Chapter 2: Knockin' Out Locked Doors

Let's talk about how she used to be.

To describe the Sakuya Fumiduki from two years ago, I could line up all the most graceful words I can think of.

Well-behaved, pure and lovely, a model student blessed with both intelligence and beauty. Kind-hearted and popular, and on top of that, the daughter of a good family. Perfect to the point it seems unreal.

In short, an unattainable flower on a high peak. So even though we were classmates, the only time I really talked to her was back then.

A little over two years ago, during the cultural festival. When I showed concern for Sakuya, who had taken on too much work as a committee member. She smiled gently and said,

"Don't worry about me. I'm doing it because I enjoy it."

"If it makes everyone happy, then it's worth it."

Without any pretense, the words that flowed from her lips were filled with compassion and devotion.

She was such an angelic girl—

—And now.

"Heh heh. If it makes you pull a face like that, getting good grades was worth it!"

Lunchtime. In the school corridor, I leaned against the wall in shock.

Last night—or rather, early this morning—we made a bet. She said we'd compete with our test results.

The outcome: Sakuya ranked in the top dozen of the grade—a performance befitting her past as an honor student, placing third in the class. As for me, ranking was out of the question. My returned test was a spectacular collection of failing marks, guaranteeing a retest.

"Ho ho ho," Sakuya laughed triumphantly, her villainous cackle piercing my heart.

"Even the great Hero from another world is no match for high school math. How pathetic!"

—Demon... no, witch! That this is the same 'Fumiduki' from two years ago—unbelievable...!

We're talking in a blind spot in the corridor where few people pass by. Blending into the lunchtime bustle, our conversation can't be overheard. Well, even if someone did hear, she could use her magic to cover it up.

During the day, Sakuya's impression changes completely from at night. Her hair tied symmetrically with ribbons, a knee-length skirt, wearing the uniform impeccably. Her striking heterochromatic eyes are hidden with colored contacts, both a cool hazel.

She looks flawlessly demure, and she giggles softly.

"Surprising. Even though you study late every night."

"Got a problem with that? I've forgotten everything."

After all, I was gripping a sword, not a pen, for two years. Besides.

"How do you even know that?"

What I do every night, that is. Even the witch doesn't come over every day. Maybe three times a week.

Sakuya answers as if it's obvious.

"Well, since we're across from each other, I can see through the window."

I rub my temples.

"...Are you a stalker?"

"It's just enemy reconnaissance!"

She snaps back defensively. Good thing I don't walk around naked. If she'd seen me in the buff, I'd be calling the police, even if we are old comrades from another world.

Sakuya, looking dissatisfied, glances again at her report card.

"Sigh. With you like this, winning isn't satisfying at all. Doesn't make me want to make you kneel. ...I'll have to think of a better way to compete next time."

She turns her back on me with a cold attitude. When I ask, "Where are you going?" she replies casually.

"Lunch, of course. I've been invited by my classmates."

At those offhand words, I'm stunned.

What...?

You mean—you have friends?

Sakuya blinks as if caught off guard.

"What? Don't tell me... you don't have any?"

Since returning to this world and re-enrolling in school, it's been a month already—and I have zero semblance of a social circle.

I know the reason. Mainly the aftereffects of returning from the other world.

—During the two years we were 'summoned' to the other world, we were considered 'missing' here. The commotion upon our return (involving the police and hospitals) was settled thanks to the witch's magic. It didn't make the news, and due to magic that obstructs recognition, people—except those who were close to us—hardly remember that we had disappeared.

However, our two-year absence from school—the fact that we 'repeated a year'—remained. So here I am, at eighteen, still in my second year of high school, sticking out like a sore thumb in class. Really sticking out.

"I see... you don't have any."

For a moment, she cast her eyes down sorrowfully.

Then, she smirked.

"Want to compete on the number of friends next?"

Damn it!

...Technically, Sakuya should be under the same conditions, with the repeating a year and all.

"Hey, you're not using magic on your classmates, are you?"

Like brainwashing them with magic...

She widened her eyes. Putting a slender hand to her thin lips, she chuckled.

"Who knows?"

Her smile cast a shadow over her eyes, turning dark.

...Is she seriously doing it!?

Before I could press further, a voice called out from down the corridor, "Sakuya-chan," waving at her. A female student.

"...Who?"

"Don't you even remember your classmates' faces? It's already May."

Sakuya frowned skeptically. So that's her friend? She actually exists? Guess we can rule out the imaginary friend theory...

In a low voice, wary of prying eyes, Sakuya rebuked me.

"By the way, last night you said something rude about me being otherworld-addled."

Some people consider 3 a.m. to still be night.

"Did you think I was an outcast at school?"

"It's not like I was making fun of you. I just thought maybe you and I were in the same boat..."

"The same, huh."

Her eyes narrowed sharply.

"—If only we were the same."

She murmured softly. So quietly that ordinary ears might have missed it.

"...What do you mean?"

She didn't answer my question. Instead, she looked down.

A moment passed.

She looked up, suddenly. Her expression changing in an instant, like a film reel flipping over.

"It's nothing, Hinami-kun."

She called me as she used to, with that gentle voice and smile, and I froze.

The malicious smirk and piercing gaze from earlier were nowhere to be seen. She was worlds apart from the noisy witch who barged through my window in the middle of the night.

That serene smile, like a flower quietly in bloom.

—It was the smile of the Sakuya Fumiduki from two years ago.

My memory tells me.

Her head tilted slightly as she smiled softly.

"I guess you were worried about me. Thank you."

Exuding familiarity, yet an inexplicable charm that was hard to approach.

"But there's no need to worry. I can handle myself when it counts, you know?"

She smoothly delivered utterly unremarkable lines.

Her expression, tone, gestures—everything was just as it was two years ago.

My vision blurred. Overlapping the witch before me, I hallucinated the image of her from two years ago, her hairstyle slightly different.

There were no red particles flying around, so she wasn't using magic. And yet.

She was perfectly—the same Sakuya Fumiduki as back then.

"Well then, I'll be going ahead... Let's both do our best, okay?"

With that, she turned her back to me.

She slipped past me with light steps, heading toward her classmates. Moving ahead.

"Hey, wait. Fumiduki!"

I found myself calling out to her retreating figure with her old name, not knowing what I wanted to say.

She turned around down the corridor.

"(Idiot.)"

She mouthed the words silently, sticking out her tongue just a bit, mocking me as usual.

Then she left with her classmates, wearing a face that said she came standard with decency and common sense.

And finally, the illusion of 'Fumiduki' dissipated.

Left alone at the end of the corridor, I stood there dumbfounded.

"...She can put on a proper face if she tries."

Seriously? Why is she only like that in front of me?

Apparently, Sakuya maintains the image of the well-behaved 'Fumiduki' at school, just like two years ago. Even though her true nature is that of a witch. Talk about wearing a mask. I feel tricked.

I head off in the opposite direction from her. I haven't had lunch yet either.

I decide to change my mood. I climb the stairs leading to the rooftop.

I like rooftops. The school building sits atop a hill with nothing else around, so the sky feels vast. If I'm going to eat, I'd prefer a place with a nice view.

But. At the top of the stairs, the door to the rooftop is locked.

Shoot, I forgot I didn't have the key. If the witch were here, she could've opened it with her [Magic Eye]... Unfortunately, we're not even friends, so I'm not about to ask for her help.

...Should I go out the window and climb the wall? No, unlike her, I'm not otherworld-addled enough to sneak onto the rooftop by scaling walls.

I turn back. Only my footsteps echo in the dim staircase. At least I haven't developed a habit of walking silently.

Still... I'm leading a pretty bleak school life.

My test scores are terrible, I have no friends, I'm not in any clubs, and after school, all I do is hustle to find part-time jobs.

Did I really come back from the other world just for this... Is this really okay?

No, I recall my purpose here. Bleak as it may be, this is the peaceful life I wanted.

Thinking that, I descend about one and a half floors of stairs when I notice.

On the landing between floors, there's a female student who wasn't there when I went up.

A short girl with orange hair. She's wearing thick glasses, her hair gathered into round, orange-like buns on both sides.

She's sitting on the stair railing, her small waist perched there, and takes a big bite of a huge burger you can only get from a shop far off in the bustling downtown. It's still faintly steaming.

—She's... getting takeout delivered to school...!!

Even if this school has a liberal atmosphere, isn't this a bit too free?

Our eyes meet with a snap. The girl—let's call her 'Orange'—exclaims "Ah!" and smiles broadly with her small mouth smeared with ketchup.

"Nice to meet you, Asuka-san. I've been waiting to encounter you like this."

Her childish voice belies her polite speech. Eye-catching hair color, a uniform worn any way she pleases. Under an oversized cardigan, a skirt that's too short reveals legs as thin as sticks.

My first impression of this girl—real name pending but for now 'Orange'—was that she was flashy and 'freedom incarnate.'

As she munches on her burger, I ask her,

"How do you know my name?"

She washes down her food with a bright green melon soda in her other hand.

"Of course I know. You're famous, Asuka-san. In a bad way."

I tilt my head. The story of our disappearance shouldn't be widespread thanks to magic...

"You're the talk of the town. Do you remember what you said during the self-introductions at the start of the term? It was something like—"

Oh. It dawns on me. No way...

"'There's no self to introduce.' Right? LOL."

Ugh...! That was something I blurted out when it was my turn and I realized I had nothing to say. I remember the frozen atmosphere in the classroom afterward, and the cold stare piercing me from Sakuya in the seat behind me. I had a dreadful certainty that I'd messed up.

"That's not just chuunibyou; it's being so aloof it's high school sophomore syndrome." Orange taunts cheerfully without a shred of malice.

But hey, if you ban me from talking about my time in the other world, I really have nothing else to say!

As I writhe in fresh embarrassment over my new black history, the girl finally introduces herself.

"By the way, I'm Meme Nenezaka."

So Orange's real name is Meme Nenezaka, and it seems she refers to herself by name.

"My class is next door, I'm in the Occult Research Club, and as for introducing myself: 'A contrarian subculture girl who's gone full circle avoiding Village Vanguard but still frequents Animate, yet doesn't want to be called an otaku.' Nice to meet you~"

[Note: Village Vanguard and Animate are Japanese stores related to subculture and anime/manga goods.]

...Well, at least I figured out she's a weirdo.

"Nenezaka—"

"Just call me 'Meme.' We're peers now."

...No, you don't just start using someone's first name out of the blue. We're not friends or anything. Sakuya is an exception.

"Did you need something from me?"

"Yes! I heard that a senior who'd been missing for two years has returned, so I was curious."

Wait a minute. How does Meme Nenezaka know about my disappearance? There should be magic preventing people from recognizing that...

"So—"

My doubts were blown away by her next words.

"I came to be your friend, Asuka-san!"

...What?

"As a token of our new friendship, let's shake hands."

Setting her melon soda aside, Meme smiled brightly and extended her small right hand.

I kept my hands shoved in my pockets.

"...No one shakes hands these days."

I gently declined. Meme's round eyes widened.

"What!? You don't want to be friends with such a kitschy and cute girl like me!?"

"Thinking you're cute yourself is a bit..."

Meme suddenly returned to a straight face.

"You're right. It's not like I think I'm cute or anything."

"You called yourself cute even though you don't think so?"

"Well, statistically, I'm apparently cute. We did a survey when making the yearbook."

I took a good, hard look at Meme's face.

Despite the thick glasses, her bright green eyes stood out. I thought she dyed her hair, but even her eyelashes were a translucent orange. If I focused, I could see faint freckles scattered across her fair skin. I have good eyesight. She probably has some foreign blood.

Now that she mentioned it, with those features, eight out of ten people would probably say she's cute.

"That doesn't mean I choose friends based on cuteness."

"But there's no reason to refuse, right? You can never have too many friends."

She had a point. Under normal circumstances, maybe so. However.

"I don't have any friends right now."

In other words, if I became friends with her here, Meme would be my first friend since returning from the other world.

"I don't want my first friend to be someone shady."

I wanted to cherish my first. That's how I felt.

"I see. That sounds exactly like someone who doesn't have friends."

"Besides, I'm a serious guy, so someone who breaks school rules is a bit..."

Even in a school with a liberal atmosphere, getting food delivered is against the rules.

"You're so uptight~. Making friends should be as easy as following someone on social media—boom, friends."

"By that logic, I could be friends with the Prime Minister's office."

"Making friends is like throwing a Poké Ball at someone you bump into and catching them."

"Are you calling me a monster?"

What a rude girl.

Lunchtime isn't long enough for idle chatter. I sat down on the stairs to eat, pulling out a block of rationed food. Meme hopped down from the railing and plopped down next to me.

"Oh, I thought you came back to school to make friends. Missed my chance to be your first."

"You're like a child."

"Is there anything else to do at school? Nowadays, you can study without attending. Remember that song we used to sing? 'I wonder if I can make a hundred friends~.' I'm at school to complete that youth quest. Yay!"

She flashed double peace signs—the logic of a party girl. Can subculture and being a party girl coexist? Well, I guess they can.

I glanced at the paper bag on Meme's lap.

"But you're eating alone too."

"Sometimes it's nice to turn down friends' invitations and enjoy some solitude with gourmet food."

I see. Not that I have any invitations to turn down in the first place.

"I never thought about it."

Friends, at this point?

"I figured it's normal to stand out if you repeat a grade."

"Really?"

Meme tilted her head and continued with something I didn't know. "At our school, lots of people repeat grades. The tests have gotten super hard over the past two years. I think it's the student council's doing~."

What the heck. Can school exam difficulty change that much in two years?

...Wait, with that information, am I going to repeat another year? I shuddered.

"Well, in short, you don't have friends because you messed up your self-introduction. Don't blame it on repeating a year."

I had no comeback.

Meme finished her huge burger and wiped the ketchup from her mouth. She took a fry from the paper bag.

"So, what did you really come back for?"

—Why did I come back here?

"That's..."

As I hesitated to answer, Meme shoved a fry into my mouth. Mmph.

It tasted stale and lukewarm.

Peering at me with a mischievous grin, Meme's sparkling eyes had a faint green hue.

"It's the taste of 'youth.'"

She downed her melon soda—the same glowing color as her eyes under the streaming sunlight—with a satisfied gulp. Standing up energetically, the petite girl looked down at me.

"Life's easier when you have fun, Asuka-san."

Meme bounced down the stairs and left.

Wait, that phrase means pretty much the same thing.

What was that all about...?

It didn't sit right with me to have my life lectured by a younger girl I'd just met. Even accounting for the age difference, I have some confidence in my life experience—in terms of uniqueness, at least.

Watching Meme Nenezaka disappear like a storm, I bit into my energy bar. Eating just for calories was unsatisfying. I stuffed it down and stood up.

From the corridor window, I could see the courtyard below. In the courtyard was a large lotus pond, and on a bench by its edge, Sakuya Fumiduki was chatting and eating with classmates.

For a moment, I thought I caught her gaze as she looked up.

"Shall we compete on the number of friends next?"

I recalled Sakuya's taunt.

—How stupid. That's just ridiculous.

Even if I thought about it, who needs a hundred friends?

But I swallowed my pride—I have a policy of accepting challenges thrown at me.

After finishing lunch, I headed back to the classroom quickly.

There's still time left in the lunch break, but my grades are in critical condition. Since Meme hinted at the possibility of repeating another year, I needed to spend the remaining time studying.

Also, losing to Sakuya pissed me off. How can someone who laughs like an idiot have such good grades? I'm frustrated with my own incompetence for losing to her.

When I returned to the classroom, I found unfamiliar books piled high on my desk.

Huh?

I noticed curious glances from my classmates directed at the mountain on my desk. The stack resembled a small mountain—reference books for every subject. ...What's with this punishment? Even a college applicant would faint.

Atop the pile was a folded note with neat, meticulous handwriting.

"From your benevolent self."

No need to ask who it's from. I could almost hear her laugh as she continues to kick me when I'm down. Just you wait...

Groaning, I picked up one of the reference books from the pile. As I felt the texture of the cover,

(...Huh?)

Something felt... off.

2

Our pointless competition came to an end that evening.

After school, in the bustling downtown with the sun starting to set. Having finished a part-time job interview and on my way home, I spotted her acting strangely.

She wasn't in her uniform but in casual clothes. Over what seemed like a well-made dress, she wore an overly casual bomber jacket and a hat pulled low over her eyes—not her usual style. Was she in disguise?

Without noticing me, Sakuya slipped into a dim alleyway.

...What's she up to? I wondered.

I recalled her cheat abilities. Even in this world, we can use a bit of our powers. In the witch's case, she can unlock doors, erase memories, mess with people's brains—in short, abilities that are bad for public safety.

Surely, she has the common sense not to misuse them here... Or does she?

Sakuya has a history of being a hardcore villain back in the other world. Plus, if she's still suffering from otherworld syndrome, I can't trust her. She may score high in ethics class, but she lacks an ethical compass.

I decided to tail Sakuya. If she's planning to commit misdeeds here, I need to stop her. It's my duty as a fellow returnee from the other world.

The sun had fully set, and the neon lights of the arcade beyond the alley flickered faintly.

She hurried into the basement of an old building. The stairway lighting was dim, graffiti adorned the walls—a place with an underground vibe. I followed quietly, keeping my presence hidden through sheer willpower.

But what awaited me at the bottom was blinding lights, flashy electronic sounds, and an automatic door that welcomed all.

It was a small arcade you'd find in any provincial city. I felt deflated realizing it wasn't a shady place.

Inside, the arcade was a bit too old to call ordinary.

Claw machines with worn-out plushies, game cabinets playing music from a bygone era with pixelated screens. The whack-a-mole game's crocodiles had long lost their original green, now a dull light blue.

For some reason, this place felt nostalgic...

I searched for Sakuya. She was standing in front of an unremarkable punching machine.

Swinging her slender arm, lacking any real strength, she punched the machine's bag.

"Aaaah! So... tired...!"

She cried out softly.

"How am I supposed to suddenly be a normal high school student now!? Pretending to be an honor student is more exhausting than being a witch, I don't know what to talk about with kids these days, and smiling so much made my cheeks cramp!"

Beep, beep, beep... The machine displayed her score.

"What do you mean, thirty points!?"

Lame. That'd be a failing grade on a test.

Sakuya slumped against the machine.

"Ah, I'm so hopeless, only worth thirty points as a human being. I just want to go home, skip school, and binge Netflix all day. I can't... take it anymore..."

Her muttering blended into the arcade's noisy background, inaudible to ordinary people. But with my heightened senses, I heard every single word.

...

Unable to watch any longer, I spoke up from behind.

"What are you doing...? Are you okay?"

Sakuya turned around and gasped softly.

She froze, not uttering a single word.

What the heck is going on?

For some reason, she was alone in an arcade completely unlike the well-behaved 'Fumiduki' image she had at school. She was spilling out her gloomy inner thoughts, taking out her frustrations on a punching bag.

Considering the situation, her reasons, background, and statements...

"Don't tell me..."

It hit me.

"—You're a 'high school debut,' aren't you?"

Sakuya jolted, her delicate shoulders twitching.

...Which means.

"And not just that—"

Could it be that making a 'high school debut' wasn't enough for her?

"—You made an 'otherworld debut' too?"

Silence implies consent. She pressed her lips tightly together and averted her gaze.

So my hypothesis is this:

First, assuming that this gloomy side is Sakuya's true nature.

Second, her behavior as the honor student 'Fumiduki' that I've seen all along is the result of her 'high school debut'—in other words, an act she's been putting on since before our second year.

Third, her actions as a 'witch' are also an act. Because someone who would make a 'high school debut' would also make an 'otherworld debut' when going to a world where no one knows them... Makes sense?

Well, given her statements and reactions, I must be right.

Finally, I connected the dots about what happened during lunch. If both the 'witch' and the 'honor student' personas were acts, no wonder she's good at wearing a mask in front of others.

As I nodded in understanding, Sakuya—whose facade had been peeled away—blushed and trembled.

In a faint voice, she muttered,

"I'll... erase your memory..."

She swiftly raised her hand to her eyes. Even through her colored contacts, her eyes began to glow with a magical red light—

"Wait, wait!"

I don't want my memories erased. I don't want anyone messing with my brain.

Desperate, I looked around. Then, an idea struck me.

"That's it, let's have a contest!!"

I hastily pointed at the nearby arcade games.

"The loser does whatever the winner says. Whether it's erasing memories or brainwashing, anything goes."

Sakuya lowered her hand slowly. With a cold, expressionless gaze, she replied:

"Fine. I'll utterly destroy both the game and your memories."

...Scary.

"Let's go with this one."

The game Sakuya chose for our battle was an old fighting game. Worn-out joysticks and buttons, low stools. The display, limited in color, was so vivid it hurt my eyes.

"Isn't this game a bit old? You sure about this?"

I wondered if it might break if we touched it...

"It's a retro game, so we'll both have little experience—makes it fair, right? This game doesn't have projectiles or crazy special moves; it's just simple punching and kicking. Any experience with fighting games?"

"No. Not that I remember."

"Then I'll explain the controls. First, this button is..." Sakuya spoke matter-of-factly. "There are mainly three types of moves: strikes, throws, and guards. Each move has strengths and weaknesses—think of it like rock-paper-scissors. There are also high, mid, and low attacks, but—"

Half-listening, I thought, man, her natural tone is really low-energy. Her voice lacked its usual pep, and her expression seemed somewhat listless. And she talks fast.

"So, this is the real you after all."

She paused her explanation and gave me an annoyed look.

"Ugh, seriously!"

Sakuya ruffled her hair lightly, careful not to mess it up.

"Yes, you're right. Just as you said. High school debut, otherworld debut—I'm a role-playing human!"

With a burst of emotion, she tore off her mask. Not a bad dramatic exit—I'd give it a sixty. But—

"What the heck is a 'role-playing human'?"

"It's a pathetic kind of person who can't live without playing assigned roles."

"Is that even human?"

In other words, a persona—a survival tactic where you wear an appropriate 'self' to fit the situation.

Anyway, back to the fighting game. I got a handle on the controls.

"But if you know the rules, that means you have experience, right? This choice isn't fair."

Sakuya crossed her slender arms, hugging her chest with a smug smile.

"Oh? You were so good at close combat in reality, but you're not confident in games, Hero?"

I sighed at her self-assured taunt.

"Fine, I'll take the bait."

I couldn't stay silent when the witch who only used long-range attacks over there was provoking me like this.

I'll accept any challenge thrown at me.

"And you don't have to force the bad-girl act. It's not just painful to watch; it's cringeworthy."

"Shut up, shut up! I'm gonna beat you up!"

She sat at the opposing game cabinet set up face-to-face. We couldn't see each other anymore. Glancing at the contents of my wallet, I inserted a precious coin.

"The match is best of two rounds."

"First to win two out of three, got it."

—And so, with my memory and her dignity on the line, the game began.

At the top of the screen, the time limit and HP bars were displayed. On a square ring, two 3D polygon characters faced each other. I chose a rugged male character; she chose a slender female one. I didn't know the character differences, but even a delicate-looking opponent is probably a seasoned fighter.

First move. A quick punch from the girl came flying. I couldn't guard in time. My HP bar took an early hit.

I see. My character looks muscular, but hers is nimble due to her slender build. Her reaction speed is faster. Carelessly approaching is dangerous. I hopped back to the rear of the ring.

There's plenty of time left. I decided to stall until I got used to the controls. While maneuvering our avatars, I tried to strike up a conversation over the cabinet.

"Hey."

"What?"

Even though the game sounds drowned out our voices, we could hear each other just fine.

On the 3D screen, I inched my avatar closer to hers, gauging the distance.

"Why did you bother with all that acting? Even before we went to the other world."

I understand putting on a facade in front of others. Everyone does it to some extent. For example, I probably acted like a senior in front of underclassmen.

But her acting is over the top. At school, she wears the mask of an 'honor student'; in the other world, she played the 'witch' role thoroughly. Including her true self, I've seen her display three different personalities in a single day.

She let out a big sigh.

"Why, you ask? Because my gloomy real self is something I can't show anyone! What's the point in knowing that? If you're thinking of exploiting my weakness, I have plans of my own...!"

...This girl is seriously insecure, isn't she? With that personality, she managed to pull off such a high-flying act. And what does she think I am?

Even if I know her true nature, it's not like I'm going to do anything about it. But I know exactly how I feel about it.

On the ring, as I kept dodging her attacks, I replied.

"That's a relief!"

"What is...?"

"I'm glad you're not actually suffering from otherworld syndrome."

If her behavior as the 'witch' was just role-playing, then she hasn't truly gone off the deep end.

Her trespassing into my room through the window—that seemingly outrageous behavior—was just her seriously considering her role as the 'witch' and deciding, in all seriousness, to come in through the window. Either way, it's a nuisance.

It's annoying but understandable. I dislike things I can't comprehend more than being inconvenienced. If there's a reason or circumstances I can accept, I can swallow most things.

"Sorry for accusing you of brainwashing your classmates. I'm glad you're not inherently a bad person."

She hasn't lost her ethics, common sense, or humanity.

If she'd used magic to easily gain friends, she wouldn't have realistic worries like not knowing what to talk about. Complaining that school is a hassle is a perfectly ordinary gripe. The fact that her stress relief involves modest visits to arcades says a lot about her fundamentally good nature.

"............"

Now, time to focus on the game. I can't keep running away, or the time limit will kill me. I measured the distance, pushed the joystick forward, and moved in to attempt a throw. But as I carelessly approached, she irritably kicked me away. Taking the attack head-on, my character reeled back. She followed up with a flying kick and then a relentless three-hit combo. While her character remained unscathed, my HP was already halved.

"No, I am a bad person."

If I don't get close, I can't defeat her, but if I do, I get beaten up.

But there's still a chance to turn things around—

"—I'm beating up a beginner, fully aware that you're inexperienced."

As I tried to regain my stance and set up a guard, her character slipped in and grabbed my arm. Throws beat guards. There's no way to avoid it.

My heavy character was effortlessly lifted into the air and thrown out of the ring.

"I didn't mention the game set conditions, did I? Knockout, time over, and—"

"Ring Out Loss"—0-1.

In any game, it's common sense that falling off the stage means defeat. Needless to say, but I forgot.

"Sorry for being underhanded."

"What are you talking about? It's only natural not to hold back to win."

Besides, acting like this is underhanded is being too much of a goody two-shoes.

From the other side, I couldn't see her expression, but I sensed she was taken aback.

"You finally got a win; aren't you going to gloat like usual?"

"Evil laughter is surprisingly tiring. It's not something I'd do at the risk of revealing my true self."

"So you knew you were doing something exhausting on purpose."

Then don't do it from the start, seriously.

The second round began smoothly.

I observed in the first round. I can't afford to lose the second.

After one match, I realized something. Apparently, moves have different speeds. If you act faster than your opponent, your attack lands first—that obvious fact applies in games too.

While there are three categories of moves, the moves themselves vary depending on how you press the buttons. But as a first-timer, I didn't know which button did what. Sakuya's omission of this explanation shows a bit of a mean streak.

But I don't intend to criticize.

In a friendly game between pals, maybe, but we're enemies betting on important stakes. This is a battle.

In the other world, the spirit of fair play isn't even worth feeding to dragons. There's nothing more efficient than beating down an opponent who knows nothing. If I were in Sakuya's position, I wouldn't have even told her about the move relationships before challenging her. The minimal rules she taught me are generous enough.

I mashed the buttons haphazardly. Even if I don't know how to execute specific moves, pressing buttons will make something happen. I'll let my hands get used to the movements.

I heard her click her tongue.

"Button mashing is so lame!"

"Doesn't matter. Victory is justice."

Moves have strengths and weaknesses like rock-paper-scissors. Probably, the intended way to play this game is to predict the opponent's move and use one that has an advantage. But now it's purely a game of chance. If my moves are random, she can't predict them. ...Maybe she should've explained more.

We gradually chipped away at each other's HP. But unfortunately, the time limit was decreasing faster than our HP. A stalemate.

Well, I guess I can't win that easily.

I glanced at the countdown timer at the top center of the screen. Twenty seconds left.

"I want to confirm two things."

While keeping my hands moving, I deliberately started a leisurely conversation, aiming to exploit a weakness.

"You said you've been acting like an honor student, so you don't have any real friends, do you?"

During today's lunch break—even those classmates you were with.

I heard Sakuya's exasperated voice from the other side.

"What do you mean by 'real friends'? Go ahead and define it."

"If you can't show your true self, they're not friends. Have you ever had even one person like that?"

"Ugh..."

Bullseye. Surely, you've had at least one in your life.

"And yet you had the nerve to say, 'Shall we compete on the number of friends'..."

"Ugh..."

—Competing over something as trivial as numbers is ridiculous. As long as you have even one person you can really talk to, that's enough.

In the game, the time limit was approaching. Five seconds left. She rushed in recklessly, trying to hide her agitation.

"Doesn't matter! We're not kids; even without that..."

Taking advantage of the opening, I input the command for a move I had just learned by feel. A sharp elbow strike pierced the girl's unguarded midsection.

"I messed up..."

Time's up. With that last hit, I had a slight HP advantage in our stalemate. Victory by decision, 1-1.

"Now then."

We're tied.

I imagined Sakuya clenching her fist atop the cabinet and asked:

"If you lose, you'll do as I say, right?"

"...That's a separate matter."

She's really bad at accepting defeat.

"Well, just hear me out."

She had asked earlier, "What are you going to do knowing my true self?" I thought there was nothing to do, but during this battle, I came up with a brilliant idea.

"Sakuya, if I win—"

"—Why don't we become friends?"

"...Huh?"

The gong for the third round sounded.

"W-What are you talking about?"

Sakuya's voice quavered. We continued to talk while half-heartedly exchanging blows.

"Did you forget what our relationship is?"

That's right. We were former enemies, like cats and dogs. She always says she 'hates' me.

But—is that really true?

Isn't that based on the roles we played as Witch and Hero in the other world?

If you truly hated someone, common sense dictates that you'd avoid them—you wouldn't want to see them, remember them, or have anything to do with them.

"You know, perhaps—"

The fact that you come to see me, challenge me.

"—You don't actually hate me, do you?"

—Even if you don't like me, I'm not so dense as to not notice that.

So.

"Is that just my arrogance talking?"

On the other side of the screen, Sakuya didn't answer. I pressed on.

In the game, I stopped moving. She hesitated, stepping back slightly.

◆◆◆

I kept silent and listened to him speak.

To prevent any strange sounds from escaping, I bit my tongue. A bitter, metallic taste slowly spread in my mouth.

How conceited. So self-aware. "You don't actually hate me," he says?

"...I hate how unnecessarily perceptive you are."

I told myself that.

—It's okay. If I win, I can brainwash him and erase the ugly side of myself that I exposed.

I gripped the joystick tightly.

The third match unfolded differently from the first two. Now that Asuka understood the controls, he wasn't being beaten one-sidedly or flailing around aimlessly. Earnestly, following the strategies he'd grasped, he moved to launch attacks that had an advantage against me. His quick learning was infuriating.

...Honestly, I'm just a beginner with a bit more experience. That's true for all games.

Without friends to play with, there's no way to get better. And since returning to this world, I haven't had the time.

So as two beginners, our mind games were on equal footing, and our HP gauges steadily decreased on both sides. There would be no time-out decision.

—I can still win.

Precisely because we're on the same level, even a small edge makes a big difference. I have the advantage of knowledge and experience.

The key in fighting games is to land moves with advantageous matchups as quickly as possible.

For example, even if we input our move commands at the same time, the move with the shorter startup time will hit first. If you use a move with a short startup time, you can strike first even if you input it later than your opponent.

In other words, it's like throwing after seeing your opponent's move in rock-paper-scissors. If you can see the move your opponent uses and then use a faster move with an advantageous matchup, you can theoretically win.

But it's impossible to react after seeing their move. The startup time is measured in 'frames'—one-sixtieth of a second. Literally an instant. It's impossible for humans to see and react in time.

Therefore, what decides the match is the mind game.

Players develop habits in their fighting patterns. Both in reality and in games, Asuka tends to trust his arm techniques more than his leg techniques. He prefers attacking over guarding, even if it means taking some damage. Typical musclehead.

In other words, I know his habits, but since I didn't use close-range attacks in the other world, he can't read mine.

My aim is a perfect knockout. Even if it's in a virtual world, I want to make him kneel at least once.

First, I take his mid-level flying punch.

At the moment he fails his attack and is left open.

I input my command in pursuit. Then, I unleash a high-level finishing kick.

(I've got you!)

Or so I thought. But suddenly, a tingling discomfort ran through my head. For some reason, I recalled the color of his eyes.

—That unnatural blue. Why does he have eyes that color?

I felt as if Asuka, on the other side of the screen, was smirking confidently.

"—Sorry."

I heard the clicking sound of his command input, sinking in like a decisive blow.

"What?"

My kick arced through the air.

But before my attack could land, he ducked low into my guard, grabbed my arm.

The next moment, I was thrown into the air.

A perfectly advantageous matchup. As I was slammed to the ground, his finishing flying kick pierced me.

Did I lose the mind game? No, that's not it. Because his command input sounded after mine.

Could it be—that he reacted after seeing my kick and inputted a move afterward? In those few instants? That's...

"How did you...!?"

He boldly gave the answer.

"Otherworld LASIK."

—A ridiculous answer that he's just got really good eyesight. I couldn't see him, but he was probably looking smug.

"Do you think you can just add 'otherworld' to everything!?"

And then, along with my stupid-sounding scream, the KO announcement echoed from the screen.

What a crappy game...! I resisted the urge to slam my fist on the machine in anger. Hitting the cabinet isn't ladylike, and breaking it is out of the question. Besides, it's not the game's fault.

There was no cheating in the game. The player's physical abilities were just unfair. I want to punch him instead of the machine.

Unaware of the humiliation making me writhe inside, Asuka stood up and said,

"I win. I avoided having my memories erased. As promised, you'll do as I say, right?"

—Become my friend.

Biting my lip bitterly. I don't remember making such a promise. Having lost, I had no legitimate reason to refuse.

But I couldn't accept it.

"What benefit is there for you... What's fun about becoming friends with someone like me? You should have realized by now—I'm gloomy, a liar, and have a horrible personality."

Asuka sighed in exasperation.

"No matter how you look at it, you're a good person at heart. All the evidence points to that."

"Huh?"

"Those reference books you lent me."

He continued.

"You even included neatly organized notes summarizing the classes in an easy-to-understand way. I thought that amount was a bit overkill, almost harassment. But it's too kind to be that."

"Oh, that." I sighed.

"I just couldn't bear to watch how pathetic you were. Unlike someone, even in my act, I'm a proper 'honor student.' I just pushed unused books onto you as a substitute for recycling old paper."

"You're definitely a liar. And a bad one at that."

I scowled.

Asuka calmly continued to press me.

"I thought something was off about those reference books. You bought them after returning to this world, right? At most, one or two months ago. Yet they didn't look new."

"...They were second-hand."

"You're supposed to be a rich girl in this world, right? Do you buy used books?"

"That's a prejudice. I have a commoner's side too, you know?"

I brushed off the embroidered pattern on the bomber jacket I wore as a disguise. The design was of lilies.

"Then it's a choice between admitting you're a fake rich girl or that."

...I don't like either of those.

"Now I get it. Those books were well-used."

I realized how poor my lie was. Instead of saying 'unused books,' I should have said 'books I no longer use.' But if I said that, my desperate efforts would be exposed—the fact that I'm not actually good at studying but tried hard to act as an 'honor student' again.

...But perhaps I couldn't help it, since I couldn't stand worrying about him.

Even though I'm supposed to be the villain. Being so compassionate is annoying.

As I was sinking into self-deprecating gloom over my pseudo-self-esteem, Asuka said,

"I know how hard it is to make up for a two-year gap. After all, I'm full of failing grades. Even if it's an act as an honor student, you're putting in a lot of effort."

He sighed.

"Same in the other world. I don't know if it was for your wish or whatever, but you acted as a villain for two years, even though it didn't suit your personality..."

His words alone might seem mocking, but his tone had a sympathetic ring to it.

—I realized. Perhaps he hasn't denied my act, my lies, even once.

I snapped back to reality. Wait, wait. I can't let myself be swayed.

I remembered my purpose. Even if acting like a bad person was just an act, my grudge isn't a lie.

There are three things I can't forgive. He utterly defeated me. He denied my efforts. And he got in the way of fulfilling my wish.

Just because he acknowledged one of my efforts doesn't erase the lingering ill will of being defeated twice, and now, to say "okay, let's be friends"—

"Besides, I know now. That you're forcing yourself."

He continued, giving the real reason for his somewhat frivolous invitation.

"Sorry, but I can't ignore it now that I know. After all, I'm such a good guy that I can even save a world I don't know. Even if I say so myself."

"...A truly good person wouldn't say that about themselves. And I'm not forcing myself."

"Is that so? You seem to be getting along at school, but if you're always wearing a mask, you don't have anyone to talk to honestly, right?"

Of course. Because there's no one who knows the real me, buried under multiple layers of facades.

"But I know all your hidden sides. I just found out. I can listen to any complaints or silly worries you can't tell anyone else. I can help you when something happens."

Asuka leaned on the cabinet and peered down at me.

"So, how about it? I think we can be quite convenient friends for each other."

Sympathy. I didn't want to grasp a hand extended for such a reason.

...That's part of my bad personality.

I was about to look up and say, "No, thank you."

"—Just kidding. That was just a pretext. The truth is, it's for my own selfish reasons."

Then I directly saw Asuka give a half-embarrassed wry smile.

"For your own reasons?"

Is there any benefit for Asuka in becoming friends with me?

"Yeah. Since I returned to this world, I've wanted to live a normal life. But it's kind of dull. You know, like having ordinary fun, ordinary friends—that kind of thing. The normal everyday life I wanted was that. But as you said, maybe my idea of 'normal' is out of sync due to the other world."

—Yes, we're not normal.

We probably can't truly understand the kids in this world. If we want to have a normal school life, a normal youth, we can't be ourselves. If we wish for normalcy, we have no choice but to act normal.

"But Sakuya, you're the same. We share the same 'normal' of having experienced another world. Just as I'm the only one who knows your secret, you're the only one who knows about me."

He looked straight at me.

"So let's settle this here. You said earlier, 'Shall we compete on the number of friends?' Neither of us has any real friends now. If we become that to each other here, the number of friends is one to one. Our competitions in this world will be one win, one loss, and one draw. Don't you think it's a good time to call it even?"

—What I couldn't forgive was that he utterly defeated me—

But now, as if to say this is no longer the other world, he, who would use any means to win back then, proposed to cut off the ill will.

For someone who lived in a world where losing meant death, this must be quite a concession.

"Also, if you're going to be my first here, I'd like it to be you, Sakuya. You, who were my enemy over there... That way, it'll finally feel like 'our battle is over.'"

Asuka said. The one time he called me 'Sakuya' instead of 'you' sounded sincere.

"Let's be friends, Sakuya. I want to be that with the real you—not 'Fumiduki' or the 'Witch.'"

He said lines that made me embarrassed just listening, without any hesitation.

"So from now on, instead of coming to pick fights, come invite me to hang out."

"During the game, I was thinking—if this were playing instead of fighting, how fun it would be. And if we're 'friends,' you wouldn't have to force yourself to do that exhausting evil laugh. You wouldn't have to come in through the window just because you're a witch, right?"

"Ah..."

I understood—this is probably the biggest benefit offered to me.

I have a bad habit. Role-playing, excessively wearing masks in front of others.

In this world, I've lived wearing the mask of an honor student, thinking 'I have to be a good girl.' In the other world, I spent my time acting, thinking 'I have to be a bad person.' The direction of the acting is opposite, but it was easy. Opposites are similar like mirror images. After acting as the witch for two years, it's become as natural as breathing. On the contrary, I don't know how to stop.

That's what it means to be a role-playing person. Always playing some role is in my nature. And in front of the Hero, inevitably, my role becomes the 'Witch.'

At this point, returning to just being classmates is impossible after showing him my enemy face in the other world, and since we're not friends, there's no reason to show my true self... Until now.

Asuka is now trying to give me a new 'role'—the role of a 'normal friend.'

To me, who can't help but act as the 'Witch' in front of him, he's offering an excuse to be my true self.

—What a convenient proposal.

I imagine. If I became friends with him?

In the morning, when we meet in front of our homes, we wouldn't have to go to school separately. We'd walk side by side.

During lunch break, maybe—we'd spread out our lunches together on the rooftop.

After school, we'd hang out together, and even if one of us lost a game, there'd be no hard feelings.

At night, instead of visiting his room as the Witch, I'd go as a friend to hang out.

...Ah, this is bad. If I start to feel happy about it.

Because then I'd have to admit that it's a more wonderful future than just defeating him and making him kneel.

I have no choice but to admit it.

I stood up. I extended my hand.

"I admit defeat."

I thought that perhaps, just maybe, I was genuinely smiling now. Probably, surely, with a smile that wasn't a lie.

Asuka smiled. As usual, a grin with a furrow between his brows.

"So, our friendship is established."

Saying that, he extended his left hand, which he'd been hiding behind his back, toward me.

"By the way."

I intended to shake his hand, but... Is he holding something?

Clutched in his left hand was a broken lever—from the game cabinet.

—Huh?

"Uh... Sakuya. What do you think we should do about this?"

Cold sweat was streaming down Asuka's pale, strained face.

My mouth opened and closed wordlessly. I was too stunned to even speak.

This muscle-brained idiot...! Just when I was starting to think maybe I didn't dislike him! Now it's all ruined!!

◆◆◆

"I'll fix it with magic!" I snatched the broken part from him.

"In exchange, buy me some ice cream!"

"Got it, of course," Asuka said, turning his back to head toward the vending machine.

"Oh, by the way—"

He suddenly remembered something and turned back.

"That 'wish you wanted to fulfill in the other world' you mentioned—what was it?"

The third thing I couldn't forgive.

"...It's fine. Don't worry about it anymore."

"Hmm?" He tilted his head quizzically but didn't ask anything further.

—I had been lying.

From the start, the 'wish' didn't really matter anymore.

The wish I wanted to fulfill was:

"To go home."

—The wish I once wanted to achieve with my own hands... you have already granted it.

...It's childish and embarrassing that I lashed out because I was frustrated that my wish was granted even though I lost. I can't bring myself to admit it now.

Sorry, but I'd like to keep this secret from my 'friend' for a little longer.

To his retreating back, I whispered in a voice too quiet for him to hear.

"...Thank you."

"Hmm? Oh, it was nothing."

He casually picked up on it and turned around.

He probably thinks I'm talking about the ice cream.

"At times like this, you're supposed to pretend you didn't hear."

"Sorry, but I've got sharp ears."

He doesn't say "otherworldly ears" in this case.

"Besides—same to you."

At that moment, I still didn't understand what he was thanking me for.

3

To present ice cream to Sakuya, I searched for a vending machine in the arcade.

"You can choose the flavor you like," she had said, but what kind of request is that? It actually makes it harder. Ice cream is cold and delicious no matter what.

After inserting some coins, I stood in front of the vending machine, pondering for a while, when I noticed a familiar face nearby.

At a fighting game cabinet even larger than the one we played—a brand-new model—a black-haired girl was casually pressing buttons, steadily piling up victories. Draped over her slender frame was the same high school uniform with a neatly tied tie.

"...Ruri?"

The girl stopped her hand, which was about to insert another coin, and turned around.

Under her sidelong gaze was a beauty mark beneath her eye. Her jet-black hair, tied in a side ponytail, swayed, and through gaps in her hair, a silver earring peeked out. Not against school regulations. Even wearing a skirt, her overall vibe was somewhat androgynous.

"Hey there, Senpai. It's been two months. Since we met at the hospital. Still looking pale and sickly—I think you should've stayed in the hospital a bit longer."

In a husky voice with boyish intonations, the familiar girl spat out her venom matter-of-factly. I replied,

"Stop calling me that. I'm not your senior anymore."

"Oh, that's right."

The girl's name was Ruri Suzudo. Two years younger than me, she was a junior from my middle school club and the younger sister of my former best friend.

Ruri casually brushed aside her cool side-tail. With her dark, expressionless eyes, she gave a faint smile.

"We used to play games here a lot together, didn't we? After club activities, all of us. We'd say the loser has to treat, and you'd often buy me ice cream. Brings back memories."

"...Did we? I've completely forgotten."

I knew Ruri attended the same high school, but I didn't know her class and had never crossed paths with her in the corridors.

—Because right now, Ruri dislikes me.

Perhaps I shouldn't have called out to her, I thought, bracing myself. Ruri stood up, stretched, and approached me closely.

Then, as if she knew exactly what to do, she pressed a button on the vending machine.

"This is the flavor you liked."

With a clunk, the item dropped. Having completed her task, Ruri turned away without even glancing at me.

"Goodbye, Senpai. I hope we never meet again."

I reached into the pickup slot and retrieved the item with my right hand. I didn't feel the cold. The flavor was an excessively sweet-looking double chocolate.

"...I'll remember that."

I thought to myself.