Liar Mii-kun and Broken Maa-chan

Nagase Tōru was at my side.

It was the second semester of the first year of high school, the time for us to swap seats.1

“Let’s get along, XXXX.”

At that time, Nagase still added the “-ssu” at the end of her words.2

The mocking, laughing way she called my name strangely made my frontal lobe lit up, fuel added to the fire. 

“Same here, Tōru-kun.”

It seems we shared the hatred for our own names.

Nagase’s response hit me with a very obvious and bone-chilling feeling of disgust.

That was the start of our tasteless, odorless relationship that turned into a dangerous one.

Nagase insisted to the homeroom teacher that it was because of her eyesight, and he traded places with the guy in the front row to get away from me.

During class, I did my best to keep the back of Nagase’s head out of sight when looking at the writing on the blackboard. 

In that case, though I couldn’t define the emotions underneath it, it was Nagase’s fault for being so sarcastic first. But whoever was at fault, I could always apologize.

I had no positive reason to return my relationship with Nagase to that of the classmates in the corner of my vision, so I didn’t take action.

But around the end of September, our relationship took another turn.

The male member of the cleanup committee for the second semester was decided to be me (as was the case last semester), but the female member was decided to be Nagase.

We both got sick of trying not to ruin our mutual disregard.

If only Misono Mayupossessed a body and mind that could live with a normal, healthy amount of sleep.

I would probably face a fate of being barred from having contact or talking with anyone but her.

Mii-kun would live only ever facing Maa-chan.

There was no room for truth; this is the best happiness that she and I could achieve.

My training is yet to reach that level. I would not want to even if I could.

The woman I, at such a delicate age, was visiting before dinner behind her back was Nagase Itsuki.

I was at the east ward at the hospital, while Itsuki was at the opposite side – the west ward.

To get there, I would need to go through four corridors and go up and down the stairs twice. As I moved on one leg, I was reminded of how nice it was for me to walk on my normal two legs. Well, still an improvement from a week ago. When I was just starting to get the hang of the crutches for the three first days I ended up writhing in sorry agony. I’m much more used to it now, and I don’t ruin my balance that much. I did get blisters on my hands, though.

Also, I passed one police officer on the way. He was the person busying himself with the disappearance case, the one that became the topic of rumors in the hospital when there was nothing else to talk about. Actually, Natsuki-san would come there too, but for now she was in a private room, acting as a backup by Mayu’s side as she slept. Leaving Mayu alone was currently highly undesirable. Because of the injury and all that. Therefore when I requested assistance, she readily took over. Even if Mayu were to wake up, Natsuki-san would probably somehow manage to get through it. If push comes to shove, she would call her “Maa-chan” to smooth it over. 

After scaling the second flight of stairs in the west ward, or in other words the women’s wing, there were toilets to my left and patient rooms on the right. Since I had no plans to venture on a great toilet adventure, I turned right without any amusement.

It was the first time I visited Itsuki’s hospital room. When I opened the door of the room, I found that, of course, it was filled with only women, three of the four beds occupied. I took a couple of steps toward the center of the room, nodding to the old lady watching TV on the bed in front of me. Then Itsuki, who was looking out the window from her bed in the back of the room with a broken left arm, turned around and noticed me. As soon as I raised my hand with a “Yo,” Itsuki got off the bed and trotted up to me without putting on slippers. She had the same thoughtless, unmarred face with no edge to it as always. She looked more like a four year old than a fourth grader. She resembled Mayu somehow. 

“Oh, isn’t it Tōru?”

Her movements were agile, but her speech was unclear and sluggish.…Huh?

Usually as a substitute for a proper greeting, one could go all out and give a light punch, and she was the kind of girl who would usually use mild violence to hide her feelings of embarrassment. Today, she only bounced her body up and down, without putting out her hands. Well, alright, it’s not like I had a hobby of being bodied. 

“Are there any copies of Tōru, you think?”

“It’s easy if you ask a photographer.”

It’s easier for me to replicate than Parman or Son Goku.

“Ah, where is nee-chan?”

“We are not together.”

“Wow, you’ve come to see me all by yourself. But you’re late. It’s already been three weeks since you said you were coming too.”

“I couldn’t move three weeks ago, could I?”

“Oh? Then you just became able to move?”

“No, that was a week ago.”

“Tōru, you are so lazy.”

“She’s very closely watched. But without seeing your face, finding happiness in my life gets a lot tougher” – Of course I would not express sweet and fishy words such as this, sure to be taken as a madman spouting risky lines to an elementary school kid. 

“High school students have a lot on their plates.”

Shoplifting, looking for pornographic books in the woods, kidnapping elementary school kids (just to name a few).

“Oh, really? But nee-chan always says she has time. I play soccer, softball and go to the dojo, so I’m busier than nee-chan!”

Itsuki imitated her sister’s manner of speech, surrounding herself with the easygoing air. I personally evaluated that with her character she was not suited for competitive sports such as ball games and martial arts. But the lessons were likely to continue. 

Even so, she was probably not only busier than her nee-chan, but also me. My days off are… Well, I don’t need to reflect on that, do I?

It’s a modest holiday to the degree that you could record it on video and, looking at it objectively later, feel so much shame that you might blow a nosebleed out of your face if you remember it. 

Following the figure of Itsuki’s back, I was led to the bed. Itsuki, in a good mood, was humming a tune one beat behind.

For some reason, it seems like she’s taken a liking to this one quite a bit.

I didn’t have anyone to play with, so I may just have been restlessly floating on the arrival of boredom.

Itsuki settled down into the bed like before. I borrowed a chair on the side and sat with the window behind me, propping my crutches against the wall. With the sunlight at my back and the indoor heating, it was somewhat lukewarm still.

“Ne, Tōru.”

It’s not “netoru,” as in adultery, and it’s not “netoru,” as in sleeping, but more like a “Hey, mo-X-on!” kind of call. Just to clarify with a footnote.

“Will I ever become a beauty?”

I didn’t shun her and tell her to ask a fortune teller or a con artist about such things.

“It depends on how high you set the bar. How beautiful are you aiming for?”

“Hmm… So pretty that I can buy everything at the store at five times the discount, that much.”

“Train your tongue before your face.”

“Eeh, then, so pretty that I get a bunch of loony stalkers.”

“You’d have to run to the police.”

“Ah, so careless of me.”

Itsuki, who freely used that peculiar and strange Japanese, looked good with a blank and relaxed expression on her face. She was the opposite of her older sister, with an appearance that corresponded more to a purity than to a beauty.

“So, why did you ask me that?”

“Um, to be honest, that was an inducement. I just wanted to see if you would call me a beauty.”

…I’ve never paid such compliments to your sister either.

“If you won’t tell me, then Tōru must like older girls. Okay, I’m going to take it fast, and then I’m going to catch up to you, and then I’m going to be nee-chan’s nee-chan.”

Somehow, the diary in my head reported that a similar desire was expressed somewhere, some time ago.

“…Seems fun.”

“Yeah. Tōru is fun.”

She said, showing her nice rows of teeth, baby teeth completely replaced. 

When we were together Itsuki would be soothed, Mayu would be healed, Natsuki-san would be exhausted.

“Nee-chan said she loves meeting Tōru too.”

“…Is that so?”

Nagase would be tired. At least for now.

“So, I wanna ask you something.”

“Please wait a little longer for me to pay the monthly fee.”

“Don’t act like I’m a delinquent.” 

…Well, let’s leave it at that. Before eating too many snacks on the way, let’s get started with the main course.

“So, you know about that girl that disappeared from her room a few days ago?”

Itsuki’s face darkened a bit at my question.

“Yeah. Some fresh middle schooler.”

According to Mayu’s story, her expiration date has already passed, but that would be an inappropriate joke.

“Ooh. A beauty?”

“Ah, so you’re calling others a beauty so easily. I knew it, Tōru likes older girls after all!”

Itsuki cheerfully made a crazy observation. As a citizen, I was concerned about the future of my town.

Itsuki casted a glance to the neighboring bed, made up and with no signs of use. There were crutches placed beside the bed. My fellow, it seemed. That said, I wasn’t in such a hurry to die and follow her into the other world, though. 

“That’s where we were hospitalized together,” Itsuki muttered, weary. I suddenly thought that hospitalization, when put in the past tense, was both good and bad.

“Do you know when she disappeared?”

“Six days ago, at night, when the lights went out, she was still there. But she wasn’t there when I woke up in the morning.”

Itsuki replied smoothly (though still sluggish), as if she was used to answering that. The police must have already questioned her. 

“Tōru, playing detective?”

“Well, something like that. A bit of a serious detective play.”

“Hoho. Tōru must be a very good adult to be playing make-believe so seriously.”

Itsuki’s face turned triumphant. She put on a facade of composure, mouth like a cat’s, but her eyes wandered around like a lost child’s. Like Nagase said, she could be afraid of the matter and not want to touch it. 

“Then, Tōru-kun, be careful and do your best in moderation.”

Jokingly, with the true intention hard to seize.

“I’ll do my best to do my best.”

As for the perpetrators, there wasn’t even a rough idea.

I visited the site to see if it would be of any help, but there didn’t seem to be any special information to be gathered here.

What could that be about?

“That beautiful middle schooler next to you, did someone confess to her and she turned them down harshly, or was she a member of some club and stuff and had some cringy fans or stalkers after her or had she simply the worst personality that ended up bringing in deep grudges and resentment?”  

“….hehe.”

It was probably too long of a sentence, with Itsuki rewinding the CD of memories and playing it in her brain. Her eyeballs were also busy, moving around as in rooting for the brain, then occasionally coming to a halt. Eventually, the rolling stopped completely. 

“We didn’t get on well, hmm, not well, not. Don’t know, umm, maybe?”

In short, she didn’t know.

While Itsuki tried to string words together in confusion, I used my finger to hold down her hair whorl, using it like a pause button. Itsuki groaned “ugh” and stiffened her body, living up to my expectations.

“How long do you think it’ll take your arm to heal?”

“About two weeks. If I really, try, maybe fourteen days.”

Well, she knows her place. This girl was the type to not even give a thought to a fighting spirit.  

“And if I scream ‘ke!’, then the fourteen would quickly turn into, um, fourteen times… three hundred and thirty-six hours. And with more willpower, three hundred and thirty-six… would become another big number.”

“Stop.”

“Ah.”

The person in question was not able to control the situation, so they commenced termination by force. Pressing the whorls and bullying them with fingertips. Itsuki tried to escape by shaking her hair, but she didn’t take it seriously and there were no results. 

Itsuki seemed to have calmed down, so I put not only my fingertips, but stroked her head with a whole palm placed there, softly, as if tickling. 

“Itsuki.”

Unexpectedly, a serious voice came out.

“Is, is this a confession?”

A misinterpretation in the wrong direction. I wonder if there is anyone who would be dyed in the color of joy if someone told them that they loved them while stroking their head. Ah, maybe Mayu.

Be that as it may, I asked Itsuki a simple question.

“Is it scary?”

The gentle roundness of Itsuki’s cheeks subtly distorted, and the shadows encroached on the surface. 

“Scary.”

Itsuki agreed honestly.

“Because when someone disappears, um, it’s very, very, en, because, I could become like that too, and…”

Mix of gestures and discharge of incoherent sentences.

Well, I get what she wants to say.

“So I’d be very very happy if detective Tōru catches the culprit quickly.”

“Mhm. Leave it to me.”

With a final stroke to the top of Itsuki’s head, a request that would be difficult to fulfill.

“Then, when nee-chan comes to visit, say hello to her from me, politely.”

“Huh?”

When did your sister get hypertension?

I took my all too familiar crutches and separated the chair from my behind. Adding a playful touch, such as maintaining a consistent speed when placing crutches on the floor. Otherwise, I might suggest moving in here instead of returning all that distance to my hospital room.

“Hey, Tōru.”

As for that, well, you get the idea. I turn without changing my body’s orientation as much as possible.

“Tōru, you are now seeing someone other than nee-chan, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Then, if that person dumps you, I’ll go out with you. Dibs.”

…A mature ten-year-old. I’m probably a guy who is, surprisingly, liked by younger girls (too young, though). Plus, I get approached by elderly people all the time… I’m missing an important middle class. 

“Sure.”

If I get dumped, huh.

If that happens, I’ll probably get killed by Mayu. 

That being said, I felt honestly flattered. Enough to think it’d be fun to come again.

On the way back to the hospital room that I got used to lodging in so much I started calling it mine, I bumped into Watarai-san.

From the fact that we ran into each other in the central building, he probably had some business in the west ward. Watarai-san, plunged into some exhaustion, noticed me and smiled broadly, then closed the distance with a troubled gait. He has been unwell since this morning, but he seemed to have recovered enough to walk with his own two feet on the ground.

“Oh, what’s that?”

In a voice as smooth as the surface of skin without wrinkles, he inquired about my movements.

“I went out to visit.”

“Someone got injured?”

“Just taking the opportunity to visit.”

“I see, I see,” Watarai-san nodded appropriately. I’ve recently become very good at talking my way out of a conversation, probably because I was only joking in response when in the hospital.

“Watarai-san, you too have something to do?”

I asked back as duty required for politeness sake. Watarai-san took a grand pause, or rather, reluctantly and slowly tilted his chin.

“I’m going to see my wife.”

“Oh, a husband and wife were both hospitalized together.”

“We’ve been getting along so well, and both of us are feeling the effects of aging. I feel like I might die soon, so I thought it wouldn’t be lonely if she came along with me.”

Watarai-san said it jokingly, but as for me, it was hard to respond to that, which was a pain. 

“What’s wrong, Watarai-san?”

At the beginning of his hospitalization, there was an attempt to split his one rib into two, but his condition seemed to have worsened from the perspective of his internal organs. 

“A small thing. When you’re an old man, even a little thing can kill you.”

The old man, speaking with a subtle accent, covered up the specifics. I shan’t allude that I’ve ever wanted to know the details of someone else’s condition, at least not when it comes to men. 

Whether it was due to the state of his health or not, Watarai-san appeared to have aged considerably in my eyes compared to a week ago. It’s as if he fast-forwarded from around sixty to sixty-five years old.

“Well, when you’re young, it’s better to look after your heart than the body.”

I feel like it’s already too late.

The advice of our predecessors, clouded by ambiguity.

“Right, right. You have a guest at your place.”

“…Who could that be?”

“A high-school lass from the other day.”

Was it Nagase? …Probably Nagase. 

“She said she would wait for you to return.”

“Understood. Thank you for relaying the message.”

“Yes, yes,” Watarai-san sloppily shook his head and walked away. The figure of his walking back oozed an unreliability that fired up my meddlesomeness and made me feel that it’d be better if he just used crutches. 

“…Nagase, huh.”

I rested against the corridor wall, putting my back in its care. The white wall was kind of cold and uncomfortable. Still, I wanted to keep my body steady when contemplating things, so I had no other choice.

The deserted corridor had only the feeble sound of the television leaking from the hospital room and echoing through it. 

Here were the three-choice question. 

The top priority would be arriving safely at one’s own sleeping place.

Setting aside sleep talk about unlimited options and possibilities for humans, one should mark the answer with a 〇 mark.

One, pretending I haven’t heard anything, I go to Mayu’s hospital room and leave Natsuki alone.

Two, I go to Nagase’s place first, ask her to leave as soon as possible and then go to Mayu.

Three, I run away.

“…Difficult.”

If it were to be forgiven, choosing option three would be interesting. However, I was not in a position to seek forgiveness from anyone, nor was I in a position where I needed someone’s permission to take action. Mayu would probably not forgive me, but my goal was to “prevent her from taking action” in an environment in which “taking action” did not require the consent of others. To put it favorably, I could say I was independent, but in plain terms, I could also say I was selfish.

But there were no means with which to escape. Therefore, unwillingly, number three was rejected.

From the pragmatic point of view, there was no choice but to meet with Nagase.

“…This is bad.”

Since I was guarding the danger known as Mayu, I didn’t especially want to come and meet Nagase.

It’s not that I hate Nagase.

She was lost to me, but there was a possibility I’d want to drink her miso soup again if we intermingled. 

But also, I didn’t want that. 

All I wanted was for Nagase to keep her distance from me so that she wouldn’t get hurt.

Would I have to beg earnestly on my knees (impossible with my current legs) for her not to come? 

“Ah, it’s hard to even think about it. What’s this, lovesickness?”

It was definitely different from the norm, but there was probably still some resemblance. It might even be more correct to look at this from the “sickness” part. 

Never thought I would have to look in retrospect at the bitterness of youthful indiscretion before becoming an adult. 

Well, thinking about it any more won’t make things any better, so let’s go.

Go downstairs to meet Nagase. 

Hating my right leg for taking a holiday, I resumed moving down the corridor.

…One heeding my call.

Amidst everything, there was one thing that remained unaffected, clear, and distinct.

That is, unshaken by all sounds, everything that appears before the eyes, and human relationships.

Even if I wasn’t “Mii-kun,”

I didn’t want to be the “Tōru” she wanted me to be.

“Really, who am I?”

Now, I have no choice but to laugh. The only way to get away with it is laughter.

Nagase was reading a manga.

She probably borrowed it on her own from someone’s cupboard. She sank deeply into the chair, stretching her legs on the bed, all relaxed, leisurely running her eyes over the pages.

The sound of my footsteps and timbre of crutches stomping the floor made her realize I was there and raise her head from the slump.

She was in her uniform today, too.

“Have you seen Ma-chan yet?”

“No, I was at your sister’s.”

“Ah,” Nagase said, cheeks flushing. She closed the book. “So you went to see her?”

“Yeah. And she promised to be my girlfriend if I became single.”

“Ah, she’s that serious, then.”

Nagase put her feet down on the floor and stood up in her slippers.

She drew near to my chest and looked up at me with a gentle, relaxed expression.

“Tōru is very popular, I see.”

“…Strictly speaking, I don’t think that’s true. What did you even like about me?”

When I casually asked that question, Nagase indistinctly said “Hmm,” then put her hand on her cheek. I took a step back in the meantime to keep an appropriate distance.

“You’re a guy that would ask such a shameless thing with a straight face, huh.”

Without mentioning my reaction, Nagase lightly criticized me.

“…? Didn’t you go out with me because you liked some parts?”

Nagase jokingly cried out an agonized “gya”. She swayed from right to left, losing her center of gravity, as if about to fall to her knees. What’s with her, she’s so funny. Many people around me have somewhat twisted personalities, often under the guise of individuality, (especially I noticed that trend amongst women), but in this conversation I could take the lead, which was quite comfortable. Very different from a certain policewoman.

“Corporal punishment, corporal punishment!”

Nagase covered her own mouth and nose with her left hand, and with the right intermittently slapped my forearm. Since I was not sitting, it didn’t hurt that much. 

“Oh, are you embarrassed?”

“Don’t kick me while I’m down!”

The slaps went from duple meter to quadruple. It didn’t hurt, but it did itch because of the clothes chafing. 

Nagase staggered forward in a drunken, restless tone towards a chair, and then collapsed onto it and sat down. At once, I flopped onto the bed, raising only my upper half. Nagase’s face was within arm’s reach. Recognising this, somehow, spontaneously, my right hand reached out.

When I put the palm on Nagase’s cheek, I felt so much warmth gathered there that I suspected she might be feverish.

Nagase’s moist eyeballs wandered around in confusion, but she quickly smiled shyly and placed her hand over mine. 

“Feels nice and cool.”

“It’s stealing warmth from the heart.”

“Ahaha,” Nagase laughed, seemingly unconcerned.

“That is what I like about you.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“It’s a part I can’t put into words.”

“…Body temperature?”

“You… It’s different from kindness, just being together itself brings about a tremendous sense of security… I guess I still can’t put it into words.”

Nagase didn’t seem to be displeased even a bit at not being able to come up with an answer.

Nagase’s hand, as it caressed the back of mine with tenderness, felt like it had an excess of warmth coursing through it. It was a sharp, intense heat, more akin to a wildfire than a fireplace.

“…”

The mist lifted from my eyes and I came to my senses.

…Carelessly, I let the good mood fester. 

I removed Nagase’s hand in a rush and pulled my right hand back. 

“Sorry, no indecent touching in public.”

Really, the glare of a high school boy in the same room in my line of sight was a clear complaint about it. 

“Your Japanese is as not relevant as ever.”

Natsuki’s mood hasn’t sunk a bit. Rather, she seemed joyful.

She had the laugh of a bully.

“What.”

“So you’re still conscious of me.”

Did it look like I wasn’t?

“That is, huh.”

“That is that. Yeah, I’m glad.”

Nagase seemed delighted. I was the exact opposite. 

Nagase straightened the disorderly collar and skirt of her uniform. Meanwhile, I was thinking back to Nagase’s shoulders. They were hidden now (of course), but the area between her shoulders and upper arms was beautiful. I was impressed when I first saw them, not because of the absence of blemishes or how they felt or anything like that, but by their ideal shapes and outlines.

She would have sulked if I only praised that part, though. The mind of a girl is a fickle, complicated thing.

Now, to return from the digression.

I had something to confirm with Nagase.

“By the way, why do you call Mayu Maa-chan?”

“Well, uh, why, I’ve been calling her that for a long time.”

Nagase replied with a slight stutter. I stiffened at her words for a while.

“…A long time. I see. So that’s that.”

I got the point. I guess I was mistaken.

There was a past before I met Mayu, wasn’t there? I forgot about it.

“Were you friends at primary school?”

“At nursery school. By the way, she called me Nagase-san then.”

…Ah, so that’s how it was.

…Heh. Hoho. Wow.

“I corrected it when I started calling you ‘Tōru-chan.’”

“Hmm.”

…Ah, whatever, it’s alright for now. I’ll talk about it later.

Nagase probably sensed the half-heartedness of my reply, because she raised her hand and changed the topic.

“I have something to ask you too.”

I urged her to continue with my gaze.

“I heard that at school – why is Tōru called Mii-kun?”

“If you take just that one sentence out, it doesn’t make any sense. It’s like, who am I?”

“Don’t make fun of it. It’s a bad habit of yours.”

She glared at me. This time, it was an angry look, as if a serious, hardened corporal punishment was just about to be administered.

I met her gaze and held it.

Well, one might be tempted to ask.

Since Mayu already knows, then Sugawara knows, too.

But.

“To explain it, I would have to bring into the light how complicated and mysterious Mayu’s mind is at the moment. But I don’t want to do that. Therefore, I reject the question on the matter.”

Nagase’s anger swelled at my refusal. It wasn’t a swelling like that of cotton candy, but that of an uninspired swelling of a tongue-twister basu gasu bakuhatsu.

“Just so you know, I’ve known Ma-chan longer than you, Tōru. So that attitude like I’m an outsider who doesn’t need to know doesn’t sit right with me.”

“If you two get along so well, you can understand why I don’t want to answer your question.”

 I could see the exact moment in which Nagase’s blood came to a boil. Quickly, she grabbed a pillow that was the closest, held it in both hands and slammed it down on me. The pillow was hard and a suitable pain registered with me as a result. Tinnitus set in. 

“…Good thing the fruit knife wasn’t at your side.”

Perhaps exhausted by my reaction, Nagase lost the anger in her shoulders. She casually tossed the pillow aside and cast me a pleading look. I tried to cut off that connection by closing my eyelids, but before my mouth shut, I found myself responding.

“It means I’m tricking her.”

I am proud to say that it was a concise and extremely accurate sentence.

“You mean you’re pretending to be Sugawara-kun?”

“No, only Mii-kun. I won’t say anything more.”

Please stop this conversation, I thought to myself looking at the back of my eyelids. Perhaps my wish was granted, but I didn’t hear a word from Nagase. I indulged myself in meditation for a few minutes.

After I lifted my eyelids, Nagase was staring at me with a meek expression. The pillow was returned to its rightful place. Not by my telekinetic powers. 

“Do you love Maa-chan?”

Nagase threw out a question that has subtly dragged along from the start.

“I love her enough to share an apple together in public.”

Nagase’s eyes fell down again. It’s your fault for asking something difficult to answer seriously.

“What do you like about her?”

“Face.”

“…”

Nagase drew back a little.

“When I see her face, I am happy, healed, all those good things.”

I added some more. Nagase reacted with a somewhat implicatory “Hmm” leaking out.

“So you are cheating, but you do love me, right?”

“Don’t get involved. What does it mean for you if I confirm or not?”

“Is it wrong for me to be worried about Maa-chan? Even though we were close, if Tōru is involved, it makes me even more curious.”

“Hmm.”

It was, right? 

“And now?”

“What?”

“Your relation with Mayu, I mean.”

“That’s, you see…”

My question seems to have hit a nerve with Nagase. Nagase fell silent, her expression replaced by a heartbroken one. When I saw her, I vowed to the gardener of my heart to cut off my maliciousness. But that’s a lie.  

“So, I’m talking about a route with no connection to what has happened before.”

I called out to the low-spirited Nagase. She brushed her hair from her forehead and said “What?” in a sinking voice. At the same time, the doors to the hospital room opened and the sluggish Watarai-san made his return. With slow and empty movements, as if his consciousness was being eclipsed by drowsiness, he crawled under the covers, let out a few groans, and then ceased to move. After Nagase and I finished watching, our gazes met again, like throwing baseballs at each other. As usual, I broke a curveball.  

“Nagase is a kind of person who does good at school, huh?”

Nagase displayed a full range of surprise, opening and closing her eyelids, taken aback. 

“It doesn’t seem to be related at all?”

“I have heard a rumor that I am the kind of man who makes good on his promise.”

In truth, I had a bad reputation as an eccentric who says one thing and does the other. 

Nagase crossed her arms and looked to the side in thought.

“Well, I don’t really care about what kind of person I am.”

“Leaving aside the smug look as if you said something clever, you must still have notes, right? Let me make a copy.”

In response to my request, Nagase blinked faster for a different reason. Curiosity-based surprise danced on Nagase’s eyelids, like when watching a magic trick.

“I didn’t realize you were a nerd. You didn’t even take the finals.”

“My nickname in class is ‘Nose Glasses Boy.’”3

The people who are looking after me aren’t my parents, so I have to take my studies seriously. 

Since I started living with Mayu, I felt guilty because I’ve been sabotaging myself somewhat.

It would be ideal to borrow notes from someone in my class, but I didn’t have any who would come to visit. I had to rely on Nagase.

“Sure.” Nagase grabbed a school bag lying on top of a cupboard. She undid the clasp and took out several large notebooks from inside. I solemnly accepted them. 

“I don’t accept complaints about my handwriting being messy.”

“I won’t allow myself such luxury. Mine is too. Thank you.”

While thanking her, I took one on the top from the stack of notes and opened it. 

…? …? ☆☆★※☆dried?

My own made-up space jargon just slipped out fluently. If anything, it was more like it was dragged out of me. That’s how shocking the heaps of corpses of letters were. I couldn’t distinguish between romaji and Japanese. Might as well give up on English. Giving in, I checked the cover and could barely read that it was proclaimed in very thick marker as Japanese history. What? So all this was only Japanese?

…What to do. I couldn’t stop the sweat on my back and the nape of my neck.

“But the hospital has a photocopier, right?”

“No, I use one at a convenience store. I often go there when I go for a walk. I’ll print it out next time I go and leave it with Itsuki when I’m done.”

But what would be the point of copying this?

“You don’t need to leave it with Itsuki, it can be when I come to visit.”

Nagase said that with an attitude as a matter of course. 

I skimmed the surface of the notebook and tried to convey something I have forgotten until now to Nagase.

“Actually, Nagase-san-”

“Yes, yes, I get it, you don’t want me to come.”

Nagase’s sulky attitude was a bit too easy to understand.

“You know what I mean.”

“Given the current situation, there’s no way Tōru would approach it clumsily.”

I was seen through from beginning to end. I realized anything more I’d say would only sound like excuses, so I poured forth words to Nagase like a flood. Though that’s a lie.

I didn’t look up, casting my eyes down on the notes. 

When I focused, it got easier to decipher the kanji because of the grammar. But please don’t make it impossible to differentiate between “ろ” and “3”. Also, the penmanship was so thick you couldn’t tell “金” and “全” apart. 

…Hmm? What’s that?

I paused my casual flipping through and rested my hand to focus on what was drawn there.

Unintelligible. I wondered if I could print it so far, or would I be sued for copyright. 

Maybe asking the author would be the best road forward.

“Nagase, what’s that?”

“What?”

“Like a doodle of a pretty boy looking like a slug.”

I grabbed hold of the top of the notebook so that Nagase could see it easily and thrust it before her eyes.

“…Ahaha.”

Hm? Nagase was… oh, her lips were trembling. They leisurely went past the blue and turned purpler than sweet potato skins. And then,

“AAAAA!”

A scream that would have been a nuisance in a karaoke bar, let alone a hospital, burst out of Nagase’s throat.

“Get back!”

Screaming something that sounded like a Beatles song title, the note was snatched away (and probably misused). She then violently opened the pages and began to censor the contents. Her eyeballs were snapping in all directions at a speed that far surpassed that of a normal person, and as I watched, they became bloodshot. She’s so hot blooded, huh? I watched nonchalantly. 

Finally, Nagase fell out of the chair and her knees hit the floor. She curled her body around the notebook, protective, turned over her pencil box and equipped herself with a small eraser. She still didn’t seem to have any luck.

“Wait! I told you, wait!”

She became frantic, teary-eyed. That expression is not so bad, huh – if I told her that, my stay at the hospital would be extended by another three weeks, so I made an effort to obediently watch Nagase.

Like a high school girl demonstrating how to clean with a cloth, she crawled on the floor, rubbing the scattered pages’ private places with an eraser with great force. Nagase’s skirt-covered bottom moved up and down with each violent up-and-down motion of her arms. It was not sexy, I felt, the high school boy in the same room excitedly watched the state of affairs with great appreciation. Watarai-san also roused from his sleep at Nagase’s scream and rolled over, turning his body towards us and looking at the high school girl with mixed astonishment. It’d probably be a pleasant memory to take to the afterlife.

Unaware of the salacious stares, Nagase continued to work with all her heart. Now, the second notebook was just about to be finished. I’ve consistently been a source of various kinds of trouble for Nagase, so I vowed to maintain an even more considerate attitude towards her. Though that’s a lie.

A few moments later, the deletion was completed. After collecting the contents of the pencil box, Nagase went back to her chair, wiped the sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief and breathed heavily. 

“Evil has been destroyed.”

The note was probably destroyed, too. She was like a champion of justice going on a rampage in a city center. 

I once again accepted the notebook, now more likely to be recycled than copied, and crammed it back into the cupboard. As a side note, the manga I borrowed (or was given, I wonder which it was) from Koubi-sensei was bulky, and I was having a tough time finding storage for them. I’ve borrowed half of Mayu’s private room shelf without permission and gotten away with it.

“Well, I’ll get going, then.”

Holding her bag close to her chest, Nagase decided to leave, urged by her shyness.

“It’s too embarrassing, so I won’t come here anymore.”

“Shame.” I felt the exact opposite in my heart.

Nagase with her natural clumsiness and uneasy hurry, repeatedly folded the chair while resting it on her knees. She threw the chair haphazardly, almost like tossing a bag into a trash bin, against the wall and looked down at me.

“…Ah, be safe on your way back.”

I guessed she was waiting for my goodbye, so I said that with a wave of my hand.

Nagase remained silent, not relaxing the muscles on her face. 

“Bye-bye. Farewell, teacher, farewell, everybody. Take care. Arrivederci. It was a pleasure. Hello, world. Hello, my place of belonging.”

I made use of all the greetings I had learnt in my 18 years of age (but I had taken a year off from primary school, so I was still in the second year of high school4) to offer as a tribute to Nagase. Nagase, however, took it with utter indifference, heart unmoved. She didn’t even blink.

That’s trouble. If she wasn’t amazed or angry, there was no point in saying anything.

“What’s wrong?”

At the last resort, I dished out some seriousness. Specifically, I leaned forward slightly, put pressure on the edge of my mouth and drew back my chin.

Nagase wiped the sweat off her neck and raked her scalp with her index finger.

“I just don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Can I complain for a bit?”

Her dry gaze and tone of voice evaporated my sweat. I said “Okay,” urging her to continue.

In a frank tone, Nagase spinned the attack at me.

“Tōru, you are a coward for deceiving Maa-chan.” 

In the end, with a greeting I’ve never learned, Nagase left, light and carefree.

Without turning around to see us off, the door was closed on me, the high school boy and Watarai-san.

“You get a lot of visitors, huh.”

Watarai-san spoke with a sarcastic smile floating on his face. Come to think of it, I’ve never once borne witness to a scene of Watarai-san being visited in his hospital room. 

With him, I couldn’t just reply with something like “Ah, it’s so troublesome,” but also couldn’t say anything like “Yes, you’re right.” Watarai-sani coughed, spitting out saliva while saying, “I’m tired, I feel like I’m going to die,” and then merged with his futon. He was a person who sleept while burying himself up to the top of his head.

“Hey, which one is your favorite? Before the carnage comes to pass, wouldn’t it be better to hand that Mayu-chan to me?”

Not listening to the high school student, I looked out the window.

There were only bare trees, with no old men trying to make them bloom in sight. Or rather, the curtain of night has already begun to fall, so you couldn’t fully enjoy the abandoned winter landscape.

“…”

Ruminating on the string of letters Nagase left behind.

Deceiving Maa-chan. Huh.

Tōru is a coward. Heh. 

“…No, that’s not quite right.”

We should give a strong reprimand to the deterioration of the Japanese language among young people.

I request a correction.

Tōru is a coward,

and Mii-kun is a coward, too.

I felt that every time I met Nagase my energy reserves dwindled, but I couldn’t sleep now. 

I had to go to Mayu, who had been left in Natsuki-san’s care. 

Because of that, after ten minutes since Nagase left, I ended up leaving my nest of the bed. 

Out, corridor. Movement, hospital room. Quickly go, execute the cycle of Mayu.

Feeling like a creature made of pixel art, I moved through the corridor at my own pace, every step sapping out my energy. The corridor was lit by the dazzling shine of electric lights, fighting against the night. However, the body temperature of winter, which felt like it could result in chapped noses and cheeks, adapted to both light and darkness and lingered there. Still better than summer, though. 

Swallowing spit down my dry, hurting throat I went up the stairs. My ward was on the second floor, and Mayu’s private one was on the third, a place with a viewing platform taken into consideration. A long journey, painful on my hands. 

When Mayu was first admitted into the hospital, she suggested she and I share a room, a request based on her version of common sense. Unfortunately, in this local city hospital there was little demand for double rooms and no gender equality, so they didn’t exist. So Mayu asked for the private rooms for herself and I as a second choice. It wasn’t that bad of a deal for me, but I still tried to refuse with everything I could. 

I didn’t really expect Mayu to have common sense, and in fact, I very much welcomed those carefree aspects of her. I simply didn’t want to steadily progress towards becoming dependent on Mayu. It shouldn’t be a lie.

In the end, after being discharged from the hospital with Mayu, I’d settle matters by fulfilling one promise, putting it into a neat cylinder. Thinking that way, I realized that I couldn’t instantly use the formula for a cylinder as knowledge. Maybe my head was starting to wear out. I could only recite pi to four decimal places. In such a way, with my own head piece seemingly earning the somewhat dimwitted title of having lost wit and intelligence, while feeling a slight sense of concern, something brushed against my cheek.

“%((&#$#&%&)~((&))&)()(~(~!” 

Before I even got goosebumps, I let out a scream that was about five hundred times more grotesque than “Ciao Solera,” and I lost my balance. I let go of my crutches and clumsily fell down, painfully knocking my right side of the body against the wall.

“Oh, you surprised me!”

Don’t steal my lines and just slightly alter them!

As if trying to squash the infestation of goosebumps, I was grabbed by the upper arm and pulled up. It was a nurse in her late twenties, strict about being picky about food and leftovers. Wavering, reptilian-like movements of her tongue creeped about against the meat of her cheek. 

She picked up the crutches from the floor and slipped them into my hands. She then brushed my shoulders three times and gave me a business-like smile. 

“Do you need anything else?”

“Paw at your own head, please.”

The nurse grinned widely and said, “You’re fine”, paying no more attention to what I said than she did to her daily breathing. She was probably planning to reply like that no matter what I said.

“…What are you even doing?”

“Supper’s ready,” the nurse conveyed the message while touching me, her mothering going at full throttle.

“…Yeah, it’s pointless to speak.”

In this world there are two kinds of people: those who can speak Japanese and those who cannot. 

But this person was an exception, a smart one able to speak Japanese fluently but who had no listening comprehension. 

“Sorry, sorry, I thought you’d scream at best. Is your leg okay?”

“Yeah, probably.”

It was strange that my left ankle wasn’t sprained considering the way I fell, but thankfully, aside from being harassed by a nurse, there were no areas where my pain receptors are active.

The nurse bumped her forehead and stuck out her tongue mischievously. “Ehe.”

“The way you laugh, it seems wrong, but somehow it suits you all too well.”

“Ah, wrong? It must be hard to be a young man. Then, ahe.”

“It suits you even better.”

Maybe I was hallucinating, but this person seemed like a friend. 

I wondered what kind of messed up education the generation above us, like sensei and Natsuki-san, have received in this town. Did they start a plan at bringing up storytellers but failed halfway through?

This nurse was dressed in proper nurse clothes, not a cosplay, but she didn’t wear a hat. She waited for other nurses or doctors to appear before putting it on. It’s just like a high school student making an effort to avoid a teacher’s dress code check.

Now, she was wearing her hat slightly askew, like a wig. It was because a doctor was walking up the stairs, and she was watching him. She confirmed that he had passed by before crumpling her hat and shoving it into her pocket, and then the nurse ran her fingers through her hair. It seemed her fixation on that hairstyle is the reason she disliked wearing the hat. I was not well-versed in hairstyles, so I couldn’t formally describe the nouns woven by her hair. Therefore, I’ve named it the “nurse cut.” It’s like a techno cut.5

“By the way, I know a thousand of your secrets.”

Not that many.

The nurse’s index finger rotated clockwise in front of my eyes. I decided to counter.

“I know your secrets and mysteries too.”

It’s true… So shady.

I tried to counter with my index finger going counter clockwise. Someone, please give me a hangover remedy.

“This afternoon, Itsuki called dibs on you, right? I watched the whole story unfold, with your gallant figure like Hikaru Genji.6 So you’re keeping your options open, or choosing another opponent?”

“Itsuki? …Ah.”

When a name of an acquaintance came up from someone who didn’t seem to have any connection, my index finger momentarily paused. But even with an unlicensed aura surrounding her work attitude, she was still at least a nurse, so it wasn’t weird she remembered a patient’s name. 

“Did you watch the whole thing while slacking off?”

“Nah, I just accidentally found myself looking through the window.”

Itsuki’s room was on the third floor.

“Is it your professional duty to behave like an alien?”

“So rude. I don’t want to hear mockery from a guy who wrote on a Tanabata card ‘I wish for colorful chicks7 to taste better.’”

“Don’t make things up. Seriously.”

“Ah, and about that Itsuki.”

Crushed. Are the residents of this town, one and all, expected to be self-centered as part of common etiquette? 

“Isn’t Itsuki a disciple of the dojo my old man runs? Well, to put it simply, she’s like my student.”

Besides the crushing, I felt as if the hierarchy was being somehow abridged.

The circular motion of the finger stopped.

“What kind of relationship do you have with Itsuki?”

“Something like you and me,” or in other words, a distant connection.

“Hmm. You know, Itsuki is a bit of a scaredy cat, and since Nawa disappeared, she doesn’t like to sleep in the dark at night. Won’t you sleep with her?”

“Nawa?” I let the proposal slide.

“The girl who went missing. Nawa Mitsuaki.”

“Huh.”

 “I wonder where she is now and what she’s up to. Honestly, she hasn’t even healed properly.”

She sniffed in frustration, and for the first time her slack expression tightened. Seeing her like this, I reconsidered my stance on her.

“What’s your opinion on this case, Miss nurse?”

I asked, feeling like a reporter. 

“Maybe I feel like I got caught up in the accident.”

The nurse put the hat on her hair again. Then she propped her chin with her hand, her eyes getting a faraway look.

“For example, a murder.”

“…”

Her eyes returned to the present, her hands loosely hanging down. 

“My alibi will be confirmed by the rest of the nurses, won’t it?”

“Please don’t suddenly start a detective adventure.”

I couldn’t speak for others, but my evaluation has fallen back to its original state. 

“Most importantly, I have no motive.”

“Why does no one ever listen to me?”

“I have no hope of becoming a head nurse.”

“That’s an unfair evaluation – it’s surprising you haven’t been fired.”

“What-!”

I broke the state of being a dweller of a pixel game looking straight into the camera by myself. The wall received the nurse’s fist and emitted briefly a dull scream – it had served as an outlet for her anger. Good thing she wasn’t playing the role of a straight man.8

“That was a terrible joke,” the nurse said, smiling in a way that was not at all funny.

“Maybe I just wanted to defuse the situation with humor.”

But Nawa Mitsuaki was dead. There was no need for me to say something so cynical as “I hope she’s okay” now.

“I hope she’s okay,” the nurse monologued into the void and the descended the stairs, swinging her arms like she was speed-walking. She didn’t seem to be joking all the way to the core, unlike me. 

And so, despite encountering obstructions from the nurse, I somehow managed to arrive in front of Mayu’s hospital room.

There was no one to help, so I ordered myself to open the door. Just when I was about to do so, my hand paused in response to the stimulus reaching my ear. A voice with a moderate intonation, like a narrator reading out a Japanese folktale, reached me through the door. It was like an invocation to the gods9. It continued at a surprisingly slow pace, with no stops. 

I waited outside the door, straining my ears to understand it. …It sounded like Natsuki-san speaking. I couldn’t make out whole sentences, but it sounded like there was “desu” and “masu” at the end of the words. Was she reading a fairy tale or a picture book to Mayu? And what was Mayu doing?

I was neither excited nor nervous about the possibility of an unexpected situation happening inside the room; I just let the mystery guide my hand to the door. I half-opened the door head on.

In the room there were two people – Mayu and Natsuki-san, of course. Mayu was upright on the bed, propping her upper part of the body up and facing the wall. The look in her eyes and her mannerisms seemed oddly adult-like and calm, making my skin crawl.

Natsuki-san was sitting in a chair, her hand propping up a wide, thin book.

Both of them were alerted to my presence with the sound of the door and turned around. Both of them, regardless of their true feelings, welcomed me with cheerful expressions on their faces. At the same time, Mayu’s inexplicable atmosphere was dispelled.

Mayu tried to put her hands on the edge of the bed and put her feet down. But, lacking the depth perception, Mayu only pushed against air. She slumped, ready to hit the floor shoulder first, when Natsuki-san quickly supported her and pushed her body back. Mayu showed no particular resistance.

“Welcome back, Mii-san. That strange voice from before, was it you?”

While picking up her bag and standing from her seat, Natsuki-san casually striked up a conversation. I replied with an undecided “Yeah,” and approached Mayu. Mayu, without failing the task this time, moved to the edge of the bed and invitingly tapped on the empty space next to her. I could tell by her attitude that she’s just woken up.

“Then, excuse me. I’ll give you this and that.”

I was handed the picture book from Natsuki-san’s hand. 

Urikohime and Amanojaku10.

It was clearly written on the cover in hiragana.

As she passed me, Natsuki-san whispered, “Don’t worry,” then left the room with a malicious smile. Worry, about what?

While pretending not to understand, I sat down where Mayu had indicated. Then, without delay, Mayu stuck to me as if we were playing a game of magnets.

“Mi-Mi-Mi-kun, Mi-Mi-Mi-kun!”

“There, there.”

My brain was about to become hard-boiled. I thought back to the nurse’s saliva-laden message.

“Dinner is almost ready.”

“Yeah. I’m hungry.”

Probably because she slept through lunch.

“But the food made by Maa-chan is better than the food here, isn’t it?”

“Yes, of course.”

I was probably in the clear. 

“You know that woman, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t know her at all.”

Mayu flatly refused. 

…I see. I see. So that’s that, huh?

“This woman you just met, you don’t dislike her?”

To think Mayu didn’t refuse her to be at her side.

“Mmm, I hate her.”

Mayu’s carefree smile. I was on guard – she might change in an instant. 

“I was listening only because I got nostalgic for picture books.”

In other words, she was treating it like radio? As one would expect, Mayu was not jealous of machines. 

At the back of the book Natsuki-san had brought in, there was the name of the hospital written in good handwriting.

So she completely skipped the cleanup time, huh?

“Do you read picture books often?”

“What are you talking about, Mii-kun? I read them with Mii-kun all the time,” Mayu replied, eyes going wide as if she had overheard a third-rate joke. 

At that moment, I finally reminisced about the glorious past with Maa-chan and casually replied, “Yes, that’s right.” Though that’s a lie. 

“When we were together at Mii-kun’s house, we read a lot on the futon.”

I was silent. I just stared at Mayu’s beautiful face, dressed up in a dream.

“Mii-kun reads so fast, so I had to skip ahead.”

 “Sorry, sorry.”

Without reacting to my insincere apology, Mayu continued to flip through the picture book while humming. Her face had the contradictory charm of both beauty and childishness.

Her innocent gestures gave me a sense of security, while the picture book in question shocked my heart with a sense of unease.

Don’t worry, huh?

Natsuki-san said that as if she knew what I was talking about.

But I was.

I was worried.

That Mayu was not back to normal.

“…”

I’m awful.

So I wanted Mayu to stay the same?

Broken, dreaming, mistaken, and playing with the status quo.

But yes, that’s right. 

If Mayu’s memories went back to normal, I…

…I would be discarded.

“Will you read it to Maa-chan?”

In response to Mayu’s innocent question, I shook my head dramatically to dispel my distracting thoughts.

“Let’s eat dinner first.”

“Yes, alright.” Mayu drew back the picture book.

There was no one more vicious than Natsuki-san.

This was the best, most effective mode of harassment.

“Mii-kun, what’s wrong? Are you about to cry?”

Mayu slid her body down to my lap and looked up at me.

Ah, am I making a face like that right now?

So, I’m lamenting like a fully grown adult.

“No, I genuinely love Ma-chan, and now everyone is in tears.”

Even if it’s a lie.

Even if it’s cheating, deceiving. 

Even if I’m an imposter.

Even if I’m a fake, a forgery.

Even if there is no precedence. 

Even if it’s a hoax, the end result is the same.

…Three cheers for the stupid couple! I’m a lucky guy.

“Maa-chan, what do you like about me?”

“That you are Mii-kun!”

Without embarrassment, she replied with vigor.

Wonderful.

Maa-chan got it perfectly right.

So why did she also get it wrong?

TRANSLATOR’S NOTES

Please point out any and all mistakes if you see any. This series is quite complicated and hard to translate, so I’ll appreciate any corrections you may have.

As for the schedule, I will try to put one chapter every week or 10 days, depending on how busy I’ll be. Translating over 30 pages of hard text is hard, y’all.

Also, sorry about the footnotes – HTML hates me

FOOTNOTES

In Japanese schools students are assigned specific seats, usually by lottery. The seat assignment is changed from time to time, usually at the start of a new semester.
From “desu” – a bit more casual, but still polite, kind of regional.
Referring to those:
In the second year of Japanese high school, students are 16-17 years old.
According to wikipedia: “The techno cut is a haircut in which the fringe is shaved at a sharp angle and the neckline is trimmed. It became fashionable in the 1980s.”
The hero of Genji Monogatari, one of the classics of Japanese literature. Basically a classical Japanese chad.
Not girls, but literal colorful chics. Usually sold at festivals as pets. Not suitable for consumption.
Straight man and an idiot, or tsukkomi and boke, are archetypes of Japanese two-man comedy acts.
According to wikipedia: “Norito (祝詞) are liturgical texts or ritual incantations in Shinto, usually addressed to a given kami.”
Japanese folk tale.