Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 11 - Chapter 3.1

Chapter 3 - Us, In Backup Memories

1

The medical office door opened, and Saki Kamisato came out, looking cross.

Once the unnatural attack on Ikumi subsided, Sakuta had carried her here. She hadn’t fought him on that. Saki had brought a change of clothes from her things.

“How is she?”

“The doctor’s examining her now.”

“Ah.”

“……”

Saki turned her eyes away from him and stared at the office door. There was no one else in the hall with them. MEDICAL OFFICE was written on a nearby white plate. Saki was still in her nurse costume, so it made the whole corridor feel like a hospital.

“Has Kunimi seen you dressed like that?” he asked when the silence got to be too much for him.

“Not yet,” she said, clearly displeased. It was obvious she didn’t want people to see her like this. Her every fiber was radiating that message.

“I think he’ll like it. He likes bunny girls and miniskirt Santas, so I’m sure he’ll go for nurses, too.”

“What do you think Yuuma is?” Saki snapped, swinging around to glare at him.

“A friend who shares my enthusiasms.”

“……”

Her scowl only deepened.

“What about you, Kamisato?”

“What about what?”

“What do you think about your friend?”

He glanced toward the door behind her. Was Ikumi still getting examined?

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Akagi’s earnest in a way that worries people, right? Entered nursing school to help people, big on the whole volunteer thing.”

And following the hashtag to save people.

Saki nodded once at this, then thought for a long time.

“She’s the definition of a good student,” she said.

“Yeah.”

That was an apt phrase.

“At first, I thought it was like a fashion statement.”

“How so?”

“You know the type. People who get involved with one thing or another to make themselves look good. They’re always part of some movement, or know some famous person, or just so busy because some event is coming up…but that’s all just to cover how shallow they are. All the bragging and business cards aren’t fooling anyone.”

Sakuta couldn’t stop himself from wincing. They’d both met one of those the other day.

“But Ikumi isn’t like that. It’s not for show. She’s not volunteering to put anyone else down. She really is just trying to help…and sometimes that creeps me out.”

She wasn’t mincing words, and that made him flinch again. He’d thought this was praise, but it landed pretty harsh.

But Saki was on the money.

Sakuta felt much the same thing.

Ikumi’s actions were heroic—flawlessly so.

She was the living embodiment of a “good student.”

Even when she helped people, she did so unnoticed, taking no pride in it. She didn’t seem to be looking for anything in return.

That was too perfect, which made it unsettling. Being that “good” was inherently creepy.

“Was she like that in junior high?”

“I didn’t know her well enough to say.”

“As if I do?”

Saki looked pissed.

“I’m pretty sure she was always a good student.”

“And?”

“That’s all I got.”

“Well, that’s useless.”

“I know.”

“Not that I expected more.”

“Then don’t ask.”

She ignored him, glancing at her phone.

“Chiharu’s begging me to come back. I’d better go.”

“Suit yourself.”

“You’ve got Ikumi covered?”

“If she needs your help again, I’m sure she’ll call you herself.”

That was why Saki was here at all.

“I’m asking because I know she’d never ask too much.”

Saki had a good grasp on Ikumi’s personality. Sometimes it creeped her out, but they were still friends, and she still worried about her. The fact that she was talking to him about it at all was likely because she’d noticed something amiss herself. This was probably part of what Yuuma found so charming about her.

He watched her go, lost in thought—then the door opened. A woman in a white coat came out—the school doctor, who looked to be in her midforties.

“Gotta step out,” she explained before hustling off down the hall. Had someone been hurt elsewhere? The festival was going strong, and it would not be at all surprising if a few people got carried away and injured themselves.

Sakuta got up and knocked on the half-open door.

“Akagi, mind if I come in?”

“Sure.”

Once she answered, he went in.

It was like any hospital exam room—curtained-off beds in the back and facilities far more professional than what could be found in pretty much any high school. If you were brought in blindfolded, you’d assume it was an actual hospital.

No one was there but Sakuta and Ikumi.

She was perched on the edge of a bed. The symptoms of her attack had subsided, and she was trying to work the zipper on her back. But with her sprained wrist, that was proving difficult.

“Need a hand?”

“……”

Her eyes stabbed through him. Guarded.

“I could call Kamisato back.”

“…Don’t. Please.”

Saki was right. Ikumi definitely didn’t want to lean on her more than she had already.

She grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled it aside, turning her nape toward him. The first thing he noticed was pale, clear skin. He could see the veins running through it.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed. Her ears were turning pink. She was trying to keep it hidden, but this was undoubtedly awkward for her. The sooner he got it over with, the better.

“Here we go.”

He grabbed the zipper and pulled it halfway down her back. This revealed the back of a white camisole, the strap fallen off one shoulder.

Her skin looked like it hadn’t been exposed to the sun even once all year, but he saw marks on it like she’d been scratching an itch. The tracks ran from her right shoulder blade down her side—five lines, like fingernail marks. Left by that unseen power?

“Thanks.”

She released her hair, hiding her back.

“Anything else you need?”

“If I do, I’ll be calling Saki back.”

With that, she grabbed the curtain and pulled it closed, driving him out.

“I have to change, so stay over there.”

“Should I leave?”

“You’ve got questions, right?”

He heard cloth rustling beyond the curtain.

But if she was willing to let him stay, he sure didn’t mind.

“That wasn’t a medical condition?”

It had certainly seemed like a flare-up of something.

“The doctor says I’m healthy.”

“Then what was it?”

“You already know.”

Her silhouette paused.

“I can guess.”

“But you want me to say it.”

“I want to know what you think, Akagi.”

“That’s just mean.”

She sounded defeated, yet she still didn’t actually say Adolescence Syndrome out loud.

“It…happens every now and again.”

“Honestly, I didn’t really get what was happening.”

At first, she’d seemed unwell, like she’d overexerted herself. Or was dizzy with a fever…

But what happened after that was the real problem.

“How do I put it? It’s like…someone’s got their hands on me.”

He pictured the marks on her back. Those did look like fingernail scratches.

“Ever seen one of those shows about spooky stories as a kid? They call it a poltergeist. No one’s there, but things move around.”

Ikumi made that sound like a joke, but Sakuta wasn’t laughing. It very much described what he’d witnessed.

Her cap flew away for no reason, then something invisible moved around beneath her clothes before finally tearing its way out from inside her stockings.

The curtains opened, and Ikumi stepped out, back in street clothes. The nurse costume was neatly folded on the bed behind her. The hole was still visible in the stockings.

“I wouldn’t say it’s agonizing or painful or anything like that.”

Her eyes told him not to worry.

“The hand injury wasn’t caused by an attack?”

Ikumi glanced down at her sprained wrist. If another attack occurred while she was trying to help someone, then it seemed all too plausible a blunder like that might happen. He could already see it playing out in his mind.

“You’ve got some imagination,” she said, her smile uncertain.

That told him he was right.

“Leave it,” she said. “I know how to fix it.”

“Really?”

“Do I look like a liar?”

“You seem to have a lot of secrets.”

“That, I won’t deny.”

Putting truth to her own words, she admitted it readily.

“You know the solution but haven’t gone for it—because it’s easier said than done?”

That’s why her Adolescence Syndrome was still going on.

It was hard to call that okay.

“Yeah. You’re not an easy man to forget.”

“……”

That was unexpected. It caught him totally off guard.

“It really isn’t easy,” she said again, meeting his eye.

She held his gaze. It did not look like she was teasing him.

“Did you think this wasn’t about you?”

“Why me?”

He didn’t know why he’d be a trigger for her.

“You really don’t remember.”

“……”

“That was a loaded statement, I know.”

Ikumi chuckled.

“We only knew each other in junior high, right?” he said.

“Mm-hmm. That’s all.” But her tone suggested she was neither confirming nor denying. “There was nothing between us.”

“Then why me?” he asked again.

“That is the question.”

She wasn’t answering. So many secrets.

“Azusagawa.”

“……?”

“Fancy a wager?”

“I don’t make bets I can’t win.”

She ignored that response entirely.

“Do I forget you first? Or do you remember what happened first?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“If you remember, my Adolescence Syndrome will go away.”

For the first time, she said the words.

“And you think that’ll force my hand.”

“Won’t it?”

“Before we start this thing, let me warn you.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty good at remembering things.”

Twice now he’d recovered vital lost memories.

Mai.

And Shouko.

“Glad you’re motivated.”

“Sweeten the deal and I’ll be even more motivated.”

“If you win, I won’t need to rely on the hashtag anymore.”

“How does that work? Are you saying you save hashtag people to forget me and cure your Adolescence Syndrome?”

Ikumi nodded.

“That’s why I can’t quit, no matter what you say.”

There was a dull gleam in her eyes. Determination, or a grim resolve. What did she make of all this? He really couldn’t tell.

“If you win, what am I on the hook for?”

“Nothing at all. I’ll have forgotten all about you. All you’ve gotta do is stay out of my life.”

She smiled at him. He had no clue why that smile seemed so kind. He really had no idea what she was thinking or how she felt about all this.

“Let’s get this started. Ready, set—go.”

It was the least exciting starting signal he’d ever heard.