The morning chill drifted through the rotary at the north exit of Kagerou Station. Several days had passed since Hinata's chaos. Arisu remembered that night when Seiji came every morning. The feel of the counter floor. The hardness when she hugged her knees. The sound of the pendulum. They all spun around in her sleep, and she woke at dawn. Monday morning, Arisu headed to Komugi Doki out of habit. One loaf of sandwich bread for three hundred twenty yen. A cream bun for one hundred eighty yen. For seven years, she'd stopped by before work. As Arisu passed under the noren curtain of Komugi Doki, Fujikawa Shinichi was just arranging bread on a tray. Sixty-three years old, white apron, the smell of flour. The man who opened the shop at five in the morning. "[surprised]Oh, Arisu-chan. I heard you got in a magazine?" There was no malice. That was the blade. She could tell there was no ill intent. He was just asking. As neighborhood gossip, as small talk. That innocence pressed somewhere deep in Arisu's chest. "[gentle]……So it seems" "[gentle]That must have been tough. But well, they say your name wasn't printed" Arisu reached for the cream bun, then stopped. She didn't buy it. She only said "I'll come again" and left the shop. She heard Fujikawa start to say something behind her, but she didn't look back. She walked down Hikari Street. Passing in front of Kusunoki Pharmacy, Kusunoki Sachie was watering potted plants in front of the store. Seventy-one years old, the oldest regular in the shopping district. The moment their eyes met, Kusunoki's gaze slipped away. Contempt. Pity. Or perhaps neither—just confusion about "how to respond." None of it mattered. The problem wasn't the meaning of that gaze. For seven years, she'd walked this shopping district every morning, gone to work, come home, and all of it had accumulated to create the outline of "Hinata's Arisu-chan"—and with Seiji's single article, that outline was being repainted into a different shape in the eyes of others. That was the sensation. Arisu walked with her head down. —— Wednesday night, Hinata's customer traffic was quiet. Three at the counter seats, one at a table. That was all. The three regulars who usually came on Thursday didn't show. Friday, the two who always appeared on weekends didn't come either. And Saturday afternoon. After Yoshioka Noriko from the day shift left, as Arisu was prepping, Yoshiaki sat at the far end of the counter, tilting a glass of sweet potato shochu. It was rare for him to drink during the day. The fifty-eight-year-old man's back looked smaller than usual. "[sad]……We've been getting fewer customers lately" It was like talking to himself. It wasn't even clear if he was speaking to Arisu. "[gentle]Yes, we have" She answered without stopping her knife work. Yoshiaki tilted his glass. He didn't say anything more. Looking at the wood grain of the counter, he started to say something, swallowed it, and fell silent again. Arisu had no words to blame Yoshiaki. At the same time, she had no words to comfort him either. For seven years, she'd thought this shop was her place. That customers came, that Yoshiaki was here, that these were the reasons she existed. But now she felt the outline of that "reason" crumbling. The words Seiji had written—"seven years consumed without will"—were seeping in from the inside, not the outside. She wanted to say it was different. But she couldn't put into words what was different yet. That night too, Kawase came. Near closing time, he sat at the counter, ordered two coffees, and said nothing. When Arisu changed his water, he said "Thank you very much." That was all. He was just there. Dark brown hair cut short. Serious black eyes that occasionally gazed intently at Arisu across the counter. She could tell he was trying to say something, then stopping. That sincerity was heavy. She hated herself even more for finding it heavy. He was worried about her. She understood that. But there was a part of her that couldn't quite accept that kindness, and the guilt of not being able to accept it piled up. Kawase stood up a little before closing, bowed, and left. He said nothing. —— Sunday morning. As Arisu was about to leave in front of Corpo Misogi, Ryo was standing on the street. Ash brown hair roughly tied back, hands shoved in his pockets. Anger seeped from his face. The way his emotions showed on his face hadn't changed since middle school. "[angry]You don't need to be in this town. Come to Osaka with me" It was direct. No greeting, no preamble, just that. "You can find work in Osaka. If you come over there, you can get away from that guy too. Everything gets settled" As Arisu listened to Ryo's words, she saw the habit behind them. I'll protect you. So come with me. It had always been like that since middle school. When Ryo said "for Arisu's sake," there was always a premise of "I decide" embedded in it. If she went to Osaka, she could get away from Seiji. That might be true. Ryo would be by her side. That might be true too. But that wouldn't be something Arisu had chosen. (That's right. I have to choose.) Arisu traced that path of thought for the first time this morning. Before, she would have answered "I see" or smiled vaguely and let it pass. But this morning, something stopped. "[gentle]I'll think about it for a bit" "[angry]What is there to think about" Ryo's voice rose. His large upturned eyes narrowed with irritation. Arisu didn't answer. She took the key to the door and went back inside. She locked it. "[angry]Hey, Arisu! We're not done talking!" His voice reached her through the door. Arisu walked to where the cactus was. She watered it with a small watering can. A six-mat room, a shelf by the window. A single potted cactus. Something no one had told her to care for, something she hadn't done for anyone else—something Arisu had tended for seven years. Staring intently at the cactus, Arisu whispered softly. "[gentle]You never said anything for seven years, did you" Ryo's voice continued from outside the door, but the cactus said nothing. That was, somehow, a little easier. —— Wednesday, deep night. Hinata's closing work finished just after eleven. As Arisu passed through the shopping district and entered the alley toward Corpo Misogi, there was a figure at the bottom of the apartment's outside stairs. The glow of a cigarette flickered orange in the darkness. It was Seiji. Black leather jacket, no camera. Both hands in his pockets, his back against the stair railing. He didn't move when he saw Arisu. He was just there. "[cold]I didn't write anything wrong" His voice was quiet. Without emotion, the words came directly. "[cold]You have no will. That's a fact. What I wrote is what I saw" Arisu stopped walking. The cigarette smoke dissolved into the night air. Seiji's dark gray eyes looked straight at Arisu. Those sharp, gleaming eyes. Tonight too, this man blurred the boundary between the eyes of a journalist and the eyes of a person. Something hardened deep in her chest. Not hot, not scared—something more fundamental, something that quietly solidified from the core. "[serious]……That's not for you to decide" Her voice came out. It was trembling. Before she could even confirm if she meant it, the words came out. "[serious]It's not your decision" Silence. Seiji crushed the cigarette under his foot. Then he slowly approached Arisu. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. "[whispers]You wanted me to see you, didn't you" His voice was a whisper. Close. Seiji's eyes were right there. Arisu couldn't move. Did she want to be seen, or not to be seen? Even now, she still didn't know. The night at Tsukimori Greenery flashed through her mind. The murmur right after the kiss: "I knew it." That confirming gaze. She couldn't pull away. The sensation of his fingers gripping her wrist—she couldn't tell if it was warm or cold. ——At that moment. The sound of footsteps thundered down from the upper floor. Clatter, clatter, clatter—rough footsteps. Someone turned the corner at the second-floor landing and came running down at full speed. A dull crack echoed through the night alley. Seiji's jaw snapped back. He staggered sideways, his back hitting the apartment wall, and he dropped to his knees. It was Ryo. His ash brown hair was disheveled. His upturned eyes were narrowed with anger. His fist was still clenched as he looked down at Seiji. "[angry]You bastard. Don't you dare come near Arisu" Seiji wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his finger. He slowly stood up. He looked at Ryo. Then he looked at Arisu. Just for a moment. There was no expression of victory in those eyes. There was only the face of a man whose something was breaking. Just seeing that, Seiji walked into the darkness of the alley. His leather jacket receded, turned the corner, and disappeared. Silence returned. "[angry]Good. That guy won't come back anymore" Ryo placed both hands on Arisu's shoulders. Facing her directly, firmly. "[serious]I'll protect you. Don't see that guy anymore. Understand" Arisu brushed his hands away. Quietly. But clearly. Her body moved. Before she could think, her hands moved. From the first episode until tonight, Arisu had never moved her body like that. Ryo froze. His large upturned eyes opened in bewilderment. "[surprised]……Why" Arisu had no answer. Before an answer to "why" could come, her body had moved. But she didn't think it was wrong. "[gentle]……I'm sorry" It wasn't an apology. There were just no other words. Arisu went up the stairs, leaving Ryo behind. She walked down the second-floor hallway and turned the key to room 206. "[angry]Arisu! I'm talking to you!" Ryo's voice reached her from outside. Arisu didn't respond. She pressed her back against the door and slid down to sit. She didn't turn on the lights in the room. In the dark six-mat space, she could see the bare trees along the Misogi River through the window. The streetlight cast the shadows of branches on the ground. Ryo's voice reached her once more. Then his footsteps faded away and disappeared. It became quiet. Arisu sat in the dark room and breathed. At that moment, something scraped against the floor near her feet. An envelope slid out from the edge of the bookshelf. ——Miyano Chieko. Her mother's name was in the upper left. The address of the family home in Funabashi. The one she hadn't been able to open that day, the one she'd tucked between the paperbacks on the shelf. In the darkness, Arisu picked up the envelope. One second. Two seconds. Tonight, she opened it. One sheet of stationery. Only one line was written. ——You were always doing what someone else told you to do. Your mother was the same. But that won't work. Her mother's handwriting trembled slightly. On the day it was written, her mother's hand had been trembling. Arisu could tell. Arisu cried out loud. It was the first time. On the night of the first episode, she'd heard a woman's scream through the wall and thought she'd never screamed like that. From that night until tonight, she'd always thought that. Tonight, her voice came out. She still didn't know what she wanted. She didn't know who to choose, whether she should stay in this town, nothing. But crying, something like a thin thread remained inside Arisu. She didn't want Seiji, Ryo, or Kawase to decide for her. That was all that remained, not disappearing, in the gaps of her crying. When she stopped crying and looked up. For some reason, the sensation of Seiji grabbing her wrist and Kawase's profile as he silently drank coffee at the night counter both floated up at the same time. Nothing was organized. The two images existed side by side, neither disappearing. Not which one to choose, but the very question of what she was feeling itself floated in the dark room, swaying without an answer. The cactus sat quietly on the shelf by the