“To…ambush me?” Tobi repeated. He didn’t understand what she was talking about for a moment, but it didn’t take him long to put the pieces together. “Oh… You mean back at the school gate?”
“That’s right,” Shiratama confirmed without even glancing at Tobi. “But then Mr. Haizaki got mad and you ran off, so I had to chase you.”
“…Mr. Haizaki?”
“Our school’s janitor.”
“Oh. So that’s his name. Haizaki…”
“Mr. Haizaki’s a very friendly man. He never fails to greet anyone he passes, and he’s easy to chat with.”
“Huh…”
Frankly, Tobi didn’t care. He wasn’t interested in the janitor’s name or his personality at all. He was, however, very curious about why Shiratama had decided to wait around and ambush him, and why she’d bothered chasing after him when she failed. What could she want to discuss with him? And why was she still staring at Baku? That made Tobi more curious than anything else.
“So, uh…Shiratama…did you, um…need something from me?” Tobi asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t have tried to ambush you and then chased you all the way out here if I didn’t, now, would I?” said Shiratama. At long last, she looked at Tobi instead of Baku and flashed a smile.
Tobi looked down. He’d hung his head reflexively, despite having no reason to. He looked up slightly and stole a glance at Shiratama.
“I wanted to talk to you about that,” she said, lifting a hand to point in his direction. “Your backpack.”
“…Huh? Baku—” Tobi grunted, then cut himself off.
“‘Baku’?” Shiratama repeated, cocking her head. “It is a backpack, isn’t it? Though I suppose you might call it a duffel bag, technically.”
“Uh… I—I mean, I wouldn’t know,” Tobi stammered.
Tobi had chosen Baku’s name purely because it sounded like the “back” in “backpack” to him. That conversation had happened a long time ago, and he didn’t remember the details very clearly, but he vaguely recalled asking Baku “What are you supposed to be?” and receiving “I’m a backpack” in response. It might’ve been “I’m the best backpack you’ve ever seen,” actually. The point was, Tobi had found “backpack” to be a little long and hard to say when he was little, and he’d shortened it to “Baku” as a matter of convenience.
“…Anyway,” said Tobi, “what about Ba—about my…my backpack? My, uhhh, duffel…duffel bag…? What about my bag…?”
“You talk to it all the time, don’t you?”
“I wha—?!” Tobi yelped, very nearly falling right off the bridge. “T-to my bag? Me? Y-you think I talk to it? Wh-why would I do that? It’s not like bags, umm…t-talk back, or anything…”
“Are you good at ventriloquism, Otogiri?” Shiratama asked, slamming him with a question straight out of left field.
“‘Ventriloquism’…?” Tobi repeated. For a moment, he considered just saying yes and attempting to put on a show for her.
Wait. No. That wouldn’t work. I’d have to be stupid. I’ve never tried ventriloquism before, so how do I expect that to help? There’s no way I could pull it off, and no good reason for me to try either.
“…No, I’m not,” Tobi admitted. “I’ve never even done it before.”
“Okay—so in that case, who is making the other voice you’re always speaking with?”
“The other…voice…?”
“Hey, Tobiii…?” Baku whispered into Tobi’s ear. “It’s kiiinda looking like she can hear me…? We’re busted—she knows!”
“Yes, that’s the voice,” Shiratama said with a nod. “And that’s right, I do know.”
Seriously? Tobi thought.
“…Seriously?” he muttered out loud a moment later.
Shiratama stood tall and proud. A smile brighter and lovelier than the most beautiful flower bloomed on her remarkably pretty face.
“Quite seriously,” she said.