Chapter 17: Black Stone (1)

The meeting spot was in front of the school gate. I lifted my parasol and glanced around. On the grounds, food stalls were already calling out to customers, and events were underway inside the tents.

From the gate, a steady stream of what looked like outside visitors poured into the school. At the same time, large groups of students charged into the crowd, handing out flyers. Shouts rose here and there, and the mass of people surged forward like a single, writhing creature.

…In hindsight, choosing this place as a meeting point might’ve been reckless. But if handing out flyers counts as “promotion,” does that make it backstage work? It feels more like the front lines… If it’s like this here, what in the world are the classrooms—the real front lines—like…?

For now, I pressed myself against the wall beside the gate, snapped my parasol shut with a fwap, and scanned the crowd packed with people of all ages.

Yeah… trying to find the person I’m meeting in this mess is going to be a pain…

But gradually, I started to feel eyes turning toward me. A murmur of whispers—rustle rustle, whisper whisper—seemed to rise around me. Sensing it, I hurriedly opened my parasol again and shrank beneath its shade. I could feel my face heating up. It even felt like a breeze brushed against my legs. My outfit shouldn’t be that different from my uniform… if anything, I’m wearing knee-highs, so there’s less exposed skin than usual.

…Kitatsuji-san, please hurry… I can’t handle being alone dressed like this. At this point, even the protagonist would do. Help me, Takahiro. Actually, the fact that I got here first… seriously, that guy’s terrible at being a protagonist… At the very least, I wish he’d show up before Kitatsuji-san…

Before long, I spotted Kitatsuji-san making her way through the crowd, so I waved my parasol as a signal. Not that it matters, but this parasol even has frills along the edges. It’s ridiculously light—if I used it on a typhoon day, it’d probably snap instantly. Still, considering it’s the only thing keeping me from being completely exposed to public view, calling it my partner wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Honestly, it’s already contributed more than Takahiro.

Fortunately, she noticed me. Unbelievably, she began dashing through the crowd, parting people as she went—about the speed of a small scooter—growing larger in my field of vision with each step.

Then she rushed right up to me, slammed on the brakes, and stared at me with sparkling eyes.

…Wait—how did she even get here just now? Didn’t she knock, like, three people out of the way?

"What is with that hairstyle!? And that outfit!? Aren’t you even cuter than usual!?"

"U-um, someone from my class did it for me… ugh, and please don’t look at me too much…"

Right now, my hair is styled into fluffy, slightly brown twin-tails tied with ribbons. …It’s shameless. Extremely shameless. When I saw myself in the mirror earlier, it was dangerous. The black frilly outfit stands out against my pale skin—it’s like a Western doll. And because of that, it’s embarrassing. I instinctively covered my face with both hands.

Apparently, the reason for the ribbons is that a classmate once saw me wearing them in the shopping district. That person pushed up their glasses and passionately argued their case in front of the whole class, and this outfit was the result. Who even was that? The moment I find them, I’m beating them senseless.

But seriously, this outfit is dangerous. What’s dangerous is that I might’ve surpassed the original Shione-chan in terms of sheer cuteness… Our class is terrifying. Proof? In the fifteen minutes I spent waiting for Kitatsuji-san, even while hiding under my parasol, I got approached nine times—and I lost count of how many photos were taken. Stop it. Please stop documenting my future blackmail material!

"Shall we go?"

"Ah, sorry. I’m still waiting for a friend… honestly, what is Takahiro-kun doing…? I want to get going already…"

What is that guy even doing? I can’t move from this hellscape without him. Making your date wait and irritating them—what are you, Miyamoto Musashi? Oh, because this is a double date with me and Kitatsuji-san, is it “dual-wielding”? Idiot. I don’t need that kind of witty message right now. Besides, in this cultural festival, you’re more like quadruple-wielding.

Kitatsuji-san glanced at the people staring in our direction, then at me shrinking under my parasol. After a moment, she suddenly looked up. I followed her gaze, but there was nothing there—just thin clouds drifting slowly from right to left across the sky.

"Hey, isn’t the wind kind of cold today?"

"…Y-yeah… I guess…?"

I wasn’t sure why she suddenly said that, but I nodded anyway. Then, something warm gently wrapped around my right hand. When I looked down, I realized our hands were clasped together.

Unlike Takahiro, it was natural. Effortless.

She smiled softly.

"If we stay like this, won’t you feel less cold? Though I suppose it might make you a little embarrassed instead."

"No, it’s not embarrassing at all—"

"Then hold your head high. If people want to look, let them look. Today, you’re so undeniably cute that you could stand beside me and still be the star."

Saying that, she stepped slightly in front of me, as if shielding me from the crowd, spreading her arms with a smile. Today, she wore a soft white knit sweater, blue denim, black boots, and a black fur coat—a slightly masculine look.

Actually, when she wears jeans, her legs are ridiculously long!

"I should’ve said this earlier, but your outfit today is wonderful too, Kitatsuji-san."

"Oh? Thank you."

At that moment, I spotted a figure running toward us through the crowd, breathing heavily.

You’re late! What were you even doing!?

"Sorry, Shione—when I tried to get closer, I got knocked away by something…"

"Ah—yeah… I saw. That was you, Takahiro-kun. It’s fine, just get over here."

"And this is the friend who’ll be walking around with us today—Takahiro-kun. He may not look it, but he’s a really good person! Perfect marriage material. Please take good care of him! For the long haul! Come on, Takahiro-kun, introduce yourself properly. You might have to greet her family someday."

"Uh, yeah… I’m Ryuzoji Takahiro. Shione’s childhood friend."

"Nice to meet you. I’m Kitatsuji."

"Uh… it’s not our first time meeting… this is the second…"

W-well, as long as they get along from here on out, that’s what matters. Alright then—let’s go!

The three of us—Kitatsuji-san, me, and Takahiro—walked side by side through the school. I don’t love being positioned like a translator between a straight man and a comedian, but it can’t be helped for now.

Most visitors seemed to be heading toward the stalls on the grounds, so the inside of the school was relatively less crowded. First, we watched an experiment in the science room titled, “Which condiment conducts electricity best?” Then we flipped through the program, deciding where to go next.

There are seriously way too many attractions, exhibits, and stalls… There weren’t this many in the game. The program itself is as thick as a small textbook. Kitatsuji-san’s affection rating increases during the play held in the gymnasium, so I want Takahiro to suggest that…

As I kept glancing at the page for the play, Takahiro seemed to notice and started thinking.

…Oh? Go on?

"…Doesn’t this original romance play, ‘Snow White VS the Seven Dwarfs,’ sound interesting?"

"Oh, that sounds nice."

"That’s it, Takahiro-kun!! You finally get it…! sniff… you’ve grown…!"

I almost teared up at the protagonist’s unexpected evolution. The old him would never have noticed. He’d have said something dumb like, “There are other pages too, you know?” But now he picked up on it instantly. It’s like he evolved from Magikarp to Gyarados. He’s awakened…

Unfortunately, maybe I praised him too much. The protagonist suddenly got fired up and, in a shocking move, dashed off toward the gym without us.

"L-let’s hurry!"

"Takahiro-kun, wait—ah!"

Trying to chase after him down the stairs, I misstepped with a thud—but Kitatsuji-san quickly caught me by the arm. She sighed and glanced at the program.

"There’s still twenty minutes left. No need to rush. Come on, let’s take it slow. Watch your step this time, okay?"

"Th-thank you…"

Seriously, Takahiro… what are you so excited about? The festival? Or being with the heroine? Please let it be the latter. Why are you the first one to run off?

Noticing we weren’t following, he came back and got lightly scolded by Kitatsuji-san. …Uh… did his affection go up? Or did it drop three times as much as it rose? Is he going to be okay?

Watching the overly blood-splattered play on stage, I mentally reviewed the plan for the rest of the day. Morning of Day 1: with Kitatsuji-san. Afternoon: with Takamiyagi-senpai. No mandatory events here—just enjoy the stalls and exhibits.

Same for Day 2. Aside from the folk dance at the end in the schoolyard, it doesn’t really matter where I go…

…Though honestly, there are so many events I can’t keep track anymore. And there are all sorts of unrelated incidents—people getting rushed to the hospital, ghost rumors, even talk of stolen exhibits. Who steals something like that? Since when did this place turn into a slum?

As I was inwardly lamenting the decline of discipline at our school, it seemed the play had ended before I realized it. The scattered applause—clap clap—rising from various seats made that clear. As the surrounding audience began to stand, we followed suit and left the gymnasium.

Somewhat surprisingly, Kitatsuji-san seemed to have really enjoyed that blood-soaked play. Even after we exited, she kept smiling cheerfully.

…That’s a little scary in its own way. Up until now, Yuno-chan held first place in my personal “Heroine Most Likely to Stab You If You Cheat” rankings, but… I might need to reconsider.

Well, then again, Kitatsuji-san doesn’t really think too deeply about things. You could call her muscle-brained. There’s even an event where you study together after she mentions scoring a single digit on a test… but thinking about it, single digits are kind of insane, right? At worst, it’s a 1, and even at best it’s just a 9… Or wait, does 0 count? But you wouldn’t call 0 a “single digit,” would you? Well, honestly, 0 or 9—it’s all the same at that point…

"So, where should we go next?"

"Let’s see… oh right, a junior of mine told me to come check out their exhibit. If you don’t mind, could we stop by?"

And so, we arrived at a classroom on the third floor of the north building. An exhibit that even the muscle-brained Kitatsuji-san wanted to see—what could it be? Something like “Is protein a meal or a side dish?” Personally, I think protein counts as a snack.

I read the sign posted outside.

“‘Our Town: Then and Now’…?”

"Huh… that sounds kind of serious… um… are you sure this person is really your junior, Kitatsuji-san…?"

"What’s that supposed to mean!?"

"Sorry, that just slipped out. Anyway, let’s go in."

Inside the classroom, all the desks and chairs had been cleared away. In the center sat a massive diorama made of clay, almost entirely composed of rice paddies and farmland. A sign read: “Our Town 100 Years Ago.”

"So this is what it looked like back then."

"Yeah, my grandpa said he used to grow rice too."

Kitatsuji-san and Takahiro leaned in, studying the diorama with interest. As for me, I do feel some attachment to this town in a “pilgrimage site” sense, but I’m not really into its history. I quickly lost interest and wandered over to another exhibit on the opposite side of the classroom.

In this section, several large sheets of paper were posted, filled with written articles. At a glance, they seemed to contain little-known tidbits about the town.

…Hmm…

Apparently, about 300 years ago, this area used to be the sea. That’s why seashells can still be found all over the place. Well… that’s mildly interesting, I guess.

As I casually moved to the next article, my eyes landed on the title:

“‘The Stone of the Sea God That Grants Wishes’…?”

Something about it made me stop. The phrasing felt oddly familiar. I stared at the article again.

“…Long ago, when this place was still by the sea… people lived by catching fish and shellfish. However, every few years, there would come a mysterious period when nothing could be caught. The people believed this to be the work of an angered god, and so they would choose a young woman from among them and offer her as a sacrifice to appease that anger. Then, astonishingly, the abundant catch would return almost immediately—”

“…Eventually, in more modern times, instead of sacrifices, shrine maidens began offering prayers to the god for a good harvest. At that time, a certain object was always used to communicate with the god: a black stone (Fig. 1). This stone was used as a sacred tool to commune with the god, and by extension, to have one’s wishes granted. Over time, this belief transformed into the idea that ‘black stones grant wishes,’ which still persists in this region today…”

…That’s not quite how I remember it.

There was a legend here about wishes coming true—but it was supposed to be more like a miracle without a clear cause.

But then I remembered.

…In the game, there are two conditions for a miracle to occur.

One: the protagonist and heroine watch a shooting star together and make a wish.

Two: they obtain some kind of “vessel”—something capable of granting wishes.

And sure enough, in their individual routes, the heroines do find “something.” It’s never explicitly stated what that is, but…

Could it have been this stone?

I shifted my gaze to the illustration beneath the article. It depicted the so-called black stone based on the legend.

“…Huh? Isn’t this…?”

It looked like a sharp, black crystal—like something you’d see in a history textbook. The kind used for arrowheads… yeah, like obsidian.

But I hadn’t seen it in a textbook.

I’d seen a stone just like it… right before I came to this world. It had been in my bag. And the next day, I was here.

A cold sensation crept up my back, like icy air slipping through the gaps in my clothes. I shuddered.

…Is this just a coincidence…?

—or…

If it’s not… then does that mean someone intended this?

At that moment, a cold hand suddenly landed on my shoulder—firmly, as if to say got you. A chill shot down my spine, and I jumped.

"—Eek!"

"Oh, sorry, did I scare you? I was calling you earlier, but you didn’t respond. You look pale."

"I’m fine. So go back over there. And seriously, stop putting your hand on my shoulder out of nowhere."

Suppressing the urge to smack him with a backfist, I forced a smile and shooed Takahiro away. Even so, he lingered nearby, pacing awkwardly in a wide circle around me.

Good grief—are you some kind of earthbound spirit haunting this classroom? I don’t have time to deal with you right now.

I turned back to the article. Unfortunately, that was where it ended.

…Come on, isn’t there anything else? Even a small clue…? No?

Looking around, I noticed a large glass display case beside the article, filled with fossilized seashells and other items. I walked over and peered inside.

And then—

I froze.

Among the displayed objects was a black stone identical to the one that had been in my bag.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

No way—!? It’s just… sitting here!? That’s it—that’s the one!

But judging by the label—“Black Stones?”—and the way it was lumped together with other dark-colored rocks and crystal-like chunks, it didn’t seem like the people who set up the exhibit fully understood it either.

Understood what?

That this might actually be the real thing.

I glanced around discreetly to make sure no one was watching. Then I focused on the stone again.

It seemed to glimmer—as if it had something to say.

At that moment, a firm hand suddenly plopped onto my head.

"GYAH!"

"Oh, sorry, Shione. You looked spaced out."

I swatted his hand away and smiled at Takahiro, then pointed at the floor. He didn’t seem to understand, so I kindly explained.

"You. Sit right there."

"Huh? That’s just the floor—wait, what!? …O-okay, I’ll sit…"

With a stiff expression, he obediently sat down in seiza. I slowly crossed my arms in front of him.

I’ll forgive it once.

But this guy has now made the same mistake twice—even while I was clearly in the middle of something serious. First, though, I should confirm something fundamental: does he even understand Japanese?

"Why are you putting your hand on my head? I literally just told you not to. Are you hard of hearing, Takahiro-kun? Or is it ‘I can’t speak Japanese’? Which is it?"

"No, I thought the shoulder was the problem—"

"The head is worse, obviously! How long have we been childhood friends!? Only a boyfriend is allowed to pat my head! It’s clearly written in the Bible!"

…That came out far more heated than I intended, and I ended up saying something that didn’t even make sense to me.

But for some reason, Takahiro’s face suddenly lit up.

…Bad feeling.

Not because he’s a devout Christian who reveres the Bible or anything.

"Ah, right! Then—!"

"W-wait, what did you just agree with!? Don’t ‘then’ me! Don’t say another word!"