Chapter 16: Two Incidents

Takada Shōji, after a long 'frowning in deep thought' moment, suddenly slapped his knee. “Wait a minute! Isn’t this exactly what I was saying? The whole story’s full of holes because Kimura-san just made it up! That’s it, isn’t it, Senpai?”

Yomikawa Tsuko didn’t grace him with a direct answer. Instead, her cold gaze shifted to Ōgami Yōsuke. “Ōgami-kun, you stated earlier that Fujita-kun was, in fact, injured by that falling chandelier. You used this to counter Takada-kun’s theory that the injuries were faked. Could you elaborate on your meaning?”

“So,” Kana interjected, her voice soft but edged with a new suspicion, “does this mean Ōgami-san also thinks the whole story is a fabrication?” If that was true, then his earlier dismissal of Takada’s idea felt less like logical debate and more like… deliberate obfuscation. For reasons she couldn’t quite pinpoint, her initial unease around Ōgami Yōsuke was solidifying into a distinct dislike.

Junko shot Kana a quick, disapproving frown before jumping to Ōgami’s defense. “Now, hold on. Maybe Ōgami-kun has a different angle. He never explicitly said the entire story was made up.”

Ōgami Yōsuke, though slightly perplexed by the sudden frost from Kana, offered his explanation, his voice calm and measured. “My current hypothesis is that Kimura-san’s… experiences… and the unfortunate accidents that befell Fujita-san and Itō-san are, in fact, two entirely separate and distinct incidents. It is merely the unfortunate coincidence of their timing that has led those involved to conflate them, to weave them into a single, terrifying narrative. As for fabrication… I believe Itō-san, subjectively, is not attempting to deceive. However, objectively speaking, it’s highly probable that he has… embellished… certain aspects of his own ordeal for dramatic effect.”

“Regarding Kimura-san’s alleged sleepwalking,” Ōgami continued, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow, “its authenticity remains… uncertain. Without concrete, verifiable evidence, I cannot, at this juncture, make a definitive judgment.”

“Two separate incidents?” Yomikawa Tsuko murmured, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. For a fleeting instant, her mind flashed back to the disorienting chaos of the night her own hair had been… exchanged. A mystery that, to this day, remained stubbornly unsolved.

Ōgami Yōsuke nodded, oblivious to her internal distraction. “Precisely. Kimura-san’s apparent somnambulism is one distinct event. The misfortunes that struck Fujita-san and Itō-san, however, are, in my assessment, entirely unrelated to Kimura-san’s nocturnal wanderings, the cave on Mount Karasu-Go, or any other supposedly supernatural element. Only by decoupling these events can we begin to unravel the inherent contradictions within the overall narrative.”

Kana’s frown deepened. “But… can it really be such a perfect, terrible coincidence? And Itō-san and Fujita-san… they didn’t do anything to bring bad luck on themselves. And Kimura-san even warned them beforehand. It just… it doesn’t feel right, does it?”

“And if the incidents are unrelated,” Takada Shōji challenged, jumping back into the fray, “then what about the crows? How do you explain a whole flock of crows attacking Itō-san’s window?”

Ōgami Yōsuke calmly retrieved his phone, tapping the screen to bring up some saved information. “I anticipated that query. Crows colliding with glass, while unsettling, is not an extraordinarily rare phenomenon. Glass, particularly at certain angles and under specific lighting conditions, can create reflections that birds misinterpret – as open sky, or even as a rival bird. It’s plausible that after Itō-san extinguished his lights, his window, at that precise moment, caught some transient external light source, a reflection that provoked the crows’ aggressive behavior.”

He paused, letting that sink in before adding, “Furthermore, crows are remarkably intelligent creatures, known for their long memories and, shall we say, their capacity for holding grudges. If, on his way home that evening, Itō-san had, perhaps, antagonized the crows in some way – thrown a stone, shouted at them – it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that their actions were a form of… retaliatory harassment.”

“In short,” Ōgami concluded, a note of finality in his voice, “while disturbing, I do not believe the incident with the crows can be definitively classified as paranormal.” One of the primary reasons he’d considered seeking Kishida Masayoshi’s assistance was to obtain a more detailed, objective account of Itō’s injury. Itō’s own narrative was hazy on certain points, potentially omitting crucial details. If he could verify that aspect, the entire edifice of the supernatural explanation might begin to crumble.

It was Ōgami’s nature, his intellectual imperative, to dissect such mysteries, to lay bare the underlying cause and effect, preferably with swift efficiency – within a week, ideally. It was a source of constant, low-grade frustration that no one else in this club seemed to share his enthusiasm for such rigorous, timely investigation.

He looked towards Yomikawa Tsuko, a silent question in his eyes. “Senpai, your own thoughts on this matter?”

Yomikawa, naturally, had no profound insights to offer, or at least, none she was willing to share. Her own agenda, her own intricate plans, consumed far too much of her mental bandwidth to waste precious energy on this particular schoolyard drama. “I was merely contemplating our club’s activities for the upcoming weekend,” she said, her voice smooth and noncommittal.

Kana blinked, surprised. “But… aren’t we proceeding with Junko-chan’s plan? The surveillance footage, the route tracing?”

“In addition to that, yes,” Yomikawa Tsuko said, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. “We might also consider… a little excursion up Mount Karasu-Go. To locate this rather intriguing cave Kimura-kun described. I confess, it has piqued my curiosity.”

“Oh. I see.” Kana visibly relaxed, a small sigh of relief escaping her. For a moment, she’d worried their exciting weekend plans were about to be shelved.

Takada Shōji, ever loyal, immediately voiced his enthusiastic support. “A hike? Excellent idea, Senpai! Mount Karasu-Go is perfectly safe, really…” He trailed off, the memory of Kimura’s harrowing tale belatedly surfacing. A sheepish grin spread across his face.

Ōgami Yōsuke, however, frowned, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “A hike? This weekend? I had actually intended to visit the abandoned shrine of Lord Mask-Taker. Frankly, compared to Kimura-kun’s rather… localized… experiences, the ancient legend of Lord Mask-Taker might hold secrets of far greater significance, far more worthy of our investigative efforts.”

This one, Yomikawa Tsuko mused, her eyes narrowing for the briefest of instants before her placid mask slipped back into place, he truly is obsessed with the legend of Lord Mask-Taker, isn’t he? A dangerous fixation.

Junko, however, seemed entirely unfazed, almost gleeful. “An abandoned shrine, you say? Oh, that sounds wonderfully creepy! Prime territory for all sorts of supernatural shenanigans! And this whole ‘knowing the story brings misfortune’ curse… well, we’ve all definitely ticked that box, haven’t we? Venturing into such a notoriously dangerous place, especially now… something delightfully dreadful might actually happen!”

Ōgami Yōsuke merely shrugged, “And wouldn’t that be the perfect opportunity to empirically test the validity of that particular component of the narrative?”

“After all,” he continued, a more serious, analytical tone returning, “that specific element – the misfortune befalling those who know the tale – that was most likely an embellishment, wasn’t it? Something Itō-san and Fujita-san concocted, based on some offhand remark Kimura-san might have made. They were both injured, traumatized. It’s entirely plausible that their subjective belief in Kimura-san’s ominous warnings was… amplified… by their own unfortunate experiences.”

“So, you’re saying we’re all walking targets now?” Takada didn’t sound particularly alarmed; in fact, there was a hint of excitement in his voice. “Using ourselves as bait… well, that was kind of the unspoken plan all along, wasn’t it?”

Junko giggled, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Ōgami. “I simply can’t wait to see what delightful misfortune befalls Ōgami-kun first. You absolutely must tell me all the gory details afterwards.”

“My standing hypothesis,” Ōgami Yōsuke stated, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head, the picture of unconcerned skepticism, “is that precisely nothing will occur. It’s akin to those ancient superstitions, isn’t it? The notion that dropping one’s chopsticks during a meal, or a mirror inexplicably shattering, will inevitably lead to some dire consequence. People subscribe to such beliefs primarily due to psychological suggestion. Everyone experiences days where they feel inexplicably unlucky, don’t they?”

Junko couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose you have a point.”

Kana, who had been uncharacteristically silent throughout this exchange, suddenly looked up, a strange, almost haunted expression clouding her usually bright features. “You can’t be so certain of that,” she said, her voice a low, cryptic murmur.

Ōgami Yōsuke blinked, taken aback by her sudden, somber interjection. “Eh? Why do you say that, Kana-san?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Takada Shōji scoffed, a smirk on his face. “In all the best horror movies, it’s always the smug skeptic like you, the one who arrogantly dismisses the ancient curses and the dire warnings… they’re always the first to get picked off. Usually in some spectacularly gruesome fashion, designed to terrify everyone else into believing.”

Junko pouted, completely dismissing Kana’s unsettling remark. “Oh, that entirely depends on the type of movie! If it’s a story that requires intelligence, a clever protagonist to unravel the mystery… then Ōgami-kun would undoubtedly be the hero, the main character!”

Yomikawa Tsuko’s gaze drifted from Ōgami Yōsuke’s confident, skeptical face to Kana’s now-silent, troubled one. This little club of theirs, with its volatile mix of personalities and hidden currents… it was becoming more and more… entertaining. She truly looked forward to observing what transpired next.

“In any event,” she said, her voice smoothly cutting through the lingering tension, “the matter of the proposed excursion to the mountain can be discussed in more detail later. It seems everyone has… contributed quite thoroughly… for today. If there is nothing further, let us consider this meeting adjourned.”