ch41-ch60 · 059-ch58

Chapter 58

"Sorry for pushing you into it, but if it doesn't work out, you can't just take it back, Kawai-chan."

The one who spoke to Kawai Sakiho — who'd ended the call and was sighing while confirming the address sent to her mobile — was Sadoyama Koji.

She'd been on the phone with Hayasaka Toru in the parking lot after leaving the building, and since Sadoyama had also returned to the parking lot, his business must be done.

"Well... yes, sir. Sadoyama Section Chief, you're heading to the airport, right...?"

"No, I'm going home to sleep for now. Even if I go to greet them, they're all the kind who don't keep appointment times anyway. Everyone thinks their own work is the most important in the world. Disgusting, isn't it — the inability to respect others."

As he spoke, he took a cigarette from his suit's inner pocket and was about to put it in his mouth, but glanced at Sakiho briefly and put it away.

"...I don't mind if you smoke."

"That's fine. I'll smoke in the car. You got through to Hayasaka-kun, right?"

"Yes, sir. Though he suspected whether I was the real Kawai Sakiho."

"Well, your past self was pretty terrible."

Sadoyama said it casually with a wry smile, and Sakiho wanted to return the same sort of wry smile, but couldn't. Her shame and discomfort were too strong to joke about.

"Um... Sadoyama Section Chief. Thank you for everything until now. I think I must have caused you nothing but trouble."

"That's not really true. There were two other permanent staff members at Sugai Dungeon, right? They barely showed up. I heard the chief clerk hadn't visited the Sugai Dungeon branch in over a year. And besides — if we're going to talk about it, a subordinate's mistakes are the superior's responsibility, right? It's my fault."

"Hahaha" — another wry laugh.

There were no words to be found anywhere in her heart to respond with.

◇◇◇

After parting with Sadoyama in the parking lot, she walked aimlessly, caught a taxi, and went to Hayasaka Toru's home.

From near the prefectural office, it took about forty minutes by car, so the fare was fairly painful for Sakiho's finances, but it couldn't be helped. She didn't have many hobbies besides watching streams, so she had more savings than average for her age.

Though — those savings would probably just keep decreasing.

Hayasaka Toru's apartment building was considerably aged in appearance, the kind of property that might reach the end of its useful life in another five years. A two-story building with an iron staircase attached to the outside, each unit's door visible from the exterior.

Sakiho took a quick look around, confirmed with the map on her mobile that this was indeed the destination, then climbed the stairs and rang the intercom at Hayasaka Toru's door. The walls were thin enough that she could hear the "ping-pong" sound from inside.

"...He's still not home, huh."

After waiting a while with no answer, that seemed to be the case. Come to think of it, she'd come straight here without bringing any kind of gift. But she didn't know what she should have brought in a situation like this.

If there had been a café nearby she could have killed time at, but the closest thing was a convenience store about a ten-minute walk away — it was an inconveniently located suburban residential area. There might have been a shopping street here once, but probably not anymore.

Just as she sighed, she noticed it had started to rain.

She didn't have an umbrella, so she couldn't move now. The entrance area of the apartment had a sort of eave, so as long as the wind didn't blow, the rain wouldn't reach her. Sakiho made up her mind and sat down in front of Hayasaka Toru's door.

When she'd called him, he'd been at the point where he'd be coming out of the dungeon in about thirty minutes — she thought. Probably.

From Sugai Dungeon to this apartment, fifteen minutes by car. From the building where Sasamori had been held near the prefectural office, it had taken forty minutes by taxi. Time-wise, she shouldn't have to wait that long.

Listening to the raindrops pattering down, Sakiho felt a dull weight settling in her lower abdomen. It wasn't the physical discomfort of her period or anything. This heavy feeling — she felt like she'd experienced it somewhere before...

After thinking for a while, she remembered.

Back in middle school, she'd stayed after school with a group of friends, messing around, and they'd broken some equipment. A boy who got carried easily was punching another boy's shoulder, and she'd been laughing, thinking how stupid they were. Then the boy who'd been punched deliberately pretended to be sent flying, overdid it, and crashed into a locker.

A projector that had been sitting on top of the locker fell and broke.

The cheerful, laughing atmosphere froze in an instant, and a few seconds later, the blame-shifting began. In the end, they put the broken projector back on top of the locker, and Sakiho and the others ran away without reporting it to anyone. The boy who'd been doing the punching put on a brave face saying it was no big deal, and somehow — she forgot how the conversation went — they concluded among themselves that it was the fault of whoever left it in that spot.

Three days later, the incident came to light, and the two boys were scolded. Sakiho and the others had been there too, but they weren't particularly reprimanded.

But during those three days — no, for a while afterward too, she'd had that dull, heavy feeling in her stomach, like something unpleasant.

"Ah... that's called guilt, isn't it."

She hadn't felt it at all when she was falsely accusing Hayasaka Toru. But thinking back carefully, she felt like there had been several times after that too, when she should have felt guilt. At some point — she really didn't know when — she'd somehow forgotten that kind of pain and lived on.

"A complete piece of trash..."

A woman who'd watched 'Anthem' dedicate their lives to the public, been captivated by their brilliance, and supported them — was complete trash.

It wasn't funny.

Because, without realizing it, Sakiho had been degrading the very value of the things she'd thought were "wonderful." She was truly glad that Saito Megumi and the others would never know that someone like her had been supporting them. But that wasn't okay at all. This trash of a woman was sitting in front of the house of a man she'd inconvenienced without feeling an ounce of guilt, hugging her knees, half-crying.

She didn't deserve to.

And yet — she'd decided to do this, and she had no intention of stopping.

When exactly had she become like this?

It wasn't like there'd been some special tragedy. She'd gotten a job at city hall through connections, and when her uncle — the connection — was caught in corruption, she was transferred to the Sugai Dungeon labyrinth branch. But she hadn't lost her job, and her salary hadn't gone down.

In the first place, if she was dissatisfied, she should have just quit.

Instead, she'd just wasted time, subtly holding Hayasaka Toru back the entire time.

Her stomach hurt.

Even that pain felt like proof of her cowardice, making her more and more depressed. Hugging her knees, lowering her head, listening to the sound of raindrops — she thought about how, not so long ago, if she'd seen someone like this, she'd have thought "they'd be better off dead."

There's no value in living.

Better off dead.

But she didn't want to die. Now she understood. She couldn't casually say someone was better off dead — not after seeing that 'Giant Serpent.' In the moment, she hadn't thought that far. But now that she'd survived, she did think about it.

She didn't want to die. She really didn't want to die. She'd survived. Survived like a miracle. She'd been saved.

"It's another different woman...!"

Suddenly, a voice.

The tone was childish, and Sakiho looked up, thinking a child might be playing in the rain. The speaker was right in front of her.

A mother and child — cat beast-people.

Their animal ears were on top of their heads rather than at the sides, and their tails extended from just above the hips. She remembered hearing from a dog beast-person classmate in high school that beast-person clothes had holes for tails, and dog beast-people had it harder with fashion because their tail holes had to be bigger, and that they tended to choose clothes with longer hemlines to hide the base of their tails.

The child was probably early elementary school age. Her hair, grown out to an uneven length, was messy, but her facial features were well-defined enough that it just looked like a deliberate hairstyle.

Standing beside her, holding the child's hand, the mother gave off an impression of someone who'd been in nightlife entertainment, originally a gyaru. It was a pretty rude prejudice, but that's how she looked, so it couldn't be helped.

After all, she was wearing hot pants, a tube top, and a jacket whose hem barely reached mid-belly, with distinct curves to her body lines. Her wavy hair was bleached lighter only at the tips, she had bracelets on her wrists, ankle-strap sandals on her feet, and glittery pedicure on her cat beast-person-typical pointed nails.

"Hey, so like, are you an acquaintance of the guy who lives there? We live next door, and I'm just wondering if you need something?"

The mother said.

It wasn't suspicion, wariness, or anything with ulterior motives — just a simple question.

"Ah... yes. I'm sorry. It seems he doesn't know when he'll be back, so I was waiting in front of his place. Um... it looks suspicious, doesn't it...?"

"Can you say the name of the person who lives there?"

Another straightforward question, still without ulterior motives. The daughter was glaring at Sakiho with a sullen face, but there was a hint of concern in it too. Probably a good kid.

"Hayasaka Toru-san."

"Okey-dokey. Well then, wait at our place. You that guy's woman?"

"No! N-No, it's nothing like that...!"

"Ahaha. No need to deny it so desperately. Toru's a good guy. Hard to read, though. So if you're not his woman, what's your relationship?"

She said this while opening the door to the neighboring house — well, her house — as if it were the most natural thing. Surprised by her attitude, as if Sakiho coming inside was a given, Sakiho stood up, feeling it would be rude to stay sitting.

"Um... I worked at the... Sugai Dungeon branch front desk... where Hayasaka-san worked until recently. I came today to talk to Hayasaka-san."

"Look, I'm not an interviewer here. Just come in already. Sit around there and you'll get wet eventually. Your ass'll get cold too."

She grinned with a boyish smile.

Sakiho felt slightly saved — and that bit of salvation only made the pain in her stomach worse. If this woman knew what kind of person she was, she'd despise her too. She was the kind of person who deserved to be despised by kind people like this.

"If you sit there the whole time, Toru'll worry. Come in."

The daughter said, gripping Sakiho's hand tightly.

It was a small, warm hand.

◇◇◇

The cat beast-person mother was Shenna Sharyi Sonoyama.

Her daughter was Mika Sharyi Sonoyama.

Shenna had been born after the World Fusion, spent her early childhood in the era of the 'Chain Dungeon Rampage,' lost her parents, was deceived by various bad people, then those bad people were fed to other bad people, and as she drifted from place to place, she became pregnant and gave birth to Mika. Now she worked as a so-called cabaret club hostess.

The apartment was a 1LDK, not as old as the exterior suggested. The kitchen did show its age, but the kitchen space itself was larger than more recent apartments, though the sound of the ventilation fan was a bit loud.

"Hey, you're that woman, right? The one who tried to frame Toru? I've heard about the Sugai Dungeon branch front desk."

Standing in the kitchen, preparing that evening's dinner, Shenna said in a completely unaffected tone. Sakiho, who had shrunk herself while sitting on the floor near the small living room table, could only tremble.

"Toru's enemy?"

Mika glared at Sakiho with a sharp look.

"No... not anymore. To begin with, I was never even Toru's enemy. I was just a nuisance, an obstacle..."

"Mmph?"

Perhaps because Sakiho was so obviously dejected, Mika tilted her head in confusion. The fact that she hesitated to strike someone who was down, even if they were a bad person, was a sign of a good heart. Shenna must be a proper mother.

...But, thinking about it, Sakiho didn't think her own mother was a bad person. She was a decent mother, and her father was also an ordinary, good father.

"Aha, I see how it is! That guy became 'Worksite-bro' and started kicking ass, so your position got awkward, huh? Came to apologize?"

She laughed, but there was so little malice in it.

It felt more like light teasing, without contempt — or so Sakiho felt.

"Coming to apologize might not be quite right. I do intend to apologize. I do want to apologize. But I don't think Hayasaka-san wants that kind of thing..."

"Yeah, probably. Toru's probably not interested in the act of apologizing itself. It's like he doesn't see value in making someone apologize. When Mika broke his cup, he just said 'if you feel bad about it, that's enough.'"

"Toru sucks at being nice, but he's kind."

Mika puffed out her chest proudly, looking incredibly cute.

But Sakiho had absolutely no image of Hayasaka Toru being friendly with a little girl... she understood they were neighbors, but what kind of relationship was this exactly?

"Um... you're close with Hayasaka-san, right...?"

"Ah, yeah. When I'm working, I leave Mika with him pretty often. Mika liked Toru from the very first time she met him, and I trust Toru too. It's supposed to be a give-and-take relationship, but honestly it feels more like we're the ones leaning on him. I'd totally pay him back with my body, but that guy has zero interest in this body of mine."

"Nyahaha" — Shenna laughed, in a way that seemed cat-like and probably deliberate. Sakiho wasn't quite sure whether she should laugh along or not.

"Mom, you're not allowed to make a move on Toru."

"I'm not gonna! I don't sleep with friends."

"But Toru... lately, he's been busy. Tia's always attached to him. Yesterday a weird elf came. Today a weird ojou-sama came. Their voices were loud. And now Sakiho came too."

Nothing but women.

Mika looked dejected, and Sakiho had no words to offer her.

"That guy's got some kind of woman trouble aura going on, huh?"

"Woman trouble?"

"Means having a hard time because of women."

"Mom, do you have man trouble?"

"...Mika. Sometimes the truth hurts people."

"But because of Mom's man trouble, I was born. I got to meet Mom. Maybe man trouble was a good thing."

"Hehehehehe! Mika, sometimes the truth makes people happy too!"

"I like making Mom happy."

"Mom loves Mika more than anything too!"

"I don't like Mom so much when she's drunk and smells like alcohol."

"Sorry about that."

Even when Sakiho stayed silent, the atmosphere didn't grow dark. Shenna and Mika chatted happily, and soon a nostalgic smell drifted through the air.

Sakiho cooked for herself, but she hadn't made this in a long time... the smell of curry.

An intense wave of homesickness filled her chest, and if she hadn't held back, she might have cried.

When she was a child, her parents had truly loved her. She was the cutest girl in the world to her mom and dad. And now... she was complete trash...

How had she become this kind of person?

It wasn't that she'd made some big mistake somewhere. She probably kept making tiny, tiny mistakes, over and over.

If asked whose fault it was — it was her own. And if she said it without fear of misunderstanding — it was society's fault. That was honestly how she felt.

Sakiho had never been interested in what was right or good. She'd felt dazzled by people who accumulated good deeds like Anthem, but she'd thought of it as someone else's business, since they were strong.

Because people who did the right thing always came out on the losing end.

If you tried to do good, some sarcastic asshole would get in the way. That was uncool. Annoying. Why bother? Everyone else was doing the same. In fact, it just got in everyone's way. It was the same at school. The same in society. Only the sly and dirty rode the winning horse, while the serious, diligent good people always drew the short straw.

It had always been that way. Everywhere. The people who did things properly always seemed to get gradually hurt by the world. The people who forced goodness on others on social media didn't seem to be accumulating any good deeds themselves, and the people who grandly criticized others showed no sign of ever drawing the short straw themselves.

That was wrong.

But the world was shaped that way.

Then — it was fine for her to be wrong too.

There was no excuse.

It was probably just that.

The desire to apologize to everything 'good' in this world, and the urge to flip off the 'complete trash' who was just like her — they swirled in her chest, making her feel like she might laugh.

But she couldn't laugh.