"Kumi."
…
"Kumi."
…
"Kumi."
—
Thwack.
An eraser bounced off her forehead.
"Ow—!"
Kumi blinked, snapping back to reality as she clutched her head.
The classroom of Class 1-4 came back into focus.
Voices.
Desks.
Noise.
And right beside her—
Rikka.
Staring.
Unimpressed.
Annoyed.
She tapped the notebook in front of Kumi with a pen.
Kumi followed her gaze.
Her page—
Completely filled with random scribbles.
Lines overlapping.
Words half-written.
Some circled.
Some scratched out.
"…Oh."
Rikka grabbed her own pen and wrote quickly.
"What's wrong with you? You've been in another dimension for THREE HOURS."
Kumi stared at it.
Then grabbed her pen and wrote back.
"I don't even know what's going on with me, so stop asking."
Rikka read it.
Paused.
Then wrote again.
"Should I take you to the hospital?"
A beat.
Then she added:
"For the crazy ones."
—
Kumi slowly turned her head.
Gave her a flat look.
And rolled her eyes.
…
But she didn't deny it.
Because honestly—
She did feel like something was wrong.
—
It started after that day.
After her.
…
The black-haired girl.
Kyoku Hisui.
—
Kumi leaned back slightly in her chair, her eyes drifting again—though not as far this time.
Everything after that felt… strange.
Unsettled.
—
The incident had escalated quickly.
After running into the changing room—
After everything that happened—
Hisui had reported the group of girls.
Directly.
Without hesitation.
Kumi had been called to the principal's office shortly after.
To identify them.
She did.
And the truth came out.
—
One of the girls—
Had a boyfriend.
And that boyfriend—
Had been paired with Kumi during the Marriage Booth.
…
But instead of admitting it was random—
He lied.
Said Kumi was the one who nominated him.
Twisted the story.
Made himself look wanted.
Important.
—
And the girl—
Believed him.
Without question.
…
Kumi frowned slightly at the memory.
Stupid.
All of it.
—
But then—
Hisui stepped in.
Calm.
Direct.
She confronted the guy.
Cornered him.
And made him confess.
Just like that.
No hesitation.
No fear.
—
The issue was resolved.
Clean.
Quick.
—
Kumi's fingers tightened slightly around her pen.
"…Why?"
She muttered under her breath.
—
They weren't friends.
They barely knew each other.
And yet—
Hisui got involved.
For her.
—
When Kumi tried to thank her—
She remembered it clearly.
—
"I only do these things because it's the right thing."
A pause.
Then—
"And to keep you from barging in on people changing clothes."
—
Kumi's face flushed instantly at the memory.
"Ugh…"
She slumped forward onto her desk.
That part—
Was completely unnecessary.
—
But still—
…
Her hand drifted to her wrist.
The same place Hisui had held her.
Warm.
Even now, it felt like something lingered there.
…
Why would she do all that…?
Her brows furrowed.
Her thoughts tangled again.
And without realizing it—
Her mind drifted back.
To the locker.
To the closeness.
To that scent.
To those eyes—
—
Thwack.
Another eraser hit her.
"HEY."
Kumi shot up.
"I'm back!" she snapped.
Rikka leaned back in her chair, squinting at her.
"Barely."
A pause.
Then—
"…So who is it?"
—
Kumi froze.
"…What?"
Rikka smirked slightly.
"You don't space out like that for no reason."
She tapped her pen against the desk.
"Spill."
—
Kumi's face heated up again.
"There's no one!"
"Mm."
Rikka didn't look convinced.
At all.
...
Hisui's pen came to a stop.
The last formula on the board had already been copied—clean, precise, aligned with the rest of her notes.
Perfect.
She set the pen down.
And looked out the window.
…
The sky was clear.
Calm.
Unchanging.
Unlike—
Her thoughts.
…
Komukura Kumi.
The name surfaced again.
Uninvited.
Persistent.
Hisui's fingers tapped lightly against her notebook.
She had reviewed it several times already.
Faces.
Names.
Class distributions.
Transfer records.
Nothing unusual.
And yet—
Everything about that girl was wrong.
…
"I've never met her before."
She said it quietly under her breath.
A statement.
A fact.
Something she trusted.
Because her memory—
Didn't fail.
Not like that.
…
Which meant—
Kumi was not part of her past.
Not in the life she remembered.
Not in any version she had lived.
…
Hisui exhaled softly.
Then began organizing her thoughts.
Possibility one:
A result of her changes.
Butterfly effect.
Small decisions leading to unexpected outcomes.
A new variable.
Inserted into her timeline.
…
Possible.
But—
Unsatisfying.
Because that didn't explain—
That feeling.
…
Her hand stilled.
Just for a moment.
That pull.
Subtle.
Constant.
Whenever Kumi was near.
Like something aligning.
Or—
Drawing her in.
…
Hisui frowned slightly.
Annoyed.
Not at Kumi—
But at herself.
Emotions she couldn't categorize.
Reactions she couldn't predict.
That—
Was inefficient.
…
And yet—
She couldn't ignore it.
Wouldn't ignore it.
Because it didn't fit.
And anything that didn't fit—
Had to be understood.
…
"…Then I'll investigate."
Simple.
Direct.
A decision made.
…
Her fingers moved again, flipping to a clean page in her notebook.
She wrote neatly:
[New Task]
Subject: Komukura Kumi
Objective: Determine origin and anomaly factors
A pause.
Then she added:
Method: Controlled interaction. Observation. Response analysis.
…
Hisui leaned back slightly.
Thinking.
Planning.
Calculating.
If she approached directly—
It might trigger avoidance.
Kumi had already shown signs of retreat.
So—
Indirect contact first.
Situational encounters.
Shared spaces.
Limited pressure.
…
Efficient.
…
Her pen hovered for a second longer.
Then—
Almost unconsciously—
She added one more line.
Smaller.
Less structured.
Note: Emotional response irregular when in proximity.
—
Hisui stared at it.
Then closed the notebook.
…
"…Troublesome."
She murmured.
But she didn't cross it out.