For the third time, after school and finishing my cleaning duties, I visited the music room just past four o'clock.

Just like yesterday, the music room was empty. However, both yesterday and the day before, she only appeared a little while after I entered the room. It might be the same pattern this time. Just like the first day, I sat at the desk in the center of the front row and decided to wait a bit for her to appear.

I stared at the spinning second hand.

I don't remember exactly how long it took her to appear before, but I don't recall waiting for 30 minutes, so if she is coming, she should show up in about 10 minutes. Still, waiting for someone who might not even show up makes even a few minutes feel like it could break your spirit.

Is she really coming...? Could she be mad about what happened yesterday...?

Thoughts like that started swirling anxiously in my head. Or rather, I was already starting to believe them.

—If I apologize, will she forgive me?

Even if I asked that in my heart, there was no voice to answer. More than anything, an apology offered only after being told "I'll forgive you if you apologize" didn't feel like a real apology at all. In that case, there was only one answer.

I gently closed my eyes, pictured her figure from yesterday in my mind, and called out to her.

"...I-I'm sorry for suddenly running away yesterday."

The reality of speaking words of apology all alone in the music room was so embarrassing that my voice trembled.

Maybe if I were an elementary schooler it'd be one thing, but I'm a high school girl who already knows better. Even so, the reason I silenced my rationality and kept my mouth moving was purely out of guilt toward her.

"I... I'm really bad with ghosts, and I just get so scared. But yesterday, after I went home, I looked back on what I did and thought that I had done something really awful. You just returned my smartphone to me, and in response, all I could do was run away. That was a terrible thing to do... but, then I realized, maybe you aren't such a scary and bad ghost after all. And if that's the case, I realized I needed to properly apologize."

Because I hadn't decided what or how to apologize, I continued with shallow words that sounded like I was just speaking my thoughts aloud. But, naturally, fear still lingered in my heart, and that fear interfered with my thoughts. I was terrified of what I would do if she was angry and did something bad to me.

That was when it happened.

"That sounded just like a grade-schooler reading an essay out loud."

"Eek!"

Suddenly spoken to from such a close distance I could almost feel her breath, I reflexively leaned back. Sitting on the desk, I lost my balance and tumbled backward, getting tangled up in the desk behind me. A pain, like a rehash of the first day, shot through my back. And, triggered by the pain, my anger towards Madoka and Emiri flared up again. It's all their fault. However, my brain prioritized assessing the situation over writhing in pain.

With eyes tearing up, I looked up at her. She was looking down at me, too.

She stared at me in dumbfounded silence for a while, before letting out a soft cluster of breathy chuckles. "Fufufu."

"It was the same the day before yesterday, but just how terrified of ghosts are you? I wonder how you've managed to survive this long."

She said such things while looking down at me in amusement.

She had that slightly irritating expression a high school girl makes when teasing a friend.

"B-Because I've never met a ghost before!"

That's why I ended up making such a pathetic excuse.

That seemed to hit the spot for her, and the girl laughed a bright, chiming laugh, like rolling bells.

"Fair enough. Well, it's a good opportunity, so why don't you try talking with a ghost? If you get used to ghosts through me, you might be able to handle it calmly if you ever encounter one later in life."

"Ah, no, I just came to apologize to you..."

"Then keep me company to kill some time while you're at it. You seem like a fun conversation partner."

I couldn't sense any malice, and her continued friendly-sounding words conversely left me bewildered.

"A-Are you... not mad about yesterday?"

"Who knows. I'd say that depends entirely on your behavior from here on out, doesn't it?"

If you're sorry, show your sincerity. Whether she bears hostility or malice depends on me—is that it?

"U-Understood. I just need to keep you company and chat, right?"

"Glad to see you're so understanding."

The girl sat down on the chair right in front of me and crossed her legs with a naturalness that suggested it was a habit.

For some reason, my gaze was stolen by her exposed, slender calves, and my heart skipped a beat for a second.

...Ghosts really do have legs, huh.

I noticed it yesterday, but the fact that she was wearing cute mules felt terribly out of place.

At that moment, I remembered that I was still sitting collapsed on the floor. But my back, thighs, and everywhere else I had hit hurt so much that I didn't feel like getting up. I gave up on sitting in a chair and decided to start the conversation with her while sitting on the floor. Still—

—This has turned into a weird situation.

I never would have thought I'd end up chatting with a ghost as a side-effect of apologizing.

But even I had a certain level of interest in talking with this person—no, this ghost.

So her invitation to chat was, to be honest, a godsend. Frankly, I also had the somewhat sleazy thought that it might make for a good story later. I didn't think it was a safe boat to board by any means, but even if it was a sinking ship of mud, the experience of having spoken with a ghost was bound to be invaluable.

"Well then... um, what should I call you?"

I was hesitant to keep calling her "the girl" in my head forever.

But calling her "Miss Ghost" would be weird.

That would be like me being called "Miss Human" or "Miss High School Girl."

"My name is Sunohara Chifuyu, so you can call me whatever you like. By the way, what's your name?"

"I'm Nago Miyuki. Well then, um... Sunohara-san, it is."

There, we fell into silence for a moment.

After all, I had no idea what kind of topics to bring up with a ghost. If it were a classmate, I could just start with something like, "Exams are next week, are you studying?" After agonizing over it for a while, perhaps due to impatience and tension, I started to just boldly accept the situation, figuring there was no point in groaning over it. If I stayed silent like this, my fear of the reality of "facing a ghost" seemed likely to flare up again. Figuring I had no choice but to go down the list of things I was curious about, I decided to ask something random.

"Sunohara-san, do you... um, live? ...in this music room?"

Every bit of normal Japanese I used felt entirely out of place, making my pronunciation mumble-y.

But Sunohara-san, not minding such minor details, answered my question.

"I suppose you could say that. This place is like my home, after all."

Huh. Home. So it's her home. It's a pretty uncomfortable-looking home.

I kept quiet, though, because I figured saying that out loud would make her mad.

"So, are you like an earth-bound spirit...? Can you leave the music room?"

"If I wanted to. But it uses up energy and stamina, so I'd rather just stay cooped up here if possible."

"I see. So ghosts have energy and stamina too."

The hallways are cold this time of year, so it seemed like it would use a lot of stamina. I mean, Sunohara-san's outfit looked awfully chilly, and she was so skinny. Though I don't know if ghosts even feel the cold to begin with.

She seemed like she would be better at handling the cold than the heat, though.

"Then, can other people besides me see you, Sunohara-san...?"

I'm not exactly spiritually sensitive. In other words, does that mean Sunohara-san's spiritual power is so strong that anyone can see her? But, for that to be the case, I'd never heard any ghost rumors at this school. Well, Emiri did politely tell me a ghost story, which means it might be a famous tale among a certain subset of people. Or could it be that there's some sort of connection between Sunohara-san and me?

I found myself thinking of something out of a cheap story.

"Well, I wonder? I've never really paid attention to whether other people can see me. I mean, I have no intention of attacking humans. I don't even have any interest in them in the first place."

I see. I suppose Sunohara-san's regrets really are tied to the piano, not to humans.

Her eyes took on a sharp glint as she shot me a sidelong glance.

Cut open by that sharpness, my thoughts froze.

"In that sense, you're the first human who's managed to pique my interest. Fufufu. You might want to keep your guard up, at least a little. I don't know what might become of me either. Maybe I'm a worse ghost than I think—the kind that attacks people."

Stifling a yelp that almost slipped out of my mouth, I tried to search for the true meaning behind her words.

Sunohara-san, too, remained silent, observing my reactions and facial expressions.

"Fufu. Don't be so scared. I was just joking."

The taut thread of tension snapped as Sunohara-san broke into a wide smile. That smile was so human-like that my caution towards her melted away all at once. Oh, I was just being teased.

It was strange, because it really started to feel like I was talking with another girl my age.

If it was this spirit, would it be okay to ask a slightly more intrusive question?

"Um... is it alright if I ask a slightly deeper question?"

"I don't see why not. Although, whether I answer it or not is another story."

That makes sense. It seemed Sunohara-san was a relatively reasonable ghost, so there didn't seem to be any worry that she would suddenly fly into a rage just from being asked a question and bite my head off.

So, I steeled my resolve and crossed that line.

"Sunohara-san, why haven't you passed on? Why do you remain here in the music room...?"

"..........................."

Sunohara-san's eyes narrowed.

It was an expression I couldn't decipher as a kid like me—like a faint smile, or as if she were looking up at the past. But looking at her blasé, ennui-filled face, it hit me hard that this person really was a ghost. Because that expression was most appropriately described as "looking back on her time alive."

She re-crossed her legs as if to distract herself before speaking.

"I'm answering a question with a question, but... what kind of ghost do you think I am?"

"Aren't you... a ghost who committed suicide in the music room out of despair over no longer being able to play the piano?"

I relayed the summary of the ghost story I heard from Emiri to Sunohara-san.

Hearing that, she furrowed her brow in slight displeasure.

"Hmm. I see. So that's the ghost story being passed around the music room these days."

"Does that mean... the current ghost story has nothing to do with you, Sunohara-san?"

"Who knows. I wonder about that."

Sunohara-san murmured, a distant look in her eyes.

"It might not be completely unrelated. I have no idea who started that rumor, or where it came from. But... I thought I had given up on music."

When she whispered the word 'music', I felt her voice tremble just a bit.

That tremor was quickly swallowed up by the wave of other words and vanished, however.

"I see. Maybe the reason I exist in the music room... is because I'm still trapped by music."

"...You don't even know yourself, Sunohara-san?"

Her words sounded like it was someone else's problem; it didn't feel like she was talking about herself.

Right now, she was the ghost of the music room talking about the "ghost story of the music room," and it made my head spin.

"I was pretending not to notice myself, but... now that you mention it, maybe it's exactly as you say. Surely, I too must have... something called regrets. Towards this room, towards music, towards the piano. Countless tiny regrets have piled up, leaving me immobilized in this place."

Sunohara-san directed a distant gaze toward the window, like a bird envying the outside of its cage.

I don't know how long she has been trapped in this music room, but I think it has by no means been a short period. It must have been an amount of time that a little girl like me couldn't possibly endure.

"Ah," Sunohara-san let out a small voice.

Then, she stood up and brought her face so close to mine that our noses almost touched.

I reflexively leaned my upper body backward to distance my face. Since I was already sitting on my butt, I easily lost my balance and ended up lying flat on my back. It was a stroke of luck that I didn't hit my head on the desk. The fluorescent lights lined up on the ceiling continued to pour an almost deafeningly bright white light onto my eyes, when suddenly a shadow swept over me. Like a predator cornering its prey, Sunohara-san was straddling me. She was supposed to be sitting on my stomach, but other than a faint sense of weight, I couldn't feel a thing.

Because she's a ghost, perhaps.

No, more importantly than that—

...What is this situation?

Did poking my nose where it didn't belong cause the snake—no, the evil spirit inside her to rear its head?

What should I do? I might be eaten, killed, and die right here. All the things I've left undone in my life swirled around in my head. If I had known I was going to die today, I wouldn't have lived such a half-assed life. I would have faced life a bit more seriously and lived desperately.

Things I wanted to do.

Things I was supposed to do.

A few scenes floated into my mind—the novels lined up on my room's bookshelf, the software on my computer, me facing the display with a serious look in a dimly lit room... such a life-flashing-before-my-eyes montage crossed my mind.

But, I wonder.

Even if I knew I was going to die today, maybe I still would have been playing Jenga.

There's that question, "What would you do if today was the last day on Earth?" but I feel like most people, even if they knew it was the last day, would probably just sulk in bed.

Even giving it a hundred passes, maybe they'd just eat a slightly nicer dinner.

Out of a hundred people, maybe a few at best would actually do what they truly wanted to do.

Is the reason I think such gloomy things because I'm a negatively inclined person?

Even so... it isn't really that scary.

Even though death was looming right before my eyes, the terror I felt before was faint; I just vaguely thought, Am I going to die? Maybe prey animals come full circle and reach a state of calm.

Thinking that there's no use panicking now.

"...Why are you making a face like a maiden right before she's about to be kissed?"

"Wh-What is that supposed to mean?! I just thought I was going to die like this..."

To be honest, having my 'bracing for death' expression lumped together with an 'expecting a kiss' expression was offensive. But maybe, just maybe, those two states are inseparable... my thoughts drifted off into completely irrelevant directions.

"Oh, what's that? You were thinking about something like that? Relax. Even if I were going to eat you, it wouldn't be right now."

"...Does that mean you'll eat me eventually?"

"Like I said earlier, the one who decides that isn't me, but rather your future actions, wouldn't you say?"

Saying that, Sunohara-san seemed to be enjoying every single one of my reactions.

"Um... then why am I being straddled...?"

"Right. You were saying such absurd things that I almost forgot."

Taking my hands, Sunohara-san murmured.

Her hands were so small and soft that even using both, she couldn't fully enclose mine. Yet, the way she used her small hands to the fullest to try and wrap around my hands looked somewhat like she was offering a prayer—I didn't sense any murderous intent or malice, but the gesture felt terribly ritualistic.

"I thought that I'd like you to help me pass on. I'd like to be at peace soon, too."

Her face moved even closer.

Since I was already lying flat on the floor, I couldn't move any further away.

At a point-blank range where our breaths mingled, she peered into my eyes and smiled.

"It seems I've taken a liking to you. I want you to be the one to help me pass on."

Her pupils reflected my own eyes.

I had the illusion that I was trapped inside her eyes, and my heart was seized.

"Wh-What should I do...? Do you need my... fingers, after all?"

The option to refuse didn't even cross my mind.

Was it because I was straddled, completely immobilized, in a situation where I could only nod? No, I'm sure that's not it. It was because I, too, had grown somewhat fond of this ghost named Sunohara Chifuyu. To the point where I found myself thinking, giving up a finger or two wouldn't be so bad, would it?

Rather than saying I was fond of her, it might be more accurate to say I was captivated.

However, contrary to my inner thoughts, Sunohara-san had an unimpressed expression.

"...You've been going on about fingers since yesterday, but what on earth is that about?"

"Because I heard you lost your fingers in an accident, and committed suicide out of despair over it..."

"What's that? The continuation of that ghost story from earlier? That's quite a tasteless lie... Besides, didn't we just settle on the conclusion that that ghost and I are two different things?"

"B-But... you said it wasn't completely unrelated, didn't you?"

That's why I thought I had to give her my fingers.

And at the same time, I thought that it wouldn't matter if I did give them to her.

"When I said it wasn't unrelated... I just meant that I felt a sense of kinship with the 'ghost of the music room.' Besides, if I had committed suicide because I lost my fingers, it would make no sense for me to be holding your hands like this, would it? After all, all ten of my fingers are perfectly intact."

As if to show off her complete set of ten fingers, she repeatedly opened and closed her hands.

Just like her physique, her fingers were childlike, with a unique roundness that was quite cute.

"Still, whoever spread that rumor seems to have incredibly poor taste."

Amputated fingers, of all things.

Saying that, Sunohara-san made a rare expression of displeasure. I couldn't understand exactly what part she found unpleasant, but an even more pressing question had just popped into my head.

Having already asked intrusive questions earlier, this query spilled out unintentionally.

"Then, why did you commit suicide, Sunohara-san—"

Before my question could fully drop to the floor, Sunohara-san scooped it up.

"That's exactly it. I want you to figure that out, clear my regrets, and free me from this music room. I'm telling you that I want you, with your own hands, your own fingertips, to unravel the mystery of me."

Sunohara-san whispered this while grasping my right hand with both of hers.

Her voice had such an earnest ring to it that all I could do was nod.

And like that, the strange collaboration between her and me began.