1.
The first time Fukayasu Natsume noticed her ability was on day two of midterms.
She was stuck on problem 2 of the Math I exam. This was after she’d spent considerable time unsuccessfully trying to solve problem 1 which she ultimately left unfinished, with no choice but to rely on partial credit. She was beginning to panic. At this rate, she’d fail… It was then that Fukayasu became keenly aware of the sound of her heartbeat. Its steady, rhythmic pulsations beckoned at her consciousness, inviting her to a faraway place. There, she heard a voice.
(…Line segment BC has length 4, therefore according to the law of sines…)
It was the voice of Yoshida, a hardworking, diligent student in the seat beside her.
“Shh! We’re in the middle of a test,” Fukayasu whispered urgently. Even if Yoshida was only talking to herself, she’d be disqualified in an instant for suspicion of cheating if she were heard by the test proctor.
Yoshida glared at her. “…You’re the one who needs to shut up,” she whispered back.
Fukayasu huffed internally, feeling unjustifiably attacked. Yoshida had no right to randomly lash out at her, especially not after she’d gone out of her way to warn Yoshida. Discreetly, Fukayasu glanced around at the test proctor, checking for any changes in his manner to see if he’d noticed.
(What was that? Why the hell are you talking to me during an exam? Though I guess it’s nothing out of the ordinary for Fukayasu…)
Yoshida continued to grumble without a care in the world. Yet the test proctor paid no heed, nor did any of the students around them. Maybe only I can hear her, Fukayasu mused, then her entire body suddenly turned cold. Only I can hear her. An auditory hallucination mixed in with the sounds of mechanical pencils scratching against paper.
(…Problem 3 done. I can use the rest of the time for problem 4.)
What in the… Fukayasu spent a good three seconds in shock.
(This test was too easy. What was even the point of studying so late last night? I could’ve slept early.)
She was hearing someone’s thoughts. Reading their mind. The lack of sleep must be making me go insane, Fukayasu decided. She had frantically studied well past her usual bedtime last night cramming for the test. She had gotten no more than three hours of sleep total.
Fukayasu would have screamed, had she not been in the middle of an exam. She wanted to grab Miki and Saki who she usually hung out with and rattle on and cry endlessly about her current, inexplicable dilemma.
But she was in the middle of an exam. A hugely important test that she couldn’t afford to fail. A test which her current, inexplicable dilemma was telling her the answers to.
Mind-reading was simply too convenient to pass up, especially given the circumstances now.
At first, the ability was small. If she focused her entire being, she could barely make out the thoughts of a person sitting next to her. For the remainder of midterms, and after as well, Fukayasu continued to use her ability. The ability to hear someone’s secretive, inner thoughts was too convenient and too useful for her to exercise self-restraint.
So she practiced and developed her power, and when the test results were announced-
(I didn’t know she was this capable. She must’ve been working really hard lately…)
Without any real conscious effort, she was able to hear the voice of her teacher handing back the tests.
As Fukayasu looked down at her test, she began to idly wonder about the full extent of her capabilities. Maybe, she thought, maybe if I could just read the mind of Aizawa Ayaka, who sits across the room from me, then I could also get a perfect score.
The lone, inhuman prodigy who happened to reside in the same class as Fukayasu.
The single individual who had caught the attention of everyone in the school. No one doubted that she’d be accepted into whatever college she applied to. People even whispered that she would be accepted if she applied right now.
Fukayasu thought back to the days leading up to spring break. A very particular, picky math teacher had reproached Aizawa for her attitude during class. It wasn’t because Aizawa was disturbing class- on the contrary, she hadn’t done anything at all. The teacher simply disliked the fact that she always looked sullen and bored during his lessons.
“Now, let’s look at some practical applications. For this problem, let’s see… let’s have Aizawa-san solve this problem. Aizawa-san, come up to the blackboard.”
A broad, disingenuous smile was plastered across the teacher’s face as he forced the problem on Aizawa without any warning at all.
The entire class was sympathetic. Aizawa picked up the chalk, and for a brief moment, everyone imagined her standing awkwardly in front of the board for several seconds, not knowing the answer or even where to begin. They silently extended their condolences.
However, Aizawa Ayaka didn’t even as much flinch. She faced the board and began to write, the chalk scraping against the blackboard as she wrote out the answer line after line in unbelievably perfect handwriting. Her answer was flawless. The teacher and students alike were stunned into silence, their mouths dangling open.
When she finished writing, Aizawa turned only her head, looking straight at the teacher. She didn’t say a thing, but there was no need. Her gaze alone broadcasted her message loud and clear. Anything else I have to do?
“That will be all. Wonderful job.”
If Aizawa was proud of her answer, she didn’t show it. She barely acknowledged the teacher, despite being called out without any provocation, and returned to to her seat wordlessly. Everyone watched her in complete shock. That was the day that the entire world became aware of Aizawa Ayaka’s incredible offensive power.
She was harmless when left alone. But she would strike back hard and fast when provoked.
Even fate would not save you if you made an enemy of her. During the period before the rainy season, the class reached a collective consensus. Let sleeping gods lie. Dare not to touch her. Challenging her, or talking behind her back, was out of the question. Even looking at her the wrong way was forbidden. Inaba was the only exception!
So after idly daydreaming about achieving a perfect score on midterms by reading the mind of Aizawa Ayaka, sitting a little aways from her, Fukayasu snapped back to reality.
There was no point in a full score if she didn’t achieve it herself.
In fact, it might even prove detrimental.
Hence, Fukayasu, while ecstatic that she hadn’t scored below average in any subjects, was equal parts uneasy. And next time, even if she got a full score, she wouldn’t feel nearly as ecstatic, but would most certainly feel ten times as uneasy.
She never imagined that a trivial stroke of luck could make her feel so happy. But at the same time, a small part of her was delighted.
By nature, Fukayasu was a cautious person.
By some bizarre twist of fate, she gained the ability to hear others’ inner voices. She wasn’t so naive as to believe that she was in the only one in the world like that. If it had happened to her, then she couldn’t rule out the possibility that other people also possessed similar superpowers.
That hypothesis came with problems of its own.
Compared to the previous quiz, her test score had substantially improved this time around. As a result, she was rather excited about the parent-child-teacher conference in two weeks’ time. But what if one of the teachers there could read minds? If Fukayasu even thought about her ability, she’d be found out.
All in all, she was a pretty smart high-school girl.
It was during wednesday lunch break on the eighteenth of October.
The classroom was filled with a noisy, chaotic chatter. Fukayasu was one of the contributors to that chatter.
“I’m telling you, if you wanna get likes, you have to like other people’s posts too. Just like everything you can. And do daily posts. But you can’t just post anything. No one cares about your average daily life.”
Fukayasu was explaining how to get popular on social media, while Miki and Saki bent over backwards exaggeratedly and sighed loudly.
“That sounds so haaard-“
“What am I supposed to take pictures of then?”
There’s a lot of options, Fukayasu said, hiding her exasperation beneath a sweet, thin smile.
“Food is always fine. You always eat a ton every day, right?”
(What a pain…)
Their blunt, inner thoughts were plainly audible to Fukayasu, despite her sound reasoning.
There was a multitude of options in just a single day- meals you ate, the sweets you bought at the bakery, makeup, your hairstyle, the list went on and on. You just had to pick a single one. And if Miki and Saki weren’t willing to put in even the smallest amount of effort, they only had themselves to blame. In stark contrast, famous influencers always put in extra effort, constantly looking for ways to innovate.
“I don’t eat a ton!”
“Then, how do you explain the fat on your arms?”
The trio of high school girls burst into laughter.
These moments where she could spend time with her friends and forget about everything else were precious to Fukayasu. Because of that, she even occasionally found herself looking forward to school.
(I wanna get popular while having fun)
(I want everyone to adore me)
Neither of the two could fathom what social media was. They couldn’t imagine how your happiness and sadness could be intertwined with the amount of likes you received, or how you inevitably began to measure your worth as a human being based on your follower count. The two were so blissfully unaware that it made Fukayasu jealous.
At that point during the conversation, Inaba, with a smile so pure that no one who saw it could possibly dislike her, approached their table, bringing along Aizawa Ayaka. Or so it might have appeared at first glance, but it was strikingly obvious that those two were a set.
“Heyo!”
“I feel like I always see you two together,”
Fukayasu gave a broad smile. She was particularly interested in these two.
“Intimacy is a beautiful thing, isn’t it,” Miki said, her lips curling into a small smile. Miki hummed in agreement. However, their inner thoughts were entirely different.
(Aizawa-chan looks likes she’s struggling)
(I wish she wouldn’t force herself)
Naturally, as Aizawa couldn’t read minds, she was oblivious to all of it.
“I guess.”
(…Am I smiling properly?)
It was adorable how Aizawa worked herself up over nothing.
Fukayasu didn’t dislike her. On the contrary, she’d thought that Aizawa’s cold attitude towards others was remarkably striking, in every positive sense of the word. And after gaining the ability to read minds, Fukayasu was constantly surprised by the clarity of her thoughts.
“Aizawa, you look happy.”
“You’re too good at reading me.”
Inaba sat down, and Aizawa followed her example. What are you, her wife? Fukayasu wanted to joke. But she could already imagine them pitifully blushing in embarrassment, so she refrained from saying it out loud.
“Heh heh heh, don’t pretend. Midterms, right?”
“Ah…”
“What kinda brain you got in that head?”
“The test was just too easy.”
I feel like I’m watching a cheap comedy skit, Fukayasu thought dubiously, but still laughed loudly anyway. Mostly because Saki and Miki laughed first.
Meanwhile, Aizawa wasn’t happy in the slightest about her reputation, or the whispers floating through the school about her perfect score. With a cold look, she sat down, her thoughts detached from the conversation.
(The teacher hates me, so at the very least, I have to do well on tests…)
Fukayasu sympathized with her. Aizawa’s self evaluation was on point. Despite her apparent reluctance to make friends and being shunned by society, she seemed acutely aware of her social standing as well as those around her. Fukayasu didn’t dislike smart people.
“Jeez. Was it Yano-chan from the class next door who was shouting out the window?” Fukayasu smiled.
The so called How-Why Incident.
Last monday during lunch break, Yano-san from the other class began shouting out the window as loudly as possible. “How! Why!”
Aizawa smiled back. “Poor girl.”
Inside, (It’s not my fault. I have nothing to do with her inability to score perfectly. If I was still a witch, then I wouldn’t care if she blamed everything on me, but I quit being a witch, so I really would prefer if she didn’t blame me anymore), she defended herself.
Aizawa Ayaka’s heart was like an open book. The only part she didn’t understand was the ‘witch,’ but she probably just misheard.
“But still, I did super good this time. I didn’t just not fail, I got average!”
“That’s not exactly something to be proud of?”
“It is!” Fukayasu said, parrying Saki’s interruption. “‘Cause we got to talk to Aizawa-san as a result!”
“We are blessed. We are blessed.”
(Oh Lord Aizawa, please bless us with good grades next test~!)
Saki and Miki clapped their hands together, praying. Aizawa, the subject of their prayers, looked exceedingly uncomfortable.
Meanwhile, Inaba was oblivious to her struggles, grinning broadly upon hearing her partner being praised. “I wouldn’t expect any less!”
Her innocent grin was a tad too oblivious for Fukayasu’s taste. “You should study harder though,” she chided.
“But cramming all night is bad for my skin!”
Fukayasu felt the urge to press. “Then study regularly… although I guess that’s not something I can say. But speaking of skin, the super-goddess-prodigy Aizawa’s skin is super pretty… what time do you sleep?”
Her question had unexpected repercussions.
(Are we lovers? -I wonder. How do others see us?)
Fukayasu had no idea how that thought was connected to her question, but evidently, someone had asked Aizawa about her relationship with Michiru. That much, Fukayasu could gather based off the fragments of Aizawa’s thoughts.
Fukayasu understood the sentiment. No matter how you looked at it, those two had to be dating.
Aizawa paused, saying nothing.
Somehow, Fukayasu’s question had rendered Aizawa Ayaka speechless.
(Ah, crap… I have to answer now. But, should I reply honestly? If I tell them I sleep at 10pm… no, I definitely can’t say that. They’ll be suspicious of the fact that I don’t study. If I lie… that won’t work either. They might think of me as a nocturnal monster with perfect skin.)
Beneath Aizawa’s expressionless features was a flood of flustered panic.
As the conversation came to a brief pause, Inaba Michiru answered for Aizawa with fully good intentions.
“Ayaka sleeps at ten. That’s the secret to perfect skin,” Michiru said.
“Wha-“
Aizawa was on the verge of curling up into a ball. Her careful deliberations had all been ruined in an instant, and Inaba, the ruiner of her deliberations, was innocently rubbing Aizawa’s cheeks, cheerfully chanting ‘smooth skin! smooth skin!’
“You’re not serious-” Fukayasu was taken aback. She had accepted the fact that Aizawa was an unrivaled prodigy, but still. Ten?
“Sleeping at ten isn’t that abnormal, is it?” Aizawa interjected.
“It’s extremely abnormal. It’s a waste of precious time.”
“But you have amazing test scores… that’s so unfair…”
Fukayasu didn’t even have time to process Miki and Saki’s complaints. She was too focused on Inaba and Aizawa, who, by all measures, were going overboard.
I knew they were on good terms, but to this extent? Maybe they really were dating…? She needed to verify it from them directly.
“So soft… I wanna keep touching forever.”
“Hey…? Michiru?”
“What?”
“Everyone’s watching, so… can you save that for when we’re alone?”
“Ah, you’re right. Sorry!”
Fukayasu was getting secondhand embarrassment watching them openly flirt. Get a room.
“Are you two… um, dating?”
Miki, unable to contain herself, was the first to interrupt, facing the two head on. Finally, the question was out in the open.
(I said it!!!!!!! I said the forbidden words!!) Miki screamed.
(Uhm, how should I answer… I wonder what Ayaka thinks.)
Saki was visibly agitated. Meanwhile, Inaba maintained a neutral expression, already in the process of searching for a way to salvage the conversation. Even in this situation, she still manages to keep her cool, Fukayasu thought, impressed. Inaba was second to none when it came to social interactions.
Her partner Aizawa however, was a different story.
(D-da-da…t-ting…) She paled.
“We’re not.”
Inaba replied cheerfully without a moment’s delay. Trying to forcefully steer the conversation towards a different direction, no doubt.
“You don’t have to hide it.”
“We won’t look at you differently.”
However, Miki continued to pursue the question aggressively, and Saki followed suit.
“We’re just friends. Look, Ayaka looks distressed, so let’s just stop this conversation.” Inaba denied them profusely.
(Huh…?)
At that moment, she felt a small hole form inside Aizawa’s heart. Her pain was distinctly transmitted to Fukayasu.
Unrequited love- an emotion that Fukayasu had never experienced before, but if it hurt this much, then Fukayasu never wanted to fall in love. She was feeling Aizawa’s pain, and it made her want to flee to a deserted place where no one else could see or hear her, and writhe and twist and scream out in pain. It stung her, burned her, tormented her.
Taking pity on Aizawa, Fukayasu decided to throw her a lifeboat. But Inaba spoke first.
“Right, Ayaka?”
“Sure.”
Utterly oblivious to the end, Inaba forced Aizawa to confirm, promptly delivering the deathblow.
Her heart having been violently gouged out, Aizawa’s expressionless face was on the verge of tears, a sight so pitiful that Fukayasu couldn’t bear to watch.
2.
It Tuesday during lunch break. Fukayasu was in the gymnasium.
In front of her was a single female student. She was sitting on the edge of the stage facing the gymnasium, thoroughly engrossed in her phone which she held sideways. She was Komekawa Shiron, the president of the drama club.
“Hey, Shiron.”
“Oh, Natsume? What’s up?”
She was someone that Fukayasu could call a close friend. They were one year apart, and ever since they’d met in preschool, they’d been together ever since, throughout elementary school, middle school, and now high school.
“What are you doing over there?”
“I want to learn this stage down to my cellular level. So I’m spending as much time here as I can.”
Fukayasu hoisted herself onto the stage, taking a seat beside Shiron. She was watching a video of a performance from another school’s culture festival. Even Fukayasu, with her untrained eyes, could tell that the performance was spectacular. The actors’ words sounded from the phone’s speakers. Occasionally, the audience stirred, sometimes with screams, sometimes with laughter, so loud that the audio clipped.
“The culture festival was quite the disaster, wasn’t it.”
“Finally someone says it the way it is…”
A part of Shiron’s composed features contorted, revealing her true thoughts. Don’t pursue the topic any further, her expression said. The drama club’s performance at the culture festival, which had taken place on this very stage, had ended in utter tragedy.
“No one in the club cares. Every one of them thinks that enjoying the process is more important than the result.”
“But you’re not satisfied?”
“That’s not true at all. If we had fun, then that’s what matters.” Shiron’s tone came out dark and emotionless.
Before Fukayasu could wonder about Shiron, she noticed that something didn’t feel right.
She couldn’t hear Shiron’s thoughts. That was why she’d come to see Shiron in the first place.
In most situations, Fukayasu could generally guess what Shiron was thinking. In other words, she was the perfect person for Fukayasu to verify whether or not she could truly read minds. However, no matter how hard she listened, she simply could not hear Shiron’s voice. She was the first person whose thoughts Fukayasu couldn’t hear.
“Natsume?”
“Huh, oh, yeah. I’m listening, I’m listening.”
Her concentration broken, Fukayasu returned to reality, where she found Shiron staring at her curiously.
“I wasn’t talking though…”
“That was a trick question.”
“Did you trip on air again?” Shiron said with a look of wonder.
Fukayasu shot back a dirty glare. Fukayasu couldn’t hear Shiron’s true thoughts, and for the first time in her life, she couldn’t help but think of her childhood friend as an ominous existence who didn’t quite belong.
Fukayasu Natsume and Komekawa Shiron first met in the playground of the preschool that they both attended. The two were one year apart, and the teachers always treated them like a bundle deal: the older student, giving affection like an older sister, and the younger student, the subject of her affection.
On the other hand, seniority and the likes were a complete non-factor for the two. It didn’t matter that one was a year older, or in a higher grade- they were equals, more like friends or siblings. Though their relationship wasn’t quite the same as normal friends or siblings.
Unlike normal friends, they belonged to separate friend groups in their respective grades, yet their friendship flourished in spite of, or perhaps due to, those differences.
And Fukayasu was well aware that they were different from normal siblings. She herself had three sisters of different ages, and the ones closest in age always ended up fighting amongst each other.
One year, fate brought along a decisive event that would change the course of their future. Every autumn at the elementary school that Fukayasu and Shiron attended, the parents’ association would invite a professional drama troupe to come perform at their school.
It was during their earlier years of primary school, and the play that year was ‘The Little Mermaid.’
The mere two hour play impacted the two in drastically different ways.
Fukayasu enjoyed the play for those two hours, and not a minute more or less, and meanwhile, during that very same play, Shiron’s lifelong dream flashed before her eyes.
“I want to be an actress.”
It was the summer of Fukayasu’s second year of middle school, and Shiron’s third year. Shiron declared her dream boldly with unshakeable confidence.
“You mean, like a job? You realize what you’re saying?”
“I know it’ll be difficult.”
‘Difficult’ wasn’t the right word. Trying to make a living as an actress couldn’t be called a goal- it was more of a pipe dream. Did Shiron realize the hardships and misery that awaited her on such a path? Fukayasu was doubtful.
The little mermaid’s close friends, who cherished her and her once beautiful voice, sought the sea witch who had ruined the futures of countless young men and women before.
That sea monster is commonly known to as ‘dreams.’
“Well, I support you.”
Fukayasu simply couldn’t disapprove. After all, she belonged in the same boat.
Still, she was convinced that her boat was preferable many times over. After all, she didn’t believe that hers was a distant future dream or impossible aspiration. What she’d written on her future planning worksheet was simply a goal.
To become a hair stylist.
To graduate from high school, complete two years of vocational school, and receive her beautician certificate. It sounded so simple when she put it into words, but in reality, the path she’d chosen was incredibly treacherous. And she would have to walk the entire way without stumbling a single time. At any rate, cutting people’s hair without the certificate was illegal.
It didn’t matter how skillful she was at styling hair, or how many tens of thousands of viewers she could garner on her youtube channel, without the bare minimum, she wouldn’t get anywhere.
To realize her goal, Fukayasu had no other choice. She needed that certificate. ‘Certificate.’ In that word, Fukayasu felt the weight of an unbudging reality that refused to move an inch, and the understanding that she needed to face it head on.
Precisely during the very same second year of middle school, Fukayasu realized it.
The people who had become her parents often told her ‘As long as you live a long, healthy life, nothing else matters.’
It was at that point of her life that she learned that those beautiful, idealistic words were only for show.
In all fairness to her parents, perhaps those words had been sincere for the first few years of her life. However, as their little daughter grew older, she became unable to meet their trifling wishes. ‘I hope she grows up as an honest girl’ became ‘a smarter, better girl,’ and from then on, their realistic expectations became unachievable ideals, piling on without her parents even aware of what they were doing.
The animal known as the homo sapiens might have eliminated their dependence on mother nature, but they could not eliminate their own, greedy nature still pervaded every aspect of their lives.
“Mama, I’m gonna become a hair stylist.”
It was the day before Fukayasu submitted her future planning worksheet. Fukayasu announced her future intentions to her parents, sitting next to each other in the living room.
For a while, Fukayasu’s parents said nothing.
Their expressions were anything but pleasant.
Her mother, who had continued her job as a businesswoman even after giving birth to Fukayasu, received the news with an especially cold reaction.
“This is your future, you know. Have you thought about this seriously?”
“…Is there anything wrong with being a hair stylist?”
“You wouldn’t ask that question if you watched the news at all. Understand? We’re living in an era of a rapidly declining population.”
“So basically, the population is shrinking, so robots are going to replace humans as hair stylists? Is that what you’re saying?” Sulking, Fukuyasu abruptly remembered a documentary she’d watched recently about developments in AI technology.
“That’s not it. If the population shrinks, then there’ll be less hair to cut. Have you researched the number of beautician licenses they give out per year?”
“And to become a hair stylist, you’d have to go to vocational school and receive the certificate.”
“Yeah…”
“I’m not saying you can’t retake the test if you fail it the first time, but you’ll have wasted two years of your precious youth.”
Her mother approached the topic in such a roundabout way while sounding clearly disappointed, and Fukayasu churned with anger.
But there was no point in yelling and arguing back. Yelling would make her feel good in that moment, but she wouldn’t gain anything out of it. Fukayasu wasn’t a cool headed person by nature. She only managed to keep her composure by thinking about what Shiron would do in her spot. Shiron most certainly wouldn’t yell, that she was sure of.
“Go to a regular four-year university. Somewhere that will actually be useful to your future.”
Her mother’s mind had been made up from the start.
Her father said nothing.
If Shiron, who was more earnest than anyone else about her dream, were in Fukayasu’s shoes, then she would have eaten mud if it meant realizing her dream. Regardless of the circumstances, Shiron would have suppressed her self-esteem and done anything and everything possible, stubbornly fighting for her belief.
“What do I have to do for you to agree?” Fukayasu asked.
“Let’s see… Get into Konohana High first. Then I’ll think about it.”
Her mother named one of the prominent high schools of their region.
Her mother hadn’t named that condition arbitrarily. The harder a school’s admissions process was, the smarter the students that attended it. If Fukayasu managed to somehow get in, then perhaps the influence from those students would change her mind. It was a cold, rational calculation.
Parents see their own dreams in their children.
Whether it be realizing some unfulfilled ideal, or being recognized by society for their achievements, or simply earning a lot of money- everything that the parents couldn’t achieve is pushed onto the children.
Of course, it is completely unreasonable. But parents can’t be blamed for it. Until you tell them how you really feel, parents are free to set as many unreasonable expectations as they want.
On the day following the incident with her mother, Fukayasu unexpectedly ran into Shiron on her way back from school. They ended up walking back together side by side, their route leading them to the top of a hill overlooking the town. From here, the entire town was visible in a single, unbroken view.
Shiron broke the ice cream she was carrying into two and handed half to Fukayasu.
“I think a hair stylist sounds good,” she said curtly.
“My parents won’t let me.”
Fukayasu thanked Shiron and took the ice cream, catching a glance at her profile.
Shiron had always been good at swimming with the tide. Despite their strict middle school’s rules prohibiting it, she often secretly took money with her to school and bought ice cream on the way back. She knew exactly which stores wouldn’t sell to a child in uniform, or which times to be vigilant for patrolling policemen, deftly avoiding capture.
When she was discovered carrying a phone in school, she convinced the teachers that it wasn’t hers, offering up another student as sacrifice. When she was caught with ice cream, she skillfully persuaded the teacher that it was someone else’s fault.
As her friend, Fukayasu received a portion of the fruits of her accomplishments.
“Parents are parents, I guess. Mine keep trying to tell me that I can’t make a living as an actress.”
“Well, yeah.”
The town’s silhouette stretched out beneath the hill. It looked tiny. And Fukayasu, who lived there, was even tinier.
“It’s so dumb. It’s my life. Don’t tell me what to do.”
It was refreshing to see Shiron speaking so bluntly for a change.
To Fukayasu, Shiron was an extremely easygoing friend, and someone she wanted to stand on equal footing with. And though Fukayasu would absolutely never admit it, there was no one else on the planet who she admired and respected more.
“So, have you given up?” asked Shiron.
Under Shiron’s intense scrutiny, Fukayasu had nowhere to hide. “D-don’t be stupid! Obviously I haven’t given up! I’ll never give up! It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“My parents said if I get into Konohana High, they’ll think about it.”
Fukayasu told her about the condition her mother had set forth, her voice betraying her lack of confidence. It was an unthinkably difficult condition, after all.
“I got it!” Shiron shouted all of a sudden.
A speeding car rushed by them barely a few feet away. The car’s engine was still barely audible when Shiron declared her idea. “I’ll go to Konohana too!”
“Huh? What the hell are you saying?”
Fukayasu began to seriously worry if there was something wrong with her one year older childhood friend’s head.
But Shiron continued as a matter-of-factly. “All I need is to continue my schooling. Then I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t see how that’s going to convince your parents. And what does going to Konohana have to do with becoming an actress anyway?
“No, that’s not the point, Natsume.”
Shiron stood up, and with great vigor, she began to talk without pausing once.
As long as she continued her education, as long as she did well in school, then her parents had no reason to complain.
If she continued her education through high school, college, and graduate school, she could stay in school until she was twenty-four. That gave her plenty of time to find her big break into the world of acting. It was a life-prolonging scheme, so to speak. And in order to extend the amount of time she could spend chasing her dream, she would aim for a top tier high school. Several thousand hours spent studying for entrance exams was a cheap price to pay for years of time in the future. Shiron explained her plan proudly.
“Huh? It’s already September though. Do you realize the difference in level between you and Konohana?” Fukayasu didn’t understand. (T/N: Japanese school term begins in the spring)
“It’s not impossible for me! …Well, that’s not true. It’s impossible for me, but not for my dream! Besides, it’ll be more impressive this way! I haven’t shown my true power yet.”
She definitely had a screw loose, Fukayasu thought with a sigh. She looked at Komekawa Shiron pitifully.
However, half a year later, she realized that she had underestimated Shiron.
Shiron had gone all out in her studies and gotten accepted to her number one high school. That harsh, frigid February, Fukayasu couldn’t bear to look her childhood friend in the eye. Shiron was dazzling, her bright smile and outstretched peace sign shining more brilliantly than ever.
However, Fukayasu, now one step further away from her friend, didn’t fail to notice a critical detail.
Shiron hadn’t bothered to factor school tuition into her calculations.
Perhaps she’d assumed that her parents would shoulder the cost, or perhaps she figured that she’d take out a student loan and pay it back in the future. At any rate, it was an extremely shortsighted and dangerous calculus.
At the same time that Fukayasu reevaluated her assumptions about Shiron’s capabilities, she learned something else.
Shiron would stop at nothing to achieve her goals.
Even so, Shiron’s endeavors moved Fukayasu. Fukayasu decided to pursue her dream, urged on by a sense of duty more than anything else. And so, Fukayasu passed the Konohana entrance exams. It should have taken an entire year’s worth of frenzied studying. That year should have been crammed with painstaking work, endurance, and self denial. Yet for that entire year, she felt nothing of the sort, passing into Konohana as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
In all honesty, Fukayasu didn’t think that she had worked particularly hard at all.
Shiron passed, so she had to pass as well. That was all. She simply studied for five hours on weekdays after school, and eight hours on weekends and holidays, every day for one year. She wasn’t exerting herself, she was simply studying.
It was the day after the ‘How-Why’ incident.
Fukayasu, with an immensely pleased look on her face, was showing her report card to her mother. Thinking that she’d be able to please her mother with her passing grades, her happiness manifested itself as simple childish delight.
“Mama! Look at my midterm results!”
“…That’s unexpected. Did you really study that much?”
“I studied tons!”
Ignoring the sense of guilt, Fukayasu claimed full credit for her achievement. Her mother’s conditions were to get into Konohana, and keep up with her studies. Based on these midterm results, Fukayasu wasn’t doing bad at all.
“So, what about beauty school?”
“Let me show this to your dad and see what he thinks. Give me a second.”
“The parent-teacher conference is in two weeks. Don’t forget.”
So make sure you come to a decision about your daughter’s future, Fukayasu implied with her words.
Her mother seemed to understand her intentions.
(This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all. Did I set my condition too low?)
As she stared at the report card she was holding, Fukayasu’s mother rubbed her white cheek with her other hand, as if trying to stop her facial expressions from betraying her thoughts. However, her thoughts themselves were all to plain to see.
(How can I scare her away from her foolish dream?)
Her voice, which never should have ever made it out of the recesses of her mind, broadcasted her large disappointment directly to Fukayasu.
3.
After classes ended on Wednesday, Fukayasu went to watch the drama club’s practice again.
The ballet club was also practicing in the gymnasium while the basketball club was running an informal game. Meanwhile, the drama club was hustling about the stage.
Amidst the practice, Shiron alone stood out from the rest of the club members. Even someone who’d never seen a play before could have easily picked out the star actress. It was hard to put into words, but it felt like the other members weren’t made to act on stage. Perhaps they’d be better off doing comedy sketches, Fukayasu thought dubiously.
The club president even went so far as to pretending to cry at how terrible they were.
“Waaaaaah, Nacchannnn!”
“I told you to not call me Nacchan. It’s annoying.”
Shiron hopped off the stage and sprinted towards the entrance where Fukayasu was standing and watching the practice. It was a scene that Fukayasu had gotten used to by now. The club members allowed themselves to chuckle for a brief moment before returning back to their practice.
In their childhood, Shiron always called Fukayasu ‘Nacchan.’ Now, the nickname was used more often than not as a way of teasing. On a separate note, Fukayasu used to call Shiron ‘Shiro-chan.’
“Why wouldn’t I call Nacchan ‘Nacchan’?”
“I swear to god you’re still gonna be calling me Nacchan when I’m an old woman.”
“When you’re an old woman… so you’re saying we’re going to be friends forever☆” She winked cutely.
Fukayasu shivered. “Don’t act innocently in front of me. It gives me the creeps.”
“Tch. I was giving you fanservice.”
What part of that was fanservice, Fukayasu sighed. No amount of cutesy acting on Shiron’s part would improve her mood.
“Did ya’ll see that? That was my overdramatic character performance!” Shiron couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice as she addressed the other club members.
“You speak to your members like that…? I feel sorry for them.”
“Just you watch. I’m gonna drown the entirety of America with a storm born from the throes of passion created by my performance.”
“You mean you’re going to take them by storm?”
“No, I’m gonna drown the continent with a storm made of tears.”
“Ah, you meant drown them physically.”
Fukayasu dutifully played the part of the straight-man, enabling Shiron’s antics.
Shiron looked towards the ceiling exaggeratedly and boomed in an announcer voice. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, ‘The Dumbass Play’!!”
“We can hear you!!”
Angry shouts rang from the stage, where the club members had suddenly become riled up.
This year, Konohana’s drama club’s performance had been especially terrible. It was so terrible that a scathing student from a different school had dubbed it ‘The Dumbass Play.’ Originally, Shiron raged with indignity, but after she had vented out most of her anger, she decided that the student hadn’t been wrong, and began using the name as well.
Konohana High School’s drama club was at an all time low, to the point where the president admitted it.
To begin with, their props were horrible. Their fake flowers withered and died. Dolls they made would shed all their hair. Their chairs always collapsed. They tried store-bought chairs instead, but those kept collapsing anyway.
To top it all off, during the actual performance, one of the ringtones of a smartphone they were using as a prop went off. And somehow, the call was automatically accepted via a hands-free feature, following which a shrill girl’s voice was blasted throughout the hall, accusing the smartphone owner of cheating on her.
At any rate, legends of the drama club’s incompetence would go down in the school’s history.
Fukayasu doubted that their fake flowers had actually withered away, but she knew the smartphone story was real. She’d seen the tragedy unfold with her own eyes. She had gone to see the play, keeping it a secret from Shiron. Saki and Miki, accompanying her, had burst into uncontrollable laughter, and Fukayasu couldn’t help but giggle despite herself.
So this is what Shiron meant by the drama club being at an all time low.
A tragedy that could have easily been prevented had they used a fake phone instead. Or, they could’ve just turned on Do Not Disturb. But instead, they’d destroyed their entire performance because they couldn’t even think that far ahead. How could anyone be blamed for criticizing the drama club? They really should just stick with comedy, Fukayasu thought.
“Ah man, we were so good last year.” Shiron stared at the stage with a faraway look in her eyes. “We were so good last year. We had way more practices then. Everyone loved our performance, and our club was filled with people who lived for theater.”
“You’re still as obsessed with your seniors as ever.”
“That’s ’cause they were amazing! I know without a shadow of doubt they’ll get their big breaks into the world of theater.”
“Alright alright, I get it.”
“But first, I have to sort myself out.” Shiron’s expression darkened.
“Shiron…” But Fukayasu was an outsider who had nothing to do with the drama club. There was nothing she could say.
Shiron had never invited Fukayasu to join the drama club. Other members, who’d grown accustomed to seeing Fukayasu pop in for visits, often joked that she may as well join, seeing as how she was basically an honorary member already. However, Shiron herself had never once extended such an invitation.
It’s better this way, Fukayasu thought.
Shiron was truly devoted to theater. It was pure, unadulterated devotion. If Fukayasu ever donned the title of actress, she’d probably become the subject of Shiron’s contempt.
Nor did Shiron ever invite her to see a performance. There was nothing more embarrassing for Shiron than to be seen in a bad play.
Fukayasu was keenly aware of their distance as friends. And for someone as knowledgeable in social affairs as herself, there was no way she could misread something like that.
4.
Fukayasu knew it well.
She knew that while humans carry out their daily lives under a beautiful guise of universal equality, the face behind the mask is often less than beautiful.
She knew that invisible floors separated the students in her class into castes. And she also knew that the floor she walked on was a ceiling for everyone else.
Fukayasu belonged to the class’s nobility.
She never felt uncomfortable surrounded by her classmates. She wasn’t a peasant, so even when she had to show consideration for someone else… well, such situations were rare to the point of being nonexistent.
She never said it out loud, but unlike the peasants who were her peers, she was never particularly concerned about being disliked. Human relationships meant being bound up with fetters of obligation. They were suffocating. It didn’t matter whether you were an adult or a child.
If you said what you wanted to say, your words would turn into gossip and come back to bite you. If you did what you wanted to do, they would say that you got carried away and that would again turn into gossip. If things got out of hand, that gossip turned into malicious bullying. Getting your chair kicked out from under you, your belongings being stolen, oh, and, getting stuffed into a locker. Fukayasu had seen it all happen to others before. It was inevitable- the result of shoving a bunch of teenage boys and girls into a cramped classroom. Human beings weren’t angels, they were more akin to monkeys, Fukayasu thought.
Such was the caste system within their class.
Animals created hierarchies, and they always obeyed those hierarchies without fail. Groups of Medaka fish living in a small container bully and kill their family members without batting an eye.
Fukayasu constantly worked to maintain her status as nobility. She never disturbed peace, avoided everything deemed ‘uncool,’ and demonstrated her values by honoring trends.
But there was a student in the class which the caste couldn’t place.
Aizawa Ayaka.
She didn’t hang out with anyone other than Inaba. Someone who you could never expect cooperation from.
The other nobility considered her an outcast. They looked down on her as unfit for society, someone who couldn’t ever compare to themselves. They were idiots, all of them…
Those who failed to realize the true nature of her existence were fated for an untimely social death. Fukayasu, who had survived this far in the school’s vicious environment, knew that all too well.
Some primal instinct deep within Fukayasu strongly warned her that Aizawa wasn’t an outcast. Harmless if left untouched. But if aggravated, you would end up paying the highest possible price.
So what exactly was Aizawa’s true nature? Fukayasu only clearly understood it once she gained the ability to read minds.
She was royalty. No one else was aware of it, but Aizawa and Inaba were queens, Fukayasu thought.
They ruled over no one, so they weren’t nobility. But nor were they ruled by anyone. They were free, unshackled beings.
If you tried to control them, you would be the only one who ended up hurt. Fukayasu, with her acute sense of smell, sensed this whilst no one else had.
They said the things they wanted to say, and did the things they wanted to do. They did it as naturally as breathing. And if they felt like it, they could become the center of the class whenever they liked.
Whenever Fukayasu looked at the two, standing calmly in solitude apart from the rest, a sour taste would fill her chest.
It was a taste commonly referred to as envy.
Fukayasu knew how to read the atmosphere better than anyone, and she paid attention to the tiniest details that others might not even consider. Thanks to her efforts, she had attained a certain level of freedom in what she could say and do.
But no matter how much she persevered, she could never attain the degree of total freedom that those two embodied. Her jealousy was only natural.
It was Thursday morning, and Fukayasu was despondent. First, she had overslept. Her hair was a complete mess, tangled in every which way, and she agonized over how to salvage it. In the end, she decided on a half-up style. Still, she ended up arriving five minutes late. She entered the classroom only to find it uncharacteristically noisy, and she didn’t have time to ask someone to let her copy their classical japanese translation homework.
But that was fine; Fukayasu didn’t panic. After all, she could hear thoughts. If she was called on, she would just read the teacher’s mind for the answers. There was nothing to worry about.
It was at that point that she heard the voices. The reason behind the classroom’s noise.
(Huh… something’s weird…)
(Did we have a quiz first period…? No. Why’s everyone so fidgety?)
Fukayasu glanced around the classroom. Everyone seemed aware of the fidgety atmosphere, and were deliberately avoiding looking at a certain spot in the classroom. In that certain spot, three girls were cheerfully conversing.
“-so after the test, I went to see the movie! It was really good!”
“I haven’t seen it yet. I’ve only read the book. …What about you, Michiru?”
“……I’m sleepy.”
The usually docile Kotani was going on excitedly about a movie. Aizawa chimed in with comments, while the usually sociable Michiru seemed awfully docile.
The main problem was how they were positioned. Inaba was sitting on the edge of Aizawa’s chair, as if the two were sharing a chair, which couldn’t have been comfortable for her, but she didn’t let out a single complaint as she sat calmly while every part of her body from waist to shoulder was glued tightly to Aizawa’s. How dare those two act so shamelessly in front of others!
(What am I watching. I’m obviously third-wheeling here… I want out…)
Kotani, despite her inner struggles, kept up her appearances remarkably well.
Everyone else pretended not to see. No one said anything. Everyone acted as if they were busy with something else, as if nothing was wrong. After all, royalty lived in a world of their own.
Still, the classroom was filled with turbulence that morning. One boy passed by their desk, and his nose twitched.
(Wait… What…?)
Out of pure curiosity, Fukayasu dropped in on his thoughts.
(What’s with Aizawa’s hair? Why does it smell like…)
It wasn’t just him. Several other students sitting near them or passing by noticed as well.
(Aizawa and Inaba used the same shampoo?)
(Did they have a sleepover? Really?)
It was Thursday morning.
Yesterday was a school day, and today was a school day. Naturally, it was hard to believe that one would have a sleepover. The atmosphere had infected nearly half the classroom.
Aizawa, the person in question, seemed to be acting perfectly normal. “Hey, shouldn’t you sit in your own chair instead of squeezing me out of mine?”
But on the inside, (I slept over I slept over I slept over I slept over…)
Beneath her expressionless demeanor was an uproar of activity.
There was one more person in question. “…I like it here……I like it here.”
Inaba leaned her head against Aizawa, dozing off. Interestingly enough, her thoughts were exceptionally pronounced.
(I missed my chance! I missed my chance to tell her! I have to tell her eventually, but I couldn’t tell her! And why the hell does Ayaka always fall asleep so fast!? She’s so defenseless while sleeping, and so cute, so how do you expect me to get any sleep!?)
Her thoughts flew by at unthinkably high speeds, and Fukayasu struggled to make coherent sense out of them.
‘Always’…?
Fukayasu choked.
Did they have sleepovers on a regular basis?
When did they develop that sort of relationship?
Their pure, honest friendship dropped like a bomb in the middle of their unaware classmates.
In that way, morning homeroom passed, and classes started.
All throughout class, Aizawa’d mind was soaring through clouds somewhere far, far away, her textbook left unopened.
Normally, she was far from being a diligent student during class, but at the very least, she always had her textbook open. She at least pretended to listen to the lesson. Though she didn’t really take notes. Fukayasu kept sneaking quick peaks at Aizawa and Inaba. Aizawa might as well not even have been there.
The classical Japanese teacher saw that as a sign of weakness.
“Alright, Aizawa-san, please read starting from page eighty three line four.”
Quite obviously, the teacher was hoping to bring down the prodigy when her guard was down.
“Okay.”
Aizawa looked straight ahead and smoothly read through the passage. Her voice sounded perfectly normal. She never faltered once at the difficult vocabulary or strange pronunciations. It was a praiseworthy performance, but at the same time, that was well within expectations.
But one small detail was extremely abnormal.
Aizawa didn’t have her textbook open. She hadn’t even taken it out of her bag.
Yet she was reading. Her clear voice rang throughout the classroom, entering Fukayasu’s ears. Her words resounded through every person in the classroom. They matched line for line word for word character for character with the textbooks open on everyone’s desk, but she didn’t have hers out…
“Excuse me. How far should I read up to?”
“A-ah, this much is fine. Thank you.”
The classical Japanese teacher flinched.
Such was the girl who’d never gotten anything lower than full marks on anything from tests in school to mock exams out of school. The genius who was said to be capable of passing any college exam.
Had she already memorized the contents of the textbooks?
Her interest piqued, Fukayasu observed Aizawa Ayaka for the whole day.
Fukayasu took every opportunity to gaze at Aizawa, much like how middle school students stare longingly at their crush sitting across the classroom. A few of her classmates noticed Fukayasu’s apparent interest and interpreted it the wrong way.
(Fukayasu’s being reckless…)
(I can’t believe she’s trying to get in between those two)
Fukayasu scoffed at their stupidity.
In the end, Aizawa never did take out her textbook.
The entire incident only reaffirmed Fukayasu’s belief that Aizawa was different, that she had sleepovers at Inaba’s house, which is also why she hadn’t brought her textbooks or notebooks to school. Coincidentally, Fukayasu also learned that Aizawa didn’t store her textbooks at school.
After class, Fukayasu went to the drama club’s practice, where she found an nearly unfathomable sight awaiting her.
The first thing that seemed off was Komekawa Shiron’s face. Her expression looked vaguely grim. She was still in her school uniform, which Fukayasu thought strange. Shiron was an actress, and given their limited amount of time, she should’ve been in full costume.
The next thing that stood out to her was so horrifying that Fukayasu couldn’t bear to look once she realized what had happened.
Her childhood friend’s leg looked odd.
In particular, something was plainly off about the region from her right knee down.
A cumbersome, bulky cast was wrapped around Shiron’s right calf. She was sitting slouched in a plastic chair, watching disinterestedly at the other members practicing.
“Broke my leg,” Shiron said when she noticed Fukayasu approaching, chuckling nonchalantly.
“W-what the hell…”
“It hurts real bad☆.” She stuck out her tongue, which was exceedingly difficult to watch.
Fukayasu stared at Shiron’s right leg in utter disbelief. What had happened? She couldn’t even imagine. But the reality of the situation was that Shiron had gravely injured her leg.
Fukayasu felt like her body had turned to ice. What had happened couldn’t be undone. Up until today, Shiron had frantically prepared for their next performance. She’d given her life and soul for the sake of the drama club.
However, with this leg…
How could she act like everything was alright?
“What happened?”
“I dropped a dumbbell.” Shiron stuck out her tongue.
Was she an idiot? She wasn’t in any position to joke around.
“You have your performance on saturday with the other schools, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Looks like I’ll have to drop out.”
“But you’re the main lead…?”
“Ah, sucks.”
Fukayasu could almost see Shiron’s invisible tears. While she couldn’t read her childhood friend’s thoughts, she could somewhat understand what Shiron felt. ‘somewhat’? Screw that. She didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know exactly what Shiron was thinking.
(Fukayasu came.)
(Finally, someone who can give President a good ol’ whacking. She deserves it.)
(Guess the saturday performance isn’t happening after all.)
The club members’ thoughts revealed their concern.
Their despondent eyes spoke for themselves, and their thoughts conveyed their desperation far more poignantly than words could.
“Please…”
Someone please help.
“I mean, what can you do, amirite?”
Fukayasu looked at Shiron imploringly. “Please, Shiron. This isn’t like you.”
Shiron said nothing.
Fukayasu felt an indescribable sense of discomfort.
It was as if Shiron had calmly accepted her fate without any sort of resistance, an attitude that raised goosebumps on Fukayasu’s skin.
“Why do you look so unhappy, Nacchan? I’m the one who’s been affected the most.”
“You’re lying… you’re lying.”
It was a terrible act.
If Shiron’s calm and composed attitude was a performance, then it was one of most unconvincing performances Fukayasu had seen. For someone like Shiron, it was an abomination.
“Wait here for a sec.”
“Nacchan!?”
But Fukayasu was already sprinting out the door.
Currently, she was stuck at deadlock, without any clear way out. But she knew someone who could help.
I hope she’s still at school…
Fukayasu ran. Time was ticking down to saturday. And there wasn’t a second to spare.
Clutching at the hem of her fluttering skirt, she ran down the hallway, school rules be damned. She nearly flew down a flight of stairs. As panicked as she was, a part of her mind remained clear- first step, head to the entrance. After checking that Aizawa’s shoes were still there, thereby confirming that she was still in the classroom, she climbed up the stairs again. She was panting from exertion.
As she neared the classroom, two voices became distinctly audible.
(Such long eyelashes…)
(Ah, she smells so good…)
One voice belonged to Aizawa.
And of course, the other could only belong to Inaba.
Thank god- Fukayasu felt like she had already been saved.
(…!!)
What sounded like a flustered voice echoed from the classroom, but Fukayasu didn’t stop.
(Ayaka… hurry up, do it again.)
Normally, Fukayasu wouldn’t have dared to burst into the classroom at a time like this. Just from their thoughts, it was more than obvious that they were in the middle of something. Interrupting their romantic moment would be like kicking a horse- she was just asking to get murdered in cold blood.
However, Fukayasu didn’t have the leisure of considering her life right now.
“Help, Aizawa!” Fukayasu clapped her hands together and prostrated on the ground.
Aizawa would help her, somehow.
Aizawa the royalty, Aizawa the genius, Aizawa would find a solution to a problem that Fukayasu would never be able to. For Aizawa who achieved full score on all her tests, who read without opening her textbook, who even predicted the earthquake, for Aizawa the witch of the classroom, for that Aizawa, surely something like a high school theater performance was nothing. Aizawa could undoubtedly save the performance before breakfast tomorrow. Unconsciously, Fukayasu pushed all her absurdly unrealistic expectations onto Aizawa.
“What’s the matter…?”
At first, Aizawa Ayaka was flustered. She was shaken, so much that she had lost her composure. Fukayasu silently apologized for barging into her time with Inaba, but it didn’t matter right now.
“I need your help for theater club.”
Fukayasu didn’t hesitate as she went on to explain the situation.
Several drama clubs from various high schools would gather on Sunday, each giving their performance.
Konohana’s drama club was participating as well.
The president Komekawa, the main lead, had broken her leg.
Without a replacement, they’d be forced to drop out.
Naturally, the lead actress showed up in most of the scenes, and was responsible for a mountain of lines, so no one could possible fill that role.
(This has nothing to do with me. It has nothing to do with me, but I could help Fukayasu-san. If I do nothing and let her hang by herself, then nothing will have changed up to now. But ever since I met her, I’ve changed. If I believe that I’ve changed, then… Even a hunter won’t shoot a bird that seeks his help… How fitting.)
Aizawa, who fully understood the situation, replied tersely. “If there are recordings of the past stagings, I’ll do it.”
She didn’t ask about the script, nor compensation. She simply asked for a model.
“Ayaka!?” Inaba reacted sharply. She was being considerate of Aizawa. “You know it’s saturday, right? You only have two days left.”
To put it bluntly, ‘Forget about Fukayasu.’ But Fukayasu barely reacted. She’d known that Inaba would react like that. And more importantly, Fukayasu took comfort in the fact that Aizawa didn’t falter in her conviction.
(It’s fine, I still have ten days until then. At the bare minimum, I’ll have four days. That’s plenty of time.)
But she had no idea what Aizawa was thinking.
“Aizawa, I’m just making sure with you. Our show is the day after tomorrow. Can you make it?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m a genius.”
While Fukayasu did question whether Aizawa was aware of the situation’s pressing reality, a single thread of hope had been dangled in front of her, and she clung onto it tightly.
“That’s…” Michiru started worriedly.
Fukayasu took out her phone. Naturally, she would first contact Shiron. Before anything, she had to resolve the question of tapes. It went without saying that Fukayasu felt bad for Shiron, but the performance was the only thing she could salvage for now.
(Stop it, Ayaka… At this rate, it’ll be the same as last time… ah-)
Inaba met eyes with Fukayasu. Fukayasu felt a torrent of unease envelop Inaba’s heart as she waited for Shiron to pick up.
Last time…?
(Natsume-chan, did she just read my- mrghh)
Fukayasu felt a sharp pain as Inaba’s heart skipped a beat.
Huh? Did she find out? That I can read minds?
Inaba? What was she about to think?
-’Natsume-chan, did she just read my mind? I can’t think anything unnecessary then’?
Something along those lines?
If you’re scared of the dark, then every shadow will start to look like a monster. Fukayasu was no exception as she carefully studied her classmate’s expression.
Inaba Michiru, averting her gaze, had a faraway look in her eyes. Aizawa hadn’t picked up on her change in demeanor. Undeterred, Fukayasu considered the implications of what that meant. But before she could read too deeply into anything, the line with Shiron connected, and she let go of her worries.
Aizawa had agreed to help, meaning that the drama club was saved.
Whether Inaba had figured out her ability or not was irrelevant. And Fukayasu wasn’t the type of person to bother with an irrelevance.
In other words, Fukayasu was good at swimming with the tide.
If she encountered a wall she needed to get over, she adeptly found a tunnel underneath. If there was a roof she needed to scale, she intuitively knew where the ladders were stored.
However, she never realized her mistake.
The wall she thought she had to get over was actually a roof, and one look from the roof at the surrounding scenery would change her view completely.
The roof she was supposed to climb was actually the neighboring one, and she had placed her ladder in the wrong position.
In other words, Fukayasu, with utter efficiency, advanced down the completely wrong path.
5.
A miracle had occurred.
Everyone in the drama club thought so.
Before then, they’d all given up.
On Thursday morning, they all thought that they’d have to drop out of the performance.
However, the small statured first year student that Fukayasu had brought along perfectly filled the void in their cast. It was almost magical. Her speech was fluent, her movement smooth and practiced, with perfect understanding of the script. If one was taken by some wild delusion, they might even be led to believe that this was better than the original. There were absolutely no complaints to speak of.
On saturday, the joint performance was held in the park grounds of the community center. The drama clubs from nearby high schools all gathered, and with every school in attendance, the event began and ended without a hitch.
Fukayasu wouldn’t forget it for her entire life.
It was seared into her eyes. The magnificent performance of the replacement actress, bathing in the spotlight. She seemed to glow from the very tips of her hair to the soles of her feet. Her movements were refined and masterfully executed, as if she had practiced them hundreds of times. Her clear words echoed grandly through the audience, her voice so pleasing to hear. Subtle expressions skillfully told the play’s story in their own way, while color seemed to emanate from her lively eyes. If she sighed, the audience sighed with her. When she smiled, the audience felt reassured from the bottom of the heart. Aizawa Ayaka was born for the theater.
And so, what followed was an inevitability.
On the way home after the event, Fukayasu and Shiron headed home together. They rode the bus from the community center, and by the time they get off at the stop near their homes, the autumn sun was already setting. Apart from Shiron’s crutches, the scene reminded Fukayasu of the occasional times in middle school where the two had walked back along this very path.
Shiron narrowed her eyes against the sun. “Where did you find a talent like that?”
“Isn’t she amazing? She’s the pride of our class.” Fukayasu couldn’t resist the sudden urge to brag. But immediately after, she regretted her lack of prudence.
Shiron’s heart was wrenched by complicated emotions.
(I can’t believe someone like that… It’s too weird…)
Fukayasu made out snatches of her dark emotions. It went without saying that she was thinking about Aizawa Ayaka.
Fukayasu shrank back in fear away from her friend’s mind.
The strong emotions brewing in Shiron threatened to overwhelm even Fukayasu, who began to feel traces of Shiron’s darkness spread through her own mind.
“What a monster. I want her to show up for practice tomorrow too,” Shiron said.
(Her existence shouldn’t be possible.)
“Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“Then Monday.”
“…Then, should I invite her?” Fukayasu asked.
Her heart stung. Everything was always about Aizawa. Shiron hadn’t ever offered Fukayasu an invitation to the drama club. And now…
“…Yeah.”
Why was she so quick with Aizawa?
(She was like just the seniors from last year…)
Before she even noticed, she had started to read Shiron’s thoughts effortlessly.
Fukayasu knew her ability was growing stronger. She no longer had to concentrate in order to read thoughts. Not only could she hear Shiron’s previously unreadable thoughts, Fukayasu could distinctly sense her waves of emotions that couldn’t be put into words.
“She’s probably had acting experience before, right? Or been to some special school for theater?” Shiron asked.
“Nah. I haven’t asked, but I don’t think so.”
Fukayasu wasn’t sure whether the cracking noise of Shiron’s heart breaking had been real, or whether she had imagined it.
Once reverence reaches a certain point, it becomes something akin to jealousy, and once that jealousy becomes concentrated enough, it transforms into hatred. As with all emotions, negative feelings change rapidly and colorfully.
(How is she that good, why, unfair, what about me, amateur, dream, same school, impossible, how many others like her are out there? Am I going to have to compete with people like her and beat them and come out alive? That’s absurd…)
Then, Fukayasu heard the decisive words.
(After I went this far! Nacchan ruined everything!)
Fukayasu’s legs stopped moving.
Shiron’s crutches continued to clunk against the ground as her back receded further and further way. The bright rays of the evening sun shone unwaveringly, and her hair fluttered in the autumn breeze while the sunset hid her features in an orange silhouette.
Their distance increased, but Shiron’s thoughts were still infuriatingly clear, and though the sun hid her features, they were clearly audible to Fukayasu, whose heart reflected Shiron’s thoughts like a mirror.
“Natsume?”
Several meters ahead, Shiron looked back.
Shiron’s expression was carefully composed, betraying nothing, only expressing puzzlement at why Fukayasu had suddenly stopped. Not even in her wildest dreams could Shiron have imagined that her deepest thoughts had all been exposed. Fukayasu, who wanted to cry at such her childhood friend’s mask, stared back.
“Shiron…” She forced away the trembling in her voice. “How did you get that injury again?”
“I told you, I dropped a dumbell on my leg.”
As irritating as Shiron’s lazy tone was, she wasn’t lying.
Fukayasu had been deceived. And it was her own fault.
I dropped a dumbell on my leg- by accident.
I dropped a dumbell on my leg- on purpose.
Without further clarification, both meanings were possible.
“Shiron, did you do that to yourself?”
Silence.
The autumn wind blew against her skin, and Fukayasu felt an itch on the back of her neck.
A sigh.
Shiron’s usual gaze had turned grim somewhere along the line.
Then.
“You really see through everything.”
She admitted it.
“Why, did you…”
“You’re always coming to our practices. Surely you know the reason. The drama club has no future.”
Fukayasu considered her childhood friend dearer than anyone, but at that moment, she seemed ever so far away.
“I’d rather die than let people see that garbage performance. A leg is a cheap price to pay,” Shiron spat.
Fukayasu should’ve been well aware by now.
This girl would stop at nothing achieve her goals.
She should’ve been well aware after Shiron had passed the Konohana High School entrance exams.
But she hadn’t been able to face the truth.
“Shiron, that’s not… you can’t just do that.”
It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.
Results weren’t the only important thing when it came to high school clubs.
Clubs were places for individuals with a common goal, where they gathered and toiled and cooperated and marched forward together. Naturally, achieving the goal was ideal, but even if they failed, they accepted the result together. Clubs were places to grow.
“It reaaaaaaaaaaally hurt!”
Shiron wasn’t looking at Fukayasu. She laughed brightly, gesturing grandly with her hands as she talked.
“At first, I was hesitant, and I dropped it from waist high. But my leg didn’t break from that. It hurt a ton, but I could still walk and move properly.”
“Shiron, stop…”
Suddenly, Shiron’s memory broke into Fukayasu’s mind. A torrent of mental images slammed into Fukayasu, who had lost all control of her ability as Shiron’s recollection became her own.
《Late afternoon, in a room dyed red by the setting sun. Beyond the red was black. The metal dumbells she used to lose weight were cold, unbudging, cruel. But their weight was more ruthless than the metal itself. No need to hesitate, no need for delicacy…》
“So I had to drop it from shoulder height instead, right…”
“Stop… I don’t want to hear anymore…”
When Fukayasu had sought help from the witch, she hadn’t known anything. What else to call a girl with superhuman abilities other than ‘witch’?
No doubt, Shiron would have known. She would have known the implications of relying on a witch.
At that moment, the event which had forever changed Shiron’s life surfaced in the recesses of Fukayasu’s mind. The elementary school gymnasium’s lights were all dark, casting the hall in pitch black. The actors shone brilliantly beneath the spotlight on stage. The Little Mermaid.
The little mermaid who saved the prince couldn’t tell him what happened that stormy night.
The little mermaid who’d fallen in love with the prince couldn’t even confess her overflowing emotions.
After all, she had no voice.
In order to obtain feet and discard her life in the sea, she had offered her voice in exchange. The witch demanded her voice, so beautiful that it garnered the envy of the entire world, as compensation for her magic. Every child alive knew how the fairy tale went.
Unable to convey her feelings, unable to return to sea, she could only watch pitifully as time passed, and eventually a beautiful bride-to-be for the prince appeared. The witch then offered two choices to the little mermaid, who was still oblivious to the witch’s true nature.
The first- kill the prince, and in return the witch would give her back her voice and fins, and her life in the sea. Or- give up on everything.
The little mermaid had reached a dead end. Tragedy awaited regardless of which she picked.
Why? What had she done wrong? Why did the world respond to such an innocent, brave girl with merciless brutality? The answer is obvious- because she sought the help of magic.
When the little girl borrowed the witch’s power, her future became muddied.
The witch demanded compensation for her magic. And it wasn’t a price that normal girls could pay.
“I went through all that trouble to destroy our shit performance, and you spoiled all of it.” Shiron glared daggers at Fukayasu.
Fukayasu instinctively drew back.
(□□□□□□□□□□□□)
Shiron’s emotions no longer took the form of words. Only wave after wave of black amplified by Fukayasu’s mind-reading ability, directed at her, and they resonated within her, staining her heart.
Fukayasu was on the verge of tears, half protesting half pleading. More than anything, Fukayasu was devastated by the unwavering corruption in Shiron’s heart.
“Don’t say that. Everyone worked so hard for this.”
“Natsume.” Shiron sounded like she was scolding her. “No one worked hard. Everyone was lazy and no one did anything. Unless you’re telling me everyone worked hard to achieve that shitstorm of a performance.”
Fukayasu understood Shiron’s grievances. She understood them all too well.
Even before she had attained her ability, Fukayasu and Shiron didn’t need words to communicate. So right now, her mind-reading ability, which magnified that to the greatest possible extent, had transformed into a curse.
She wasn’t just hearing Shiron’s thoughts anymore. She was sharing them. Shiron’s thoughts were now Fukayasu’s. Shiron’s pain, her hatred, her grief, all of it, belonged to Fukayasu as well.
The scars and wounds lining her childhood friend’s heart were now carved into her own.
Shiron’s actions were wrong. Fukayasu refused to concede that part of her beliefs.
But due to her ability, Shiron’s feelings resonated with her. Shiron’s agony and resolve were simply too strong, and Fukayasu had no choice but to empathize.
And-
(Now is the time… If there’s a monster like her in the same grade as me, there’s no future for me in acting…)
Resignation poured out of the gaping hole in Shiron’s heart. She was going to quit theater.
“No…” But for Fukayasu, that was something scarier than death. “I don’t want that, Shiron.”
Fukayasu loved the Shiron who chased after her dream. Because of Shiron, who acted recklessly without hesitation, who did whatever she wanted to, who was always there for her, Fukayasu could endure the melancholy of the everyday. However,
(I’m quitting.)
Those words came out quickly and indifferently, without any emotion at all. But those bottled up emotions were violently rampaging inside of Shiron.
“You can’t do that…!” Fukayasu cried in desperation.
“I mean, it’s not like I have a choice… Hey Nacchan, were you trying to help me?”
Shiron was dead serious.
She had gambled everything for theater.
Unlike Shiron, Fukayasu had never devoted herself so zealously to something. She never realized how much it meant, how precious that feeling was- and how much it hurt.
It was like being stabbed with a blade straight through her heart. An onslaught of unbearable pain accompanied by raging flames, tormenting Fukayasu. Invisible blood seeped from her raw, open wounds, drowning her feet in a red, sticky sea.
“Or were you making fun of me?” Shiron forced herself to smile as her eyes brimmed with tears.
They were standing in hell.
The world of the living was being repainted by her blood, by darkness, transforming into hell.
Her wounds created by the curse grew wider and wider as if they wanted to devour the world.
“No! That wasn’t what I was trying to do.”
“Is that so. Nacchan, you’re such a good girl. But you see, I’m a bad girl.”
There was a twinge of self-mockery in her voice.
In that moment, Fukayasu felt herself overcome by a strange sensation, and at the same time, became clearly aware how much she had truly admired Shiron.
She admired Shiron for chasing after her dream despite knowing the difficulties. She was cooler than anyone else Fukayasu knew. But now, her aspirations were gone, smashed into pieces and scattered to the winds. Shiron once had a dream, but all she held now were broken fragments.
Shiron continued on dreamily. “You’re a good girl Nacchan. Don’t talk to me anymore.”
That was the moment that Fukayasu’s world shattered.
Just as she realized how much admired Shiron, she was rejected by that very person, and the pillars supporting Fukayasu’s heart collapsed.
When people act on strong desires, they always end up involving the people around them. Desires and wishes that are too strong frequently end up transforming into curses, contaminating everyone else involved.
A witch’s curse is infectious.
Thus is the magic of a witch.
In this previously stable world, only a single witch existed.
One time, that witch, caught in the midst of the workings of the world, performed magic to fulfill her wish. The world repeated for far beyond what was normal, and as a result, the world became unstable, allowing for the proliferation of curses.
In this unstable world, the oblivious witch wanted to befriend more people and open her heart to others.
When people desire something strongly, they end up involving others, whether they like it or not.
To be befriended by a witch is to be cursed.
And so, the unforgettable curse continued to evolve as it dispersed throughout the world.
6.
On Monday, the second of November, Fukayasu’s luck hit an all time low.
If supernatural beings like prophets or witches really did exist, then they probably would have warned her to stay inside.
(Aizawa’s getting carried away with herself)
(So just because she’s friends with Inaba, she automatically gets to join the our social group?)
It started during break between classes. The two nobility she normally hung out with, Miki and Saki, were acting strange. They’d probably been talking about something idiotic on saturday. Fukayasu cursed her luck. If she’d met them on Sunday, at least she would’ve known what they were planning.
(She’s always so gloomy)
(Just ’cause she looks kinda pretty doesn’t mean…)
Therein lay the problem.
Originally, Aizawa had been the unattainable flower. Anyone who tried talking to her would be met with an unshakeable, cold response. However, to Inaba and Inaba alone, Aizawa showed such a lovely smile that many others couldn’t help but wish that smile was directed at themselves.
But recently, Aizawa had become more approachable. It would’ve been no problem at all had she continued to shut out the rest of the world, but instead, she began to open herself up and interact normally with others. ‘I want her to smile at me like that’- endless numbers of students had approached Aizawa with high hopes, only to have their short-lived fantasies dashed and promptly destroyed. To put it plainly, Aizawa had stolen the spotlight from Saki and Miki.
(What a boring person)
(Are we gonna let her join…?)
(What does Fukayasu think…)
(No way Fukaya’s gonna let someone like that join, right?)
Idiots, both of you, Fukayasu cursed at them silently.
The feeling of emptiness within Fukayasu intensified.
I’m the one who has to suffer!
Aizawa and Inaba were royalty. Making an enemy out of just one of them would make your life hard enough. But the instant you antagonized one, the other automatically became your enemy as well. I can’t do this, Fukayasu groaned internally.
In this place where teenagers undergoing puberty of all backgrounds and philosophies had been gathered, the pit of demons known as a classroom, Fukayasu and the rest of her social group managed to maintain some degree of freedom, to do say what they wanted and do what they wanted to some extent. They were only allowed this freedom because they never broke the peace and followed all the social customs.
This was all common sense to Miki and Saki as well. They knew it as much as Fukayasu did.
However, the two had lost control of their rationality. They were mermaids among fish, and should’ve been able to swim better than anyone else in this water tank known as a classroom, but they forgot their sense of self, and forgot how to swim.
Stop, please, Fukayasu begged inside. I don’t need this on top of Shiron.
“I’m going to talk to Fukayasu-san about saturday,” Aizawa said to Inaba, getting up.
“Ah, I’ll go with you.”
“Oh, sure… thanks.”
Aizawa showed no signs of noticing the strange change. Inaba probably sensed something was off. Which is why she didn’t want to leave Aizawa alone.
Unfortunately, her sweet considerations were meaningless.
Fukayasu and Aizawa’s seats were across the room from each other. Between them were Miki and Saki’s seats. The incident occurred when Aizawa passed through.
(Huh?) Inaba’s internal voice cried out.
Miki thrust her leg out to the side just as Aizawa passed, clearly intent on tripping her. The tips of Miki’s mouth curled upward into a small smile of contempt.
Fukayasu didn’t believe her eyes. You’re acting already!? she wanted to shout. Miki’s solo act may as well have been social suicide. It wasn’t anywhere close to a childish prank. She hadn’t even talked to Fukayasu, who was equal social rank as her, beforehand about her plan.
Watch out! Fukayasu’s voice got caught in her throat as she shot out of her seat. Without any time to react, it was evident that Aizawa was going to fall. But Fukayasu could try to cushion the fall, or something, anything! In that frantic millisecond, she met eyes with Aizawa. Or perhaps that was only her imagination
And then, an unimaginable deviation followed.
Aizawa, her emotionless expression personifying the definition of ruthlessness, stepped on Miki’s leg, trampling it. The ice queen didn’t falter for one second, her frosty eyes not even bothering to look as if Miki was nothing to her.
Miki shrieked in pain.
The entire class turned to look.
Her shriek reverberated through the room, opening a massive hole in the bustling, rowdy conversations of break.
(Huh? What was that? Who just screamed?)
(Miki-san? That was her just now)
(What just happened?)
Miki’s body was stooped over and she clutched her leg in pain, her head tilted upwards towards Aizawa. She almost looked like a pitiful slave dangling her head submissively as she quickly averted her eyes.
“What… the heck.”
“Sorry. You stuck your leg out so suddenly I didn’t have time to react, and ended up stepping on it.” There wasn’t an ounce of emotion in her voice.
The temperature seemed to drop several degrees at once. Miki’s back began to tremble. She shivered, as if her spine had been replaced with ice and it was costing her entire force of will to stop herself from breaking out into uncontrollable shaking.
Fukayasu had witnessed the whole thing from beginning to end. Just before Miki had put her leg out, Aizawa had changed her pace. It was… almost like she’d known her classmate would try and trip her, and she’d deliberately stomped on her leg.
“Don’t pull that crap with me.”
“I apologized, didn’t I?”
Obviously, Aizawa’s apology was just lip service.
“Apologize-“
“You’re really going to drag this on? Are you stupid? Despite the fact that you tried to stick out your leg and trip me? What is this, elementary school?”
“Why-“
“‘Why would I try and trip you?’ Obviously because you don’t like me. That much is clear. If you’re so eager to declare war, that’s fine with me. Let’s get on with it.”
Finally, Miki broke in the face of Aizawa’s threats. She began to shake uncontrollably.
Fukayasu didn’t understand.
She couldn’t fathom it.
Why?
What had prompted the ever-quiet Aizawa to murder Miki in cold blood?
“Ayaka, isn’t that enough? You shouldn’t do stuff like this.”
“…”
Eventually, at Inaba’s chiding, Aizawa released her captured prey. Miki and Saki’s glowered at Aizawa’s back as she walked towards Fukayasu’s desk.
Her approaching silhouette blurred. She didn’t look human. Her figure seemed to swell ominously. What was she thinking?
(Ayaka’s, angry…?)
Inaba’s puzzled voice. Aizawa’s cold expression. The mind-reader extended her reach, peering into what lay on the other side of Aizawa’s exterior- but stopped herself a fraction of a second before. Her power didn’t simply read minds. It amplified thoughts, feelings, whatever lay in others’ hearts. If she ventured into Aizawa’s and stirred up whatever lay inside of her, Fukayasu wasn’t positive she would emerge unscathed. In fact, she was almost certain that she wouldn’t be able to bear it. It was an animalistic instinct that warned her against it.
Let sleeping gods lie. Dare not to wake her. Dare not to speak of her existence. Even looking at her the wrong way was forbidden. Poking fun at her was taboo. So Fukayasu divulging the contents of Aizawa’s heart wasn’t simply about breaking a rule. It was about avoiding her utter ruin
The witch who had saved the drama club stood directly in front of Fukayasu.
Panic numbed Fukayasu’s mind, and words refused to form.
She stiffened and her pulse quickened. Aizawa, who Miki and Saki were staring daggers at, was at point-blank range. Fukayasu tried opening her mouth. You’re kidding me, Fukayasu thought, realizing her predicament. Her head spun. Forgive me. Please let me go. I’ve suffered enough already.
“Hey, Fukayasu-san, about saturday.”
Sounds came out of Aizawa’s mouth, but it took Fukayasu more than half a minute to understand that they were words. Why did she have to choose this particular moment to talk to me? she lamented. Her throat was dry, incapable of producing noise.
The two glares from far away condemned Fukayasu.
You’re going to talk to her? their stares screamed harshly. As if they were testing her loyalty.
The entire class waited with bated breath for Fukayasu’s next move.
After class, Inaba, bringing up some arbitrary reason, promptly told Aizawa to go home ahead of her. It was a cruel move. Just from watching, Fukayasu could see Aizawa’s shoulders droop, and it was at times like these that she looked like an ordinary high school girl.
Normally, Fukayasu would never have directly confronted Inaba. In front of others, the two might pretend to get along and talk pleasantly between themselves, but the familiarity that should’ve existed between them was missing.
They were in the hallway leading towards the gymnasium.
(…)
“Even I know something has to be done.”
Before Inaba could say anything, Fukayasu beat her to the punch. Obviously, Fukayasu was talking about the entire stability of the classroom hierarchy. And with just one glance at Inaba, it was clear what she wanted say as well.
“Can you talk to Miki-chan and Saki-chan about it?” Inaba got straight to the point.
“Can’t you do it?” Fukayasu hadn’t intended on sounding so dismissive, and she was taken aback at herself.
However.
“I feel like that might have the opposite effect… you know.”
Fukayasu reevaluated her impression of Inaba, viewing her with a newfound sense of respect. Without a shred of agitation, Inaba parried Fukayasu’s provocation.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Inaba was far too close to Aizawa. It’d be impossible for her to mediate as a third party.
No matter what Inaba said, Miki and Saki would assume her words came from Aizawa.
(…)
“But did something happen to Aizawa? She acted pretty uncharacteristically today.”
“Ayaka’s always been like that.”
Was Inaba telling the truth? Fukayasu thought about Inaba’s claim, only to be met with a small feeling that something was out of place.
(……)
Reflexively, she used her ability, reaching out to pick out any words from Inaba’s heart.
(…………)
Inaba? Her doubts grew, quickly becoming certainty. To prove that certainty beyond a doubt, Fukayasu chose to remain silent.
(……………………)
It was a clash of wills. Like the game children played, where they stuck their head underwater at the same time, and the first to take it out lost. The more time passed, the more certain Fukayasu was.
So Inaba, you’re not thinking about anything? Why not?
“I took her to be more mild-tempered.”
Fukayasu’s tone came out extremely flat. She was truly a terrible actor. No wonder Shiron never invited me to join the drama club, she thought half-jokingly.
That was when Inaba’s concentration faltered. For a brief moment, Fukayasu heard Inaba’s alarmed voice loud and clear.
(…crap! I lost focus!)
Caught you. This was definitive proof that Inaba was deliberately thinking about nothing.
There was no need to wonder or theorize about why. It was simply because Inaba knew her thoughts were being read, and she had something that she didn’t want others to hear.
“She’s just not used to people, so she can be a bit socially awkward.”
“You call that awkward? She was straight up scary.”
What was those two’s deal anyway?
They both knew things they shouldn’t have known.
Somehow, Aizawa had known. She had known about Miki’s cowardly tactic beforehand, about her intentions on tripping her. She had known, but she hadn’t backed down. She’d returned the favor head on.
That was probably because Aizawa didn’t have much experience in social groups. She likely wasn’t aware that there were other ways of combating these situations, other than the most obvious and direct approach.
Ah. Okay, fair enough. She was certainly socially awkward.
But knowing that, Fukayasu couldn’t help but wonder, why?
Why hadn’t she quietly dealt with it?
Why couldn’t she just avoid Miki’s leg? Aizawa wasn’t an idiot. One glare from Aizawa and Miki would’ve been just as terrified. She probably wouldn’t dare attempt something like that again.
“Hey, Natsume-chan. Please, help me.”
The one talking was a person resembling the Inaba that Fukayasu knew. Her head was bent downward pleadingly, her voice honest without any vanity or pride. She had thrown away her dignity for the sake of Aizawa, who knew neither restraint nor sociability.
“Why is it always…?” Fukayasu heard herself begin.
(…?)
Fukayasu hated it.
“Is she that special? Why is everyone so obsessed with Aizawa?”
“…”
(Huh? Natsume-chan? Why does Natsume-chan care about that?)
Everything that had been contained within herself finally came bursting out.
“It’s always the same thing, over and over and over. Everyone only acts for their own convenience. I’m sick of it.”
She remembered her mother. Her parent who continued to selfishly nudge Fukayasu towards an arbitrary future without considering her daughter’s feelings.
She remembered Shiron. Her childhood friend who, in a fit of stubborn obsession, tried to destroy her entire club because her ego was too big to handle reality.
And now, Inaba, standing before her. Her friend who was pushing her to solve a problem that Fukayasu wasn’t even part of, never wondering if Fukayasu might be against it.
“What if I don’t want to, huh? You want me to tell Miki and Saki restrain themselves, right? All for Aizawa’s sake. Well I really don’t fucking want to.”
Inaba surely didn’t expect to be rejected so forthrightly. Her face hardened and her fake smile collapsed. Fukayasu had never seen this warped side of her classmate before.
You might be royalty who has everyone answering at your beck and call for your every whim, but don’t send your dirty work to me.
Fukayasu silently prayed as she glared at Inaba.
(Natsume-chan. Why… At this rate, Ayaka really will…)
Again, with Aizawa.
Was she really that important?
A scornful laugh bubbled past Fukayasu’s lips. She had grasped her enemy’s weakness.
“Got it? It’s not my problem. Miki and Saki and Aizawa can continue to fight for all I care.”
(But that’s… it’s not your problem?)
Fukayasu had no intention to mediate. Whichever side won or lost, she watch until the end as a spectator.
“Natsume-chan, please reconsider? You don’t hate Ayaka, do you?”
“You’re acting quite out of character, Inaba.”
Fukayasu said, cutting off Inaba’s plead.
The current Inaba was far too removed from the friend that Fukayasu knew and talked with on a daily basis.
“So are you, Natsume-chan. You sound so childish. Did you always hate her?”
“Fuck off!”
Inaba tried to approach her, but Fukayasu forcefully shook off her arm.
She probably never imagined in her wildest dreams that Fukayasu would raise a hand against her. Letting out a short yelp, Inaba stumbled backwards- if only she’d been knocked down and fallen flat on her back- instead, she stumbled directly towards the concrete steps. Carried by inertia, her body fell precariously backwards. Cold, unforgiving right angles made of concrete awaited her, ready to impale her head. Fukayasu’s heart stopped cold, assaulted by an abnormal pain, while blood rushed throughout her body, agitating every inch of her fiber.
Yet.
There, a small shadowy figure flew towards the bottom of the staircase.
Aizawa caught Inaba’s fall. Well, more accurately, she intercepted it. They were both knocked down, falling flat on their back. It was an awful situation, butt the worst case scenario had been avoided.
“Fukayasu-san.”
The calm, even voice that echoed from below pierced Fukayasu.
It was quiet, transparent, and filled with clear murderous impulse.
-Making an enemy out of just one of them would make your life hard enough. But the instant you antagonized one, the other automatically became your enemy as well.
Two figures collapsed onto the ground as if they were grovelling, and Fukayasu was standing fully upright on her two legs. But in reality, their positions were quite the opposite. Fukayasu had come dangerously close to accidentally killing Inaba. Though she might’ve been standing, her heart was prostrating on the ground. She wouldn’t even have thought it strange if Aizawa walked up to her and murdered her right there and then.
That’s why Fukayasu couldn’t help but feel curious. What was Aizawa thinking right now?
Obviously, nothing favorable. But exactly how much animosity did she harbor? Nothing was more important to Fukayasu than finding out. In a moment of carelessness, she listened for Aizawa’s voice, a mistake that she’d regret for a long time to come.
《Black》
Before she could react, Fukayasu was buffeted by a mudslide of thick, viscous emotions.
《An unfamiliar place. A huge building. Mental images will teach you. Playground. Unfamiliar children. They were my friends. ‘Disgusting…’ wasn’t chosen and became nothing》
Aizawa wasn’t focused on anything. Huge swathes of memories rushed forth.
《An unfamiliar house. A huge house and beautiful furniture. Adults. They wanted me to understand. ‘You’re a witch.’ That was chosen. The huge empty hole in my heart. Scars that never healed. Numerous nights spent nursing old painful wounds and crying》
Everything was in vivid detail, as if she was experiencing it firsthand.
《Every place and time, no matter how many times i repeat, the end result never changes. A precious person. A person who disappeared. Alone in the depths of hell. Someone came to save me. Powerless. Fed up with everything, but unable to abandon anything. Millions of yesterdays, and the knife’s tip. Lightning. Someone’s kind voice》
Crumbling vestiges of memories, almost like Aizawa herself had forgotten them.
Like a dream from the night before, which slowly slipped out of your grasp as the day progressed until it became no more.
Fukayasu resisted the urge to vomit as she drowned in regret. She had looked at something that never should have been seen.
Fukayasu’s tiny, innocent heart was a small boat in the middle a storm, rocking dangerously as wave after wave of black emotion bursting forth from the girl in front of her assailed it. In an instant, the black images devoured every nook and cranny of Fukayasu’s mind and dignity. Without a chance to resist, the small boat was swept away by the looming waves and sunk beneath the ocean’s surface.
《She died. My precious person died. Reduced to a meaningless corpse, but her heart doesn’t move. I should be sad, but I’m not crying. She died again. Endlessly dying. Watching until it makes me sick, the outcome never changing no matter what method I try, continuing to run towards the depths of hell. Continuing to struggle and writhe.
-Why do I have to suffer this!
The tip of the fruit knife. sharp, comforting, preparing the next iteration. Despair, and despair, and despair, nowhere to run, powerless, with no choice but to repeat, repeating again, repeating and repeating, with no end in sight》
In the face of the raging storm of desepair and abhorrence, Fukayasu’s mind was paralyzed, like it had sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
The life and oxygen was choked out of her, in the dark depths that marked her grave. Fukayasu turned her back and ran.
Her heart was a chaotic mess. But it was nowhere near that black storm.
She averted her eyes because she couldn’t understand the reality sitting in front of her.
Before today, Fukayasu was sure that she had Inaba figured out. The calm, composed Inaba who could get along with anyone. But when tensions flared and a small dispute arose, the peace-loving Inaba somehow ended up as her enemy. What the hell did I do? I should’ve known better. Fukayasu hated herself.
But even more importantly, what the hell was going on right now?
She got into a small dispute with her quiet, docile classmate. And when she tried to peer into her heart, she found a monster staring back. Who would’ve guessed that beneath Aizawa’s innocent face lived a horrifying beast.
What the hell is this.
What the hell is this!
One week ago, the ‘How-Why’ incident had occurred.
Thinking back now, that seemed like forever ago.
At that time, Aizawa had internally defended herself against the accusations. ‘It’s not my fault. I have nothing to do with her inability to score perfectly’- was it?
The realization left Fukayasu reeling in shock.
No, Aizawa Ayaka, you’re wrong. It was your fault.
You didn’t notice, but the teachers wanted to prevent you from achieving a perfect score, so they intentionally made the test harder. In an attempt to minimize the effect on the average, the very last question of the test had been an extremely difficult problem pulled from a private university’s previous exam. That’s why no one scored full marks. Except you.
You probably didn’t even notice it.
Trivial matters like the difficulty of test questions didn’t weigh on the mind of someone like Aizawa. For her, tests were routine chores, nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
What did it matter if the high jump bar was 1.7 meters high or 1.6 meters high if you were tall enough to easily step over a 2 meter bar?
Unfortunately, everything has consequences.
As a result of achieving perfect score after perfect score, she robbed the self-confidence away from all the diligent prodigies studying day and night for that coveted perfect score.
What good does studying do in the face of a test created for the sole purpose of ensuring no one can score perfectly? Like a natural disaster, one single girl- a witch, had bent reality with her black magic.
Witches in old tales called down plagues, caused wars, and ruined harvests.
They made milk spoil, compelled children to lie, and made tests more difficult.
Her presence alone scattered curses everywhere.
Fukayasu was nobility, which meant she was strong. That was her assessment of herself. She wasn’t exactly wrong. She was half-correct. Being nobility didn’t make her any less prone to curses. When all was said and done, she wasn’t so strong after all.
Fukayasu didn’t attend class the next day.
When she thought about going to school, her stomach hurt and she couldn’t take a single step past the door.
After resting for half the day, she went to see a doctor but he didn’t find anything wrong. She spent the rest of the day lying in bed. In an attempt to find something to do, Fukayasu browsed her phone, but shadows of her friends followed her everywhere, appearing in social media posts and direct messages. The normal workings of mundane life were all too bright for Fukayasu, drowning herself in self-loathing.
The next day was the same. Though she didn’t go the doctor this time.
It probably didn’t have anything to do with the lack of a doctor visit, but that was when the abnormality manifested.
She began to hear the thoughts of complete strangers throughout the town, and they refused to quiet down. Her curse didn’t give her a moment of peace.
(This month, we sold XXXX products, so next month, we will buy-“
(Woah woah woah woah woah, someone dropped their wallet… Huh huh huh huh? There’s ten thousand yen bills in here!)
(Ribs, roast beef, tongue, tripe, horse meat, and then, and then… I’m drooling already…)
She couldn’t sleep.
When she closed her eyes, she was forced to listen to mind-numbingly boring profit and supply calculations, compelled to stand by idly as a thief got away because some idiot had dropped their wallet, and on top of that, she had no choice but to imagine the delicious aroma of roasting meat and sweet sauce.
The cacophony of voices and their shared senses meant that Fukayasu wasn’t allowed to get a wink of sleep. Naturally. Because there was always someone awake in the town doing something.
Her curse which let her read others’ thoughts had grown disproportionately large, threatening to devour her entirely.
She couldn’t ask anyone for help. All she could do was silently bear it alone.
On Thursday, she tried going to school but again, her stomach started hurting like hell, and that was when Fukayasu’s mother became flustered. She made an appointment with a faraway hospital, and drove Fukayasu there at once.
Fukayasu watched videos in the waiting room while she continued to hurt inside, alone.
Life would continue even without her.
The world didn’t change if one person went missing, no matter who they were. The world would feign indifference and move on. There was nothing Fukayasu could do. In the past, Fukayasu had puzzled over that cruelty, that coldness, that mercilessness.
How had it come to this?
If she could return to the past, she would make sure everything went well. If only. If only she could get just one chance to correct everything.
“Is there something about school you don’t like?” Her mother asked anxiously on the way back, gripping the wheel. Her mother was concerned for her. That was Fukayasu’s only saving grace, and she clung to it tightly.
Fukayasau, sunk deep into her seat, answered. “That’s not it. More like, I had a fight with my friend. Something like that.”
That definitely counted as something she didn’t like. Coming to the realization, Fukayasu smiled bitterly.
“Then apologize before you make things worse.”
“What if it’s not my fault?” Fukayasu asked her mother, who had half her attention on driving.
“Doesn’t matter. But don’t apologize if you think your opinion matters more than your friend’s.”
Her mother’s words left no room for lies.
Fukayasu thought back to Shiron’s right leg. Shiron had made the wrong decision. Fukaysu was convinced. Shiron was wrong, and she was right.
But, Shiron was also an irreplaceable existence in her life. She was more precious than anyone else, which was precisely why Fukayasu couldn’t overlook the fact that she had harmed herself. For that reason, Fukayasu would not apologize to Shiron. She had made up her mind already. If Shiron never wanted to to speak to her again, that was her problem. Shiron was in the wrong. So if anything, Shiron should be the one apologizing. Now that she’d clearly put her feelings into thoughts, Fukayasu felt a heavy weight lift from her chest.
I’ll apologize to Inaba. And Aizawa. And I’ll forget about the black memories I glimpsed at that time.
“Thanks, mama.”
Fukayasu felt refreshed. She felt perfectly normal, in fact. She had a feeling that everything would go her way starting from now.
“Mama, is being a hair stylist really that bad?”
Fukayasu followed that feeling faithfully.
“It’s a difficult path. As your mama, I didn’t want to see you suffer.”
“I know, Mama, but…”
But it’s my dream. I don’t want to live an easy life. But simultaneously, Fukayasu was reluctant to say it out loud. The girl who could read minds understood what that would entail. After all, once she said it, she could never take it back.
“I know, Mama…”
Therefore, she stopped there.
Her mother stayed silent, and Fukayasu tensed. Not that she was expecting a quick, favorable answer. However, the silence stretched on. So long that she couldn’t bear the tension anymore.
Then, she heard a voice.
(Why is she so obsessed with hair styling? I always thought she was a reasonable child)
Wasn’t it only natural for children to wish for their parents’ support in pursuing their dream?
And for parents, shouldn’t they-
“Why can’t you support what I want to do…”
Wasn’t she allowed to ask for something that should’ve been obvious?
It was a bitter realization that she had to go this far and plead for something that should’ve been a given, and her words came out in a garbled mess.
“Please, I’m begging you, Mama…”
Fukayasu pleaded while tears streamed down her face in an overwhelming display of emotion. How could a mother not be moved at the sight of her admirable daughter who held such great hopes for the future? In this case, words were power. And deriving from the same emotion, one other power was rearing its head…
(How do I convince her to give up on her silly idea? Is it even possible?)
The power of a witch’s curse.
The mind-reading witch, whose power had grown completely out of control, had gained the ability to affect the hearts of others. Unbeknownst to even Fukayasu, the curse had festered and developed within her, and the tendrils of its influence eventually made their way into the outside world.
(If she’s so fixated on it, maybe I should just let her do what she wants?)
Every word of her mother’s thoughts was clearly audible to Fukayasu. Her mother’s firm resolution against Fukayasu’s plans for the future was rapidly melting. Or more precisely, without the girl herself even realizing it, Fukayasu’s power was melting away her mother’s resolve and shaping it into her own desire.
“Of course I’ll support you.”
(I’m her mother, so of course I’ll support her dream.)
The mind-reading witch grew, and acquired black magic that allowed her to control the hearts of others. She could rob others of their free will- no, even worse- she could overwrite it entirely. And without being aware of it, she had used that power.
Only now, when it was too late to do anything, did she finally realize. Fukayasu’s greatest desire was forever destroyed.
All she had wanted was for her mother to voluntarily support her dream, and now, that desire would never come to pass. When she understood what she’d done, Fukayasu wanted to scream.
When they arrived home and Fukayasu got out of the car, the sun was already halfway below the horizon. Fukayasu didn’t enter her house, but began to wander aimlessly away from her home, her legs wobbling unsteadily beneath her. Her legs moved, but she didn’t know where they were taking her. At some point, she realized she was searching for the path from school that she had once shared with her childhood friend. Her pace quickened. She walked past scenes of mundane life one after another, and one after another they all disappeared behind her.
The only thing clear to her were the thoughts of others, and they all announced to her that she didn’t belong anywhere in this world.
(After I clean the bath, I have to take Coco-chan for a walk, then I have to go shopping…)
(I’m freezing! I forgot to close my window before sleeping yesterday. I’m so dumb…)
Fukayasu was aware of someone fretting about walking their dog, and at the same time, that someone had caught a cold.
And then.
She should’ve been far, far away already, but Fukayasu heard the voice of her mother at home. Her developed curse conveyed to Fukayasu the voice that she least wanted to hear.
(Oh dear, what was I being so stubborn for? A child’s life is theirs to decide. …I have to support her)
Fukayasu couldn’t bear to witness the reality that she’d forced onto her mother.
-You’re so annoying! Shut up!!
The witch who could control hearts screamed, and the screamed was heard by the heavens. It was a magic that she put every ounce of her being into.
Immediately, the voices all stopped, and she was greeted by a painful, deathly silence.
The town, tinged orange from the setting sun, said nothing.
The loud, annoying voices that never ended had perfectly and neatly disappeared.
Fukayasu realized she was standing on top of the hill. The overlooking hill where she could see the entire town in one look, where Shiron had once proclaimed her grand plan for the future, and now Fukayasu was standing her utterly alone. She couldn’t see a single other person. It was like the world had been destroyed, and she was witnessing the aftermath. As she began to settle into deep thought-
“Nacchan!”
Shiron’s voice called out from behind her.
Fukayasu turned around. Along with Shiron, there was the witch herself, Aizawa Ayaka.
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