Chapter Ten

After checking that no one is watching for the millionth time, I approach the tiny box beside the guard house and chuck the stolen phone in the hole at the center; it's SIM card is crushed and no longer recognizable in a trashbin somewhere, all the call logs are deleted and no more evidence of my using the phone for my misdeed is left.

That part goes without saying. No way in hell I would leave a single trace behind.

The phone slides free in my hands and falls inside the small box with a hollow thud. Anyone can tell by the sound that there is nothing else inside the box but the phone. Figures. There's no such thing as a good person who will drop by the Lost and Found section just to return a lost phone. That kind of thing only appear in children shows; something that kids watch all the time only to be completely ignorant about it as they grow up. The world is corrupted enough to taint the innocent minds of children into being corrupted as well. No one's immune to it.

A growling sound comes from my stomach as I walk away from the guard house. I haven't eaten anything since first period, and now I feel famished. I make a quick trip to the cafeteria and purchase the last piece of yakisoba bread on the shelves. Even though I have a lot of things going on, it's still essential to feed myself— no wait, that goes for everyone. Everyone should eat. Can't risk dying of starvation, after all. That would be very lame, even for my case.

For a while, I sit on the bench out in the courtyard. The sun is up and it's warmth is caressing my face. The whole place is quiet. Everyone must be on the locker rooms now, preparing. It seems I am the only one having his last-minute lunch. Must be a good thing I chose this place, since I need to do some thinking — no, a lot of thinking, rather.

Gazing up above in the dull, steely sky, I let out a deep breath. Just the mere act of recalling the whole thing makes me feel overwhelmingly empty, but it has to be done. I must face the excruciating pain of my past mistakes in order to move on forward.

Last time I had gotten it all completely wrong.

I had tried to fight this war on the battle's stage, flailing my arms blindly at the front lines. I had focused all my energy on playing my part, not even realizing that I was just a chess piece given a head start advantage. If I want to succeed on this loop — or at least fail without any casualty — I have to rethink my strategies.

Instead of taking the main role, I must look behind the curtain. This time, there's no debut for an actor, for I have to act my role behind the scenes.

But how am I going to pull that off?

I unsettled the waters in the authority and made sure Hayama is cautious enough that he would cancel the party. The initial part of the plan worked, and I'm sure I at least pulled it off.

—The police force will do their job the moment I involve the diet representative on the whole thing.

—Hayama will definitely be worried for Yukinoshita if not for his own safety.

So far, I have done my job well, excluding a certain someone overhearing the whole threatening affair, which I'm certain won't be a huge problem, since I can sense that he's sincere on wanting to help me.

I will just hope that Zaimokuza has enough sense left to keep his nose out of this. I have enough people dying on my account already.

Time is 11:34, and the marathon will start as soon as everyone is ready and lined up in the square. I really have no choice but to run this marathon since the only reason I have to skip is not wanting to run at all, which I am sure Hiratsuka-sensei won't even try to consider.

It's a pain, but nothing could be done about it.

—Not until I realize that I could actually use this marathon to my advantage.

It's not set in stone yet that Hayama will really cancel the party. A huge part of me is actually worried that he would continue it, despite the death threat. I mean, who am I to assume that he really will cancel it? Hayama is still an incomplete mystery to me with regards to how he view his relationships. Do he see them as mere chesspieces to manipulate by his masks, or do he actually treasure them? Will his own life being in danger weigh more than his friends? Maybe he really treasure them and will risk continuing the party just to please them...

I shake my head in disgust. The idea is so revolting my head automatically repels it. Hayama is too shallow of a person to do something like that. The bastard who asked me to sabotage his supposed friend's love confession will never ever risk something as important as his safety for them.

But then again, I am not sure yet. If I want to erase my doubts, I must find a way to talk to him privately. It's a win-win situation. I can make sure if he really did cancel it, and if not... well, I can give him a little push. A little persuasion won't hurt, right?

And so, to make it happen, I need to make sure I can talk to him. With the marathon beginning a few moments from now, that guy would certainly be surrounded by his annoying fans, so getting at least a minute of his time is impossible task.

However, through the first January 11 and the first loop after it, what had given me the chance to talk to him?

Correct. It's the marathon.

That's why I'll run. I'll join the marathon and catch up to him even without anyone's interference. This time, I am on my own, but I'm sure I can do it. I can catch up now.

I stand up and throw the now empty pack of my lunch on the bin. If I need to do this, I must get moving, now.

First, let's head to the locker rooms. Part of me is hoping to see Hayama there, even by chance. That will make my job a lot easier, but the idea is so unlikely I ignore it.

It's a bit odd. I haven't been so worked up my whole life. Not even in the times when I encountered my own death. I mean, dying is a bit comforting in it's own strange way. It allows me to momentarily forget about my looping and everything that has happened before it. Death is peaceful because it snags all your attention to itself, not breaking contact until you die completely.

But then again, I died three times and am still alive, so the effect kind of weakened a little. However, unlike death, I feel that going about the whole process of breaking through every loop is more strenuous. Survival is a very risky job. On the other hand, death provides you an odd sense of tranquility. After all, who can harm the dead? It's living itself I need to work hard on, since it's apparent that I have a talent for dying.

Except this is not death. The place I am in now is a fucked up version of life. A living hell. That particular thought unsettles me the most. Like I am being led to traps all along. Part of me wants to backpedal and find an escape route. Who knows if all this turns out to be a messed up January 11 again. Death is never pleasant, and I would know that better than anyone else. Even than those who are already dead.

Also, after that strange last encounter with Haruno from the last loop, I realized that everyone around me can be considered as threat — no matter how friendly and no matter how sincere they seem. Haruno from the last loop remained indifferent until her last breath. Clearly she was intentionally keeping something from me. It might not be much, but she had an idea of what was going on.

It's her own decision, and blaming her dead version about won't do me any good. However, a secret is still a secret, and no matter how many times I twist and turn around the whole thing, what Haruno had done was not something I could accept.

She knew something, and her distrust towards me contributed to their deaths.

This makes me realize that I was basically walking in the same bloody trap she fell from. Keeping things from others, even to the person in danger herself. But telling other people about it only killed them. On the other hand, Haruno had a choice. She didn't have anything limiting her actions. She could've told me, but she didn't. That's the difference there. I'm not like her. I have learned my lesson and I am definitely not someone who would let myself get bitten by my own arrogance.

I am well aware of what I set off here to do — and that is to prevent the murder — not seek fun or amusement just because I find it interesting.

And besides, who can say that the murderers aren't just lurking around, watching me, watching Yukinoshita, and waiting for the perfect timing to pull the trigger?

No one, right? All I know is that they're out there, waiting, and all I can do is wait until they fall for the traps I've set for them.

—Traps that I am sure won't set off unless I have a quick talk with Hayama.

The bell signalling the end of break rings, and instead of going back to my classroom, I head straight to the locker rooms. Once I come inside, I change into my tracksuit in complete silence. The room is now empty, and as I expected, Hayama is nowhere to be seen. I just can't be bothered, really. The whole plan is about catching up to him in the marathon, anyway.

I finish changing, tie up my own pair of sneakers and head out. Just like the locker room, the hallway is empty as well, so I assume everyone must already be on the way to the venue.

Exhaling a drawn breath, I step forward and turn a corner.

"—Ack!"

Then déjà vu smacks me hard in the face.

A black haired girl, clad in the same gym clothes as mine, is rubbing her reddened forehead before me.

"Would it trouble you to watch where you're going at?"

It's Yukinoshita.

~※~

Tell you what, I can think of a number of ways to which this scene would unfold.

One, I could turn around and lock myself back in the locker room. Since I got an urge to vomit anyway, it isn't a bad plan. Two, I could spout a snarky comment about her suddenly showing up then walk out, which sounds kinda cool. Or three, I could just stand here like an idiot, my mouth open and my eyes wide, and just do nothing about this development.

Can you guess what I did?

Yeah. I think I'm an idiot too.

My face sinks faster than a corpse in cement boots. In this instant, my face stiffens, my mouth hang with lips parted and my eyes as wide as they could stretch. There isn't even a point in trying to breathe anymore, as my heart stopped just by the sight of her.

It's as if I have swallowed my whole tongue out of surprise. My capability to speak has went down into a series of incoherent stutters as my throat stiffened up. The other person present is the first to recover and examines me mutely, closely, as if she's studying a newly-found specimen.

"That's odd..." she mumbles, glancing at me with confused-looking eyes. "I thought I stepped on a cockroach. Turns out it's just you, Hikigaya-kun."

In response, I just inhale a sharp breath, suppressing a forthcoming shudder.

Calling me a cockroach is being charitable. I saw you die horribly two times. Died for you three times. But now, I used your name to threaten someone. At some degree, you're already a dead-girl walking, but I still added another weight to the falling blade. You died two times and it was partly my fault, but if you die this time — I'll be the sinner, the culprit of all. Calling me a cockroach is not enough.

I look at her arms. I don't know which one, but whatever part was it, it's now linked back to where it belong. The version of Yukinoshita in front of me now has her limbs intact. No more blood, no longer disfigured, no flaw. After being a gruesome bloody mess a loop ago, Yukinoshita has reverted into being flawless, immaculate.

I can never forget how beautiful and nightmarish this girl can be. Those images of hers will never leave the recesses of my brain even if I try to erase them. From her rarely-seen blushes to her grief-stricken tears, from her oddly-adorable teasing expression to her lifeless blood-smeared face. The way how the different images of her contrasted with one another is so overwhelming that even the mere act of picturing them send a wave of different emotions to wash over me.

She tilts her head upwards to fully face me, and shadows sweep over her smooth, cherubic face. There is darkness to her eyes, one that is so painful to look at as it reminds me of her dead version.

—She stares right through me, and I realize she feels nothing.

She knows nothing of all the morbid deaths she faced of all the mistakes I've made. She knows nothing of my efforts, of my hard works, and all of my sacrifices. She only acknowledges me as her club mate who took the recent request by himself, not as the one who died three times for her sake.

Then suddenly, I become aware of my own feelings.

—I want to tell her so badly. Everything, and I want to apologize as well.

Tell her about her dead versions and my unfulfilled promises. About her deaths and my tortured soul. About my unheard cries of help and her sufferings. About the days that will never come back. About the January elevens we could never escape from. About the nightmares I could never forget.

I think maybe if I could tell her how much she meant and why I am doing this, it would make it right, but there could never have been enough time, there would never have enough damn space between us, and every moment away from her make things feel so much less real. Every time without her on sight makes it feel more like a ruthless game than a gruesome reality.

Every time I work behind her, letting her dance in a sea of rainbows while I bathe at my own blood, it feels much better, it feels much righter. To let her see the world as a harmless one even though it will kill her at the end. At the very least it will not give her the same pain as me. She will die and be resurrected by the time I loop back.

I want to apologize about the weight of my own mistakes. I want to apologize for being so cocky, and to think of myself as someone who could save her. Just who am I, anyway? I am only a selfish creature. To think that Yukinoshita Yukino's life ends up being weighed upon my own filthy hands. Regret is all I have to offer now, and it'd never be enough. It would never suffice. I'd always be wanting more and leaving less. I fall behind as the world speeds forward.

What should I have done differently to make up for all these awful and unforgivable mistakes? Simple. I should have died. I should have let myself get shot repeatedly in the face, or be ran over countless times. I am ruining lives just by existing. And I am ironic by itself, like some kind of a stupid joke. Every time my existence cease to exist I will spring out of nowhere again, unscathed and fully loaded with an ammo of another round of misery.

But of course, I know those are all just arrogant words. I would never be brave enough to go through all it. Insanity can take me in, but I will never welcome it happily. Come by and go. My life is a cycle of repeating madness.

Contrastive to my inner wailing, my face instinctively forms a reassuring smile. I am never a man of smiles, and never a man of reassurances either, so it doesn't really come as a surprise that Yukinoshita didn't buy it.

My heart thuds in my throat, and I wish I could rid myself of it, because it's screwing with my head so much.

"Is something the matter?" she asks, still rubbing her forehead. "You look pale—"

She stops midway, her eyes widened in astonishment. Yukinoshita is completely startled, and it's because of something I have done — and still doing.

I am rubbing Yukinoshita's forehead with my own hand.

My thumb runs back and forth on the reddened part while I hold her head in place. This is the first time I have touched another person's face except my sister, the first time I take the initiative to act so intimately.

I can feel the warmth of her skin intermingling with my hand.

"I'm so sorry..."

My voice comes out in a strained, pained sound.

"I'm really, really sorry..." —Sorry for hitting your forehead. Sorry for everything. For taking too long, for Haruno, for everything. Forgive me.

I hear the sounds of incoming footsteps and I turn my back, walking briskly in the opposite direction. I gamble my chances and spare a look behind before turning a corner. Yukinoshita's bewildered by my actions, and I curse myself for handling that so badly. I was supposed to look strong, being her protector, but I ended up looking frail instead. I look away. Nothing can be done about that.

It's just a matter of seconds before I hear Yuigahama's confused voice talking to Yukinoshita until I am already out of sight.

~※~

Sunshine tickle my eyelashes, spilling warmth onto my face in spite of the deathlike chill that has glazed my skin. I look up and the blazing sun greets me with it's trickle of yellowish light. People are passing by, hurrying off to the starting point, bustling away and paying my existence no mind. Lifting my chin, I watch as my breath swirl against the frigid air. The marathon will begin in just a matter of time.

I'm late and the park is packed, so I barely find space on the same line as Hayama in the last pew. It hasn't started yet, though. Lots are talking. It's so noisy that I'm even amazed how they hear each other's voices. The whole sight brings back not-so-fond memories of the previous loops. It's exactly the same way: the cold weather, the dull sky, the students in tracksuits, the cheerings from the girls.

The only thing that's different is the place is swarmed with cops.

There are about eight of them, not in uniform, but I can tell, and when I look at his face, it's possible Hayama can too. After a while, some of them look my way and I get suddenly nervous that they are already suspecting me about the death threat. But it's impossible for Hayama to tell it was me and I'm sure of it. Perhaps I'm just being paranoid, a result of three consecutive deaths.

A minute later, I notice it's not just me they're all looking at. Their gazes are trained to Yukinoshita's direction for quite some time, who's uncharacteristically immersed in a talk with Yuigahama. The back of my neck tingles, and not in a good way. A hand drops on my shoulder and I see Zaimokuza standing beside me, his face impassive.

We both nod to each other and that's it.

I look at my phone. The screen flashes the time: 1:45. Isshiki's annoying voice can be heard through the crowd of other voices. Somewhere in there, I hear Yuigahama's voice, shouting words of encouragement to Hikki so I look her way and nod curtly, doing my best to avoid Yukinoshita's eyes.

I look forward once again, at Hayama, then I recall something as Hiratsuka-sensei rises up the platform with a pistol in her hand.

Hastily raising my hands, I cover my ears with them. For a moment, I mull about how stupid I look, but I was distracted by the muffled sound of something sickeningly resembling a gunshot.

I waited for someone to fall over, to scream, to drop dead.

But no one does.

Instead, everyone begin to run.

I heave a deep breath and rub my pounding chest.

I position myself, kick the ground and take flight. I fee like a gust of wind in the center of all this stupid runners who are sprinting frantically. It's a bit odd that I feel lighter than usual, but I don't question it. It's fun. Everyone thinks of me as well as what they do to air. I slip through them in ease, using the gaps formed by the already running-out-of-breaths, and minding my own steps. This is already my third time running this marathon. I am an expert at this.

This marathon is not solely about how fast you can run, but how long you can last. It's a contest of how long you can stay hitting the road without being exhausted. To progress, all you need to do is to keep your pace at moderate speed and wait for the others to naturally slow down. Of course, not everyone can get exhausted early, but with your energy being reserved by running on neutral pace, you can still have an advantage. If I just think through it, it's actually possible for me to win in this match.

I jog along the railings by the park, but that isn't even nearly how fast I could run. In these thighs is enough power to be clean across the park in seconds should I choose. Every footfall is soft, every movement swift I could be perfection even on autopilot. From my shirt come white wires going right up to my ears. I have my iPod going off, playing the most adrenaline-kicking track on my earpieces.

While carefully managing my every step, I keep watching for any signs of fatigue to the people in front of me. For a second, I gape in awe as I see the determined looks on the other's faces. They really are taking this seriously, whereas I'm doing this for completely irrelevant reasons. Well, nothing can really be done about that.

After a while, their full sprints become slow, until they just settle on jogging lightly.

This is my chance. Now's the time to strike the chink in the armor.

I run down the asphalts, my feet hitting the rough ground hard, sending shockwaves right up to my brain. My lungs heave like the air is fire and every part of me feels like it would burn at any moment. Now is the time to run like it's all my body knows how to do. The soles of my sneakers are kissing the ground. Just a little while ago, I have balked at idea of running so fast, but now I relish the prospect. These feet of mine are designed to travel at a speed of a rabid dog. Not made to run blindly, or to run aimlessly. These are designed to prey, to chase.

You've seen it on the cartoons when someone moves so fast all they leave behind is a blurred trail of color, right? Well that's how I must have seem when I run past the other runners. A surge of pride swells through me. The stupid looks on their faces are priceless.

Through the vapor arising from my every breath, I spot a lone figure jogging ahead. It's amazing how he gets past through all those idiots with this pace, but I guess he's also controlling his breathing like I am. Hayama covers the ground with a great lolloping gait that suggest his ankles are made of tightly coiled springs rather than the sinew and bone the rest of us have. Each one of his mighty strides are worth at least two of mine, and with the slightest of effort, he outran the rest of us, barely breaking a sweat and not panting in the least.

Exerting more power to my legs, I try to catch up to him. Outrunning the exhausted ones might seem easy, but catching up to Hayama is no small task. After all, I am talking about a well-trained high school football star, molded into being a viscous runner. He runs like there's no tomorrow, and I internally laugh at the term as it fits perfectly well with my case: No tomorrow.

Anyway, regardless of all that, and with the exception of the protests my throbbing thighs are screaming, I successfully manage to catch up.

Hayama notices me almost instantly. First, he looks a little startled, and maybe even a little scared. He begins running faster, and I struggle to keep up with his pace. The sun is a blurred blot behind the skyscrapers. My breath expels in puffs, and I watch Hayama's back, his gym clothes rustling with every step.

One loop ago, he ran so confidently, like he could take a step and pave a street with gold just by pressing his feet against against the ground. The person before me is not like that. What I saw back then was a motivated person heading for the finishing line, while this one's different; he runs like he's running away from something.

Is he avoiding me? I ask myself in panic. Does he know that I was the one who called him, who threatened him?

Worrying won't do me any good, so I force to keep as calm as possible. Once again, I push myself forward to line myself with him. This time, he doesn't try to avoid me, so I just take it as him accepting my presence. The first thing I do is to watch him in the corner of my eye, thinking of a good way to start the conversation. Uncharacteristic to him, his face turns out to be grim, a little tired-looking even. Surely, this sod is not the douchebag I resent, and I suddenly know how I'm going to strike a conversation.

"You don't look good. Want a piggyback?"

In response, he spares an annoyed glance at me, scowls and looks away again. His face hardens, taking an unreadable defensive expression.

"Look," he says through gritted teeth. "If this is about which course I took again. It's useless. Stop bothering me."

Oh, I suppress the urge to smile. Agitated, I see.

I let out a small, mocking snicker. "No, I don't really give a damn about that crap anymore."

For a moment, something flashes beneath the surface of his hardened expression and I hurry to observe the sudden shift. It's too late, though. It disappeared before I could identify it, like a passing breeze. One moment it's there for you to feel and see, the next it's lost forever.

Hayama doesn't respond a single word.

Slightly disappointed, I keep on running.

Just like a game of hide and seek, I remind myself. Only with both of us hiding, both of us seeking. In this little game, he will try to decipher my intent while I deduce his thoughts with the help of his reactions. At the very least, I'm proud at my proficiency in this field. Hayama is so good at hiding while I excel at searching carefully hidden things. Anyone with a fully functioning brain can see who has the advantage here.

Still, it will be so hard to search for something that is hidden under the thickest of masks, and there's only one solution to that.

If a mouse refuses to leave its territory, lure it out, use a bait that it can't ignore.

"I was just wondering why would Haruno kill somebody."

Alright, I'll admit. The sudden shift in Hayama as I said that is absolutely terrifying.

This person in front of me is no longer the one who laughed at my dark humor one loop ago. For starters, he looks like Hayama, except his expressions. In fact, his face is expressionless with no sign of feelings. Facial expressions are for those who have emotions and a mind able to choose for itself. But his dark hollow eyes show that he has neither, and he fully know what he is doing. This sudden shift is intentional, and he wants me to see it.

I wonder for a brief moment why I was so affected by this. It's not even the very first time Hayama showed a genuine sign of hostility towards me. That little scene on the rooftop during the school festival is still fresh in the back my mind. He also admitted it many times before: I'm not as nice of a guy as you make me out to be. I am aware that there is this side hiding behind Hayama's facades all along, but it still came as a shock to me. Not the part where he shows it — but why he has shown it.

Haruno and Yukinoshita. You really care a lot about those two, don't you, Hayama?

I do my best trying to remain impassive. We're still running, but Hayama just keeps on glaring at me with cold eyes. I'm positive he won't talk unless I explain myself, so by the time we reach the bridge, I breathe deeply and look at him.

"I heard you talking on your phone during break."

It's a risky gamble. I have no idea where Hayama was by the time I called him. He might be in the classroom, he might be hiding at some other comfort room. Either way, I think I'm still safe with my bet despite the risks. In fact, I can even see this as an opportunity to reach a win-win situation. If he buys it, then the conversation is up. But if he doesn't, I can just make him willingly say where he was, and steer him to my desired topic of choice.

Staring isn't quite the word for what Hayama is doing, though he'd fit the dictionary definition to a tee. His eyes focus, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect is harsher than I could have ever imagined. It's impossible to tell what's going on in his mind.

"No one else is in the clubroom," he finally mutters, and I resist the urge to throw a fist in the air. The clubroom, huh?

"Hayama, I am starting to wonder if your brains don't even live up to that always brilliant smile of yours," I say in my usual tone, still mocking, but contained. "Your voice can be easily heard through door, you know."

Those are the same words Zaimokuza told me as he overheard me. I just hope he'd buy that. I slow my pace, and I notice as he does the same. Finally, I got him hooked.

"Tell me about it," I say in the most concerned tone I could muster.

"And what will you gain by knowing about it?"

Strange, I'm sensing a tinge of doubt there. Does he think that I am trying to do something underhanded with this? Oh, well, I really am, huh...

It can't be helped, then. What the third loop has given me more than anything is my latest asessment on Hayama. It's a bit wierd, but it's also obvious that he has a very soft spot for Yukinoshita — even when I am involved. It's a wierd relationship, really. It's apparent that he hates me as a person, but he never had shown any signs of disapproval on my presence on Yukinoshita's life. In fact, it even feels like he's welcoming it.

That part is still an unsolved equation to me. But whether it be solved or not, I'm still positive that I can use that fact to work in my favor. Hayama appreciates it when I show concern towards Yukinoshita, and I know he's not a total idiot by all means.

Let's mislead him, then.

"Nothing much. Just reassurance," I say.

Make yourself look motivated, determined.

I look up at him, my eyes narrowed, but full of passion.

But still show some uncertainty with a hint of unwillingness.

Then I look down, sighing deeply while scrunching up my face.

Also, it wouldn't hurt to put a touch of suppressed embarrassment.

After a little while, I glance back at him, then pull my gaze back sharply, startled.

Show him that you want to help, but unsure of what to do.

The effect is beyond amazing. His eyes soften instantly as if he is looking at a child crying for help. A hint of smile can be seen forming on his face before he looks away.

—No, I'm fine with anything as long as she's okay.

It reminds me of the look he had given me after I said those words.

"You also heard the part about Yukinoshita-san, huh..." he mumbles, nodding as if coming up to a realization. "And you're trying to get yourself involved for her sake."

Yeah, buddy. You have been exorbitantly misguided.

To make a lasting effect, I keep looking forward without responding.

The tables have turned. Now it's his turn to make me cooperate.

"A death threat for me..." he mutters. "And as you might have heard, Yukinoshita-san's also threatened, although indirectly."

I try to look a little worried, then ask, "Have you told the police about this?"

"I have." He nods, looking behind us. No one's around but the two of us. The others are all left behind. "I also heard about an anonymous report that's possibly linked to the whole thing. Something about a tip about a murder plan. Not sure, but it involves her as well."

My eyes narrow at this. "The police told you?" I remember the reminder the police woman has given me earlier: I will inform Yukinoshita-san's family about this. But Hayama is not family , so why was he informed?

"No. Haruno told me about this. She got the news from the police."

My heart jumps up to my throat. Haruno. I have actually forgotten about her for just a second. Seems like she's chosen to use Hayama to safeguard Yukinoshita while in school. Question is: just what kind of plan is she brewing at this moment? And since thinking about what Haruno has up her sleeve fills me with dread, I choose to ignore it for a while.

Instead, I ask, "Does Yukinoshita know about this?" I swallow, hard. Just imagining of Yukinoshita's reaction should she be informed that someone's trying to take her life is very painful. Would she panic? Be scared? Would she even react at all?

"Haruno wants to keep everything from her," he sighs. "She thinks it's better not to tell her — but I don't think so."

Hayama's defiance toward Haruno kind of amused me a little. "So you will tell her?"

"I don't know..." he shakes his head, then looks at me with anticipant eyes. "What do you think? Should I tell her?"

"Do whatever you want," I snort. "Not like I have a say in it."

Hayama's eyes are trained on some invisible spectre, his heavy eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, his irises too stationary. It's as if his brain is suffering a massive short circuit and is struggling to compute. For a while, he's like that. Then he looks away with a pensive smile. His head tilts upward to the sky, eyes sliding into focus.

"Honestly speaking, you know Yukinoshita-san now more than I do," he says without looking at me. "Your judgement with regards to her would be more on point. So tell me, Hikigaya. Should I tell her?"

To be honest, I don't really have to think much of it. "Don't," I say, not skipping a beat.

"I expected that," he mutters with a smirk.

"So what's the plan?"

He looks at me and flashes a smug look. "Do nothing and wait."

"What? Like baits? You're using yourselves as baits?" The very thought of it actually disturbs me. Not solely because the act itself is so risky — but because I realized that I was practically using Hayama and Yukinoshita as baits to lure the murderers on my traps. "That's... a bit risky," I mumble, more to myself than him.

Hayama just shakes his head. "We have the police's protection. First priority is our safety, but if by chance the suspect shows up, they'll be there to apprehend him."

So you really are using yourselves as baits, I sigh. Not like I'm any better.

"Hikigaya..." Hayama pulls me out of my trance. I look at him, and I have to resist the urge to flinch as I'm greeted by his suspicious look. "You don't seem alarmed at all."

Because I have already been through the same thing multiple times, dumbass.

I look at him with reproachful eyes. "So are you."

"Hiding my emotions has already became instinctive to me," he says, and I'm briefly reminded of the foul-mouthed version of him from earlier. Then, he sighs. "Also, I am, but not so much. I'm certain I won't die tonight. My real concern is Yukinoshita-san, since I have this odd feeling that she's the actual target... that my death threat is just a decoy. "

Part of what he just said perturbs me. So, I ask, "Are you saying that you feel safer knowing that Yukinoshita's the real target instead of you?" Anyone can notice the pure hostility in my tone. Good thing the other runners are still far back behind us.

"No, not at all." He waves his hand in protest. "It's because I keep reminding myself that Haruno is involved — and she can do almost anything she wants."

"Almost," I sneer at him. "Haruno's just human. Collective thinking is usually short-lived. Like everyone else, she's just a fickle, stupid being with sadistic tendencies and great gift for self-destruction."

Hayama looks at me as if I have two heads. "That's... a very insightful assessment."

I saw her cry beside her dead sister and watch her as she explode to pieces. I know Haruno in the strangest way possible. That assessment is nothing.

Forcing the surge of bad memories at the corner of my thoughts, I stare at him with a demanding look. "Give me something to do." It's obvious that I can't just follow Yukinoshita around for the rest of the day without looking suspicious. Not with the police guarding her every move. I need to be involved in Hayama's plan to prevent any troubles from happening.

Hayama thinks about it for a moment. "Well, I will have an important meeting with my parents after this marathon." He nods. "You can look after her in my behalf."

—an important meeting after the marathon. Meaning, there will be no party. The plan is a success, he actually cancelled it.

I internally high-five myself.

There's really no point trying to run to him, now that I already got my confirmation. But just thinking of bailing at this point leaves a foul taste on my mouth. This time, I want to keep running. In this loop, it will be a race where there's never a question of stopping until the finishing line is crossed. I can't say I am good at pacing myself, that skill still eludes me, but I know how to keep going even when my body tells me there is no more in the tank. There is always a reserve if I'm stubborn enough to demand it, and I am. I already lost enough marathons with this guy. Now's the time for me to run with the intention to win.

But just as I am to sprint at full speed and make him eat dust, Hayama speaks.

"Do you know what the right thing is?" He stops on running so I do, too. "What are the qualifications of a correct decision?"

It definitely comes as a complete shock, to see history repeating itself.

Those are the exact same words he asked to me during the first loop.

The only difference is, unlike then, I know how I am going to answer now.

"There is no such thing as a right choice," I start with a light jog, urging him to follow along. "An awful decision can be beneficial to someone, while your supposed right choice can kill someone else."

I look at him, and I am greeted by his awestruck face. Clearly he wasn't expecting a straight and honest answer from me. But I feel like giving him one, so I continue.

"If you want to do something, do it, whether it be right or wrong. What matters is your conviction to face the outcome, regardless of what they may be."

Our pace quickens until we're back to the way we run from earlier.

"You sound like you're talking through experience..." he says with a curious look.

Oh, you don't know the half of it, Hayama.

I just realize that aside from wanting to tell Yukinoshita, I also want to tell someone else about this, just to relieve a bit of the huge emotional burden. Hayama is the last person I will tell about this, but he's here already, and I have a feeling that he would understand.

"Once, I made a choice. And it made people suffer. It's obviously my fault."

I intended my voice to sound like a cry of forgiveness, but it comes in a blank tune.

"But despite all that... even though I feel like I made the right choice. I still can't help but wonder..."

While running, I glance at Hayama. Like a good child, he's listening attentively.

"Was it really the right choice?" I ask while running out of breath. "Maybe doing the right thing only leads to the worst outcome?"

Hayama's face is impassive and unreadable. He puts on a solemn, thoughtful look.

"I don't know. I never have. I can believe in my own capabilities, or the choices of the companions I trust." Amidst the vapor he expels from his mouth, he shakes his head.
"But no one ever knows how it will turn out, Hikigaya. No one."

Yes, even for someone who went through the same thing four times like me.

He lets out a small laugh. "However, If that's the case, if you want to try something else, do it." I can now hear the footsteps of the other runners moving closer. "Just like you said: what matters is whether you will be willing to face the consequences, no matter what they will be."

I raise a brow at him, wondering about what point it is to throw my words back—

"If the choice you think is the right one doesn't work... then do it the Hikitani-way."

—Then he said that, and I am actually left speechless.

"Do it wrong, do it viciously, do it roguishly and just sit around, watching how it will blend perfectly well with how twisted the world is."

For the first time in this loop, Hayama gives me a smile that's not a result of my fake and calculated expressions. The sight is a bit nostalgic.

"Maybe that way it will turn out better."

With that, he blasts out like a rocket ship, running in a way that left me awestruck.

I try to catch up. With the way the things are going on, I can really keep up with that pace. I'm not that tired yet. In fact, since only a couple of exhausted looking athletes are behind me, I can actually pass up for the second place.

However, I am reminded of why I ran this marathon in the first place. So instead of running after Hayama, I slow my pace into a light jog, letting the others run past me. I keep jogging alone for another couple of minutes until I reach the finish line.

Unsurprisingly, Hayama took the first place.

I skip the awarding's ceremony and head to the locker rooms instead. From wearing my tracksuit, I change into my regular uniform. Since I have no place else to go right now, I start wandering around the empty hallways. The cheers and loud voices from the square can be heard through the open windows. I walk, walk walk, walk...

And by the time I notice it, I am standing in front of the infirmary's door.

I consider it for a moment. Meeting Yukinoshita right now, and after that little scene earlier would be a bit... embarrassing, by all stretch. But then, I would be meeting her anyway, so what the hell. After running a hand through my disheveled hair, I raise my other hand to knock on the door— but I stop midway, my hand still raised.

A bubbly voice I wasn't expecting is coming out from behind the door.

It's Yuigahama's.

Okay, this is unexpected, but not entirely surprising. Yuigahama had been here, or will be coming here anyway if I base it from the original January 11. Initially, she'd been here with Yukinoshita, then left by the time I arrived. Maybe it's because I've arrived too early. Great timing. The best thing I need right now is Yuigahama to brighten the will-be-awkward mood. Her presence is more than welcome.

I knock, followed by Yuigahama saying, "Um, c-come in," then I twist the knob.

The smell of antiseptics, rubbing alcohol and freshly open box reach my nose.

Upon coming in, I am greeted by two girls, sitting face to face with each other.

Yuigahama, who's looking at me is sitting on a chair parallel to another person.

Except that other person is not Yukinoshita Yukino.

—But a teary-eyed Miura Yumiko.

Note: That little part on Hayato and Hachiman's talk was inspired by a scene from a certain story in this very same fandom. Hint: it's an excellent Haruno fic.