It was morning. Ten o’clock, to be precise. I didn’t get to bed until late after yesterday’s chance encounter with Mashiro, so I was only waking up now. At least it wasn’t a school day, or I’d be letting out a piercing scream, my hair would turn white all at once, and I would die on the spot. That might sound like an overreaction, but that’s how much I hate being late.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Yup, that’s the sort of scream I’d let out in my final moments. It’d be kind of ironic if, after all the effort we went through to show that this place wasn’t haunted, my friends woke up to find my disfigured corpse.
I decided to go grab some breakfast, even if it was a little late for that. Maybe it was more like brunch at this time of day. Anyway, as my mind argued semantics, I got up and made my way to the bathroom, where I bumped into Iroha. Her face was pale.
“D-Did you hear that just now, Senpai?”
“Don’t be silly, Iroha. It’s summer vacation. There’s no reason for me to scream, my hair to go white, or for me to drop dead.”
“You’re the one being silly! Wake up already!” Iroha slapped my cheeks lightly. Her cool touch snapped my brain in gear at once.
“Huh?! Who was that screaming just now?”
“So you finally made it back to Earth, huh?”
“I’m always down to earth. Unlike some airheads I know.”
“Ouch. You don’t remember spacing out literally two seconds before I slapped you, huh? That’s kinda worrying, y’know.”
“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Wait, you slapped me? You trying to start a fight?”
“You only hear what you wanna hear, huh?”
“You guys sound like you’re havin’ fun,” Ozu remarked, lifting himself out of the massage chair. “That voice came from downstairs.”
“Maybe it was the front entrance. Let’s go check it out.”
“Yes, boss!” Iroha gave me a hearty salute.
“Right.” Ozu nodded.
Hopefully we wouldn’t run downstairs to find a murder or anything.
When we got there, we found the innkeeper sitting on her rear on the floor and trembling. She was looking right at Sumire, who was lying face down in a pool of red liquid.
“S-Sumire-chan-sensei?”
“Sh-She’s dead?”
Iroha and I stood there, completely shocked. Though we couldn’t see the body’s face, we knew it was Sumire from her hair and stature. The goopy red liquid continued to pour out from her body. If I had to guess, it was coming from her stomach and chest. Assuming it was blood, it was enough for her to be dead already.
“Sumire-sensei...” Ozu murmured, staggering towards her. “H-Hey, get up. You can’t just die on us.”
He hooked his foot under her body and rolled her over slowly, as though she were nothing more than a dried-up turtle at the side of the road.
Ozu, that’s gross! I didn’t know you were such a monster!
“Ugh...” Sumire’s shoulders heaved with sobs as she was turned face-up.
She’s alive!
“Hey, are you okay?!” I dashed up to Sumire and helped her sit up. “Iroha, get an ambulance!”
“On it!”
If I remember correctly, you’re not supposed to move the victim too much at a time like this. Do I need to stop the bleeding first? There’s way too much sticky red liquid on her clothes. We needed towels, and lots of them. There should have been a ton at the public bath... Huh?
My mind was racing at full speed, when all of a sudden I noticed something. It was down on the floor at our feet, in the spot where Sumire collapsed. Four cartons of tomato juice, all crushed flat. Plus, now that I looked closer, Sumire’s clothes were all intact, and there were no signs she’d been stabbed or anything.
“Oh my God! Why would you try and trick us like this?!”
Sumire wailed. “Stop it! I need those muscles to do paperwork!”
I jabbed my toes into the pressure points in her sides to fix her up. With a pathetically lewd look on her face, Sumire writhed in agony. I swear she had a quota of how many times she needed to make that face in a week.
“Senpai?! What the hell are you doing?! That’s gross! I didn’t know you were such a monster!”
“No, Iroha! Look. This isn’t blood. It’s tomato juice.”
“Wh—Tomato juice?” Iroha looked down at the floor and finally spotted the cartons of juice, squashed flatter than a frog on the freeway. “Why the heck would you do this, Sumire-chan-sensei?!”
“Nooooo! Not the backs of my ears! They’re sensitive! That tickles! Aaaaaaaaargh!”
Iroha tickled everywhere she could get her hands on, from Sumire’s ears to the backs of her knees. Sumire squirmed and rolled around in agony with that same lewd look on her face. I know it’s annoying to hear about that face all the time, but just let me off for now. This was her fair punishment for making us worry so much.
“N-No... I wanted...wanted to give this to Iroha-chan to apologize!”
“Apologize?”
“I brought her favorite tomato juice to appease her! But the threshold here was way higher than I thought. I tripped and fell, and the juice... Ugh! Iroha-chan, you’ve gotta hate me, right? I mean, I’m totally fit to be a wife now!” Sumire buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
“I have no idea what you’re saying. Plus, isn’t it usually ‘unfit’ to be a wife?” Iroha looked at me desperately.
Don’t look at me like I understand what’s going on in her head!
“Didn’t Aki tell you?” Sumire gasped between sobs. “They’re making us do the Ceremony of Knots.”
“The Ceremony of Knots? Never heard of it. Sounds like fun, though. Why didn’t you say anything, Senpai?”
“Because I have no idea what it’s supposed to be myself. It’s not even legally binding, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
I didn’t know why Sumire was throwing a tantrum about it like a kid who didn’t want to go back to school. It was nothing more than a traditional event passed down through the generations in some secluded area of Japan. It was just a formality, one we could get out of the way nice and quickly. Basically, more trouble than it was worth to explain to Iroha and Ozu.
Sumire’s eyes flew open. “Not a big deal?! Are you kidding?!”
“H-Hey, get away from me! At least wipe the juice off your clothes first!”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, Aki! The Ceremony of Knots is... It’s...” Sumire choked out, bringing her face closer to me even as I tried to push her away. She fixed her gaze on me intently, an unquenchable fire burning in her eyes. “The Ceremony of Knots is absolute. It’s the most cursed wedding-style ceremony in history.”
I stared at her. I blinked. I stared at her. I blinked again.
What?