A social media service with short posts, filtered by the dreaming hashtag.

Mai Sakurajima reveals that she’s Touko Kirishima. April 1. Red Brick Warehouse music festival. #dreaming

The band’s guest vocalist is Mai Sakurajima, sang a Touko Kirishima number, then announced she’s been Touko Kirishima all along! #dreaming

Seems like a lot of people had this dream. Well, so did I. Mai Sakurajima confirms she’s Touko Kirishima at a music festival. #dreaming

This settles it. Touko Kirishima and Mai Sakurajima are one and the same. #dreaming

There were tons of posts just like these.

He scrolled down ten times without finding an end to it.

That made sense.

“There’s, like, five thousand of them…,” Sara said, looking creeped out by it. She was well aware of how ominous that was.

This was not something to be dismissed, and the look on her face made it clear she was taking it seriously.

“That is definitely too many,” Sakuta said, voicing his honest opinion.

The whole time he was working, he couldn’t get those five thousand posts out of his head.

Everyone had seen the same concert.

They’d been part of that crowd.

And they’d all seen Mai Sakurajima take that mic and claim she was Touko Kirishima. They’d dreamed it.

The same dream Sakuta himself had experienced. He imagined that the details all lined up—the only difference being where they stood.

Which meant all these posts came from members of that concert audience.

At that point, it no longer qualified as just “weird.” Sakuta found it downright unnerving.

So anytime he had a moment to spare, his mind went back to those posts. His shift wound on.

And he racked up the hours worked.

At nine, high school staff—Tomoe and Sara—took off, leaving Sakuta, the manager, and one other college part-timer on the floor. It had been Sara’s first day on the job, but she left with a smile and a wave.

“I’m outta here, Sakuta-sensei!”

The hour after that went quick, and Sakuta’s shift ended. There hadn’t been much traffic that night, so around nine thirty, the manager had told him to clock out already.

Not one to argue, he excused himself at ten on the dot and headed to the back room while taking off his apron.

He stepped into the break room, intending to change behind the lockers. He’d assumed he’d find it empty, but there was a high school girl just hanging out. Tomoe, eyes on her phone.

“You still here, Koga?”

“Oh, Senpai.”

“Quit fiddling with your phone and get home.”

“I wanted to ask you something, so I was waiting for you.”

About Sara? He figured that would lead to grumbling. But what Tomoe said next was on a different subject entirely.

“You seemed concerned about the #dreaming posts, so I thought I’d share my dream.”

Tomoe was looking right at him, clearly taking this seriously. The fact that she’d waited a full hour for him got his attention. This seemed like something she couldn’t talk about during work, so she’d kept quiet until now. In which case, he thought that they should take this outside.

“Gotcha,” Tomoe said, nodding.

Outside, Sakuta and Tomoe headed toward Fujisawa Station.

“You had a Christmas Eve dream, then, Koga?”

“Seems like everyone did. Nana, my friends in class… Did anyone miss out? It’s feeling like a no.”

It was limited to their generation, but to Sakuta’s knowledge, Mai was the only one who hadn’t had a dream. If that was true for Tomoe’s circles, too, then the exceptions were rare indeed.

They passed the station and headed east. Foot traffic died down, and Sakuta got to the point.

“So did you see Mai’s big announcement?”

“I did not.”

“Then what?”

“My dream started a good deal earlier than April first.”

“How much earlier?”

“February fourth.”

A very specific date. And not one that rang a bell. It was the day after Setsubun…but that was all he could really say.

“What happened?”

“Sakurajima-senpai was working with Fujisawa PD, acting as police chief for a day.”

“She was?”

That was news to him.

“There was an accident during the event. In my dream, the news said she was seriously injured and had not regained consciousness.”

That was also a first.

“You mean it?”

“I wouldn’t make something like this up.”

“I know.”

It was just a dream, but Tomoe’s tone was grim, like she’d witnessed this firsthand. The look on her face was every bit as dire.

Neither the police chief thing nor the equipment collapse had shown up in the dreaming hashtag posts. Everything Mai-related he’d seen was about the music festival on April 1 and her shocking announcement.

Sakuta’s own dream had been about that. Ikumi’s dream had been about the same day, the same time.

“What happened to Mai after she reached the hospital?”

“There was no news about her recovery. At least, not as of April ninth.”

“……Huh?”

He uttered a very dull-witted noise. What had she just said?

“As of April ninth, there was no further news.”

Sakuta had not misheard her.

“I asked you, but you wouldn’t tell me much.”

Tomoe glared at him, holding him responsible for what he’d done in her dream.

That was hardly the only strange thing here.

What on earth was Tomoe talking about?

The specifics and extent of her dream were far beyond what Sakuta had seen or what any #dreaming post involved. This was a huge departure. And within that dream, she’d made a conscious effort to get in touch with him. As if she’d just been living a normal life…

“Uh, Koga.”

“What?”

“Your dream went on that long?”

He’d experienced something very similar once. With Tomoe. Summer of his second year in high school. Strange memories of looping through the same few days.

“I guess.” She looked away, clearly not wanting to say more.

“You saw everything from Christmas Eve until April ninth?”

“So what if I did?”

She made a face at him, practically admitting it.

This matched Tomoe’s previous Adolescence Syndrome symptoms. The future simulation. The return of Laplace’s demon.

“I didn’t loop through the same time on repeat or anything,” she said evasively.

“So you realized high school graduation was coming up and got nervous about whether you’d make friends in college?”

“Shut up.”

He’d definitely got it in one.

“How you doing?” she asked.

“Mm?”

“Did you make friends?”

A forced change of subject.

“Got one or two I talk to often.”

Takumi was probably safe to call a friend. Takumi would likely throw a fit if he said they weren’t.

There was also Miori, who’d described them as potential friends. That could mean they still weren’t friends. Sakuta himself would be perfectly fine with making that leap, though.

“But it’s different from high school.”

“Like, how?”

“We just kinda hang out. Without getting to know each other as well as I did Kunimi or Futaba.”

In high school, everyone’s lives overlapped, and that deepened the connections. Like, without even trying, you wound up with a good idea where people lived. They were that close.

But in college, everyone’s active range expanded, and there was little to no overlap. Once you left campus, you had no clue what anyone else was up to. And that distance kept relationships thin.

That was neither good nor bad.

And it let people keep a safer distance and avoid hurting each other.

“Huh, okay.”

Tomoe took his word for it but also clearly didn’t get it. It didn’t feel real to her yet.

“Koga, just don’t panic and try to join a group that’s not right for you again.”

“Well, if I do, I’ll come to you to grumble.”

“No more than once a week.”

“Also, this is me.”

They’d hit an intersection, and Tomoe paused in her tracks. She would have to turn left there, and Sakuta would go right.

“Thanks for sharing, Koga. It was a huge help.”

He was mildly concerned by the reemergence of the petite devil, but he had learned something vital from it.

“Then treat me to a Mont Blanc that’s only good for two hours.”

“Is ten good?”

“One’s plenty!”

“No need to hold back.”

“If you wanna thank me, just be normal about it!”

“That’s asking a lot.”

“Suuuure. Later, Senpai.”

Tomoe waved and walked away. He watched her go, and she soon turned back.

“You’re making this weird!”

She pointed down the road, urging him to get moving. Then she ran off, trying to get out of his sight. He soon lost track of her.

“I never get bored watching her,” he muttered, then turned the opposite way down the road.

For a while, his footsteps echoed through the residential streets. His breathing was the only other sound.

All he’d done was show up for work, but he’d ended up hearing a lot of strange stories.

Sara’s news about all the people who’d shared his dream.

Too much baffling information at once, but one piece of the puzzle had slotted into place.

Mai would be in a coma.

What Tomoe had seen could not line up better with the Mai’s in danger warning. And he was glad to know about it in advance. If she was bound to have equipment fall on her, it shouldn’t be that hard to prevent.

Most of this made no sense, but that alone seemed safe.

Not that he didn’t have concerns—he had no idea how this connected to the other part of the message: Find Touko Kirishima.

And why had he dreamed about Mai calling herself by that name? That still made no sense.

How did the pieces fit together? What parts of it weren’t related at all?

Just thinking about it made his head spin.

“I’m so lost.”

The words slipped out, but they were a clear reflection of his state of mind.

That evening, Mai called.

As they talked, she mentioned, “Oh, right. On February fourth, I’ll be police chief for a day.”

Straight from her own lips.

Exactly as Tomoe had promised.

6

Winter vacation ended, and college resumed the next day, January 6.

Sakuta got ready early and left in time for his first-period class. At Fujisawa Station, he boarded the Tokaido Line to Yokohama Station. From there, he switched to the Keikyu Line and disembarked at Kanazawa-hakkei Station. The whole commute from home took about an hour.

This was the same thing he saw every morning, reminding him he was back on the college routine.

But something felt slightly off.

Different.

He felt more eyes on him than usual. More than he got by just being Mai Sakurajima’s boyfriend.

Puzzling over that, he stepped through the gates and went down the stairs on the west side of the station. Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, he followed the road along the tracks—and heard footsteps running up behind him.

“Azusagawa, cheers to the new year, man.”

Pulling up alongside him was Takumi Fukuyama. Like Sakuta, he was a statistical science major. He wore a black down jacket with an eye-catching orange scarf.

“Happy New Year.”

“Wish ya a good one.”

“Let’s make it a good one.”

Sakuta elected to enunciate.

“You’re so formal.”

“The world’s cutest girlfriend trained me to take salutations seriously.”

“Now I’m jealous.”

Takumi took his joke seriously. Maybe it wasn’t really a joke.

“So, about the world’s cutest Sakurajima—is that shit legit?”

“Which shit?”

Mai was famous—there was always something to buzz about.

“Online, they’re saying she’s Touko Kirishima.”

“You can’t believe everything you see in dreams.”

“But word is, this mass precog thing does come true.”

“Did you dream, Fukuyama?”

“I was in Hokkaido.”

“Why Hokkaido?”

“I’m from there,” Takumi said, grinning.

“First I’ve heard of it.”

“I swear I said it when I introduced myself!”

“Is coming here from Hokkaido a big deal?”

He knew someone else from there—Touko Kirishima. He’d seen that info on Nene Iwamizawa’s profile.

“What?” Takumi said, looking baffled. He didn’t know about her.

“I met someone else from there recently.”

“Knowing you, I bet she’s cute.”

Takumi was leaning in, a bit too eager. Sakuta backed away, maintaining distance.

“Not as cute as Mai.”

“Introduce us!”

He’d love to, but it was physically impossible. Only Sakuta could actually see her. But telling Takumi something that out-there would just make him sound crazy—naturally, he wasn’t about to say the truth here. Best to just change the subject.

“Fukuyama, why’d you choose this college?”

If you were just trying to get to the city, there were any number of options. It seemed probable that he had a specific reason for choosing one run by the City of Yokohama.

“Don’t just change the subject! She must be real cute.”

Sadly, Takumi was not that easily dissuaded. He was starved for love.

“Fine, if she’s cool with it, I’ll introduce you.”

“Seriously? Now I’m glad I’m your friend.”

Sakuta wondered about that as they passed through the college gates.

It had been a while since he’d been on campus.

The tree-lined row was entirely free of gingko leaves.

“Uh, Azusagawa…”

“Mm?”

“Why did I pick this school?”

“……”

Assuming Takumi was joking, he glanced at him—and found his brow furrowed.

“Uh, Fukuyama?”

“Mm?”

“Are you all right in the head?”

Why else would he forget something like that?

And with that, they reached the classroom building.

Sakuta felt eyes on him the entire day.

During class, in the halls, as he dug into his curry in the cafeteria…there was nearly always someone looking his way. A wordless question, asking him if Mai Sakurajima was actually Touko Kirishima.

Each time, he offered the silent cry “She isn’t!” but his wail reached no one.

“That thing you mentioned this morning, Fukuyama? Looks like everyone knows.”

“Well, they would.”

Takumi shrugged it off, working through his own plate of curry. It was no big deal in his mind—just public knowledge. The idea had become so pervasive it’d be weird not to know.

It felt like what should have been rumor was being taken as fact.

The morning alone had been enough for him to realize how prevalent this topic was and how fast word had spread.

“Good thing Mai’s not here today.”

Even Mai would likely get frustrated by this web of lies.

“Oh, right. Azusagawa.”

“You’ve got curry on your face.”

“My birthday’s the thirtieth. This month.”

Wiping his face, Takumi offered information nobody had asked for.

“Well, congrats.”

“So hook me up with this Hokkaido girl first.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Sakuta was finally freed from the obnoxious looks during third period, a core curriculum class.

As the professor had warned, they had an exam.

Many standard classes wrapped things up with a report, but this class offered a test filled with essay questions.

The professor allowed notes and reference materials, but not phones. This was a rule that Sakuta had never encountered in high school.

For the first forty minutes, the only sound was mechanical pencils on paper, occasionally punctuated by Takumi making thinking noises.

Otherwise, silence.

A tense sort of silence, and Sakuta assumed that hush would continue until the exam ended—but not today.

There was a loud rattle from the back.

Someone had thrown open the sliding door.

Yet nobody turned around. Thirty students all stayed focused on their essays.

Sakuta himself kept on writing.

He assumed it was just a classmate running late.

Then he heard heels coming down the aisle, as if heading straight for him. They stopped right next to Sakuta. A shadow darkened his page.

Puzzled, Sakuta looked up.

A college girl stood there.

Touko Kirishima—actual name, Nene Iwamizawa.

“We need to talk,” she said, once she had his attention.

Everyone in class should have heard her speak, but not one student looked up, not even the white-haired professor killing time with a book.

No one reacted.

Not because they were focused on the exam. In the next seat over, Takumi was aimlessly flipping through a reference book, his concentration having long since run out. Quite a few students in front of them had finished up and were just vacantly staring into space. The rules said anyone who’d finished could start filing out after an hour, so they were presumably waiting for that time.

Either way, if someone had suddenly started talking, they’d have looked up. The professor would have done something.

This weird lack of reaction was only possible because they were unable to see Touko. Could not hear her voice.

I’m taking an exam.

Unable to answer aloud, he scribbled this in his notes.

“Then I’ll wait till you’re done.”

Touko sat down sideways on the seat in front of his. Looking right at him. Watching his every move. Glaring pointedly at him.

This made it impossible for him to write.

It’d be best to take care of whatever she’d come for and finish the test afterward.

“Excuse me! My stomach hurts. I gotta run to the bathroom,” he announced, standing up.

He bent over a bit, one hand rubbing his belly. A terrible performance—Mai would definitely have laughed at him.

But the professor just said, “Go ahead,” and pointed at the door.

So he headed for the exit.

“……”

Takumi didn’t react, and she gave him a long look. Waiting for him to thank her? To no avail—he didn’t notice.

It was no surprise that he couldn’t see her, and it didn’t look like Sakuta would be able to introduce them. He’d have to think of some other birthday present.

“Hmph,” Touko snorted, then turned and sailed out of the room. Sakuta trailed after her. Still pretending his stomach hurt.

Miori was seated near the back, and she caught his eye, shooting him an accusative glare. Did she think he was faking it? Probably.

Outside the exam room, Touko walked all the way down the long corridor and entered an empty classroom. Sakuta followed and closed the door behind him.

With just the two of them, it was even quieter than the exam hall.

“What did you want?” he asked, getting to the point. Hoping to get back to his essay.

“What’s your girlfriend up to?”

“Meaning?”

“Everyone’s saying she’s Touko Kirishima.”

“Somebody gave them all a weird dream.”

“She’s your girlfriend. Make her fix this.”

“That’s for her own good, so I’d love to. But if you’ve got a problem with it, why not just come forward as the real Touko Kirishima?”

The central garden was right outside the window. That was where Touko had done her Christmas Eve live broadcast.

“You could stream right here and now. I’ll help.”

That seemed fastest.

“No use.”

“You’ve tried it?”

Where they could only make out her silhouette.

“Then you’ve just gotta make yourself perceivable again.”

And to do that, he needed to know just why Touko had become invisible. He didn’t imagine she’d tell him that easily…and it was always possible she didn’t know, either.

“Kirishima, do you know why you’re like this?”

“Nope,” she snapped.

“Does Iwamizawa know why?”

“……”

That earned him silence.

Silence signaled agreement.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

He’d talked with her enough to realize she was bad at lying. And she had a habit of clamming up when he was right.

“Your girlfriend needs to deny it.”

“Once a rumor or mistake spreads this far, it’s pretty hard to refute.”

Some people believed it unquestioningly. Others didn’t care either way and the truth didn’t matter. Trying to passionately explain the truth to them would likely not get much across. The truth was as they perceived it.

“And if you know that, you’ve got a plan, right?” Touko said, giving him a searching look.

“If I do, is there a reward?” he asked, meeting her eyes.

“Hmm,” she said, crossing her arms.

She thought of something soon and smirked.

Catching his eyes again, she said, “I’ll take you on a date.”

“If it’s not a sleepover date, I’m hardly tempted.”

“I wouldn’t mind. If you aren’t scared of that girlfriend of yours.”

The gleam in her eyes indicated that she was trying to wind him up. She was enjoying this.

“You win. I’ll do something.”

She offered up her hand, and he shook it.

If they could clear the air around Mai and learn more about Touko, that was two birds with one stone. Forget the joke about a sleepover.

“Get it done,” she said, turning to go.

“What dream did you have, Kirishima?” he asked.

He’d figured she’d just ignore it, but she paused at the door and turned back.

“I didn’t have one.”

A surprising answer, at this stage. Mai wasn’t the only one.

“Same as Mai,” he said.

Touko made a face.

“Do you have time for this? You’d better get back to class. You’re cutting it close.”

At that, the bell rang. End of the third period—and the end of his exam.

It was his turn to make a face. Clearly what she’d been after. Touko said “Laters,” fluttered a hand, and was gone.

By the time Sakuta got back to the core curriculum room, it was deserted. His answer sheet had been collected, and the only things left were his stuff—and a girl, sitting across the aisle from his belongings. He recognized that half-up, half-down hairstyle—Miori had taken the same exam.

She heard him coming and turned around.

“Welcome back, pukeface.”

“What is that, the title of a morning soap?”

“Nobody would watch that.”

She laughed, amused.

“Everyone took off already. Planning a new-term party or a post-exam kegger.”

“You didn’t join them, Mitou?”

“If I go, I’ll just get hit on.”

It was amazing how she managed to keep that from sounding spiteful.

“And I had a question for you, Azusagawa.”

“My type? It’s Mai.”

“Then who was the girl you left with?”

“……”

This was the last question he’d expected, and it left him dumbfounded.

“Sneaking off for a tryst, mid-test? My word.”

It took him a minute to even register what he was hearing.

What was Miori saying?

“She dresses up like Santa sometimes, yes? Miniskirt and everything.”

She just kept mercilessly piling on.

And he could no longer reject the idea.

“……You can see her, Mitou?”

“She marches right in like that, how could I miss it?”

“No, I mean, you could see her?”

“What do you mean by that?”

Miori looked baffled, obviously not following what he was saying.

“You and I are the only people who can see that woman.”

“……”

Now it was her turn to freeze. She likely wasn’t processing that at all. It didn’t seem like she’d understood his words.

For a long moment, she simply blinked at him.

“……”

“……”

A very, very long silence passed.

Her lips didn’t move again until the fourth-period bell rang.

“What?”

“Are you insane?”

It had taken her a long time to reach that conclusion.

But it was by far the most appropriate one.

The whole time Sakuta was explaining Touko Kirishima’s deal, Miori maintained a grave expression, which was occasionally punctuated by disbelief. But she never interrupted as she heard him out.

How he’d first met the miniskirt Santa.

How only he could perceive her.

How she’d called herself Touko Kirishima.

He left out her alleged involvement with #dreaming and the distribution of Adolescence Syndrome. Trying to explain that would force him to share Uzuki’s and Ikumi’s cases, and they’d be here all night.

Miori could probably only take so much of this, so he wrapped stuff up before they hit that point.

“That’s about all I know.”

“May I ask a question?” she asked, throwing up a hand. Like she’d been champing at the bit.

“Yes, go ahead,” he said, playing along.

“Why the two of us?”

That was the obvious question. The first that came to mind. Anyone would ask the same.

“That’s what I wanna know.”

He’d have loved to tell her why, but he didn’t have an answer, either. He would love to know why himself.

Why could he see her?

Why could Miori?

Miori’s response was sincere. The situation was objectively pretty scary, and you didn’t even need to be objective to think that. This was by no means a normal series of events.

Thanks to her, Sakuta had been able to get another perspective on this mess, but that didn’t exact make it any less alarming.

“But okay,” she said, oblivious to his turmoil. Her eyes were on the ceiling. “That explains why Manami gave me a weird look when I mentioned the campus Santa to her.”

She laughed, like that solved one mystery. It was a distinctly hollow laugh. The ha sounded more like a sigh.

“But she is alive, right? Not a ghost or anything?” Miori asked, looking dead serious.

“Yeah, well…I shook her hand earlier.”

“And it felt…?”

“As warm as you’d expect.”

“Then she’s no ghost.”

Sakuta felt like this hadn’t particularly proved anything, but he didn’t argue the point. It was a crazy story to begin with, so no use expecting tangible evidence.

“It’s less like people can’t see her and more like they can’t perceive her existence.”

“I guess I get that…?” Miori began, but then she shook her head. “Nope, I don’t think I do.”

“It’s not just her. Fukuyama was looking at the beauty contest home page, and he couldn’t see the part about Nene Iwamizawa.”

Which meant they couldn’t take in any information related to her. The most they could make out was a distant silhouette, too indistinct to identify. And her voice—which, on its own, didn’t narrow things down.

“The beauty contest website? I wonder if I can see that.”

“Take a look, and you’ll soon—” As he spoke, Sakuta remembered some key information. “Oh, right. Mitou, you don’t have a phone.”

Grumbling, Miori reached for her tote bag. She pulled out a flat dark-gray rectangle. It was a laptop with a logo shaped like a fruit on it.

She’d once mentioned using the internet on her computer at home.

“You carry that around with you?”

It was thin but not exactly small. The weight was hardly insignificant.

“My last class was third period, so I brought it planning to work on my report.”

She flashed him a triumphant smile and opened it, humming to herself.

It soon booted up.

He tried to lean in and look, and she half-closed the lid so he couldn’t. A subtle defense.

“No peeping at ladies’ desktops.”

“Why, is it covered in smut?”

“Well, yes.”

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

But he did back off.

Miori smoothly navigated to her online destination.

“Okay, here it is. The beauty contest page, last year’s grand prix. A second-year—at the time—with an international liberal arts major. From Hokkaido, five foot three, born March thirtieth.”

“That’s the one.”

“She’s got a social media account with tons of photos.”

Miori turned her laptop so he could see. He must be allowed now.

The screen was full of Nene Iwamizawa’s photographs.

All were accompanied by short posts about her modeling, campus life, and current fashion trends.

It was a record of how dazzling her life had been.

The overall impression was that her life had been very fulfilling.

“Mitou, anything you’re seeing suggest she might want to disappear?”

Miori had been scrolling slowly down the feed, but she paused there.

“She stopped posting in April, so something must have happened then.”

As she answered, Miori looked at him. She blinked twice, taking the measure of his response.

“For example?”

“Break ended, and Mai showed up on campus? And stole all the attention.”

She spoke that name with undeniable purpose.

“Aha…”

He thought she’d hit the nail on the head.

“This girl was a model and a beauty queen. She must have really stood out on campus. Had lots of people fussing over her.”

“I can imagine.”

These posts definitely projected that.

“Nene Iwamizawa was princess of this college kingdom…until Mai arrived.”

“But Mai Sakurajima is a queen.”

“Go against her, and your kingdom falls.”

Compared with your ordinary student, Nene Iwamizawa may have had regal qualities. She’d landed modeling gigs as a student and won that campus contest—and those had given her confidence. Convinced her she wasn’t like these other kids. Given her a sense of superiority.

She was different. Special. She was someone and proud of it.

And then Mai Sakurajima had invaded.

A genuine celebrity, a household name since she was six.

TV shows, movies, commercials, and magazine covers. She did it all, and there was no escaping her name and face. Her résumé and recognition were far beyond what Nene Iwamizawa had accrued.

It was never even a contest. Mai was instantly top dog on campus.

“Yeah, it takes more than this to put yourself in line behind Mai.”

Different scale, different stage—different caliber.

The same way Uzuki’s and Nodoka’s names had never been mentioned in the same breath as Mai’s.

“The arrival of a celebrity like Mai Sakurajima must have rocked her to the core.”

Everything she’d been proud of was instantly valueless.

“That’s why Nene Iwamizawa disappeared. She could no longer perceive her own worth.”

Men no longer gave her appreciative glances. Women no longer looked envious.

Her reputation had been fundamentally altered.

She was no longer special. That status was Mai Sakurajima’s alone.

Sakuta felt like he’d figured it out, but Miori shook her head.

“Hmm, I dunno about that,” she said.

“What have I got wrong?” he asked, not sure what she meant.

“Mai appeared, stole everyone’s attention, made her no longer special, made her ordinary—and she knew her so-called friends were laughing at her for it. I bet that’s what made her want to hide.”

Her hands folded on top of the closed laptop, Miori’s tone never wavered—and once again, her take sounded right on the money.

“……”

No response came to mind.

Sakuta felt sure Miori had accurately assessed Nene’s position and psychology.

“When someone who’s been lording it over everyone gets their ass handed to them, don’t you think, ‘Serves you right’?”

“Well, yeah.”

“People who self-describe as victims never imagine their actions will hurt anyone else.”

“The privilege of the downtrodden,” Miori chuckled, like she was joking. She kept it light, but her words cut deep.

And that discrepancy struck Sakuta as funny. He let out a wheezing laugh.

Their discussion trailed off.

“……”

“……”

But the smiles remained.

“Did you go through some stuff, Mitou?”

“Like what?”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“Well, I’ve certainly lived a life.”

She never let him get further than that.

And that was fine. He was more interested in Touko than Miori.

“Still, Mitou.”

“Mm-hmm?”

“She’s Touko Kirishima.”

He glanced down at Miori’s laptop. They’d only looked at Nene Iwamizawa’s account.

“With that name’s profile, she could rival Mai. To the point of drowning out the laughter of her so-called friends. Instead of disappearing, all she’d need to do is tell everyone she’s Touko Kirishima and climb back up the heap.”

This felt inconsistent.

“Then she isn’t Touko Kirishima.”

“……………Huh?”

There was a long delay before he responded. Unable to grasp her meaning.

“You said it yourself, Azusagawa. There’s no need for Touko Kirishima to disappear. If this girl has, that means she was never Touko Kirishima.”

A surprising perspective, but even more surprising—it made sense.

Just a rational exercise…?

“Is it that far-fetched?”

“No…”

“But you’re making a weird face.”

“I was born that way.”

Miori laughed harder than she had all day.

2

“Your friend makes an interesting point.”

The next day, Saturday, January 7.

Before his shift at the cram school, Sakuta had filled Rio in over lunch about his conversation with Miori.

They were on the second floor of a sushi spot near Fujisawa Station’s south gate, which was behind the department store, where a bunch of restaurants were. The two of them occupied a four-top.

“She’s still calling us potential friends,” he said, swallowing a mouthful of deep-fried aji and rice.

“That sounds obnoxious.”

“She’s neck and neck with you, Futaba.”

“……”

Rio pointedly ignored this comment, taking a bite of salted kinmedai. Proximity to the water meant the seafood in the area was always fresh.

“So what’s your take on it?”

“I think your potential friend’s theory is worth bearing in mind.”

“Mm-hmm.”

That was Sakuta’s problem. He’d met a miniskirt Santa claiming to be Touko Kirishima and, until yesterday, had never once doubted that she actually was.

But suddenly a theory arose that flipped that entire premise. An off-the-cuff remark from the only other person he knew who could actually see Touko.

“The whole ‘Nene Iwamizawa was princess of our campus’ thing? Well, yeah.”

They’d just read a lot into her online presence. Taken the words model and beauty contest winner and spun a simplistic profile based on that.

They’d assumed she’d had her position stolen by Mai and found herself no longer special, with her peers laughing at her, mocking her. They’d assumed she’d lost her sense of self and disappeared—becoming an invisible girl.

“But since you’re speculating, best not to get too hung up on it. If your premise proves wrong, then so will your conclusions.”

“That’s very fair.”

He took a bite of fried shrimp. The breading made a satisfying crunch. The meat inside was juicy.

“I’m more concerned about this idea everyone’s got in their heads about Sakurajima. At my school, they’re talking like it’s a confirmed fact.”

Rio was going to a national college, specializing in the sciences. But it sounded like this rumor had traction with both STEM types and humanities majors.

“Same at ours.”

He’d even heard some high school girls discussing it on the train here:

“It’s so cool that Mai Sakurajima is Touko Kirishima.”

“She can do, like, everything.”

“Still, Mai should clear that up in a couple of days.”

“Coming-of-Age Day?”

“Mai’s the most famous person turning twenty this year.”

“Ah,” Rio said, nodding. “She plans to refute the rumors in front of the cameras, then?”

“They’re bound to ask her about Touko Kirishima.”

“Naturally.”

“And she’ll post an official comment to her social media accounts, too.”

Mai had called last night from the hotel near where she was filming on location. Her manager, Ryouko, and the upper brass at her agency had heard the rumors and were concerned. Mai had solid backing.

“So that’s what her post this morning was about.”

“Mm?”

Sakuta blinked, and Rio silently pulled it up and held the phone out to him.

It showed a photo-sharing site that the Mai Sakurajima official account ran in tandem with her agency.

The post was an official photo of her taken on set for the TV show she was filming, with a quick nod that she’d have a major announcement coming on the ninth.

“Very like Mai.”

She left no stone unturned and knew exactly how to make word spread effectively.

“The problem comes if this doesn’t nip the rumor in the bud,” Rio said, eating the chawanmushi that had come with her lunch set.

Sakuta shared that concern. “Once people believe something, it’s weirdly hard to convince them it was never true.”

When their perceptions and opinions differed, people were reluctant to change their minds or were adamantly against it.

Mai and her agency staff were well aware of that and were acting accordingly. Preparing thoroughly.

“Anyone who saw the dream I had will likely believe that dream instead.”

The music festival dream.

Where Mai told the world she was Touko Kirishima.

Her singing voice had been far too convincing.

“If only the real one would show herself.”

That was the best solution.

But not an option they had.

“She can’t if she’s invisible. You’ll have to fix that first.”

Rio was right.

“I’m doing what I can on that front.”

He had a pseudo-date booked with her. Given what he knew about her, if he did his part of the bargain, she’d likely do hers.

“But, Futaba…”

“What?” she asked, setting her tea back down.

“If Nene Iwamizawa isn’t Touko Kirishima, what do I do then?”

They wanted the real Touko to deny these weird rumors, but if she was fake—that would ruin those plans.

“Cross that bridge when you come to it. Or just have her become Touko Kirishima.”

A bold plan, even from Rio.

“That’s the sort of scheme you come up with, Azusagawa,” she added when he looked baffled.

“Yeah, if it clears the air around Mai—I totally would try that.”

He still wasn’t sure what was going on with Nene Iwamizawa, but he also didn’t really know her well enough to get involved otherwise.

Once Sakuta and Rio finished their tasty meals, they settled the tab and left the shop. It was two PM.

Both had lessons to teach, so they headed toward the station’s northern exit.

“I dreamed I was dating Kunimi,” Rio said out of nowhere.

“Huh?” Sakuta blinked at her.

“We were eating together. Pretty sure it was a date.”

Rio didn’t look at him. She sounded calm.

“Legit?” he asked.

A silent nod. Eyes dead ahead.

Sadly, Sakuta agreed. Not that there was anything wrong with Rio herself, but because that was just Yuuma’s character.

“He’s totally in love with that mad-dog girlfriend of his.”

Even if Saki Kamisato and Yuuma’s relationship soured and they broke up, spring was far too soon for Yuuma to see anyone else.

Rio likely wouldn’t agree to it, either. It was a bit late for that.

If quite a bit more time passed, maybe things would work out, but Sakuta couldn’t imagine them getting together in the next year or two, at the least.

“So I don’t think these dreams are the future.”

Sakuta couldn’t read any nuance from Rio’s profile. On the surface, it looked like she had no strong feelings about this. But when she woke up from the dream, it must have rattled her.

But right now, she seemed like her usual self. To his eyes anyway.

“I’ll take your word for it, Futaba.”

“……”

She glanced at him. Not expecting him to accept that so easily.

The world at large believed those dreams were prophetic. Sakuta himself had found his dream coming true. Rio knew that—which was why she was surprised. Wondering why he’d been so ready to believe her.

Her eyes were clearly asking for an explanation.

“Akagi said the same thing. Those dreams don’t show the future, but a glimpse at the other potential world.”

Ikumi had said as much on the phone, on December 25 of last year, right after the trip to Hakone. He’d been pretty shocked when she told him her theory but, at the same time, felt it explained a lot.

More than anything, if she was right—that explained why he had a cell phone.

For the simple reason that when Sakuta had visited that other world…the other Sakuta had owned one.

“Still, that doesn’t really change much. Even if the dreams are really showing us another world, that doesn’t mean the same thing won’t happen in this one.”

“Yeah. Whether they show the future or another world, we won’t know what’s going to happen until it happens.”

“They just give us headaches.”

Left them flailing about.

“Indeed,” Rio said, a hint of sadness in her voice. It was obvious she was feeling that one.

That told him the dream had definitely rattled her—but she’d come to terms with it in her own way.

“I learned one thing from this mess with Kasai,” she muttered.

“Mm?”

“Not being able to reciprocate is stifling. Did I make Kunimi feel this way?”

A faint smile played around her lips. It sent Sakuta off into memories of that summer.

Their second year of high school.

The three of them had gone to see the fireworks.

Watching those colorful blooms, Rio had smiled. Just like she was now.

Two and a half years later, those were distant memories. Time flowed ever onward.

3

January 9. Coming-of-Age Day. Mai Sakurajima’s name was trending.

Crews from every TV station converged on Fujisawa. All were there to cover Mai Sakurajima in a long-sleeved kimono. It was a once-in-a-lifetime photo op.

Sakuta watched the whole thing on TV.

Mai stood before a sea of cameras, delivering a speech—representing everyone there turning twenty. When she finished, the applause was thunderous.

One task down, but her real labors lay ahead.

After the ceremony, she moved to the venue lobby, where she was surrounded by the press.

The first questions she got asked how it felt to be twenty:

“Do you feel like an adult?”

“Have you had you first drink yet?”

Standard stuff.

Mai answered each politely, with a smile.

The question on everyone’s minds showed up after each crew got their first question in, when it looped back to the initial speaker.

Fumika Nanjou, an assistant announcer on an afternoon variety show.

“Social media is buzzing with claims that you’re the online singer Touko Kirishima. Mai, what is the truth behind these rumors?”

Mai faced the forest of microphones.

“That would be neat, right? Unfortunately, I am not Touko Kirishima. Sorry to disappoint.”

She flashed a smile, speaking softly but firmly.

“You’re aware of the dreaming hashtag?” someone else asked.

“Yes, it’s quite a hot topic.”

“There are a ton of posts under that tag saying you’ll claim to be Touko Kirishima.”

“Should I have my manager show you my schedule? I’m afraid I simply don’t have time for a music career.”

That was clearly a joke, and they all laughed.

Then their eyes turned to Ryouko.

“I can’t show them without approval!” she said, looking flustered. She crossed her arms, making an X. This got another laugh.

“What do you think of Touko Kirishima?”

“Do you believe dreams can come true?”

Lots of the inquiries were tangentially connected to the rumors.

After a while, Ryouko said, “Time for one more question.”

She seemed certain they’d managed to clear the air.

Fumika Nanjou’s hand shot up again, and Ryouko pointed at her.

“Are things going well with your boyfriend?”

A new angle. Mai smiled.

“I’ll leave that to your imaginations,” she said, placing her right hand on her chest. Her ring finger gleamed—with the ring Sakuta had bought her.

That got a flurry of shutter clicks from the cameras.

So many flashes were going off, he couldn’t even make Mai out.

Mai bowed her head low to the assembled press.

“Thank you all for coming today.”

With that, Ryouko led Mai out.

The whole conference was shown on the noon news, on the afternoon variety shows, and again on the evening and late-night news, over and over, on every channel, from every angle—Mai’s kimono.

Mai Sakurajima’s official social media accounts also refuted the rumors.

Her two-front strategy produced the desired results, Sakuta thought. From that day on, the media ceased to cover the rumors about her.

But on personal social media accounts?

Too late to deny it.

Her agencies are putting out fires.

She should just admit it. This is a farce.

Posts like those abounded.

Perhaps the only way to end the stories for good would be for the real one to emerge.

A week after Coming-of-Age Day, college was back to normal. There were still eyes on Sakuta sometimes, but they were standard issue “Oh, that’s Mai Sakurajima’s boyfriend” looks.

Monday, January 16.

Only a few days left in the term.

The last week in January was reserved for makeup lectures, so this was the final week of classes. He only had to attend until Friday; then it was time for a long spring vacation.

When college started back up two months later, in April, Sakuta would be a sophomore.

Plenty of students were already in vacation mode, and the vibe was quite a bit like the end of the actual year. Like sports teams playing a dead rubber match. No one could really put their hearts into it.

Sakuta wasn’t any better; he headed through the morning gates at a leisurely stroll. Most final exams were done, and he’d written all his reports, so there was no need to panic.

Yawning, he moved just fast enough to get to class on time.

He sensed someone beside him.

“Morning.”

He glanced over and was surprised to find Touko Kirishima there.

She was wearing boots, a skirt, and a high-necked sweater with a coat over it. Typical college girl attire, blending in with the crowds. Had she not spoken to him, he would likely never have noticed her.

“Good morning,” he said, figuring he should start there. “What brings you to campus at this hour?”

“I’ve got classes.”

She made that sound normal.

“Even though you’re invisible?”

“I’m paying for them. Seems like a waste not to attend.”

A very solid argument.

That made him wonder.

“Wait, have you been coming to classes every day?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Touko laughed. Her mocking tone was all the answer he needed.

“Keep January thirtieth open,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ll let you have that date.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“You two-timing swine.”

Jeering at his answer, she vanished off toward the research building. Her retreating back blended right in with the crowd. Were it not for the fact that no one else could see her, she’d be a perfectly normal college girl.

Later that day, after his fourth-period class wrapped up, Sakuta went to the platform at Kanazawa-hakkei Station, where he found a blond college girl sitting on a bench. She was waiting for a train, listening to music on her wireless earphones.

He approached and sat down next to her.

“’Sup, Toyohama.”

“I’m clearly listening to something,” Nodoka grumbled, but she took the earphones out and pressed stop on her phone’s music player. “So? What is it?”

“What would you think if the most famous idol in the country started attending our college tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t know till it happened.”

A very Nodoka answer.

“Fair enough.”

“Wouldn’t exactly be thrilled, though.”

Nodoka put her earphones back in their case. On closer examination, they were the same kind Uzuki had done a commercial for.

“Even if it doesn’t bug me, everyone else’ll lump us together—we’re both idols—and start comparing and contrasting.”

“Sneering at you on the inside, giving you looks of pity?”

“You trying to start shit?”

“Take this hypothetical and shove it.”

Nodoka had reached her boiling point already, but she didn’t stay there long. A moment later, she’d cooled down enough to sigh dramatically.

“This about my sister, then?” she asked, refocusing. She crossed her legs and propped an elbow on them and her cheek on her palm.

“You’re way ahead of me, Toyohama.”

“Literally everything you do is about her, Sakuta.”

Her long lashes fluttered as she stared at the far side of the station.

“Well, yeah,” he said.

“So, what? You wanna make her out to be the baddie?”

Nodoka glared up at him.

“Do you think I’d do that?”

“It sure sounded like it.”

She sounded cross, and her narrowed eyes confirmed it.

“Mai’s, you know…special? That’s not the most intelligent-sounding phrasing, but everyone knows her; everyone loves her; just having her around changes things.”

“……”

Nodoka looked rather taken aback. She blinked at him.

“What’s with that look?”

“I just assumed you didn’t realize how special she is. You always act so normal around her, I figured you were oblivious.”

“She’s special to me, too.”

“Spare me.”

Cut down. Nodoka turned to face the tracks again. There were students on the far side, waiting for a train to take them the other direction.

“But I get what you’re trying to say, Sakuta.”

“You do?”

“When we first started here, I ran across plenty of girls of that ilk.”

“What ilk?”

He hadn’t specified any of that, but Nodoka really did know what he was talking about. With pinpoint accuracy.

“Why do you look surprised?”

“Well, it’s surprising.”

“I’m an idol? We’re all about status and identity.”

Nodoka kicked him. Not too hard.

“Idols shouldn’t kick fans.”

“You never even come to our shows.”

“I’ll be there once you land the Budokan.”

“I’m not putting you on the list. Buy your own ticket.”

“Cool, I’ll ask Zukki instead.”

He’d tossed that out, but it got a note of genuine irritation from Nodoka. She made a point of getting to her feet just so she could kick him harder.

“Ow!”

The blow to his calf made an audible thwack.

“Where’d you learn to kick like that?”

“I’m taking kickboxing to improve my stamina.”

Nodoka struck a fighting pose, showing off. It looked very good. Alarming. Perhaps he should consider teasing her less often. He didn’t wanna be her sandbag.

“The girls you deemed ‘that ilk’—what are they up to now?” he asked, rubbing his injury.

“It’s been a year. They’ve settled down.”

She flopped back onto the bench, sounding uninterested.

“Fair enough.”

“Either they got over it, gave up, or found some other way to measure their worth.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t go founding weird clubs on me.”

Nodoka punched his shoulder. They should probably make her quit kickboxing before she got herself arrested.

“But having Mai in your life has definitely changed you, Toyohama.”

In the fall of their second year of high school, her half sister—Mai—had triggered Nodoka’s Adolescence Syndrome. She’d been closer to Mai than anyone and was influenced accordingly.

“I…,” she began, and then her lips stilled.

When they moved again, she was talking to herself.

“She’s just so far away,” she whispered, eyes on the tracks. “No matter how hard I work, I’ll never catch up. I still don’t get how the world looks through her eyes. Her TV shows and movies are expected to be hits, and if they flop, she takes the blame for it, but—have you ever heard her complain? I can’t even imagine how that must feel.”

That did feel like distance.

“So, Sakuta…,” Nodoka said, turning to him.

She looked him right in the eyes, very intensely.

“Mm?”

“You’d better take my sister’s side.”

Nothing she’d said really answered his question.

But this last line was what mattered to him most.

The train pulled in. An express bound for Haneda Airport. They’d both be taking that to Yokohama Station.

“I will,” he said, standing up.

And once on his feet, he repeated those words inside his head.

4

Monday, January 30.

On a frigid morning, Sakuta got ready to go out and headed all the way to Kanazawa-hakkei Station—despite having no classes. It was just past ten. About the time he’d arrive for a second-period class.

It was quiet enough that he could hear his own footsteps.

It certainly made it easier to move around the station—he got up the stairs without anyone in his way and was out the gate without waiting in line.

The station roof gave way to a clear blue sky.

Down the stairs to the west was the two- to three-minute walk to campus. But today Sakuta went down the other set of stairs.

The Seaside Line ran on the bridge above. He passed beneath that, waited for walk lights twice to get across Route 16, then turned toward the water.

He followed the road until he saw the blue sign of a convenience store, at which point he turned right onto a side street.

Before him lay a pilgrim’s path across the waters. A torii gate appeared to greet him. The asphalt became gravel.

With each step, the noise of the main road grew distant, and the feel of the ocean grew stronger.

The path itself was four, five yards wide. Evergreen trees were on either side, marking the path.

It ran to the ocean, then across a little bridge with red railings. The bridge was so short it only took a few steps to cross.

On the other side, Sakuta found himself on an equally small island. Maybe ten paces across.

Nothing on it but Biwajima Shrine.

That would draw the eye on a normal day, but Sakuta’s attention lay elsewhere.

On the island’s shore.

A woman in a striking red outfit.

She hadn’t worn that miniskirt Santa outfit much recently.

The very girl who’d summoned him here.

Standing there, staring out at the sea.

His footsteps crunching on the gravel, Sakuta moved closer.

“Your songs will last a long time, too, Kirishima.”

He pulled up next to her, admiring the view. The Seaside Line filled his vision, running across the horizon. A sight no one in the Kamakura period could have imagined.

“Does music really last that long?” she asked, clearly dubious.

“Some does. Classical music is, what, three, four hundred years old?”

Didn’t seem like people were gonna just stop listening to that in a decade or two. A decade or two from now, people would probably be thinking this exact same thing. In which case, eight hundred years was totally viable. Even a cool thousand.

“Did you call me out here to talk about that?”

“Of course not. We’re picking up a car nearby.”

At last, Touko looked at him. But only for a second.

“Come,” she said. “I’ll let you be Santa’s little helper.”

With that, she headed back up the pilgrim path.

“If you’d warned me, I’d have brought a reindeer costume,” he said, following after.

Ten minutes later, Sakuta was in a car.

Specifically, he was in the passenger seat of a compact car that Touko was driving, having borrowed it from a car-share service.

“And here I thought Santa Claus drove a sleigh pulled by reindeer.”

They were headed north on Route 16.

“Do you have a license?” she asked.

“I’m starting driving school the day after tomorrow,” he said, eyes on oncoming traffic.

“What are you looking at?”

“Wondering what this looks like from the outside.”

“Like Mai Sakurajima’s boyfriend is having a secret tryst with another woman,” Touko said with a smirk. Clearly enjoying this.

But so far, only Sakuta and Miori could actually perceive her.

“A car driving without anyone in the driver’s seat must be pretty spooky.”

He’d definitely do a double take.

Like in a horror movie.

“This is how the world’s urban legends are born,” Touko said, like this didn’t affect her.

A driverless car on Route 16. A ghostmobile, hauling a passenger along. When he got home, he’d have to check online to see if anyone was talking about it.

“Oh yeah, is this bothering you?”

“How so?”

“Being alone with me. Aren’t you seeing anyone yourself?”

“Do I look single?”

“Not really.”

Sakuta had gone with his gut when he asked that question. The way Touko acted around him suggested she had a significant other. She wasn’t self-conscious around Sakuta the way most girls her age were around men. She carried herself in a way that spoke of experience. That applied here, too, with just the two of them in the car. None of that awkward tension as you tested the waters.

“I’m afraid you’re not quite right. I had one until spring arrived.”

“You broke up?”

“You may have noticed, but nobody can see me. My boyfriend included.”

He looked at her profile but saw no signs of emotion. Miniskirt Santa was just driving.

“How long were you together?”

“Since summer of the second year of high school.”

“So since you were back in Hokkaido?”

He knew she’d moved down here at the start of university.

“Right.”

“……”

That, Touko didn’t answer.

Her face was emotionless.

It was probably best for him to try a different angle.

“If he’s from Hokkaido, it must have turned into a long-distance relationship after you graduated, right?”

“We both took the exams here, but he flunked them.”

Touko pulled up behind the car in front of her, at a red light.

“That sure hits close to home.”

That may well have been Sakuta’s fate.

“Two years in a row.”

Even worse.

“Where is he now?”

At the very least, they’d still been together last spring. Touko had said so herself.

“He passed on the third try and enrolled here in the spring.”

The light turned green, and she followed the other car out.

“He finally caught up with you and then couldn’t perceive you anymore?”

“Exactly.”

Her voice was calm. Her attention was on the road.

“If I were him, I’d be flirting like mad. Making up for lost time.”

“……”

Touko said nothing. Her mind seemed to be on what had gone down.

“Were you happy when he told you he’d passed?”

“Less happy than relieved. I’m the one who wanted to come down here…and he followed my lead.”

“What’s his major?”

“Statistical science.”

Same as Sakuta.

“Do I know him?”

“……”

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t deny it, either. And that was all the answer he needed.

“Fukuyama, huh?”

He’d meant that as a simple confirmation, but his voice broke. It was an unexpected reveal, and he was a little worked up about it. He was surprised to find himself reacting that way.

“……”

Touko didn’t point that out. Or answer him one way or the other. She just kept driving.

“Does Fukuyama know Touko Kirishima is Nene Iwamizawa?”

“He does not.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Does your girlfriend share everything about her job?”

“Well, no, not everything.”

But was it possible to go out that long without him having any clue? Could Nene have avoided letting anything slip?

As Nene Iwamizawa, she’d boasted online about her modeling work, about the beauty contest. Gathering likes and followers.

Could a girl like that have kept Touko Kirishima under wraps?

Why would she need to keep it hidden from her own boyfriend?

That seemed like a major contradiction.

“Fukuyama knows about Touko Kirishima.”

“Seems like.”

“So why can’t he see you?”

“Because he doesn’t know I’m Touko Kirishima.”

If he’d connected that name to Nene Iwamizawa, Takumi should have been able to perceive Nene. Just like he could perceive the internet singer Touko Kirishima.

Sakuta got that logic. But was that all there was to it?

“Or is it because in his mind, you’re Nene Iwamizawa?”

Should he say this? Honestly, Sakuta wasn’t sure.

But he felt like not saying it would get them nowhere. He had to be sure.

“Are you really Touko Kirishima?”

He kept it simple.

And the answer came quick.

“I am Touko Kirishima.”

Like it was a statement of fact.

No hesitation.

No need for hesitation.

Because it was true.

Her attitude and tone sold that.

She wasn’t lying.

And to prove her words, Touko began to sing.

The song she’d live streamed on Christmas Eve.

The one he’d been too late to see.

A beautiful voice, echoing through the gate, proving beyond all doubt that she was Touko Kirishima.

At the time, Sakuta thought so. Felt it. And yet—it didn’t clear the air. There was still a shroud over things. An unseen truth, hidden in that fog. He found himself all the more convinced of it.

The car’s navigation system said, “Arriving at your destination.”

The map on-screen showed Yokohama’s Motomachi.

5

“Santa buys presents in Motomachi?”

Miniskirt Santa was walking in front of Sakuta, the heels of her boots clicking.

For that reason, many of the buildings here still showed traces of period Western architecture.

The shopping area retained that old-timey vibe, playing up the blending of cultures that took place then.

Here, you’d find ancient shops in business since Motomachi was founded right next to shops that had only just opened. The new mingling with the old. In a sense, this town had always been a cultural melting pot.

This place would be teeming on a weekend, but at noon on a weekday, crowds were sparse.

The miniskirt Santa walking around was glaringly out of place.

But of course, no one paid Touko any attention. No one noticed she was there.

The girl herself was way past caring. If she found a promising shop, she waltzed right in.

Her first choice sold casual clothing and household goods. She followed that up with a place that sold alligator-mark sportswear. Then two American fashion boutiques, followed by three menswear stores.

She looked at one thing in each place.

Men’s scarves.

Sometimes she turned Sakuta into her mannequin, testing one out, checking the color against his clothes. A smile playing around her lips, like she was a little carried away. Like she was picking out a gift for her boyfriend.

After an hour and a half of this, she went back to one of the American boutiques and purchased a bright-orange scarf.

“Buy this for me,” she said, handing it to him.

“Is that the end of Santa Claus’s demands?”

“I’ve got one more place to visit, so get a move on.”

Sakuta took the scarf from her.

“Please,” Touko said, her back already to him.

The scarf purchased, Sakuta went outside to find her sitting on a bench across the street, legs crossed. The winter air and Motomachi’s vibe worked weirdly well with the Santa Claus outfit.

“Here,” he said, handing Touko the scarf.

“Thanks,” she said, standing up as she took it from him. “Next.”

With that, she walked away, going one block off the main drag. She moved past a French restaurant famous for their fondant au chocolat. Farther down the road was a bakery so old they’d been the first in the area to start selling bread by the loaf.

Turning left there would take them back to the main street, but Touko went right, into the hills of Yamate.

They went up a gentle flight of stairs, along the foreign cemetery, moving steadily uphill. They passed the Yokohama Local Meteorological Observatory and beyond. There were lots of Western-style buildings in this area.

“How far are we going?”

“Almost there.”

“You say that, but we’ve been walking a good ten minutes.”

“Only seven or eight.”

“That’s basically ten.”

“Look! We’re here.”

She spun around, directing his attention to the white manor beside them. The exterior was decked out like a storefront, the decorations and vibe screaming Christmastime. There was a large white dog in the garden next door, but no signs of any reindeer.

“Looks like the house where Santa lives.”

It was exactly that sort of store. There was even a board hanging by the entrance showing a countdown to Christmas Day. It was only January, but clearly they couldn’t wait.

His first impression—

Well, probably everyone thought the same thing.

It was like stepping into a winter wonderland.

Santa Claus dolls, stuffed reindeer, snow globes with Christmas trees inside. Snowmen wearing Santa outfits. Christmas cards all over the walls. Left, right, on the floors and ceiling—everything was coated in Christmas.

In this one place, Touko’s miniskirt Santa outfit looked like normal attire. Sakuta’s clothes felt wrong.

“We’re looking for a tin reindeer. Palm size.”

That wasn’t quite finding a needle in a haystack, but finding one reindeer in a Christmas forest was still a tall order.

“In here?” he asked, aghast.

Touko ignored him, diligently searching, herself.

“Reindeer…reindeer…tin reindeer…,” Sakuta muttered, scanning the vast array of Christmas merch.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

A staff member had emerged from the back.

“Do you have any tin reindeer?”

“Oh, I think I know what you mean.”

That was easier than he’d thought. The man waved Sakuta farther in.

“Quite a few people have come here for these lately.”

He plucked a reindeer from the shelf and deposited it on Sakuta’s palm.

“Are they trending?” Sakuta asked.

“You tell me,” the man said, shrugging.

There was an awkward silence.

Sakuta showed Touko the reindeer, and she nodded.

“I’ll take it,” he said.

“The register’s this way.”

“Come by again!” the man said, seeing him out of the shop with a smile.

What a warm, welcoming place.

“Here’s your reindeer,” he said, holding out the bag. Touko took it but offered him the bag with the scarf in it.

“Is that for me?”

“Give it to Takumi.”

“Shouldn’t you be there with me?”

“……”

She stopped in her tracks.

“It’s Fukuyama’s birthday, right?”

“……”

“That’s why you picked this date?”

“No point in me going. Takumi can’t see me.”

“Maybe he will today.”

“I’ve tried several times.”

“Today might be different.”

“It’s none of your business,” she snapped, getting annoyed.

“It is. You’ve made it mine.”

“You asked for it.”

Touko’s glare was pushing him away.

He didn’t let her.

“I want you to quit this whole invisible thing and tell the world you’re Touko Kirishima,” he said, getting a bit worked up himself.

“For your girlfriend’s sake?”

“You know there’s still people out there who believe Mai is Touko Kirishima.”

“So why should I have to do anything for you and your girlfriend?”

“Because being Touko Kirishima is what you most want.”

“……”

“Our goals are aligned.”

“Lend me your phone. You’ve got Fukuyama’s number, right?”

“……”

“You bought a present because you’ve still got hope.”

“……”

“The scarf he’s wearing now is one you gave him, right?”

The new one was a similar color.

“The first birthday present I gave him after we started dating. It’s all worn out. He should just replace it.”

“It’s a gift from his girlfriend, so it’s important to him.”

“He can’t even see me.”

“Save your gripes for the man himself.”

Sakuta held out his hand, waiting for her phone.

“……”

Touko’s eyes were on his palm. Wavering. Part of her wanted to hope, but that was balanced against fears of having those hopes dashed again.

She hovered like that for a solid thirty seconds.

“…Fine,” she said.

He could barely hear her.

But she plopped her phone on his hand.

Sakuta opened the address book.

And dialed the number under Takumi.

He held the phone to his ear, listening to it ring.

The first call didn’t go through.

“……”

Takumi still didn’t pick up on the second.

“……”

Touko’s eyes were on him, expectant, tense.

He finally got a different result on his third attempt. A crackle on the line, and a moment later, “Yes?”

Takumi sounded dubious.

“Ah, Fukuyama? It’s me, Azusagawa.”

“Huh? Hah? Why?!”

Why was he calling from a cell phone?

Why did he know Takumi’s number?

He could imagine both questions swirling through the man’s mind.

But if he tried explaining that, the sun would set before they got to the point.

“Not important.”

“It is, though?!”

“Fukuyama, you out and about? I’m hearing crowd noise.”

“I’m at Kamata Station. Keikyu Line.”

The PA announced the arrival of a train bound for Sengakuji.

“Why Kamata?”

“’Cause I’m transferring to a train heading to Haneda. I’m going to the airport.”

“Back to Hokkaido?”

“Yep. I’ve got some stuff going on.”

He clearly didn’t wanna talk about it.

“So what do you want, Azusagawa?” he asked, before Sakuta could pry.

“You got time left?”

“I’m running early, so I have an hour till my flight.”

“Then wait in the airport. Got something for you.”

“Huh? What the—? You’re scaring me here, man!”

“Fukuyama, you said it’s your birthday, right?”

“It is.”

This seemed to rattle Takumi even more. Sakuta understood that. Had their positions been reversed, he probably would have felt the same.

“I’m actually a stickler for these things, so I got you a present.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll hang out in the airport departure lounge. Terminal 2.”

There was no time to waste, so he hung up.

“Haneda Airport,” he said, and Touko returned a soft nod.

6

The car entered the Bayshore Route from the Shinyamashita tollbooth.

“……”

“……”

Neither Sakuta nor Touko said a word at first. The tension in the car was so thick you could cut it.

Honestly, Sakuta thought going to see Takumi was a huge gamble. He had no way of knowing how this would turn out.

If the birthday scarf provided the impetus to make Takumi perceive Nana again, great. But the opposite was equally likely, and this might end with her sight unseen.

The first outcome naturally presented no issues.

But if the latter happened? The one possible solution he’d finally hit on might well go up in smoke. Betray Sakuta’s and Nene’s hopes. He couldn’t imagine what that would do to her. Maybe nothing…maybe it would make things far worse.

It was risky.

But he’d decided to bet on Takumi anyway.

Sakuta had no way to save Nene himself.

This wasn’t like when he’d declared his love for Mai before the whole school. To Nene Iwamizawa, Sakuta was nothing but a bystander. He was not part of her life.

If there was anyone who could really reach her, it was Takumi.

Sakuta had to bet on him.

The car was smoothly running across reclaimed land, down the Bayshore Route.

“Tell me about Fukuyama.”

“Like what?”

“Takumi never quite worked up the nerve, so I goaded him into it.”

“How?”

“I mentioned a third-year boy had asked me out. That lit a fire under him.”

Out the corner of his eye, he saw no smile on her face. Her voice was flat.

“I can see him sweating that.”

“It still took him a while.”

“That shows how much he meant it.”

“Is that how it works?” Touko glanced his way.

“I mean, I’d say something right away.”

Outside the left window, he saw a huge building—the steelworks.

“You even tell her how much you adore her on campus.”

“I usually just stick with love.”

“You’re very odd.”

This, he let pass.

He asked a different question instead.

“You and he went to the same high school?”

“Yeah, same junior high, too.”

“Were you aware of him then?”

“I knew he liked me.”

“What made you like him?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

Clearly, she wanted a break.

But Sakuta kept pushing.

“I like how you don’t have to watch what you say around him, and he doesn’t watch what he says to you.”

“For example?”

“When college started up, Fukuyama was the first one to just outright ask if it was true about me and Mai.”

Word got around almost immediately that he was dating Mai Sakurajima, and lots of people were curious. But no one dared come over and ask. They were letting sleeping dogs lie.

“You really dating Mai Sakurajima?”

That moment right there had forever changed Sakuta’s standing on campus. His relationship with Mai went from rumor to fact. From supposition to reality.

That was a bigger sea change than you’d think.

“For a man who can’t work up the nerve to ask a girl out, he was always good at that.”

“Like how?”

“In junior high, a boy moved from Tokyo to our area. A transfer student. He’d been avoiding school for a while, and rumors about that preceded him—everyone wound up waiting for someone else to talk to him first.”

Her hands were on the wheel, and her profile suggested she was taking a trip down memory lane.

“And Takumi was the first to talk to him, as if he hadn’t noticed any of that.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“I guess I owe that transfer student. That’s when I started noticing Takumi.”

“He’s been going to a lot of mixers, so you’ve got a right to be mad at him.”

“If he can see me, I will be.”

There was a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Still, never imagined Fukuyama was older than me.”

He was turning twenty-one today. Two years older than Sakuta.

“I’m gonna have to call him senpai.”

“Takumi will hate that.”

“Fitting punishment for a man who forgot his girlfriend.”

“You are a strange one.”

“I’m totally normal.”

Maybe five, ten minutes tops.

Not much to work with. It was unclear if that tiny window would be enough to make him perceive Nene Iwamizawa.

Knowing they were short on time was making things tense.

They could see the airport now.

A plane was taking off from it.

Finding parking took a bit of time, but they still made it into the airport proper a few minutes before the navigator had predicted.

But that was just the airport at large.

The entrance before them was one of the largest in the nation. Out of the car, they still had to get to Terminal 2, where Takumi was waiting.

Sakuta was definitely rushing on the way to the elevator.

“Fukuyama said Terminal 2.”

Touko pressed the button, calling the elevator. The down button.

It arrived promptly.

They jumped on, and Sakuta slammed the close-door button, then the button for the second floor—where the departures lobby was listed.

The elevator descended in silence.

Only Sakuta and Touko were on board.

“……”

“……”

Neither said a word. A hush filled the space. Seconds stretched to far longer.

At last, there was a ding.

There was an agonizing delay as the doors slowly opened, and then they were out in the departure lobby.

It stretched out wide in either direction. He looked left, then right, and he could barely see the far walls. The ceiling soared overhead.

Across from those were gift shops, airport eateries, and vending machines.

It was a regular weekday, so not that busy, but it still felt far too large to successfully locate any one dude.

“Gimme your phone. I’ll call him,” Sakuta said, but Touko’s eyes were looking past him.

“There he is.”

She pointed at a clock with a giant 2 at the top.

The man on the bench next to it was definitely Takumi. Jeans, a bulky coat, that old orange scarf around his neck, phone in his hand.

Sakuta took a deep breath and approached.

“Fukuyama,” he said.

Takumi jumped.

“You actually came.”

“I said I would.”

“Outta nowhere? I figured you were pulling my leg.”

He smiled, shaking his head. Very Takumi.

At the least, they were here in time.

Now for the hard part.

Sakuta had yet to work out how to broach the subject. There was no right answer. He didn’t think giving him the whole rundown on Nene Iwamizawa would do the trick. Takumi couldn’t see her. Could no longer perceive her. To him, she didn’t exist.

Still lost, Sakuta looked at Touko. She was standing to his side, a few steps back.

She took one step closer, her lips moving.

“Takumi,” she said. Her boyfriend’s name.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re here, but I’m pressed for time,” Takumi said, eyes on Sakuta alone. Never once glancing Touko’s way. Only talking to Sakuta.

Sakuta could see Touko’s hands tightening around the present.

“I gotta put my bags through security, or I won’t make it.”

Their interaction involved no interaction. So Sakuta spoke up.

“Fukuyama.”

“Mm?”

“Your scarf.”

“This?” Takumi grabbed the dangling end.

“Do you remember who gave it to you?”

“Who…? Uh. Huh.”

Takumi tried to answer, then froze.

“……”

His expression filled with doubt. He frowned, as if unsure why he didn’t know. His lips were pursed.

“What the—? Why don’t I…?”

He was talking to himself, but thinking didn’t get him anywhere. He had no answers.

“You’ve forgotten someone important.”

“…Huh? What do you mean?”

Takumi’s bafflement increased.

“That scarf was a present from your high school girlfriend.”

“Nah, man, no way!”

Takumi cackled, taking it as a joke.

“……”

But Sakuta was dead serious. Didn’t smirk or chuckle.

“You really got that from your girlfriend, Fukuyama,” he insisted.

“……”

This time Takumi reacted with silence.

His smile was still frozen—but slowly fading.

“……Sorry, man. I dunno what you’re talking about,” he managed, a full ten seconds later.

“You’ve forgotten her, Fukuyama. More accurately—you can no longer perceive her.”

“……”

“You can’t remember who gave you the scarf, right?”

“……Well, no.”

“……”

Touko was standing right next to him, watching their conversation, lips taut.

“Cross my heart and hope to die—you had a girlfriend in high school.”

“……”

Takumi’s expression didn’t change. It was stiff with doubt and confusion.

“You went to junior high together, and you asked her out in your second year of high school.”

“……”

No matter what he said, Takumi just kept staring at Sakuta. He was listening seriously but understanding none of this. He must’ve been baffled by how outlandish this story was, but he was still hearing Sakuta out.

“Her name’s Nene Iwamizawa.”

He heard Touko gasp at the name.

But Takumi just said, “Sorry, never heard of her before.”

Nene froze. All emotion drained from her eyes.

“Did I really date her?”

“The scarf proves it.”

Takumi looked down at it.

“……”

For a long moment, he just stared. No emotion on his face.

The silence was stifling.

“Azusagawa, sorry, but…”

He’d never seen Takumi this thoroughly at a loss.

“…I don’t get it.”

This whole thing seemed to be wearing him out.

Takumi mustered a weak smile. He seemed to be trying to wrap up this conversation he could not even begin to understand.

—but before the words left his mouth, an announcement echoed from the lobby speakers.

“Passengers on Flight 555 for New Chitose Airport, please make your way to baggage inspection.”

“Augh, crap, gotta go.”

Takumi grabbed his suitcase and got up.

“Wait, Fukuyama!”

“We’ll talk more when I’ve got time. Sorry, seriously in a rush.”

They headed toward security, but Sakuta wasn’t letting go.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not lying!”

“I know you well enough, Azusagawa. I believe that much.”

“This is real!”

“I hear you!”

And that was all the time he had. Takumi tapped his phone to the entrance gate and was through to security. Sakuta didn’t have a ticket and couldn’t follow him farther.

Takumi turned back once to wave.

Sakuta raised a hand in acknowledgment.

“Thanks for seeing me off!” Takumi said—and vanished through the metal gate.

There was nothing else Sakuta could do.

He’d known this was possible.

But he had hoped it would not end this way.

He couldn’t help but be disappointed.

And Touko must feel even worse.

Sakuta turned back to the bench they’d started on.

“Kirishima…?”

No sign of her.

No miniskirt Santas anywhere.

All he found was a wrapped present.

A gift from Santa Claus, left behind where Touko had been standing.

“That’s all for today.”

Sakuta’s check sheet received a red stamp from the round-headed instructor at the driving school. It was their first day, so they’d learned the principles of safe driving and done some basic practice on a driving simulator. They’d be in a real car next time.

He was taking driving lessons in Ofuna, one station down the Tokaido Line from Fujisawa. A white Kannon statue overlooked the station itself, and the school was a five-minute walk north from there. The address was in Yokohama City, but the school’s name said Kamakura. The station was Ofuna, the address Yokohama, and the school itself Kamakura—a veritable smorgasbord of place-names.

“See you next time. Work hard, drive safe.”

“Thank you,” he said, bobbing his head to the instructor, and he headed to the lobby.

At the reception desk, he reserved his next lesson and was done there.

He must have been a bit nervous; once it was all over, he found himself letting out a long breath.

Then he muttered, “Now what?”

Not about the driving school. His mind was already veering toward other things.

To the major headache in his life.

Touko Kirishima…aka Nene Iwamizawa.

Perhaps it was best to admit he’d blown it.

He’d rushed back to the parking lot, but the compact Touko had driven was already gone, and the girl with it.

She’d ditched him and gone home alone.

He’d been forced to take the train home, carrying Takumi’s birthday present with him. It was now sitting in his apartment.

This was far from ideal.

Still, Takumi remained his one real hope. Sakuta could not see any other means by which to cure Nene Iwamizawa’s Adolescence Syndrome. Even if one existed, he didn’t have time to hunt for it. It was February 1. Mai would be put in a coma on February 4—too close for comfort.

What could he say to prod Takumi into action? Sakuta was coming up empty. No matter how true his words were, it would likely be a repeat of the debacle at the airport.

Even if Takumi believed what he said, that meant nothing if he couldn’t actually see Nene. Nothing mattered unless he could perceive her again.

Restoring Takumi’s memories of Nene Iwamizawa was the first order of business.

But where would he even begin?

That’s what he didn’t know.

He didn’t have the first clue.

And that had prompted his earlier “Now what?”

“You’ve got the cutest girlfriend in the world, yet you don’t look too happy.”

The voice came from right next to him.

He looked up and found a familiar face.

Miori, with a smile on her lips.

“You’re at this driving school, Mitou?”

“First day.”

“Aha! Feel free to ask me anything.”

She slapped his shoulder, acting like a helpful senpai.

“What’s your take on the miniskirt Santa?” he asked.

“I meant about cars.”

Miori shot him her “You know better” face. Naturally, he did. And had chosen to ask what he really wanted to know instead.

“You said anything, Mitou.”

“Fine, be that way. I had something to show you on that subject anyway.”

He had not expected that.

“Something to show me?”

No clue what this could be.

“You have time?” she asked, head tipped slightly to the side. Most men would take one look at that face and go anywhere with her, and Sakuta was no exception.

“I’m not working today, so I have all the time in the world.”

“Then onward!” Miori said, waving her hand as if it were a banner in battle. Like magic—the driving school doors slid open.

“Here.”

Miori took him to the south gate of Ofuna Station. They were outside a tonkatsu shop on the first floor of the building opposite.

“Why tonkatsu?”

“I’ve got you with me, Azusagawa. Figured I’d try a place that’s hard to enter on my own.”

That was a very college-girl sentiment.

“Hellooo!” she cried, stepping in.

“Clearly not that hard,” he muttered to no one in particular, then followed her in.

Since he was here, he’d have to order something. Sakuta glanced over the menu and went with the classic pork loin katsu. Miori dithered for ages and then ordered something called the Black Katsu Curry.

“So what did you wanna talk about, Mitou?” he asked, after taking a sip of water.

“Gimme a sec.”

Miori reached for her tote bag. Pulled out the laptop with the fruit logo.

She booted it up on the table next to them.

Tapped a few keys and turned it sideways so he could see.

“This,” she said.

She had a video-streaming site pulled up, with a triangular play button in the center.

The still frame showed only darkness.

“I can’t see anything?”

“You’re about to,” Miori said, hitting the play button.

The video opened on a smallish indoor venue. The stage was being filmed vertically from someone’s phone. The stage reminded him of something.

“Isn’t that our college?”

“Yep. This is the beauty contest from last year—or I guess the year before last, now.”

She had the volume turned down low, so he leaned in to listen. There was a crowd murmur, like a theater before the movie. Everyone waited with bated breath.

“There, see?”

Miori pointed at the screen just as a college girl entered from the wings. She wore a pure-white dress, her back ramrod straight, her heels clicking on the floor. Nene Iwamizawa, doing a classic model walk.

The MC said, “Entry number one, Nene Iwamizawa. Demonstrating her talent.”

She took a deep breath.

And the noise of the crowd died away.

A moment later, Nene’s fingers danced across the keys, playing a melody he’d heard before.

“That one of Touko Kirishima’s songs?” he asked, glancing at Miori.

She nodded wordlessly, eyes on the screen.

The long intro ended.

Nene closed her eyes, and her voice softly rippled out across the room. An invisible wave of song, washing through him.

The feel of it lapping at him came after, a rush of emotion rising up from his feet and cresting at the top of his head.

The crowd was rendered speechless. Everyone there had likely meant to cheer, to clap, to go wild…to get themselves hyped up. Instead, they were overwhelmed.

Her voice was just that powerful.

Sakuta’s own jaw dropped and stayed that way for the duration of the video.

Nene’s song ended, her talons still in the heart of everyone present.

The piano part ended shortly after.

But still the hall stayed silent.

Only when Nene rose to her feet did they erupt. Excitement was evident in their roars.

“Wow!”

“Amazing!”

“Like the real thing!”

Call after call. People whistled.

The applause went on and on.

Their enthusiasm showed no signs of fading.

It seemed ready to last forever.

The video ended first.

It cut to black while the crowd was still at a fever pitch.

“Two million…”

That’s what it said.

“And these comments,” Miori said, scrolling down.

So good.

She’s legit great.

And sounds just like Touko Kirishima.

Their voices are identical.

Is she the real deal?

Someone prove it!

She’s clearly Touko Kirishima.

“The last comment was left in April. Ten months ago.”

“After that, no one could perceive her?”

That was probably an accurate guess.

“Do we have Touko Kirishima singing this same song?”

“Right over here.”

Miori had the URL ready. She must have known he’d ask.

She pressed play.

A music video started playing. A tin reindeer toy sat on a swing in a children’s park. He’d seen that toy before.

“That reindeer…”

The one Nene had him buy on their trip to Motomachi, in the Yamate Santa house.

As he was distracted by that, the prelude ended, and the verse began. The first syllable alone grabbed his attention. That’s how similar it sounded to Nene Iwamizawa’s own performance. The first and second verses, the chorus, even the bridge—none of it sounded any different.

If he hadn’t known better, he’d never even have suspected they weren’t the same singer. He’d have simply assumed they were.

It was plain as day why those comments had been full of people claiming Nene was the real deal.

“Based on this alone, I’m inclined to think she is Touko Kirishima.”

Comparing the two videos had only made it more convincing.

“Nene Iwamizawa’s account got a lot of posts asking if it was true.”

“You sure looked into this, Mitou.”

“I mean, if only you and I can see her—that’s pretty scary.”

A very valid point.

“So what’s your take?”

“On what?”

“Whether they sound alike.”

“They do?”

But that sounded like a question.

“You don’t think she’s the real thing?”

“See, I also found this.”

Miori reached out and switched to a new tab.

This showed a whole list of posted videos. She scrolled down, and it went on for a while—there were easily over a hundred of them.

Every thumbnail had Touko Kirishima’s name.

Miori clicked one at random.

The song playing was the same one they’d just heard in two separate versions. On-screen was what looked like a recording studio, and the girl singing was in her early twenties, with long hair. The camera was placed directly to her side.

Her voice sounded just like Nene’s. Or just like Touko Kirishima’s.

At the least, a single listen was not enough to declare it different.

“What is this?” he asked, giving Miori a baffled look.

“Totally normal videos you find when searching Touko Kirishima’s name online. There’s hundreds of them.”

“And they’re all just like her?”

“Mm-hmm.”

She nodded emphatically.

“And the comments are sure they’ve found the real one.”

Miori’s finger slid down the track pad.

This one’s real!

We’ve got her this time!

More or less the same things as on Nene’s video.

“Play count is roughly the same.”

Miori didn’t seem to know what to make of this.

“Two million?”

She nodded.

“The upload dates are all over the place, but on every video—the comments abruptly die off. Just like they do with Nene Iwamizawa.”

Miori was even less sure what to make of that information.

Sakuta was starting to get her point—but also didn’t know what to do with it. If he’d looked in a mirror, he would’ve seen that his expression was the spitting image of Miori’s.

“I find this hard to believe…but do we think nobody can see these people, either?” Miori asked.

A strained smile appeared on her face.

“I sure hope not…”

Not wanting to finish that thought, Sakuta trailed off.

It felt possible.

And that was why Miori was asking.

And why he could only answer with an awkward wince.

The silence was excruciating.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes, indeed.”

Nothing they could say would alleviate their concern.

All they could do was give each other forced smiles.

At which point…

“Here you are,” the waitress said, setting two trays down.

One had Sakuta’s pork loin katsu set.

And the other had Miori’s Black Katsu Curry.

“Uh, excuse me…,” he said, catching the waitress’s attention before she turned away.

“Yes? What is it?” she asked, smiling.

He glanced at Miori, who held up the laptop for the lady to see. The video was already running.

It showed the same twentysomething girl they’d been watching.

“Video? Sorry, I’m not seeing anything.”

“Do you hear any music?” he asked. Miori turned the volume up.

Loud enough to be heard throughout the shop.

“I might not be young enough,” the lady laughed. “Is this the mosquito-alarm thing? Oh dear, I’m not ready to be old!”

“Thanks,” he said. “Bit of a weird ask, but it helped.”

“Oh? Well, enjoy.”

She saw someone new come in and went off to welcome them.

Miori quietly closed the laptop and put it back in her bag.

“Extra yikes.”

Her smile was very strained.

He imagined his was, too.

He really meant it when he said, “Yikes is the word.”

Miori lost half her smile.

Sakuta’s was surely faltering just as much.

“Guess we should eat.”

The one salvation here—the pork loin katsu and the Black Katsu Curry both looked very good.

“Yeah. Let’s do that.”

“Let’s.”

2

“Super-duper yikes.”

Sakuta had split up with Miori at Ofuna Station and taken the train back to Fujisawa. On his usual walk home, he found himself saying that word over and over.

“Yiiiikes.”

On the gentle slope.

As he peered into his mailbox.

And on the elevator up.

He said “Yikes” again as he turned the key in the door.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d said it.

Because Nene Iwamizawa wasn’t the only invisible woman?

Or because he’d found that out?

Likely the latter.

If only he’d remained blissfully ignorant.

“Seriously, yikes,” he said, stepping inside.

As he took off his shoes, the phone rang.

“Yes, yes, coming,” he said, hustling down the hall.

The number on the display looked vaguely familiar.

He went ahead and answered.

“Hello?”

Proper manners.

He heard someone gulp. They seemed tense.

“Is this the Azusagawa residence?”

That voice told him at once who this was. No wonder the number had looked familiar.

The caller added, “This is Fukuyama speaking.”

“It’s me. What’s up?”

“Whew! Azusagawa! Get a cell phone, man. It was hard as hell digging up your number. I started with Asuka from the mixer…”

“The future nurse?”

There’d been a couple of girls from the nursing program at that mixer. Asuka and Chiharu.

“Yep, yep. That got me to Kamisato, then to her boyfriend, and finally to you.”

“Surprised Kunimi told you.”

Personal information was sensitive these days.

“I told him it was an emergency, and he hooked me up.”

Since he’d gone through Saki, the couple had known who Takumi was. That had probably done the trick.

“First, sorry about the airport thing.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“I didn’t really listen. I had no idea what you were getting at.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Nene was the one who’d taken that hard. Sakuta had no clue what she’d been up to since. He’d called a few times, but she hadn’t picked up.

“I said a lot at once, Fukuyama. How you handling it?”

“Uh, well, that’s why I’m calling.”

Just as it had at the airport, his tone dropped a notch. He seemed to be talking slower than usual, and that was likely the case. Before he spoke again, Takumi let out a long sigh—probably entirely unconscious.

“I got called back to Hokkaido.”

“That sounds like bad news?”

“Yeah, it was. Classmate of mine from junior high got hit by a car, passed away.”

His voice sounded distant. As though he was talking to himself.

“You were close?”

“Different high schools, hadn’t seen each other since we graduated…but we talked a lot in junior high. He’d transferred in from Tokyo in our second year.”

This must be the transfer student Nene had told Sakuta about. The same one who’d first made her notice Takumi.

“I was headed to his funeral, couldn’t really think about anything else.”

“I sure picked the worst timing, then.”

“But rushing back home was the right choice. They say funerals are for the living, and I get why.”

There was a wistful note in Takumi’s voice, like he was talking to the skies above.

“So you said your good-byes?”

“I did. Bawled my eyes out. Old classmates laughed at me.”

But the emotions were flooding back, and his voice had choked up.

“You called to share that?”

“No, well, yeah, but…this is something I heard at the wake.”

“What?”

“About the dreaming hashtag.”

Sakuta hadn’t paid that phrase much attention the last couple of weeks. After Coming-of-Age Day, the media had largely dropped the topic, so it had been out of sight, out of mind.

It felt like a thing of the past already.

“Is that still big up in Hokkaido?”

“Still is in Tokyo, too. Comes up at every mixer.”

“First I’ve heard of it.”

“You ain’t on social media much, huh?”

“So what’s the hashtag got to do with it, Senpai?”

“The friend who died? He didn’t have a Christmas Eve dream.”

“Yeah?”

Most grown-ups hadn’t experienced these freakishly real dreams. Even in his own generation, there were exceptions—like Mai and Touko.

“People think they show the future, right?”

“That’s a widely held view.”

Sakuta had them pegged as something else, though.

“So our old classmates are thinking if you didn’t dream, it’s because you’ll be dead.”

“……”

This had not occurred to him.

If you didn’t exist in the future, how could you dream about it?

The equation added up.

The logic was sound.

“I know it’s far-fetched, but I feel like you mentioned Sakurajima not having one of those dreams, so…”

So he’d felt the need to call.

Nothing revealed here was set in stone.

But Takumi had helped him put several pieces together.

Tomoe’s dream.

Mai’s lack thereof.

If Mai really did wind up in a coma after being police chief for a day, and she was still unconscious by the date of so many other dreams—April 1—then that would explain why she hadn’t dreamed.

But there were still contradictions. In those same April 1 dreams, Mai had been up and about, onstage telling everyone she was Touko Kirishima.

If she was in a coma, how was she onstage, showing off her singing chops?

Did that bring Ikumi’s theory into play? That these dreams weren’t the future, but a glimpse of another world? Another potential reality?

The truth seemed to be leaning in that direction, but it would never do to assume.

Takumi had helped him find more possibilities. But he felt like this was only the tip of the iceberg.

“Also, Azusagawa.”

“What, Senpai?”

“That right there!”

“What right there?”

“Why’d you start calling me that?!”

“I respect my elders.”

“……”

Takumi seemed dumbfounded.

“Turns out, you’re two years older than me.”

“How do you know that?! I never told anyone!”

His voice was almost a yelp.

“Heard about it from someone who knows you well, Senpai.”

“You mean…the girlfriend you were talking about at the airport?”

“Yep.”

He sounded convinced. More than Sakuta had expected.

“You’re buying into my ravings?”

“I’ve had this nagging feeling I’m forgetting something. Like that time you asked me why I’d picked this college.”

Sakuta hadn’t read much into it, but Takumi had certainly seemed rather confused.

“Like, I should know this…so why don’t I?”

That made sense now.

Sakuta knew exactly why Takumi couldn’t remember the motive behind his choice of higher education.

He’d only taken these exams to be with Nene Iwamizawa. But he could no longer perceive her. With Nene at the heart of his motivation, her absence removed his very reason to be here.

“And what you said at the airport—about the scarf? I started thinking, Maybe that’s why.”

“If you’re taking my word for it, try to remember her.”

“I’ll try, sure.”

“Try harder! She didn’t dream, either.”

“……”

He heard Takumi gulp.

“She might be in trouble.”

“That bad?”

“That bad.”

“……”

“I’ve got my hands full with Mai, so she’s all yours, Senpai.”

“If I pull it off, will you promise to stop calling me that?”

“Sure thing, Senpai.”

“Consider me motivated.”

Takumi chuckled.

Sakuta found himself relaxing a bit, too.

“Might be for the best you’re back home. Try looking through your yearbooks. Maybe it’ll trigger something.”

“Same.”

“Then this is good-bye.”

The call ended.

Sakuta put the phone down but picked it back up immediately.

He dialed Mai’s number.

It rang several times before she answered.

“Sakuta? What is it?”

That alone prompted a sigh of relief.

He could only reply with one word.

“Mai.”

“Yes?”

“Can I see you right now?”

“You have excellent timing.”

“Oh?”

The intercom rang.

Hoping, he pressed the answer button.

Mai was on the display.

“It’s cold out. Let me in.”

“Right away.”

He pressed the unlock button and hung up the phone.

Unable to wait for her to reach his floor, Sakuta moved to the door, put sandals on, and stepped outside.

He heard the elevator doors open down the hall.

And a moment later, he saw her.

“Mai,” he called.

She looked a bit taken aback, but that soon softened.

“What’s wrong?” she said, approaching him.

Sakuta moved toward her.

The distance between them was five yards.

With each step, that shrank. Four yards. Then three.

Finally, Mai stopped a step away from him.

Sakuta didn’t stop—he swept her into his arms.

Mai’s tone didn’t change at all.

But she could feel his arms shaking.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, gently.

He had only one answer.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he said.

That didn’t tell her much.

She didn’t know what he did.

But she knew something had happened.

And that was enough for them.

“Then I’ll keep you safe, Sakuta.”

With that, her arms closed around him.

Back inside, the phone was ringing.

Nasuno looked up at the sound, and it went to the answering machine.

“I need your help with something. On February third, be at the following address: Yokohama City, Kanazawa—”

It was Touko Kirishima calling.

3

February 3. Setsubun.

By three thirty, the sun was already pretty low in the west.

Sakuta was outside a three-story apartment building about ten minutes on foot from Kanazawa-hakkei Station.

“This the place?”

The lot number on the utility pole matched the address he’d scribbled on a Post-it Note.

He’d taken that from the message Touko had left on his answering machine two nights earlier. He’d called back to see what was up, but she hadn’t answered.

With no other option, he’d gone where she told him to.

The note specified room 201.

He went up the stairs and checked the door. Number 201 was at the far end.

No name on the tag.

Just a blank, utilitarian door.

He had no clue who lived here.

If he rang the intercom, he might find himself face-to-face with a total stranger.

But hovering around outside a random apartment just made him look suspicious. He quit dithering and pressed the button.

He heard a bell ring inside.

The button worked, at least.

“Hope I’m not stepping into the lion’s den.”

Sakuta perked up when he heard footsteps inside coming toward him. They stopped at the door, and he heard the lock turn. The door swung open.

A familiar face popped out.

Touko, in her miniskirt Santa duds.

The very girl who’d called him here.

“I came like you said.”

“Drop these in the dumpster below,” she said, handing him two very full bags in lieu of a greeting.

“What are they?” he asked. They were both very heavy.

“Go on,” she said, not answering. The door closed.

Standing outside with two bags of trash made him look so sketchy. He didn’t want a neighbor calling the cops on him. Nene was invisible and would not be able to vouch for him.

That left him carrying the trash back down the stairs he’d just come up. The plastic was transparent enough that he could tell it was mostly clothing.

Quite a lot of it.

A few years’ worth.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, located the metal container where the residents disposed of their trash, and opened the lid.

He picked one bag up and tossed it in. As he threw the second in, he heard a clunk.

“Hmm?”

He was unaware of the contents, and curiosity got the better of him.

This might not be something that should go in the regular trash. She’d asked him to do this, but he was the one dropping it here; best to sort it properly.

He yanked the bag back out of the dumpster and checked the bottom. Something gleamed through the bag. By the sound of it, not anything plastic. Glass or at least plexiglass.

He opened the bag to double-check.

And soon identified the object.

“Her beauty contest trophy.”

The name of the contest was carved into the side.

And no surprise, the winner’s name was Nene Iwamizawa.

Was this something you threw away?

Presumably, she thought so, or she wouldn’t have put it in the bag.

Sakuta thought about it for a minute, then tossed the bag of clothes back in the dumpster. If he threw the trophy out here, that would make it his fault.

He went back up the stairs, inspecting the trophy for any damage. Outside her door, he rang the bell again.

“Took you long enough,” she said grumpily.

“Most people would say thank you first.”

“Thank you, you were such a help.”

“And did you mean to throw this out?”

He showed Touko the trophy.

She looked down at his hands. Right at it.

“Do you often put things in the trash you don’t mean to throw away?” she asked.

“Good! We’re the same.”

“Isn’t this important, though? To Nene Iwamizawa?”

He gave the name on the trophy a pointed glance.

“Who’s that?” she asked, like it wasn’t her.

“Your name.”

“What are you talking about? I’m Touko Kirishima.”

Touko was acting entirely natural. Reacting to his words. No interest in the trophy at all. She’d barely glanced at it. Didn’t seem to be feigning indifference. Just didn’t care, like it wasn’t hers to begin with. Touko didn’t seem to have any attachment to the trophy at all.

On Nene Iwamizawa’s social media, she’d sounded beyond thrilled to win the competition. Expressed her delight, thanked everyone who’d made it possible…

This trophy was proof of that accomplishment. Would she really just toss it out?

Touko’s attitude was all too clear, and that’s what bothered him. Something felt wrong. Unsettling.

She’d said “Who’s that?” like they were talking about a stranger.

He’d picked up on nothing like this on their trip to Motomachi.

But Sakuta wasn’t really sure what the nature of this oddity was.

He knew something was wrong, but not what.

Arguably, Touko had always been kinda weird about this stuff.

“Come on in,” she said, opening the door all the way.

“Thanks,” he said, putting his doubts aside. He stepped through the door, figuring she hadn’t called him all the way here just to take out her trash.

“Use those slippers.”

The doormat had a Christmas tree on it, and the slippers were adorned with reindeer. Certainly matching the miniskirt Santa theme.

It didn’t seem weird yet.

He just figured it was her thing.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, moving on in.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Sakuta started to follow her—but soon ground to a halt.

“……”

The moment he caught a glimpse of the room beyond, surprise ripped through him, and he stopped on pure reflex.

For the simple reason that the interior was beyond his wildest imaginings.

The object in the center first drew his eye—a Christmas tree, decked out in gold and silver ornaments. It was about the same height as Sakuta himself.

On the shelves by the wall were pine cone trees, snow globes, and Santa dolls. Among these was the tin reindeer she’d had him buy in Motomachi. There was a little sled filled with gift boxes.

The only normal objects in the room were the sleeper sofa and a work desk, on which sat a laptop with a fruit logo. Everything else was coated in Santa Claus and Christmas.

Definitely not your typical college-girl pad. He could have dealt with this if it had actually been that time of year and she was having friends over for a Christmas party. But it was February 3. Setsubun—a completely different holiday.

“Don’t just stand there. Come.”

“A very unique room,” he said.

Arguably, this was the kind of place a miniskirt Santa would live.

From the description alone, it might even sound festive. Children might like it! But after seeing it with his own eyes, fear was winning out.

Sakuta looked around again, and a stuffed Santa looked back at him. Beady little eyes, staring. He wanted to turn around and go home. Prolonged exposure to this place might drive him mad.

“Put this together.”

On the table were toy blocks made by a Danish company. Pieces were everywhere, and the set was only half-assembled.

“Boys are good at these things, yes?”

“I imagine not all of us.”

“But you?”

“I do all right.”

She put down a snowman cushion for him, and he sat on it, looking over the instructions. The complete version would be a lodge with a very pointy snow-capped roof. There were people living inside, and a Santa figure, so clearly this was a scene depicting a visit from Santa. It was pretty nifty.

All she had done was the ground and foundations.

“I’ll get to work.”

First, he sorted the blocks by color. Gray chimney bits, brown lodge walls, white and blue for the roof. Once that was done, he started building the walls.

Touko sat across the table, watching him work.

That alone was sort of like a date. If this had been his house and Mai were across the table, he’d have enjoyed it. But this was not his house, and he was not with Mai. It was Santa’s house, and a miniskirt Santa was watching him build. What was the point?

Wondering, he plugged away at the task before him. When he couldn’t bear it any longer, he decided to broach the topic at hand—the reason he’d come over when she called.

“Remember that #dreaming thing around Christmas last year?”

“What about it?”

“A lot of young people got presents from you and had dreams of the future.”

“So?”

Touko’s eyes were on his fingers as he rummaged through the blocks.

“I really don’t care.”

She was brushing him off.

He didn’t let that stop him.

“They say if you didn’t dream on Christmas Eve, it means you have no future to dream about.”

“Meaning…?”

Touko looked up, her eyes shooting him a question.

“Because you’re dead.”

He didn’t mince words.

This was something that needed to be clear.

“……”

“Kirishima, you said you didn’t dream.”

He slotted a window into the wall.

“Like your girlfriend,” Touko said, testing the waters.

“And this isn’t just rumors. Someone actually did die.”

“Someone you know?”

“Someone you know.”

“……”

A momentary silence.

Filled with the sound of blocks clicking into place.

“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone dead.”

“The boy who transferred from Tokyo in junior high.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Touko’s tone never wavered. She didn’t bat an eye at the news of a dead acquaintance. There was not a shred of surprise, or even a hint of sadness. Given what he’d just said, this was not nearly a strong enough reaction, and it bothered him.

“……”

His doubts about her attitude must have shown on his face. This conversation wasn’t adding up. It was like he was trying to slot a block into the wrong place.

“Fukuyama was rushing back to Hokkaido to be at that boy’s funeral.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about, Kirishima?”

This was weird. Touko had been acting weird since he got here. There was a disconnect. He was sure of that but not sure where it was.

As he searched for words, Touko spoke first.

“Who the hell is Fukuyama?”

That caught him off guard.

That was more than weird. Way beyond a simple disconnect. Sakuta locked up completely, not believing his ears. She did not just say that.

“Takumi Fukuyama, your boyfriend!”

He got a bit loud, leaning in.

“Never heard of him,” Touko said, leaning back, resting on her hand.

She had a baffled look on her face. She blinked twice.

“You’ve been dating since Hokkaido!”

“News to me!”

This could not be taken as a joke.

“Do you really not know this?!”

He’d completely forgotten about the set he was building.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, looking actively annoyed.

“Fukuyama! The boy Nene Iwamizawa was dating!”

He looked her right in the eyes, pleading, hoping for any sign of recognition.

But got none.

He’d braced himself for another denial.

But Touko blew right past his expectations.

In the worst way.

“That’s another name I don’t know,” she sighed.

“Huh?”

“Who’s this Iwamizawa?”

She’d drawn a blank.

Asking because she genuinely didn’t know.

That was not a performance.

This was real, and he didn’t know why and could not understand how.

A shiver ran through him. Like his heart had frozen over.

The Christmas and Santa Claus decorations no longer seemed nearly as freakish. Touko herself was far more unsettling.

“Recognize this trophy?” he croaked.

“No. That’s why I threw it out. And then you brought it back.”

“You really don’t recognize it?”

“I do not. That’s what I said.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“……”

Was Sakuta in the wrong? Touko was so consistent it was starting to feel that way.

She didn’t know what she didn’t know.

She was being perfectly clear.

“That’s good enough. Go home,” Touko said, exasperated.

She got to her feet, glaring down at him.

Looking up at her, he asked one last question.

“You don’t even know that you’re Nene Iwamizawa?”

How was that possible?

A few days before, she’d definitely remembered that. She’d talked about her time with Takumi back in Hokkaido, told him how they’d first met.

No way she’d forget that unless she, like, had amnesia.

And yet this was actually happening, right in front of him.

“I don’t know a Nene Iwamizawa. I’ve never heard the name. Satisfied?”

She genuinely didn’t know she was Nene Iwamizawa.

“Like I keep saying, I’m Touko Kirishima.”

All she had left was this identity.

“……”

Sakuta got to his feet, unable to say another word.

“Throw that away on your way out,” Touko said, glancing at the trophy on the table with complete indifference.

Nothing he could say would get through to her.

So he reached out and grabbed the trophy.

“I’ll be going, then. All you have left is the roof and chimney,” he said, looking at the blocks.

“I can handle that much. Thanks.”

This last word felt entirely hollow.

Had he done anything for her?

Pondering that, he moved to the door. Took off the reindeer slippers on the Christmas doormat. Put on his shoes and went outside without even looking back.

On the way down the stairs, he felt eyes on his back, but he neither paused nor turned around.

Sakuta kept moving until he reached the dumpster.

He looked down at the clear trophy in his hand.

The prize for winning the beauty contest one school year back.

Nene Iwamizawa’s name engraved upon it.

Proof she’d existed.

But if the girl herself was no longer aware of that fact, did this name hold any meaning?

If she’d forgotten, and Takumi—and the rest of the world—could not perceive her, then was Nene Iwamizawa even alive?

“Maybe that’s why she didn’t dream.”

If existence was defined by your own perceptions and those of others, then Nene Iwamizawa might as well be dead.

He raised the lid and looked down at the two bags she’d asked him to throw out.

“She was throwing away Nene Iwamizawa’s life?”

The trophy in his hand also belonged to Nene Iwamizawa.

Touko Kirishima had no need of it.

“At least throw it out yourself,” he growled, and he let the lid fall.

He shoved the trophy in his pocket.

And turned toward the station.

4

Sakuta’s feet took him to Kanazawa-hakkei Station, but instead of heading through the gates, he turned to the pay phones. He took all the change out of his pocket and stacked it on top of the phone. Receiver in hand, he dropped in the first ten-yen coin and punched in eleven digits he used a lot.

The sound of a phone ringing assured him he’d got it right.

The call connected after the third ring.

“Futaba? You got time?” he asked, speaking first.

“I’ve got class with Himeji, so make it quick.”

Rio did not seem surprised, and her answer wasted no time.

He heard another voice behind her.

“Is that Sakuta-sensei? I don’t mind waiting for him.”

That was Sara’s voice.

If she was with Rio, they must be at the cram school, possibly discussing the direction of her lessons in the free area.

“I don’t wanna disrupt Himeji’s lessons, so I’ll keep it short.”

Reining in his emotions, he gave Rio a rundown of the day’s events.

When he finished, Rio’s first response was a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Well, this just keeps getting weirder,” she said.

“Let’s start with the Santa room.”

“It was very unnerving.”

“Sounds like that’s a Touko Kirishima thing.”

“How so?”

And why was her response phrased like this was secondhand information?

“I’ll let her explain.”

“Her?”

Even as he asked, a different voice cut in.

“Me, Sakuta-sensei!”

“Himeji, you’re still there? You shouldn’t sneak around listening to other people talk.”

“I was listening in plain sight!”

Her penchant for eavesdropping had clearly not gone away with her Adolescence Syndrome.

“Being cute about it doesn’t help.”

“I bet you stop griping once you hear what I have to say.”

Sara sounded supremely confident.

“Then lay it on me.”

“Touko Kirishima’s videos always have something Christmassy in them. Santa, reindeer, trees, you name it. You should really know this, Sensei.”

There was a laugh in her voice, like everyone else knew that.

“……”

Come to think of it, the tin reindeer had been in the video he watched with Miori at the tonkatsu shop. If Sara was right, and the other videos also had Christmas stuff, then…what did that mean?

“I didn’t know that, but thanks for telling me. Can you put Futaba back on the line?”

He kept his tone professional.

“Not until you do a better job praising me.”

“Next time there’s a new donut at the station café, I’ll buy you one.”

Sara’s cheery voice vanished from the line.

“That’s about it for the Santa room,” “Rio-sensei” said. Her voice was much calmer.

“But what does it mean?”

“Exactly what you think, Azusagawa. Nene Iwamizawa picked up on the trend in her videos and started buying up everything that appeared in them. You said she made you help her shop.”

“Yeah, but…what for?”

“So she could become Touko Kirishima.”

Rio made that sound all too obvious.

So obvious he found it hard to follow.

His brain wasn’t keeping up here.

What conclusion was Rio trying to make?

“When you first told me about her, I just assumed no one else could perceive her,” Rio said.

“Given Mai’s case, we had precedent.”

But that wasn’t actually true. Their cases were different. Today the girl herself could no longer remember her original name—which had not happened with Mai.

“It’s not that Nene Iwamizawa is disappearing—it’s that she’s becoming Touko Kirishima.”

“Back up, Futaba. If Nene Iwamizawa was Touko Kirishima, why would she need to eliminate Nene Iwamizawa? They’re both her.”

“I’m saying your potential friend’s theory is right.”

“……”

Only now did he remember Miori’s words.

She’d argued Nene Iwamizawa wasn’t actually Touko Kirishima.

And Rio was saying that same thing. With all the confidence of someone completing a proof. Sakuta attempted to catch up.

“Since she’s not real, she had to go buy all the Santas and reindeer that were in the real Touko Kirishima’s videos?”

“That’s what I think. If she was actually Touko Kirishima, why didn’t she already have that stuff?”

He was still balking at the idea. Just a whole new concept rearing up before him.

“Is that a thing?”

Those words sprang from a feeling he could not put a name to.

“I’m not sure, so I can’t speak for her. It’s possible she’s not even aware of it.”

“I guess, yeah.”

People often didn’t understand themselves. Probably most people didn’t.

“What we know right now is that the world does not yet perceive her as Touko Kirishima.”

“Agreed.”

“And if she’s really that obsessed with becoming Touko Kirishima, Sakurajima might actually be in danger.”

The introduction of Mai’s name into the conversation made his heart skip a beat.

“What does that mean, Futaba?”

What was Rio trying to say?

“The Coming-of-Age Day broadcast stopped the media from pursuing that story, but online, Mai Sakurajima is still the leading candidate for Touko Kirishima’s secret identity.”

“……I’m aware.”

“And if that doesn’t change, the world at large will think she is Touko Kirishima.”

He was finally catching up to her.

“So Mai’s preventing Nene Iwamizawa from becoming Touko Kirishima.”

“At the moment, yes. Azusagawa, you said Sakurajima will have an accident tomorrow, while she’s police chief for a day?”

“Yeah, in Koga’s dream…which was likely a future simulation.”

“I might be overthinking it, but any chance Nene Iwamizawa’s involved?”

“……”

“She’s invisible,” Rio said. “Arguably, she can do whatever she wants.”

“I sure didn’t read any threats from her today.”

But Sakuta couldn’t completely rule them out, either. There was a lot about her he didn’t get, which made it hard to make any declarations. He didn’t know her well enough to trust her, or enough to be suspicious.

“I’m planning on attending the event tomorrow,” Rio said. “I can’t see her, though, so I doubt I’ll be much help.”

“At least we know what’ll happen then—it’s what comes after that’s really worrying.”

Even if they averted this specific threat, the real problem was ongoing.

No one could perceive Nene.

She could commit a crime and not get caught.

No one could see what she’d done.

“Yeah.”

“So we’ve gotta settle this for good. And to do that…”

“I’ve gotta cure her Adolescence Syndrome.”

Back to that.

Their first solution remained the best one.

They were running out of time.

They had until tomorrow afternoon, when Mai arrived at the police event. Less than twenty-four hours remained.

And only one real move to make.

He had to bet on Takumi.

Sakuta’s words would never reach her.

He could try force, but that would only be a temporary measure.

“Futaba…”

“What?”

“Can you buy airplane tickets the day of the flight?”

“I never have, but I think you can.”

He still had a couple of coins left.

He looked up, and it was already getting dark. The wind getting chilly. His hands numb, he dialed another number—not the same one, but his home phone.

The moment it picked up, he said, “Kaede? It’s me.”

“What?”

“Sorry, won’t be back tonight. Look after Nasuno.”

“What? Why? Where are you going?”

“Hokkaido.”

“What? Why?”

The exact same response two times running.

“Well, fine, just buy me something. Wait, no! Mai’s here making dinner! I’ll put her on. Mai, it’s Sakuta!”

Kaede was gone before he could answer.

Two, three seconds later…

“Sakuta?” Mai’s voice on the line.

“Sorry, Mai. Gotta go meet Fukuyama in Hokkaido. Look after Kaede. I’ll be back before the event tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll be staying here tonight.”

“Now I wanna come home.”

“If you do, I won’t be staying.”

“Aww.”

“Take care. Call me when you get there.”

“I will. Oh, and, Mai…”

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

“The hamburg steaks are burning, so here’s Kaede.”

There was laughter in her voice, and a moment later Kaede was back on the line. She grumbled a bit more, urged him to buy something again, and then hung up.

He put the phone down.

But kept his hand on it.

But here his hands froze.

The stack of coins on the green box was gone. He’d used his last ten-yen coin.

His gaze turned toward the vending machines. They might let him make change.

But then a voice called his name.

“Azusagawa?”

Surprised, he swung around—and found Ikumi, frowning at him.

“There’s no classes,” she said. “Why are you here?”

“Running an errand.”

She glanced at the phone behind him.

“You doing the volunteer thing?” he asked.

“Yep. Setsubun, too.”

Likely involving an oni mask and thrown beans. Ikumi took these things seriously. He could see her going all out.

“Akagi, I hate to impose, but can I borrow your phone or some change?”

She raised an eyebrow but held out her phone without asking why.

He called Takumi in Hokkaido.

5

The train to Haneda Airport was empty. There was maybe one group per long bench. It was past eight, so the rush had long since died down.

In that quiet car, Sakuta was using Ikumi’s phone to watch Touko Kirishima videos. One after another, with the volume all the way off.

With the intent of confirming Sara’s theory.

The first video had a Santa doll.

The second a Christmas Tree.

The third a snow globe.

Later videos had sleds pulled by reindeer, stockings stuffed with presents, heaps of ornaments… Like Sara had said, they all had something Christmassy in them. And Sakuta recognized every last piece.

The video he was on now had a toy block lodge with a chimney on top and Santa about to climb down it to deliver presents.

That was no coincidence.

There was a clear intent.

And with that confirmed, he was done watching videos.

“Thanks for the phone,” he said, handing it back. Ikumi was sitting next to him.

“Had enough?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

“You sure you wanna come, Akagi?”

Their train left Keikyu Kamata Station, already bound for the airport itself. Ikumi should have disembarked all the way back at Yokohama Station.

“If it’s related to messages from the other world, I wanna know.”

That’s why she’d offered to come along back at Kanazawa-hakkei Station.

“This isn’t on you, Akagi.”

“Sorry, I was born this way.”

“I know, and it’s not something to apologize for.”

“You prefer ‘Thank you,’ right?” Ikumi looked sheepish.

“Someone I know taught me that the best things to hear are ‘Nice work’ and ‘I love you.’”

“……”

Izumi caught what he meant, and her gaze fell. But then she managed, “Thank you for letting me invite myself along. That better?”

“Much better.”

The next stop was the end of the line—the domestic flights terminal.

The last flight that night to New Chitose Airport took Sakuta and Ikumi into the air at nine thirty.

It rose up through the night clouds.

At last they reached cruising altitude at thirty-three thousand feet, flying at five hundred miles an hour. The air pressure shift made his ears pop. When that eased, the seat belt light went off, but an announcement warned them to keep their belts on when seated.

Just as things settled down again, a cabin attendant started wheeling a cart around, offering drinks. Sakuta lowered his tray and took a hot onion soup. There was a bear’s face staring back from the side of the paper cup. Ikumi saw that and smiled.

“The bear’s not smiling.”

“I like to think it is.”

It was past ten, and the cabin was sleepily still.

The hum of the engines, the occasional turbulence.

Other passengers were watching movies on their phones or sleeping with blankets wrapped around them.

Sakuta kept one eye on the display showing the distance remaining and their flight speed, thinking.

About Touko Kirishima.

No, about Nene Iwamizawa.

A college junior. Majoring in international liberal arts.

From Hokkaido. Born March 30.

Played the piano, sang.

Started modeling back in high school, in Hokkaido.

Moved to Tokyo for college.

Landed a modeling agency, launched her career.

Crowned Miss Campus at a beauty contest in her sophomore year, becoming very recognizable. Her social media accounts picked up steam.

But then that spring, she stopped posting.

He imagined that’s when other people stopped perceiving her. If Rio was correct, she’d tried to stop being Nene Iwamizawa and become Touko Kirishima.

Sakuta had met her last year, at the end of October.

Right after Uzuki dropped out of college.

She’d been dressed as a miniskirt Santa and introduced herself as Touko Kirishima.

“……”

That was about all Sakuta knew.

He didn’t know how she felt about the move to Tokyo.

What she’d dreamed of, how her life on campus had gone.

He could only speculate about why she’d started vanishing.

There was no use thinking about any of that.

He could well ponder it for hours, days, and not reach the right answer. He would only be Sakuta and could never be Nene Iwamizawa.

He knew that—yet could not stop the wheels in his brain turning.

The dim lights in the cabin led him there.

Sakuta’s thoughts were still going in circles when the captain warned them they’d be landing soon.

An hour and a half after takeoff.

Through the window, he could see Hokkaido at night.

“We look forward to serving you again.”

The flight attendants bowed the passengers off the plane, and Sakuta joined the flow, absently walking down the long corridors of the airport. Ikumi tagged along behind.

It was now past eleven, and the relatively empty airport was weirdly stressful.

They kept walking.

At last, they spied the arrivals lobby.

People waited outside the gates, scanning the crowds. Maybe thirty of them.

Mothers welcoming their sons with a smile, men looking relieved to see their girls back home.

Takumi.

He’d seen Sakuta, too, and raised a hand, smiling to welcome his friend. That smile soon gave way to surprise, his eyes shifting to one side—he’d spotted Ikumi.

His jaw was still hanging open when they reached the lobby.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

The same sentiment, that same smile.

“I said I would.”

“Most people would be joking. And…” His gaze turned to Ikumi.

“Sorry to impose,” she said, bobbing her head.

“Oh, that’s totally fine. I just wondered why.”

As they continued talking, they moved to the side of the room, out of the flow of traffic.

“So what’s the plan? You got a place to stay?” Takumi asked, settling down on a bench.

“Hang on, I wanna touch base first.”

With that, Ikumi stepped away. Clearly giving them a chance to talk.

Best he got to the point, then. Sakuta was pressed for time.

He sat down next to Takumi, a comfortable gap between them. This made the head of the trophy pop out of his coat pocket, and both their eyes lit on it.

“What is that?”

“Here.”

Sakuta pulled the trophy out and showed it to Takumi.

A trophy proving that Nene had won the beauty contest.

“Seen this before?”

“……”

Takumi frowned. His expression was tense.

That reaction alone didn’t tell Sakuta much. Was that surprise? Bafflement? It could be read either way.

The only thing he was sure of—Takumi was looking at the trophy. Not taking his eyes off it.

Sakuta let go, and Takumi pulled the trophy to him, cradling it in his arms.

His fingers ran over the engraving.

Over the name Nene Iwamizawa.

Tenderly, again and again.

Takumi’s lips fluttered.

No words emerged.

He should know her name, but he did not say it. Perhaps he couldn’t.

“Azusagawa,” he said, at length.

“Fukuyama, relax. Remember.”

This trophy was clearly triggering something.

But Takumi shook his head.

Again and again, rejecting Sakuta’s words.

“No, Azusagawa,” he said, his voice shaking. Hoarse.

“…Fukuyama?”

“I mean, this is…,” Takumi croaked. “She was overjoyed.”

A burst of emotion.

“I’d never seen Nene happier than when she won this contest!”

At last, her name crossed his lips. Tears were in his eyes.

Big drops fell, landing on the trophy. Pooling in Nene’s name.

“How could I have forgotten that?!”

Takumi was staring at her name, a tender look in his eyes.

“Worth the trip to Hokkaido, then,” Sakuta said, patting Takumi on the back.

New Chitose Airport boasted an inn with hot springs.

It was well past one AM, and everyone was fast asleep.

This place was open all night, and they were killing time here before an early flight to Tokyo.

The indoor and outdoor baths were equally large. It had a restaurant, break rooms, even a hot stone spa.

Sakuta took a nice bath, donned the provided jinbei, and sat down on a recliner in the relaxation room.

He flipped through a volume from the room’s manga shelf.

After a while, Takumi joined him in the next chair over. He was wearing the same gray jinbei.

“Word from Akagi. She booked the first flight back in the morning.”

“What time?”

“Seven thirty. Should reach Haneda a bit after nine.”

Takumi’s eyes were on his phone, reading what Ikumi had sent through a messaging app.

“Where’s she?”

“Resting in the girls’ relaxation room.”

“Thank her for me.”

“Hell no. Do that yourself.”

With that, Takumi tossed the phone to him. Sakuta had to drop the manga to catch it, losing his place. He’d only been skimming it, so no big whoop.

He wrote:

Thanks for getting the tickets, from Azusagawa.

It was soon marked read.

You’re welcome.

How polite.

Very Ikumi. He let out a wheezy laugh.

“Thanks for the phone,” he said, tossing it back.

Takumi let out a surprised yelp but easily caught it.

“Yo, Azusagawa.”

“Mm?”

“Sakurajima know you’re here with Akagi?”

“I called and let her know before we popped in here.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“Somehow Akagi ended up tagging along.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said, ‘Hmm.’”

Takumi gave him a horrified look.

“So she’s super pissed?” he asked, attempting a smile and failing.

“Don’t worry, I’ll blame you for everything.”

“Sounds like I should be worried.”

“It’s the truth, though.”

“Oh, right.”

Takumi gave up and flopped back against his seat.

The conversation died down.

“……”

“……”

Silence reigned.

Sakuta didn’t reach for the manga, and Takumi didn’t look at his phone.

Both just sat there like they were waiting for something.

It was a full minute before Takumi said anything else.

“What?”

“What’s gonna happen to Nene?”

That long silence had been leading up to this.

“Right now, she’s lost track of Nene Iwamizawa. If you and I forget her, she might as well no longer exist.”

Miori had also been able to see her, but he didn’t bother bringing that up.

“What should I do?” Takumi asked, his voice the same as with the first question.

Serious but not desperate.

“The power of your love is the only thing that can save her.”

“A man who forgot her for most of a year? Where do I get off talking about love?”

“If not you, then…there’s no one else who can. Get it together.”

Sakuta kept his eyes forward, saying what had to be said.

Takumi seemed taken aback.

But then he laughed out loud.

“Ah-ha-ha, been a while since anyone clapped back that hard.”

“Get your girlfriend back so she can clap you back.”

“Nene’s super scary when she’s mad.”

But he was speaking with real warmth and affection.

Takumi and Nene. He could feel the time they’d spent together.

“She was pissed when I asked her out, too. ‘Took you long enough!’ she said.”

“And when you failed exams?”

“First time she cried. ‘Why?!’ Second time she was supportive. ‘Don’t push yourself too hard.’”

Takumi laughed, like that was worse.

“And the third time was the charm?”

“She cried again, saying, ‘I’m so glad.’ She’d been in shambles.”

“……”

“Thinking back, I bet she was already going through some stuff.”

“She was legit famous back home. Going off to Tokyo for modeling jobs. No one but Nene did anything like that. They even knew her name at other high schools—people would roll past just to scope her out. May not sound like much to you, but…”

Takumi smiled awkwardly because he was referring to Mai. No one could really compete with her in the “famous” category. She wasn’t a local celebrity, but a national one.

“But coming to Tokyo, it didn’t seem like she got as many jobs as she’d hoped. Not that Nene ever wanted to talk about that.”

“She won the beauty contest.”

“That’s why she was so thrilled. The song she did struck a chord. And so she started filming videos of herself singing. Happy to be recognized for something. People saying she sounded just like Touko Kirishima, like the real deal—Nene was enjoying that.”

“Was that what she’d wanted to do?”

“She told me she was hoping to be an announcer for a Tokyo TV station. Another reason why she was so pumped about the beauty contest victory. I’d known she could sing from karaoke, but…”

“Now she’s claiming to actually be Touko Kirishima. And seems like she genuinely believes that.”

“What went wrong?”

“A lot of things, with her and with you. But you can still fix it.”

“……”

Takumi just stared at him.

Sakuta ignored that.

“Maybe I can,” Takumi muttered.

“You can,” Sakuta said, nodding.

“Azusagawa…,” Takumi said, not looking at him.

“Mm?”

“I do love Nene.”

A confession out of nowhere. Though perhaps it wasn’t so out of the blue for Takumi. Talking about her had likely brought those feelings back up, along with all his memories of her.

“Tell her that tomorrow.”

Sakuta hopped up off the recliner and headed to the door.

“Where you going?”

“Toilet.”

“Make it a good one.”

“You get some sleep, Fukuyama.”

“Like that’s possible?”

Sakuta didn’t dignify that with a response, just sailed out of the room.

As advertised, he hit up the toilet, but instead of heading back to Takumi afterward, he went downstairs. One flight down was the hot springs, and two flights down was the restaurant.

The latter was closed for the night; there was a light on by the free-drinks counter, but the rest was dark.

He poured himself some hot houjicha.

A voice called from behind.

“Azusagawa?”

He turned to find a woman in a yukata sitting on the edge of the raised tatami floor.

Ikumi.

She must have swung by for a drink, too. She had a mug in one hand.

Sakuta took a seat a respectable distance from her.

“Thanks for reserving the flight back.”

“You said that already.”

“Akagi, you’ve been a huge help.”

“That one’s new.”

Ikumi took a sip of tea, not showing much emotion.

“You even did the research and found this place.”

She’d been the one who’d suggested they kill time here. Before their flight at Haneda, she’d also said, “We’ll be arriving late. Better buy a change of clothes here.”

“Still helped.”

“Mm.”

Ikumi sipped her tea again, looking uncomfortable. For all her work helping people, she wasn’t getting any better at taking a compliment.

“……”

“……”

There was no one else here this late, so if they weren’t talking, nothing broke the silence. Except maybe the hum of the AC.

“Akagi…”

“What?”

“What’s your take on Fukuyama’s girlfriend?”

It was an easy question to ask. Simple to put it in words.

But extremely hard to answer. A really thorny problem.

To his surprise, Ikumi didn’t have to think about it. Never even looked lost. She answered like she’d had her remarks prepared.

“I think it’s pretty typical.”

She didn’t look at all rattled. Wasn’t hesitating. Just being rational.

A bit too unflustered.

“You think?” Sakuta asked, voicing that doubt.

Her words had not been enough to convey her intent.

“Has that never happened to you, Azusagawa? You never lost yourself, had to find yourself again?”

That question made him wince. This time she’d gotten through loud and clear.

“I sure have,” she said. “Nothing went right, or I was just going with the flow…and in my case, I wound up in another world entirely.”

“I’ve done that, too. Totally lost myself.”

It felt right. Ikumi’s words allowed him to grasp the enigma that was Nene Iwamizawa at last. They made her situation feel familiar.

“With Fukuyama’s girlfriend, she let that flow turn her into Touko Kirishima.”

And floundering, she’d seized on those words.

“People said she might be the real Touko Kirishima, and that struck a nerve when she was most vulnerable.”

“I’ve got something like that,” Ikumi said. “In kindergarten, a friend’s mom said, ‘You’re such a good girl, Ikumi.’”

“……”

“That made me so happy, I tried to be an even better girl so people would praise me more.”

“That’s very you, Akagi.”

“The upshot—everyone in junior high laughed at me for being too serious.”

“I noticed.”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“Really?”

“Well, I was reminded of it. You cleaned the chalkboard better than anyone else, right? Made those erasers like new. Used a cleaner that inhaled the chalk dust—no one else had ever done that.”

“My one accomplishment.”

She laughed at herself. Not at Sakuta, but at her own past.

“But at the time, I thought that was me. It didn’t feel hard at all.”

“And that all started with a single ‘Good girl.’”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe Nene Iwamizawa had people say she was like Touko Kirishima, and she thought that would help her find herself.”

It was at least a ray of hope.

She’d mistaken that for a path forward.

“That ever happen to you, Azusagawa?”

“Someone told me I was capable of kindness. And I felt like that was worth trying out.”

“Which means you might well be right.”

“Mm?”

“This is pretty typical.”

Singing Touko Kirishima’s songs had gotten Nene the attention she craved. A taste of her goals. What she’d always wanted. The person she wanted to be.

Her ideal self.

It must have felt good.

In Nene’s case, that just happened to be Touko Kirishima. Being someone worthy of attention was more important than being Nene Iwamizawa.

“Once again, Akagi, I’m glad you came.”

He put the empty mug down and flopped over backward onto the tatami. The tall ceilings of the inn stared back at him.

“Best you go upstairs if you’re gonna nap,” she said.

“I know.”

But his eyes were already closed.

2

The next morning, New Chitose Airport had far more snow than the weather forecast had predicted.

Enough that Sakuta woke up, saw the snow, and feared their flight would not take off.

“That’ll be fine. Might be a bit of a delay, though.”

Sakuta and Ikumi had been staring out the window in horror, but Takumi was from Hokkaido—he was used to snow.

It took a while to clear the runways, but Takumi was right—the flight took off after an hour delay.

They left New Chitose Airport at eight thirty.

The flight itself was approximately an hour and a half, and they landed at Haneda Airport just after ten AM.

They boarded an express bound for Yokohama and sat down together.

The ride ended at their usual station—Kanazawa-hakkei.

From the roundabout outside, they hailed a cab and gave the driver Nene’s address.

It had been a ten-minute walk.

So the taxi got them there in less than five.

They looked up at the three-story building where Nene lived.

Sakuta had been here just yesterday.

“You two go on ahead. I’ll pay the driver,” Ikumi said.

Sakuta and Takumi were out the doors the moment the car stopped.

Up the stairs to the second floor.

Room 201.

Sakuta hit the intercom button at full speed.

The bell rang inside.

But they heard nothing else.

No one answered.

Didn’t sound like anyone was home.

“Azusagawa, move.”

One hand in his pocket, Takumi gave Sakuta’s shoulder a shove with the other. Sakuta ceded the ground, and Takumi pulled out a thin metal object. Two keys on one key holder—and one went in the lock on the door.

“You had a spare?”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“Jealous.”

“Is this the time?”

Takumi turned the key and opened the door.

“Nene, it’s me. Can I come in?”

Paying lip service to courtesy, Takumi stepped right on into the room.

The doormat hadn’t changed.

But the place felt empty.

No sounds came from within.

The lights were off.

“Nene? Are you home?” Takumi said, opening the door at the back of the kitchen. “Huh? Ha?!”

He made some very odd noises.

Takumi seemed to be stuck in the doorway, staring at the room beyond in disbelief.

Mind blown by the overwhelming Christmasness inside it.

Sakuta had been just as shocked.

But they didn’t have time for this.

“She’ll likely be wearing a miniskirt Santa outfit, so don’t let that freak you out.”

Best to warn about these things.

“That, I’m looking forward to.”

“My man.”

As they talked, they were looking around. The toy block lodge was on the folding table, completed. She’d finished Sakuta’s work.

“It did not look like this the last time I was here,” Takumi said, moving a tiny tree on her desk. “This is where she kept the trophy,” he added, pulling out the trophy and putting it back in the seat of honor.

As he did, his sleeve brushed the open laptop. This shook the screen and woke it from sleep. There was a whir of the fan, and the screen lit up.

“Uh, Azusagawa…”

Takumi pointed at the laptop.

It was open to the Fujisawa official account—and the post about Mai Sakurajima serving as police chief for the day.

The event would be held in the outdoor space by the mall in Tsujido. Same place Sweet Bullet had once given a concert. Today, at two PM.

“Like Futaba said.”

“We can’t be sure, so we’ve gotta find her.”

“Do we stake out the venue?”

Sakuta had been hoping they could catch her here.

If only the flight hadn’t been delayed, he thought, heading for the door. Then his eyes caught the drying rack in the kitchen. There was a mug on it, and it was still visibly wet.

He glanced at the electric kettle by the stove.

The lid was open.

The water inside still steaming.

“This means…”

Sakuta and Takumi exchanged glances.

“She’s not far off,” Sakuta said.

Takumi nodded. “If she’s headed to Tsujido—the station?”

“She borrowed a car to get to Motomachi. Might be doing that again.”

“There’s a car-share place by the station!” Takumi said. “Nene would totally borrow one!”

They threw their shoes on and ran out the door.

Down the stairs, they found Ikumi giving them a searching look. But Sakuta’s eyes were on the cab they’d taken here—which was caught at a red light.

“Give us another ride!” he yelled, waving both arms.

The light turned green.

The taxi’s blinker went on, and it pulled over.

3

With a quick word to Ikumi, Sakuta hopped back in the cab and told the driver to take them to the parking garage by the station.

The taxi drove them back the way they’d come.

“That the garage you mean?” the driver asked, pointing at a five- or six-story building up ahead.

The car pulled over.

“Akagi, I will pay you back.”

“I know.”

Even as she spoke, Sakuta and Takumi were out the door. They ran into the garage, hit the button for the elevator, and jumped aboard.

They rode that all the way to the roof.

“You went to Motomachi on my birthday?”

“She made me shop for your present.”

“Jealous.”

“Go yourself next time.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Takumi nodded firmly—and a ding signaled their arrival.

As the doors opened, they saw the rooftop lot.

There were four or five cars belonging to the car-share service.

Lights on one of them flashed.

It was the same compact Nene had used the last time.

The engine was on, and it was pulling out.

Nene Iwamizawa was in the driver’s seat, dressed in her miniskirt Santa outfit.

“There!”

But the car was already on its way out.

They’d blown it. They’d arrived a moment too late.

As Sakuta’s spirits sagged—Takumi took off running.

“Nene!” he yelled, chasing the car down the ramp.

He called her name again, closing the distance—and catching up with the car.

“Wait, Nene!”

When the car didn’t stop, he jumped out in front of it.

Arms outstretched.

Not a rational action.

“Fukuyama, don’t!” Sakuta yelled, scared.

Expecting an impact, he looked away.

The car stopped an inch away.

Too close for comfort.

Oblivious to Sakuta’s palpitations, Takumi was still blocking the car’s passage.

“Nene, hear me out!”

Pleading with the driver, remorse in his voice.

Her door opened.

The Santa boots appeared first. Then her legs, her knees. Takumi followed the line up.

Then her red-and-white-clad body appeared. Takumi’s gaze continued to rise. He was clearly seeing all of her.

Nene was studying his face intently.

The door slammed shut.

Sakuta moved past and stood next to Takumi. Nene shot him an irritated look.

But only for a second.

Her eyes were soon back on Takumi.

“I’m surprised anyone else can see me,” she said.

“I’m not just anyone else! It’s me, Takumi!”

“And you would be…?” Nene asked, her face blank.

That made Takumi freeze. His eyes were wide with shock. Sakuta had warned him of this; he’d tried to steel himself. But coming face-to-face with it still shook him. Part of him had hoped she would still remember. He hadn’t managed to let go of that vain wish—but now those hopes were dashed.

“……You really don’t know me,” Takumi said, looking crestfallen.

Nene looked at Sakuta. “You know this guy?” she asked. “What’s he talking about?”

“This is Takumi Fukuyama. Nene Iwamizawa’s boyfriend.”

“Nothing you’re saying makes sense. I don’t know who this is.”

She was looking at Takumi again.

“And like I keep asking, who is Nene Iwamizawa? I’m Touko Kirishima.”

How were they supposed to take her denials?

Sakuta had not dealt with anything like this and couldn’t figure out what to say to either one of them.

Takumi was the first to break the silence.

“……Fine,” he said. It was unclear what part of this was fine. “If you say so, Nene, I believe you.”

His head shot back up, and he looked her right in the eye. Nene might not recognize him, but he wasn’t running from that.

“……”

Takumi’s behavior seemed to rattle her a bit.

“Do you have a minute to chat?” he asked, sounding like his usual self.

“Not really,” she said, but she wasn’t saying no.

“Thanks,” Takumi said, taking that as a yes.

His fingers toyed with the end of his scarf.

“Nene gave me this,” he said. “My first birthday after we started dating.”

“It’s a mess.”

“I’ve been wearing it for five winters straight.”

“That’s a long time.”

They were having a conversation, but with wildly different enthusiasm levels. Takumi was speaking with emotion, and Nene with indifference.

“Nene gave it to me, so it matters. Like a good luck charm—I can’t bring myself to replace it. I wore this to my exams.”

“Did it pay off?”

“I failed the first try. Went ronin for a year, failed the second, too.”

Takumi winced at the memory.

“Nene started saying the scarf was bad luck and I should throw it out. That might’ve been the biggest fight we’ve ever had.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But I guess talking about old times doesn’t mean much to you.”

“We’re talking about your girlfriend, yes?”

“You don’t remember me staying over for a few days while I was sitting exams?”

“Nope.”

“Or how I found the scarf in the garbage when I woke up?”

“Nope.”

“Or how we had another fight when I fished it out?”

“Nope.”

No matter what he said or how he said it, Nene repeated the same words, in the same tone, like a prerecorded message. She didn’t know what he was talking about, didn’t care what he said, and didn’t remember him. Her cheeks, and brows, stayed put. Nene Iwamizawa was nowhere inside her. This was all too obvious. Takumi heard the message loud and clear. But he didn’t give up.

“So you wouldn’t know I wore the scarf to the third set of exams without telling Nene.”

“And the result?”

“I passed.”

“Congrats.”

The least emotional utterance of that word Sakuta had ever heard.

Takumi’s lips curled, and he laughed at himself despite it all.

“Azusagawa told me…”

“What?”

“You bought me a new scarf.”

“News to me.”

“And you came to the airport to give it to me. Sorry I couldn’t see you.”

“……”

“I don’t care if you don’t know me. I forgot you for most of the year, Nene. Serves me right you forget me, too.”

“……”

“But I won’t forget you again. I won’t give up until you remember me. However long it takes.”

“So?” Nene asked, meeting his eye.

“Huh?” Takumi replied, lost.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, checking her phone. Bored. “Sorry, I’m out of time.”

She turned toward the car.

“It’s simple,” Takumi said.

Nene grabbed the door handle.

“I, Takumi Fukuyama, love Nene Iwamizawa.”

Nene’s hand stopped, not pulling the handle.

“I forgot you all year long, so maybe you’ve already dumped me. If you have—then let me ask you out again.”

“……”

She didn’t respond.

She just stood there, grasping the handle.

“If you haven’t dumped me, then…let’s keep this thing going.”

“……”

Only silence answered.

“……”

Then she turned to look at him.

Her lips quivered.

“Why…?”

Her whisper almost inaudible.

“Why…?”

This one a bit louder, but still awfully quiet.

“Because I love you, Nene.”

Takumi put his feelings in words, speaking softly, slowly, but with infinite warmth. It sounded like he was feeling out his own emotions.

“Don’t…you lie to me,” Nene said, her head down. Was her voice shaking?

“I’m not.”

“You don’t mean that…!”

This time her voice definitely shook. Her shoulders, too—and probably her heart.

“How can you love me? I’m a disaster!”

A sudden burst of anger.

Her voice so loud it echoed.

A cry that grabbed your heart and squeezed it tight.

“I was so sure about my move to Tokyo! But I didn’t get any extra jobs! I’ve just got my name on the agency rolls, a model in name alone!”

“……”

This outpouring of emotion took Takumi’s words away.

And Sakuta’s.

It felt like Nene’s gloom was pressing down upon them.

She was a different person.

Same face, but someone he didn’t know was wearing that miniskirt Santa outfit.

“I thought I could do it! I thought I could be someone! But look at me. Look at the mess I made! I failed so hard that the best I could be was a fake Touko Kirishima!”

“…You’re Nene, right?” Takumi said. “Nene!”

She looked up, smiling feebly.

“Go on—laugh at me. I’m nobody!”

“I’d never do that!”

Takumi sounded legit mad himself. Not at Nene, of course. At himself, for not being there for her, at everything that drove her to this.

“……Just leave me alone.”

“I’ll laugh at anyone who laughs at you, Nene. Deal?”

“Sorry, Takumi. Nene Iwamizawa’s got nothing! My only option is to become Touko Kirishima.”

“I’m in love with you, Nene. Stay who you are!”

“But who am I?!”

“……”

That made him hesitate.

“If I knew who I was, none of this would have happened!”

Takumi started to respond emotionally.

But she just glared at him.

“I need to think I have it better than most,” she spat. “I might be a mess, but I still want to be someone!”

“……”

That shut Takumi down.

There was a very weighty silence.

But it did not last long.

Sakuta spoke up.

“See? You do know.”

“……”

Nene’s glare was like daggers.

“You know yourself perfectly well.”

“……”

“That was very Nene Iwamizawa. If you wanna be someone, go out and do it. Announce it or whatever.”

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” she asked with a scowl.

“I’m not done yet, no.”

“……”

Nene frowned. Clearly finding it hard to believe he could be so blunt. Sakuta pretended not to notice.

“You said you’ve got nothing, but that is some conceited bullshit.”

That one rattled even Takumi.

“…What are you driving at?” Nene snapped, not even concealing her irritation.

Being called conceited generally evokes that response.

“Iwamizawa, you’ve got Fukuyama,” Sakuta said, looking her right in the eye. “You’ve got someone you love who loves you back.”

He never broke eye contact.

And neither did she.

“……”

She didn’t reject his words. Didn’t take issue with them. Just listened.

“…Is that all you’ve got to say?”

“Yep!”

He said this so cheerily Nene’s shoulders quivered. She wasn’t stifling her fury—but choking back a chuckle. She failed and a peal of laugher escaped.

“You, of all people? Going on about love?!”

Nene clapped her hands, clutched her stomach, and doubled over with laughter.

Takumi’s smile was rather forced.

When she recovered, Nene sniffed.

“Coming from you, that’s just sheer spite!”

Takumi nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re just rubbing it in, man.”

“But fair enough. Look at things that way, and life would be a lot more fun.”

Nene wasn’t speaking to either of them, really. It was more like she was exploring her own feelings.

“So I guess I’ll put up with Takumi a while longer.”

This was almost a whisper.

But Sakuta heard it.

And so did Takumi.

“Whew!” he said, slumping to the ground.

“Oh, get up,” Nene said, holding out both hands. Takumi took them, and she pulled him upright.

“Things worked out?” Ikumi asked. She was right next to Sakuta.

“Can you see her, Akagi?”

“I can. A smiling miniskirt Santa.”

“Then that settles it.”

Sakuta was surprised by the relief in his voice. The threat to Mai should be gone now. The trip to Hokkaido had paid off. Happy endings.

“Wait,” Nene said, turning toward him, her expression grave. “I don’t think this is over.”

They’d just solved the whole “Nene Iwamizawa calling herself Touko Kirishima” thing.

What else was there?

“I’m not the only one.”

“Huh?”

“There are more Touko Kirishimas.”

The was the last thing he’d expected to hear.

He understood her words.

But not what she meant by them. His mind wasn’t keeping up.

But he didn’t hesitate.

There were other Touko Kirishimas.

Mai was still in danger.

The moment he fully comprehended that, he turned and ran for the elevator.

“Azusagawa!” Takumi yelled.

“Sorry, in a hurry!” he said, not turning back.

“Where you going?”

“To Mai!”

“Then get in!” Nene yelled. “I’ll drive you!”

He stopped.

And turned around. Nene was getting into the car. Takumi was half in the passenger seat.

“Thanks!” he said and grabbed the back door.

He saw Ikumi hovering on the far side and said “Akagi, you come, too” as he climbed in.

She sat down a second later. Their doors closed as one. By the time they had their seat belts on, the car was pulling out.

“Tsujido, right?”

“Yeah.”

The navigator already had the destination plugged in.

The car came to a stop in front of Tsujido Station, one stop away from Fujisawa. The impressive size of the crowd was already obvious.

“Real fame,” Nene said, her bitterness directed inward.

“We here in time?” Takumi muttered.

The clock in the car said 1:55.

“Takumi and I will find parking, so you get out here,” Nene said, pulling into the bus stop.

“Thanks,” Sakuta said. He and Ikumi hopped out.

The shopping mall was on the far side of the street, so they first had to cross.

No nearby crosswalks. Too much traffic to jaywalk. Sakuta was already headed for the stairs to the pedestrian overpass that connected the mall and the station. A handy bridge, both letting foot traffic cross the road and leading them to the second-floor entrance to the mall itself.

A lot of people were pouring out of the station gates. Couples with kids in tow, pairs of high school girls—people from all walks of life. Some of them were definitely talking about Mai Sakurajima.

He pushed forward, slipping through the crowds. Ikumi was on his heels.

The police-chief-for-a-day event was already in progress, and as they approached, they could hear a female announcer’s voice through the speakers.

“Be mindful of the people around you as you watch the event unfold. Please refrain from taking pictures or videos. If you do, officers on patrol will have words for you.”

This was certainly a police-sponsored event. Security was handled by real cops. Few events could be safer.

With that thought, Sakuta and Ikumi cleared the overpass and were out the station’s north exit. The towering mall greeted them.

The side of it was packed, not a gap in the crowd.

Everyone was leaning over the railing, looking down.

All trying to see the stage set up in the open area between the mall and the traffic circle. There was a huge crowd in front of that stage, too. Not just a few hundred, but well over a thousand. If you added in the crowd on the walkway, possibly double that number.

“She really is that popular,” Ikumi whispered, peering through a gap in the crowd.

Her voice reached Sakuta’s ears, but he was past the point of responding.

His eyes were locked on the crowd by the stage, incapable of registering anything else.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Red hats, scattered through the crowd.

Not five or six. Not ten or twenty. Far more than that.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

“Azusagawa? You okay?” Ikumi put a hand on his shoulder, sensing something amiss.

“Can you see them, Akagi?”

“See what?”

“The crowd by the stage is full of Santas.”

“Huh? Where?”

That proved she couldn’t see them.

“There, there, there, and there.”

They were just standing in the crowd. Five or six in the front row alone. Another five or six in the crowd right behind. Ten more behind them.

He pulled his eyes up and found more young Santas scattered along the walkway. Men and women, nearly all within a few years of twenty.

They weren’t doing anything strange.

With interest.

But that alone was unnatural. Bizarre.

“There’s that many?”

He didn’t know the exact number.

“Easily a hundred.”

“……”

Ikumi gulped.

She looked around, unnerved by what she couldn’t see.

“Are they all…?”

The announcer drowned her out.

“And now the moment you’ve all been waiting for! We’re told she’s almost here!”

The speaker was a policewoman standing onstage, directing the event. The crowd’s anticipation rose.

“And here she is!” the MC said, looking at the traffic circle stage right. A black sedan pulled in, followed by a patrol car. They neared the clearing and stopped.

First, a male officer got out and opened the back door of the patrol car.

A uniformed policewoman stepped out—Mai Sakurajima, wearing a sash that read Police Chief for a Day.

The crowd applauded.

Mai beamed at them and followed the officer onto the stage.

“I’m sure she needs no introduction! Our police chief for a day, the one and only—Mai Sakurajima!”

The applause got even louder, welcoming Mai. The Santas were clapping with the crowd. No one was doing anything odd. But Sakuta found that terrifying. Everything about this was fanning the flames of his fears. He had no clue what was about to happen or if he could do anything about it. He was up against one hundred Santas.

His mouth went dry. His throat felt parched.

“Chief Sakurajima, are you ready to speak?”

Mai moved to the center of the stage and stood before the mic. She took a breath and began her speech.

“My name is Mai Sakurajima, and I’m serving as police chief for a day to help promote traffic safety.”

As Mai started speaking, the crowd felt silent, listening. The Santas with them.

“Last year, I got my driver’s license. Studying for that was a great review of practices for safety on the roads and the importance of accident prevention.”

“I’m gonna head downstairs,” Sakuta whispered to Ikumi.

He got on the down escalator. From up here, he couldn’t do much; if he wasn’t close to Mai, he couldn’t keep her safe.

“I hope this event will serve as a reminder that the obvious—yet oft forgotten—traffic rules exist for a reason. It’s an honor to help reinforce that fact.”

The escalator took him behind the stage, onto the ground below the walkway.

By this point, he was already seeing warning signs.

The crowd was pushing forward, trying to get a closer look at Mai. No one could see the Santas, so it looked like there were gaps ahead. “Close in!” “Move up!” The crowd in back surging toward the front.

There were even more Santas near the stage, and things were already approaching the breaking point. Pressed from behind, the front-row Santas were up against the metal barriers around the stage.

But the policemen working security didn’t register the problem.

With a scraping sound, the fencing was pushed toward the stage.

The cops finally noticed and started holding their palms up to stop the crowd. But they weren’t stressing it—why would they? The Santas were invisible, and to their eyes, there was still room. Nothing about this looked dangerous. Only Sakuta could tell how dire the situation was.

The dams were about to burst. He could see no other outcome.

“And that’s all I’m here to say.”

Applause ran out.

The starting gun for disaster.

“Stop! Stop pushing!” someone yelled.

A moment later, there was a crash. The fence between the stage and the crowd had toppled over. The crowd spilled forward, the Santas with them. Thirty or forty people, all at once, the surge unstoppable. Tumbling, stumbling, like an avalanche.

“Mai!” Sakuta yelled, jumping up onstage.

Her eyes met his.

Confused, worried.

A Santa Claus was shoved into the giant speaker on the side of the stage.

The momentum of that caused the speaker to lean toward Mai.

Shouting something, Sakuta put everything he had into a run and then leaped in front of her.

He threw both hands up to catch the toppling speaker.

He couldn’t quite manage it. It struck his head.

“Sakuta!”

There was a thud.

He wasn’t sure what had happened to him.

He opened his eyes and saw the speaker lying next to him.

Beyond it, the crowd’s faces, registering shock. Mouths wide open. The Santas just as surprised.

Sakuta wasn’t thinking straight.

So he didn’t really consider his next action carefully.

He just got up like nothing had happened.

“I’m fine. Everyone, stay calm,” he said, addressing the crowd.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he added, looking at the Santas.

Everyone just stared at Sakuta.

The Santas stared at him, too.

All looking like they were about to shriek.

Feeling was coming back to him.

Something unpleasant and wet was covering half his face.

Curious, he put his hand up, and his fingers came away red.

“Don’t move, Sakuta,” Mai said, concerned.

He turned her way to offer reassurance, and his head spun. He felt dizzy. His vision blurred. As he registered that, he landed on his backside.

Unable to even maintain a seated posture, he went flat on his back on the hard ground.

But he didn’t feel how hard it was, or how cold.

Something soft was there to catch him.

Mai had put her arms around Sakuta before he fell.

Relieved, he let himself slip into unconsciousness.

“Call an ambulance!” Mai said, sounding every inch the police chief.

Sakuta didn’t hear her.

“Why are there so many Santas?!”

“Was this a Christmas event?!”

“Santas everywhere! What for?!”

He didn’t hear confusion spreading through the crowd, either.

5

When he regained consciousness, he felt his body rocking.

He must be in a vehicle.

Then he heard the sirens.

They didn’t seem to be getting closer or farther away.

Sakuta opened his eyes.

A cramped interior.

“He’s awake,” someone said. He knew that voice.

Rio was sitting next to the bed.

“It’s likely a concussion. Doesn’t seem serious, but head injuries are always worth a closer look once we reach the hospital,” explained an EMT who had checked his pupils and taken his pulse.

The man looked to be in his early thirties.

Only then did Sakuta realize he was in an ambulance.

“Why are you here, Futaba?”

This was the first question that came to mind.

“I told you yesterday that I’d be at the event.”

“Oh yeah.”

He finally remembered just why he’d needed an ambulance.

“Mai?”

“She’s fine.”

This came from Ikumi, who was sitting next to Rio.

“A curious pairing.”

“Oh, there’s more,” Rio said, looking ahead at the driver’s seat.

“Sakuta, don’t scare me like this.”

From where he lay, Sakuta couldn’t see, but he knew that voice. His friend from high school, Yuuma Kunimi.

He was now working for the fire department.

“Didn’t think I’d need your services so soon, Kunimi.”

“Don’t let it happen again.”

He was laughing, but he also clearly meant it.

“I’ll try.”

“Please do!”

The ambulance stopped at a light, blinker on. It turned right.

“What happened to the Santas?” he asked, looking at Ikumi, then Rio.

“The police are interviewing them,” Rio said.

“Sakurajima said she’d catch up after the cops fill her in,” Ikumi added.

“Almost there. Prep,” Yuuma said in the deeply reassuring tone of a professional.

And the ambulance reached the hospital.

He was taken straight to an exam room, where the wound on his head was stitched up. Once that was done, they checked his cognitive functions again. Asked if he felt nauseated or dizzy, any numbness in his hands or feet.

“I feel fine.”

“You’re walking straight, but let’s do a CT scan just to be sure.”

“Okay.”

“This way.”

A nurse led him to a whole other section of the hospital. The CT room had a machine in it that looked like it would send him back in time.

The room was filled with a mysterious hum, and he was laid down on a cold bed, following instructions delivered from a doctor in the room next door. The exam finished without his really being sure what was going on.

“Stay in the waiting room until the results are in,” the nurse said, and she sent him on his way.

He went back down the hall alone.

His head turned this way and that, as he tried not to get himself lost—and he found the waiting room successfully. And even more familiar faces within.

“Oh, Azusagawa, you okay?” Takumi asked, jumping up.

“You don’t look okay,” Nene said, eyes on his head. He had a dramatic bandage wrap.

“I’m waiting on the final results, but the doctor who did the CT scan said I’d be fine,” he said.

His gaze settled on Nene’s clothes. She must have changed after they’d split up at Tsujido Station. She was no longer a miniskirt Santa.

That wasn’t really an outfit meant for wandering around town, especially now that everyone could see her.

“Huh? We just got here?”

“It’s a hospital.”

She wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Uh, okay, then. Azusagawa, see you on campus.”

“Yep.”

He waved them out.

They were soon out of sight around the corner.

“I’m going, too. I’ve got a lesson to teach,” Rio said.

“Oh, sorry. Thanks. Kunimi’s…?”

“Already off to the next job.”

With that, Rio left.

Leaving just Sakuta and Ikumi.

“You don’t have to stick around, either,” he said.

“Are you okay alone?”

“I should be. My sister’s here.”

Rio and Kaede had bumped into each other at the corner, and Rio was pointing the way.

Their eyes met down the hall. Kaede gave him a look that was only half-angry, and she walked quickly his way.

“What were you thinking?” she demanded, lips screwed up.

“Sorry about this,” he said, meaning it.

“You should be!”

Kaede was not placated that easily.

“Sounds like everything’s fine, at least,” he said.

“If you’re at a hospital at all, nothing is fine.”

He couldn’t argue with that. Over Kaede’s shoulder, he saw Ikumi break into a laugh.

Ten minutes later, Sakuta was called in to hear the results of the CT scan. Ikumi took that opportunity to go, “You do seem fine,” and make her exit smoothly.

Kaede insisted she wanted to be there with him.

That was it.

Sakuta left feeling slightly underwhelmed, and he found two policemen waiting for them.

He knew why.

They’d come to ask about today’s events.

They talked for about half an hour.

Not wanting to get in the way of other patients or the staff, they found a break room with a couch and a vending machine.

All he really said was that he saw the crowd surging and thought Mai was in trouble, so he jumped out.

Their questions covered his actions today, when he reached the venue, and his relationship with Mai Sakurajima… They tackled several angles.

One of them wrote down everything he said, but Sakuta didn’t think he’d mentioned anything that would impact their investigation.

Sakuta would rather like someone to explain those Santas to him.

As things wrapped up, he actually asked, “So what was the deal with all the Santas?”

The officers exchanged glances.

“We’re looking into that. Thanks for sparing us some time despite your injuries.”

They bowed their heads and left.

Sakuta glanced at the window. It was already dark. The clock said it was almost five thirty. He’d flown back from Hokkaido that morning—what a long day.

“Is it over, Sakuta?” Kaede asked. She’d been waiting nearby.

He hadn’t done anything wrong, but she was clearly uncomfortable with having her brother talk to the cops.

“It is. It was fine. Maybe getting questioned by the cops at all isn’t fine, though.”

“Oh, there he is! Sakuta-sensei!”

This cheery girl’s voice sounded very out of place in a hospital.

He recognized it right away—only a select few called him that.

“Why are you here, Himeji?”

“Paying you a visit, of course!”

“I was just leaving…and how’d you know?”

“Tomoe told me.”

Sara turned, glancing back down the hall.

Tomoe was behind her, looking uncomfortable.

“How’d you know, Koga?”

“I heard from Kaede. Told Himeji. We decided to swing by on break.”

“Makes sense.”

They both had their server uniforms on under their coats.

“Sakuta, you owe Tomoe one,” Kaede said. “I was supposed to be working, and she swapped in for me last minute.”

“I wasn’t doing anything else,” Tomoe said, before Sakuta could respond.

“Shame to steal that from you,” he said.

“Sensei, how you doing?”

“I’m fine. You two might not be—you only have an hour break.”

It was almost time for the dinner rush, and the restaurant would be getting busy. They’d never handle that with two waitresses gone.

“Oh crap! Himeji, we gotta go!”

“Ew, already?”

“We agreed to just get a look-see!”

“That’s what you said.”

“I said that’s all we’d have time for. Don’t believe her, Senpai!” Tomoe snapped.

She took Sara’s arm and pried her away.

Such a reliable mentor.

Sakuta watched them go with a warm smile.

“Oh, wait!” Kaede said, jamming a hand into her coat pocket. She pulled out her phone and checked the screen. “Mai’s on her way here.”

“Then I’d better wait.”

“I’ll head home, though—to Yokohama. Let Mom and Dad know you’re okay.”

“Oof, good idea. Tell ’em there’s nothing to worry about.”

“You call them yourself later!”

“I will.”

“Good.”

Kaede put her phone away and huffed off.

This got another warm smile from him.

Mai reached the hospital about twenty minutes after Kaede left.

She’d changed into normal clothes and found him waiting in the lobby.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, looking at his head.

“Not as much.”

“Your whole face was red. It was rather alarming.”

“You caught me and spared me from hitting my head on the ground, too.”

“I said I’d keep you safe.”

They were already headed for the doors.

“The police uniform made you look badass, Mai,” he said, giving her street clothes a baleful look. He’d have rather she kept the uniform on.

“If you’re joking, you’re fine.”

At the door, they passed the nurse who’d helped with the CT scan. “Take care!” “Thanks for your help.”

And with that, they were outside.

Sakuta wanted to talk about Mai’s police uniform for a while longer, but he let it be for now. They had other things to discuss.

“Learn anything about the Santas?”

“The police aren’t finished questioning everyone, so they’re not talking.”

“Oh.”

“But they asked a few basic questions where I could hear, and everyone said the same thing.”

“What?”

“They thought they were Touko Kirishima.”

“……”

That left him dumbfounded. He forgot to take his next step. Mai’s news was just that stunning.

It was hard to believe.

But after seeing all those Santas there, how could he not?

Sakuta knew exactly what had happened with Nene, so had to accept it.

“They’d all heard rumors that I was Touko Kirishima, which is why they were there. None of them had any intention of doing anything to me, though.”

“And they didn’t talk to each other?”

“Nope.”

Nene had just been one of many.

Was that what this meant?

Nene had said she was just headed to the event. She swore she’d had no plans beyond that.

He didn’t know much more.

Thinking about it here wouldn’t get him anywhere.

But he knew one thing for sure.

The most important thing of all.

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe, Mai.”

That fact alone was cause for celebration.

“That’s my line,” she said.

“Oh, Nodoka said she wanted to talk to you.”

“Do I have to?”

Mai forced her phone into his hand. She’d already dialed Nodoka’s number. He gave up and put it to his ear.

“Sis?” Nodoka said brightly.

“It’s me.”

“Don’t make her worry,” she growled.

“You weren’t worried, Toyohama?”

“I was!”

This was a different voice—Uzuki’s.

“I was so, so worried that I could only eat three onigiri before our concert.”

“That sounds like plenty, Zukki.”

Her mouth sounded full, like she was eating something else on the phone.

“Anyway! Thanks for keeping her safe, Sakuta,” Nodoka said. She hung up immediately.

Sakuta stared down at the phone.

“What is with today?” he muttered, and he handed it back to Mai.

“Meaning?”

“It feels like I met everyone I know.”

Takumi, Nene, and Ikumi, then Rio, Yuuma, Tomoe, and Sara. Kaede had been there, and now he’d talked to Nodoka and Uzuki. And Mai was here with him.

“Getting injured is never good, but if you see all your friends, it’s a good day,” Mai said.

That seemed convincing. Words to live by.

“Maybe it was,” he said.

As they walked, they took each other’s hands.

Some two hundred people were standing before a digital signboard with RESULTS INCOMING on the screen.

Most were young, around twenty. A few were in their thirties and forties, but there were far fewer with each subsequent decade.

Sakuta was staring at the same sign from the back of the crowd.

Waiting for results was always agonizing.

He just wanted confirmation that he’d passed.

His feet felt antsy.

It said incoming, but when, exactly?

Barely had the thought crossed his mind when the message vanished.

Replaced with a bunch of three-digit numbers.

The first was 001, and the last, 246. A few numbers were skipped, but they appeared in numerical order.

Sakuta hunted for 134.

He found 130 and 131. No 132. There was a 133—and a 134 after that.

He took a deep breath.

And let it all back out. A sigh of relief.

If his number was up there, he’d passed.

He’d achieved the goal that had gotten him out of bed early and here to the Futamatagawa Licensing Center.

“Those who passed, complete the processing in order by number.”

The remaining 10 to 20 percent had sadly failed.

Sakuta followed the first crowd—and a surprising voice called out to him.

“Azusagawa, you passed, too?”

He found a familiar face walking next to him. Miori Mitou, a potential friend from college.

“You took your test today, too?”

“I spotted you during the test itself. You were up front.”

“You could have said something earlier.”

“I figure it would be awkward if you ended up failing.”

“And worse if you failed.”

“I passed, though?”

“Congrats.”

“Same to you.”

Two months of driving lessons were now complete.

The paperwork went smoothly enough: photos taken, license printed. The whole process took about an hour, and Sakuta had his driver’s license in hand just past noon.

Receiving this was just part of a well-oiled machine, and it didn’t really feel like an accomplishment. Miori got her license, looking equally unimpressed, and they left the center together.

Side by side, they walked down a gentle slope, headed for the nearest station—Futamatagawa. Sakuta had never been here before. Miori said she hadn’t, either.

The walk took just over ten minutes, and he matched Miori’s pace.

She was making noises.

Staring at her new license, from above, from below, clearly not pleased with it.

“Got a bone to pick?”

She’d been scowling at the ID photo.

“It does make you look pale and sickly,” he said, glancing at it.

It hardly captured her appeal.

“Right?”

“The wrong kind of ennui.”

“How’s yours?”

He took it out of his wallet. Miori leaned in, inspecting it.

“Yikes, your eyes look dead!”

This seemed to please her immensely.

“Mine isn’t nearly that bad!”

She’d used him as a launchpad to cheer herself up.

“Manami’s was pretty bad, too… Does anyone get a good one?”

“Mai’s license is pretty much ‘Why, yes, I’m Mai Sakurajima, charmed.’”

Totally different aura.

She’d gotten her picture taken at the exact same licensing center, too.

But the outcome was so different it was hard to imagine it being from the same camera.

“I guess getting a good photo taken is an acquired skill,” Miori grumbled. “Oh, speaking of Mai…tomorrow’s the big day, right?”

“Mm?”

“Mai’s appearance at that music festival.”

“That’s still technically a secret. Her name’s not on the roster.”

“But thanks to #dreaming, everyone already knows. They’re awaiting her big announcement online.”

“Even though she denied it on Coming-of-Age Day.”

“The rumor mill started grinding again.”

“Well, we know why.”

“The Santa Incident?”

“That wiped out all the wannabe Touko Kirishimas.”

While he had the opportunity, Sakuta asked the cops a few questions of his own. They couldn’t share details of an ongoing investigation, but they did answer some things.

Every Santa Claus present had said they came to the event believing they were Touko Kirishima. Men and women. This much had already leaked to the press, but hearing it direct from the detectives lent it further credence.

One of the officers had personally interviewed several of the Santas. “It didn’t seem like they were all lying, and they said they hadn’t coordinated the event attendance… Honestly, it’s just very creepy.”

But every Santa who’d been there had wound up like Nene—remembering who they really were. Most of them said the trigger for the memory recovery had been a man with blood all over his face telling them to stay calm. This was a departure from Nene’s situation, so he had to assume the shock had just made them snap out of it.

Either way, they knew who they were, and the people around them could perceive them again—which was a good thing.

But it was also true this had less fortunate consequences.

With no one around claiming to be Touko Kirishima, that also removed all other candidates. That meant the rumor mill had turned their sights back to Mai.

The fact that Santas calling themselves Touko Kirishima had all come to see Mai that day also added fuel to the online fires. It was hard to discredit the connection.

“She’s gonna deny it again at the music festival.”

“Okay.”

They hit a red light and stopped.

Cars streamed past.

“Who is Touko Kirishima?” Sakuta wondered aloud.

Once he knew Nene Iwamizawa wasn’t her, he was out of clues.

“What do you think she’s like, Azusagawa?”

“I think she’s good at singing.”

“You are a riot!”

Miori cackled. She hadn’t been looking for a serious answer. Sakuta hadn’t been trying to give one. That was fine. That was how friends—or potential friends—talked about things.

The light turned green.

Still chuckling, Sakuta stepped forward.

The next day was April 1. The day so many young people had dreamed about.