Sasao, a first-year high school student, hates doing the same things as everyone else. His childhood friend Pukka, whose real name is Habiho Yuka, loves to chat about naughty topics with him—but she attends school in the nurse's office after a conflict with a group from her middle school. Together, they join the Mystery Literature Club, founded by the club president, Tsubasa. The club has only four first-year members: Yangyang, a Chinese-Japanese boy skilled in Shaolin Kung Fu; Marble, the eccen
Mystery Literary Club in Action - The End of the Rainy Season's Accusation — A Cynic's Moment in the Spotlight
The sound of rain was quietly fading away.
The thick clouds that had blanketed Kyounomori City were slowly beginning to break apart in the darkness of night. The surface of the Kyounomori River, which ran through the city center, was gradually clearing from the murkiness of the days before. The prefectural Kyounomori High School building sat submerged in the damp air of the after-rain, streetlights blurring softly against the window glass.
Sashi Susao lay flat on his back on his bed.
A cool black cut. Narrow eyes. Dark skin. On the back of his left hand, faint traces of the taping from his middle school handball days still remained. Staring at the ceiling, he held his smartphone to his ear with his right hand. The air in the room was lukewarm, and each time the fan swung its head, the curtains stirred slightly.
(Today's hearing was a loss.)
The events in the student council room replayed in his mind over and over. Takizawa's thin smile. The moment Sanada, trembling, retracted his testimony. The student council president's cold voice. "Insufficient evidence." Those words echoed again and again in the depths of his ears.
"Susao, can you hear me?"
Tachitsubasa's voice came through the phone speaker. The president of the Mystery Literary Club. A tall girl with long reddish-brown hair tied back in a single bundle. Her voice carried a faint heaviness, different from her usual energetic tone.
"I can hear you. So, what's this call about? It's the middle of the night."
Susao answered bluntly. His voice was drier than he'd expected.
"It's not the middle of the night, it's only nine. Anyway, Yanyan got in touch with me. Apparently he stayed at school after everything to look into some things."
"I'm actually near Susao's house right now. The convenience store parking lot. The Wi-Fi's strong here."
Agenonozomi's cheerful voice cut in through the speaker. True to someone who practiced Shorinji Kempo, his voice had a crispness even late at night.
"Why the hell are you near my house? Go home."
Susao said, exasperated.
"Come on, don't worry about it. More importantly, listen. I found something interesting."
Agenonozomi's voice dropped slightly.
Susao sat up. The bed springs creaked.
"What did you find?"
"The record of Mr. Takizawa borrowing the gym storage key. The management log is kept next to the key box in the staff room. And there, Mr. Takizawa's handwritten signature appears twice. Once the day before the incident, and once on the day itself."
Susao tightened his grip on the phone.
(Twice.)
The words from Sanada's memo blinked in his mind. "The storage key—Takizawa has two."
"Both times, Takizawa's own handwriting?"
"Yeah. I compared the handwriting against the documents he's submitted to the staff room, so there's no mistake. And there's one more thing."
"What?"
"Behind the fire hydrant. The place where that file was. I searched again carefully today, and I found something on the ground. A small plastic bag. Inside was a scrap of the manuscript."
Susao's breathing stopped for a moment.
"A plastic bag?"
"Yeah. A small, transparent one. And it had fingerprints on it. They haven't been analyzed yet, but I think they're probably Mr. Takizawa's. He must have dropped it when he hid the file behind the fire hydrant."
Susao closed his eyes.
In his mind, the scattered pieces clicked into place, one after another.
(The scratch from the inside of the window.)
(The file behind the fire hydrant.)
(Sanada's memo.)
(The storage key—two of them.)
(And the plastic bag with Takizawa's fingerprints.)
"Susao, are you listening?"
Tachitsubasa's voice pulled him back to reality.
"Yeah. I'm listening."
Susao exhaled slowly. What had been pooling at the bottom of his lungs drained away.
"With this, the physical evidence line is connected. The window was opened from the inside. That proves it was an inside job using a duplicate key. The file behind the fire hydrant is the route Takizawa had Sanada hide it through. And the two storage keys, plus the handwritten signatures on the management log. This is the decisive physical evidence."
Susao's voice was calmer than even he expected.
Not with emotion, but with observation, he reassembled everything.
(I don't do the same things as other people.)
(That's why I'll find the truth my own way, too.)
Pukka's words echoed quietly in the depths of his chest.
"Tomorrow, I'll go to the student council again. I'll talk to the president directly. I'll have them call Mr. Takizawa and set up a retrial."
A strong determination settled into Tachitsubasa's voice.
"Are you sure you're okay? You took a pretty hard hit at today's hearing."
Susao was remembering. After the hearing, Tachitsubasa biting her lip, hanging her head. She must have been more hurt than anyone by her own justice spinning its wheels.
"I'm the club president. Everyone's working this hard—I can't be the only one moping. Besides, tomorrow I have my role. Leave it to me."
Tachitsubasa's voice wasn't trembling.
"Susao, tomorrow you take the lead. I want you to corner Takizawa your way."
Susao gripped his phone.
(I take the lead.)
Him—the contrarian who doesn't do the same things as other people.
"...Got it. I'll do it."
Susao answered briefly.
"Alright! Then tomorrow, the three of us go together! I'll bring all the evidence!"
Agenonozomi's cheerful voice rang through the night air.
"Go home already. Talking on the phone in a convenience store parking lot—someone's going to report you."
"It's fine, it's fine. I got permission from the clerk."
Susao couldn't help but smirk.
After the call ended, Susao lay back down on his bed.
He stared at the ceiling.
His phone buzzed briefly.
It was a message from Pukka.
"Do it your way."
Just one line.
Susao read those words over and over.
(My way.)
In middle school, on the handball team, no one ever watched him. A minor sport, a benchwarmer—not even his parents came to the stands.
(I hated doing the same things as other people.)
(That was an escape.)
(But now it's different.)
Susao placed his phone on his chest.
For the first time, he planted his contrariness in his chest as a weapon.
(Tomorrow, I'll end it all.)
The sound of rain was no longer audible.
Instead, the night wind flowed quietly in through the open window.
It was a lukewarm wind, just before the end of the rainy season.
Morning came.
A faint sunlight filtered into the Kyounomori High School building for the first time in days. White light leaked through the gaps in the clouds, making the wet asphalt gleam silver. The air was still humid, but the oppressive weight of the past days was gone.
Susao stood in front of the nurse's office.
He knocked—tap, tap.
"Can I come in?"
"Oh, come in. What do you want this early?"
Susao opened the door to the nurse's office.
The smell of disinfectant. White curtains. Two beds. On the sofa next to the small kitchenette, Habifuyuka sat.
A brown short bob. The left side pinned back with a hair clip. Large brown eyes, slightly upturned at the corners. Her small frame sank into the sofa, a single notebook resting on her knees.
"You looked terrible yesterday, but you're a little better today. Did you sleep?"
"Yeah, something like that. What are you reading this early?"
Susao sat in the chair across from Pukka.
Pukka held out the notebook from her lap toward Susao.
"I was thinking I'd give this to you."
Susao took the notebook.
The cover was plain brown. A thick, handmade notebook. It was the one Pukka had shown him before, saying it was "the thing that became the basis for the erotic novel."
"Take responsibility and dispose of this. I wrote it, but it's something you tried to protect."
Pukka's voice was quiet.
Susao stared at the notebook.
How much time had Pukka spent writing this? In the midst of the bullying in middle school, alone in the nurse's office, had she been putting words into this notebook?
(Protect.)
(What I tried to protect.)
Susao held the notebook to his chest.
"No. I'm not disposing of it."
Pukka looked up.
"What?"
"This time, I'm not going to protect it—I'm going to bring it out into the open, in the right form."
Susao looked straight into Pukka's eyes.
"I'll make sure the fact that you wrote it remains properly. Even if parts get cut, your name and the fact that you wrote it—I'll make it so they can't be erased."
Pukka's eyes widened for a moment.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
"You're the kind of guy who can say things like that, huh."
Her smile had its usual dimples.
"Shut up. Even I say serious things once in a while."
Susao said bluntly, hiding his embarrassment.
"Thank you, Susao."
Pukka's voice trembled just slightly.
Susao stood up, the notebook held to his chest.
"I'm going. I'll end everything today."
"Yeah. Go do it your way."
Pukka said that to Susao's back.
As he left the nurse's office, Susao noticed that his footsteps weren't heavy for the first time.
In his chest was the weight of Pukka's notebook.
It wasn't a burden—it was a weapon.
After school.
The three of them gathered in an empty classroom in the special wing.
Faint traces of chalk equations remained on the blackboard. In the center of the classroom, where desks and chairs were neatly arranged, Tachitsubasa turned to face the other two.
"I've arranged the retrial. I spoke directly to the student council president and got them to call Mr. Takizawa. After school, in the student council room."
Tachitsubasa's reddish-brown hair gleamed gold in the setting sun. There was no trace of yesterday's gloom in her voice.
"Nice work. How'd you convince them?"
Susao asked as he perched on a desk.
"I told the truth. About how in middle school, I was a benchwarmer on the soccer team and never got to play in a single official match. How they called me 'morale-building personnel.' How my justice is just the flip side of the humiliation from back then."
Tachitsubasa spoke while looking out the window.
"The student council president listened properly. And then they said this. 'Tachitsubasa, your justice might spin its wheels. But there's someone in your club who has a way that doesn't spin its wheels, isn't there?'"
Susao listened in silence.
"So, Susao. Today, you take the lead. My justice spins its wheels. But your way doesn't. I'll stand behind you, and as club president, I'll protect the members."
Tachitsubasa looked straight into Susao's eyes.
Susao looked back into hers.
(The president is relying on me.)
Him—the contrarian who doesn't do the same things as other people.
"Got it. I'll take the lead. You stand next to the student council president and assist me."
"Leave it to me! I absolutely won't cry today!"
Tachitsubasa said, clenching her fist.
"You can cry if you want. If you do, I'll lend you my handkerchief."
Agenonozomi said, laughing.
"And Yanyan. You've got all the evidence?"
Susao turned to Agenonozomi.
"Leave it to me. The window photos, the plastic bag from behind the fire hydrant, the copy of the management log—I've got it all."
Agenonozomi patted the backpack he was carrying.
"And this too. I printed it at the convenience store near Susao's house yesterday. An evidence list. I made it."
Agenonozomi handed Susao a sheet of paper.
Susao took it.
A carefully organized evidence list. The window scratch, the file, the memo, the key, the management log, the plastic bag. What each piece of evidence proved was summarized in bullet points.
"You're good at this kind of thing. Surprising."
"Well, don't worry about it. I'm your partner, after all. If you take the lead, I just support you."
Agenonozomi flashed a grin, white teeth showing.
"...Thanks, both of you."
Susao murmured quietly.
(I'm not alone.)
(This is where I belong.)
The Mystery Literary Club.
His place—where he doesn't do the same things as other people.
For the first time, Susao became aware of what that meant, deep in his chest.
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