Chapter 6: The Blind Monomaniac’s Infatuation ③ 

‘Uwaaaaaaah!’

“Kyaaaaaaah!”

The same ear-splitting scream that I had let out over ten hours ago now erupted from Momiji’s gut.

Thankfully, she fell back onto the sofa, so there was no blow to the back of her head.

It was dusk.

After sitting dazed for about a minute, leaning against the sofa, Momiji finally spoke.

“What kind of thing did you just show me!?”

After the scream came the angry shout.

My best friend, sitting across from me, was trembling with rage, her face now bright red, a stark contrast to her pale complexion from yesterday.

I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the prank’s success, but I was satisfied that she now shared my feelings.

“I was shown this in the middle of the night, in a dark room, all alone. You should at least understand a little of how I felt back then.”

“You’re the one who fell for it! Why do I have to be dragged into this!?”

“Because you’re involved in this, Momiji.”

“…Huh?”

“That’s something Kaede-chan left behind.”

Momiji’s face went blank, not because she didn’t believe me, but because she couldn’t comprehend what I was saying.

The image of that pale face wouldn’t leave my mind, and I only managed to fall asleep near dawn. By the time I woke up, it was already past noon. I ended up skipping university right after the summer break started.

Momiji, who attends a national university, is on summer break until the end of the month. When I contacted her, she said she was in her room, so I quickly got ready and went to see her.

I told her I had cracked the password and showed her the bookmarks: ‘To Nee-san’ and ‘I’ll be waiting here.’ Just as hope began to return to Momiji’s eyes, she was met with this cruel prank.

Next, I showed her the browsing history: ‘To My Sister’s Friend,’ followed by the mocking applause.

Momiji sat there in stunned silence, making a sound like her throat had been crushed. She shook her head slowly, unable to accept the reality.

“Kaede… she wouldn’t do something like this.”

“Then are you saying someone else who cracked the password set up this prank?”

“Ah, no…”

“If someone played such a cruel joke on my best friend who’s worried sick about her sister, I’d say that’s pretty awful. Maybe you should cut ties with that person right now.”

“…I’m sorry.”

Momiji lowered her eyes like a scolded child.

I wasn’t angry about being treated like some tasteless prankster. I understood that she didn’t want to accept the reality that shattered her newfound hope. Our friendship isn’t so shallow that I can’t empathize with her feelings.

I had to be harsh because it was necessary to move forward. Momiji needed to accept reality first.

“Do you still not understand the meaning of ‘kurenaiyou no hi’?”

I asked gently as she hesitantly looked up.

“It’s your birthday.”

I watched her head shake from side to side before delivering the answer plainly.

Momiji’s mouth and eyes opened in two stages—first in shock that it was her birthday, then in realization of what ‘kurenaiyou’ meant.

“You never thought it could be your birthday, did you?”

“No… I didn’t. So Kaede used… my birthday…”

Momiji’s lips softened slightly.

Even though she loves Kaede-chan dearly, she lacks confidence in how Kaede-chan feels about her. Momiji had been nagging Kaede-chan about various things while she was a shut-in. Even if it was out of kindness, it might have just been annoying to Kaede-chan.

Momiji isn’t the type to angrily think, ‘After all I’ve done for you, how can you not understand!?’

She had once quietly confessed that if Kaede-chan could stand on her own and find happiness, it would be worth it, even if it meant being hated in the end.

That’s why this revelation was so significant. To have her birthday set as the password on something as private as a laptop must have been incredibly touching. It meant she wasn’t hated. Her feelings weren’t one-sided after all.

But… what came next would be cruel for Momiji.

“I think Kaede-chan left all of this behind, expecting it to turn out this way.”

“Expecting it to turn out this way?”

“Yes. She didn’t expect you to crack the password. She expected your friend to do it. She left those bookmarks and browsing history for someone else to find.”

Kaede-chan knew her running away wouldn’t be taken seriously. She might have been confident it wouldn’t escalate to the police.

She set up a puzzle that Momiji couldn’t solve but someone close to her could. She left a trail of breadcrumbs, leading to a prank designed to shock whoever followed it. And at the end, she mocked them.

She made it seem like the only clue she left behind was this. The only person she could trust to figure it out and deliver it was someone close to Momiji. Given the family dynamics, it had to be a friend. She left it for ‘My Sister’s Friend’ because she was confident in that person’s ability to solve it.

“Why would Kaede… do something like this?”

Momiji’s face showed genuine confusion, not denial. She truly didn’t understand.

Why did Kaede-chan do this?

What was the point of leaving something like this behind?

It was like the password. A wedge of fixed ideas driven deep into Momiji’s heart. She might never reach the answer on her own.

The reason Kaede-chan left this behind.

“There’s no deep meaning.”

I looked straight into Momiji’s eyes and said,

“It’s just a tasteless prank. That’s all.”

I was telling her that her sister had a mean streak.

Even though I skipped university, I hadn’t been lazing around all day. I contacted a tech-savvy friend who loves games and asked for advice under the guise of a senior at university dealing with this situation.

When I mentioned that Kaede-chan used dual monitors for gaming, they asked me to check the laptop’s specs. It turned out the laptop wasn’t capable of running games smoothly on dual monitors.

Kaede-chan had dug up an old, unused laptop, set up the prank, and left it in an obvious place.

The conclusion was clear: she was just being a troll.

“Kaede… that girl… she wouldn’t…”

Momiji shook her head like a child in the middle of a tantrum.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t believe it—she didn’t want to. Even after being confronted with this reality, she clung to the hope that it was just a bad dream.

That’s why I had to force her to face the truth.

“Hey, Momiji. When was the last time your image of Kaede-chan was updated?”

“Huh…?”

“Has it been stuck since she became a shut-in in elementary school?”

I had to wake her up from this impossible fantasy.

“Sure, Kaede-chan ran away from society and turned her back on her family. She might have shut herself in that room to escape the outside world.”

People grow and change through external stimuli. If you stay curled up in a prison-like room, you might remain unchanged, for better or worse.

But Kaede-chan was different.

“However, that room had a window to the outside world. A world more complex, chaotic, and stimulating than real society.”

I lowered my gaze and said,

“The internet.”

I stared at the laptop.

Even while shutting herself in her room, Kaede-chan achieved results. She produced the outcomes society demanded, more than anyone else.

Kaede-chan wasn’t just a “genius.” That word doesn’t even begin to cover it.

She was a true prodigy.

“While everyone else was spending time with their families and building friendships at school, Kaede-chan was only interacting with the world on the other side of the screen. Do you really think a child like that grew up in a ‘healthy’ way, as society defines it?”

But that didn’t mean she grew up straightforward like Momiji.

The internet is a sea of information, both pure and polluted. While her peers were being shaped by the rough waves of society, Kaede-chan was navigating the digital world.

Growing up in society, you’re given common values and practical expectations. If you deviate, you’re scolded or even punished.

That’s how children are raised to adapt to society.

But Kaede-chan, as a shut-in, wasn’t given those values or expectations. She only knew, in theory, what would happen if she strayed from them.

She grew up alone in her room, picking and choosing what she liked from the sea of information. It’s only natural that her thoughts and values became skewed, and she developed a less-than-ideal personality.

“Kaede…”

Momiji’s shoulders slumped, and she looked down sadly.

She must have known that growing up without parental or societal guidance, connected only to the internet, would lead to a problematic upbringing.

But she had believed that Kaede-chan was different. Even if she lacked social skills, Momiji had faith that Kaede-chan had grown up to be a kind and caring person.

Now, waking up from that near-delusional fantasy, Momiji hung her head in the face of reality. She seemed to blame herself, lamenting her own inadequacy. She might even be regretting everything she had done, thinking it was all wrong.

“Here’s what I think.”

I moved next to my best friend and sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

“You were kind but not naive. Kaede-chan was a genius who surpassed even you. You believed that if you could just get her out into the world, she’d overcome anything.”

I glanced at Momiji, who was watching me out of the corner of her eye.

“Your belief in her was just like my love for Senpai.”

“Your love… and my belief in Kaede are the same?”

“They’re both blind. You overestimated Kaede-chan too much.”

I laid out the problem clearly.

“Even though anyone could see it was impossible, you believed Kaede-chan could do it. It’s like believing a baby who can only crawl will suddenly stand up and walk on its own, and then demanding it to do so.”

“I… did something that cruel to Kaede?”

Momiji’s voice trembled. She couldn’t bring herself to say more.

It wasn’t that she wanted to deny doing something cruel. She was just horrified to realize what she had been doing all along.

After confronting Momiji with all this, one thing became clear to me.

Why didn’t Kaede-chan rely on Momiji when their father pressured her?

Momiji had told Kaede-chan to contact her if anything happened. Kaede-chan must have known those weren’t empty words.

The laptop she left behind.

The tasteless prank hidden within it.

The bookmark left for ‘My Sister.’

‘Don’t Look for Waldo.’

To Kaede-chan, Momiji might have been… just that.

Momiji probably reached that conclusion as soon as I did.

“Ugh…”

A sound that was almost a sob escaped her throat.

Momiji, sitting with her knees drawn up, buried her face in her hands.

Everything she had done for her sister had been for nothing. Worse, it had only pushed Kaede-chan further into a corner. Because Momiji hadn’t been someone Kaede-chan could rely on, this had happened. She might have been thinking it was all her fault.

“In the end, you were just a kid too, Momiji.”

I had to tell her that wasn’t the case.

“Up until high school, you were in a place where teachers were treated like gods, and you were taught the rules of society. Even if you couldn’t perfectly follow them, and even if it was hard and painful, that’s how everyone lives.”

Momiji had blindly believed in Kaede-chan and overestimated her, but there was only so much she could have done at the time.

“Expecting you, who was taught to live within the lines and be serious, to guide a child was too much to ask.”

After all, the cards she had were biased.

She had been taught that society’s values were the only absolute truth. That was all she needed to think about.

People can only measure things based on their own values and knowledge. They can’t create something outside that scope. It’s like expecting someone from the Edo period to cook Western food.

“In the end, the responsibility for Kaede-chan’s situation lies with the adults who knew what was important for living in society but thought it was enough to just focus on academics.”

That’s why someone who knew about Western food and how to cook it had to step in.

It’s like the phenomenon where the expectations for students and working adults are reversed.

Even though Momiji had experienced that firsthand, she hadn’t applied those lessons. She had demanded the same things from Kaede-chan that the adults had demanded of her. The negative legacy of the system had been passed down unchanged.

“So, it’s fine to say Kaede-chan turned out that way because of her parents or society. You don’t need to feel responsible, Momiji.”

“Madoka…”

Momiji looked at me with teary eyes. Though her eyes were slightly wet, no tears fell. The storm that had been brewing in her had cleared, leaving only a faint light breaking through the clouds.

A small dimple formed on Momiji’s cheek.

“Being comforted by you like this… it’s usually the other way around.”

“It’s fine to switch things up once in a while, right?”

“Yeah. You sounded like a proper adult who’s absorbed all kinds of values.”

“Hehehe. I’ve been through a lot since starting university, you know.”

“I can see that. It feels like you’ve pulled ahead without me noticing.”

Momiji praised me unreservedly. There was no sarcasm in her voice—only genuine respect in her eyes.

Feeling a little guilty,

“Well, most of it is just stuff I picked up from Tama-san.”

I confessed easily.

◆

“A shut-in sibling is just a man-made disaster. It’s suffocating, isn’t it?”

As usual on a Friday night, we were at the master’s shop.

The topic had turned to a recent incident involving a shut-in sibling who had been involved in a violent crime.

I don’t remember how we got onto the topic, but casual conversations are like that. They’re not structured debates. It was just one of many topics that came up.

When it came to current events, it was a given that we’d hear Tama-san’s thoughts.

Tama-san wasn’t the type to boastfully lecture about society or make pompous critiques. He was someone who could offer measured comments, depending on the audience.

If you pressed him, he’d speak his mind without sugarcoating, using blunt, unfiltered language that would undoubtedly cause an uproar on social media.

He had no problem crossing lines, which could easily make some people uncomfortable. Anyone who believed in the inherent goodness of people would undoubtedly be outraged.

Tama-san was aware of this, so he only shared these thoughts when there were no other customers around.

That’s why, to me, an adult who could choose when and where to share such thoughts was invaluable.

“The parents who allowed their child to become a shut-in brought it on themselves, but the siblings caught up in it are pitiful. Just having that person alive lowers the family’s social standing.”

“Are you talking about appearances?”

“No, it’s more direct than that. It’s a matter of trust that affects their lives.”

“A trust issue that affects their lives…?”

I rubbed the wrinkles between my brows with my index finger, thinking.

Unable to come up with an answer, I gave up and looked at Tama-san for help.

“The easiest example is marriage.”

“Ah…”

I was struck by the answer.

“It’s fine as long as the parents are taking care of them, but once they’re gone, who’s going to look after them? You can’t just pretend they don’t exist. Society’s rules and morals will demand that you take care of them. No one’s going to be happy about being stuck with a freeloader who eats up resources.”

It’s a common story—engagements being called off because one of the siblings is a shut-in.

“Everyone has their own reasons for becoming a shut-in, but the people who are just being inconvenienced don’t care. If the shut-in starts yelling about how they didn’t choose this, you’d want to tell them to shut up and drop dead, right?”

Tama-san laughed casually, even as he said something so violent.

He was in his usual form today.

“If a law passed that allowed shut-ins to be ‘disposed of’ under the responsibility of their guardians, 95% of shut-ins would disappear from society.”

“Tama-san, you’re saying something extreme again.”

“These days, the trend is protecting the rights of the vulnerable. If I casually said something like this, I’d be burned at the stake by activists.”

Tama-san grinned, his lips curling up.

“That’s why I only say these things to the right people.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“Besides, Kurumi-chan’s friend wouldn’t be part of that 95%, right?”

Even as he used provocative language, he smoothly brought the conversation back to the main topic.

Momiji had been certain that Kaede-chan was attending school. Even after all this time, I still had my doubts.

That’s why, when the topic of the incident came up, I brought it up as if it were about a friend’s sister.

“It’s not for her own future. It’s for her sister’s future. She wants her to be able to stand on her own. She’s tried to be kind and listen, but it hasn’t worked, right?”

“Yes… she doesn’t even respond properly.”

“I see. Got it, got it.”

His tone was light, as if he had figured out the essence of the problem.

The next moment, Tama-san reached out with both hands and,

“Now, let me hear your feelings?”

He grabbed my cheeks and made direct eye contact, not allowing me to look away.

My heart raced uncontrollably at the sudden move.

Our relationship, which had shown no progress, was suddenly changing.

Without revealing his own feelings first, he wanted to hear mine.

It was a much more masculine way of approaching a girl than a wall slam.

Right now, I was completely, utterly smitten.

The two of us would share a happy kiss and live happily ever after. The end.

“What Kurumi-chan’s friend is doing is this.”

But that fantasy was shattered.

“She’s not empathizing with her heart. She’s just forcing her to face her. If this could lead to a conversation, the shut-in would have already left that life behind.”

“Ah…”

I was about to be disappointed by the shattered fantasy, but I could agree with the point being made.

Kaede-chan was a shut-in who had turned her back on her family. Trying to do the same thing with a child who couldn’t even speak properly was foolish.

Even if Momiji thought she was being kind and empathetic, it was only making things worse. She hadn’t realized it, and neither had I, even though I thought I was being objective.

Tama-san had pinpointed the problem after hearing only a little about their relationship. Seeing how different he was from other adults made me fall for him all over again.

I wanted to feel the warmth of his hands on my cheeks forever.

“Tama.”

Then the master spoke up.

“That’s sexual harassment.”

With that pointed out, Tama-san quickly let go. His hands swept across the table, knocking over a glass.

Clink, crash.

◆

Momiji and Kaede-chan.

Tama-san had nailed the nature of their relationship and the problem.

It seemed less like he had figured it out and more like he had heard a similar story from a friend of a friend of a friend’s relative.

A girl who had been a shut-in since elementary school. When she was sent to live with relatives, she started speaking on her own and eventually became able to talk naturally. She still didn’t go to school, but she took over all the household chores and grew so much that they couldn’t imagine life without her.

Why had she been able to grow so much? It was a fascinating story.

If Kaede-chan was attending school, this might not be necessary. But I couldn’t help but ask, thinking it might be useful for Momiji someday.

And that day had come.

“The important thing is how Momiji interacts with Kaede-chan when she comes back.”

Like Tama-san had done to me, I grabbed Momiji’s cheeks with both hands and forced her to face me.

“Now, let me hear your feelings?”

“Huh?”

Momiji was flustered as I looked at her seriously.

“What you’ve been doing until now is just this. If someone did this to you, wouldn’t you find it hard to say what you want?”

“Ah…”

Like I had once realized, Momiji understood the meaning of what she had been doing.

As I let go of her, I continued.

“Kaede-chan has become uncomfortable with speaking itself since she became a shut-in. You know why she stopped going to school, right?”

After losing her mother and shutting herself away, she tried to overcome it. But when she returned to the classroom after months, she stuttered and was mocked by the boys in class.

It’s no wonder she developed a trauma around speaking. On top of that, she barely talked to her family, so her vocal cords had atrophied. Even if she tried to speak, she couldn’t do it properly.

Both physically and mentally, she had lost the ability to hold a conversation.

“Because she can’t speak well, she can’t get her point across. Knowing that, Kaede-chan gave up on trying to talk from the start.”

“Then should we have tried something like a diary exchange?”

Momiji spoke in a serious tone. She wasn’t joking—she genuinely thought it might have been a good idea.

I could feel her strong determination not to repeat the same mistakes.

“The idea of using writing is good, but it’s a bit old-fashioned. Kaede-chan is good with computers, right? Then why not have her send her thoughts through her phone?”

“Through her phone?”

“While you talk nearby, Kaede-chan can type on her keyboard. Tap tap tap tap tap. The notifications might not stop as she keeps sending her thoughts one after another.”

“That’s a surreal image. I wonder what face she’d make while typing.”

“If she doesn’t want to show her face, start from behind a door. From there, try to get her to at least say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ out loud.”

“That sounds like… a long-term battle.”

“What’s needed isn’t just kindness for the future. It’s also the sweetness of holding her hand and helping her climb the stairs, one step at a time.”

Like a pompous teacher giving the answer, I wagged my index finger repeatedly.

“Even if it doesn’t work out in a year, it might help in two years. Someone who hasn’t changed since elementary school might transform in just a month or two.”

The relative of Tama-san’s acquaintance’s acquaintance’s acquaintance had apparently grown a lot through this method. If Kaede-chan, a prodigy, was given the right environment, she could grow immensely.

“Even if you want Kaede-chan to attend university, does it have to be right away? Before that, why not give her time to develop her social skills?”

Unless she’s aiming to become a police officer, politician, or bureaucrat, a delay of a year or two isn’t unusual in university.

University isn’t the end goal of life. It’s just a checkpoint. It’s a period to broaden your knowledge and connections and prepare for the next stage of life. More than academic ability, the skills you develop during this time are crucial.

The abilities you’ll need for the rest of your life. Before rushing forward just because her academic skills are sufficient, it’s more important to take the time to nurture those abilities. That’s what will help her in the next ten, twenty years.

That said, a year or two isn’t insignificant. It’s not just the person in question who loses time—it’s also the caregiver.

If it were just a man-made disaster that someone got caught up in, you’d want to leave it alone. If rules and morals allowed, you’d want to cut the problem off at the source.

But,

“But Momiji, you weren’t doing this for your own future, were you? You wanted to help Kaede-chan for her sake, right?”

“Yes… That kind of life wouldn’t be allowed by my father forever. I had to do something to help Kaede stand on her own.”

Momiji shook her head, disagreeing.

She knew better than anyone that her father’s drastic measures to pressure Kaede-chan could happen again at any time. That’s why she had to bring Kaede-chan back into society (school).

“I thought I was being helpful and kind, but… I was too self-centered.”

Momiji laughed self-deprecatingly at her own mistakes.

She had misunderstood how to communicate with Kaede-chan, which was why it hadn’t worked. She hadn’t even realized what she was doing wrong.

“First, I need to learn how to have a proper conversation with Kaede. That’s my immediate goal.”

Momiji told herself this.

I thought to myself: what Momiji lacked most was flexibility. Not toward others, but toward her own way of life.

People can only measure things based on their own values and knowledge. They can’t create something that deviates too far from that scope.

There are people who have suffered because they couldn’t fit into society’s structure or meet its expectations. Society only teaches children that this is how everyone lives, that this is just the way things are.

That’s why Momiji, who had never strayed from society’s rails, didn’t have the tools to pull Kaede-chan out of her room.

Now that Momiji knows what she did wrong, she won’t have to worry about that anymore. After all, she’s a perfect genius in every way except where others can’t see. She won’t repeat the same mistakes. This time, she’ll be able to guide Kaede-chan to adapt to society.

“Madoka.”

But the person she wants to guide is still missing.

Even though she understands the problem now, it’s still unresolved.

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re here.”

Still, Momiji smiled at me as if she had overcome a major hurdle.

Next chapter, Monday, March 3rd!