Secret Garden Kurumi It was evening. The red light of the setting sun filled the room. “Ah, ah, ah…” Kurumi Tokisaki shook all over as she gripped the knife with trembling hands, a sound that could have been either an angry cry or a lamentation slipping from her throat. But she wasn’t shivering in fear because she had discovered the murder weapon or because she was facing a powerful enemy with a pitiful weapon. No, Kurumi pointed the knife outward and raised her hands as if she were about to plunge its tip into her own stomach. “—” “…!” The girls around her cried out to stop her. But their shouts didn’t reach her ears. More precisely, she understood they were shouting at her, but she couldn’t comprehend the meaning of their words. She was focused on one single thing now. “Aaah!” She let out an anguished scream, then she tightened her grip on the knife and thrust it into her stomach. “…Ungh… Ngh…” The girl awakened with a groan. Her mind still cottony with sleep, she sat up slowly. “…” Her memory was hazy, no doubt thanks to her drowsiness. She couldn’t remember what happened before she went to bed. Not only that, but she wasn’t even entirely clear on where she was, why she was here, or even who she was. She frowned and placed a hand on her forehead. In doing so, the girl noticed an old ring on her pinkie finger. It was designed to look like a pair of fairy wings. She thought she recognized it…or maybe not. It was quite a bizarre sensation. Feeling like she had forgotten something important, the girl got out of bed and scanned the room, looking for some kind of clue. The interior design was simple. She saw only a bed, a desk, and a small bookshelf. A school uniform hung on the wall, and a schoolbag hung on the chair. The instant she saw this, her mind started to clear. Right. This was her dorm room, and she wore that uniform and carried that bag to school every morning. If she went to school, maybe she’d remember more. Not letting the thread of memory she’d pulled free at last slip from her grasp, the girl quickly changed and picked up her bag. She left the room, walked down the hallway, and went outside. “Hmm…” Squinting at the brilliant morning sun, she glanced around. At the end of a paved road leading away from the dorm entrance, she could see several extravagant structures, including a large school building and a chapel. Saint Adelina Academy for Girls. A missionary boarding school in the city of Tengu in the Greater Tokyo Area. She was a student here. In grade eleven, if she wasn’t mistaken. Class C. She walked down the path at a leisurely pace. Her memory was still hazy, but her body seemed to remember this route. “Huh? Tokisaki?” The girl stopped when a voice called out to her. Looking in the direction of the voice, she saw a girl in the same uniform as herself waving in a friendly manner. “Morning,” the student said as she walked over. “Weird, I don’t usually see you here.” “Tokisaki…” The girl repeated the name she’d heard, dazed. “…? What’s wrong? You look super out of it. What, still half asleep?” The student gave her a dubious look and continued. “You can’t pull these all-nighters so often. I mean, I get that the investigation’s important, but, like.” “Investigation…?” the girl asked with a frown. “Yeah,” the student replied, a curious look on her face. “Weren’t you looking into that suicide attempt from last month?” “…!” Suddenly, a flood of emotion gave way, and the girl gasped. “O-oh… Right. I…” She opened her eyes wide, her breathing ragged. “Kurumi Tokisaki… That’s my name…” “…? Uh…huh,” the student agreed, perplexed. Understandably so. Her classmate had introduced herself out of the blue for no reason. The girl—Kurumi—shook her head slightly and turned back toward the student. “…Excuse me. It seems I am still half asleep. I remember now, thanks, Koharu.” Kurumi uttered the name dragged from the depths of her mind, and the student—Koharu—sighed in relief. “Ah, okay. Well, that’s good then,” Koharu said with a slightly awkward smile and waved a hand. “Mmkay, I gotta go meet my friends.” “All right. See you later.” Kurumi bowed, and Koharu walked off toward the dorm. “…” After watching her go, Kurumi stood up straighter and proceeded toward the school as she sorted the information she’d remembered in her head. Right. I remember. I’m Kurumi Tokisaki. I just started at Saint Adelina Academy for Girls as a transfer student. I’m here to investigate a suspicious suicide attempt. Indeed. Two weeks earlier, a student at this academy had attempted suicide. And while Kurumi wouldn’t go so far as to say this sort of thing happened often, it also wasn’t especially rare. This particular case, however, seemed suspect, and so Kurumi was here undercover to gather information. “It is…questionable,” she muttered to herself. “I was convinced it was no ordinary suicide attempt… No, actually, I even suspected another, separate person was involved… But why exactly?” The crux of the matter remained hazy: She couldn’t remember. She pushed back her hair, frustrated, and quickened her pace. She was sure to happen upon a clue to a new memory in her classroom. She arrived at the west building of the school before long. The school was roughly split into two, with the classrooms for grades ten and eleven in the west building and grade twelve classrooms in the east building, which also housed the art room, the music room, and others. Swept in by the wave of students, Kurumi walked on instinct down the hallway until she eventually reached Grade Eleven, Class C. “Oh! Morning, Tokisaki.” “Good morning,” she replied and sat down at her desk. “…Oh my?” She was hanging her bag on the hook on the side of her desk when she noticed a long, thin box inside of it, wrapped in pink paper and topped with a cute ribbon. “What is this?” She furrowed her brow, and the classmate who had said good morning to her tilted her head. “Tokisaki?” she asked. “Yes, what is it?” Kurumi turned to look at her. “Umm… Isn’t that Hashiguchi’s desk?” “…” Kurumi returned the box to the desk and stood up, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. Muscle memory had led her to the chair, but apparently, this wasn’t her desk. It seemed her memory was still not working correctly. “Just a little prank.” “O-oh yeah?” Her classmate seemed startled. “So you’re a bit of a jokester, Tokisaki? Kind of surprising.” “Yes.” Kurumi nodded. “I was known as the class clown at my old school, incidentally.” “What?” “Where exactly is my desk?” “…” Although her classmate looked momentarily disturbed, she quickly pointed to a desk by the window. Kurumi bowed in thanks and walked over to it. She sat down in the chair there and hung her bag on the side of the desk again. As she did, she noticed a notebook in this desk. “A…notebook,” she murmured before taking it out and opening it. It appeared to be the case investigation file she’d made prior to this bout of amnesia. A mass of information was spelled out in its pages in neat handwriting. Saint Adelina Academy for Girls: Attempted Suicide Victim’s name is Anna Matsutani. She was found in her dorm room with blood pouring from cuts on her wrists. Fortunately, she survived but is currently hospitalized. They are taking no chances. When Anna regained consciousness, she claimed to have no memory of harming herself. She insists she suddenly started bleeding, and she did not attempt suicide. She said she saw someone who looked exactly like her right before the incident occurred. All of this information was tied together with this conclusion: Suspected Artifact involvement. “…!” Kurumi felt a sharp pain in her head. Along with the pain, another memory returned to her. Artifacts. Tools possessing inexplicable powers created in ages past by magicians. It was preposterous. Anyone who saw these notes would figure they were the basis of a fantasy novel or some sort of delusion. And yet the instant Kurumi saw the word Artifact, she was certain of their existence. To be more precise, she remembered that before she lost her memory, she had actually seen Artifacts with her own eyes. Yes. They existed, along with people who used the power they contained, power beyond human knowledge, and hurt people in pursuit of their desires. Kurumi had come to this school to solve an Artifact crime. “…” The moment she remembered this, she scowled. She was missing memories. While she had at last remembered who she was and what she was doing here, much of her memory was still hazy. She couldn’t help but see herself in this note stating that Anna had no memory of cutting herself. “…Have I been attacked with the Artifact…?” She groaned as she placed a hand on her forehead. When she seriously thought about it, this conclusion was supported by a mass of evidence already. No matter how groggy she was, she would never forget her own name. It was only natural to assume some external factor at work. According to Koharu, everyone was talking about the suicide attempt before Kurumi transferred to the school. If the mastermind who caused the incident using the Artifact was also a student, they would certainly be peeved by Kurumi poking her nose around. She lifted her face and looked around the classroom. Class was about to start, and there were a number of students in the room. They were chatting with their friends, getting their books out, and generally spending the time as they pleased. It was an utterly ordinary scene, but it sent a cold shiver up her spine. One of these girls might well have been the culprit who pushed Anna Matsutani to the brink of death and stole Kurumi’s memories. But her distrustful appraisal of the situation was momentarily interrupted by the ringing of the bell, signaling the start of the class period. “Ah! It’s already time!” “See ya later.” The students returned to their desks, and Kurumi closed her notebook as she watched order extinguish the classroom chaos. Even if the culprit was in the room, she figured it would not be to her advantage to give any sign that she was onto them. Somehow, she had to determine the identity of the culprit without giving it away. But it was an impossibly high hurdle. Not only did she not have any plausible leads, but even her own memory was working against her. It might have been a different story if she had some collaborator who understood her situation— “Gooood morning, everyone!” a thoroughly carefree voice rang out, interrupting Kurumi’s train of thought. A woman carrying the attendance sheet entered the classroom. She was young for a teacher, so maybe she was a student teacher doing her practicum. She wore a tight-fitting suit from the neck down, but her hair was curled in dramatic ringlets, a far cry from the subdued nature of her clothing. It was like her neck acted as a border between two countries of fashion. Kurumi expected that there would be a lot of refugees from the strictly ruled Land of Suit to the free Republic of Ringlets. Probably. “…” She felt a bead of sweat trickle down her cheek. She couldn’t help but feel that she knew this woman from somewhere. “Okay!” the woman said cheerfully. “Mrs. Hamai is absent today, so I will be taking attendance as your student teacher! Please do be lively in your responses! Aida!” “H-here.” “Oh? Did you not have breakfast this morning? Let us try that one more time. Aida!” “…Here!” “Greaaat! That was magnificent!” The high-pressure roll call continued, and the students smiled helplessly. But they seemed to like this teacher. A few minutes later, after finishing taking attendance (Kurumi had also been forced to respond loudly), the student teacher snapped the binder shut. “Now, then! That is all for homeroom! Everyone, please prepare for your lessons!” As she was leaving the classroom, she turned toward Kurumi like she had remembered something. “Oh! Tokisaki?” she called. “I want to speak with you for a moment. Please come with me.” “What? O-oh. Understood,” Kurumi replied, overwhelmed by the woman’s intensity, then up from her desk to trail after the student teacher. They walked together down the hallway for a brief while until they reached a spot with no one around. The student teacher whirled around to face Kurumi. “How are things proceeding then, Kurumi?” she whispered, a total one-eighty from in the classroom. Kurumi furrowed her brow in confusion. “Pro…ceeding?” “Yes. Have you identified the owner of the Artifact?” “…How do you—?” Kurumi gasped, and the student teacher got a puzzled look on her face. “What are you talking about?” she asked curiously. “Did you and I not go undercover at this school precisely because there was the possibility of an Artifact crime?” “…!” Kurumi’s eyes flew open wide. “Kurumi…?” The student teacher frowned at this strange reaction. “You seem off. Has something happened?” “…Actually…” After a brief hesitation, Kurumi explained her current situation. “What?!” The student teacher’s eyes grew wide in surprise. “Your memory? Really?!” “Yes.” Kurumi nodded. “I’m embarrassed to say I only remembered my own name a short while ago.” “…It can’t be…” The student teacher looked troubled, sweat beading on her forehead. “An attack with the Artifact?” Kurumi shrugged. “I don’t know the details, but most likely. I can’t come up with any other explanation.” “I see… This is quite the conundrum…” The student teacher scowled as she crossed her arms, then opened her eyes even wider as though she’d had a sudden thought. “Just to be sure… You do still, however, remember my name, yes?” “What?” “What?” They stared at each other blankly. Kurumi averted her eyes awkwardly. “O-oh… I-I’m sure it’s…” “…!” “Stephanie…?” “Matsurika! Sukarabe!” the student teacher—Matsurika—cried shrilly as she waved a hand vigorously in front of her face. “How awful! How dreadful! To think you could forget your own partner’s name!” “I-I’m sorry…” Kurumi quietly bowed her head. “It seems my memory is still hazy.” At first, Matsurika was surprised, but then she crossed her arms with a sniff. “…Well, it is what it is. You’re not to blame. That said, we can’t exactly cease our investigation. The fact that you’ve been attacked is proof the perpetrator is here at the school. We must learn their identity as quickly as possible. Who knows what could happen next otherwise?” “That’s true.” Kurumi nodded, slowly. “But as for the investigation… What precisely should we do?” “I believe you said you had scheduled appointments to talk with students who know the victim,” Matsurika said. “Did you not write that down in your notebook?” “What?” Kurumi’s eyes widened. She flipped through the notebook in her hand. She discovered the names and classes of students, brief introductions, and appointment times next to today’s date. “You’re right. I hadn’t looked at the schedule page yet.” “I’ll leave that in your hands, Kurumi. I will continue to work the teachers for information. Let’s meet after school in the usual place and share what we learn.” “All right. Got it. May I ask one question, though?” “What is it?” Kurumi continued with a wry smile. “Where exactly is the ‘usual place’?” “Ah, so you’re the famed Tokisaki? I heard about you from Koharu. She said you wanted to talk about Anna?” It was lunchtime. A tall girl with short, cropped hair greeted Kurumi when she arrived at grade twelve’s Class E. According to the notebook, this was Jun Ogikawa, the star of the volleyball team. “Yes,” Kurumi said. “Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with me. I apologize for the sudden request.” “It’s fine, totally cool,” Jun said breezily, waving a hand back and forth. “You don’t need to be so formal. I’m worried about Anna, too. If there’s anything I can do, just say so.” Kurumi nodded firmly and spoke as she recalled the information written in her notebook. “So you’re close with Matsutani, then?” “Well, you know.” Jun shrugged. “We’re in the same class and on the same committee, so there’s that.” “What kind of person is she?” “Hmm. She’s a good kid. Pretty. Best grades in the class. Plus, she’s really nice, so she’s popular with the lower grades. She got a ton of chocolates on Valentine’s Day.” Jun pointed at herself with her thumb and winked, jokingly. “Second to me, though!” She did seem like she would have a lot of younger fans. “But, well…,” she added. “She can be difficult, like maybe she’s embarrassed to show affection? She’s kind of proud like that.” “I see.” Kurumi made a mental note. “I do want to confirm—prior to the incident, Matsutani wasn’t unstable mentally, was she?” “Anna? Nah, no way. And she says she didn’t try to kill herself.” “Have you spoken with her?” “Oh yeah.” Jun nodded. “Went to visit her last week. She said she looked down, her wrists were slashed, and there was blood everywhere. No sign of anyone else going into her room, though, so people just chalked it up as a suicide attempt.” “Mm-hmm.” Kurumi stroked her chin. This testimony aligned with the information in her notebook. “It’s almost like stigmata.” “Stigmata?” Jun frowned. “Yes. It’s a phenomenon where wounds appear on the body despite no visible injury occurring. They’re found on the wrists, forehead, and other places on the body where Jesus Christ was injured when he was crucified. Stigmata often appear on the bodies of particularly devout believers.” “Whoa. Scary…” Jun furrowed her brow as her face paled. This was a religious school. That didn’t mean everyone who attended it was deeply pious, though. “Incidentally, I heard Matsutani said she saw someone who looked just like her on the day of the incident,” Kurumi said, as though she’d just remembered, and Jun nodded. “Yeah, uh-huh. I think she said it was when she was heading to the dorm from the west building? Her doppelgänger or something was just glaring at her. Real hateful. Freaked her out. So she ran to her room. But, y’know, maybe she was just seeing things. I don’t know if it’s got anything to do with all this.” “That would be quite frightening.” Sweat beaded on Kurumi’s forehead. She, too, would have been surprised if a person who looked just like her suddenly appeared before her. A thought struck her, and she cocked her head slightly. “From the west building to the dorm? Aren’t the grade twelve classrooms in the east building?” “I guess she had a thing there that day,” Jun said with a shrug. “She stopped by the grade eleven classrooms before heading home to the dorm.” “A thing?” “Yeah. She didn’t tell me what it was, though.” Kurumi exchanged a few more words with Jun before thanking her and leaving the classroom. “…About Matsutani? I’m fine with talking, but can you not tell anyone else about this?” The bespectacled girl frowned, slightly annoyed. After leaving Jun, Kurumi headed to the next classroom. This girl’s name was Kaori Shibaki, Grade Eleven, Class A. Kurumi would have preferred to come here first, given it was closer to her own classroom, but Kaori preferred to talk after lunch, so Kurumi had gone to speak with Jun first. “Yes, of course,” Kurumi said. “I would never reveal my sources.” “Okay, good…” Kaori’s eyes darted back and forth, scanning the area. Almost like she was checking for eavesdroppers. “You appear to be on high alert. Did you not care much for Matsutani?” “No, it’s not that. It’s just, I need more rumors like I need a hole in the head.” “Rumors?” Kurumi tilted her head, and Kaori nodded with dawning understanding. “Oh, riiight. You just transferred, didn’t you?” “Yes. It’s only my second week… If you don’t mind my asking, what rumors are you talking about?” Kaori hesitated for a moment before starting to speak. “…I was talking with Matsutani pretty regularly before all this happened. Not anything in particular, really. Just chatting, giving her some advice. But, like, Matsutani’s basically a celebrity here. And gossip queens will talk whether or not there’s anything to talk about.” “Mm-hmm. What sort of gossip?” “Like, Matsutani’s talking to a junior other than her little sister, so maybe her sisterhood’s canceled.” “Sisterhood is…canceled?” Kurumi titled her head again at the unfamiliar expression. She figured you couldn’t really “cancel” a sibling relationship so easily. “Oh,” Kaori continued, picking up on her confusion. “When I say ‘sister,’ I don’t mean real sisters. Our school has this big-sister program where an older girl pairs with a younger girl and teaches her about life at school and stuff.” “Oh, I see.” Kurumi nodded in understanding. “That is what you’re referring to, then.” “Yeah, well, it’s basically the sœur system.” The sœur system. Was this a famous system? Kurumi had no idea. “Basically, it’s students helping students,” Kaori told her. “But, you know, we’re teenagers. We’re emotional. So a lot of times, the sister relationship’s seen as kind of special.” “I see. So people see the popular Matsutani spending all this time with a junior who is not her sister and assume something about her usual sisterhood.” “Yes, exactly.” Kaori nodded. “And, like, it exploded pretty quick. Everyone was saying all this stuff. All lies, of course. But the thing is, I’m pretty good friends with Matsutani’s little sister, so that kinda complicates everything.” “Meaning?” “When she heard the rumors, she came to ask me about them. Like, ‘what is going on here?’ And that made people talk even more. Like, ‘whoa, catfight?!’” “Oh my, oh dear. Goodness.” Kurumi shrugged and sighed. It might have been a momentous decision from the little sister’s perspective, but for the gossip-loving peanut gallery, going to confront the interloper would have no doubt been a juicy story. “But was that not a good opportunity? You could have explained the misunderstanding, no?” “It didn’t really turn out like that.” Kaori scratched her cheek awkwardly. “What do you mean?” “Hmm, of course I told her it was all a misunderstanding. But Matsutani made me promise not to tell, so I couldn’t tell her why Matsutani was coming to talk to me, y’know? And I guess that just made her more suspicious.” “Mm-hmm…” Kurumi stroked her chin and fell into thought while Kaori threw her limbs out to stretch. “I mean, it’s not Matsutani’s fault. It was just bad timing. Like, who knew she’d get hospitalized for a suicide attempt right before the thing? I don’t know if it was spite, maybe she was copying her big sister or whatnot, but the little sister came along after that with these very obvious bandages around her wrists, totally acting like she’s some tragic heroine. And I get treated like the wicked witch who ripped the sisters apart. I’m sick of it all.” “I’m sorry you’re dealing with this,” Kurumi said and lowered her voice as she continued. “You said, ‘right before the thing’… What thing? Is there some connection with what Matsutani was discussing with you?” “Oh…” Kaori crossed her arms, wrestling with something, before she shook her head. “Sorry. I know it’s maybe too late after all of this has happened, but a promise is a promise. I really can’t say.” “You can’t?” Kurumi narrowed her eyes. While she did want as much information as she could get in order to solve the case, she couldn’t force the issue when Kaori put it like that. “Thank you so much for talking with me. This is all very helpful. May I ask one last thing?” “What is it?” Kaori looked at her curiously. “The name and class of Matsutani’s little sister?” “Oh. I didn’t say? You’re in Grade Eleven, Class C, right? She’s in your class,” Kaori said with a nod. “Her name’s Ikuno Hashiguchi.” Kurumi was alone after school in the campus chapel. It was a large space with a number of pews. The windows had been carefully positioned, taking natural light into consideration, and the late afternoon sun streamed in, highlighting in red the cross that hung at the front of the chapel. During services, the place was packed with students, teachers, and nuns, but after school, it was deserted. The silence seemed to make the space feel even more sacred. “So sorry to keep you waaaitiiing!” The door to the chapel flew open, and the student teacher marched through it, yelling enthusiastically, her magnificent ringlets swaying back and forth. Indeed. This chapel was in fact the “usual place” where Kurumi and Matsurika had promised to rendezvous. “People will hear you,” Kurumi said, as if to press upon the teacher the nature of their meeting. “Please do be quieter, Miss Sukarabe.” “I do beg your pardon!” Matsurika responded, just as loudly, and her voice rang out through the chapel again. She had a surprising inability to tone it down. “Anyhoo…” Kurumi let out an exasperated sigh and cleared her throat. “Shall we discuss what we’ve learned? I managed to gain some very fascinating testimony.” She explained briefly what she’d learned at lunch. Matsurika crossed her arms with a studious air as she hummed thoughtfully. “She saw her own self, did she? Like a doppelgänger.” “Yes,” Kurumi assented. “There’s an urban legend that you will die if you see your own doppelgänger. Although in this case, it was only the attempt, and Anna did not in fact die,” she said jokingly. Matsurika stroked her chin thoughtfully. “Anna Matsutani’s little sister is Ikuno Hashiguchi, then? You two are in the same class, right, Kurumi? What is she like?” “…I have absolutely no recollection.” “Goodness!” Matsurika looked at her in surprise. “You did tell me that your memories from before yesterday were hazy, but did you not see her again today?” “It appears she’s feeling unwell and thus was absent today,” Kurumi replied with a shrug. Indeed. After she got Ikuno’s name at lunch, Kurumi tried to look into her, but her desk remained empty. And her desk happened to be the one that Kurumi had mistakenly occupied that morning. There had been no bag hanging from it, so Kurumi had mistaken it for her own. “…Were you not the one who took attendance today?” Kurumi asked pointedly. “Now that you mention it, you’re right! I did!” Matsurika puffed her chest out proudly before lowering her voice just a little. “At any rate, that is fishy, isn’t it? The fact that her wrists were also bandaged is extremely suspect.” “It is?” Kurumi frowned. “Wasn’t she simply mimicking Matsutani?” “I wonder,” Matsurika said meaningfully. “The causal connection might be the exact opposite, in fact.” Kurumi arched an eyebrow. “Do you mean to say you have some idea about the Artifact used in the crime?” “Yes.” Matsurika nodded firmly. “I would have to assume that it’s the Artifact Changeling.” “Changeling…,” Kurumi repeated softly. In European myth, a changeling was a child whose place had been taken by a fairy. A fairy kidnapped a human child and left in its place a fairy child transformed to look just like the kidnapped. So the fairy child would have the exact appearance of the human child, but its temperament would be wild and rough, or it would be extremely sickly and die soon after the switch. “The Artifact takes the form of an accessory,” Matsurika explained. “The user soaks it in the target’s blood or winds the hair of the target around it, then wears it to take on their exact appearance for a fixed period.” “…!” Kurumi gasped. “Is that the true nature of the doppelgänger Matsutani saw, then?” “Likely so. If the culprit was using this Artifact, that would align with the testimony you gathered.” “Indeed. But what does it have to do with the attempted suicide?” “Changeling’s power isn’t mere mimicry,” Matsurika told her. “After the user transforms, they share the target’s senses as long as they’re transformed.” Kurumi stared at her, stunned. “They share their senses?” “Yes. Put simply, if the user is injured, then that damage is also felt by the target. So if the user, say, cut their own wrists, then the target would find those same cuts on their wrists, too.” “In other words, Ikuno cut her own wrists while transformed with Changeling, and those wounds were shared with Matsutani,” Kurumi said slowly. “The cuts on Ikuno’s wrists weren’t her copying Matsutani but rather the injuries inflicted first. Is that what you’re saying?” Matsurika nodded deeply. “That does explain everything, no?” “…True,” Kurumi agreed, a troubled look on her face. Matsurika’s theory was no more than that—a theory. But the moment Kurumi heard it, she felt something click into place. When she thought about it, the idea still seemed half-baked. She couldn’t sense any obvious malice on the part of the culprit, and their objective was equally unclear. Put simply, she couldn’t paint a picture in her mind of the perpetrator. But when she considered the idea that the whole thing might have been the product of a girl’s jealous, twisted love, it made a bizarre sort of sense. “Okay!” Matsurika clapped her hands together. “Let’s go see this Ikuno right this minute. The academy is a full boarding school. Even if she took a sick day, she should be in her dorm room, yes? I shall go look up her room number.” “Right now?” Kurumi raised surprised eyebrows. “Yes. Strike while the iron is hot!” Matsurika replied. “If the criminal in fact does have the Artifact Changeling, her being suspicious of us and going into hiding is far more frightening than confronting her directly. It might be difficult to collect blood or fluids, but can you say with certainty you have not had a single hair taken from you?” “…You have a point,” Kurumi agreed slowly. Matsurika was right. Changeling was a fearsome Artifact, but certain conditions had to be met before its power could be activated. Even if the confrontation did get a little rough, it would all be over when they wrested Changeling from her. But if Ikuno became hostile toward them and stepped into the shadows, the Artifact could become a lethal weapon. Their best bet was to act as soon as possible. “Understood. Let’s go,” Kurumi said and left the chapel with Matsurika. After looking up Ikuno Hashiguchi’s room number in the office, Kurumi and Matsurika walked together down a path drenched in the light of the evening sun. It was a paved road stretching from the school building toward the dorm, the same one Kurumi had walked on her way to school that morning. There was no sign of any other students, perhaps because it had been a little while since classes ended. Most students had already returned to their rooms, or they were busy elsewhere with practice and after-school clubs. Walking down the quiet path, Kurumi furrowed her brow slightly. She’d had a curious sensation swirling around inside of her since they left the school building. Actually, to be more precise, since they had decided to go to Ikuno’s room. Matsurika was perfectly correct about acting immediately, and even if Ikuno wasn’t the culprit, there would be no harm in talking to her. Kurumi didn’t have any objection to this course of action. Still, something felt off to her, like there was something they were overlooking. This feeling grew steadily stronger with each step she took. “Kurumi? Is something the matter?” Matsurika cocked her head, noticing the detective’s slowing pace. “…No,” Kurumi replied curtly and lengthened her stride. She was indeed feeling mysteriously uncomfortable. But this was, at best, a sensory issue; there was no obvious reason for it. It certainly wasn’t enough to stop her from moving forward, given that Ikuno might very well be the culprit they were there to find. Anything she could learn about her appearance, personality, and behavior would help her decide. When her thoughts reached that point, her eyebrows jumped up. Indeed. She still hadn’t recovered all of her memories. She was still in a state of half-amnesia, neither fully present nor fully gone. Changeling was an Artifact that caused the user to take on the appearance of the target and share their senses. If the culprit was using this Artifact, could they make Kurumi lose her memory somehow? What if they transformed into Kurumi and kept hitting themself in the head until she lost her memories? Was Matsurika’s hypothesis wrong? Or did the culprit have more than one Artifact? Was Kurumi’s memory loss simply a coincidence with no connection to this case? Were they really making the right choice? Should they really be going to Ikuno’s room? The pounding of her heart grew louder with every step she took. The world around her twisted, like a spell of overwhelming dizziness. “All right, Kurumi,” Matsurika said, bringing her back to herself. “This is the room.” “…!” Kurumi gasped and stared at the door Matsurika was pointing at, momentarily baffled. Understandably so. After all, this room was the very one she had woken up in that morning. She was speechless. The option of knocking did not come to mind for some reason. Her hand gripped the doorknob as if spurred on by an irresistible impulse and pulled the door open. On the other side was the simple interior she’d seen that morning. The single bed along the wall, the study desk, the small chair. And on that chair in front of the desk sat a girl leisurely awaiting Kurumi. “Ah!” A cry slipped from her mouth. This was only natural. She had seen this girl before. Silky black hair. Porcelain skin. A gaze infused with a certain intelligence, and lips curled up audaciously. While she was clad in a school uniform, she had an experienced air to her that made the outfit seem a bit childish. The girl spoke to welcome Kurumi, as if she had been expecting their visit. “It has come time to solve this case.” Her clear voice was one Kurumi knew well. “So you are indeed the culprit, Ikuno,” the girl—Kurumi Tokisaki—said to Kurumi, narrowing her eyes. “Ah… Agh… Ngh… Hng…” Kurumi dropped to her knees, clutching her head in intense pain. As if the other Kurumi’s words had been the key, the haziness hanging over her memories abruptly cleared, and her real name was pushed into her mind.
Chapter 9
29 min read