Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 13 - Chapter 2.1

Chapter 2- Reindeer's Work

1

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?

“Yikes.”

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.”

“Gosh, Azusagawa. You are the one person who can’t sneer about that.”

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.

It was the kind of life everyone aspired to, that everyone wanted to lead. Bright and energetic.

“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.

“With her beautiful tiara and dress snatched away, her rank dropped back to peasant. She likely couldn’t even manage to be the second most famous student.”

“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.”

“Or they think they’ve got a right to.”

“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.

It was logical.

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.