Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 13 - Chapter 6

Last Chapter- The Day Before

Friday, March 31.

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.”

That divided the crowd in two. Maybe 80 to 90 percent were making “Of course I passed” faces and started moving. They’d likely been nervous as hell a moment ago.

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?”

“This is the worst picture anyone has ever taken of me.”

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.”

Incident or accident, call it what you will—Sakuta did wind up hearing more about it from the police later on. They didn’t share much more than he’d heard that day; every Santa had said the same thing.

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.

All he knew was that she was an internet singer, active on video-sharing sites.

“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.