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---

"But, do they have copy machines at the hospital-ssu?"
"Nah, I'll use the one at the convenience store. I go out often anyway, for walks and stuff. I'll print them next time I go, and when I'm done, I'll leave them with Itsuki."
*Does copying these even make sense, though?*
"It doesn't have to be Itsuki, you could just give them to me when I visit, couldn't you-ssu?"
Nagase's voice and attitude clearly asserted this as the obvious choice.
I lifted my gaze from the notebook and told Nagase something I'd forgotten until this very moment.
"Actually, Nagase-san—" "Ah, yeah, yeah, I get it-ssu. You mean 'don't come back,' right-ssu?"
"...?"
*She understands way too quickly.* Nagase's jaded attitude.
"You catch on fast."
"Given the current flow, if Tooru was going to start off sounding all deferential like that, it could only mean that-ssu."
*She saw right through me, from point one to three-point-eight. I realized anything else I said would just sound like an excuse, so I decided that wouldn't do and unleashed a flood of words upon Nagase. Just kidding, though.*
Without looking up, I dropped my eyes back to the notebook.
If I calmed down and tried to decipher it, it was easier to read than classical Chinese, being just a matter of grammar. However, I really wished she'd made it possible to distinguish between 'ro' [ろ] and '3'. Also, her handwriting was *too* skillful, making it impossible to differentiate 'kin' [金] and 'zen' [全].
...? Hm? What's this?
I paused my hand that had been flipping through and skimming the pages to stare at what was drawn there. It was cryptic. Could I really copy this? She wouldn't sue me for copyright infringement, would she?
Asking the author seemed like the quickest route.
"Nagase, about this..." "What is it?"
"Well, this doodle of a pretty boy with the outline of a sea slug."
I grabbed the top of the notebook and thrust it in front of her face so she could see it easily.
"...Ah, uah, au."
Hm? Something's wrong with Nagase... Huh, her lips are trembling. She blew right past pale and turned more purple than a sweet potato skin. And then,
"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"
A shriek loud enough to be a nuisance even in a karaoke bar, let alone a hospital, erupted from Nagase's throat.
"Get back!"
Along with a cry like the title of a Beatles song, the notebook was snatched away from me (I'm probably misusing that verb). Then, with rough hands, she started flipping through the pages, censoring the contents. Her eyeballs darted vertically and horizontally at a speed far surpassing any normal person, rapidly becoming bloodshot. *Quite the hot-blooded type,* I observed nonchalantly.
Eventually, Nagase fell off the chair and knelt on the floor. Curling her body as if to protect the notebook, she overturned her pencil case and equipped a small eraser. Doesn't look like her Luck stat increased or anything.
"Just wait! Wait a sec-ssu!"
She was desperate, her eyes welling up with tears.
*That look isn't half bad either,* but if I were to declare such a thing aloud, she'd likely extend my hospital stay by three weeks, so I quietly devoted myself to observing Nagase.
Like a high school girl demonstrating how to scrub floors, she got on all fours and frantically rubbed the eraser with enough force to tear the pages apart, obliterating the shameful parts. Each time her arms pumped violently up and down, Nagase's skirt-covered rear end moved up and down too. *Not sexy at all,* I felt, but the high school kid sharing my room was getting visibly excited watching the spectacle. Watarai-san, too, must have been woken by Nagase's scream; he rolled over, turned towards us, and was now staring at the high school girl's antics with a mixture of astonishment. *Wonder if it'll make a good souvenir for the afterlife.*

Oblivious to such lecherous gazes, Nagase continued her work single-mindedly. She was just about finishing the second notebook now. *Man, I really keep causing Nagase trouble in all sorts of ways.* I swore anew to maintain an admirable attitude towards her. *Well, that's a lie, though.*
A short while later, the deletions were complete. After gathering the contents of her pencil case, Nagase returned to the chair, wiped the sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief, and panted, her shoulders heaving.
"Evil has perished-ssu."
*The notebook looks like it's about to perish too. She's like one of those heroes of justice rampaging through the city.*
I formally accepted the college notebooks, which now looked more destined for recycling than a copy machine, and shoved them into the locker. As an aside, the manga I borrowed from Koibi-sensei (or maybe she gave them to me, which was it?) are bulky and a pain to store. I've managed by unofficially borrowing half the shelf space in Mayu's private room.
"Well then, I shall take my leave-ssu." Clutching her shoes to her chest, spurred on by shame, Nagase decided to make her exit.
"I'm too embarrassed to ever come back here-ssu."
*Inside, I felt the opposite of "That's too bad."*
With her innate clumsiness and hastily manufactured impatience, Nagase repeatedly banged the folding chair against her own knees while closing it. She then tossed the chair against the wall as carelessly as throwing a bag at a garbage dump, and looked down at me.
"...Uh, take care on your way." Guessing she might be waiting for a farewell from me, I tried saying it with a little wave.
Nagase just stared in silence, the muscles in her face remaining tense.
"Bye-bye-germs. Goodbye teacher, goodbye everyone. Stay healthy. Arrivederci. Se deshita. Hello world, nice to meet you, my place."
I employed every greeting I had learned in my eighteen years of life (though, since I took a year off elementary school, I'm actually still a second-year high school student) as a parting gift for Nagase. However, it was like water off a duck's back to her; she remained unresponsive. She wasn't even blinking much.
*This is awkward. If she doesn't get exasperated or angry, there was no point in saying all that.*
"What's wrong?" Reluctantly, I feigned seriousness. Specifically, I leaned forward slightly, tensed the corners of my mouth, and tucked my chin.
Nagase wiped the sweat from her neck and, while she was at it, scratched her scalp with her index finger. "I was just debating whether to say it or not-ssu."
"Yeah? Say what?"
"Can I complain about one thing?" Her dry tone of voice and gaze evaporated the sweat on my brow. "Sure," I prompted her to continue.
In a flat tone, Nagase spun her attack towards me.
"Deceiving Maa-chan makes you a coward, Tooru."
With a farewell I'd never learned, Nagase departed, her steps light only at the very end.
She didn't look back at me, the high schooler, or Watarai-san seeing her off; the door was closed behind her back.

"Must be nice having so many visitors, eh?" Watarai-san spoke to me, a sarcastic smile on his face. Come to think of it, the scene of a guest visiting Watarai-san had never once occurred in this hospital room.

Faced with someone like that, my clumsy common sense prevented me from replying with something like, "Yeah, it's actually kind of a hassle," leaving me only able to say, "Yeah, I guess so." Watarai-san coughed, spraying spit, muttered, "Tired... feel like I'm gonna die," and became one with his futon. He was the type of person who burrowed completely under the covers, head and all, to sleep.
"Hey, which one's your main girl? Wouldn't it be better to hand that Mayu-chan kid over to me before it turns into a bloodbath?"
I ignored the high schooler's opinion and gazed out the window.
Only withered trees; no sign of the old man trying to make flowers bloom. Or rather, night's curtain was already beginning to fall, making it impossible to even half-enjoy the desolate winter scenery.
I chewed over the string of words Nagase had left behind.
*Deceiving Maa-chan. Hmph.*
*Tooru is a coward. Heh.*
"...That's not quite right."
*Gotta correct the linguistic corruption of the youth.*
*I wish to submit a correction.*
*Tooru is a* **coward (okubyoumono)**,
*and* **Mii-kun** *is the* **despicable one (hikyousha)**.
I could feel my energy draining every time I encountered Nagase, but I couldn't afford to just lie down now.
Because I had to go pick up Mayu, who I'd left entirely in Natsuki-san's care.
And so, less than ten minutes after Nagase left the room, I too had flown the nest of my bed.

*Exit, hallway. Move, hospital room. Must execute 'separate Mayu' immediately.*
Feeling like I'd become a pixel art character, I proceeded down the hallway at my own pace, *tekko tekko*. The hallway was brightly lit by electric lights, as if defying the night. But the winter chill, cold enough to chap your nose and cheeks, adapted to both light and darkness, stubbornly lingering there. Still, maybe it was better than summer. Swallowing saliva to soothe my dry, stinging throat, I climbed the stairs. My room was on the second floor, while Mayu's room was on the third floor of the private room wing, positioned with consideration for the view. It was quite a distance, a painful journey for my hand.
When she was first hospitalized, Mayu, based on her own common sense, proposed that we stay in the same room. Unfortunately, however, in a hospital in a regional town like this, demand for two-person rooms was low, gender equality wasn't exactly a priority for room assignments, and so they didn't exist. Therefore, Mayu presented her second choice: "Let's live together in a private room!" It wasn't a bad proposition for me either, but I refused using every excuse I could think of.
It wasn't that I demanded Mayu adhere to conventional common sense; in fact, I welcomed that sort of uninhibited part of her. I simply didn't want to steadily proceed down the path of becoming Mayu's kept man (himo). *That shouldn't be a lie.*
In the end, I settled the matter by promising Mayu we'd fulfill one promise after being discharged. Thinking about that, I realized I could no longer instantly recall the formula for the volume of a cylinder. *Is my brain getting seriously decrepit?* I couldn't even recite Pi past four decimal places anymore.
Just as I was feeling slightly concerned that my own cranial components were earning the brainless and witless titles of "shoddy" or "clunker," something went *lick* and traced its way across— *wh-whoa* — my cheek.

Before goosebumps even had a chance to form, I let out a scream about five hundred times more deformed than 'Ciao, sorella!' and collapsed, my legs giving out. I dropped my crutches and fell gracelessly, painfully slamming the right side of my body against the wall.
"My oh my, what a surpri~se."
*Don't steal my line and twist it into something cheerful!*
As if crushing the belatedly appearing goosebumps, my upper arm was grabbed, and I was pulled up. My helper was the nurse in her late twenties who was strict about picky eating and leftovers. It must have been her long tongue, flicking *chiro-chiro* like a reptile's, that had slithered across my cheek.
She picked up the crutches lying on the floor and handed them to me. Then she brushed my shoulder three times and gave me a business smile.
"Is there anywhere else that itches, sir?" "Please scratch your *own* head raw."
The nurse's features relaxed into a silly grin (herapera), paying no more attention to my words than to her daily breathing, and commented, "Full of energy, aren't we?" She probably planned to respond that way no matter what I said.
"...So, what the hell did you think you were doing, ma'am?"
"Dinner's ready! That was Nurse Kangochi's full-throttle maternal message, conveyed with all her might through physical contact."
"...I will refrain from commenting."
But this person was an exception: fluent in Japanese, yet her brain was just as flimsy (pera-pera), incapable of understanding anyone else's Japanese. There are two kinds of people in this world: those who understand Japanese, and those who don't.
"Sorry, sorry. I figured you'd just scream at most. Your leg and stuff, okay?"
"Yeah, probably." I'd fallen in a way that made it a miracle my left ankle wasn't sprained, but aside from being accosted and sexually harassed by the nurse, thankfully, no parts of me were actively registering pain.
The nurse tapped her forehead *kotsun* and stuck out her tongue mischievously. "Ge heh."
"That way of laughing is wrong, but it suits you way too well."
"Oh, was it wrong? Young people are so complicated. Okay then, Aheh." "That suits you even more." *This woman seems like the type who'd be friends with a hallucination or two.*
Between the doctor, Natsuki-san, and now her... what kind of education did the generation above us receive in this town? Did they try to start a training program for Rakugo storytellers and have it fall through?
This nurse is dressed up in her uniform without needing cosplay, but usually, she doesn't wear her cap on her head. She only puts it on when she spots other nurses or doctors appearing. She's no different from a high schooler trying to dodge the teacher's dress code check. Right now, she's wearing it like a slightly askew wig because a doctor is walking onto the staircase, and she's watching him. Once she confirms he's passed, she rolls up the cap, stuffs it in her pocket, and combs her hair with her fingers. Her attachment to her hairstyle seems to be the reason she dislikes the cap. I don't have deep knowledge regarding hair, so I can't give the official noun for the style her hair weaves. Therefore, I've dubbed it the "Nurse Cut." Kind of like a Techno Cut.

"By the way, *Atashi* knows your secrets from one to a thousand, y'knowww."
*I don't have that many.*
The nurse's index finger twirled clockwise in front of my face. I decided to counter.
"I know *your* secrets and mysteries too, y'knowww."
*It's true, though... Man, how sketchy does that sound.*
My outstretched index finger did its best to twirl counter-clockwise. *Someone give me motion sickness medicine.*
"You were putting dibs on Itsuki this afternoon, weren'tcha? I saw the whole thing, yes I did, the gallant figure of Mr. Hikaru Genji! Was it a bottle keep? A reverse nomination?"
"Itsuki?... Ah." My index finger paused momentarily at hearing an acquaintance's name from someone who seemed to have no connection to her. But even with a work ethic that reeked of operating without a license, she *was* technically a nurse. Guess she'd know patient names.
"You watched the whole thing while skipping work?"
"Nuh-uh, I watched from outside the window while on the job."
*Itsuki's room is on the third floor, though.*
"Is your job description 'act like an alien'?"
"How rude! How dare you mock *moi*, you who wrote 'May the taste of colored chicks improve' on a Tanabata strip!"
"Don't fabricate things! Besides—" "Ah, by the way, about that Itsuki..."
*Cut off again.* Is being self-centered part of the general education for residents of this town, like this instance and that other one?
"Itsuki's like, a student at the dojo my old man runs? Well, to put it plainly, that makes her *Atachi's* disciple."
*Feels like besides 'putting it plainly,' she also omitted the hierarchy.*
We stopped the circular finger motions simultaneously.
"So what kinda relationship do you have with Itsuki?"
"The same kind of relationship as you and me." *'Pale crimson strangers,' so to speak.*
"Hmm. Well, maybe you know, but Itsuki's a scaredy-cat, see? Ever since Nawa disappeared, she apparently hates sleeping with the lights off. Why don't you sleep with her?"
"Nawa?" I ignored the last suggestion.
"The girl who disappeared. Nawa Mitsuaki."
"Wonder where she is and what she's doing now. Tch, and her injuries hadn't even healed yet." She snorted discontentedly, and for the first time, her usually slack face tightened. Seeing that expression, my opinion of her improved slightly.
"Nurse-san, what's your take on this current matter?" I asked, feeling like a reporter.
"Feels like she got caught up in some incident, maybe."
The nurse placed her cap back on her hair. Then she put a hand to her chin and got a distant look in her eyes. "Like a murder case, for example."
Her eyes returned to face forward, her hand dropping limply to her side. "My alibi is proven by my nurse colleagues."
"Please don't suddenly start acting like you're in a mystery adventure game."
"Heeh." *Not that I can talk,* but my assessment plummeted back to where it was.
"Above all, I have no motive."
"Like I said, nobody's asking!"
"I have no prospect of promotion to head nurse."
"That's an unfair assessment, isn't it? Considering it's a wonder you haven't been fired."
"Whyyyy!" She voluntarily deactivated her 'pixel art character staring at the camera' mode. The wall that received the nurse's fist as an outlet for her anger let out a short, dull cry. ...*It's sheer luck this woman wasn't the tsukkomi (straight man) in our act.*

"Seriously, though, that's a terrible joke."
Hearing that, the nurse smiled, though not happily. "Guess I just wish I could laugh it off."
But Nawa Mitsuaki is dead. There was no need for me, right now, to say something as feignedly innocent as, "I hope she's okay."
"I wish she were okay, though..." the nurse murmured to the empty air, then descended the stairs, swinging her arms like a race walker. It seemed she wasn't jokes through and through, down to the core of her heart. Unlike me.

And so, despite encountering the nurse's interference, I somehow managed to arrive in front of Mayu's hospital room.
Having no assistant, I gave myself the command: 'Door, open.' But as I reached out, my hand paused in response to a stimulus in my ear. A voice, like the narration from an old Japanese folk tale – a recitation with subdued intonation – reached me through the door. It also sounded like a Shinto prayer, continuing without pause at a crawl slower than the legal speed limit.
I waited outside the door, straining my ears to listen. ......It sounded like Natsuki-san speaking. I couldn't make out entire sentences, but the endings sounded like the polite -desu/-masu style. Was she reading a fairy tale or picture book aloud to Mayu? And what was Mayu doing?
At the possibility that an unexpected situation was unfolding inside, I felt neither excitement nor tension, merely guided by curiosity as I put my hand on the door. I opened it halfway from the front.
Inside the room were, naturally, just the two of them: Mayu and Natsuki-san. Mayu was on the bed, sitting up and staring straight at the wall. Her gaze, her demeanor, held a strangely adult-like calmness that made my skin crawl.
Natsuki-san was sitting on a chair, holding a wide, thin book.
Both of them noticed my presence at the sound of the door and turned around. Whatever their true feelings, on the surface, both welcomed me with joyful expressions. At the same time, Mayu's inexplicable atmosphere vanished.
Mayu put her hands on the edge of the bed and tried to lower her feet. But, hampered by her lack of depth perception, Mayu pushed only air. Just as she was about to tumble *gorori* off the bed shoulder-first onto the floor, Natsuki-san instantly caught her and pushed her body back up. Mayu showed no particular resistance.
"Welcome back, Mii-san. Was that strange scream earlier yours?"
Picking up her bag and standing from the chair, Natsuki-san addressed me quite naturally. I mumbled a vague "Yeah" or something and approached Mayu. Mayu, this time without fail, moved to the edge of the bed and patted the empty space beside her, inviting me over. Her demeanor made it clear she seemed to have just woken up.
"Well then, please excuse me. Also, I'll give you this."
She handed me the picture book that had been in her hand. *Uriko-hime to Amanojaku*. The title was clearly written in hiragana on the cover.
As Natsuki-san passed me, she whispered, "Don't worry," gave a mischievous smile, and left the room. *Worry? About what?*

Pretending not to understand, I sat down where Mayu had indicated. Instantly, as if we were playing magnet tag, Mayu stuck close to me.

"Mii-Mii-Mii-kun, Mii-Mii-kun."
"There, there."
*My brain should be hard-boiled any minute now.* I recalled the nurse's saliva-laced message. "Dinner's almost ready, she said."
"Uh-huh. I'm hungry."
*Well, you slept through lunchtime too.*
"But Maa-chan's cooking is way yummier than the stuff here, right?"
"Yeah, that goes without saying."
*Okay, maybe it's safe now.* "You know that woman who was just here, right?"
"Nuh-uh, don't know her at all." Mayu denied it flatly.
......*I see. So, in other words... hooooh.*
"You don't dislike that person, then?" *For Mayu not to reject someone being near me...*
"Nn-nn, I hate her." Mayu's carefree smile. It looked like it could transform in an instant, making me wary.
"I was just listening because the picture book was nostalgic."
*So she was treating her like a radio, basically.* Makes sense that even Mayu wouldn't get jealous of a machine. Wondering if Natsuki-san had brought it, I looked at the back of the picture book and saw the hospital's name written in skillful calligraphy. *So Natsuki just skipped cleanup time entirely, huh.*
"Picture books and stuff, did you read them often?"
"What are you saying~? We took turns reading them, Mii-kun!" Mayu retorted, her eyes narrowing as if she'd just heard a third-rate joke.
Only then did I finally reminisce about my brilliant past with Maa-chan and reply lightly, "Ah, right we did." *Just kidding, though.*
"When I had sleepovers at Mii-kun's house, we read lots of them in the futon, remember?"
I was silent. I just stared at Mayu's beautiful face, adorned by dreams.
"Mii-kun reads too fast, so it was ha~rd work for me!"
"Sorry, sorry."
Unresponsive to my insincere apology, Mayu flipped through the picture book, humming. Her expression contained a contradictory charm, a mixture of grace and childishness.
Her innocent gestures gave me a sense of relief, while the picture book itself sent shivers of anxiety through my heart.
*Don't worry,* she'd said. Natsuki-san had said it as if she saw right through me.
*Oh, I worried alright. I worried.*
Worried that Mayu *hadn't* become normal.
*I'm horrible.*
So I'm hoping Mayu stays just like this?
This current situation, where she's broken, dreaming, mistaken, playing with reality.
But, yeah, that's how it is.
If Mayu's memories normalized, I'd be...
...thrown out like trash.
"Should Maa-chan read it to you?"
At Mayu's innocent question, I shook my head exaggeratedly, trying to dispel the distracting thoughts.
"Let's do it after we eat."
"Okay, sounds good," Mayu said, putting the book away.
There's no one as cruel as Natsuki-san.
That was the most effective, the *correct* form of harassment.
"Mii-kun, what's wrong? Are you about to cry?" Mayu slid down to my lap and looked up at me.
*Hmm, so that's the face I'm making right now?*

*Like I'm actually lamenting something, as if I'm somebody.*
"Nah, it's just... all of America was crying realizing how much I truly love Maa-chan."
Even if I lie.
Even if I deceive, even if I impersonate.
Even if I'm a fake.
Even if I'm an imitation, a forgery.
Even without the process.
Even with only the result, even if it's cheating.
.....So basically, I'm shouting 'Three cheers for the idiot couple!' *What a happy guy I am.*
"Maa-chan, what part of me do you like?"
"The Mii-kun part!" An energetic reply, without a hint of a blush.
Wonderful.
Maa-chan's answer is perfectly correct.
So why is it still wrong, I wonder.

**Chapter 3: The Night Seeking Blackness Seen Through Selfishness**

That girl was selfish; she had Mii-kun eat all the school lunch she didn't like.
I'm not picky about food at all.
That girl wasn't smart; she always had Mii-kun help her with her homework.
I always solve my homework all by myself.
That girl, that girl, that girl, she was useless at everything.
I, I, I try my best at everything.
But that girl doesn't get scolded for being useless, and I don't get praised for being a good girl.
Mii-kun, Dad, and Mom aren't by my side either.
Anyone can see this is wrong, but nothing can be done.
And she's noisy.
"Mii-kun, Mii-kun, Mii-kun, Mii-kun, Mii-kun,"
she's so noisy, that girl.

It was October 7th when I happened upon the scene of Nagase Tooru being confessed to by a boy.
It was memorable, so I even remember the time of day: cleaning time, immediately following the lunch break.
Nagase, being confessed to at the shoe lockers, and the boy, whose glossy black hair was almost too good for a guy.
Nagase didn't even put him on hold with a 'Let me think about it'; she rejected him as easily as downing an appetizer in one bite.
The boy, for his part, left behind a few hard-to-hear words and scurried away in the opposite direction from me. *Doesn't he have the guts to cling to her, begging on his knees while trying to peek up her skirt?* Though if he went that far, building any kind of human relationship would likely be impossible.
Nagase didn't even watch him go; she headed in the opposite direction from the boy – that is, towards me.
Lunch break was over, and I was on my way to my cleaning duty spot. Running away seemed like too much trouble, so I just stood there.
Seeing me standing there with my back against the wall, Nagase looked astonished, her pupils constricting.
Apparently, ignoring me completely was difficult; looking awkward, she stopped, and we continued to stare silently at each other. Eventually, the one who broke the silence was, as expected, Nagase.
"Peeping Tom?"
This was the first time I'd been placed directly in front of Nagase's world since the day we changed seats, and the same was true for me regarding her.
"Saw it by chance, heard it by chance. Won't tell anyone, of course."
"Doesn't matter if you do-ssu. Plenty of people know already."
"...That's some difficult Japanese." *Does information travel at the speed of light in this school?*
"It's not the first time he's confessed to me-ssu. Once in elementary school, once in middle school, this makes the third time." Nagase said, sounding fed up. And then I understood.