When the Detective Work is Done, I'll Die

Chapter 18

I arrived at school after a wobbly bike ride. Waiting there ahead of me was the president—a short-haired boy who looks almost athletic after a bit of sun. He waved at me, draped in a coat.

His recklessness faintly resembles Miiko's—not entirely, but a little. He isn't completely unreliable either.

"Hey! Hyoga, park your bike fast and let's wrap up club quick!"

"Y-yes!"

Maybe the reason we've gotten along so far is that we sometimes agree on things.

I wanted to finish quickly too—not because it's a hassle, but because the time Miiko appears in the smartphone app is drawing near. Three to four o'clock. I hesitate to open the app in front of everyone, especially in front of her brother Tatsuya. He doesn't even know Miiko is dead or that she became a Vtuber, so he'd distrust me. If he starts investigating her death because of that, something irreparable could happen.

"Huh? Hyoga? Why the grim face?"

"D-do I look grim?"

"Yeah..."

Bad, bad. I mustn't look troubled in front of the president. If I don't act cheerful, he'll get suspicious.

Wait—does the president also have a reason for wanting to finish club quickly... besides finding it a pain? It struck me. He usually dresses light. Even in the cold he'd say, "Today's club'll be over in a flash! No problem!" and walk around in a T-shirt. There's only one reason he's bundled up like this.

"President..."

"Miiko... hasn't been in touch at all. Maybe she's off goofing around town since it's the weekend... Her phone being off happens all the time. Gotta find her and hand over a battery."

Because he plans to be outside working for hours—on something connected to Miiko.

Should I really keep quiet? Let the president race through the cold streets without telling him? If I ignore it, everything ends. If he just thinks Miiko disappeared on her own, he won't be exposed to danger.

But my heart interferes. An angel living inside whispers, "It's cruel to make him run in the cold. You should tell him." No, I don't know if it's an angel. The feeling of not wanting to worry him might be a demon hurling him toward ruin.

I try to resist, but it won't let me. The angel forces my mouth to move.

"...Um, President..."

I ended up calling out to him.

The president, rummaging through his bag, shouts in mock dismay.

"Ah! Damn, damn! This isn't a battery—it's the TV remote!"

"...How did you mix those up...? President..."

Thanks to that comment, whatever I'd been about to say vanished from my mind. The words that had solidified inside me melted away, and I failed to tell him Miiko was dead.

Focus on club work for now. That's fine. I'll think about the president later. Wheeling my bike, I trudge after him. He seems to have been here before and knows where the bike lot is.

"All right, he's waiting at the entrance, so let's hurry!"

After parking our bikes, the president points out the spot—the students-only entrance visible even from the bike lot. A human shape stood stiffly, facing us.

When the president waved and yelled, "Hey! Sorry to keep you!" the figure crooked a finger. The repeated curling and thrusting must mean "come here."

Still, he could just shout or come over and speak.

Watching the figure with half-lidded eyes, the president explained with a grin.

"He's super quiet. Won't say a word unless it's absolutely necessary. Calls anything else a waste of effort."

"You know him well for someone from another school... This is a private academy with combined junior high and high school, right? So he wasn't a classmate."

"Ah... we went to the same cram school for entrance exams. Can't remember if we fought over study stuff or bumped into each other in the toilet, but one thing led to another and we started punching each other—and before we knew it we were friends."

"...Your fists formed a bond? At a cram school where grades rule..."

The moment we reached the entrance, the president slapped his friend—the long-fringed boy—on the shoulder. Just that, I thought, but then he forcibly linked arms. The friend looked annoyed and tried to escape, but it was too late.

The president then slung an arm around the boy's neck and began a more detailed introduction.

"This is Urakawa Naiki! My best friend! He's a year above you, your senior, and the guy who set up the 'computer club' schedule for our Vtuber research—our benefactor!"

The benefactor flailed in distress. Just because it's "friend's pace" doesn't mean you should do this.

"President, you're overdoing it."

"Ah... s-sorry..."

Once freed, Senior Urakawa exhaled once and bowed about three times. The angle was so small I couldn't tell what he was doing, but the president came over and said, "That's his way of thanks," so I bowed back.

I really thought everyone around me was nothing but weirdos.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Hyoga Toragawa, first-year in the Vtuber Research Society. Call me either Toragawa or Hyoga, whichever's easier."

That's what I thought, but the next line flipped my impression on its head.

"Monk... follow me."

He'd gone beyond the realm of weirdos. I almost stumbled in shock. He left me behind and marched into the school.

Knowing Senior Urakawa won't answer even if I speak, I point the way he went and tattle to the president.

"I did tell him my name just now."

"Well, he doesn't remember people's names."

"Also, he's only one year above me. From his point of view, am I still a monk?!"

"...He only listens to people he trusts. Probably didn't hear you say you're a first-year... I doubt he even really saw you."

"You're kidding...? And you still managed to coordinate with a guy like that? For this meeting, too..."

"Nah, I just heard a rumor that there's a club researching Vtubes, called his house, and rattled off my business—'I've got something I wanna ask'—that's all."

The president's a weirdo in his own right. If Senior Urakawa had thought, "Whatever, verbal's fine," or if he hadn't listened...

We'd have met nobody, standing forever in front of the locked school gate.

But I don't think the president ever considered that possibility.

Because he's incredibly odd—and incredibly pure. Once he decides to believe in someone, he trusts them like an idiot to the very end.

I wonder if I'm on that "list of people he chooses to believe in." If so, I want to tell him about Miiko and have him believe it isn't my fault...

As I agonize, the president murmurs,

"Well, if you spend your youth in a school this miserable, maybe you'll start thinking the right way to live is to see nothing, hear nothing, say nothing...?"

"Huh?"

I, who knew nothing of the storm sweeping through Jinrou Private High, simply stopped and kept staring at his back.