“If we keep working together, I’m going to end up wanting to kill anyone who even looks at you. One little slipup, and I won’t be able to hide it anymore.”
Toshihiko had agreed that, given the circumstances, Sayama leaving probably was the best thing. Now that he knew the truth, Toshihiko wasn’t scared anymore, but Sayama’s mysterious power could still be an issue. If he ended up cursing anyone who showed Toshihiko the slightest bit of affection—like what had happened with Mirei and Kawahara—things could get complicated. Even someone as emotionally dense as Toshihiko could see it was better not to take that risk.
Parts of Sayama were still under the dominion of his mother’s illusion, which he’d created. Rumi had said they were likely dealing with an accomplished hexer. She’d also surmised that said hexer might be manifesting his power subconsciously. Both of those predictions had proven true in the end.
Like Aoyama had deduced, the Haruko apparition wasn’t the soul of Haruko Kadowaki back from beyond the grave. Rather, it was something Sayama had created. All the repressed feelings and unresolved trauma he’d been carrying with him had manifested as that fearsome spirit. Sayama himself had no idea until it had been laid out for him.
“I feel so pathetic,” he’d said with a profound look of sorrow on his face. “My life has always centered around my mother. I both loved and hated her more than anyone else. Even after those people told me her spirit never existed, that it was just something I made up, she’s still here with me.”
Rumi said that she’d “cut off access” between Toshihiko and the apparition. He didn’t understand all the details, but his take on it was that the curse that had been clinging to him for so long had been peeled off. But it hadn’t rebounded on the caster, so apparently, the principle of curse reversal hadn’t applied here.
“So, do you not care about me anymore?”
When Toshihiko asked him that, Sayama had dropped his phone. He tried to pick it up but fumbled and dropped it again. With his big, expressive eyes moving around all over the place, his distress was so plain that it was actually quite fun to watch.
“You know I’d never think that…,” he croaked. “I don’t think anyone is capable of not caring about you, Mr. Katayama.”
He remembered Miyoshi telling him something similar. Miyoshi had been a selfish guy, and Toshihiko still couldn’t forgive him for belittling his interests. But his work had helped to save him. Compared with that debt, he could live with the shock of finding out his friend hadn’t been whom he seemed. He was enjoying this cocktail of emotions he was feeling—it was almost as much fun as watching Sayama.
“So I do matter to you. Guess it’s business as usual, then.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“It’s like I said before. You like me, and I’m learning how to act normal from you. We’re basically keeping up the same dynamic as before.”
Sayama raised his voice hysterically.
“I—I don’t understand you at all! Weren’t you listening? I just have to look at you, and I start going crazy.”
His hands were both firmly grasped together. The grinding sound had started, though it was still faint. Sayama seemed to notice, then hung his head in shame.
“See? What did I tell you? It’s happening right now.”
Being the fan of horror and the occult that he was, Toshihiko found Sayama fascinating. He’d always found things that were beyond normal understanding so interesting, so frightening, so very appealing. The Sayama before him now was a mixture of the real Sayama, of his mother as he imagined her, and of his mother’s image of the girl she’d wanted him to be. How wonderful that Rumi hadn’t used her power to erase those extra parts and leave just the core identity behind. He would be so much less charming otherwise.
“Hey, you want to move in with me?”
“What?!”
“If you say no, I’ll probably just stalk you instead. It’ll be a role reversal.”
Sayama once again exclaimed loudly that he didn’t understand how Toshihiko thought. All that stuff about learning how to act normal was simply a pretense. Sayama was very clearly not normal, after all. This whole incident had made him aware of the abnormal power he possessed, and it was only going to cause him more grief from now on.
Aoyama would have taken the time to slowly but surely heal Sayama’s fractured, fragile psyche. If Toshihiko hadn’t butted in, that was probably how this story would have ended. And if that happened, Sayama would one day be freed from his mother’s curse and go on to live a happy life as the man he was always meant to be.
Mononobe would have used his supernatural power without a moment’s thought—and without asking for consent—to seamlessly amalgamate those disparate personae into one. The method would be a bit violent, but the new Sayama would undoubtedly still go on to find his own kind of happiness.
In reality, though, Sayama had been unlucky. He’d been saved by a freak like Toshihiko, who prioritized his own interests over others’ welfare. Toshihiko had finally accepted—or perhaps resigned himself to—his abnormal nature. He still liked the idea of normality, and he didn’t want people he had zero interest in falling in love with him. But next to this fascination he felt now, all that was of secondary importance.
Cohabitation proved to be out of the question, but Toshihiko and Sayama started meeting up three times a week. Sayama’s infatuation seemed to get more intense every time they met. A while back, when Toshihiko had run into his own father and said hi, Sayama had glared at the old man’s retreating form as if he was going to stab him. The sound of his teeth grinding sounded so lovely. Toshihiko would probably get to hear it again when he told him he’d been out drinking with Midori. Imagining it filled him with giddy anticipation.
“One day, this is all going to come back to bite you.”
That was what Aoyama had told him at the conclusion of their adventure. He was probably right, but with so much more entertainment in his life now, Toshihiko couldn’t bring himself to care.