Time didn’t change the feeling of distance between people. Recently, Kanbara had strung Mio along and manipulated her constantly. Her feelings for him had changed distinctly each day over the course of seventy-two hours. And with each shift, she was powerless to return to the way things had been before.
She recalled how Hanaka had laughed silently. “Kanbara-senpai’s super hot, and he seems really dedicated,” she’d said, and Mio had joined in. “You think so?”
They were supposed to be friends.
What had Hanaka really been thinking at that moment?
“I’m going to visit Kanbara’s home,” said Mr. Minamino.
“I’ll join you,” Hanaka’s mother added.
The teacher instructed the girls to go back to the classroom.
“Since there’s a lot we still don’t know about Hanaka, please don’t go telling other people about this. She might return out of the blue, and it’d be a shame if there was a big controversy waiting to greet her.” Mr. Minamino tried to be as cheerful as he could, but it made listening difficult. The hope in his voice caused Hanaka’s mother to cover her face.
Between her fingers, she whimpered, “Hanaka…”
From the counseling room to the classroom, Saho kept her head down. It didn’t seem like she was holding her silence for Mio’s sake. Rather, she simply lacked the words to describe her feelings. The pair weren’t ready to reenter class yet, so they wandered to a more out-of-the-way location, the emergency stairs.
There was a sniffle. Saho was tearing up. When she noticed Mio watching, she apologized. “I’m sorry, Mio. You’re probably the one who really wants to cry, but I’m stealing your thunder.”
“…It’s all right.”
Mio didn’t know what was all right. She offered her handkerchief to Saho, who dabbed at her eyes.
“I wonder if Hanaka took not having a boyfriend a lot harder than we realized,” Saho continued, almost to herself. “But it’s still wrong.” Her voice got stronger. There was audible anger. “You can’t just go and take someone else’s boyfriend. It’s the lowest thing you can do. It’s just not right.”
Saho was so sweet and naive. Kanbara would probably call this righteous, truthful criticism hypocritical or self-serving or something. Mio grappled with the thought, but swept it out of her head before it controlled her.
I’m back in the normal world, where you can shed tears of frustration for your friend. I don’t want anyone to speak ill of Saho’s righteousness and kindness.
But no matter what either of them said, Hanaka was gone.
In the same way that Kanbara had repeatedly attacked and preyed on Mio’s weakness of spirit, there was a darkness in Hanaka’s mind that had served as a shortcut to her spirit, too.
Perhaps that shadow was a desire to get back at her friends and show them up.
What had gone through her mind the day she brushed at that long ponytail of hers?
Saho felt unwell, so Mio walked her to the nurse’s office. Mio told her friend it might be best if she went home early, then returned to the classroom alone.
Shiraishi was already in his seat.
This came as a relief, because Mio had thought he might up and vanish along with Kanbara and Hanaka. His presence gave her confidence.
“…Kaname,” she called. Why did she choose to call him by his first name? Even much later, she couldn’t explain her decision. Whatever the reason, it came very naturally in the moment.
Because it was such an unfamiliar form of address and because no one in class had bothered to speak to him since the first day, Kaname Shiraishi’s head shot up. Mio’s initial impression of him was unchanged: It was hard to tell what was happening behind those empty eyes.
However, they didn’t frighten her anymore. If anything, their calm, unknowable manner was a source of strength she wanted to cling to.
Mr. Minamino didn’t enter class after the bell. He was probably still talking with Hanaka’s mother. He wouldn’t be back for a while.
“They said Kanbara-senpai has disappeared,” Mio told him, loud enough to make it clear she didn’t care if the other students overheard. A tiny bit of life entered Kaname’s eyes. It was so subtle that Mio would have missed it had she not been watching closely.
“If you’re going to search for him, take me with you.”
Kaname’s eyes widened a bit. Previously, his expressions had always been of annoyance or exhaustion. This was different. He silently stared back at Mio with something reminiscent of interest.
He likely had already known that Hanaka had disappeared with Kanbara. Mio’s news elicited no visible surprise.
He watched her, and she gazed back.
It wasn’t perfectly clear what Kaname was after, or what he was doing. Maybe he intended to leave this school now that Kanbara was gone. However, he was the only connection Mio had to the prospect of finding Hanaka, no matter how slim. Losing Kaname would mean it was all over.
“It’s sexual harassment.” That was what Hanaka had said of Kaname’s actions. Mio had claimed it wasn’t sexual, but she had agreed it was some kind of harassment. A string of activities that demonstrated no respect for personal space, imposing personal circumstances and desires on a victim with no regard for their needs. At this point, she realized that it wasn’t Kaname but Itta Kanbara who had subjected her to that kind of harassment.
Kaname had said they tried to foist their darkness on others.
It was true that when Kanbara ordered Mio to do this and that, there was a darkness in his eyes. When she peered into that inky blackness, she’d found a world where common sense held no sway. That feeling had exuded from every inch of Kanbara’s body like an aura.
A new word popped into Mio’s mind.
Yami-hara.
“Dark harassment”—taking the darkness in one’s heart and spreading it everywhere, forcing it on others and dragging them down with you. The shadow deep in his mind and eyes seeped out into the world. His actions could be called yami-hara.
“…sterday.”
The whisper brought Mio back to the present. Kaname repeated himself.
“They say an unidentified male body was discovered in the mountains of Mie Prefecture yesterday.”
Mio was taken aback. What was he talking about?
“I think it’s Itta Kanbara,” he added.
Mio gasped, her breath catching in her throat. She recalled Kanbara’s bloodied, lacerated face.
Kaname stared right at her and asked, “Why do you want to come with me?”
Clearly, it was just a habit of his to reveal crucial information at the most abrupt and unexpected of times.
Mio replied, “Because I’m worried about Hanaka.”
If that feeling was hypocritical, then so be it.
Call it altruism.
If kindness was a weakness, then Mio preferred to be weak. It was better than losing a part of herself. She wouldn’t let anyone take that away. There was no need to change.
Concern, a feeling of responsibility, my fault—and thus, a preemptive apology.
If she was doing all this to protect herself rather than out of a true sense of kindness, then fine.
“I’m Hanaka’s friend,” Mio insisted.
Call me an honor student if you must. I do think she betrayed me, but my feelings are genuine.
“So take me with you.”
There was a pause.
Several moments later, Kaname finally spoke.
“All right.”