Hyouka LN Chapter 67 What The Mirror Can't Reflect

It all began on a Sunday.

I was out buying something that day. The tip of the G pencil I had been carefully using had finally reached its limit. I intended to stock up on carbon paper, and had also been stricken with a sudden, inexplicable desire to purchase a brand new compass. After visiting the general store I always went to, I made my way to the electronics store. I had started thinking about drawing on a computer, and so I decided to go and take a look at the prices. Even though my parents had an unused one at home, the computer's storage space was too small, making it unsuitable for art.

Though everyone said that the cost of computers was always dropping, my allowance was still too little for me to afford one. If I were to include a tablet to complete the set, there was no way that I could pay for all that. Fuku-chan might know of ways to make it cheaper, but even if the price was halved, I still couldn't afford it all. There went my hopes of advancing into the digital age -– as my ambition and I began to leave the store, a familiar face appeared in front of me.

"Well, if it isn't Ibara? Long time no see!"

Although they managed to recognise me straightaway, it took me a while longer to reciprocate the gesture. It was my middle school classmate, Ikehira. Because she had dyed her hair and was wearing make-up, I couldn't tell who she was at first.

In middle school, Ikehira had always made an effort to get along with everyone in class, and she hadn't been a flashy person. I felt that she had changed since then, and it wasn't due to the coloured hair or the make-up.

"Ah, long time no see." I waved as I spoke. I wouldn't call us close friends, but our relationship wasn't sour by any means She was a normal friend I just happened to be classmates with in my third year of middle school. But, as expected, seeing her after such a long time made me nostalgic.

"What're you doing?"

"I was thinking about buying a computer."

"Woah~? Which kind?"

"They're too expensive here, so I'll probably decide next time."

"Right? It's all too expensive, huh!"

Ikehira gave an exaggerated reply before looking at my shopping bag.

"What did you buy then?"

"Um, it's…"

The moment I was hit with this unforeseen question, I was at a loss for words. I'd kept my manga-drawing a secret from my middle school classmates. The only people who knew about it were Fuku-chan, Oreki, and a few good friends. It wasn't a bad hobby, but if someone found out about it, more often than not, they'd ask, "can I take a look?'. That was just too embarrassing.

"Stationery."

It wasn't a lie.

Despite the dull reply, Ikehira nodded with an easygoing expression.

"Oh, of course. You were always a smart one, Ibara."

If these words had been said back in middle school, they would have contained a lot of hidden feelings. When the jealousy towards good grades mixed with the inferiority of poor grades, there was bound to be an indescribable dejection.

However, Ikehira's voice was light and indifferent. There was no need for me to be apprehensive anymore. Though I didn't consider myself all that smart, my high school was more difficult to enter than Ikehira's - being modest now would just invite contempt. It had already been over a year since middle school graduation, and yet, here we were, having a natural conversation. Perhaps we'd matured a bit since then.

There was still the issue of my shopping bag containing things that weren't for school work, but instead, special 'stationery'. I felt like I had lied, and was somewhat guilty as I asked,

"What did you buy, Ikehira?"

"Oh. Initially, I wanted to get a video camera, but the price is 1000 yen more than what I expected."

"A video camera?"

"Yeah!" Her tone perked up. "I'm playing in a band now, you know? But, my technique sucks. So, I decided to record myself while practicing. I'm pretty hardworking, aren't I?"

I laughed in response. If we were to talk about drawing manga, there were countless people who'd blithely say "I want to draw" and yet never put in time to practice. Compared to those people, Ikehira was indeed hardworking.

"What do you play?"

"Bass. But, our lead singer left us…."

As she said this, Ikehira's expression suddenly brightened.

"That's right! Ibara, you're good at singing! Have you joined a club?"

How did this become the topic?!

I'm good at singing? Where had this misconception come from? The only reason I could think of was that I had been the conductor for the choir once. That was only because no one else had been willing to do it.

I hastily replied, "Yes, yes, I have. I'm so busy after school that I don't even have time to rest at home. Also, I've never been good at singing."

"Ah? Really? Is it a sports club?"

"Nope. It's a literary club. You know some of the other members too."

"Oh? Who?"

"There's Fukube… and Oreki," I said, mentioning their names casually.

As I spoke, Ikehira raised her eyebrows in shock. It was too late to regret it –

"Oreki? That guy's there too?" Ikehira retorted with scorn.

Then, she seemed to misunderstand, because she spoke with worry in her voice, "So that's how it is… Oreki's around too. That's just super unlucky."

"Ah. Mm."

Ikehira stepped closer, lowering her volume to speak softly. "Although I don't know what club this is… if he gets too… you know… you should just kick him out. I can't do anything to help you, but I'm sure there must be someone who'll lend you a hand."

Swallowing down the words in my throat, I could only give a silent nod.

After that, we exchanged a few more words before bidding each other farewell. On the way home, my thoughts couldn't help but drift to Oreki.

Ikehira's response wasn't an overreaction. That year, the third years of Kaburaya Middle School had all had a reason for despising Oreki.

Or, to phrase it more accurately, the graduating students had all had a reason to despise him.

I hadn't forgotten what had happened back then. But…

I could still feel Ikehira's harsh, chilling response as I plodded along. That incident must have occurred right around graduation but, as I recalled, it hadn't been in January or February. My memory was a little hazy, but it seemed to have happened at the end of November.

There was a tradition in Kaburarya Middle School. Every year, the class of graduating students would have to create a graduation piece.

Because every cohort did something different, a lot of ideas had already been used over the last ten years. The seniors who had graduated last year had done 'tree-planting'. One sapling was passed down through all the two hundred or so graduating students, transferred from one student to the next until it reached the last person, who then planted it in the soil. This was the 'graduation piece' from the entire year, which was honestly a shallow* effort.

I don't know how we came to a decision on what to do. I suppose that the school's office had been in charge of it since the project had involved an expenditure of money. After reflecting on what had happened in the previous year, and our graduating class resolved to make something that was more like a proper 'graduation piece'.

"Our final decision is a big mirror. How does that sound?"

When the class chairperson, Sajima-san, announced this, frustration descended across the entire room. No one had ever thought about making a mirror, nor was there anyone who knew how to.

Sajima-san's face always got red easily. At that moment, he must have been flushed as he explained, "I mean, we want to make a frame for a big mirror."

Hearing that, we finally got the idea.

We would create a decorative wooden frame for a two meter tall mirror. Each class would be in charge of one portion of the wood carving. When it was done, the mirror and its decorative frame would be left in Kaburaya Middle School, to forever shine down upon our juniors.

If you were to ask me whether this idea was good or bad, I'd say it was a bad choice. Even though it was better than nothing, it was useless and it felt like after a few years, it would unfortunately become the subject of ghost stories.

With that decided, the first step of the actual project was for everyone to design it.

"Class 2's Takasu-san will be in charge of the design."

Once I heard this, I understood the reason behind the decision. Ami Takasu-san had won the silver prize in the city's art competition. She had also designed the mascot for the sports fair all by herself. She probably had the most expertise in drawing in our entire year.

Takasu-san's design was divided into ten parts, which were evenly distributed to each of the five classes. Each class would then be responsible for dividing the work and carving out their segment.

Once every part was pieced back together, it would be successfully completed.

This didn't seem to ask for too much time and effort. During that period, we also had to prepare for our high school entrance exams. Up until December, it felt like we were readying ourselves for battle. Everyone must have thought the same way – if the idea was too troublesome, we wouldn't be able to do it. No one voiced their disagreement, and so, we began working on our graduation project.

Takasu-san's design had an orthodox taste to it - trailing grape vines wound around the middle of the frame, stalks of vines and leaves covered everything, and fruits hung from the curve of a branch in rich clusters , creating a lush image. Some parts had been embellished with ladybugs and butterflies, while a few birds hovered at others.

Though I say all this, in actual fact, I had only seen the full design after the project had been finished. At the start, we only received wooden squares that were ten centimetres in length and the design of the section we were in charge of.

Our group had been allocated the design for the left side of the mirror. Sajima had told us that the mirror's top and bottom had very detailed designs, whereas the right and left portions were less so. Hence, we held a discussion and decided that the group who was in charge of a top or bottom part would carve out a single section, whereas the groups doing the right and left parts would have to work on two wooden pieces.

Of the two parts we were assigned, one depicted coiling vines and luscious, flourishing leaves. This was considered one of the easier sections. However, the other piece's design showed a bird pecking at the grapes growing on a vine.

The boys in the group had grumbled:

"Why're we the only ones carving a bird, huh?"

"Everyone else just needs to carve out vines. How are we gonna' do this?"

Even though these words were off-putting, they had a point. My group's design had been more demanding than any of the others. Their argument that the workload wasn't being distributed evenly was indeed true.

But–

"– No one said it was going to be fair, did they?"

This rebuttal was just as valid. I was usually the one who said these things.

Once they heard this, the boys quieted down. When they realised that they didn't need to do the work themselves, they must have begun celebrating secretly in their hearts. The complex design, tight schedule, and looming exams – taking into account all these factors, leaving this job to the boys who had no experience with carving would be taking too big a risk.

Previously, Fuku-chan had said that what I valued the most was 'impartiality'. Because I didn't like to talk about myself, I had ignored his words back then. However, thinking about it now, it was obvious that Fuku-chan really did understand me.

But when faced with the unequal job allocation for the graduation project, the only thing I could do was to accept it.

Fortunately, I was considered quite adept at carving and Mishima, a girl from the Fine Arts club, was also in the group. Her specialty was actually in etching, but she was still more skilful than me at carving. The two wooden squares were a piece of cake to the both of us – though, admittedly, our studies did suffer a little during the process.

Mishima and I had never really chatted before that. Though I might be speaking out of turn, Mishima was the sort of person who kept herself guarded and closed off from others. Be that as it may, in the ten days we worked together to finish the graduation project, I felt that we had exchanged our share of secrets with one another. She learned of my dream to become a manga artist, at any rate. Mishima didn't tease me about it, nor did she tell me I could do it without a second thought. She just smiled and said "It'll be tough."

The bird had been carved by Mishima. At the time, I hadn't known what type of bird it was. I'd asked:

"Is it a swallow?"

"I think so."

"Alright, then it is."

We started referring to it as a swallow after this brief conversation. Thinking about it now though, it might have been a hummingbird.

For me at least, making that graduation piece was a good memory.

There had also been one minor dispute that wasn't worth mentioning. During the final stages of our carving, one of the boys who had never come to lend a hand suddenly complained:

"You know, the talented people are the ones monopolizing this whole project. If this was meant for us to make memories, then there's no point having the people with no skills participate."

I remember that this was what he'd said.

Why hadn't you said that earlier, then? You even chose to wait till the last moment to bring it up. I had a lot of things I wanted to say. Also, I used to be even more blunt than how I was now.

"Are you stupid?"

That was probably the only thing I'd said to him.

And so, we finished carving the two wooden pieces without a hitch. The portion that I had carved wasn't as good as Mishima's, but it was still rather identical to the original design. I was satisfied.

The other groups completed their own carvings one after another. The winding and curling grapevines, the single, large grape that took up more than half of the space on the board, each and every piece gradually came together.

Finally, the day to submit the fruits of our labour had arrived.

The problem had happened on that day as well. … The group that had kept pushing back finishing their part of the frame had handed up something that caused everyone's jaw to drop.

That group had been responsible for the design of the bottom half of the mirror. In Takasu-san's design, the vines were meant to hang down abruptly and then curve back up a little. A horizontal tree branch was supposed to be placed where the vine had begun to hang down. Even though it would be difficult to make the dangling vine look natural, compared to our 'swallow', it was considered a much easier task.

Despite that, on the wooden board they had handed over, there was only one pencil-straight, horizontal vine. No, you couldn't even tell that it was supposed to be a vine. An extremely shabby-looking stick had been carved into the middle of the board.

This carving hadn't followed the design at all. It was a product of slacking off. As I recalled, when Sajima-san received it, his face reddened and his voice rang out with fury.

"What the hell is this? Why didn't you tell us you couldn't do it – why does it look completely different from the design?!"

On the other hand, the boy who had handed in the wooden board was unmoved.

"Because it was too troublesome to go up and down," he had said.

This had been Oreki's part in the graduation piece.

There was no time to redo the carving. The mirror's frame had to be completed before the mirror itself could be purchased. There was no helping it. Oreki's carving had to be included in the frame.

I had also helped to put the frame together. This had been done in the gym. We had to spread newspapers over the floor before starting our work. Once the newspapers had covered enough area, we placed all the pieces carved by each class on top of it. Because every board had a corresponding number assigned to it, we just had to follow the numbers and piece them all together.

Once every segment had been placed perfectly, we had to stick them together with adhesive. The adhesive was very strong, making it a little hazardous. Because of this, the task was left to the teacher. Wearing gloves and using a brush, the teacher bent over and glued the wooden boards together piece by piece. The students who had helped to sort the pieces out stood aside and quietly watched him. During the winter, the days were very short. I remembered that at the time, the sky had already turned black. It might have been snowing too.

At last, the teacher finished applying the adhesive. He slowly straightened his back and said,

"Alright. It's done."

As we weren't allowed to move around while the glue was still drying, we stood in our places and sized up the mirror frame left on the newspapers. Before then, I felt that we hadn't needed so many people to put everything together.

But, I thought that all the students that had been there in the gym must have felt a sense of achievement that went beyond words. I heard a few boys beside me talking about it.

"It's not that bad."

"Yeah."

Honestly, for something made by a bunch of middle-schoolers, the mirror frame was pretty good.

In the finished product, the parts that Mishima and I had been in charge of stood out. It didn't matter if this praise had come from me. I was completely contented with how it looked. Our part stood head and shoulders above all the segments surrounding it. It was exceptionally good.

However, there were also parts out of the ten wooden boards that hadn't been done well. They had been crudely put together - some vines looked shoddy because they had been carved too thin, and at other sections, the leaves hadn't been connected to the vines, making it seem as if the leaves were floating. However, there was no question that the "stick" Oreki had carved was the sloppiest.

Still, I could relax a little now. It was true that if someone were to try to connect all the curves of the art piece together, the only ugly aspect was Oreki's straight vine. However, this small section wasn't that big of a flaw when you saw the entire frame. Luckily, Oreki's wooden board was on the lower part of the mirror, so it was quite inconspicuous, and the grapevines were all joined from left to right to begin with. As such, hopefully, nobody was going to say that "only Class 5 slacked off".

Because it would take two or three days for the glue to dry, we had done all we could that day. Afterwards, when we had cleaned up the newspapers and were about to dismiss ourselves, Takasu-san came into the gym.

Even though I knew of the famous Takasu-san, we had never been in the same class and so I hadn't been able to put a face to the name. Originally, in my imagination, Takasu-san had the slender figure of an artist. I wouldn't have guessed that she had such a sharp and hardened face. I only realised that the girl was Takasu was I heard one of the helpers whisper, "Oh, it's Takasu-san."

She wasn't alone, but was accompanied by three girls who seemed to be her friends. She shouted at one of the helpers, asking:

"How is it? Is it done?"

Her tone was unbelievably flippant. I couldn't help but feel a wave of discomfort wash over me. I wasn't able to draw the connection between the dignified design of the grapevines that had grabbed everyone's attention, and her laughter. They seemed to have come from two separate people.

The group of four chattered and laughed as they approached the mirror frame.

I had thought that the finished product would make Takasu-san happy. Even if there were some less well done parts, no one could expect something that was made by the entire cohort to be perfect. And even though we didn't replicate Takasu-san's design down to a tee, I felt that the result was a compromise that suited the range of all our abilities. The rest of the students who had helped to put the frame together had all fallen into complete silence.

However, the moment Takasu-san saw the carving, the smile on her face instantly froze.

"Um…"

A chill ran down my spine when her expression changed. Watching her face darken, I learned what the phrase "losing all spirit" meant. Following that, she suddenly swayed on her feet.

Takasu-san raised her arm, pointing at one part of the carving.

"What… what happened here?!"

The section she was pointing at was Oreki's half-assed work. Takasu-san's bawling voice resounded through the gym.

"What happened? Why is it like that?! This is going too far! Don't joke with me! It's really too much!"

Seeing her become hysterical, the three girls immediately went over to comfort her. They kept saying things like "What's the matter?" and "Calm down, okay?".

However, in the end, Takasu-san cried. She covered her face, and the next instant was already choking out sobs. Having reached their wits' end, the girls turned around and snapped at the helpers:

"What's the meaning of this? Who did this?"

"This is her last memory of middle school! You all had better think of a solution!"

"Apologise! Apologise to Ami now!"

Even if she were to say that, the one who had carved that part wasn't even around. No one was able to resolve the situation, and Takasu-san continued to wail out tears by herself. She didn't even stop when the teacher tried to calm her down.

At last, the teacher looked at the group of people who had helped to piece the parts together and said:

"Which class was in charge of this section?"

Everyone apart from Takasu-san began to exchange looks with one another. In the midst of these circumstances, I had to muster my courage.

Now that I think about it, it had taken me less than ten seconds –

"Class 5."

Once I reported the class in question, the three girls glared daggers at me.

They began spouting threatening things like, "I'll beat you to death" or "Why don't you just drop dead?", only ceding when the teacher came to my rescue and said, "That wasn't done by Ibara."

During the graduation project, Class 5 had slacked off. This caused the designer, Ami Takasu, to burst into tears – This news had spread throughout the entire year by the second day. Class 5 had offered up the name of the perpetrator, and everyone came to know Oreki as the 'villain'.

Several people in class condemned Oreki.

"You have to take responsibility."

"Go and apologise now."

"Class 5's got a bad reputation now thanks to you."

That guy completely ignored all of their words.

No one had defended Oreki. During breaks, Oreki was seldom in class. Because I was in the library society, I knew that he went to the library. He didn't go to the library to borrow books, but to read his own – I had seen this happen multiple times.

In my opinion, what had happened couldn't be pinned solely on Oreki. He wasn't the only one in charge of that section. It had been done by his entire group, after all. In Class 5, every group consisted of six members, which meant that apart from Oreki, there were five others who had to bear an equal amount of responsibility for what happened with the graduation project. This was clearly the case, and yet, all that blame had been pushed onto Oreki. It wasn't fair. To be frank, whenever I saw even Oreki's groupmates chastising him, I felt incredibly sick.

However, I didn't think that Oreki was an innocent victim of all this. He'd definitely made some mistakes. I never even exchanged eye contact with him as he sat alone reading in the library.

The days of Oreki enduring the blame his classmates heaped on him didn't last for long. After the incident, Kaburaya Middle School entered winter break. After the end of the break, we began the third school term, and following that, no one could spare the effort to harp about the graduation project, because…

the high school entrance exams were right in front of us.

On the evening of the day I met Ikehira, I sat before the desk in my room and quietly thought about these past events.

Since I had entered high school, joined the Classic Literature club, and got on speaking terms with Oreki, I remained hung up about the graduation incident. Even though I had never thought that Oreki was the only one in the wrong, at that time, I thought that Oreki had disliked working because it was troublesome, and so he'd done his job with apathy. That made him an irresponsible person.

After that, many things happened.

The only reason I entered the Classics Club was to be closer to Fuku-chan. I didn't care about Oreki at all. However, after I saw him putting in the effort to resolve several incidents, I now felt that I didn't understand him as much as I had thought. Or, it was more like I had never tried to understand him to begin with.

He'd worked with us to solve the reason behind Chi-chan's grief.

And then, he went through the complicated process of helping a class of seniors. They had practically been strangers to us, and yet he'd helped them to complete their unfinished movie.

A number of similar instances like these occurred again and again. I was completely shocked to see Oreki participating in and solving all these problems. How could a measly guy like Oreki be so proactive? – those had been my thoughts at the time. However, what seemed the strangest to me was something else that had happened.

"… I remember it was around here…"

I mumbled to myself as I searched my bookcase. Keeping it tidy was the result of my vigilant care. It took me a brief moment to find what I was looking for.

A copy of 'Hyouka'. It was an odd anthology that had never even settled on what topic it would focus on. As a matter of fact, last year, I did all the editorial work for it myself. I had made an incredibly careless mistake when it came time to print the volumes. Afterwards, I had jammed this copy deep into my shelf without giving it a second glance, up until today.

There was no need to flip it open. I could still remember a large portion of its contents.

What I found strange was how meticulously Oreki had written his manuscript for this anthology.

Whenever something exciting happens, it's fairly easy to summon up energy and enthusiasm. An example would be giving your all during the sports festival, or attending the wedding of your relative. These were both typical scenarios. If someone heard, "Oh god, someone died in a locked room!" they would rush over to the scene, heart thumping. This was an incredibly normal reaction too.

Compared to that, writing an article was a vastly different experience. Under such circumstances, it was hard to be as energetic. Take Fuku-chan as an example, he had to use up a huge amount of strength before he could produce a manuscript for 'Hyouka'. Because I liked him, I sat him down in the clubroom and scolded him.

"I told you, Fuku-chan. I told you at the start. Did you listen carefully? Didn't I already tell you that just writing about 'something interesting' won't do? The problem is your idea. Of course it's important to be interesting, but it isn't just about being interesting. Listen, what you've written here isn't complete. Whether it's something interesting or something unimportant, you have to do your work properly. It's all because you didn't listen carefully that you're short on time now. You better reflect on what you've done. Have you reflected? You've must have reflected over it already. Alright, then I'll help you think. Sit over here!"

It had played out like that.

I wasn't saying that Fuku-chan was hopeless. It would be better to see this as a normal occurrence. Compared to 'Hyouka', the publication for the Manga Society was even more… no, I shouldn't think too much about that.

Back on topic, Oreki had an impatient look on his face as he said "here", and passed the manuscript for 'Hyouka' to me. At the time, I was still negotiating with the printer and hadn't even set a date for the manuscripts to be submitted. My face had been expressionless but, underneath that, I felt incredibly surprised. The lines that he always recited to act cool – "What I have to do, I do the simple way" was it? – I had always assumed that they were the words of a lazy person. Only then did I realise that Oreki abided by his catchphrase. He wouldn't avoid doing something he had to do. Probably.

Looking back at the time I spent in the Classics Club, which was also the year that I started to notice Oreki's pitiful self, I started thinking about that incident once more.

The graduation project had been important to all the third years. Was Oreki the sort who would choose to slack off even during such significant event? Was he lazy to that extent?

I flipped over on my bed.

"Something's off."

I felt that something was missing. Back then, did he intend to do something? He must have had a plan. Only now, much later, did it hit me. What was that simple wooden carving hiding? It must have something to do with why Oreki had acted so indifferent.

Even though it had been so long ago, I wanted to find out what happened.

On the first day of my small investigation, I managed to overcome an aggravating obstacle.

I reached the Geography Room right after class on Monday. Since it had to do with Oreki, I could just ask him straight up to reveal the whole truth. This was my initial plan.

Oreki was the only one in the clubroom. If this were any other day, I'd lament at my bad luck. But, today, it was instead a perfect opportunity. As usual, Oreki sat next to the third table, reading the book on his hand in that dull way of his. When I entered the room, he merely lifted his head to look for a moment before returning to his book. This happened usually too.

So, when I placed my bag down and approached Oreki, he didn't pay me any mind. What book was this guy even reading? I tilted my head to take a peek at the cover, and as if a gear had turned in motion, Oreki also tilted his book and hid its title. I righted myself, and Oreki followed by returning the book to its original position. Oreki wouldn't bring a questionable book to school, so what was he trying to hide? As I thought about this, my voice sharpened slightly:

"I have a question for you."

I made it sound like this was an interrogation.

"A question for me?" Oreki pointed at himself and ask, both puzzled and dazed. Even if this was Oreki, I had to admit that what I had said was wrong.

"Um. Sorry. I'm not going to criticise you. I just wanted to ask you something about the past."

"Something about the past…"

As he said this, Oreki placed his book on the table – not forgetting to hide its cover.

"If it's about history, Satoshi knows more than me."

I didn't have the patience to play along in a double act. I pulled a chair up and sat right in front of Oreki.

"It's about what happened during middle school."

"Satoshi knows more about that too."

"It's about the graduation project."

Oreki immediately met my eyes, a sternness crossing his face. Slowly, he said, "Doesn't Satoshi know more about that than me?"

He was right. Fuku-chan had been part of the organising committee for the graduation project. Oreki bringing up Fuku-chan's name was to be expected. However, it still felt like he was dodging me, or was I thinking too much?

I said to Oreki bluntly, "It's about you. Don't you dare say that Fuku-chan knows better again."

"Alright, alright, hurry up and ask then."

I balled my raised hand into a fist and put it on the table. "You haven't forgotten, right? That large mirror, and the carving on the mirror frame. … You slacked off when you did it, didn't you?"

"So that's what this is about. Why are you asking about this out of nowhere?"

"I saw Ikehira yesterday. We talked about you."

Saying this, I thought that it wasn't below this guy to forget the name of his classmate. So, I added, "Ikehira was a girl in Class 3-5."

"Yeah, I know."

"I wonder if that's the truth."

Oreki averted his eyes.

"It's true. Average height, not fat or skinny… black eyes and hair."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Having heard this, Oreki creased his brow slightly. He rested a hand on his book.

"I was just getting to the good part."

"Really? I'm sorry. We'll talk later, then."

"It's fine."

Oreki pushed the book aside before placing both his hands on the table. "I caused the class some trouble during that incident. Even though it's already over, it's not right to be so insensitive, so I'll apologise again: I'm sorry."

He lowered his head after speaking.

Seeing his agreeable attitude, I felt even more dispirited. I hadn't imagined that he would employ such a gimmick on me. We'd known each other for so long, so it was an effortless thing for me to see through his little trick. He'd lowered his head in an attempt to end the conversation - that much was clear to me.

"I didn't expect you to apologise. Okay, then I'll just ask - why did you do it?"

"Hm, why…"

Oreki paused for a moment.

"Every person is different, and not everyone is as talented as you."

"I already know you're incompetent. So, you're saying that you carved it like that because of your butterfingers?"

If he was going to say that, I was prepared to shout "Nonsense!" in reply. Oreki's abnormal carving wasn't due to poor workmanship, but because he was too lazy to properly examine the whole design.

"There was another reason, but I can't remember it now."

"You can't remember?"

"My head was filled with thoughts about exams. It was just something for graduation, even if I put in effort to do it, no one would notice, so it would've been alright if I just did it roughly… Even though I can't remember now, that was probably what I thought back then."

"Huh?"

I leaned forward to scrutinize Oreki as I said, "You mean that you slacked off because you were preparing for exams? There aren't any other reasons, right?"

I wasn't able to tell if he was lying or not. How disappointing. However, I could still read something from the expression on his face. The impatient Oreki seemed to be faltering.

"…."

Oreki's expression shifted.

Anyone would feel nervous if they were being stared down by someone right in front of them. They could possibly feel discomfort, even.

Regardless of these reasons, just then, Oreki's face turned slightly red.

"Oreki."

"What?"

Although I'd called to him, I hadn't thought of what I wanted to say. Is your face red? Why is your face red? Are you angry?

Following that, I tried all manner of convention, I tried nudging him, but Oreki repeated himself, saying "I forgot" and "I can't remember now", never letting up.

In that case, I'd have to outflank him.

If I could just find out what had gone on back then, Oreki would be left with no way to escape and maybe then he'd spill his guts. But how was I going to manage that? That evening, I sat facing my writing desk at home and thought about it over and over again. Eventually, I decided that asking a classmate who had been in the same group as Oreki was the best solution.

I couldn't remember who had been in Oreki's group. Times like these called for the graduation album. Apart from class photos, the album also contained photos that Class 3-5 had taken together. I didn't know what the other classes did, but in Class 5, each group had taken a photo together. I hadn't expected these photos to prove their use now.

I removed the album from the bookshelf, spread it open on the table, and flipped to Class 5's page. Though the cameraman had told us to smile, Oreki's face remained stoic. There were five other classmates with him. As long as one of them had gotten into Kamiyama High School, I'd have found my answer.

"Ah… Yes!"

Found them. I tapped their photo with my finger.

Kei Shibano. Although she was capricious, I remembered that she had been kind to those who were depressed. Her catchphrase was, "I have to lose weight". She had been slightly plump, but I felt that it wasn't to the point where she had to worry about it.

Naturally, I'd seen her often in Kamiyama High. We had the same gym period last year. This was great – Shibano was someone I found easy to talk to. I didn't know which class she was in, but that wasn't a big problem at all. I'd just have to wait until tomorrow. For the moment, I set the matter aside.

I rarely had a chance to take the album out. There was no reason not to look for Fuku-chan. And so, I flipped the page.

Once I found 'Satoshi Fukube' in his third year of middle school, I let out a pleased laugh.

"Hahaha! He's so tiny!"

Fuku-chan still looked like a girl even now. It was hard to tell that he was a second year high school student. However, it was easy to see from this photo that he had changed since then. It must have been the same for me.

Right. Now that I'd had my eye candy*, it was time to study.

The next day, I found out which class Shibano was in. This was easier than I imagined. I got the information from two friends, and found out that she was in Class D. I learned of this at the end of the third period, but decided to wait until lunch break before searching for her.

I didn't have a bento with me for lunch. Actually, half the time I wasn't even hungry at noon. Fuku-chan had said that "It's because you ate too much in the morning". On one hand, this made sense. On the other hand, I kicked at his legs a few times. After that, I came to the quick decision of skipping lunch.

I reached Class D and found Shibano without much effort, but she was still eating. I loitered at the corridor for a while, until I thought the time was just about right, before entering Class 5. I had been a student for many years, but I still couldn't help but feel anxious whenever I entered another class.

"Hm? Ibara? It's rare to see you here. Are you looking for someone?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Who're you looking for? Do you need me to get them for you?"

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something. Do you have some time now?"

Shibano didn't find it odd. She cheerfully agreed, "Sure! Let's go over there to talk then."

Shibano and I stood next to the classroom's windows. Someone had opened the window and a cool wind swept into the room. I couldn't help but feel that I had said these same words in middle school – this weird memory made my head itch.

"What's up?"

"Last Sunday, I met Ikehira."

"Oh, Ikehira? How nostalgic. I heard that she's in a band now."

I was a little surprised by this. "Even you know about it? It seems that she's having a hard time finding a lead singer."

"Hm?" Shibano lifted her brow. "So you're going to sing for them, Ibara? Or are you helping her find a singer?"

It seemed that she wanted to help Ikehira, but dreaded the prospect of singing. I hastily waved a hand and said, "No, no. It's not about that. We talked about the graduation project. You know, the carving for the mirror frame?"

"… Oh, I see."

As if she had come to an understanding, Shibano shifted her eyes away.

"You're talking about that even now? Yeah, I guess you would."

How should I bring up the question? I had a few options. However, at the end, being straightforward was the best way to go about it. I didn't like acting smart, wasting time fooling around and then asking "So, what happened back then?" What I disliked even more was guilting someone into answering a question. So, I said,

"I'm in the Classics Club now. Oreki's there too. When I brought him up, Ikehira was completely put off. I guess it's to be expected."

"Ah, Oreki. Yeah, that's true. Some people may still hold a grudge."

"But I thought about it, and it feels weird somehow."

Without knowing it, my voice was gradually rising. "Speaking of Oreki, doesn't it feel like he's always off in his own world, or that he doesn't like doing work?"

"I didn't talk to him much, but yeah, I guess he gives that sort of impression."

"But I don't think he's the kind of person who'd purposely slack off. … Do you remember the thing that happened during the Sports Festival? Osada or someone said her stomach hurt, and it messed up the relay team?"

Shibano nodded her head, a weary expression crossing her face. "Of course I remember. I was the one who had to take her place."

"Really? Osada always tried to help people without thinking things through. The same thing happened with the choir competition."

Oh no, we were starting to reminisce about middle school. Lunch break was short, so I had to stop this topic and direct the conversation back on track.

"Let's not talk about that first."

I sighed softly and asked,

"What I don't understand is - why was Oreki the only one who did the carving? That was the job of the whole group, right? But what I remember is that Oreki was the only one who came to hand in the piece. And he took all the blame for it. What happened, exactly?"

Oreki was incompetent at these kinds of tasks. I knew this without him having to bring it up. What I didn't understand was why Oreki was the one who did the carving for the wooden block. In my group, Mishima and I were the ones who did the carving. If Oreki had been in our group, he wouldn't even need to lift a carving knife.

This question hit a sore spot of Shibano's, and I had been anticipating it to be the case. She fell silent instantly, and her expression stiffened. I had no intention of blaming Shibano or the rest of the group, but the way I had put the question must have given her the wrong idea.

Even so, Shibano told me, "If you're talking about that, it was Oreki's own idea."

"… Huh?"

"He said he knew someone who could help out and finish it easily. After that, he took both the wooden board and the design with him. We believed him… though that sounds flimsy no matter how I say it. But after Oreki said that, we were happy to hand the responsibility over to him."

It wasn't that different from what had happened in my group. As soon as we said "The boys can't carve", they left us alone and made themselves scarce.

"So…"

There was a sigh.

If we had still been in middle school, Shibano wouldn't have let out such a heavy sigh.

"So, to tell you the truth, we probably owe Oreki an apology."

"… I see."

Though I was nodding, I wasn't telling Shibano that she should go apologise. I wondered if she got the right message? I wasn't able to tell from just looking at her expression.

During the winter of the year before, Oreki had handed in the graduation piece alone – that carving wasn't something a person could do by themselves. I had guessed correctly. He did have an agenda of some sort.

I had one more question.

"Who's this 'someone who could help' that Oreki mentioned?" Though I had asked this, I wasn't hoping for an answer. I didn't think that Shibano and Oreki had ever been close or even friendly with one another. I expected her to have no idea who it was.

Who was the third party in this mystery? Only one person came to mind. It could only be one of Oreki's male friends, and the only I knew of was Fuku-chan. … But, Oreki couldn't possibly have agreed to take on the job because of Fuku-chan's help.

As I thought about all this, Shibano seemed to be hesitating. I had been expecting her to answer "I don't know", but instead, I heard Shibano say this:

"Asami Toba."

"Who?"

"A girl called Asami Toba. That was the person Oreki was talking about."

It was the name of a stranger. It seemed to be someone I had never met in my three years of middle school. Or maybe I had heard that name somewhere before?

"I think she was his girlfriend."

Hm… I really had never heard of her before. Even though Kaburaya Middle School had less students than Kamimaya High, there had still been over two hundred students then. It wasn't strange for there to be someone I didn't know of.

At this point, I finally registered some of the words I just heard.

"Wait, what did you say?"

"His girlfriend."

I don't like talking about myself, but, at this point, please allow me to reflect deeply on why I reacted in such an embarrassing way. Upon hearing of the existence of what could only be termed as something fantastically absurd, I actually shouted "WHAT!!?" so loudly that it startled the entire class. I had never thought this possible.

All the students in Class D turned to stare at me. I quickly covered my mouth with one hand. Not good. I'd gone and disturbed other people. No, but, that couldn't be possible. Were we still talking about Oreki?

Seeing that I was unable to recover from the shock, Shibano lowered her voice and said, "It was this one time. When I went to ask him if the graduation piece was done, he said, 'It depends on Asami.' So, I asked him, 'By Asami, do you mean Asami Toba?' And he was surprised when he heard this. He hadn't expected me to know who Asami was. He thought that no one knew."

"Mm, it's just that, how do I put it… Your memory's pretty good."

This wasn't what I really wanted to say.

"I'd been surprised to hear Asami's name coming from him, and I got shocked again when I learned that Oreki had a girlfriend. But…"

Shibano gave a wry smile. "Not as surprised as you are now."

Following this, Shibano stepped away from me. This probably meant that she wanted to end the conversation. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Lunch was ending in five minutes.

"If you want to look for Asami, you can find her at the Photography Club. I haven't talked to her since we entered high school, but I saw some of her photos during the Kanya Fest."

Pausing here, Shibano mischievously added, "But if you want to know where Asami really is, Oreki should already know, shouldn't he?"

If I wanted to understand the reason behind the flaw in the graduation piece, Asami Toba would be a vital source of information.

Despite this, I didn't rush to the Photography Club after school. Instead, I raced towards the Geography Room, noticing how loud my footsteps were as I ascended the staircase. Damn you Oreki, just wait till you see what I'm going to do with you. Thoughts like "Even if I go to the clubroom, Oreki might not be there" and "What am I going to do with him?" filled one corner of my mind, but I shrugged them off as I reached the fourth level of the Specialised Subjects Block. I pulled the door of the Geography Room open with a loud whoosh.

Oreki was inside, sitting in his usual spot.

If he had been alone, I could've locked my hands around his neck and strangled him violently. However, this wasn't the case. Sitting opposite Oreki was a smiling Chi-chan. Realising that I had entered the room, she raised her hand in a slight motion and said:

"Oh, Mayaka-san! What good timing! I was just listening to something very meaningful."

Don't talk about that first, Chi-chan, listen to me! That… That guy! He…!

I wasn't so far gone as to let those words escape. I took a very deep breath. Calm down, Mayaka Ibara. You haven't found any definite proof yet.

"Oh? What's it about?"

"An experience my sister had on vacation. I don't know whether to call it a heroic deed or something else… Let's just call it an illogical story," Oreki replied.

That typically gloomy mug of his managed to look sentimental as he said this.

As if Chi-chan had settled on a great idea, she placed both her hands on her chest and said,

"Oreki-san, you should tell Mayaka-san about it too. Start from the very beginning."

"From the beginning?" Oreki said in a pained tone.

But Chi-chan echoed with an enthusiastic voice, "Yes, from the very beginning. After all, only knowing the whole story makes it meaningful! And also…"

"Also what?"

"Actually, there are some parts of the story that I'm curious about."

Oreki's shoulders fell, defeated.

"How am I going to start from the beginning…"

"Please don't skimp on the details just because it's the second time."

It was obvious that he had intended to omit some details. Oreki glared at Chi-chan with a certain kind of bitterness.

To see Chi-chan smiling again was a good thing. After all the things that had happened since we became second years, I had come to believe in this even more.

…. How could I possibly ask about Oreki's 'girlfriend' in front of Chi-chan?

Also, it was highly likely that Shibano had made a mistake. If I had to illustrate how dim-witted Oreki was, I'd use this example – even if someone were to stand before him, point at themselves and say "I", point at their chest and say "like", and then point at Oreki and say "you", he'd still need some time to think about what it could possibly mean. How was I supposed to believe that Oreki was secretly acting all lovey-dovey with someone?

That night, I called Fuku-chan.

Oreki's story had been senselessly interesting. He talked on and on about this mishap and that, and yet, through it all, Fuku-chan had never dropped by the Geography Room. The last time I had seen him was Saturday. Good god, I hadn't seen him for three whole days!

I selected the name at the very top of my handphone's memory log. Before the phone even started ringing, I heard Fuku-chan's voice.

"Hiya."*

"Oh, you picked up fast."

I could hear a muffled chuckle on the other end of the line.

"I was holding up my handphone and preparing to call you, Mayaka. Just before I pressed the speed dial, your call came through."

"I see."

I hopped on my bed, bending over to lie down. "You know, I came across something odd today."

"Hm? What happened?"

I licked my lips and said, "Asami Toba. Do you know that name?"

There was a pause. I could picture Fuku-chan's puzzled expression on the other side of the phone.

"Yeah, I do. She's in the Photography Club, I think. The chairperson complained about her before. He said that for some reason, she refused to participate in the student's competition no matter what."

"Fuku-chan, you even know the chairperson of the Photography Club?"

"Yeah I do…"

Fuku-chan knew someone that I didn't. It felt like my heart was being weighed down. How unpleasant. I sighed, chasing away these heavy emotions before asking,

"Listen. Toba-san might've graduated from Kaburaya Middle School."

"That seems to be the case."

"What do you know about her?"

Someone had said she was Oreki's girlfriend. If, on the miniscule off chance that this was true, Fuku-chan would show a little hesitation, wouldn't he?

Actually, there was a method to go about extracting information from Fuku-chan*. First, you had to test the waters with an unassuming topic, and then follow up with a natural progression of questions that dug in deeper. It was like a game.

Fuku-chan's reply took the usual, predictable route. I was the only one who could tell that his voice had become just a slight bit heavier.

"You could say I know a bit about her. Do you have a reason to look for Toba-san, Mayaka?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. You're pretty sharp."

"Of course I am. … But if that's the case, then you have to be a bit more careful."

Because Fuku-chan's tone had taken on a more serious edge, I sat up from the bed.

"Toba-san holds a grudge against all the Kaburaya Middle School students that were in the same year as her. If you want to have a friendly conversation with her, it's best not to bring up what happened during middle school."

Why? I wanted to ask.

But Fuku-chan prevented me from speaking. In a split second, his tone lightened up, "Well whatever. Forget about that. I have to tell you something. On Sunday, I…"

Because Fuku-chan was relentless, I had no opportunity to interject. At the start, I was reluctant to leave my question unanswered, but I was quick to give in after that.

We didn't have much time on the phone. Even someone like me wished to talk to Fuku-chan about happier things.

I had been in Kamiyama High for over a year, but I was still surprised to learn that there was a darkroom in the school. This darkroom was situated next to the Chemistry Prep Room, and so the prep room was also the Photography Club's clubroom.

After talking to Fuku-chan on the phone last night, I confirmed what Asami Toba looked like using the graduation album. Apart from her spectacles, there wasn't anything notable about her. If I had to say one thing about her, it'd be that she seemed be a little skinny. However, I was only looking at one instance of Toba-san's appearance. When I compared this photo to the group photo in the album, I noticed that she seemed a little off… In the picture, she didn't seem to be smiling at all.

Still, it was handy to know what she looked like. Once I arrived at the Chemistry Prep Room after school, I could see that Asami Toba wasn't around. There was someone else in the clubroom, a boy whose hair looked naturally curly. I could tell from the badge pinned to his collar that he was a third year senior. I informed him that I wanted to speak with Asami Toba.

"Oh, Toba-san?"

He paused, scratched his head, and asked, "Is it urgent?"

It wasn't something I could consider urgent. No matter what the story behind Oreki's graduation piece was, it had happened nearly two years ago. Even though I wanted to know the reasons behind everything, and as soon as possible, I wasn't in a rush to uncover it within these two days.

"It's not. If it's inconvenient, I'll come back another time."

I assumed that Toba-san was in the darkroom, but the third year lowered his voice and grumbled, "Urgh, whatever". Then, regaining full composure, he told me, "If it's her, she'll be on the roof now."

"The roof?"

With this question, I sounded like a parrot learning how to repeat words.

I had been unaware about the existence of the darkroom until today, but I knew that there was no staircase in school that led up to the roof. After all, the clubroom of the Classics Club was on the top floor. To access the rooftop, you'd have to climb up from the metal ladder on the wall. The top of the ladder was barred by a bulky metal door. Though I'd never tried going up there before, I was sure that the door was locked.

"Yup, the rooftop. Don't tell anyone else, but she has the reserve keys to the roof."

Had the keys been passed down in the Photography Club, or did they belong to Asami Toba herself? Despite my suspicion, the answer to this didn't concern me at all. After I said my thanks, I left the Prep Room and climbed up the already familiar Specialised Subjects Block. I wasn't in a hurry to see Toba-san, but I wouldn't get many chances to go onto the roof. Call me silly for being interested in a high place like the roof, but I still wanted to go up and take a look.*

When I reached the fourth floor, I realised that the door of the Geography Room was locked. Was no one around? Oreki had been present the last two days, so maybe he wasn't around today. Also, it was about time Fuku-chan showed his face here. I'd go over and check later.

I stopped at the very top of the staircase. A ladder had been set against the white-coloured wall there. Though I'd always known it was here, I had never thought about climbing it. Raising my head, I noticed that the metal door at the top of the ladder was opened slightly. Someone was on the roof.

"…. Alright."

I curled my fingers lightly, gathering my spirit before grabbing onto the ladder.

Even though there was no written rule that forbade us from coming up here, it was easy to assume that students probably weren't welcomed on the roof. On another note, though I'd never paid any particular attention to it, I remembered that there were no safety rails on Kamiyama High School's rooftop. If a teacher caught a student up here, they'd be brutally reprimanded, and the Photography Club's key might even be confiscated. Thinking about all this, I climbed up the ladder even faster.

As expected, climbing up a vertical ladder required shoulder muscles, and the thin horizontal bars pressed against my palm. The person who'd gone up before me had left no traces of heat on the ladder. With every step, I felt the temperature in my hands being sapped away. It was hardly enjoyable.

I didn't make a sound, but as I climbed, I chanted "heave ho, heave ho" in my heart. Despite everything, the ladder itself wasn't even ten rungs tall. Though it required a lot of energy, it hadn't taken very long to reach the top. I pushed up a little, and the metal door to the roof opened easily. I'd thought that there would be some resistance, so this was a relief.

I emerged on the rooftop.

No one had cleaned the place, and so the roof was checkered with black stains everywhere. In front of me, there was a girl with a tripod stand. However, she wasn't looking into the camera's viewfinder, nor was she moving to adjust the camera – the girl was just standing there.

"… Toba-san?"

Because the metal door hadn't made any noise, the girl hadn't noticed my presence. I watched as she turned slowly to look over her shoulder, staring right at me with coal black eyes.

"Who are you?"

At that moment, I learned how three words could be intense enough to repel a person.

Without a doubt, she was Asami Toba. That face was just like the one in the graduation album.

Still, I couldn't help but ask myself: is she really Asami Toba? In the album, she could have been described as: 'lacking a personality'. The kind of person that you would forget even though you'd come across her in the hallway – that was what I thought as I saw the girl buried in the album's photos.

But the person standing on the rooftop wasn't the same now. There was a barrier around her whole figure that seemed to repel unwanted people – that referred to me. She wasn't 'lacking a personality' any longer. I could imagine her invading my dreams now. Only later on did I realise that she wasn't wearing glasses.

I regretted being so optimistic as I entered her space. It was already too late. From the pit of my stomach, I summoned some composure and plucked up my courage.

Then, I spoke. "I'm Mayaka Ibara from Class 2C. You must be Asami Toba-san, right?"

Being addressed by her name, she carefully slid her gaze away.

"The chairperson was the one who told you."

"I don't know if he's the chairperson, but the one who told me about this place was a boy with curly hair."

"That guy…" She muttered angrily.

"… So, since you know who I am, what do you want?"

"Mm."

Talking under the open sky, the distance between Toba-san and me seemed to increase. So, I stepped closer to her.

"I wanted to ask you about something. Is now good?"

A sarcastic smile appeared at the corner of her lips. "You've already found this place. Is there really a need to ask that?"

That was true.

"It doesn't matter. What do you want to ask?"

I remembered Fuku-chan's warning – it was better not to talk about middle school. But there was no other choice:

"About the graduation project."

"… What are you referring to?"

"The graduation piece for Kaburaya Middle School. It's about the frame for that large mirror."

I could see that her whole body had frozen in place. Upon hearing the words, "graduation piece", Toba-san had an obvious reaction. I wasn't able to read into her expression, but I could tell that the wariness in Toba-san's eyes had grown stronger. I'd have to play all the cards in my hand before she could turn me away. Increasing the volume of my voice, I said,

"I'm not sure if Toba-san knows or not, but during the graduation project, one boy managed to get a lot of people to hate him, all by himself – it was Houtarou Oreki from Class 5. Because of the lazy, poorly-done carving he handed in, Takasu-san, the one in charge of the design had cried and cried.

But I've always thought that something was up. Oreki's lazy, but even he wouldn't want to spoil the graduation project of the entire year, the thing we made to help preserve our memories – he's not self-centred to that extent. So, I thought that maybe he was trying to hide something behind his back. After I investigated, your name came up, Toba-san. Oreki, Toba-san, and the graduaton piece – what is the connection between these three things? Or, is there no connection?"

Following my questions, Toba-san smiled. It wasn't remotely friendly or warm. The smile on Toba-san's cold expression was saying: You don't know a thing, so of course you'd ask such a weird question.

There was no wind on the rooftop, the air was warm, and the weather was pleasant. Yet, I felt a chilling sensation in my bones.

"What're you going to do if you find out?" Toba-san asked. What she meant was: This happened so long ago, it's already over, isn't it?

No, it wasn't over yet.

"I'll go and apologise."

Toba-san raised her eyebrows and repeated, "Go and apologise?"

"Yes. Apologise."

"To who?"

"Isn't it obvious? … To Oreki."

In class, everyone had blamed Oreki for slacking, and had made him take all responsibility for causing trouble and ruining the final memory of middle school. From then until graduation, Oreki constantly avoided the classroom.

He'd go to the library to read his books. … And though I was there too, I'd never so much as glanced his way.

Then, I graduated middle school and entered high school. When I met him once again in the library, I wasn't the least bit thrilled. Oreki was an unmotivated, unreliable person. He wasn't suited to be Fuku-chan's friend at all – back then, I hadn't fully understood them, and so I'd really felt that way.

The one cause for all that was the carving of that singular, straight vine. If it really was the result of laziness, every one of the third year students had a sound reason for bearing a grudge against Oreki.

But, what if it wasn't?

Toba-san teased me once more. "And what'll happen after that? He'll forgive you? Aren't you being a little unrealistic here?"

It seemed that she did know Oreki. As I raised my head, determined, Toba-san said, "It's already come to this. What else do you want to do? But… if you've always held a grudge against Oreki-san, that is a problem."

When she brought up Oreki's name, Toba-san's voice seemed to brighten, colouring itself with sentiment. The word "girlfriend", the word that I had refused to believe, came to my mind.

"Toba-san. To you, Oreki-san is…"

"He's probably my hero. You could call him that."

Hero? Oreki?

At that moment, a smile appeared on Toba-san's face.

I'd figure out what that meant later. I had to fish out some information from her right now while that barrier of hers was down. So, I asked again,

"What about the graduation piece?"

"That's… you could call that 'a curse that's already been broken'."

"What did Oreki do with the graduation piece?"

Toba-san smiled and said, "Who knows? I don't need to tell you everything. If you'd asked me this the year before, I'd have happily told you the whole story. … But, there's one thing I can tell you for sure. Saying that you bear a grudge against Oreki - that's something unforgivable."

It was already too late to say anything in defence, so I didn't bother to.

A light gust of wind blew across the roof. Without any safety railings up here, even a small wind was enough to make me uneasy. Toba-san rolled her shoulders, looking disinterested as she said, "If you want to know the truth, why don't you go and have a look at that mirror? Though, you won't be able to understand if you just stand in front of it. Alright, I'm in the middle of club activities now. You're disturbing me. So could I please ask you to leave the roof?"

Then, she began to turn away.

I thought about Chi-chan's smile, about the intriguing story Oreki had told yesterday.

"Wait. There's one more thing."

"… What is it now?"

Seeing Toba-san arch her eyebrow, I spoke up, determined not to repeat this question a second time.

"Have you met Oreki-san since then?"

Luckily, Toba-san didn't think too deep into the question.

"I want Oreki-san to stay a hero."

"…"

"If we see each other and talk, I'd feel disgusted, wouldn't I?"

She turned away after saying this, bending over to look into the viewfinder of her camera. I understood that she wasn't going to answer any more of my questions.

In the end, that mirror was the answer.

I came down from the roof, but didn't head for the Geography Room. It had come to this, so what was I going to do? Though I was unwilling to admit it, what Toba-san had said was correct. Using Toba-san's name, forcing Oreki to open his mouth, strangling the truth out of him, all just to find a reason for why I owed him an apology – it seemed a little inappropriate to do things that way.

I really wanted to know what Fuku-chan had to say about this. However, if it concerned the graduation project, Fuku-chan had been in a different class from Oreki and Toba-san. And, if Oreki was trying to hide something, and I were to get it out through Fuku-chan, that would be a despicable move on my part. For now, I'd just have to endure it. Endure it.

There was still some time before Kaburaya Middle School closed.

There were many places high school students couldn't go. Places that were against the law, where it was against regulations, or against the school's rules. There were many places that we weren't allowed to enter.

On the other hand, there were places that had no such restrictions, and yet no one would ever want to go there. An example was one's old middle school. I felt the same way about it.

When I reached the front gates of Kaburaya Middle School, I gazed at the marigolds and azaleas that had bloomed in the flowerbed in front of the entrance and felt my cheeks flush with the heat. The track team and baseball team were training out on the field, and I could just barely hear the school's band practicing. These aspects weren't all that different from Kamiyama High School's, so why did I find it so difficult to enter Kaburaya Middle School?

The reason was clear. I had graduated from this school with all my smiles and tears. We weren't able to go back. We couldn't go back.

I examined my attire. All the people along this street would recognise this as the Kamiyama High School uniform. Maybe I should go home first and change into my middle school uniform? Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, I hadn't grown at all since then. Though I'd grown a lot as a whole, I could no longer deny the number on my height chart. I wouldn't look out of place in a middle school uniform, would I?

I shook my head. What was I thinking? That was no different from a cosplay. Pondering over such a bad idea, I might as well just blow my cover now. Even if I felt a little uncomfortable, all I was doing was going inside a middle school. It wasn't something that required any sort of courage.

Okay, time to get moving.

Passing the school's gate, I noticed that I was walking off to one side.

There were three entryways in total – one for students, one for staff, and one for visitors. Walking to the visitor's entrance seemed redundant, so I considered sneaking in through the student's walkway. But, if I did that, I wouldn't be able to walk around inside the school – there wouldn't be any indoor shoes for outsiders to wear at the student's entrance. And so, although I wasn't a 'visitor', I had to regretfully make my way to the visitor's entrance.

If only there was a reception room*. "I'm Ibara, a graduate. Could I please come into the school for awhile?" "Sure!" If that was the case, then I could enter the school without any worry. However, the large door for Kaburaya Middle School visitors was wide open, and there was no one around. It seemed to say, 'Only those who don't have any suspicious intentions would dare to come this way'. Even though I'd studied along these corridors before, it was hard not to feel tense. I quickly walked into the building, took off my shoes, and retrieved a pair of green indoor shoes which said 'Kaburaya Midlde School' from the shoe cupboard.

That mirror had been named "The Mirror of Memories". Even though it was rather plain, it was better than a strange name. I was still a student here when the mirror had been hung up, so I knew where it was: at the bottom of two staircases, on the opposite wall. I was scared of getting caught, but I walked forward firmly.

It was thirty minutes before the school's closing time. I could hear other people around the school, but I never met anyone along the corridor I walked down. If I could see a girl in a sailor uniform, I'd be able to think back to where I was two years ago, and let myself indulge in the warm memories. But there was no one in the hallway, so I mulled over Toba-san's words from start to finish. … A curse that was already broken.

What did that mean? If we were talking about a cursed mirror, then, Snow White? That would be a magic mirror. Would a two-sided mirror with different reflections at night be considered a cursed mirror? But "The Mirror of Memories" was one-sided. And what did "a curse that was already broken" mean, anyway?

As I mulled over these thoughts, I arrived in front of "The Mirror of Memories" without meeting a soul.

"… Was it always this small?"

This was the first thing that came to my mind.

If I were still in elementary school, I'd be surprised by how big it'd look to someone so small. I'd grown a lot taller since then. But I hadn't grown at all since the last time I saw "The Mirror of Memories". Despite this being the case, the mirror on the wall was disappointingly small to me.

Actually, no, it wasn't. I could see my whole body in the mirror with room to spare. It must be about two meters tall. It was considered big. So, in other words, in the last year or so, the mirror I had in my mind was the one that had grown larger.

"It feels nostalgic. Of course it would."

I stretched a hand out.

All of the graduating students - in theory, that is - had carved this mirror frame. I didn't place much significance in that. But I had been there when the frame had been put together, and though it was the teacher that did the most work, I had felt a strong sense of accomplishment. The bird that pecked at the grapes on the left side of the mirror was, of course, carved by Mishima and I. Looking at it now, our 'swallow' was indeed a hummingbird. If I had known this back then, I would have put in more effort towards the hummingbird.

Underneath the mirror was a plastic nameplate. "The Mirror of Memories (Designer: Ami Takasu)" had been written on it. Our year of graduation had also been included.

"Takasu-san's name has been left behind, huh."

I hadn't noticed this nameplate when I was still a student here. Though I envied that Takasu-san's name would forever remain in this school, I also felt relieved that it wasn't my name.

There was one more thing that was different from the mental image I had of the mirror – the grapevines around the mirror were very thin. In my memory, the vines had taken up the full ten centimetres of wood. In actual fact, the thickest vine seemed to be only two centimetres wide. The extra space was filled up by the vines coiling and twisting together.

I found myself whispering.

"I'd say it's about 60 points."

In my third year of middle school, I'd thought that this design was almost perfect.

But now, seeing it once again, it was just needlessly complex.

This was most obvious at the bottom of the mirror frame. The detail was much too intricate. The vines were all over the place, winding up and down, even turning in circles. This made it look complicated, and taking into account all the tree branches and numerous flying insects, the whole thing looked messy.

But, even though the bottom design was more complex, it wasn't that terrible. The images on the upper part of the mirror simply looked much better.

Next…

I took a step back and gazed at the entire length of the mirror.

I had been paying attention to the mirror frame just now, and had ignored my reflection in the mirror. My reflection furrowed her brow and folded her arms.

"… So, a cursed mirror…"

The mirror itself was a typical one that a teacher had bought. Perhaps Fuku-chan would be able to explain the theory of pinholes, but I didn't think that had anything to do with the curse.

What was cursed was probably the frame we'd carved.

"But she said it was 'already broken'."

I hesitated to think that Oreki was the one who had 'broken the curse'.

How could I put it? In the midst of all the tangles around the mirror, there was one horizontal line. My eyes were drawn towards it. That one straight vine. Oreki's carving.

The curse.

"Hm…"

What had Toba-san said? Oreki was a hero. She'd feel disgusted if they met, so she didn't want to meet her hero. And –

I wouldn't understand. She said if I just stood here, I wouldn't understand. 'You won't understand if you just stand in front of it'.

"Wait, that's not right."

That wasn't right. It wasn't. At that moment, I thought there was something more to Toba-san's words.

What Toba-san meant when she said "You won't be able to understand if you just stand in front of it" wasn't that I would never be able to understand the truth. Instead, she meant that I wouldn't be able to understand if I just stood here. I couldn't just stand. I had to…

Handstand.

"… But I'll end up flashing myself…"

If Fuku-chan were here, he could help hold up my skirt.

So now I had to do a handstand, or try to stand upside down in some way.

"Hm, let's try this…"

I took my handphone out of my pocket.

Selecting the camera application, I pointed the phone's camera at the mirror. In the mirror, my reflection held up her handphone too.

I'd picked for the shutter sound of my phone to make a simple "click".

When the image appeared on the screen, I flipped my phone around.

Evening was slowly creeping into the hallways of the middle school. I murmured to myself.

"… So that's it."

We were in the Geography Room.

Chi-chan wasn't around today. Oreki, Fuku-chan and I were in the clubroom.

Fuku-chan was talking about something. I'd probably heard it before. Oreki sat in his designated seat, and I wordlessly presented all the photos I'd printed out before him.

Oreki reacted with shock. That was natural. If someone were to put a large stack of photos in front of me, I'd be confused too. He didn't speak until I finished taking out all the photos, and neither did Fuku-chan.

The photos were of the lower part of the frame for the "The Mirror of Memories". There were fifteen photos in total, including one of Oreki's 'half-hearted' carving. Because I'd printed out fifteen pieces, my printer had run out of ink. I'd just have to take Fuku-chan along with me to buy some more next Sunday.

Noticing that I had stopped moving, Oreki asked,

"What's this?"

Still trying to act dumb to the very end.

"The graduation piece."

"Oh. Really."

"Your crude tone really pisses me off."

Oreki scratched his cheek.

"I went to see Toba-san yesterday. Oreki, did you know Toba-san's in our school?"

Even though I'd asked, there was actually no need to. They'd been in the same school for over a year, it was hard to believe that they'd never crossed paths.

However, Oreki was an unfathomable person.

"Nope. This is the first I've heard of it."

"Huh?"

"Is she doing well?"

Was that considered 'doing well'? She had that barrier of hers that repelled anyone from getting close to her. Still, I could see where her principles had come from.

"Pretty well, I suppose."

"That's good to know."

"She told me to do a handstand in front of the mirror."

Then, I flipped all fifteen photos around. Beside Oreki, Fuku-chan didn't say a word. This silence meant one thing: Satoshi Fukube knew what had happened between Oreki, Asami Toba, and the graduation piece.

At first glance, the photos depicted chaotic grapevines. But, if you turned them around, you'd be able to see a completely different picture.

A circular grapevine, when flipped over, became an "e".

The cluster of vines, when flipped over, looked like a "W".

Here was an "h", there was an "A". Because they were all handwritten letters that hadn't been in my books, it had taken some time to decipher them.

The fifteen photos spelt out one sentence:

"We hate A ami T."

"We hate Ami. That's horrible. The graduation piece was actually hiding this message."

Oreki had given up on his act. He nodded slightly and said,

"Yes. I feel the same way."

"But, there's a problem with the sentence."

"Correct."

"There's a missing letter."

"Yeah."

"And it's the part that you carved, isn't it?"

I pointed at the space between "A" and "a". Oreki nodded silently.

I didn't need Oreki to confirm the rest. Oreki probably knew full well what it was that I had discovered.

The message that the coiled vines were supposed to hide had probably been "We hate Asami T". But, because Oreki had left out one of the letters, the sentence had changed.

The curse that was meant for Asami Toba had been broken.

At this point, I looked over at Fuku-chan.

"Hey, Fuku-chan, I went back to Kaburaya Middle yesterday."

"Ah~ Is everyone doing alright?"

"No clue. I didn't see anyone. But, I did see the nameplate underneath the mirror, the one that said that Ami Takasu was the designer."

"Oh, so that happened."

"Fuku-chan, you asked someone to do that, didn't you?"

Fuku-chan and Oreki exchanged looks with each other.

Why hadn't they told me about it? Even if they kept it from me, I would've been able to guess that something had been going on behind the scenes. Boys were weird. No, wouldn't it be better to say that boys were unreasonable?*

Ami Takasu and her gang had wanted to terrorise and overwhelm Asami Toba. If the conflict had been serious enough, all the other classes would have gotten wind of it. However, I didn't remember such a thing ever happening. So, it seemed that all this had been brewing right underneath the surface. Perhaps it had started at a cram school* outside of school, or somewhere like that.

Ami Takasu had been the designer of the graduation project, and in it, she included her final ploy. It would have been a message presented from the entire graduating class to Asami Toba, a message that would continue to be passed down in Kaburaua Middle School – "We hate Asami Toba".

Unfortunately for her, Oreki had found this out. The part that he was in charge of was supposed to conceal the flipped letter "s". But, with only this, he wouldn't have known what the entire message was. This was because every group only received a picture of their portion of the design. Oreki felt suspicious, and had probably gone to Fuku-chan. Fuku-chan had been the one in charge of overseeing the graduation project. He must have had a copy of the complete design.

Oreki and Fuku-chan had uncovered the entire message after looking at the full design. At that point, it had been too late to stop the project, so the only thing they could do was to change the message.

It was no wonder that Ami Takasu-san had cried so hard in the cold school gym on the day we assembled the mirror frame. The message that was supposed to torment "Asami T" had somehow become a torment for "ami T".

"Toba-san says she thinks of you as her hero," I told Oreki.

I scrutinized him.

As expected. Oreki's face was red. Once I discovered the hidden message, I also understood the reason why Oreki was avoiding and concealing what had happened. He had saved Toba-san. Because of this, Oreki felt embarrassed. The person who was always going on about "energy conversation" had actually saved a girl on impulse. He probably didn't want anyone to know about this.

Just how stupid was he?

"I didn't think that the truth would come to light today. It looks like I've underestimated Mayaka, huh?" Fuku-chan said in a light-hearted tease.

After heaving a sigh, Oreki turned to Fuku-chan and said, "Back then, I was thinking about whether or not to change the vine into a 't' shape."

"Really? That's not a bad idea."

If Oreki's part was a "t" then it would become…. "We hate Atami T".

"But, you know, I don't actually hate the Atami Sea."

I couldn't believe them, using such petty tricks in response to me. I'd known these two for so long, and could read their little manoeuvres. Oreki and Fuku-chan were employing jokes to write this incident off as something that was already over. I knew what they were doing from the start.

Not wanting them to have their way, I spoke loudly.

"I'm sorry, Oreki. I never thought that you would do this sort of thing, and I looked down on you. I'm really very sorry."

Oreki was so flustered that his eyes darted all over the room. Finding the paperback on the table, he pulled it up with relief. It was as if he was holding a book of incantations*. And then, glancing to the side, he said,

"Okayokayokayokayokay, just keep the photos. … Looking at them is distracting*."

If only I had a mirror. I wanted to show Oreki just what kind of face he was making.

Chapter 67 - What the Mirror Can't Reflect

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