There was still some time left before the end of their afternoon break, and Monika ended up pestering Tobi and Ryuuko into paying a visit to Class 2-1. According to her, the room was home to a very unusual zingai.
Partway there, Tobi realized that Haizaki was tailing them. Monika struck him as suspicious, but Haizaki’s recent behavior wasn’t much better. Around the time Tobi caught sight of the sign above the door to Class 2-1, Haizaki picked up his pace and came straight toward them.
“U-umm, hey!” Haizaki shouted.
“…Mr. Haizaki? Do you need—?” Ryuuko began, only for Monika to step in front of her and seize the initiative.
“Whaddaya want, old man?”
“Nothing with you, actually,” Haizaki replied. “But I do have something important to discuss with Otogiri and Shiratama, so—”
“Then how ’bout you do it right here? Or is it too secret to talk about in the hallway?”
“W-well, that’s…,” Haizaki stammered. An almost tragic look came over his face, and he let out a low, pained groan. Monika’s callout had clearly been right on the money, and he couldn’t bring himself to disagree. Maybe the groan was the best thing he could muster in lieu of a counterargument. “Just tell me if anything happens, okay, you two? I’m counting on you,” he muttered feebly before continuing on his way. It felt like Monika had driven him off.
Ryuuko looked utterly baffled. “Mr. Haizaki was behaving awfully strangely just now, wasn’t he?”
“He’s a strange guy, period. Let’s go,” said Monika.
I guess they really do know each other, thought Tobi. He supposed they had one notable point in common: Both of them had a surprisingly thorough knowledge of zingai.
After that, Tobi, Ryuuko, and Monika peered into Class 2-1 through the rear sliding door. About half of its students were still inside. Monika pointed toward a trio of girls gathered near the front of the room, chatting and laughing. One of them was sitting, while the other two were standing nearby.
“That must be it,” Tobi muttered. There could be no doubt.
The sitting girl had a dark-colored butterfly-like creature fluttering above her shoulder. No, not one—two of them. They looked just like butterflies at a glance, but Tobi knew they were something else. If an insect found its way into a classroom, even if it was as small as a mosquito or a housefly, someone would always notice. An eye-catching creature like a butterfly or a moth would be sure to attract attention. If no one was reacting, then it must be because the other students in Class 2-1 couldn’t see them.
“What? Isn’t that Hiiragi…?” Ryuuko said, eyes wide.
“You know her?” Monika asked.
Ryuuko nodded, her eyes still fixed on the girl with the butterflies. “Yes, I do. Her name is Itoha Hiiragi. We were in the same class last year. We were friends, but we’ve barely spoken since we were split up at the start of the new school year… What’s going on? Why would Hiiragi have…?”
A zingai. Tobi knew that was what Ryuuko had almost said, but she’d cut herself off and swallowed the words back down.
Tobi didn’t know the girl called Hiiragi. He hadn’t been in Ryuuko’s class during their first year of middle school, and he didn’t think he’d been in a class with Hiiragi before that, either. Her hair was long, black, and perfectly straight, and she had a slender build—thin with narrow shoulders. Aside from her looks, the main thing that stood out about her were those two butterflies.
No. Not butterflies, zingai. They must be hers.
“I’m guessing she didn’t have them last year. Did she?” Monika seemed concerned.
“No,” Ryuuko replied without hesitation, “she didn’t. I’m certain of it.”
“A relapse, then.”
“A relapse?” “A relapse?”
Tobi and Baku spoke the same words at the same moment.
“Supposedly, everyone can see them at first,” she said without even cracking a smile. That was enough to shock Tobi, but she wasn’t finished yet. “And everyone has one. Something that only they can see. Over time, though, most people lose the ability to perceive them—and when they do, their something vanishes. That’s the normal progression.”
“…Whaaa—?” Ryuuko clasped Chinu’s pouch. “Is that how it works? So then, it’s just a coincidence that I never lost the ability? And if I had lost it…”
Baku let out a low, skeptical grumble. Tobi wasn’t entirely convinced, either. He knew exactly when he’d started seeing Baku. In his case, the change had occurred at a very specific moment—right after he and his brother were separated, when the one-eyed man had arrived with Baku in hand. From Tobi’s perspective, it wasn’t even about seeing or not seeing zingai at all. He’d lost his brother, and then he’d met Baku. From then on, the two of them were never apart.
That was how he’d always seen it. When he and his brother lived together, Baku wasn’t around. They’d only had each other. He and his brother. No one else.
Am I forgetting something?
That thought flashed through Tobi’s mind, though he wasn’t sure why.
“Once you lose the ability to see them, you can’t get it back,” Monika continued quietly. “But sometimes, a person will relapse without even realizing it. It’s a little like an illness, I guess. The point is, your something turns back up. In other words, it appears all over again.”
“So then…that’s what’s happened to Hiiragi?” asked Ryuuko.
“Assuming she didn’t have one before, it’s the only real possibility. It’s not common, but it happens sometimes, and it’s not necessarily a problem in and of itself.”
“D-does that mean there’s something else weird going on…?”
“The number,” Monika said. She held up her hands, extending both pointer fingers into the air. “They’re supposed to be one-to-one. That’s not a hard-and-fast rule, but it usually holds true. One thing, one creature, one something. Call them whatever you want—point is, everyone only gets one. One master and one servant, you might say.”
“Hold on—I’m not Tobi’s servant! I’m his partner!” Baku insisted. It felt like he was about to unzip, which was a sure sign he was angry. Monika patted him as if trying to soothe him, but it didn’t help. “Hands off !” he barked.