Nightmare

"I only saw him from a distance. I heard Father was even planning to send him..."

He waved a hand.

"Forget it. This has nothing to do with you."

"Still, I think you should go see Ichinose Honami."

"That seems to have worked."

You heard Sakayanagi Arisu say this from the other end of the line. From her tone, you could almost picture her narrowing her eyes and curling her lips into a smile.

"Then..."

"Wait." You cut her off. You realized you couldn't keep following the lead of an underage girl who claimed to be a "psychologist." You had indeed remembered quite a bit, but it was all because she had guided you there. The vague sense that you were being controlled made you forcefully stop Sakayanagi Arisu.

You swallowed and struggled to ask her:

"I remember you saying that three years ago, when I was receiving treatment from you, my girlfriend stopped it against my will, right?"

"Mm. She looked like she was about to kill someone. It was completely at odds with her cute appearance."

"What did she look like? Was her name Ichinose Honami?"

The moment your question left your mouth, the air seemed to freeze.

"Don't overthink it. The girlfriend who was with you back then was Ichinose Honami."

After hearing her answer, a strange sense of relief suddenly welled up inside you. It was like the complicated feeling of a prisoner who had just been tortured realizing they were still alive: gratitude for surviving, yet already knowing what fate lay ahead, and still feeling an unfathomable sadness.

"Do you know anything else about her?"

You continued asking, your throat hoarse. You didn't know why, but when the boy named Matsuo Eiichiro had said the name "Ichinose Honami" in the memory just now, an unprecedented wave of pain had swallowed you whole. It was as if you were clawing, inch by inch, through the ruins and grit of your memories to uncover traces of her existence.

"I'm not sure. I never saw her again, anyway."

Sakayanagi Arisu sounded much more serious. Like a real doctor, she asked with understanding:

"Would you like to take a break? We still have plenty of time today."

"No need." You turned her down briskly.

"If my girlfriend stopped my therapy with you three years ago, why did you say on the phone today that it had been two years and one hundred twenty-eight days since we last spoke? We only interacted briefly, but I don't think you'd confuse an exact number of days like that with three years."

"What did we talk about two years and one hundred twenty-eight days ago?"

"...Even though you've lost your memory, Kitagawa-kun, your thinking is still as meticulous as ever."

Sakayanagi Arisu seemed to shift her position as she listened on the phone. You could hear the faint rustle of fabric.

"Yes, we did speak once then. Just like this time, you were the one who called me."

"What did I say?"

Sakayanagi Arisu hesitated for a moment, but then continued:

"Just one sentence."

Her voice was as calm and intelligent as ever, so much so that her next words seemed to acquire an air of reasonableness out of thin air:

"What Kitagawa-kun told me that day was..."

"When you call me again, no matter how long it takes, I have to tell you."

"Climb over the windowsill and jump from there."

"Huh?" Sakayanagi Arisu's words stunned you. There was an undeniable air of authority in her voice, and you instinctively looked toward the windowsill.

Five or six flowerpots were arranged neatly there. The pots, big and small, tall and short, basked in the sunlight, their ceramic surfaces radiating a warm glow. The flowers inside cast shimmering shadows across the sill as sunlight streamed through them. When the flowers swayed in the breeze, the rippling light shifted with them.

You put down the receiver and moved all the flowerpots aside. The window wasn't locked. You pushed it open easily, and a strong gust of wind hit your face. You saw the road below, the cars on it, and the people beside it. The cars were the size of matchboxes, and the people were no bigger than ants, reminding you that you were at least seven stories up.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. You counted the floors from the bottom up. Sure enough, you were on the seventh floor. Judging by the height alone, you were more than twenty meters above the ground. Two years ago, you had left behind a message telling yourself to climb out and jump from here.

Jump, and you'd get the answer.

They said that when people stood somewhere high up, they couldn't help imagining themselves jumping. But as you leaned out the window, a thought rose from your subconscious. The moment it appeared, it drove into your mind like a red-hot brand.

Tsk. You pursed your lips, placed both hands on the windowsill, and put one foot outside.

Just as you slowly moved your other foot and then your whole body across—or rather, as you jumped out the window—you suddenly felt the surface beneath your hands soften. The tiled windowsill seemed to bend like a limp ribbon, and you jumped out.

"Hey, Ryo! The police have sealed off this building. What you're doing is illegal!"

You climbed over the police barrier that had been set up to keep ordinary citizens out, still a little dazed. Matsuo Eiichiro, standing among the crowd, anxiously shouted at you. But he couldn't just climb over and drag you back by force, so he could only keep waving and calling for you to return.

You walked toward the stairwell without thinking. Sure enough, two police officers stood there. They didn't seem to have expected anyone to come in. One of them approached with a stern face, intending to escort you out, and scolded you sharply:

"What school do you go to? Get out of here! This isn't a playground for kids!"

The next moment, you seized his shoulder and slammed him to the ground. Your sudden attack and strength, clearly greater than that of someone your age, caught him off guard. You quickly shoved the other officer aside and stepped into the stairwell without hesitation.

Fourth floor, fourth floor, fourth floor, fourth floor!

You ran up the stairs. The two officers' shouts and pursuit rang out below, but you reached the fourth floor before they could catch up.

Then you saw...

Matsuo Eiichiro watched his friend suddenly go berserk for some reason and stamped his foot in frustration. The murmurs of the people around them reached his ears.

"I'm telling you, the Ichinose Family must've offended someone..."

"Right? In the space of a month, the mother lost her job, and then the daughter was caught stealing. The amount wasn't even that big, and her mother dragged her along to apologize. But the very next day, this sort of thing was all over the internet. The school she went to had no choice but to expel her. I heard she was even the student council president."

"They probably expelled her because she was the student council president and they were worried about the impact. A school's student council president being a thief—tsk, tsk."

"They were planning to move because they had no income, but then the landlord sued them, claiming they'd damaged the house and caused property loss. What kind of mess is this?"

"The girl said a couple days ago that she was going to drop out and get a job, but not a single shop nearby would hire her. I have a relative who works at a convenience store, and the manager said someone had given orders behind the scenes to ruin their family."

The neighbors watching wore expressions that were somehow both amused and sorrowful. Their gazes were ambiguous, like spectators at a play: greedy with anticipation, then coldly keeping their distance.

"...Um, what happened to the Ichinose Family?"

Matsuo Eiichiro chimed in and asked.

"They couldn't go on living, I guess. The mother gave her two daughters sleeping pills, then burned charcoal in the house."

Someone turned to him and said it offhandedly. The icy tone sent a chill through Matsuo Eiichiro.

You climbed the stairs and saw a white cat.

It was enormous, filling the entire corridor. Its snow-white fur covered its body, and its eyes, almost as large as you were, gleamed like fluorite. It lay there quietly, as if it had been waiting for you to arrive.

"Hotaru?" You remembered the cat's name almost instantly. You'd raised it. How many times? Once, twice, three times—or more?

Its enormous head came closer and nudged you, as it always did. If it had been a normal-sized kitten, the gesture would undoubtedly have been affectionate. But having a cat's head, larger than you, nudge against you wasn't pleasant. You were relieved it didn't stick out its tongue to lick you.

"Why are you here?" You stroked its fur, then suddenly remembered something and patted its head.

"Let me through. I have to get past."

It shook its head. You seemed to hear it speak inside your mind:

"No."

You were sure you had to be dreaming. Cats couldn't talk in real life. Irritated, you pushed at it.

"Honami is there. Do you know her? Let me through."

Hotaru continued to shake its head, stubbornly blocking the way. Its beautiful, firefly-bright eyes stared intently at you.

"Fine." You spread your hands.

"If you won't let me through, then tell me where I should go."

It answered in your mind:

"That depends on where you want to go."

"I don't care where I go."

"Then it doesn't matter where you go."

"Anywhere Honami is."

It nodded, then grabbed you by the back of your collar and tossed you straight down the stairs. As you cried out in alarm, its final words appeared in your mind:

"Then anywhere will do. They're all nightmares she's having unconsciously, so it makes no difference which one."

"All right. We've met many times, but let's start with introductions anyway. I'm Kusakabe Ayako. You don't need to be so nervous, and you don't have to worry about who I am. For now, I'm just a listener—your good friend." The female psychologist, around thirty years old, spoke gently to the girl across from her. Even though she was alone with the girl in the room, the girl still seemed insecure, hugging her knees tightly. She appeared to be holding something in her hand. Beneath her messy bangs, only a pair of blue eyes peered out at Kusakabe Ayako.

Kusakabe Ayako sighed, somewhat helplessly. Ichinose Honami had become the greatest challenge their counseling center had faced in recent days. She was the third psychologist to come and consult with her. The first colleague had been screamed out of the house because she introduced herself as Hokuto Ryoko. The other, a colleague famous for using aromatherapy to soothe patients, had lit a rose-scented incense stick and caused the girl to fall silent for an entire day.

"I'd like you to tell me again why you came here."

She tried to gently get the conversation started. Kusakabe Ayako held a form the girl had filled out earlier.

"Was it because you saw something frightening?"

The girl began trembling again. The psychologist hurriedly took her hand, hoping to share some of her warmth.

"Don't be afraid. It's over now. I'm here."

"Anything at all. Just say it. Saying it means accepting it."

"...I haven't accepted it? Didn't I already admit it?"

Ichinose Honami tilted her head. Suddenly, she let out a few cold laughs.

"It's written right there on the paper in your hand. I already told you: I killed someone. I admit it! I plead guilty! Is that enough?"

By the time she reached the last sentence, she was almost shouting. Ichinose Honami covered her eyes with her hand, and tears trickled through her fingers.

"Is that enough? Isn't it?"

"But, Ms. Ichinose, your psychological state is the key factor in determining the verdict. In fact, the victim's mother keeps urging the case to go to trial, but your mother insists you wouldn't do something like this, and that you were simply in an abnormal mental state at the time..."

"And besides..."

She looked directly into Ichinose Honami's eyes.

"Since that day, you haven't been able to fall asleep without the help of medication, have you?"

"Your mother and your younger sister are waiting for you. Think of them. They've been worried about you."

Kusakabe Ayako gently guided the conversation.

"That's why we need to understand your psychological state. For example, what exactly happened that day? I want you to tell me yourself."

Her gaze seemed to flicker slightly at the mention of her mother and younger sister. Slowly, she began to speak:

"I... killed... my childhood friend, Kitagawa Ryo."

After a long silence, Kusakabe Ayako didn't ask anything further. She knew this was the greatest progress they'd made in therapy over the past few days. She watched the layers of bloodshot veins in Ichinose Honami's eyes. Ichinose Honami trembled all over, staring fixedly at her hands. Her pale hands were empty now. Time was the best bleach, but in her eyes they were still stained with bright red... blood.

"No... right?"

Ichinose Honami let out a nervous giggle.

"I should've killed Karuizawa Kei back then. How could it have been Ryo? Ryo had already left the country by plane. Before he left, he gave me a birthday card and promised he'd come back in time for my birthday the next year so we could watch the Fireworks Festival together."

She held out her palm to Kusakabe Ayako.

"Actually, we've watched the Fireworks Festival so many times since we were little that I can't even remember how many. Look, I'll count them for you."

"When I was six, he bought me a Candy Apple."

"When I was seven, he gave me a cat."

"When I was eight, I caught more goldfish than he did."

"When I was nine, he bought me a large serving of takoyaki."

"When I was ten, he said my new Yukata looked beautiful."

"When I was eleven, he bought me cotton candy."

"When I was twelve, he gave me a big, pitch-black umbrella."

"Oh."

She lowered the fingers she had raised, one by one. Ichinose Honami took the pen from Kusakabe Ayako without asking and wrote in the palm of her left hand: