True Education: I Have a Life Simulator

You ascended the stairs—and saw a white cat.

It was massive, blocking the entire hallway. Its fur was pure white, and its eyes, almost as large as your own body, glowed with a phosphorescent gleam. It simply lay there, as if it had been waiting for your arrival.

"Hotaru?" The name surfaced in your mind almost instantly. You had raised this cat. How many times? Once? Twice? Three times? Or perhaps even more?

Its enormous head nudged against your body like it used to. Had it been a normal-sized kitten, it would've been a display of affection. But a cat larger than you pressing its forehead against your chest? That was something else entirely. You were just grateful it didn't try to lick you.

"Why are you here?" you asked as you stroked its fur. Then, as if remembering something, you gave it a light tap on the head.

"Let me through. I have to get past."

Hotaru shook its head. In your mind, you heard its voice.

"No."

This had to be a dream. Cats didn't talk in real life. You grew agitated and shoved at it.

"Honami's over there. You know her, don't you? Let me through."

Hotaru still shook its head. It blocked the corridor stubbornly, staring at you with those luminous eyes.

"Fine," you said, raising your hands.

"If you won't let me pass, then tell me: which way should I go?"

"That depends on where you want to go."

"I don't care where."

"Then any direction is fine."

"As long as Honami is there."

Hotaru nodded, then grabbed you by the back of your collar and, before you could react, flung you off the stairs. The last words echoing in your mind:

"Anywhere will do. After all, they're all her nightmares—dreams she has no control over."

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"Alright. Even though we've met many times before, let me introduce myself again. I'm Kusaka Ayako. No need to be nervous or mind my position. For now, I'm just a listener—a friend."

The woman, a psychologist in her thirties, spoke gently to the girl sitting opposite her. Even though there was no one else in the room, the girl curled up, arms wrapped around her knees, clutching something tightly in her hands. Strands of messy bangs barely revealed her blue eyes peeking out.

Kusaka Ayako sighed. Ichinose Honami had become the most difficult case at the clinic in recent days. She was already the third psychologist assigned to her. The first had merely introduced herself as Kitahoku Ryoko and was met with screams and a violent dismissal. The second, known for using aromatherapy, had lit a rose-scented candle—prompting the girl into total silence for an entire day.

"I'd like to hear again—why did you come here?"

Kusaka tried to steer the conversation gently, holding a form Ichinose had filled earlier.

"Because you saw something that frightened you?"

The girl began to tremble again. The psychologist reached out, gently taking her hand, hoping her warmth would ease the fear.

"Don't be afraid. It's over now. I'm here with you."

"Things become easier once you say them out loud. Saying them means you've accepted them."

"Didn't I accept it already? Didn't I already admit it?"

Ichinose Honami tilted her head and suddenly let out a cold laugh.

"It's written right there on your paper. I've said it. I killed someone. I confess! I'm guilty! Is that enough?"

By the end, she was shouting. Covering her eyes, tears flowed between her fingers.

"Is that enough?! Is it still not enough?!"

"But Miss Ichinose, your mental state is crucial to the final verdict. The victim's mother has been urging the court for a swift ruling. Yet your own mother insists you'd never do such a thing—that your mental state was unstable at the time…"

"And…"

She met Ichinose's eyes.

"Since that day, you haven't been able to sleep without medication. Isn't that right?"

"Your mother and your sister are still waiting for you. Think of them—they're worried about you."

Kusaka continued gently.

"That's why we need to understand your mental state. What happened that day? I'd like to hear it in your own words."

Her eyes flickered slightly at the mention of "mother" and "sister." Slowly, she opened her mouth.

"I killed… my childhood friend, Kitagawa Ryo."

A long silence followed. Kusaka didn't ask anything further. She knew this was already the biggest breakthrough in days.

She stared at the bloodshot layers in Ichinose Honami's eyes. The girl was trembling, staring down at her own pale hands—now empty. Time may be the greatest bleach, but in her eyes, they were still stained with blood.

"No… that's not right, is it?"

Ichinose let out a nervous laugh.

"I was supposed to kill Karuizawa Kei, wasn't I? Why Ryo? Ryo already went abroad by plane. He wrote me a birthday card before he left. He promised we'd watch the fireworks together next year."

She extended her palms to Kusaka.

"Actually, we've seen fireworks together so many times. Look—I'll count them for you."

"When I was six, he bought me a candied apple."

"At seven, he gave me a kitten."

"Eight—I caught more goldfish than him."

"Nine—he bought me a large takoyaki set."

"Ten—he said my new yukata looked pretty."

"Eleven—he got me cotton candy."

"Twelve—he gave me a big black umbrella."

"Oh."

She pressed down each raised finger one by one.

Ichinose took the pen from Kusaka's hand and wrote on her left palm:

"I."

Then on her right:

"K."

"That umbrella had I&K carved into its handle—our initials."

"And then..."

She took the form from Kusaka's hands, folded it into a paper crane.

"Ah, I forgot."

Kusaka silently watched as Ichinose unfolded the paper again, scribbling over the crime line—"Cause of death: Kitagawa Ryo"—with one long stroke:

"I like you."

Kusaka Ayako, a psychologist rarely admitting failure, for the first time felt a deep sense of helplessness.

She stepped out of the room, still holding the paper crane.

Looking back into the empty room—

Ichinose Honami had fallen asleep, clutching the birthday card. Her lips curved upward, as if she were dreaming a beautiful dream.