"You know me," Ikoma-san observes, his wire-like arms outstretched.

"Uh, yeah," I stammer. I tactfully decide not to bring up the fact that I had been advocating for his right to be referred by a real name instead of coma-san for ages before I realized I was mistaken.

"I know you too," Ikoma-san adds. When he speaks it sounds like he hadn't had anything to drink for a decade, which come to think of it is probably just the case. "You are Watanabe Tomomi."

I'm not sure how to describe the feeling I get when hearing my name being uttered by such a creature, but it isn't pleasant to say the least. Goosebumps spread out all over my upper arms.

"I know you," he continues to drawl in a slow, melancholy way. "They stored things here, you know, in this little town I call my home. So many, so many things. Many. Maaaaaany. They stored things about you. You are not normal. You are too normal. I don't know, you're not like the others. Maybe you're the normal one, and they are not normal. I don't know. I don't know." He buries his face underneath his spindly fingers.

"Er, okay," I say uncertainly.

"And I know you," he goes on, suddenly pointing at Daisuke. "You don't like mice. They're so cute though. Lookie lookie..." Ikoma-san pulls a tiny furball with an absurdly long tail out of his pocket. Daisuke hides behind Natsumi and groans.

"I know you, you, you..." Ikoma-san murmurs, nodding at everyone else in turn.

"Good, but do you know where to find Mr. Yamada's data box?" Anna asks. Of course—straight to the point.

"It looks like a pizza box," I add, trying to be helpful.

"Ah, box!" Ikoma-san rubs his palms together, like a fly does when it has nothing better to do. "Ah yes, yessss. Box. It's in that building."

He points at one of the taller skyscrapers behind us. It looks like it could fall apart any second, but at least it's a lead.

"21st  floor, end of the hall. Very nice room. Box. You'll find what you want there," he wipes at his eyes and his saggy skin sinks into his face, like his cheeks were part of the Mariana Trench.

I can hardly believe it's this easy. This is  his  mind—it's only natural that he'd know where to find everything. We have the best guide one could ever ask for, and as far as we can see he seems to not mind helping us.

It's perfect. So smooth. So simple.

"Don't listen to that freak," a man's voice speaks up, somewhere from above us, and we see a gruff-looking middle-aged fellow in sweats peeking out of a paneless window on the third floor of one of the buildings.  

He has Ikoma-san's face too, but this version is less saggy. He also has a swell beard, tattoos on his muscular forearms and a tendency to send spit flying when he talks.

Oops.

"You kids would do well not to follow his directions. He's insane, you see. Being trapped in this stupid place—it does that to you. See those lines on his face? Anyhow, the boxes you want aren't there. Where you really need to go is, unfortunately, downtown. Where the octopi are."

Huh. Knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"Octopi?" Daisuke queries incredulously. He likes asking questions.

"That's what we call those eight-legged freaks that live there. They love sliding about on buildings and twisting their tentacles around whatever they can find." Ikoma-number-two (that's what I've decided to call him from now on) says, one eyebrow raised.

"We?" Daisuke asks.

"Yeah, we," a third voice speaks, and from directly behind us appears another Ikoma-faced person. He looks significantly younger, wears his hair stylishly in waves and is wearing a pointlessly prickly suit.

Like, there are sharp things sticking out all over his outfit, making him look like a dashing sea urchin.

"There are three of you?" Daisuke exclaims.

"More actually," Number three says conversationally. He seems to be the friendliest so far. "And I wouldn't say going downtown is a good idea. You should come with me, to the graveyards. The boxes are buried there."

"Don't listen to that smooth-talking arsehole," Number two yells from his window. "Everything he says is a lie."

"Is it really?" Number three fake-gasps, putting one hand over his heart. "And here I am thinking I'm being completely sincere!"

The two begin to bicker, while the first one, the long and slender one, weeps silently in his corner.

"Okay," Natsumi mutters. "Look what we've gotten ourselves into. Like which one do we listen to even?"

"I like slenderman the best," Ririka reports. "He's so nice and sad."

"The one in the building seems the most sensible," Anna says. She's sensible herself, so it makes sense that she would also like sensible people.

"He's rude though," Ririka says with a shudder.

"No one wants to go with prickly dude?" Daisuke asks in surprise. "His hair is, like, slick."

"And that makes us want to follow him to a graveyard because?" Natsumi retorts.

"I don't think we should listen to any of them," Izumi comments. "Who knows they can even be trusted? I say we do it the way we wanted—get the electricity running, then treat it like a mock mission."

"He's so sad though," Ririka says, gesturing at Ikoma-san number one, who is still sobbing on the ground, sounding as heartbroken as could be.

"Well then, you could follow his directions all you want—I'm not buying that," Izumi says with a frown.

"In fact splitting up doesn't sound like a bad idea," Natsumi agrees. "Izumi can go to the power plant like she wants to, Riri can do as slenderman here said, Anna can go downtown into octopi land, and Daisuke can follow Mr. prickly dude to the graveyard. The rest of us pick whatever."

"Sounds like a go," Daisuke agrees happily. He agrees with everything Natsumi says.

"The rest of us" consists of Natsumi, Yukiya and me. Yukiya, of course, immediately opts to go with Ririka into the crumbling nearby building, as Slenderman Ikoma has suggested. Natsumi, despite her aforementioned dislike of graveyards, decides to go with Daisuke. They hang out together a lot and are partners for everything, after all, even if Natsumi finds Daisuke annoying about half the time. I remember watching them play doubles tennis with some upperclassmen, and they actually go very well together, complementing each other's weak points.

That leaves me. I'm not too thrilled with the idea of leaving Anna to tackle eight-legged monsters in the dark and dismal downtown all by herself, but there's no way I'd discard this chance to finally talk to Izumi alone. No way.

"The powerpoint sounds like a good idea," I say meekly.

"Power plant, you mean." Natsumi laughs, and I cover my face in embarrassment. My uncertainty as to whether Izumi is still willing to be friends is making me very nervous. But she has been acting more normal this past hour—surely this indicates that she's not angry anymore, right?

Izumi turns to me and says with a shrug, "Okay, we go to the powerpoint together."

"It's a power plant, not powerpoint! Jeez!" Natsumi moans.

Perhaps Izumi is as nervous as I am, I realize. My heart flutters with a strange kind of anticipation. Me, useless Tomomi, is capable of making calm and stable Izumi nervous. I feel so... accomplished, and I have no idea why. Friendship is a strange thing.

Izumi sighs and rubs the back of her neck. She really is nervous. "Ugh. Power plant, yeah. Riri, mind dropping us off at the powerpoint—power plant—before you come back here to raid your building?"

"I need a ride too, getting to downtown on my own would take hours," Anna puts in.

"Sure," Ririka chirps, spreading out what looks like a Burberry shawl. "Hop on."

We hop on, Ririka proudly at the front, Anna joining her in the left corner. Natsumi grabs my hand before I clamber on.

"Good luck," she whispers with a wink.

I smile wanly, knowing that she doesn't mean good luck in reigniting the power plant and bringing the city back to life. She means good luck with apologizing to Izumi.

And I really do need luck, I think to myself, because it has dawned on me that attempting to fix a power plant infested by slimy, long legged monsters isn't quite as hard as making up with your best friend.

Nothing is quite as hard as that.