I loaded Kei and our two bikes into a taxi and went back to the inn. It was actually Nishikido, the camera guy, who helped me get him back to his room.
“How’s it look?”
“Mmm… I think I see some swelling.”
There was now a misshapen lump on the back of Kei’s head where it had slammed into an exposed tree root. Touching it made him grimace, so he had to be at least partly conscious. I laid a cold, damp washcloth over his head.
“Gotta say, I didn’t know the kid was dumb enough to trip over his own two feet and pass out on the ground,” the old man remarked.
“Uhhh… Tell me about it…” As someone intimately familiar with Kei’s bouts of stupidity, I couldn’t really comment. I gazed down at him as he lay in bed and whispered affectionately, “Must’ve let his guard down after the broadcast was over. He’s been really stressed lately.”
“He’s still so young, but when I look at him, I start thinkin’… The folks who can are really just folks who refuse to say they can’t.”
I felt the same way. I was starting to like this ornery old cameraman, his neck and shoulders thick and muscular from years of manual labor.
“Looks like they’ve nearly got the fire out. In a way, we were there at the perfect time. Oh, yeah, you’re the one who filmed the inserts? Lemme see.”
“Here you go.” I handed him the phone Kei had given to me.
He stared down at the footage. “Not bad,” he murmured, “but I think it’d feel better overall if it was just a second shorter. And at a lower angle.”
“Ooh, you’re right…” It was rare to find someone who could talk at length about the feel of something rather than just the facts.
“I’ll bet you weren’t expecting him to put you on the line with the SCR, eh? You did a great job. Lotta dumbasses out there woulda sputtered in a panic their first time.”
“It was nerve-wracking. I even broke character and shouted…”
Relaying information back and forth with a stranger in real time felt a lot like being a tightrope walker. I was starting to understand just how much pressure Kei was under at his job every single day.
“Incidentally, did the mic pick that up?”
“Nah, I doubt it.”
“Oh, yeah, I was planning to buy a new tripod. Any recommendations?”
“Depends on if you want somethin’ light or somethin’ sturdy. Personally, I like Libecs over Vintens, since—”
Right as we were about to talk shop, however, Kei let out a little groan and opened his eyes a crack.
“Oh, hey, back with us, Kunieda? Remember who I am and all that?”
“…Nishikido-san…”
“Yep, you got it. Your head hurt? Any nausea?”
“No, I’m okay, thank you,” he answered firmly, though his gaze was unsteady.
“All right then, I’m headed out. Head injuries are no joke, so get yourself to an actual hospital to get it looked at, yeah? ’Til then, get plenty of bed rest.”
I walked Nishikido outside to call a taxi, and when I returned, I found Kei sitting upright in bed, still dazed. I crouched down to meet his eye level. “Want a drink?”
In response, he just stared back at me.
“What?” I asked.
At first I thought maybe he wasn’t fully awake, but his eyes were sharp. Something wasn’t right—I could feel it in my gut. Usually he would never gaze into my eyes in private; he’d always get embarrassed and look away. But right now, he was making so much eye contact, it was actually uncomfortable.
“…Uh, hello…?”
“Sorry, um…” He paused, then asked, “Could you tell me your name?”
The Kei I knew would never make that kind of joke. I froze as my brain refused to process reality.
“Oh, sorry!” Kei (I guess?) quickly grew flustered. “I must still be a little confused, because somehow I’ve completely forgotten it. I do recognize your face, though; I’m confident you’re someone I know. But the details are fuzzy in my mind…”
“Tsuzuki Ushio,” I replied, fighting to keep my voice level.
“Tsuzuki-san…” He rolled my name on his tongue, but his expression stayed cloudy.
“Doesn’t ring a bell?”
“No…”
“Do you remember why you came here?”
“I wanted to travel somewhere for summer vacation, and a junior colleague recommended this place to me… Then I saw a fire break out in the mountains, so I rushed over there to help with a news broadcast. It just so happened that the cameraman was someone I knew, which was a tremendous help.”
It was as if Kei’s mind had erased all traces of me from the story… No, this wasn’t Kei, it was “Kunieda-san,” the news anchor. So where was Kei? Was he simply hiding his real personality because he thought I was a stranger? I decided to bait him.
“What happened to your glasses and face mask?”
“Huh?” He blinked at me, wide-eyed. “My eyesight is fine, so I don’t need glasses. I do wear a face mask sometimes, though, when the air is dry.”
It really didn’t seem like an act. Both Ushio and the real Kei had been erased entirely, leaving only the “Kunieda-san” half, and his subconscious mind had spackled over all the holes in his memory.
Maybe I should punch him again in the same spot…
It was a horrible idea, even for me, and naturally, I didn’t dare follow through. Careful to keep my panic suppressed, I reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “Eh, you’ll remember eventually. For now, you’ve had a long night, so just get some sleep.”
“I will, thank you. Have a good night.” He regarded me with his classic Kunieda-san smile—the kind I hadn’t seen in person since before we started dating.
Out in the hallway, I stopped short. What do I do? I mean, obviously, there wasn’t much I could do, seeing as I wasn’t a doctor. Maybe he’d be back to normal in the morning. Praying that would be the case, I went back to my room.