stopped to gaze up at her idol on the giant screen above the street.

The hair clip in the idol's hair was glowing.

For the first time, she desperately wanted something.

When that style of hair clip quickly became the talk of all the girls, Ichinose Maki sat at her desk with her hands clasped around the style that was all the rage that year. When her classmates showed theirs off during break, she held her textbook and stared at it, reading word by word. Every character seemed unfamiliar. She studied with the seriousness of a first grader just learning the fifty sounds, and didn't turn a single page for the entire break.

Ichinose Honami never cared about her own birthday. Whenever she heard a friend say, "Your birthday only comes once a year," she would silently scoff to herself, "Doesn't every day only come once a year?"

But she paid attention to her little sister's birthday. Ichinose Maki only ever acted her age and asked for a little treat on her birthday. It was barely even asking for anything, and their mother and Ichinose Honami always did their best to indulge her.

But when she noticed her little sister's recent interest, she found herself at a loss for the first time. That hair clip was the hottest style of the moment, and it wasn't cheap. It wasn't that their family absolutely couldn't afford it, but if they spent that much on just a hair clip...

During the summer of Ichinose Honami's second year of middle school, on her little sister's birthday, she and her sister walked down a long, tree-lined road. They passed the entrance to that department store again and again. Behind the glass display case, the hair clip proudly shone as the season's best-selling item.

Ichinose Honami held Ichinose Maki's hand. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, scattering patches of light across the ground. Their shadows were chopped into little fragments, too. Ichinose Honami no longer knew whether she wanted her sister to say she wanted the hair clip or whether she hoped Maki would keep being... sensible as always.

"Big sis."

She almost jumped. Ichinose Maki looked up at her.

"For my birthday this year, I want two—no, three ice creams."

"...You'll get a stomachache."

"Your birthday only comes once a year."

Ichinose Maki turned her head away as she said it.

But deep down, she also held on to a tiny hope. Ichinose sneaked a glance at the hair clip and sighed softly, as if making a wish over the candles on a cake that wasn't there.

Maybe this hair clip will be cheaper next year.

In Ichinose Honami's third year of middle school, three important things happened.

Aside from becoming Student Council President, as mentioned earlier, the second was that a new family suddenly moved in across the hall.

It was early July, just as summer vacation began.

An odd combination: a boy around her age and a cat.

She met him because of that pure-white cat.

They had just moved in and were still arranging their furniture, so they had left the door open for convenience. The white cat, lazily sprawled on top of a packing crate, immediately caught the Ichinose sisters' eyes. Ichinose Maki, the younger one, was especially drawn to fluffy, cute creatures. Though usually a little timid, this time she dared to edge closer, apparently hoping to reach out and pet it.

"Meow."

The white cat didn't shy away, allowing the little hand to stroke its round head.

"Hello. Sorry for the trouble. We should be finished in about half an hour."

The boy came out of the room and apologized, apparently thinking Ichinose might be bothered by the packing crates stacked in the hallway.

"Oh... It's fine. I'm Ichinose Honami, and I live next door. This is my little sister, Ichinose Maki. Our mother isn't home."

Ichinose Honami wasn't at all timid with strangers. Her manners were impeccable.

"I'll come by later to introduce myself properly."

Kitagawa Ryo nodded. Apparently noticing how much the two liked the white cat, he smiled and said:

"This is my cat. It's very well-behaved."

"I'm Kitagawa Ryo. Nice to meet you."

The boy was nearly 180 centimeters tall, almost a head taller than Ichinose. He wore a loose hoodie and black jeans, and had a sturdy, well-proportioned build. His back was straight, and he held a cardboard box full of odds and ends in his right hand as if it weighed nothing. His dark bangs were a little long, just covering his eyebrows. His handsome features had a somewhat stern quality, but what drew the most attention was his deep-set eyes, like a pool of dark water. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Kitagawa... Ryo, right?"

"I'm Ichinose Honami, and I live next door. I look forward to getting along with you!"

Ichinose Honami reached out to Kitagawa Ryo with her usual bright, enthusiastic smile.

"Yeah."

"I look forward to it."

The windows, still without curtains, stood wide open. The dry breeze was hot, and the early-summer sky was almost painfully bright.

For some reason, Ichinose Honami's thoughts drifted to her little sister's birthday this year, then to her mother, who had suddenly started working overtime over the past few days.

Kitagawa Ryo lowered his eyes and reached out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the stupid cat having the time of its life with the little girl. He murmured:

"Ichinose...?"

The Guilty (Part 2)

The conflict between their mother and little sister erupted the day after Ichinose Honami's sister's birthday.

She had just picked up the medicine as the doctor instructed. The hospital hallway—or, rather, the entire hospital—was pale and colorless. There weren't many people in the corridor, and everyone kept their voices low. Fear and unease over their loved ones made their expressions look astonishingly alike, as if they wore masks of different sizes but the same shape, made up of fear, solemnity, and a faint, flickering hope.

But Ichinose Honami's presence seemed to brighten the place around her all at once. Perhaps it was her brilliant hair, perhaps her lively figure, or perhaps both.

The hospital's air-conditioning was just right. Though the heat radiating from the blazing sun outside was palpable through the glass, indoors it felt cool. But the thought that she was here because her mother was sick made Ichinose Honami's mood sink again.

Before entering the room, Ichinose smoothed the wrinkles around her collar using the reflection in the glass nearby. She checked herself from head to toe once more, then took a deep breath. The girl lightly patted both cheeks with her palms. The sting was just enough, and her pure, lovely face blossomed into the perfect smile she had worn so many times before.

She didn't want her mother and sister to worry. She couldn't let her mother and sister worry.

Ichinose Honami placed her right hand on the hospital room's handle, a pale handle that matched the hospital's color scheme.

Voices arguing came from inside, their shouts nearly hoarse as they let loose all the feelings they had been holding back.

Her little sister's voice, just beginning to change, was sharper than ever. Like a hawk, she pecked at their mother with her keen beak, layer by layer, until she reached the raw nerves beneath the flesh.

A daughter was cursing her mother.

She couldn't compare with girls her age when it came to food, clothes, parents, or affection. Nothing could satisfy her, not even a little vanity.

Ichinose Maki poured out her grievances. Things the adults might have laughed off as trivial were the end of the world to her.

Children lacked reason.

Elementary school students often complained about things adults couldn't understand. Maybe a friend had made another friend, or they had accidentally knocked over their lunch and become the laughingstock of the whole class. They would also drop their schoolbags after cram school and cry, "I'm so tired."

Ichinose Maki was that kind of child. For the entire past year, she had longed for that hair clip. Even though fashions in her class had changed several times since then, she had clung to that desire, stubbornly and almost unreasonably.

It was as if she could accept all the restraint of the past year if only she could wear that hair clip.

Their mother apologized desperately. Her words came out in broken fragments between her ceaseless coughing. She seemed to want to stand and take her daughter's hand, but in the end, she could barely manage to lift herself halfway up. Sunlight streamed in through the window and cast a small, thin silhouette on the wall.

The shadow looked fragile and helpless, and also a little old.

At last, she covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

Ichinose Maki's voice broke into scattered phrases, too. Large tears rolled down her face in streams. She didn't dare look at the person in the bed, but she kept muttering under her breath.

Lunches and stationery, not having a phone when the others exchanged contact information, being afraid to go out with her classmates, and then the hair clip she wanted.

As if she were doing it on purpose, Ichinose Maki seemed to get more caught up in her words the longer she went on. She dug out everything she had bottled up, trivial or otherwise, piece by piece, right in front of her mother, from the bottom of a deep well.

She laid bare her feelings and memories from the past and scattered them all over the floor in bits and pieces, making no effort to pick them up. Ichinose Maki just stood there, numb and exhausted, watching the fragments of her emotions lie everywhere, winding across the floor like dark, twisted snakes.

Ichinose Honami's hand remained on the doorknob. Her warm palm clung tightly to the metal casing, as if she were trying to crush the handle in her grasp.

For the first time, she felt a coldness that was chilling and lifeless, as if it would suck all the warmth from her body.

The touch that made her hairs stand on end ran from her fingertips, through the nerves of her central nervous system, and spread throughout her body. It was as if the part that touched the handle had begun to wither. The temperature difference and the sensation made the feeling vivid; in Ichinose Honami's mind, it formed a clear image.

Ichinose Honami felt dizzy, as if the whole world were spinning. For the first time, she wondered whether the hospital's air-conditioning was set too low.

What frightened Ichinose Honami even more was that, although she thought her sister's words were far too harsh, she couldn't bring herself to scold her.

Or perhaps she felt, deep down, that she had no right to.

Ichinose Honami thought she ought to do something, but at that moment her legs seemed to lose their strength. Or perhaps she simply didn't know what she could do. She bit her lower lip until it nearly turned white, then dragged herself to the end of the corridor and slowly crouched down, hugging her knees as tears fell one by one.

By the time she came back to her senses and entered the hospital room, everything inside was already in disarray. Only her crying mother and the pitiful wreckage of the Ichinose family remained.

It was as if dense weeds had sprung up in her once-barren heart. All kinds of tangled thoughts filled her mind, and Ichinose Honami couldn't help asking herself again and again:

If she just got... that hair clip, her sister would smile again, wouldn't she? Everything would be all right again, wouldn't it?

From that moment on, Ichinose Honami seemed to clearly see a dark, shameful part of herself, something utterly different from her outward appearance.

Was that her? Was it Ichinose Honami?

If it wasn't her, then who was it?

Ichinose Honami didn't dare keep peering into her own heart. She simply continued, numb, going back and forth between the hospital and home.

At home was her little sister, who had lost her smile. In the hospital was her mother, bedridden with illness.

Ichinose Honami was caught between two walls, and they were closing in, inch by inch, squeezing away the air she could breathe.

It was still a scorching, sun-drenched day. The midsummer sky was so blue it was breathtaking.

Ichinose Honami headed toward the department store. Irises bloomed here and there in the roadside greenery, and the air was heavy with sticky heat. Like a ghost, Ichinose Honami drifted into the crowd.

She stared blankly at the people before her and moved through them without expression. The old people, young adults, and children all seemed as lifeless as the black-and-white static on a television screen before a childhood program began.

Ichinose Honami arrived at the hair clip counter. It no longer enjoyed the prominence it had a year ago, when it had been heavily advertised. Dozens of neatly packaged boxes lay quietly on display, like the fruits and vegetables she often saw in the food section nearby.

But the five-digit price on the small display shelf set it apart. Ichinose Honami instinctively calculated how many days that amount could support their family, then quickly felt ashamed of herself for doing so.

The item's value wasn't determined by its price. At the end of the day, it was only a hair clip. In practical terms, it was no different from the cheap ones.