Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Unfinished Snow
Time: April 1995
Location: Seirei City, Kanto Region
Characters: I (Nikkami Shinri), Hitsugaya Toshiro, Tousen Kaname
1.
"Due to the indiscriminate serial killings, the mock exams originally scheduled after the entrance ceremony have been canceled~" The slightly ditsy class rep with orange hair stepped up to the podium and announced, "After the entrance ceremony, please head straight home, everyone! Do not linger in the city."
"Haha, awesome!" A delinquent-looking student with bird-like hair threw his hands up, the first to cheer. What was his name again? Ooshima or Ojima? I don't remember his name, but I do remember his pathetically low deviation value. With scores that low, just being able to attend school is worth a standing ovation.
Shin'o Academy is just an ordinary high school, where students coasting through life far outnumber those studying seriously. For me, however, there was no luxury of choosing a school.
Looking on the bright side, at least there are plenty of empty study rooms—assuming you ignore the chewing gum, beer bottles, and paint thinner smuggled in against school rules.
"Another murder case? Why isn't anyone protecting fragile, ordinary people like us!?" Ojima, or rather, Ooshima, yelled loudly. "Isn't the school failing to protect us? Japan is doomed, you bastards!"
"Yelling won't do any good." Kojima Mizuiro, sitting to my right, kicked Ooshima's chair. Wow, their names are way too similar. "Who's going to come? Espers going berserk happens randomly, right? It's like getting struck by lightning—just their bad luck. Right, Shin—"
"Just call me Nikkami," I immediately corrected.
"—Nikkami-kun." Kojima shrugged. Perhaps because we both belonged to the college-prep faction, he occasionally struck up a conversation with me. It's a good thing; you can't be an "unremarkable, ordinary student" if you don't have a single friend.
"It probably isn't random, though? The police announcements mentioned it being related to psychological stress," I said, putting on a contemplative act. "Maybe Ooshima, who's failed three times in a row, is going to go berserk suddenly?"
"Like hell I would!" Ooshima slammed his desk in retort.
Kojima Mizuiro burst into laughter.
Exactly. At times like this, you just need to chime in appropriately and pass the conversation to someone else, keeping the chatter going like a game of catch.
Everyone can skillfully play catch, swinging their bats ordinarily on the baseball field of life. Something like that, even I could manage if I tried hard enough.
A lively class, troublesome classmates, wearing formal attire, listening to white-bearded old men recite school mottos and rules, then joining a club, experiencing school festivals, open days, and Obon festivals, reluctantly parting with best friends when holidays arrive... Even if it couldn't be called a rose-colored high school life, it could at least be dyed with a hint of spring's hope—at least, that was what I thought at the time.
I was completely wrong.
Dead wrong, dead wrong!
Not just dead wrong, but outright stupid. I really wanted to beat up my past self, the one who had walked into the grand auditorium for the entrance ceremony, smiling foolishly alongside classmates.
"...That's the Student Council President? So cool..."
"He bleached his hair? Seriously? I want to dye mine too..."
"Crap, he looks like bad news..."
A white-haired, stern-looking boy. Just by standing up from the waiting seats obscured by the stage curtain's shadows and walking to the podium, he had already captured everyone's attention.
"I am the Student Council President, Hitsugaya Toshiro," the boy stated calmly.
Amidst the murmurs of the crowd, I felt a bone-chilling cold.
2.
Shin'o Academy, Gymnasium.
During non-class hours, the gymnasium was devoid of students and teachers. Even the echoes of footsteps sounded unusually grating.
I stared at the boy straight ahead—Hitsugaya Toshiro. In this situation, reporting school bullying to the student council would be useless, right? After all, the other party was the Student Council President himself.
"In order to help transfer students better adapt to school life, the school requests special psychological counseling for them. Nikkami-kun, please come here for a moment."
After homeroom, I was summoned with that request.
If it's the Student Council President, he could easily find out my class had club activities next and wait outside the classroom door beforehand.
Hey, hey, why me? I really wanted to ask him the reason to his face, but causing a conflict would be even more troublesome. Hitsugaya's reasoning was perfectly sound; I had no choice but to follow him.
Kojima even volunteered to swap cleaning duties with me—a little too kind of him, honestly.
"Uh, the mental health classroom shouldn't be in this direction, President?"
I tried to strike up a conversation with Hitsugaya like a completely clueless, ordinary student, but the warning bells in my heart were ringing incessantly.
At first glance—just one look—I realized that Hitsugaya Toshiro was an Esper. I knew exactly how dangerous Espers were.
My current predicament was like unluckily running into a knife-wielding thug at a convenience store—no, more like encountering a premeditated robber.
Even though their outward appearance is no different from normal people, the moment our eyes met, my boiling blood transmitted the message "same kind" to my brain. Even though we had never met before, an uncontrollable killing intent surged in my mind.
This was kin-hatred.
It was the symbol of anomalies clashing, an instinctual killing intent that screamed only one could leave alive.
Ignoring my words, Hitsugaya took out a key from his pocket, unlocked a tightly shut door, and continued down the corridor. What appeared before us was the
underground swimming pool. It was the first week of school, and the swim club hadn't started their activities yet. Hitsugaya must have gotten the key from them.
Why a swimming pool? I noticed there was only a thin layer of water in the pool. I didn't think this little water could drown me; it wasn't even enough for the common school bullying tactic of holding someone's head underwater. Or maybe, as long as it was isolated from the outside world, anywhere would do?
"We can talk comfortably here."
"What?"
"It's about time you gave up playing the normal person, Nikkami Shinri-kun."
Hitsugaya Toshiro crossed his arms over his chest, stating it like a definitive judgment.
"Just call me Nikkami—"
Before I could finish my habitual correction, snowflakes burst in front of my eyes, white ice shards splashing onto my face.
To be precise, these were the remains of an ice pick that had been flying straight at me, which I had blown apart using my psychokinesis.
"Your reaction speed is top-notch," Hitsugaya evaluated, seemingly very satisfied with my response.
"What the hell are you doing?!" That was the only answer I could muster.
Immediately evading to the side along the edge of the pool, I tried my best to widen the distance while focusing my mind to destroy the ice picks attacking me one after another.
Ice picks—even more ice picks tore through the air. Even though my ability could blow them apart, was this simply a gap in pure numbers—?!
My concentration couldn't keep up. My foot slipped, and I almost fell to the ground.
If I dodged the ice picks, I couldn't focus on using psychokinesis. If I stood still to concentrate, I couldn't destroy all the ice picks simultaneously.
Was this his reason for choosing the swimming pool? Because here, there was an infinite amount of water to create ice picks to attack me?
At this rate, I'll die—
Espers were basically dangerous elements, bastards who relied on their abilities to ruin others' normal lives. I had no doubt I would die here, under one of Hitsugaya's ice picks.
Even though there was only a thin layer of water in the pool, as raw material for ice picks, it was more than enough to turn me into a sieve. Moreover, Hitsugaya was just standing there with his hands in his pockets trying to look cool, while I was constantly dodging left and right in a panic. Both my mental and physical stamina simply couldn't keep up with the consumption.
...Consumption?
"Who sent you?! The cult leader?!" I shouted with all my might in the gaps between dodging.
"Don't insult me. I have no interest in blindly worshipping anything. Disposing of societal scum requires no reason." Hitsugaya frowned, looking quite displeased.
"Then why are you going crazy?! I didn't do anything!"
"Did you really do nothing?" As if hearing an amusing joke, Hitsugaya sneered. "Who among those who become Espers doesn't have a few lives on their hands?"
This guy... Don't underestimate me, someone who suppressed his Esper abilities with his life! To escape the PTA's surveillance, how many psychological evaluation tests had I taken, how many volunteer activities had I done, how many times had I helped old ladies cross the street? How could this guy understand!
"—For example, your mother." Hitsugaya, arms still crossed, lightly tossed out those words.
"..."
The intense anger I anticipated didn't appear. My mood was calmer than I expected.
Perhaps because I was exhausted from running, I didn't even have the desire to shout back. All that remained was the feeling of "I really want to punch this guy."
"!"
Hitsugaya probably noticed. Smarter than I thought.
Although I was extremely pissed off, in the end, I won, didn't I?
"The switch for the heating device is over there; I couldn't possibly reach it," I said, panting. "But psychokinesis is meant for things like bending spoons from a distance!"
To survive, I had worked many part-time jobs, including cleaning swimming pools. Arriving early at 5 AM, starting the pool heating system, heating the water to a comfortable temperature before guests arrived... I might be more skilled at that kind of work than using my Esper abilities.
The pool heating device's output was surprisingly high; after all, it was a large piece of equipment capable of heating the room temperature to thirty degrees. There was only a thin layer of water in the pool to begin with. With the heater running at full power, it would evaporate completely within five minutes.
Without water, Hitsugaya, who could freeze water into ice, wouldn't be able to continue fighting either.
But facts proved this was yet another mistake.
I had miscalculated the level gap between Hitsugaya and me. If quantified in numbers, the gap wasn't 1 and 10, but 1 and 100—no, maybe 1000. A difference in units, a gap in magnitude. Extremely simple and effective.
—The room temperature was dropping.
I slipped pathetically, my forehead smashing against the tile floor of the pool.
The water vapor in the air formed a thin frost on the ground. With my face pressed against the tile, I had the illusion of being pressed against a cold Ramune bottle.
The heating device didn't even make an operational sound anymore. Perhaps some part of it had already been frozen solid.
This guy was ridiculously strong!
I barely stood up, leaning against the wall taking deep breaths. From the corner of my eye, Hitsugaya, hands in his pockets, walked toward me.
...Being killed here would probably be convenient for cleaning up; after all, blood could be washed away directly with water. I thought aimlessly. But I still really wanted to punch this guy.
"I acknowledge that you have the qualifications to join the Gotei 13," Hitsugaya said.
"...A student club?" What a chuunibyou name.
"You still owe a huge medical bill, right? If you want to apply for the school's living allowance, you need my approval," Hitsugaya said slowly.
What the hell! This is an abuse of power! I'm going to report to the student council—oh right, this guy is the Student Council President.
I leaned my head back against the wall. Hitsugaya looked down at me. I really wanted to swing my fist at that handsome face, but I was too exhausted. Let alone swinging a fist, I couldn't even lift my hand. Hitsugaya still had an expressionless look, but from my angle looking up at him, that expression seemed somewhat like a smile. Even if it was a smile, it was probably a mocking one.
Unfortunately, my life now had one more thing I couldn't choose.
2.5
Ooshima Reiichi walked into a 24-hour convenience store.
He had just taken a nap, played some video games, and wasted time at a pachinko parlor until his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten dinner yet. Rob an elementary schooler? No, they'd all be home doing homework now. Then any hostess or salaryman would do; just wave a fist and threaten them a bit, and they'd immediately fork over their cash and scramble away.
He decided to eat a Big Mac, but it wasn't until he took the train to the commercial district that he realized it was already 2 AM. Did he drink too much, messing up his perception of time?
Tomorrow, tomorrow right after school, he would go straight to the Big Mac place on the street and eat a hot, fragrant burger with no pickles and no mayo. Ooshima thought to himself. For today, he'd just compromise a bit and eat a convenience store sushi bento.
He wandered around the fresh food section of the convenience store. Every bento box looked shriveled, sticky, and tasteless, stuffed with a massive amount of gross vegetables. He decided to grab the one with the most meat, as he hated lettuce and carrots. He picked up a bento, holding it up to his eyes to inspect it closely.
Suddenly, his arm bumped into something—a person wearing a hood.
"What the hell, move." Ooshima muttered, stepping back a bit. He put the bento down and reached for another box.
His arm bumped into the person's body again.
An inexplicable irritation made him frown. Looking down, Ooshima saw a man, a head shorter than him, with a hunched figure, head drooping like a sunflower that hadn't been watered in a month. Ooshima could smell the sour stench of days without washing coming from his hood.
A homeless man? Ooshima looked down, vigorously wiping the spot on his arm that had bumped into the other guy. This guy probably just finished rummaging through the trash; absolutely disgusting.
"Hey, can't you see someone's trying to grab something?" Ooshima said loudly. "What are you standing there for? Get the hell out of my way—"
The man stood motionless like he was dead.
"Hey, are you deaf, you bastard!"
Ooshima reached out and violently shoved the other's shoulder.
The man's sunglasses fell to the ground with a "smack."
The next second, Ooshima Reiichi collapsed, his eyes staring wide at the bare lightbulbs on the convenience store ceiling, blood gushing out from his ears.
3
"How strange, did Ooshima not come to school? He was supposed to be on cleaning duty today." Kojima Mizuiro picked up the eraser, substituting for Ooshima to erase the classical literature teacher's notes. I remember the next teacher is a weirdo with super high standards for a clean blackboard.
"Skipping class?"
"I don't think so." Kojima put the eraser back, looking worried. "Hasn't that sort of thing been happening recently? Using Esper abilities on the streets, killing people randomly..."
"Why not ask the teacher?" I suggested. "I think it's more likely he overslept."
"Ooshima has skipped too many classes; the teacher will just think it's another one of his absences." Kojima Mizuiro shook his head.
"Is that not the case?" I retorted.
Ooshima Reiichi was the type to be energetic during breaks and doze off during class. He seemed to hold a low-ranking position in some biker gang, occasionally causing a ruckus with weird tongue-clicking noises. Thanks to him, breaks were always lively—in a derogatory sense.
With a nose ring on his left nostril, bird-like hair, bossy and unreasonable. I heard some classmates were bullied by him, but he was somewhat loyal to his friends in class... Either way, it had nothing to do with me. I could barely take care of myself; I had no leeway to look after others.
"But the next period is Ochi-sensei's Japanese class."
I glanced at the schedule written on the edge of the blackboard: Kojima was telling the truth.
"I'll tell you a secret, Nikkami-kun," Kojima Mizuiro whispered in my ear. "Ooshima really likes Ochi-sensei. He's never missed her class."
I didn't expect that middle-aged woman to have her own fans. I nodded with a bit of respect.
"Please don't tell anyone, or Ooshima will get mad."
"Didn't you just tell me?"
"Well... because Nikkami-kun looks reliable...?"
"Is that so?" I couldn't help but be rendered speechless.
"Even though you're a transfer student, you hand in your homework on time, never arrive late or leave early, don't doze off in class, never stole money from elementary schoolers, and during cleaning time you throw the trash into the empty bin instead of forcing it into the closer full one..." Kojima Mizuiro counted on his fingers.
Hold on, those examples are a bit off, aren't they?
Just that makes me reliable? Are this guy Kojima's moral standards high or low?
"...And you're always being bossed around by Hitsugaya-kun, right? I also get pushed around a lot by Ooshima." Kojima Mizuiro smiled, as if being pushed around wasn't something to be ashamed of for him. "Is this what they call 'fellow sufferers commiserating with each other'? I feel like Nikkami-kun and I speak the same language."
No, unfortunately, there's none of that. Even though we're both acting as lackeys, there is a decisive gap between Ooshima and Hitsugaya. My knees and ankles are still aching right now.
"Why do you hang out with Ooshima? He doesn't seem to have any other friends besides you." I asked, a bit curious. "Did he threaten you?"
"No," Kojima Mizuiro waved his hand. "We're childhood friends. He was the boss of the kids, and I've followed him since we were little, so I naturally got used to it. And even though you call me a lackey, it's just helping out with little things like answering roll call for him or covering his absences."
"You have it hard too."
"I guess a little." Kojima Mizuiro put on an "I knew you'd understand me" expression. This guy was totally enjoying it.
No, no, I totally don't get it. After all, that guy Hitsugaya and Ooshima are on completely different levels of combat power. If we're comparing misery, I definitely take the crown—never mind, there's no point in comparing this sort of thing.
Even if there seemed to be contradictions on the surface, Kojima and Ooshima were friends. They even talked about crushes, a topic far too sensitive for adolescent high school boys, so they could definitely be called friends. This friendship was an undeniable fact. As for its outward manifestation, to the two of them, it was probably the most irrelevant topic.
The delicate balance in interpersonal relationships was something I genuinely missed. But along with it came some unpleasant memories.
Whatever. I just need to seek a new life. Yes, that must be it.
Using the class bell to change the subject, I focused my mind on Ochi-sensei's Japanese class. When was the next exam again?
"Even such a life / under my straw hat / a slight coolness..." Oh, what Ochi-sensei was reciting was precisely a haiku by Matsuo Basho.
The crude and hot-tempered Ooshima would probably regret not being able to hear his beloved Ochi-sensei's lecture and having to borrow Kojima's notes. It truly is
"Lodging alone in the bamboo grove / The cotton bow twangs like a biwa / Evoking my lonely feelings."
However, since the fact of lodging alone in the bamboo grove cannot be changed, playing a tune on the cotton bow like a biwa didn't sound too bad.
4
The dismissal bell rang.
Packing my homework into my bag, I said goodbye to Kojima. Leaving the classroom, going down the stairs to the first floor, passing through the corridor around to the practice building, and making sure no one was paying attention to me, I walked toward the stadium.
Beside the stadium, perhaps to welcome the freshmen, the sports clubs were training enthusiastically. Just walking past the track and field and badminton courts, I felt as if I was going to melt from their hot-blooded passion. Although, to enjoy a rose-colored school life, I should be among the juniors clapping excitedly by the courtside. Unfortunately, the dictator Hitsugaya had already arranged my campus life early on.
The swimming pool was still not open. Ignoring the "Under Maintenance" notice taped to the glass door, I pushed open the pool's main doors and scanned the empty entrance hall, looking for the "club room" Hitsugaya mentioned. No "searching" was needed; the club room was in the most conspicuous place. A notice reading "In use by the Student Council" was taped to the door, the edges of the A4 paper curling slightly, making it look like it had been there for a long time.
"Hitsugaya?"
I knocked on the door. No one answered.
"Student Council President?"
Still no response.
"Toshiro-kun—whoa, that's a bit..."
Without needing Hitsugaya's Esper abilities, I shuddered for no reason at the nickname that slipped out of my mouth.
After checking the cleanliness of the floor, I set down my bag containing my textbooks and homework and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the club room door.
Hitsugaya hadn't shown up on time. Why? Did he actually have a habit of being lenient with others? No, in the past few "trainings," or rather, "club activities" where I was unilaterally beaten up, Hitsugaya had arrived before me every time.
So his class was having extra lessons? Or maybe he was the kind of popular campus figure who would be swarmed by underclassmen? Fairly speaking, Hitsugaya's face was handsome, so the latter possibility was quite high.
A copy of the Journalism Club's newspaper lay on the floor. It seemed it had been wedged between the door and the handle, but not securely enough, so it fell. I picked it up. The front-page headline read, "The Seven Mysteries of Shin'o Academy! The School Library Actually Has This..." Campus ghost stories? I felt "Student Council occupies the underground swimming pool" could easily take a spot. Would anyone actually like dealing with official business in a swimming pool? This isn't a late-night anime.
Skipping the deliberately mystifying front page, I read downwards. Idol affairs? Don't know them. Tax evasion? Not interested. The Esper Processing Bill? All nonsense. A serial murder case? This was somewhat interesting. The fact that a serial murder case was ranked after entertainment, money, and politics really reflected the style of this era.
Even though the case happened right here in Karakura Town, the thought "This has nothing to do with me, right?" still dominated my mind.
"Ear bone damage... concussion... skull fracture... 'possibility of seeking revenge against society'?"
A highly suspicious student journalist plausibly analyzed the commonalities among the victims, ranging from petty thugs to noble heirs. They just stopped short of writing "upholding justice" and "eliminating scum for the people" in the headline. The special guest commentator—this club newspaper actually had a special guest commentator—also wrote at length. Every line brimmed with confidence. I could almost picture a bespectacled guy staying up late to draft the manuscript, thinking he could become the next Akutagawa Ryunosuke.
Club newspapers couldn't come up with anything novel. The victim list only had surnames, presumably copied from the TV. Except for figures too famous to hide their deaths, other victims weren't included in the "deductions." Think about it: in a country like Japan, there are two million people named "Sato" alone.
Outside the door, the sounds of sports club activities gradually died down. Flipping through the newspaper, I also began to feel drowsy.
Why not just leave? Even if I ran into Hitsugaya next time, I could use the invincible excuse, "I waited too long and you didn't show up, so I left." The little devil in my mind held a pitchfork, yelling at the tip of my nose: Do you think waiting here for him is fun? Maybe he'll never come!
"No, Hitsugaya is at least..."
Hitsugaya didn't seem like someone who would forget a promise—is that what I thought?
If he was temporarily called away by someone, I would probably forgive him. After all, the Student Council President's job must be busy, with lots of documents to process. I couldn't imagine the pressure from subordinates or the school administration, because that was something entirely unrelated to me.
—There are many people who need him.
Thinking of this, I actually felt a little envious of Hitsugaya.
Go ahead and laugh at me all you want. Simply put, I had given up struggling.
My forehead felt cold. Was something leaking?
I remembered this feeling. In the past, the place I lived in was in disrepair. The ceiling in the kitchen, living room, or bedroom could leak anywhere. I no longer got woken up in the middle of the night by a drop of cold, icy rain.
"..."
Who's making that racket? A woman's scream again? No, it should be a man's. Whatever it was, covering my ears with my crossed arms blocked out all sounds. Rather than waking up startled and enduring a barrage of scolding, pretending not to hear anything, and just rolling over to continue sleeping if forcibly woken, was my way of survival.
Aren't there books like that? Tokyo survival tutorials for a thousand yen a month, "loserology" books that somehow became popular. If I wrote a book like "Teach me, Nikkami-sensei! The technique of falling asleep easily anywhere," would anyone buy it? No? Thought so.
"...Hey."
The part above my neck seemed to be getting shaken by someone. No, stop shaking. Shaking won't make my neck any longer. Though, if I could turn into a Rokurokubi (a yōkai with an elongated neck), that wouldn't be too bad.
"Wake up, wake up, Nikkami Shinri."
"Just call me Nikkami—"
Before my habitual line could be finished, I opened my eyes and saw Hitsugaya Toshiro. The white-haired boy seemed to be glowing in the pitch-black gymnasium.
"What time is it?"
"Nine-thirty. PM," Hitsugaya said grumpily.
"Crap, the last train."
"What a pity, the school gates are already locked."
"...Then how did you get in?"
Hitsugaya jingled the keys in his hand.
5
"Can I go catch the last train?"
"No."
"..."
This dictator.
Hitsugaya opened the door to the club room. A long table, chairs, notebooks, and even a cactus pot—a club room that fit the stereotypical definition perfectly appeared before my eyes. It was a bit too ordinary. No, what was I thinking? Even if Hitsugaya was an ice-type Esper, he wouldn't be singing songs and building snowmen in the club room.
"You've heard about the recent serial murders, right?"
"What?"
"The serial murders in Karakura Town," Hitsugaya said. "As a member of the Gotei 13, you also have an obligation to participate in the investigation."
"Can't we do it tomorrow? Karakura Town is huge, you know."
"There's no need for field investigation." Hitsugaya pulled out a chair and sat down. "There are files in the drawer. Get them out."
"Why me?"
"Because I'm your senior, how about that reason?" Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow. "Just treat this as a rehearsal for reporting to your senior. If you want to enter a company, this is a basic skill."
And so, I stood in front of the whiteboard, whiteboard marker in hand, diligently arranging the newspaper clippings one by one and fixing them to the board with magnets. Why were there a whiteboard and markers in a sports club room? Shouldn't sports enthusiasts be running around outside looking stupid, chasing balls of various colors?
"The first victim, Mr. A, the son of a certain commerce firm, suspected of distributing usury. The body was discovered at 2 AM on March 2nd in the restroom of a certain park. The cause of death was a severe concussion." I read in a monotone.
"Speak up, our new recruit, Nikkami-kun."
Hitsugaya was definitely laughing. I decided to glare back.
"...The bodies of the fifth, sixth, and seventh victims were all found on March 14th at a subway station. Wow, all married men. Is the killer a man?"
"If you use an Esper ability, a woman could easily kill a man too."
"White Day is the day men give gifts back to women, right? If the killer was a woman, and the targets she chose were 'men who didn't give me a gift,' then the premise would be that on Valentine's Day on February 14th, this woman gave out three honmei (true love) chocolates—although we can't rule out someone having the thought
'All three men are my destined ones!'" I analyzed.
"If the killer is a man, jealous of other people's romances, he probably wouldn't specifically kill the man, but kill both together." Hitsugaya said, then shook his head.
"...No, the reason for murder could also be a unilateral jealousy like 'This guy actually has someone to give a gift to!' Although emotional disputes make sense, the company these three worked for was recently investigated for serious embezzlement."
"Are you saying the killer is 'a man who once had his lover stolen by someone'? But there are women among the victims too, like the 10th victim, a woman who seemed to be working in health product sales." I pulled out a file.
"This health product has an additive that might cause cancer. The police are still investigating, so it wasn't reported."
"Seriously." I clicked my tongue. "The targets might follow a pattern, but the selection range is very broad. The people killed are basically all evildoers—is this guy treating himself as an ally of justice?"
Unknowingly, the whiteboard was already covered in clippings, and I was just about at my limit. I really wanted to just collapse on the table and sleep until tomorrow... By the way, what time was it exactly?
"We're not done yet, junior Nikkami." Hitsugaya took out a stack of floppy disks from his pocket, bearing handwritten dates. "Surveillance footage obtained from the police station."
"You can actually get this from the police... Is this also a Student Council President's privilege?" I'd never heard of such a perk for being Student Council President.
Hitsugaya handed the disks toward me. I reached out to take them, but Hitsugaya's hand slipped, and the disks fell straight to the floor.
"...Hitsugaya, are you, perhaps, sleepy?"
"No."
I bent down to pick up the disks, then diligently moved the computer to the table. The computer seemed to have been moved from elsewhere. It was the only large item in this empty club room, placed haphazardly on a storage rack. Holding it felt like holding a large rock. Hitsugaya had already reverted to his hands-in-pockets pose. This guy, acting cool in front of another guy.
"From early March to now, the surveillance footage for all of Karakura Town was scattered across various police stations, so it took some time."
"So that's the excuse for being late. Don't tell me you want to watch all of these. There are so many videos; we wouldn't finish them even if we watched until tomorrow."
The disk icons were followed by a conspicuous red color. The dates on the videos ranged from March 1st to the day school started: April 1st. A whole month's worth of surveillance footage. Even if Hitsugaya was a superman capable of watching videos at 8x speed, there was no way he could finish them in one night.
"The police have already filtered them once. It's as if the killer knew the location of every single camera in Karakura Town; not a single camera captured the crime scenes." Hitsugaya's tone relaxed a bit. "I don't have high hopes for the surveillance footage. Just watching the footage around the estimated times of the crimes shouldn't take too long. If you're sleepy, you can go back first."
"Are you going to pull an all-nighter? Here? We have a grade test tomorrow," I said in surprise.
"That sort of thing doesn't matter."
"Yeah, yeah, right, you're the Student Council President." I felt like I was retorting way too often.
Hitsugaya placed the keys on the table. "The spare keys to the school gate. Remember to return them to me tomorrow."
"I didn't say I was leaving."
Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow.
"The time for the last train has already passed. I can't go back."
"You can call a taxi. The Student Council can easily afford this much activity fund."
"Who knows, the killer might be wandering outside. Half of the crime times are in the early morning, right?" I bluffed. "What if I get killed?"
Hitsugaya glanced at me and said no more.
6
Why was I staying here with Hitsugaya to watch surveillance footage? To be honest, I regretted not taking the money and running. But, leaving Hitsugaya alone here, he might really stay up all night, maybe even until tomorrow.
Should I call it stubbornness or persistence? Hitsugaya had an aura that suggested he would actually do it.
"Even if we each watch half, it's impossible to finish in one night," Hitsugaya said. "So let's use our brains and start with the key points. As we discussed earlier, March 14th, White Day. Only on this day were there three victims."
"It can practically be called a triple rate-up gacha pool. Let's start with the surveillance footage of the underground commercial street where the bodies were found."
I pulled up the footage for March 14th and pressed the 4x speed playback button.
An hour passed, and I couldn't help but yawn.
Probably because I had fallen asleep by the door earlier, and the club room chair coincidentally violated ergonomics, I felt my whole body aching as if it had been smashed by rocks.
"...Any discoveries?"
I rubbed my neck and asked Hitsugaya beside me. Hitsugaya shook his head.
"The underground commercial street is open all night. Even though the time of the crime was late at night, there were still quite a few target individuals. Furthermore, there are many corridors and obstacles in the underground commercial street, making it impossible to judge suspicious individuals based on their path and order to the three victims' locations."
"In other words, we chose the wrong target." I sighed. "A triple clue discovery rate, but the distractions also tripled."
After that, we wasted an hour each on the "woman peddling suspicious health products," the "old man who was a former yakuza member," and the "delinquent high schooler." Unfortunately, we found absolutely nothing.
The hands of the clock pointed to 2 AM. I couldn't remember how many times I had yawned. Hitsugaya still sat perfectly straight, his eyes sharp, his white hair illuminated by the black-and-white screen, occasionally using the remote in his hand to pause the frame.
"Let's go back," Hitsugaya finally said after my umpteenth yawn.
Perhaps due to exhaustion and staying up late, Hitsugaya's tone had lost its usual arrogance. He looked a bit disappointed, raising his hand to pause the screen. The ambient noise that had been echoing in the room suddenly vanished, and the surrounding silence immediately pressed in on us.
"It's impossible to finish it all in one go, so, shall we leave together?" Like being possessed by a ghost, I suggested.
"Are you an ordinary middle schooler who is only satisfied if you're bound to a friend for every single activity?" Hitsugaya remarked sarcastically.
"We are ordinary high schoolers, aren't we?"
"We are Espers," Hitsugaya said.
"..."
"I won't let that Esper continue to kill people."
Hitsugaya's tone was borderline ruthless. I couldn't find a single word to refute him.
Espers felt kin-hatred toward each other, but Hitsugaya's feelings probably held more than just hatred.
"Espers can also be ordinary high schoolers," I said. "Let's rest for today."
"Go turn off the computer, junior Nikkami." As if persuaded by me, Hitsugaya yielded.
I stood up, walked to the computer, and began to operate it. Suddenly, a thought popped into my mind.
"You have all the surveillance footage for March here, right?"
"That's right."
"What about April?"
"Up until today. Is there a problem?"
"There's a classmate in my class who didn't come to school yesterday. His name is Ooshima Reiichi."
"No impression."
"His friend is very worried about him and seemed to want to call the police. It's a good opportunity to look for him."
I hid the details and pulled up yesterday's surveillance footage.
I knew Ooshima's address. Thanks to their constant chatting, on the first day of school, I even knew how many pachinko parlors were around Ooshima's house and which one was easier to win at—although the authenticity of that was questionable.
"The nearest camera is... the convenience store in front of Ooshima's house." I clicked on the video. Ooshima would play at the pachinko parlor until around 9 PM before going home, so I adjusted the time to the evening.
The camera was aimed at the main entrance of the 24-hour convenience store.
"Ah, there he is."
As expected, a few minutes later, Ooshima Reiichi, sporting dyed blonde hair, staggered into the convenience store, looking like he might have drunk too much. The rule about only drinking at 20 meant nothing to Ooshima.
There was no one else in the convenience store. The clerk was sleeping soundly on the cash register near the door. It's a pity the surveillance had no sound; otherwise, we would definitely have heard the clerk's thunderous snores.
There were no cameras inside the convenience store, so I couldn't see Ooshima's situation.
Five minutes passed, and a hooded man walked into the convenience store. The hooded man left the frame, then reappeared holding a basket of short-shelf-life food. He didn't wake the clerk. Instead, he scanned the bento and rice balls against the scanner himself, left the money on the counter, and walked out of the convenience store. I waited patiently, but still didn't see Ooshima's figure for a long time.
"Are there pachinko machines in the convenience store?" I muttered to myself. "Where did Ooshima go?"
"No, he never left the convenience store," Hitsugaya said. In his tone, that arrogant confidence had returned.
"What?"
"Go back five minutes. There's something wrong with that hooded man."
I moved the progress bar as instructed.
In the black-and-white footage, the hooded man walked into the convenience store. The surveillance camera only captured the man's messy hair.
A middle-aged man with a hunched back, looking like a homeless person who had gone bankrupt due to a failed investment or something you could see anywhere.
There were conspicuous patches on his hood.
"Here, his face is reflected on the glass door. He's wearing sunglasses and holding a cane," Hitsugaya said. "Visually impaired."
"Blind people can enter convenience stores too; there's nothing strange about that. The layout of these family-run convenience stores rarely changes. Maybe he's been here so many times he already knows what's on which shelf. As for paying, he might be very familiar with the clerk."
"I know. That's not what I want to point out," Hitsugaya said. "A blind person can't read handwritten discount tags."
I was stunned.
Chain convenience stores might loop discount information on broadcasts, creating an illusion of booming business, but family-run convenience stores aren't that complex. I remembered my memories of working part-time at a convenience store: an enthusiastic store manager would sort out short-shelf-life foods like bentos or sushi, pile them in a specific spot, and use a marker to write the word "Discount" on the packaging.
"This store doesn't have a separate shelf for discounted items." Hitsugaya pointed at the fruit section, where mandarins with "SALE" tags were mixed with ordinary ones. "Even a blind person can feel the difference in texture between the skin of fruits like this and a commercial label. But if it's written with a marker on a packaging bag, feeling the marker's trace with a hand? That's impossible."
The hooded man carefully put down the items one by one, and of all the short-shelf-life foods he bought, not a single one had the word "SALE" written on the packaging. Discounted items are placed in conspicuous locations, so if one grabbed randomly, the probability of picking up a discounted item should be higher.
For at least two hours before and after, this convenience store only had two customers: Ooshima and the hooded man. Moreover, assuming this convenience store didn't have a "back door," until the hooded man left with the food, Ooshima was still somewhere inside the convenience store.
"In other words, this hooded man... directly took the bento Ooshima had picked out?"
Ooshima wasn't the type to hand over his things to others. This discovery sent shivers down my spine.
7
In the end, we pushed the spare chairs together and slept for a night in the club room, walking through the morning dew to the classroom together. While reading classical literature, I couldn't help but look at Ooshima's seat not far ahead. It was still empty.
I barely lasted until the test was over. I rested my head on the desk. Practice proved that the club room chairs were truly unsuited for sleeping. My neck ached as if the Mario Bros. had taken turns stomping on it; my durability had dropped to an all-time low.
"Nikkami-kun, are you alright?" The orange-haired class rep responsible for collecting the test papers looked at me hesitantly a few times. She was really cute. "If you're not feeling well, you can ask for a leave to go to the school infirmary."
"No, it's nothing." I shook my head. "I just didn't sleep well."
"Ah, right, I almost forgot. Nikkami-kun is a member of the Student Council. I heard the Student Council discussed things so passionately to prepare for the school festival that they forgot the time and got locked in the gymnasium." The class rep showed an expression of sudden realization. "Nikkami-kun is sleepy because of that, right?"
So that was the excuse Hitsugaya used. It was still months away from the school festival. Was the class rep a bit too gullible? No, an ordinary person who normally advanced to high school would never think that an indiscriminate serial killer might be near them, let alone actively investigate it.
Ordinary people wouldn't get tangled up in life-and-death matters.
Crap, I felt like I had drifted a little further away from the ordinary life I dreamed of.
During lunchtime, while I was eating a special discount bento in the corner of the cafeteria, I heard discussions coming from nearby. I looked up to see Hitsugaya striding toward me with an imposing aura. Fairly speaking, everyone was wearing the same Shin'o Academy uniform, but trailing right behind Hitsugaya were the gazes of a whole bunch of girls.
My first reaction was wanting to pick up my tray and move to a different corner. My second reaction was realizing there had been progress in investigating the Esper.
"Hi. President," I greeted dryly.
"That hooded man is the suspect in this serial murder case," Hitsugaya said, placing a photo on the table.
Stuffing the juice-less broccoli from the discount bento into my mouth, I leaned over to look at the photo.
The photo was taken with a Polaroid camera, but I could still tell that the face on it was a corpse. The state of death—uh, hard to describe, but definitely gruesome. I was a bit worried that the girls pretending to pass by us would scream upon seeing the photo, but they seemed too busy admiring Hitsugaya's handsome face.
Thanks to the severe color distortion and the blurry effect of the Polaroid, I finally swallowed the broccoli I was chewing, along with a little stomach acid.
"Do we really have to... talk about this during lunch?"
"Just listen." Hitsugaya had absolutely no compassion.
Thanks to Hitsugaya's embellishment, the broccoli in the bento tasted even more like plastic.
"After obtaining the information, the police investigated other surveillance cameras and confirmed the hooded man's identity. Tousen Kaname. Blinded in a car accident when he was a child, later dated a woman. That woman once worked under the father of the first victim, Mr. A, the son of a certain commerce firm, who was the president of that firm at the time. She was fired a year later," Hitsugaya said. "Later, she was found raped and murdered by a biker gang."
"..."
"The corpse in the photo is the biker who raped and murdered Tousen Kaname's girlfriend decades ago. He had a prison record. After serving his time, he worked in the upper management of Mr. A's commerce firm. Ordinary companies wouldn't hire someone with a prison record. That job was presumably exchanged for being Mr. A's scapegoat," Hitsugaya said. "Over the following years, Tousen Kaname reported the case to the police multiple times, demanding an investigation into the firm's ties to local yakuza."
"No case was filed?"
"There wasn't even a record of what Mr. A's name was in the police files." Hitsugaya sneered. "Until he became the first victim of the serial murders."
In other words, they used their power to suppress the past investigation... I suppose.
Things like this definitely could happen, but at least the real sinner made it onto the news decades later, in a completely different way.
"So? Should we continue tracking Mr. A or that 'father'?"
"No. The priority is to track down Tousen Kaname."
"..."
"We absolutely cannot let him continue killing people," Hitsugaya said. There was an emotion in his eyes that I couldn't understand.