"Is it… all over now?"
"Yes, and completely. The so-called curse has ended with your class. Your kouhais will no longer be affected."
"That's a relief… then the tape we found before…"
"It's destroyed."
Late at night, the three who had searched the old classroom for Matsunaga Katsumi's tape—Naoya, Tomohiko, and Koichi—met with Rinji.
The tape claimed that killing the 'dead one' would end the calamity, but Rinji had kept it sealed until everything was resolved.
"If the tape had been revealed before the identity of the 'dead one' was confirmed, suspicion would have spread, and with a bit of bad luck, it might have turned into killing each other."
Rinji looked at the three of them.
"You all must have had thoughts of killing, haven't you?"
"…"
Naoya and Tomohiko lowered their heads.
Knowing the calamity could be solved by killing the 'dead one,' they had indeed entertained the thought, though they never knew who it was.
"Thinking about it is fine. As long as you didn't act on it, just having those thoughts isn't shameful," Rinji said with a smile.
He pulled the tape from his pocket, crushed it in his hand, and dropped the broken case and tangled film to the floor. Then he lit it with a lighter, burning it to ash.
Now its contents were erased forever.
"With this, it's all over. You can return to your lives."
"Whew… it really feels like that month of living in fear was just a dream," Naoya laughed. "It's all thanks to you being here. By the way, what method did you use to solve everything?"
"Special methods from professionals. Cut the curse off at its root."
"I see."
Tomohiko adjusted his glasses.
"As expected of someone who specializes in handling supernatural cases."
"You flatter me."
"…Takamine." Naoya looked at him with reluctant eyes. "You really… won't come back?"
"No."
"Even if it's a lie, you could at least say you would, damn it."
"Sorry. I'm not good at lying."
Looking at Naoya's clenched fists and sorrowful face, Rinji could only smile apologetically.
He knew—this farewell would be twenty years long. They would go on with their lives here, while he returned to his own time.
"We're friends, right?"
"Of course."
All four smiled, bumping their fists together.
Naoya and Tomohiko went back to their rooms, but Koichi stayed.
"Takamine, this year's 'dead one' was…"
"Assistant homeroom teacher Mikami Reiko," Rinji answered. "Your aunt."
"…She once told me about Class 3-3. She was part of it back then. When the 'dead one' appears, memories are altered." Koichi touched his head with a wry smile. "I… remembered some things too."
He realized why he had really come to Yomiyama.
It wasn't for his father's work or to connect with his mother's hometown. It was to attend Reiko's funeral.
Half a year ago, she drowned at Yomiyama. His family had been devastated.
At the funeral, fragments of memory had begun returning.
The black-and-white photo in his grandfather's arms was of Mikami Reiko.
"My aunt should have been dead, but…" Koichi looked toward the lit window on the inn's third floor. "Why was she still here…?"
"Her being alive was the key to breaking the curse," Rinji said with a smile. "Now, she's just a living person, nothing more."
"…Takamine, thank you. No matter what, I'll repay you someday."
"Tell me when we meet again."
---
The next day, the trip ended and the students returned to school.
They had wanted to spend a day preparing a farewell gift for Rinji, but hearing he would leave today, they could only protest helplessly.
After leaving the classroom, Rinji walked alone down the empty school corridor, looking around at the scenery.
This was his thirty-first day living in 1998. It all felt like a dream.
"Takamine."
"Mei."
Even without turning around, Rinji knew who stood behind him.
Mei tugged gently at his sleeve, speaking in the softest voice.
"Come with me somewhere?"
"Sure."
He didn't refuse, walking with her deep into the school building.
They opened a classroom door. Inside were scattered easels and boards, each holding unfinished watercolor paintings.
"This is the art room. I'm a member of the art club too."
She smiled and pointed to a chair in the middle of the room.
"Would you sit there for me?"
"So you want me as your model," Rinji laughed. "But wait a moment—I don't want to be painted looking like this."
Looking around, he picked up a craft knife lying by one of the easels, used by art students to sharpen pencils.
His hair had suddenly grown long, and he didn't want to keep it that way. He tied it into a ponytail, then cut it clean off at the band.
The waist-length hair fell away instantly.
Mei stepped forward and caught the golden strands before they hit the ground.
"Your hair is beautiful," she said, stroking it. "Can you give it to me?"
"Sure, take it."
"Thank you."
She carefully placed the long hair on the desk, then pulled a pair of scissors from her pencil case and stepped behind him.
"Let me tidy it up."
"Thanks."
The sound of snipping filled the quiet room as bits of hair fell to the floor.
Before long, his hairstyle was back to normal.
"There, it's done."
"Thanks."
After finishing, Mei returned to her seat, fixed a blank sheet to her board, and sharpened her pencil.
She observed him—sitting calmly with a faint smile—and began sketching.
The art room was silent, save for the sound of pencil against paper.
Mei drew quietly, and Rinji remained still as her model.
Even knowing their parting was near, neither spoke a word.
A basic portrait sketch could be done in three hours by a beginner, and Mei was no beginner.
But she took a long time.
Perhaps because she wanted perfection, or perhaps simply to prolong the quiet time together.
Only she knew which it was.
She seemed unaware of the time, only continuing to trace his image with her pencil.
There was no clock here, only the changing light outside the window showed the passage of time.
The drawing lasted from noon until dusk.
It wasn't until the golden sunset streamed into the art room that Mei finally stopped.
She set down her pencil, looked at the sketch before her—an image identical to Rinji—and gently laid a finger on the drawing, murmuring:
"I'll never forget you."
The sunset passed through the window, casting a red glow on Mei's cheek.
And on the model's seat before her, wrapped in the same warm light, there was no one left.