Itoha Hiiragi no longer mattered.
Every once in a while, in the breaks between classes that most students spent noisily chatting, Rukana would leave the nurse’s office and wander down the hallway toward the first-year classrooms. Not often. Just when she felt like it. She was technically enrolled in Class 1-1, but she hadn’t set foot in the classroom even once. As a result, the only people who knew who she was were her former classmates from elementary school. And even if they remembered her, it had been so long since she’d seen any of them, they might not even recognize her. Especially now that they were all in uniform. As far as Rukana was concerned, her school was full of strangers.
Ruka was not, in any capacity, checking in on Itoha. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. From time to time, she’d catch sight of the girl, and now and then, she’d pass her in the hallway. But those were mere coincidences. Itoha had even noticed Rukana on a few occasions. Whenever she did, she’d start trembling and look down at the ground or even spin around and start walking the other way. Rukana was the opposite: She feigned total indifference.
Rukana even found Itoha’s panicking a little funny—though only a little. It seemed that, for the most part, she was enjoying her mediocre, ordinary little life. But that knowledge didn’t hurt Rukana’s feelings at all. The girl with the dumpling hair wasn’t the only one in her class she seemed to be on good terms with. She spoke with plenty of other girls and even some of the boys. She’d become perfectly, utterly ordinary.
Even her clothing—those black and blue outfits meant to resemble the blue admiral—had been replaced with the same uniform as everyone else. If she’d been the Itoha Rukana remembered, she would’ve hated wearing a uniform. It was plain to see that the current Itoha was just another average girl. But even now, the depressing, miserable look on her face hadn’t changed. Thanks to that, her looks were actually a little below average.
Once, when Kirinuma was out of the nurse’s office, somebody knocked on the door. Rukana had been sitting on one of the beds, staring at the laptop balanced atop her knees as Cipher operated it for her. She ignored the knock at first but then came another and, about five seconds later, a third. Five more seconds passed. Another knock.
“…Give it a rest,” Rukana muttered. “It’s unlocked.”
“Umm, excuse me,” a voice rang out from beyond the door. “May I please come in?”
Rukana sighed. “Go ahead!” she shouted, irritation clear in her voice.
The door slid open, and a pair of girls stepped into the nurse’s office. One of them was supporting the other, who looked conspicuously ill. Presumably, the first girl was only there as an escort. And to Rukana’s surprise, it was none other than the girl with the dumpling hair.
“Ah…”
Rukana almost yelped, but managed to hold it in. In the end, it was the girl with the dumpling hair who made a noise of surprise. She stared straight at Rukana. To be fair, Rukana was also staring intently at her. The two girls didn’t meet each other’s gaze, though. The dumpling girl was looking somewhere below Rukana’s face—at her laptop, most likely—while Rukana’s attention had been drawn to the red pouch slung across the other girl’s shoulder. It was small and unobtrusive, but it was rare for students to walk around with accessories like that.
The sick girl glanced around the office. “…Where’s the nurse?” she asked.
“Out,” Rukana replied, closing her laptop. Cipher slowly withdrew to hide behind her. “She’ll probably be back soon, though. If you’re feeling sick, go ahead and take your temperature. The thermometer should be right over there.”
“The thermometer…,” the dumpling girl murmured. She glanced restlessly around the room as she helped the sick girl sit down. “Umm…”
“On the desk.” Rukana pointed at the school nurse’s desk.
The dumpling girl found the thermometer—which had been left in a pencil holder—and handed it to the sick girl.
“Here you are, Yamafuji,” she said. Rukana knew one of their names now, at least. The dumpling girl glanced at Rukana several times, then finally flashed her a smile. “You’re, umm…a first-year student as well, aren’t you?”
“How’d you know?” asked Rukana.
“I heard that one of the students in my class takes her lessons in the nurse’s office, and I presumed that might be you.”
“…Oh? Neat.”
“I believe your name is Rukana Shizukudani?”
“That’s me. I guess that means you’re in Class 1-1, too.”
“Yes! Yamafuji is as well. What a coincidence!”
“Is it? I’m always here, so if you come to the nurse’s office, you’re bound to run into me.”
“Oh! I suppose so,” the dumpling girl said, blinking rapidly. She looked completely sincere. “You’re exactly right, Shizukudani! It was all but certain we’d meet here.”
“…You’re one weird girl,” said Rukana. She hadn’t meant to give such a direct impression—it just slipped out.
“Huh?” The dumpling girl cocked her head in confusion.
“What’s your name?” asked Rukana.
“Shiratama!” the girl replied with an odd degree of enthusiasm. “My name is Ryuuko Shiratama! I’m glad to make your acquaintance and look forward to our continued relationship!” As if that wasn’t already exaggerated enough, she concluded with a formal bow. Rukana was more than a little put off.
“…What is this, a marriage interview?” she muttered.
“N-no, it most certainly is not!” exclaimed Shiratama.
“Duh. God, even your name’s too much. Ryuuko Shiratama, really? And with that dumpling hairstyle? Why not go with Shiratama Dango?”
“I’m, umm, not sure I follow…? I do quite like mitarashi dango, if you’re asking about sweets. No, wait—were you calling me Shiratama Dango?” the girl asked, eyes wide. She blinked several times. “In any case, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”
Just then, with perfect timing, the thermometer began to beep, and Yamafuji removed it from her armpit. “One hundred and one degrees…”
“Ahhh! O-o-oh no!” Shiratama yelped.
She then started frantically wandering around the nurse’s office, searching for anything that might help. She looked like a zoo animal pacing around its cage, and Rukana almost cracked up but held back her laughter at the last second. Laughing would feel like admitting defeat. Rukana wasn’t about to let that walking pair of dumplings make her laugh.