Last night's events wouldn't leave her head. Reo's crying face. The trembling, translucent hand pointing beyond the wall. That expression—frozen the moment she saw the name Lilia. Misaki gazed out the bus window, letting the sway of the vehicle carry her. Hibari Gaoka High School—the school twenty minutes north of Tsukimori Town by bus, where Misaki had transferred in—had a navy blazer uniform. The new uniform was stiff, and the shoulders felt unfamiliar against her skin. The transfer student badge on her cuff glinted as it caught the light. (That pressed flower was still on my desk this morning.) A flower that had been wedged in a wall for a hundred years. She'd brought it home last night and placed it gently on a tissue. When she woke this morning, it was still there. The remnants of someone's precious feelings, quietly breathing in a modern room—that's what it felt like. The bus stopped. The bus stop in front of Hibari Gaoka High School. --- Even when lunch period came, Misaki had no one to talk to. It was only natural. First day of transfer—that's how it always was. She couldn't match faces to names yet, didn't know where the groups were or which ones were hard to approach. Misaki took her lunch box and searched for a quiet place. The library was silent. When she pushed open the door, she caught the mingled scent of paper and ink. Several bookshelves lined the space, and midday light streamed through the windows. The librarian seemed to be away—a handwritten note on the counter read "Away from desk for a moment." Misaki walked between the shelves. Local history section. Regional folklore. Old photograph collections. All genres she'd become interested in since moving to Harukazé Mansion. As she was examining one book spine, a voice called out. "Transfer student?" A male student poked his head around the corner of the shelf. Short black hair with a greenish tint. Clear golden eyes set in a calm atmosphere. He was tall, his uniform neat and proper. In his hands was a thick book with "Tsukimori Town Folklore Records" written on the spine. [serious] "You only wear that transfer student badge on the first day, right?" His tone was somewhat flat, but there was no edge to it. Misaki thought he seemed like someone with keen observational skills. [gentle] "Ah, yes. Starting today." "Sakaki Kenta. Second year." It was a brief introduction. Then Kenta turned his gaze back to the bookshelves and began searching for books as if nothing had happened. He didn't seem like a scary person. Just someone with his own pace. Misaki stood along the shelf next to Kenta's, lunch box in hand. Local history books lined the shelves. The history of Tsukimori Town. Flood control records of the Kasumi River. "Where did you transfer from?" [gentle] "Beyond Kasumi River City. My father got transferred." "To Tsukimori Town?" [gentle] "Do you know Harukazé Mansion? We moved there." Kenta's hand stopped. He looked away from the bookshelf and turned toward her. His eyes were different now. Not curiosity exactly—more like he was trying to confirm something. [serious] "Someone actually moved into Harukazé Mansion?" [gentle] "Yes. Apparently it was very cheap." "...I see." Kenta returned the book to the shelf and headed toward a seat by the window. He pulled out a chair and sat. Looking at Misaki, he lightly pulled out the chair across from him—an invitation to sit. Misaki settled into the opposite seat, still holding her lunch box. "Do you know about Tsukidou?" Tsukidou—a Japanese sweets shop in Tsukimori Town. Founded ninety years ago, it was the oldest shop in town, or so she'd heard. It had been mentioned in the town pamphlet her father brought home before they moved. [gentle] "I've heard the name." "I talk with the shop owner there, Yoshikawa, pretty often. Local history is my hobby." Kenta paused for a moment. Then he lowered his voice. [serious] "There's something Yoshikawa told me. About the fire at Harukazé Manor." Misaki's fingers gripped the wrapping of her lunch box tightly. "The fire is officially listed as accidental. But according to stories passed down from Yoshikawa's grandfather's generation, something about it was strange." [gentle] "Strange...how?" "The grandparents were unharmed." His voice was quiet. Because of that quietness, the weight of the words reached her directly. "There were two children inside the house who couldn't get out. Yet both adults escaped outside. If it was accidental—normally, you wouldn't get that kind of ratio." Something made a sound deep in her chest. A notebook nearly slipped from her hands. Misaki gripped her lunch box firmly with both hands. The article she'd seen on microfilm at the Kasumi River City Library expanded in her mind. "Eldest son Reo (age 12) and eldest daughter Lilia (age 8) died. The grandparents escaped outdoors and were unharmed"—that single line was beginning to take on a different shape. (It might have been intentional.) For the first time, that possibility took the form of words. [gentle] "...Could something like that happen?" "I don't know. But Yoshikawa still says 'that story was strange.' There's someone who cares about something that happened over eighty years ago. It's more natural to think something happened." Kenta's voice was calm. Not the kind of tone that stirs emotions. Just laying out known facts—and that, paradoxically, only increased the weight of what he was saying. --- After school, Misaki brought Kenta to the mansion. Kenta looked up at the mansion once from in front of the gate, showed no particular surprise, and simply said, "It's bigger than in the photos." He didn't seem frightened at all, which was oddly amusing. [gentle] "Aren't you scared?" [serious] "I'm skeptical about supernatural phenomena. But I'm interested in the history of buildings." Inside, Kenta slowly looked around the entrance hall. When he saw the sepia-toned photograph above the fireplace—the one with Reo and Lilia—his eyes narrowed slightly for a moment. [serious] "Is this a family photo from back then?" [gentle] "I think so. The boy on the right and the little girl..." "...Reo and Lilia, then." Kenta said nothing more after that. But his eyes lingered on the photograph for a while. The pull-down ladder to the attic was in the ceiling of the hallway. When Misaki pulled the cord, it descended with a creaking sound. Dust scattered. Kenta took out a flashlight and went up first—naturally, Misaki followed. The attic was dark and smelled of dust. The ceiling was low; Kenta tilted his head slightly as he stood. The flashlight beam was white, illuminating old trunks and broken toys. Wooden boxes. A cracked frame. Bundles of magazines tied with string. "No signs of organization. It's been left as-is all this time." Misaki approached one of the trunks. The metal fittings were rusted, and the lid was slightly raised. When she carefully lifted it, she could see something wrapped in old cloth inside. [gentle] "This..." She took it out carefully. When she unwrapped the cloth, a small leather-bound book appeared. Nothing was written on the cover. It was about an inch thick. The leather was cracked, but the form was well-preserved. The moment she held it, her chest tightened. She understood why—she felt Reo from this book. It was intuition. But it was an intuition close to certainty. Kenta came quietly beside her and looked at the book. [serious] "It's quite old. Based on the leather condition and paper texture...I'd say it's from about a hundred years ago." [gentle] "I think it's a diary." Kenta looked at her. "Why do you think that?" She couldn't answer. She couldn't say "I just have a feeling." But Misaki drew the diary close to her chest and held it gently. --- At the kitchen table, the two of them opened the diary. The pages were yellowed, but the writing was still legible. Small, neat handwriting. Handwriting too careful for a child, yet still bearing traces of childish innocence. Kenta began reading the first page. Not aloud, but with his eyes. Misaki read along from beside him. *Caught grasshoppers in the garden. Got four of them. Lilia wanted to touch them but couldn't, and she laughed.* Misaki's hand nearly stopped. (That gesture. Chasing grasshoppers, letting them go again—everything Reo taught me with his body. It's all written here.) She turned the page. *Grandmother baked cookies. They smelled like cinnamon.* She stopped again. When she'd shown him the cookie picture card, Reo had sniffed the air. She'd thought he remembered the scent. Now that memory and the words on the page overlapped in her mind. [gentle] "It's real." The words came out involuntarily. Kenta looked up. His expression asked "What?" [gentle] "This child wrote this. Actually." "Well, yes, but—" [gentle] "No, that's not what I mean. The things this child actually experienced are written here. The grasshoppers, the cookies...I know about them. I learned about them from this child in a different way." Kenta was quiet for a moment. His expression was unreadable—whether he believed her or doubted her. But he looked at Misaki's eyes and didn't press further. "Let's keep reading." With each page turned, Misaki's eyes grew warmer. She wasn't trying to cry. But she couldn't stop it. *I like looking at the moon. Lilia and I watched it together from the window. The moon that rises above Tsukimori Mountain is the most beautiful.* When she'd shown him the moon picture card, Reo's face had softened. He'd turned toward the window and placed his hand on his chest. Now she finally understood what that gesture meant. Not "I like it"—but "it's precious." Kenta followed the pages matter-of-factly. He was writing something in a notepad. There was no sign of emotion. But he sat beside Misaki and read silently with her. That was enough. The pages were thinning. The end was near. She turned the page. Misaki's hand stopped. *Grandfather went into Lilia's room again at night.* She read it. Then read it again. *I can hear footsteps. Lilia is crying. I'm scared and can't open the door. What am I supposed to do?* The letters were trembling. The right edge of the page was torn as if pressed down with force. She covered her mouth with her hand. Before she knew it, she was doing it. Beside her, Kenta's movements stopped. A long silence followed. [serious] "...This is..." His voice was low. "Abuse." The word fell into the air. She turned her gaze to the table surface. Looking at nothing in particular, she tried to accept what was spreading in her chest. Something like nausea rose up. *Lilia is crying. I'm scared and can't open the door.* She thought of the night Reo had stood before the door. A hundred years ago. The night he'd heard his sister crying but was too frightened to move. That night when he was twelve. The night he'd written down his terror in a child's handwriting, trembling. She remembered the pressed flower. The flower that had been in the wall's gap for a hundred years. She'd thought Lilia had given it to Reo—but now, she felt differently. Maybe Reo had given it to Lilia. With the meaning: I'm sorry. Along with the regret of not being able to open the door. Misaki slowly closed the diary. [serious] "It might be usable as evidence." [gentle] "...Yes." Her head understood. But that wasn't what mattered now. What Reo had carried for a hundred years—that weight was pressing down on her now with its full force. This child had known this terror alone all this time. Without being able to tell anyone, without anyone to put it into words, alone in this mansion— "Are you okay?" Kenta said it suddenly. His voice wasn't emotionless. It was slightly softer. [gentle] "I'm fine. Thank you." --- Night came. Kenta left. Misaki kept the diary. The room was quiet. The silhouette of Tsukimori Mountain floated beyond the window. The moon was out. The moon Reo