Kurumi and I spent two days preparing to carry out her plan.
We let the summer lessons flow in one ear and out the other, then met up in the clubroom after school.
We discussed the right time to stage the attack as well.
Ultimately, we settled on Saturday morning. Since classes ended before noon, there were fewer teachers around, which meant lower odds of getting caught. We went with early morning because we thought it would be less suspicious if we claimed we’d shown up early to review for the day’s lessons.
We’d decided on a concept, a method, and a time. Fully prepared, we put our plan into action.
I’d been worried about making the severed heads, but to my great relief, Kurumi took care of that at home. I was totally useless when it came to handicrafts.
At last, the big day arrived. We rode the train in, sneaking the mannequin heads onto school grounds in a bag. Then we held one final meeting in the Stargazing Club room.
“The heads are all in order. Natsume, did you buy what I asked for?”
“Yeah, a thirty-centimeter ruler and permanent markers. White ones.”
“Nice. Yep, gotta be white to write on chalkboards.”
“I bought extras, just in case; we can both take two.”
“Roger that. Okay, we’re good to go.”
We each took a deep breath.
“Well, Natsume. Let’s make this a delightful attack.”
We turned to face each other and shared a quick kiss, then left the room.
It was time for action.
Kurumi and I split up and moved from one room to the next, switching out the APPLICATION NOT SUBMITTED header. Using the ruler and the white permanent markers, we wrote HEADS ON PIKES in big letters in its place.
We attached the mannequin heads to the chalkboards in several rooms. We weren’t able to smuggle enough in for every class, but some compromise is inevitable when it comes to that kind of thing.
The act itself went smoothly. We made use of verandas and emergency exits, ensuring our crimes went undetected. Then, when it was done, we split up, and I hid out in the toilet stall, killing time.
When the noise levels in the building started to rise, I headed to class like any other student.
In every room, a crowd had gathered below our graffiti. They were making a bunch of noise, but I didn’t hear anyone saying they’d seen us.
Our first attack of the summer had been a perfect crime.
✦ ✦ ✦
There was no homeroom during summer lessons. And so our attack was discussed during first period instead.
“…I suppose I might as well ask. Do any of you know anything about the graffiti or the creepy dolls?” As soon as class began, the teacher—a shorter woman—looked around Class 2-5. “Or maybe you just heard someone discussing something out of the ordinary. Nobody?”
The students glanced at one another, but no one raised their hand or spoke up. I betrayed nothing myself, and the classroom stayed silent.
“Nothing, huh? Damn. Well, we’re looking for information. Both on this incident and about the festival broadcast. We can’t overlook anything so eerie and ridiculous.”
Like you have principles, I thought. We’re the ones who can’t overlook you.
“If anything comes to mind, speak up,” the teacher continued. “Come talk to one of us in private, if you’re uncomfortable.”
“……”
“What’s wrong with you all? I expect an answer when I speak!”
Reluctantly, the students replied in chorus, “Will do!”
No one had seen me or Kurumi in action. None of our classmates had any information to provide and no clue how to respond to the teacher’s demand.
She sighed dramatically and then glared back at the chalkboard.
“Ugh. What’s all this crap about, anyway?” she muttered, picking up the mannequin head.
What’s it about? Come on. You know full well what we’re mocking. Don’t pretend you don’t.
“…Teacher, is there some kind of writing on the back of that thing?” someone called out, breaking the awkward silence.
Oh, well spotted. As one of the architects, I’m pleased.
“Hmm? Back…where?”
“There, on the nape of the neck. It looks like some kind of quiz.”
“Oh. What the…? A code? No, a problem from the Math II textbook? I can solve it, but…”
Like she said, there was a math code on every mannequin. If you used calculus and sines and cosines to solve it, then good golly, you’d get some letters! A string of words that ultimately meant nothing, that is.
In other words, we’d stuck a cipher with no answer to the backs of their heads. The smarter you thought you were, the deeper the mire. It was a vicious little trick.
It would look like a challenge to the academically inclined, but it wasn’t one. Something like that would be truly pointless. It had no real connection to the Heads on Pikes motif, but I liked the irony of it.
“Has anyone solved it?” asked the teacher. “You’re second-years; we’ve covered this.”
“I’d like to try! Can I get a closer look?”
“You didn’t even do your homework! …Well, the answer looks right, I guess.”
Watching the teacher and my classmates frown over the cipher, I suppressed a smirk. Fret away, you fools.
The teacher scowled away at the mannequin as students began voicing their opinions. Gradually, the discussion moved on to various rumors, and the mood of the classroom began to relax. But just as everyone thought we’d end up wasting the whole class solving this riddle…there was a knock, startling us all.
“Hello, pardon me.”
Someone opened the door without waiting for permission.
I couldn’t have been the only one who gaped. The unexpected intruder was someone quite well-known.
She had almond eyes and intelligent features. She was prettier than most models—tall and slim, but with a big bust for a high schooler. Her gorgeous bluish-black hair was gathered behind her head and flowed smoothly down her back in a straight line.
It was Nana Nanaougi of Class 2-1.
She was the head of our grade and had maintained the highest scores in our year since the day she enrolled. In other words, she was the best student in the best class in Saigou High’s second year.
After a moment’s pause, things started to move.
The teacher frowned at her. “Nanaougi? Why are you here? What do you want? Class is in session.”
“Sorry, sorry, I’m well aware.” Nanaougi brushed the teacher off, not even using polite language consistently. “But I’ve got permission. I’m here to clean up.”
“Clean up? What do you mean?”
“This,” she said, shaking the bottle in her hand.
“What is that?”
“Dehydrated alcohol. From the science lab.”
“Why are you carrying that around? What’s it for?”
“It’s the best way to clean up permanent markers. Mind if I hit up your chalkboard?”
With that, Nanaougi moved over to the Heads on Pikes display, moistened the rag in her other hand, and proceeded to wipe the header clean.
“Nanaougi, will that work?”
“I got it off in the other rooms! Trust me. This won’t take long.”
The white graffiti was already fading. It didn’t come off with a single swipe, but the more she rubbed, the less clear the writing became.
“See? It’s coming right off.”
“So it is… Well, I see you’ve earned your reputation. Thank you.”
Nanaougi flashed the teacher an indomitable grin. “You’re welcome! Oh, and can I have the head as well?”
“Oh, er… Hold on, there’s a note on the back. It might be a message from the culprit—can you solve it? I’d love to have your help…”
“I don’t think it’s a real code. The math problems are easy enough to solve, but it doesn’t seem to come out to the kind of message you all are probably hoping for.”
“Huh? Oh, I see…”
“There’s no use thinking about it. Best to just put it out of your mind.”
With that, Nanaougi plucked the head from the teacher’s hand and tossed it in a big plastic bag she’d left in the hall. There was a whole pile of them—all the heads Kurumi had worked so hard on. Nanaougi had clearly been going from room to room collecting them.
“That should do it,” she said. “And I’m off!”
“R-right,” the teacher stammered. “Thanks again, Nanaougi.”
“Not at all. Oh, Ms. Ookuma, I’ve got something I want to chat about with you a bit later.”
“Oh? With me? Very well. Is it a study question…?”
“More or less. I’ll explain later. Keep working hard, everybody!” she said, shooting the class a wink.
This was clearly directed at the whole room, but it felt like her eyes momentarily met mine. I’d never once spoken to Nanaougi, so I was sure it was a coincidence. But it felt like a meaningful coincidence.
It was hard to say anything for sure… But she’d just wiped away our whole crime, and I had to admit, I didn’t really care for her.