Kawahara held her head in frustration, running her fingers back and forth. Her hair clip came undone, making her chestnut-brown locks fly out in every direction. Ignoring the strands that had gone into her mouth, she rounded on the older woman.
“You’re always talking about discrimination and oppression,” she hissed, her voice cracking, “but have you ever even looked in the mirror?”
Ootani’s face had gone white with shock, but now an angry blush was spreading across it.
“Ms. Kawahara, you mustn’t say any more than this.”
“What more can I say? I can only assume that you’ve never looked in the mirror. Otherwise, you’d realize just what a shameful existence you’re living.”
Kawahara opened her mouth wide and laughed. Tears were streaming down her face. Swaying on her feet, she started to prowl around Ootani.
“I guess it falls to me to tell you. The reason you’re so unhappy is because you’re fat and stupid. That’s why nobody in your life cares about you. It’s only natural you’d start to feel bad, living like that. But in the end, it’s your own fault. Discrimination? Don’t make me laugh. Nobody likes you, that’s all. And oppression? Ha! You oppress those around you just by existing. You can’t keep blaming it on the rest of the world. Even pigs like you need to take some responsibility for themselves. Do you seriously think that if you flirt with enough men, you’ll somehow make it into high society? It’s pathetic. You really are stupid. Everyone, old and young, male and female—they’re all just putting up with you. It’s nothing to do with society, you idiot! People like you, strutting around like you’re someone important—that’s what’s really wrong with the world. Drop dead, you ugly pig!”
With one last shriek, Kawahara fell silent. She staggered in place, her eyes still fixed on Ootani. She was foaming at the mouth, laughing wordlessly, as if she was possessed. Ootani was clearly terrified. And she wasn’t the only one. Everyone was frozen in fear, trying to process what had happened to Kawahara.
Everyone except Toshihiko. He alone stepped forward to approach her. Ootani deserved this; that much was true. Kawahara’s outburst was less cheap abuse and more hard-hitting truths. But even someone as unpleasant as Ootani would look like a victim when given such a thorough dressing down. This wasn’t just Ootani’s fault, either. Everyone in the office shared some responsibility for letting things get to this point.
How long had Kawahara been holding all this in? Despite the side of herself she’d shown when she and Toshihiko were dating, she’d always kept up a strong outward front, always seeming so much kinder than everyone else. Granted, that kindness went hand in hand with her calculating nature, but even surface-level kindness for the sake of appearances took effort. As someone who had to work hard on his own public persona, Toshihiko still admired her.
Something must have happened to make her finally fly off the handle. And Toshihiko had a feeling that “something” was him. He reached out to put a hand on Kawahara’s shoulder and calm her down. She spun around to face him. A gasp of surprise escaped his lips. Her head was lolling to one side as if her neck had gone completely limp. She scampered up close to him until their faces were almost touching.
“T-Toshihiko.”
Her eyes went wide.
“Toshihiko! I’m sorry, I was just so in love with you! You were so nice, and so handsome, handsome, handsome… You did nothing wrong! Nothing, nothing, nothing… B-But the thing is, I… I…”
There was a gushing sound, and something brown splattered the floor.
“She’s throwing up!” Ootani shrieked.
Kawahara tried to step back, but her legs stayed in place, and she pitched forward instead. She clung onto Toshihiko’s knees, vomit still dribbling down her chin.
“I can see now I shouldn’t have been so clingy.”
She pitched to one side next and fell like a puppet with its strings cut. She splashed into the puddle of vomit, the dirty liquid spattering over Toshihiko’s slacks. But none of that mattered in that moment.
“Somebody call an ambulance!”
Sayama was the first to take affirmative action. His voice seemed to break the spell over the office, and everyone started talking at once. Some people went running out of the room, while a few curious students pushed their way in from the corridor to see what was going on.
“I didn’t do anything!” Ootani wailed—not that anybody was listening to her.
Everyone was gawking at Kawahara, collapsed on the floor and covered in her own vomit, and at Toshihiko, who was just standing next to her in a daze. He didn’t move from that spot until the paramedics arrived with a stretcher.
It would be more accurate to say he couldn’t move. He’d been too absorbed in thinking about the last thing Kawahara had said before she collapsed. “I shouldn’t have been so clingy.” Clingy. He couldn’t help drawing a connection between that word and his current stalker problems. Kawahara couldn’t have known about that, could she? Not unless someone close to him like Midori or Sayama had told her.
Toshihiko slipped away from the chaos, asking everyone to give him a minute to himself, and went to the bathroom. After he had a chance to cool off, he realized he was falling into the same trap Hirona had. He was allowing his emotions to interfere with his judgment, making connections where there might not be any. There was no evidence that his stalker and Kawahara’s outburst had anything to do with each other. It was far more rational to assume they were unrelated.
Thinking about the whole thing logically, the most likely explanation was that Kawahara herself was the stalker. She would obviously know about her own criminal activities, and her statement had been an admission of guilt, a way to get it all off her chest.
Even so, Toshihiko found it hard to deny the possibility there was some kind of nonhuman agent at work. He’d used the word clingy to describe the mysterious gaze he felt on him so often; could it be that he was being possessed by something?
He thought of the noise the security cameras had picked up of two hard surfaces rubbing against each other. He thought of the tall woman and the unnatural grinding sound Hirona had encountered. He had also heard the grinding during his visit to Mirei’s house. It didn’t seem like Sayama or Mirei’s mother could hear it, though. The letters and the menstrual pad were tangible, physical pieces of evidence. He’d thought that meant the culprit behind all this was a physical, living person. Had he been wrong?
He felt foolish for having been so determined to start with a scientific approach. He should have taken all the possibilities into account. Who cares about being realistic? he berated himself inside his head. You know there are things in this world that are beyond the understanding of science. You’ve experienced them for yourself! He also knew that those were the kind of things that would quickly get out of hand if left alone too long.
Toshihiko took out his phone and dialed a number. In a situation like this, there was only one person he could call.