Chapter 3: The Target
“Wh-what? Ćgami-kun actually thought Senpai was a murderer?” Kana’s voice was a shocked whisper, her eyes darting to Ćgami YĆsuke with a newfound wariness. Fear, sharp and sudden, made her take an involuntary step back.
“That’s right. Ćgami-kun’s deduction was rather… inventive. The only flaw, unfortunately, was that it pointed in entirely the wrong direction,” Yomikawa stated, her voice a calm, flat surface that betrayed no ripple of anger. But this very stillness, this unnatural composure, only tightened the knot of dread in Ćgami YĆsuke’s stomach.
The threat you don’t see coming is always the worst. The old saying echoed in his mind with chilling clarity. There was nothing he could do but bow his head lower, his apology almost a desperate plea. “I am so profoundly sorry. My arrogance, my ignorance… I’m truly reflecting on it!”
“Are you out of your mind, you bastard!” The air cracked. Takada ShĆji, his face a mask of fury, lunged across the small space, his hands shooting out to grab Ćgami YĆsuke by the collar. “Senpai went out there alone that day, risked her own safety to protect us, and this is how you repay her? By suspecting her!”
“Ah—!” Kana and Junko scrambled back, startled by Takada’s explosive rage. Junko looked like she wanted to intervene, to stop Takada’s raw display of violence, but one look at his face, flushed a dangerous crimson with anger, and she bit her lip, silent.
Pinned by Takada’s furious glare, Ćgami YĆsuke was speechless. Takada was taller, stronger, and the grip on his collar was both painful and deeply humiliating. Yet, a part of him understood the rage. He deserved it.
“Takada-kun, what do you think you’re doing? Release Ćgami-kun. Now.” Yomikawa’s voice cut through the tension, sharp as a shard of ice. This wasn’t part of her plan. A lesson for Ćgami YĆsuke, yes. A public beating? No. Violence, in her carefully ordered world, was a messy, inefficient tool, favored only by those with more muscle than brains.
“But Senpai, this… this snake!” Takada ShĆji seethed, clearly unconvinced. If they hadn’t been confined by four walls, his fists would already be connecting.
“This… this isn’t right, fighting like this…” Junko stammered, her worried gaze fixed on Ćgami. She subtly nudged Kana. “Say something.”
“Ah… y-yes, he’s right. Whatever happened, we should listen to Senpai,” Kana managed, catching Junko’s cue. She shot a quick, questioning glance at Junko, a silent “Why are you defending him?”
“Takada-kun, are you trying to broadcast this to the entire school? Stop this instant!” Yomikawa’s voice hardened further, each word laced with the undeniable authority of the club president. Junko and Kana’s timid interjections had done nothing.
It was hard to say whether it was her command or if Takada’s own fury had simply burned itself out. He snorted, then roughly shoved Ćgami YĆsuke away. His face was still a thundercloud. “If you don’t offer Senpai a sincere, proper apology, I swear, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Are you alright, Ćgami-kun?” Junko rushed to his side, helping him straighten his clothes. Then, as if suddenly aware she might be showing too much concern, her tone sharpened. “What were you thinking, suspecting Senpai? If you said anything disrespectful, you’d better apologize properly, right now!”
“Ćgami-kun didn’t actually utter anything disrespectful,” Yomikawa Tsuko interjected, her eyes coldly observing the little drama. Junko’s feelings were now transparent. Impressive, Ćgami-kun, she thought with a flicker of detached amusement. Not just intelligent, but a new transfer student and already he’s collected a devoted admirer. Though whether Junko is his preferred ‘type’ is another question entirely.
“You told the police?!” Takada ShĆji looked like he was about to erupt all over again.
“I only spoke to one officer,” Ćgami explained hastily, desperate to de-escalate. “And he promised it wouldn’t go any further. I didn’t share any specific details or clues,” he added, clearly wanting to shrink the target on his back. “The point is, Senpai provided a solid alibi. My theory was proven completely wrong.” He bowed again, his forehead almost touching his knees.
“Well,” Yomikawa Tsuko said, “Since Ćgami-kun appears to be genuinely remorseful, we’ll consider this matter closed. For now, I forgive you.” She knew, with a cold certainty, that excessive harshness now would be counterproductive. A severe dressing-down would feel like a punishment. And punishment, once endured, often brought a sense of absolution, diluting true remorse. No, a gentle, almost magnanimous forgiveness – that was the key. It would fester, make him question, make him truly reflect. Just like with Kishida Masayoshi.
“Eh? R-really? Senpai, you’re forgiving me… just like that? Are you sure…?” Ćgami YĆsuke looked up, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. He’d braced himself for a far worse fate, perhaps even the ultimate humiliation of a dogeza, especially after she’d aired his blunder so publicly.
“Senpai, are you really just going to let him off the hook?” Takada grumbled, his dissatisfaction still simmering. To him, this felt too easy, too cheap for the offense Ćgami had committed. He didn’t usually have issues with Ćgami, but this… this was different.
But Yomikawa Tsuko gave no one an opening to reignite the conflict. Her dark, unblinking gaze remained fixed on Ćgami. “It appears Ćgami-kun has learned his lesson. To conserve our precious time, we will move on.” She then swept her gaze around the room. “I’ve been absent for a few days, and I gather there have been no formal club activities. So, for the remainder of our time today, let’s delve into the latest… hot topic.”
Ćgami YĆsuke sagged back into his chair, a wave of visible relief washing over him. He remained silent, though, a subdued shadow of his usual self.
It was Junko, ever the eager one, who broke the silence, perhaps sensing the need to inject some energy back into the room. “Ah, Senpai, you must mean the ‘Sleepwalker’ incident! Everyone’s been whispering about it.”
Yomikawa Tsuko crossed her arms, one leg swinging almost imperceptibly. “Precisely. I’ve heard whispers that this… condition… is not merely strange, but terrifyingly so. That misfortune befalls not only those who experience it directly, but anyone who learns the complete truth of it. Is there any substance to these rumors?”
“Those are the whispers, yes,” Junko confirmed, tapping a thoughtful finger against her chin. “Whether anyone has actually suffered simply from knowing… that part is still shrouded in mystery. It has a rather… Lovecraftian feel to it, don’t you think? Knowledge that corrupts, or destroys.”
Yomikawa Tsuko, in truth, felt little personal curiosity about this supposed ‘Sleepwalker’. But it was a perfect distraction, a task to occupy the club members – especially Ćgami YĆsuke. “The specifics, then,” she pressed. “Takada-kun, what have you heard?”
Takada ShĆji blinked, caught off guard. “Eh? Me? I’ve only heard the name, really. No details.”
“Oh? And here I thought you were so devoted to our club’s activities,” Yomikawa couldn’t resist the small, sharp jab.
Takada scratched his head, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He dredged up the single piece of concrete information he possessed. “Well, I heard it involves a first-year, Class 1-E. A boy named Kimura ShĆta, from the soccer club. Apparently, a bit like you, Senpai, he was out sick last Thursday and Friday. Some of his soccer teammates went to check on him on Friday, and that’s where most of these creepy stories are leaking from.”
A new glint in Yomikawa Tsuko’s eyes. She rose slowly, placing her slender hands flat on the table, leaning forward slightly. “Is that so? Then our path is clear. We investigate. Unearthing the truth behind this ‘Sleepwalker’ incident – that, my friends, is our club’s next official target.”
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