December 24th, 4 PM. Less than an hour remained before the activation of Ayanokouji’s creation, SilentNight. It was unclear how many devices had been infected, but it couldn’t be less than a few thousand as a low estimate. Because the malware he’d created was quite distinct from the mobile malware that had been made prior.
Ayanokouji, the author, was not very aware of it himself, but SilentNight was extremely revolutionary mobile malware. There did exist prior malware that disabled the communication functions of phones.
SilentMutter and Radiocutter discovered in 2009, for example. But at any rate, of the mobile malware recognized in 2011, the majority were trojans due to technical reasons. SilentNight, meanwhile, was a mobile worm that infected the network and could self-replicate, so its ability to diffuse was incomparable to previous mobile malware. And at least currently, there were no anti-virus programs that detected this malware.
A powerful virus that struck in 1999, Melissa, was said to have caused over 80 million US dollars in damages. Furthermore, a virus that surfaced the next year, Loveletter, was said to cost over a few billion dollars. Even this malware created by individuals could deal an unheard-of blow to the world if it worked its way into the gears. If all went well, even if it didn’t shake the world, SilentNight might get a lot of people’s attention for two or three days.
But Ayanokouji didn’t much feel like watching it happen. Though creating malware had been what he lived for, now, it just felt empty. Ayanokouji himself didn’t know whether that was due to Hiyori or not.
I’ll turn myself in before the date changes, Ayanokouji silently decided. He wasn’t accounting for the fact that turning himself in might result in a lighter sentence than Tsukishiro doing it for him. He simply felt it was just right.
Upon getting outfitted and standing at the door, the intercom sounded. He knew it wasn’t Hiyori. He figured it was probably Tsukishiro, but Ayanokouji’s intuition was also wrong there.
Standing at the door was a deliveryman. The man bluntly handed him a pen and voucher. Ayanokouji signed, and the man handed him a paper bag and quickly left.
He returned to the living room to open the bag. Inside was a wine-red scarf. When he unfurled the folded-up scarf, something fell out. It was stationery with a simple design and an envelope. The contents of the envelope were sticking out slightly after the fall: a stack of bills.
He picked up the stationery and stuffed it in his coat pocket. He didn’t stop to count the bills. He knew how much it was, and the reason he had been sent it.
Hiyori probably took half the payment from Ayanokouji as a condition for becoming friends because she wanted to be on equal footing with him. She absolutely didn’t want him to feel like he was working for money. Now that their relationship had failed, there was no longer a need to maintain that equality.
Ayanokouji unplugged his smartphone from the charger it was always plugged into, stuffed the scarf in his bag, and left the room. He was headed to the police station. He didn’t know why, but he felt that to turn himself in, he should do so by going there directly instead of calling in.
He didn’t wear gloves or a mask. It was a meager punishment for himself.
On the way, Ayanokouji took the stationery out of his pocket and read it.
“I must have startled you suddenly leaving the way I did. I’m really sorry. I really would like to explain myself, but I can’t say anything. Because as many words as I tried to use, it would probably only deepen your confusion. One thing I can say for sure is that you have no responsibility, and the problem lies entirely with me. I was wrong to have a desire that was totally beyond me.”
She had neat writing for her age. Her writing was also different from her usual informal tone. But strangely, nothing felt wrong about it. He felt that the words she wrote in the letter were closer to Hiyori’s inner self than the words she spoke.
Ayanokouji looked to the second sheet of stationery.
“Mr. Ayanokouji, I liked spending time in your room, not doing anything, just spacing out. It was my first time experiencing such peaceful feelings since I was born. I think it was thanks to having someone I liked there. Thank you for the wonderful time.”
Following blank space like a period of silence, Ayanokouji looked at the third sheet.
“It’s not exactly a repayment, but I’ve sent you a scarf I knitted. Yes, this is the "girly hobby” I was hiding. If it doesn’t please you, I won’t mind if you throw it away. To tell the truth, I simply wanted to try giving someone a gift once.“
The fourth sheet.
"I’ve directly asked Tsukishiro to let you free, Mr. Ayanokouji. He’s always incredibly indulgent to me, so I’m sure he’ll do as I said. …I actually planned to only send you this part, but I’ve gone on and on writing excess things. Sorry.”
And this is how she wrapped up her letter.
“This will be my final contact to you, Mr. Ayanokouji. It’s fine to completely wipe your mind of me. Goodbye.”
At about the same time Ayanokouji finished reading the letter, he arrived at the police station. He stood there. The clock inside was just striking 5 PM.
He put away the stationery in his pocket, took out the scarf from his bag, and held it in front of him. It was a neatly-knit Aran-patterned scarf, easily mistakable for a commercial product.
Ayanokouji wore the scarf. He did this, knowing it was handmade. He found it strange himself. He who hated the “hand-cooked,” “handwritten,” “handmade” - anything touched by a hand - should have normally been disgusted by the gift, even if Hiyori had made it for him. There was an inconsistency that couldn’t be explained away with “it’s cold enough that I need the protection.”
Standing outside the station, Ayanokouji buried his face in the scarf, staring at shimmering red lamps.
He wasn’t sure how long he did it for.
All of a sudden, it occurred to him how he was hopelessly in love with Shina Hiyori.
It was his first love, at age 27.
And she was a 17-year-old girl.
But he couldn’t see it as shameful. As inherently irregular people in irregular circumstances, they had an irregular love. There was nothing strange about that.
He turned his back to the police station. He no longer felt like turning himself in.
His actions afterward were rapid.
Ayanokouji turned on his smartphone for the first time in days. He called Hiyori’s number, but the call sound was cut off after one ring.
It was a strange way for a call to cut off. He tried again and again, to the same result. It didn’t have the feeling of her phone being off or her being somewhere without reception.
Was she rejecting calls from his number?
Just then, he hit upon a possibility. Maybe this is the fault of SilentNight. Maybe it far exceeded my expectations and spread massively, eventually infecting even Hiyori’s phone. Considering it now, it wasn’t implausible.
Ayanokouji was at a loss. If he was right, then she’d lost communication just a few minutes ago. Even if he tried to go meet her in person, he didn’t know Hiyori’s address. Would he have to wait out the two days until the worm’s effects stopped? He shook his head; no, that won’t do. He felt like he had to tell Hiyori today, or he’d lose the chance to do so ever again. There was no time to delay it any longer. But where could he look to find her? He frantically searched his head, but had not a single idea.
How ironic, Ayanokouji laughed. The worm I made to cause couples trouble had come around to bite me. So this is what “a curse is always repaid” meant.
He felt something cold on his cheek, and looked up. Had it started to snow? He held up his hand and waited for snow to fall into it. When he did, he suddenly wondered why he wasn’t wearing gloves. From there, his mind jumped from one thing to another. Gloves, training, holding hands, Hiyori’s hand, outside the station, Christmas lights, Christmas Eve.
“So, how does this sound? By Christmas Eve, I’ll be able to walk around town without people’s gazes bothering me. Mr. Ayanokouji, you’ll be able to hold hands with someone without dirtiness bothering you. If we achieve those goals, then on Christmas Eve, we’ll hold hands and walk by the Christmas lights outside the station, then have a modest celebration.”
If she’s anywhere, it has to be there, Ayanokouji concluded.
He raced to the station and lept onto the train just before it left. There were a few empty seats, but he didn’t take them, and stood by the wall catching his breath. He took out his smartphone, and to check the status of the worm’s infection, checked if anyone had mentioned a new worm online in the past hour. From what he could see, there were only five or six people saying their phones had suddenly lost communication. Ayanokouji almost felt relief seeing this, but shortly realized his stupidity.
Those affected by this worm, unless they had another device on hand, wouldn’t be able to go online and say anything. Using the internet to check for people who’d lost internet was like counting casualties with a roll call.
He gave up on checking the state of the infection and put the phone back in his pocket. It would probably still be some time before damages became evident.
After getting off the train and going through the ticket gate, a middle-aged man called to him.
“Sorry for the rude request, but could you lend me your cellphone?”, he said.
“There’s someone I want to contact ASAP, but it seems my smartphone suddenly broke earlier.”
“I can’t make calls or send emails, but I can check my address book. I thought I’d just use a public phone, but as you can see…”
Ayanokouji saw a strange sight where the man pointed.
Outside three phone booths some distance from the ticket gate, there were long snaking lines. At the front was someone looking at a smartphone screen and pressing the buttons on the public phone. They were probably all victims of the worm.
Ayanokouji gulped. This may perhaps be more serious than I anticipated.
Though it was a race against time, Ayanokouji lent the man his phone. Not knowing that this generous young man was in reality the cause of all this commotion, he bowed his head deeply and thanked him.
While the man made his call, Ayanokouji tried to think about means of contacting Hiyori. Then he suddenly realized. There was no need to make contact. If Hiyori still felt like meeting me, she’ll definitely appear outside the station tonight. That was what she promised. On the other hand, if she didn’t want that, then it would be pointless even if I could call her. My primary worry right now is that, regardless of whether Hiyori appears, I’ll fail to find her.
Ayanokouji saw a station employee put a signboard outside the ticket gate, and people started to crowd around it. The man finally finished his call, returned the smartphone to Ayanokouji, thanked him, and left.
Ayanokouji resisted the urge to disinfect the phone and stuck it in his pocket. And he left the building to head to the plaza. If Hiyori did appear, that’s the place she’d choose.
It seemed like there were many lonely young people in the plaza. Surely not all of them were, but no doubt at least some percentage of them were had lost their means of communication due to the worm and couldn’t meet who they were intending to.
People smoking cigarettes with displeasure and looking into the distance, people sitting on benches and looking around constantly, restless people walking around the plaza. The scene reminded him of a time before cellphones were widespread.
Ayanokouji sat on a bench beside the clock, and kept watching the people leaving the station. He sharpened his senses so he wouldn’t miss a single person who went in or out of the station.
But an hour, two hours passed with no sign of Hiyori. Every time he saw a woman with bright, short hair, he looked up hopefully, but they were all the wrong person.
The snow picked up, and the people who filled the plaza gradually lessened in number. Before he knew it, there were enough left to count on one hand. Those who came in and out of the station became sparse, and it was no longer necessary to focus his senses.
And a total of three hours passed.
Maybe it’s pointless to wait any longer, he thought.
That promise has long since lost its effect.
He sighed and looked up at the night sky. He was freezing all over; below his knees especially, he was unbelievably cold. But physical coldness was no big issue. A warmth in his chest that had felt like part of him went out, and a heavy chill filled the space. The faint heat that remained only seemed to reinforce the cold.
Ah, so this is what loneliness feels like, Ayanokouji finally realized at the ripe age of 27. The scales had fallen from his eyes. Until now, he had been faintly aware of the shapes of love and loneliness, but decided they were things irrelevant to him. To think the day would come when he could feel them like this. Maybe the kiss Hiyori gave me that day rewrote some of my data, Ayanokouji thought.
The clock rang out, informing him it was 9 PM. Less than an hour until the Christmas lights turned off.
At that point, there was nothing keeping Ayanokouji there but stubbornness. Surely Hiyori isn’t going to appear at this point, he thought, starting to discard his hopes - and in a way, he was correct.
After the bell finished ringing, Ayanokouji looked all around. Almost everyone in the plaza had vanished; all that was left was himself, and a single girl. She looked like a docile girl in a quiet outfit. She buried her face in a scarf to endure the cold, keeping her head down. Likely from doing that for a long time, her head and shoulders were covered with white snow.
Maybe she was another person who failed to meet the one she loved. That thought filled Ayanokouji with feelings of regret. Now, he could understand her feelings to a painful degree.
I want to apologize to her, Ayanokouji thought. Say I’m the one who caused all this trouble, I was jealous of all the couples and created a worm that made all this happen. Of course, she probably wouldn’t believe him if he said that. She’d just think he was nuts. But his judgement had long since gone numb from the cold and despair.
Ayanokouji got up from the bench and walked toward the girl. All his muscles were stiff, so he walked awkwardly like a marionette.
“Um, excuse me.”
The girl looked up when he spoke to her.
And she smiled.
Just like that, Ayanokouji was unable to speak a word.
He was so shocked, he forgot to breathe for a while. It felt like all the energy had left his body.
“I was waiting to see when you’d notice,” the girl said.
“…That’s unfair,” Ayanokouji said at length. “You look way too different. There’s no way I could tell.”
“But there’s no point in changing if I don’t change that much, right?”
Hiyori slowly stood up and swept the snow off her hair and coat.
Perhaps she had been there for a long time now. Ayanokouji simply overlooked her, and she was in sight the whole time. Not like he had something wrong with his eyes, though. Nine out of ten people would probably make the same mistake.
When Ayanokouji imagined Shina Hiyori, he first pictured her dyed hair. Then her unrefined headphones, her short skirt, her blue earring. The girl in front of him met none of those requirements. Her hair was black, she wasn’t wearing headphones, her skirt was an average length. The earring was still there, but you couldn’t tell that without coming up close.
“I was about to give up and assume you wouldn’t come. Sheesh, Hiyori, you’re mean,” Ayanokouji said in amazement.
“I was right by you. It’s your fault for not noticing, Mr. Ayanokouji.”
“You’re one to talk.” Ayanokouji furrowed his brow. “Did you notice me from the start?”
“Yeah. Because of that scarf.” Hiyori looked at Ayanokouji’s neck. “I knew instantly. Glad to see you actually using it.”
“Right. Today was especially cold, so…”, Ayanokouji said with some embarrassment.
“That aside, does your natural hair color mean you intend to go back to school?”
“Well, there’s that.”
“There’s another reason?”
“Err…” Hiyori’s gaze turned down diagonally, and she spoke while fiddling with her hair damp from the snow. “I figured you liked this kind of diligent feel, so…”
Hiyori laughed like it was a joke, but Ayanokouji didn’t laugh.
The chilled core of his body warmed up like a flame had been lit.
A moment later, Ayanokouji was hugging Hiyori.“Huh?”, Hiyori yelped in surprise.
“…Does it feel okay?”, Hiyori asked with concern from within his arms.
“To tell the truth, it doesn’t really,” Ayanokouji said, stroking her head affectionately. “But for some reason, I can forgive being made dirty by you.”
“…You’re rude,” Hiyori said with a laugh, and brought her arms around his back.
— ◆ —
In the seven days up to the new year, Ayanokouji and Hiyori had the most peaceful and fulfilling time of their lives. Everything they’d lost in their lives prior, that they couldn’t get, that they’d given up on, they took back one at a time. It was happiness that to most people wasn’t rare, just shabby and trivial, but to the two of them it was like a pipe dream. Just holding hands, just being shoulder to shoulder, just looking each other in the eye, were major events in their personal histories.
In these seven days, Ayanokouji never reached out toward Hiyori. Not out of any duty to Tsukishiro, or because he found her body impure, or because he lacked the courage to cross that line. He simply wanted to treat Hiyori dearly. He could afford to wait until she was a proper age to think about such things.
Perhaps sensing that consideration, Hiyori also refrained from excessive touching and showing skin, seemingly cautious not to stimulate him more than necessary.
Ayanokouji was very grateful for her cooperative attitude. Even with the difference in their ages, self-control was something that could very quickly crumble if poked too much.
Truthfully, in the last few days of the year, there was quite a panic over the mobile worm that wreaked havoc from Christmas Eve to Christmas night. The first mobile worm in the world to spread on such a large scale, SilentNight made a small etching in the history of malware. But Ayanokouji, who didn’t look at any form of news in those seven days after Christmas, had no way of knowing that.
At this point, nothing mattered to him. He felt like there was nothing but Hiyori worth giving his attention to.
Later, he’d look back and recall - maybe I knew somewhere in my heart that this was my first and last opportunity, so I could spend every second carefully and without regrets.
Ayanokouji was so convinced that these happy days wouldn’t last long, it was as if he’d seen the future with his own eyes.
Maybe it was just a feeling worming its way through his mind.
He chose not to ask Hiyori about the meaning of “I think I’ll kill you someday.” He felt having her reveal her secret would only shorten their already-short deferment.
Even if postponing the conclusion proved to be what caused Hiyori to indeed kill him, he wouldn’t mind that. If she wants to kill me, I’ll let her do as she likes, Ayanokouji thought to himself. Because if Hiyori went away, his life would no longer have meaning.
Tsukishiro appeared in the afternoon on January 1st. After the two paid a visit to a temple for the new year, they didn’t do anything and just dozed off in the room with the curtains closed. Just as Ayanokouji was a moment from falling asleep, he was pulled back to reality by the sound of the intercom.
He gently put Hiyori, sleeping soundly on his lap, on the bed without waking her, then answered his guest. Even after seeing Tsukishiro at the door, he was hardly fazed.
“I thought it was about time for you to come,” Ayanokouji said, his eyes squinting from the light.
“Is Shina Hiyori there?”, Tsukishiro asked. Because of the backlight, Ayanokouji couldn’t quite read his expression.
“She is. She’s asleep, but should I wake her up?”
“Yeah. Sorry, but do that.”
Ayanokouji returned to the room and gently shook Hiyori’s shoulders. “Tsukishiro’s calling,” he said, and she quickly opened her eyes and got up.
The two did as Tsukishiro told them to, and got in the back seat of a car parked outside the apartment. It was a gray car that left little impression and could easily be lost if it were parked in a large parking lot. The heater was on inside, and the seats had a faint aromatic smell.
For a while after the drive started, the three didn’t say a word. They got on the highway, and while stopped at a light, Tsukishiro finally spoke.
“Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. I’m going to have to tell you a somewhat shocking fact.”
“Tsukishiro,” Hiyori meekly interrupted. “…Don’t.”
But Tsukishiro ignored her, and continued.
“There’s a new kind of parasite residing in your head. It doesn’t have any official name yet, so we just call it the "worm.” To spare you the tedious explanations, it’s that “worm” to blame for you not being suited for society.“
Ayanokouji thought it must be some kind of joke.
Some kind of in-joke that only made sense to Tsukishiro and Hiyori.
But looking at Hiyori’s expression, it was very clear that it was no joke.
Her lips trembled, and with a face turned pale, she hung her head.
As if she were deeply ashamed that Ayanokouji had heard this.
"And this "worm” is in Shina Hiyori's head, too,“ Tsukishiro continued. "The worm in your head and the worm in Hiyori's head are calling to each other. You might think Shina Hiyori’s your fateful partner, but that feeling’s been created by the worm. What you have is nothing more than a puppet love.”
Tsukishiro’s expression, seen through the back mirror, looked completely serious.
Ayanokouji looked toward Hiyori, seeking words of denial.
But all that came out of her mouth was:
“…I’m sorry for deceiving you.”