Rain (Part 2)

"Was I that obvious?"

Looking back, Karuizawa Kei had come to me with a serious expression, trying to talk some sense into me.

It felt like a scene I'd rarely get to see.

But I had to admit, sometimes people just need someone to talk to, someone to share life with.

Facing everything alone—that would be far too exhausting.

After all, humans are social creatures.

I tidied up the dining table a bit, then flopped straight onto the sofa.

I'd been planning to buy a TV, but since I'd be leaving this place in just over ten days, it didn't seem necessary anymore.

The manga lay quietly on the table.

Come to think of it, I hadn't finished reading this one yet.

Sometimes I really wondered if the stories in manga were actually written based on real life.

Childhood friends who suddenly reappear, pentagonal love triangles, picking up a girlfriend on the street, getting stabbed by a little sister who's usually spoiled, tsundere, jealous, and a bit yandere. (This is just the author's random fabrication, so please don't take it personally—though if you do, leave your name so I can take a look.)

It's not impossible that these are drawn from reality, but they seem way too exaggerated.

It all felt a bit unreliable, honestly.

But that didn't stop it from being entertaining!

I sat up and picked it up.

A bookmark slipped out from between the pages.

Even though I had a rough idea of where I'd left off, if the bookmark fell out, I'd have to flip through page by page to find where I'd stopped.

Damn, that instantly killed my interest in reading further.

I tossed the book back onto the table, bent down to pick up the bookmark and put it back, but suddenly the words on it caught my eye.

Wait! I hadn't written anything on it, had I?

"Until we meet again."

Until... we meet again.

It seems I haven't introduced the place where I live yet.

I vaguely remember this apartment building had a dreamlike name:

"Dedicated to Alice."

Maybe the old man who collected the rent had a dreamy heart too.

Well, the name Alice really did have a dreamy feel to it.

Speaking of this apartment, I couldn't help but recall some things.

On that bright spring day, just as I was about to lounge on the sofa and enjoy a lazy afternoon, a knock at the door shattered the peace.

A steady, firm rap on the door, then silence as they waited for my response.

I had a feeling whoever was behind the door might be someone remarkable.

I called out from the living room, then crept over to the door on light feet and peered through the peephole.

A middle-aged man, a faint polite smile on his face, gold-rimmed glasses hiding his deep eyes.

Refined and courteous—the kind of mature uncle who'd make a great first impression.

The red veins in his eyes hinted that he'd been tangled up in some troublesome matters lately.

He kept staring straight at the peephole, and even though I knew he couldn't see in from outside, I felt like my gaze through it had been noticed.

Interesting.

"Though subconscious habits aren't easy to change, they're not set in stone either."

He rested his chin on his hand, casually surveying the room.

"In the past, I caught a glimpse of your brilliance from afar."

"Oh, right, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Shigemori Sakayanagi. Nice to meet you."

Was that expression mockery, or just a light smile?

In the outside world, I had no "past" to speak of.

There are always places in the world that sunlight never reaches.

In an instant, my mind was flooded with pure white.

All I wanted was—

To escape the shackles.

That place had unimaginable power. The fact that this facility had existed for so long was proof enough of many things.

Although Ayanokouji's father kept his promise and released me, I have a vague feeling that I am merely the fertilizer he uses to cultivate Ayanokouji.

Perhaps at some future moment, I will be locked back inside the White House, becoming a stepping stone for those who come after.

If there must be one person who succeeds, he surely hopes it will be Ayanokouji, standing above everyone else through his own ability, becoming the ideal person he envisions.

No matter how capable that place is, there are things it cannot contend with.

Facing the openly acknowledged power-holders, he probably doesn't yet have the energy to clash head-on.

Overthrow the White House?

I have no attachment to that place.

No attachment has nothing to do with dislike, and nothing to do with liking either.

It's simply pure indifference, and I don't particularly feel like evaluating its existence.

It benefits some people, and harms others.

I gained a lot there, and I lost a lot there.

So there's nothing to carefully settle.

Sorry, I'm not very invested in things that can no longer affect me.

If we absolutely must interfere with each other, then I suppose I can only say:

Sorry, you taught me too well.

From what I understand, the most famous school in this area is none other than Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School.

With a 99.99% probability of entering an ideal university or landing an ideal job, a free school atmosphere, and one of the few schools specifically allocated land and funded by the government. Although it's a full boarding school for three years, it possesses many facilities similar to a commercial center.

Things like karaoke, movie theaters, and cafes are rare sights in high school campuses.

But at this school, they seem commonplace, and you might even stumble upon things you wouldn't see outside.

Perhaps because of the full boarding system? To give students a better life experience during winter, spring, and summer breaks.

I still don't understand the school's reasoning behind this, but what I value is the power behind the school.

That said, that school doesn't seem like a place I can attend just because I want to.

There are rumors that every class of students is already decided upon during their middle school years.

If that's really the case, getting into the school now would be as difficult as reaching the heavens.

Many things, once decided, are hard to change.

"You're not unchanging, and how could I be?"

"Past mistaken understandings always need to be remedied."

"To truly escape the White House's control, entering the school you applied to is probably one of the few opportunities. I need your strength, just as you need my help."

Barging into someone else's home and talking to yourself like that is really a bit irritating.

It seems I possess something he absolutely must obtain, rather than him condescendingly offering me charity.

"If you want to reach some kind of agreement or understanding, please stop speaking in such riddles."

"And please show some sincerity."

(Sakayanagi Arisu)

In my memory, the number of times my father came home could be counted on one hand.

But every time he returned home, he would hold me in the palm of his hand.

Accompanying me in doing things I wanted to do, or fulfilling some of my small wishes.

Or perhaps some unexpected surprises.

In short, I have always been a spoiled child.

Perhaps I'm not usually this kind of person, but when facing my parents, I can't help but feel happiness and dependence.

Even if my father had work matters, he would deal with them only after spending time with me.

Accidents can happen with anything; I used to scoff at that idea.

Because in my heart, no matter what happened, my father would always put me first.

After all, time spent together was precious. When I was younger, it was relatively frequent, because I could still enter the place where my father worked.

But ever since my father became the chairman of Advanced Nurturing High School, the frequency of his returns has been decreasing.

Even during winter and summer breaks, he would only stay a few extra days before rushing back.

My father only came back not long ago; logically, he shouldn't suddenly return today.

Could it be that my father missed me again?

I happily waved at my father, about to speak.

...but was cut off by the urgent ringing of a phone.

An annoying alarm.

Still, it could only delay me by a few minutes at most—of that, I had always been certain.

"...What you mentioned on the phone earlier—have you looked into it?"

Father's voice carried a faint hint of excitement.

"Alright, I understand. The Supreme Masterpiece is not something you can get involved with. I'll come over myself."

Oh? He came back today, but it was specifically for someone else?

And I, it seemed, was just a stop along the way for him to visit.

The so-called "Supreme Masterpiece" my father mentioned piqued a sliver of my interest.

"Arisu, your father has to go out for a bit. I'll be back to keep you company tonight."

I responded with a pure smile.

After watching him leave, I picked up the cane beside me and tapped it against the floor.

The butler hurried over, bowing as he approached.

"Make the arrangements. I want to see where Father is going."

"Supreme Masterpiece."

It brought back some unpleasant memories.

The cane scraped against the floor unconsciously, producing a harsh screech.

Father only ever showed me care and indulgence.

Because, from a long, long time ago, the ceiling of ability seemed to have been propped up by other children.

The boy behind the one-way glass never tired of hearing praise for him.

From that moment on, I wanted my parents to acknowledge my excellence, my ability.

But after I worked hard to show them, what I got in return didn't seem like recognition.

Just even more affection for me.

Why, in this regard, did they always turn a blind eye to me?

The artificial genius inside the White House was nothing but a counterfeit prodigy...

Burying counterfeit geniuses—no one is more suited for that than me!