My Girlfriend is a Death Row Inmate

Chapter 30 – Detestable Legends

My school life improved slightly, moving in a better direction. It turns out my classmates also felt guilty for turning a blind eye. Their failure to intervene was also part of the reason. That’s why they could apologize and resolve the issue. Now that the barrier is gone, they say we can chat casually from now on.

　――Don’t say that to everyone.

I know we were all victims in our own way. I’ve said it many times, but if it weren’t for Shizuku’s involvement, I wouldn’t have forgiven them. Without her, I might still be suffering from bullying, but that’s beside the point.

“Yo, Ryuma. Let’s eat together.”

“Sure.”

Among my classmates, Terunori was relatively earnest, apologizing personally while acknowledging that in such a situation, forgiveness was the only option. Indeed, if I had refused and said something like “I’ll never forgive you, just die!” in that situation, Kusune’s consideration would have been in vain, and it might have led to new troubles. To peacefully resolve the situation, I had to forgive them, regardless of the circumstances.

“…You promised not to bring it up again, right? You apologized, so that’s good enough for me. Let’s get along from now on.”

“No, that doesn’t sit well with me. Hey, do you want a girlfriend or something?”

“Well…?”

Seeking maternal gentleness from a high school girl like Shizuku, I’m not that much of a fool. Generally, a healthy relationship with a high school girl who lets you bury your face in her chest or allows you to touch her breasts…

…Am I developing a skewed value system?

If an ordinary person and a death row convict did the same thing, the latter would be more frightening.

“Hmm. Well, I guess it’d be a lie to say I’m not interested.”

“You’re surprisingly honest. Actually, there’s a girl you’d like. Well, she’s a third-year student.”

If that’s the case, Shizuku, who is also eighteen, would be a third-year high school student if she attended school. I’m sure she would be quite popular. Displaying such maternal instincts at her age is a kind of talent. It wouldn’t be surprising if the second and first-year students were captivated by her. Even among peers, she’s quite effective for those starved for maternal affection.

“——Could her last name be Nanagi by any chance?”

“Huh? That’s the death row inmate. If you mention her surname, it’ll be instantly recognizable. Do you know Tsutsuki Miharu?”

“…Who?”

Terunori looked at me as if I had seen something unbelievable, bringing his face closer.

“…Seriously, you don’t know?”

“I don’t.”

Until now, I had only thought about how to escape from the bullies, and lately, I’ve been preoccupied with Shizuku, so I haven’t given it much thought. However, I do like the sound of her name. It’s elegant… or perhaps sophisticated… It has a certain dignity to it.

Truly, that’s all there is to it, and without any further impressions or recognition, we are strangers.

“Well, I guess it’s not surprising you don’t know. It’s possible you just haven’t heard. She’s like a high-level player or someone from another dimension.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let me explain——”

Tsutsuki Miharu, the woman in question, apparently has a fiercely passionate and intense interest in whatever she takes an interest in, and no one can keep up with her topics of conversation. Academically, she’s average, but that’s because she lost interest in studying. When she’s engrossed in something, it’s said that she can solve problems she hasn’t studied for, as if she’s naturally talented.

When she became interested in gaming, she dominated local tournaments, and when she became interested in music, she joined a brass band club for a while and even managed to qualify for national competitions with a group that had consistently failed to qualify before. To put it simply, she excels in anything she likes, and while there are people who are drawn into her interests and socialize with her, such relationships reportedly don’t last long.

“…Well, that’s the gist of it. Right now, Miharu-senpai is obsessed with urban legends.”

What?

“But hey, our school doesn’t fund the kind of suspicious clubs you see in manga, right? So that’s why——”

“Wait, wait, wait. Did you say urban legends?”

“Yeah. You, Ayako and Housuke used to do all sorts of things back then. Before I hung out with you.”

“Cut it out! I don’t want to get involved in those kinds of discussions anymore!”

I hadn’t meant to raise my voice, but before I knew it, I was clearly expressing my refusal. I hate urban legends, whether they’re true or not. It’s beyond me why anyone would invest their time and energy in something so unrealistic and unscientific, with risks that are just as unnecessary.

Like I would ever entertain that.

“Huh? What’s wrong? But since Housuke transferred schools, you’re the only one left who knows the details.”

“Didn’t I tell you that if I said I’m not interested*, it would be a lie? It’s not that I urgently want it. If it’s possible, sure, I’d like it, but if it requires pushing beyond my limits, I’d rather not. Don’t bring up that topic again, okay? Let’s just pretend this conversation never happened.”

(e/n: * about getting introduced to Miharu-senpai)

“Oh, sure. My bad, I thought it was an interesting story… But…”

I inadvertently recalled something I’d rather forget—something even more distressing than the bullying. But since he meant no harm… I wasn’t actually angry. Glancing outside the classroom, I felt like my eyes met with Kusune’s, who was standing there, for a split second.

——————————

Speaking of which, there was something I hadn’t mentioned.

I’ve always disliked urban legends. It’s not that I don’t believe in them. I understand that they can be both true and false, and that they occupy a middle ground where they might be lies or they might be true. My aversion stems from there. I totally reject them. Urban legends should just disappear.

…Of course, exceptions include stories in which I have absolutely no involvement. For example, tales of a massive underground organization in Japan, a high school girl collaborating with the police, or the completion of a time machine. What I detest are urban legends that feel too close to reality.

Stories about the Akai Kami*, Aoi Kami*, Issun Baba*, Gurin-sama*, Ao-geji-jii*, Mahoroba Eki*, Utagoe Yuurei*, and the Uzumegata Ningyou*—there are already plenty of them. Whether they’re lies or truths, they have nothing to do with our world. Let those who want to be involved get involved. I don’t want to know.

(e/n: Japanese urban legends)

It’s commonly said that you shouldn’t trust someone who suddenly wants to reconnect after drifting apart, but I don’t trust her that much. I shouldn’t trust her.

If there were a club at this school that pursued such dubious matters, I would probably drop out on the spot. That’s how much I dislike them.

Even though I was ranting about the occult during class, an eraser rolled onto my desk. I initially thought it might be a beginner’s attempt at bullying, but it landed precisely on my desk—right in front of my face—so it was probably not the case. When I flipped it over to check, it had a message written in neat handwriting: “I have something to discuss with you.”

There’s only one person in my class who uses polite language with me, and this instance is even more remarkable.

The reason for the meeting was, more or less, as expected.