The book's layout had always been pretty laid-back, and it left a lot of empty s.p.a.ce around the text. There was a lot of s.p.a.ce between lines, too. And in that empty s.p.a.ce, other sentences had been densely written in red pen.

There were red lines drawn through my words.

As if to say that these sentences were wrong and the ones written in red were the correct ones!

You're really dangerous and arrogant and selfish, and I hate you and detest you.

How could you act so cruelly and hurt me like that?

You watched, laughing, as my heart was slashed to ribbons by a glinting, transparent blade, and I screamed and spilled stinking blood and writhed in pain.

Sloppy letters like an elementary school student would write.

I recalled that Miu had clutched my book in her hospital bed. The memory was like a thunderclap, and my heartbeat quickened.

That swollen book with the faded cover, the tattered and rippling pages- Had Miu written these red letters?!

You always, always saw me suffering and laughed in pleasure.

Then you would cuddle up next to me, steal all sorts of things from me, and destroy me.

So you'll forgive me if I take my revenge on you, right?

Miu was the model for the young boy Hatori, who'd dreamed of being an author in Like the Open Sky.

And the young girl Itsuki who narrates was like my alter ego.

I was too shy to leave Itsuki as a boy and Hatori as a girl, so I switched their genders.

The story is told from Itsuki's first-person perspective.

But the story in red pen was told from Hatori's perspective.

Whenever I see your moronic face, there are times I get so annoyed it kills me.

At those times or when I get a phone call or when the trash can gets full, I always do it.

I feel like the dizziness is gradually getting worse, but why should I care?

If I don't do it, I won't be me anymore.

I clicked on the image at one edge of the screen, and forgetting even to breathe, I was transfixed by the confessions of a dangerous boy with dark flames simmering inside his chest-totally different from the Hatori that Itsuki talks about.

About how Hatori was a habitual shoplifter.

About how he used his imagination on the things he stole to give them stories.

Everyone says I'm a liar.

They shut me out from their groups and look at me coldly or whisper dirty things or laugh cruelly.

"That kid's a liar. Don't talk to him."

But I was the one who didn't want to say a thing to them.

I did things they couldn't do, and I saw things they couldn't see. I was able to hear things that they couldn't hear.

My world was always spilling over with new stories, and I was the king of my world.

So I never wanted to put myself into their cramped, boring worlds, and I was just peachy all on my own!

Hatori said pridefully how wondrous the world that surrounded him was.

Stories always fell, shining, into his lap. He was happy just to pick up the stories raining down from the sky.

That was when Itsuki appeared before Hatori.

One day you came into my world.

You approached me with an unwary, innocent smile and begged me for stories. You started to share the stories that only I had seen, the stories that were mine alone.

By the time I realized I'd made a mistake, my world had fallen into brutal ruin and lay destroyed in tatters.

My hand trembled in the cold as I moved the mouse.

For Itsuki, meeting Hatori had been a joyful experience. Itsuki's world had been broadened by Hatori and glittered brightly in every corner.

But had it not been that way for Hatori?

Had Itsuki's existence been nothing but repugnant to him?

When school ended, I went to your house every single day, remember? Every single day.

But really, I didn't want to go there.

Your house was like a pretty birdcage. I felt as if my wings had been clipped and I was locked up like that little white bird. It was gut-wrenching.

I hated your house.

I hated your family so much it made me sick.

But you-I hated you most of all.

A pang like someone had punched me in the head, like my limbs were being cut away, coursed through my whole body.

The ferocity of Hatori's-of Miu's-hatred came through in the words and sentences that had been written with such pressure that it deformed the page.

The bright red letters seemed like they would rise up off the computer screen any second and bite into my eyes and throat.

But I had to read it. I had to discover how Miu had felt being with me.

Outside my window, the snow was falling incessantly, and it was still dim.

My mother came to tell me that school was canceled because of the snow.

I told her I didn't need breakfast and read on.

From time to time, there were scribbles labeled as notes in the corners.

The phone again.

That's the thirtieth time today. They know I hate the phone, and they call me anyway.

Even though I tell them to text me, they don't listen. They're smiling repulsively on the other end of the phone. They'll keep calling and calling and calling until I answer.

I got a call. It's awful. I hate you, B!!

Dirty things are gradually filling up the trash can.

I just couldn't allow it, just couldn't stand it, and I made the call. I hung up in the middle of it. Phones are so useless.

Phones make me sick! Don't call me!

Shut your mouth, B! I'm not looking for your opinion!

Don't give me orders! Get out!

Stop calling!

Miu got annoyed at frequent phone calls. It scared her.

Was the B who appeared so often Akutagawa?

Was this Bulcanillo a name?

And there was more.

There were also sentences in the notes that made me think that she had swiped Akutagawa's cell phone and e-mailed Kotobuki.

I got hold of the same model and switched them. The next day he came in looking pale and was in my face, asking if I'd looked at his phone and telling me not to do anything stupid, so I scratched him. He's so useless and yet so preachy. I hate it!

I sent an e-mail to that hussy thief.

I got a reply.

She's trying hard to hide it, but she's pretty scared. I didn't know she was so weak.

She'll be easy.

B's plan is a pretty good one. I'm positive Konoha will come see me.

So the cuts Akutagawa said he'd gotten from a cat scratching him were actually from Miu!

And now that I thought about it, around that time he'd been asking me constantly if I'd gotten any weird phone calls or messages.

And Kotobuki had gotten scared by texts on her phone around the same time.

My chest constricted sharply at my own idiocy and weakness in coasting through without noticing any of it.

The alternate story from Hatori's perspective went on.

Haraguchi slapped you? And said she hated you?

I'm sure she does.

That's because I told her you belong to me. I said, "We even did it. Do you mind my leftovers? He told me that you were into him even though you're all misshapen and you wouldn't leave him alone, and he laughed about you in front of me."

Haraguchi's face when I said that-oh, man. It turned bright red, there were tears in her eyes, and she was shaking; she was a total mess.

In middle school, out of nowhere a girl in my cla.s.s had slapped me and screamed, "I hate you!"

What had been inexplicable then was, like fallen leaves being swept away by a gust of wind to reveal the road beneath, now clear to me.

You don't go play with Mine much anymore, do you?

What happened? I thought you two were best friends?

But still he's so distant and selfish with you. What an awful person.

It's got to be because you broke so many promises to him. Oh well. After all, he did say I couldn't come.

How things had soured with a boy who was my friend.

How Miu had comforted me by saying, "You have me, though, Konoha, and that's enough, isn't it?"

That's how you came to be all alone.

You lost everyone around you except for me.

Ahhhhh, that felt so good. It was amazing.

When had she realized?

Giovanni losing his friends was Campanella's plan- You need to be even more alone.

You need to be cut to shreds, dragged through the mud, so you come apart in tatters.

You need to feel such despair that you lament and can't stand back up.