Sword Witch Book One

(3)

Three days.

It had been three days in this new life, and so far, each one got a little easier. She had learned her “father’s” name was Marcus, and her little “brother” was Kioshi, which was frequently shortened to Yoshi unless he was in trouble.

The feelings of nausea when she was coming down in the morning or coming home after school had faded tremendously. The night before, she had even helped Saki, which had, indeed, been a shortened nickname of Misaki (and all nicknames Marcus’ doing), with the evening dishes. Saki had asked about school, she had answered more or less honestly, and it felt good, it felt like a productive time.

And best of all, no armored swordsmen or magical girls had intruded upon her day. Whatever psychological injury she inflicted on the blonde girl that night must have had profound effects to buy her so much time to herself. She briefly entertained gratitude that she did not, in fact, have any idea who these people were, lest she be wracked by feelings of guilt for what she’d so selfishly delivered upon the girl.

And then she shut her school shoes in her locker, turned around in her outdoor shoes for heading home, and found a very familiar shade of yellow filling her vision.

… Well, balls. She supposed it really was too much to have expected it to last forever.

The pigtails were more grounded in reality, and instead of a miniskirt decorated by a five year old who had found her mother’s ribbon stash, she wore the school uniform, and her neckerchief indicated they were in the same year. After a moment of reflection, she was certain she never saw the blonde in her own classroom, so she must have been in one of the others.

Despite all of the differences, however, she would’ve had to be completely blind to not have been able to tell the girl fidgeting in front of her was the same one from her first night.

“Riko,” the blonde started hesitantly, “this isn’t just me asking this time … We’ve all noticed you haven’t been acting like yourself, and Sarasa has decided to call a meeting. For your own sake.” That last line was said quickly, and then she stalled a bit longer, her neck twitching like she wanted to flinch away before she finished. “… Will you come?”

She’d half-expected something like this eventually, and was a little surprised it wasn’t her “family” that had brought it up first. Maybe she’d been close enough at home for it to get brushed off as a high school debut revision.

But whoever “we” were clearly interacted with her enough to know better. The swordsman had implied there was a full magical girl team. That must have been what this was all about, with this Sarasa being the leader.

She supposed she owed them at least that much. Well, maybe not personally owed them, but she was still using their friend’s identity. Really, if she were to be honest instead of making rationalizations, seeing how skittish the blonde was behaving had really thrown her in the guilt pillory after all.

“Sure, of course,” she agreed. “When?”

It was amazing how not lashing out at someone could make them less terrified of you, go figure. “Right after school.” The blonde noticed her eyebrow go up at the time. “Sorry! I’ve been trying to find a time to bring it up to you all day, but I wanted to wait for a time when you wouldn’t be upset and I’ve had a hard time reading you since …”

The blonde turned her head away, and raised her hand halfway as if to unconsciously rub her cheek, but caught herself and put it back down. She didn’t seem to want to elaborate on their last interaction, either.

“I … understand,” was all she could come up with to say. “I’ll have to call my mother and let her know. She’s been worried if I don’t come straight home without calling since I lost track of time the first day of school.”

When the blonde nodded, she pulled out the phone and opened her contacts to go through to Home. There were other names she didn’t recognize, but that hadn’t really surprised her. Then she paused as she realized Saki would want to know where she was going, but obviously the blonde considered the destination a usual one that didn’t need specification.

Where did Nariko Kelly usually go? Her mind went back to the locations her mother had said she called when trying to find her. “The fountain shop, right?”

“That’s right!” the girl gave with another nod, sending the bonbons at the end of her tails to bouncing.

A close save, she thought to herself as the phone began to ring. Thank heavens for gushing mothers, or else there was no way she could have gotten out of that without drawing suspicion.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, very little was said as they walked, and the whole atmosphere was awkward and uncomfortable. Obviously, she had literally nothing to offer in the realm of small talk, and it was clear that neither of them wanted to talk about the one interaction she could actually draw upon.

Still, she got the impression that the blonde was usually quite chatty. She didn’t miss the signs of the girl repeatedly trying to start talking about something that came to mind, only to chicken out.

Finally, she thought perhaps it would make it easier if she came up with something, anything, to say and break the silence. “How are your classes so far?”

The blonde girl scoffed good-naturedly and wheeled on her with a smirk. “What are you, my nanny?”

Unfortunately, the last time those words had been uttered wasn’t a pleasant memory for either, and both stopped in their tracks. The blonde’s eyes went to saucers as she recalled it, and the brunette broke her gaze.

“O-oh, look,” the blonde changed the topic, motioning ahead of them. “We’re here! I’ll bet everyone else beat us here!”

“Here” was a cozy-looking soda shop, like the designer had tried to both embrace and modernize the decades-old concept. It seemed popular enough, with modern pop music coming over the jukebox and a number of tables occupied by various groups of students.

Fortunately, the blonde led the way right to the necessary table. “Hey! Sorry we’re late!”

“It’s fine,” a girl with red hair replied, looking up from a menu before sliding aside an already empty cup. “Tamashini hasn’t shown yet, either, probably got roped into council stuff.”

A small-framed girl she recognized as the one that sat in front of her in class raised her glasses-clad face up at that. “Have we elected a council yet?”

Red leaned back in her chair with a scoff, crossing her legs as she hooked her arms over the wings of the high back. “Like that would matter.”

But there was a teacher here, her history teacher, in fact. Miss Sada, remarkable for her pure white hair despite her youthful appearance, only looked a little out of place among the freshmen. With her crop jacket and jeans, she could have passed for a visiting college student if she took a mind to do so.

“Please sit properly, Miss Homura. I know we’re not in class, but it makes you look like a hoodlum.” She turned toward the two newcomers and smiled, strikingly motherly for her features. “No need to keep standing, you two. We can get started without Reina if you’d like. I took the liberty of ordering your usuals, my treat.”

That was probably for the best, she thought as she watched the blonde girl eagerly hurry ahead at that and followed at a slower pace after her. Regardless of what she might usually order, this would provide important information for keeping her head down in the future and avoided awkward glances now.

She doubted it would be something she didn’t like. After all, even her handwriting had changed. Flavor profiles seemed small potatoes next to that, and she recalled that youth were supposed to have different taste buds, anyway. If anything, there was a larger chance she wouldn’t have cared for whatever she might have ordered on her own.

Miss Sada’s warm smile stayed on her all of the way over even as she unshouldered her backpack and set it beside the table. On some level, it felt penetrative, like the teacher was already unfolding all of the nonsense from the last three days without having to hear about it, but it would be impossible to say why. No matter how she looked at it, the gaze was only warm and comforting.

Still, the teacher said nothing until she sat down, and she couldn’t shake the idea that it was halfway a trap closing on her leg. “We haven’t really spoken with one another since the school year began, have we? How are you feeling, Nariko?”

“Like I’m being coddled ahead of an intervention,” she answered after only the briefest of pauses. No sense lying on that one. Even if the blonde hadn’t made it pretty obvious this whole get-together was about her, the tone around the table was pretty unmistakable.

The other girls looked a bit uncomfortable at such bluntness, but Miss Sada only chuckled at the answer in easy amusement. “Is that making you uncomfortable?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t surprise me, but you should probably ask the rest of the table. You look like the only one it doesn’t make uncomfortable here.”

The teacher sipped from her glass of soda before replying. “They may be uncomfortable, but interventions are an ultimate expression of love, those who care about you gathering together to ally against your oblivion and pull you back from the ledge as one.”

“We’re not actually here for an intervention, though?” It was Red, er, Homura, that spoke up, as if Miss Sada’s waxing poetic had put their cause for being here into question.

Though her smile stayed on her face, Miss Sada put off answering as a waitress came over with a tray of drinks, and started putting them in front of specific girls without having to ask what went where. Truly, they were clearly regulars.

“Strawberry malt,” the waitress said, placing a tall milkshake topped with whipped cream and sprinkled with something brown that was probably cinnamon on the table before the brunette’s wide eyes.

“Banana,” was next, which she set before the blonde, who was already licking her lips and giving a little clap.

“Grape Nehi.” This one was a deep purple soda put before the girl with glasses, who moved her lips in something that was probably an expression of gratitude, but was too quiet to be heard.

“And a cherries jubilee refill for Natsumi.”

This was apparently a surprise, as Red actually sat back up to the table at the sight of the milkshake. “Oh, Haya, you’re a mind-reader!”

The waitress just grinned at this. “More like I set a timer after you got the first one, gluttonous little sister.”

Now that it was mentioned, the brunette could see the family resemblance between the two. So this was Red’s family’s place, that explained why it was the group’s hangout of choice.

The waitress – Haya – turned to the teacher. “Ready for a refill yet, Miss Sada?”

“Oh, not quite yet, thank you,” she answered graciously. “I’m afraid I can’t bring myself to go through these things as fast as the girls.”

“That’s not a problem,” was the reply, “you just wave me down when you’re ready.”

Once the waitress left for other tables, Miss Sada turned back to them with her smile still intact. “You’re right, of course, Miss Homura, this is technically not an intervention, though to be fair to her, it is near enough for that to likely be a technicality from her perspective.”

The mind of the girl in question, however, was briefly elsewhere. The strawberry malt surprised her with how appealing it was, sitting before her in all of its rose glory, and she took a long pull from the super-wide straw provided.

It should have slammed into her mouth like a sickeningly sweet fist, but instead it was like a pianist’s fingers dancing over all of the right taste buds. For a moment, the room around her disappeared in a strawberry tide, and she was deep into a second pull before she registered it.

“Riko, be careful!” It was the blonde, reaching over and touching her arm. “You’ll give yourself a headache!”

Despite the low temperature inside her mouth, she felt her cheeks heat up. “Ah, sorry--” she stuttered as the world returned to her senses. “It’s just so good …”

Red was arching an eyebrow at the spectacle. “You act like you’ve never had a milkshake before.”

“Ehehe …” Was that always how she had laughed when embarrassed? “Not since school started, to be sure.”

The glasses girl had uniquely black hair, she noticed for what might have been the first time. In the right light, it seemed a shade of blue, like gunmetal. “Three days is long enough to give you malt withdrawal?”

“If I had known this was what she needed, I’d have been making sure she got it every day!” The blonde smiled brilliantly at her. “This is the most like your old self I’ve seen you in days!”

It struck her just how much the blonde girl must have been worrying about her, and it brought her down a little, though she kept the smile on her face for the sake of the blonde girl’s smile. “The magic of sugar, I guess.”

Was this really how they were accustomed to her acting? It made sense, she’d been behaving like a burdened adult stuck somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be, but if she were an easy-going high school student? Yeah, she could see how this would be more natural behavior for her.

“As sweet as that is,” Miss Sada put in without even pausing to dwell on the pun, “I have a suspicion the issues at hand go a little deeper than hypoglycemia.” She turned toward the brunette. “Even Miss Wakumi has noticed how unusual you’ve been the last few days, dear.”

She didn’t gesture, but the gunmetal girl clearly understood it as passing the floor to her. She nodded with her cut brushing her shoulders. It seemed to take her some effort to speak at a decent volume.

“Nariko has been quiet, studious, unobtrusive … I asked her for a pencil the first day, and she just let me have it. She didn’t try to talk to me further or gossip or anything.” The gunmetal girl lowered her head a bit. “It was nice.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell Wakumi that was because she had been too lost in her own affairs and was largely oblivious to the quiet girl’s very existence.

Homura had no such inhibitions. “In other words, everything she’s never been.” She crossed her arms as if annoyed by the idea, or the trouble and time it was costing her. “Those are red flags, Ran, not your cue to get a girlcrush.”

“Sorry ...” the gunmetal girl apologized, dropping her head again with a blush. Wait, she knew that wasn’t literal, right?

She realized she’d latched onto the straw again because the question made her stop as it occurred to her. Clearly, strawberry malt was a dangerous substance. She pulled away from it slightly and took a moment to organize what she knew.

Aside from the blonde girl, she had now heard the names of everyone at the table. None of them were Sarasa, the one who had called the meeting. No, wait, that wasn’t true. There was one person at the table, again excepting the blonde girl who had mentioned the name, that she didn’t know the first name of.

Was Miss Sada really the leader of a team of magical girls? If so, it was an incredibly unlikely convenience that she was also a teacher for them, a plausible authority figure that could ply that whenever needed with other authority figures. Was one of those two identities more true than the other, then? Was she their leader because she was a teacher and took on that responsibility, or was she their teacher because she had arranged to be so?

Of course, this line of inquiry inevitably brought her gaze around to the teacher. Instead of the teacher having to notice she was being looked at, the brunette had hardly glanced her way before Miss Sada instantly locked eyes, giving a reassuring smile that again struck her with a motherly sensation.

But that was starting to get unnerving rather than comforting.

She was fairly sure it hadn’t shown on her face, but the moment she registered the sensation of discomfort, Miss Sada’s own face immediately changed expression again. The teacher’s bet for round two was a bright, toothy smile.

No, that didn’t help, it was too sudden, the shift only made it worse.

Again, Miss Sada’s expression changed as if she recognized this. Thankfully, it seemed that she was ceasing trying to make pleasing faces since it was making the problem worse. This final time, she went for a normal smile with a slight apology to it before breaking gaze and sipping again from her ginger ale.

Yeah, no, Miss Sada was definitely a witch, too, or whatever was going on with the group. The possibility that the woman had been actively manipulating at least the brunette’s own emotional state with that motherly air only made it worse.

Miss Sada also seemed aware of the result and what the girl was feeling at the time. Maybe it was just coincidence and she was just being paranoid, but she’d been twisted around enough lately that even the chance was enough to unnerve her further.

“I’m sure she’s just trying to take high school seriously!” It was the blonde girl, the conversation was still ongoing and she had clearly been driven to take up her defense. “We’re not in middle school anymore, after all. When you think of it like that, we should all be treating it more seriously.”

That seemed to dampen the redhead, who sighed and deflated a bit back into her chair. “Yeah, when you put it that way, we’re only three years from college admission tests. I don’t like thinking of that so fast, though. The beginning of high school seems a little early to be worrying about the very end of it.”

“It’s never too early to plan for the future,” Miss Sada put in as if an idle spectator to the conversation, “but spending three years burying yourself in worry won’t do as much as you’d think to prepare yourself for it.”

She leaned forward onto the table. “Well, Miss Kelly?” she asked, turning her gaze to her once more. “Is that all it is? Just taking high school too seriously?”

The emotional effect of the gaze was notably almost entirely gone. Not completely gone, of course. There was a clear absence of hostility in it, and even an undertone of concern, but the overwhelming impression of motherly love had slipped away, or subdued itself. No doubt for her benefit.

Nevertheless, the gaze said something else. It wasn’t accusatory, it didn’t say it thought she was planning on lying, but it did seem to make it clear it would know if she did.

She broke sight with it and stared into the depths of the cup instead, stirring it with the straw as she gathered her thoughts and chose her words.

“It’s part of it,” and that was true. She understood better than anyone actually her age how important it was to not procrastinate on school work, or to get into the habit of disregarding individual components of it as less important or something she could catch up on later. If she had to start over as a student, she was determined to handle that correctly.

“But not why you’ve been avoiding Miss Chiaki,” the history teacher easily prodded her along, “or why you didn’t aid her in fending off Dakunaito.”

On the bright side, she now had two more names. This had been hugely informative in that regard. On the other hand, this was getting immensely dangerous very quickly. Miss Sada knew too much to be willing to settle for half-answers. She had no desire to sound like a lunatic, or to upset someone who obviously had mental powers.

But what could she say? This wasn’t the first time the line of questioning this was heading for had come up, after all, and she already knew she was physically incapable of giving sufficient answers. Even if she could, she would still sound mad. Without them, she would only sound even worse.

She was now staring exclusively at the swirling contents of the glass, her chin on her other arm. “I couldn’t,” she provided, complete truth, then followed with a mostly-truth. “He’d already been kicking me around. By the time she showed up, I was spending the whole time getting myself together.”

“It’s true,” the blonde confirmed. Though she was also morosely staring, her at a spiral on the table, it seemed she couldn’t resist speaking up for her friend despite them both knowing the memory they were coming up on. “She was pretty beaten up when I got there.”

Little surprise the mood shift didn’t go unnoticed. Even Red wasn’t completely convinced. “So you’ve been avoiding everyone ever since just because you were ashamed you actually lost a fight? Come on, you lived, so it couldn’t have been too bad.”

Poor, quiet Ran, at what was obviously great discomfort to her to be so assertive, had to contribute, as well. “And the attack was at the end of the first day, which she had already spent not showing up to anything.”

Silent curses against their intuition ceased in a moment as she suddenly realized she had a path out.

She had already claimed to have been disoriented and distracted that day. She’d left her house far too early, she forgot her lunch, she wandered around during the lunch break, and she forgot to call home when she impulsively stayed at the library too long, frightening her mother.

First day jitters were an easy excuse that would explain the first day, and then Natsumi had unknowingly provided the excuse for the rest.

She opened her mouth and inhaled to speak.

… And choked on the air when Miss Sada looked at her. How a gaze could simultaneously hold no hostility and still so much emphasis on keeping one honest was bewildering, but it no doubt felt like a field mouse that realized an oddly vegetarian hawk had seen it. With the lie shriveled and dead upon her tongue, she was forced to reconsider.

This time, the pause went for much longer, and they permitted it without interruption. It was obvious that she was thinking carefully about what to say rather than avoiding answering.

Of course, she had to consider not just what she would say, but how she would say it and how they were liable to respond. Even if she couldn’t lie if she wanted to, thanks to Miss Sada’s gaze still drilling down on her, she still didn’t want to just blurt out poorly considered answers that made her look insane.

She pulled from the strawberry malt for a little more sugary confidence.

“I wasn’t avoiding any of you, not really,” she finally answered, half-consciously wrapping the glass close to her with her arm as she idly fiddled with the straw. “I just … didn’t know.”

And how could she? She couldn’t have known there was a meeting when she didn’t even know the people at the meeting existed.

“But we’d been talking about it since the end of middle school,” Homura countered critically. “If you want lunch to yourself, that’s your own business, I guess, but Tamashini has had the club paperwork filed and everything ready for us since the teachers opened their offices.”

She anticipated as much, honestly. This was obviously something the group had planned before the school year since nobody had brought it up, yet they expected her to know about it. It certainly followed this world’s inclination to make decisions for her on its own and conveniently never inform her of it.

Clearly, for some reason, she was expected to know all of this as if she had been part of it. Maybe that was because this was simply a continuous life she was slipped into the middle of and whatever powers that be couldn’t be bothered to just make her a transfer student or something. Or perhaps she was supposed to receive new memories, but for some reason, they never made the trip. There was no way to even hazard a guess at this point.

Heck, no reason to assume this was some sort of cartoon, magic and monsters aside. Maybe she just hit her head and was making it all up. In any case, it had no impact on the immediate situation of trying to figure out how to navigate the result.

“I’d been disoriented all day,” she answered with full sincerity. “I honestly had very little awareness of anything, just … drifting through the whole time, hardly half a clue of what to do with myself.” This was one hundred percent the truth.

She gave a silent mental apology to the Wakumi girl for how she was about to sacrifice her for her own sake, and motioned across the table. “But at least one of you knew exactly where I was all day long for the last three days, and nobody ever said so much as boo. Instead, you all wait and gang up on me here.”

She had to watch as Ran’s form guiltily collapsed in on itself knowing she was the one to inflict it on the frail-looking girl. “I’m sorry …” the gunmetal girl said for the second time.

The scene got under Red’s skin, as well, clearly, as she bristled practically like a hedgehog, unable to remain seated. “That goes both ways, you know!” Homura slapped the table for emphasis, though strangely, nobody, even at adjacent tables seemed to notice. “You never approached us, either! Or did you forget that we were supposed to be a team when everything else drained out of your head?!”

Yes, as a matter of fact, that was exactly what had happened, and in being brow-beaten by the redhead, she nearly retorted in exactly those words. Instead, she swallowed her knee-jerk retort, took a deep breath, and came to her feet, as well.

Miss Sada’s expression didn’t change at all, just continuing to stare right at her with the same bemused face. Everyone else at the table, however, seemed to inhale as they fell silent. Was she already known for some sort of temper? Or perhaps clashes between her and Natsumi were common and prone to at least volume.

The blonde girl looked worried, and the gunmetal girl seemed to want to hide under the table. Homura, however, remained steadfast, her eyes dancing with crystal fire in the light of the fountain shop as if daring her to challenge her. Whoever might normally be the one to break them up either wasn’t present or was letting it ride.

So it seemed to surprise both other girls when she exhaled instead and returned to her seat. “Sit down, Red.”

“What did you call me?” Homura balled her fist as if offended.

She shot her a glare instead. “You’re making a scene.”

She actually looked around the room to see if people were noticing, but at seeing that they continued to be oblivious to the exchange as she seemed to expect, the redhead wheeled back. “What are you talking about?!”

Well, that explained that. It wasn’t just her, they really were oblivious, and something the group was accustomed to. Probably why they were willing to talk so openly in a public place. It wouldn’t surprise her, now that she knew she was dealing with supposed witches, that there was, in fact, some sort of magic at work to keep the rest of the establishment from registering anything strange.

“It doesn’t matter if they notice it or not,” she replied coldly after taking another drink of her own to make the redhead wait for an answer. “Making a scene is making a scene. Sit down.”

That clearly put Natsumi on the back foot and flustered her as she tried to formulate a response, but she was too stubborn to bend just yet. “I-- … Not until you answer the question!”

“What question?” she demanded in return. “You want me to confirm what I forgot when my head was drained? Hmm? Is that the question you want me to answer?”

“You know what I mean!” To Homura’s credit, the pause had only been a moment long. “If something was wrong, why didn’t you come to us?! You’ve been asked that three times now!”

“And I’ve answered it three times!” It was starting to get on her nerves, in fact. “So why do you keep pestering me with it?!” Finally, she wheeled on the teacher and pointed her index finger at her, though Miss Sada’s expression remained unflappable. “And stop staring at me!”

“We’re just trying to help you, Riko.” The blonde was obviously attempting to be soothing and calm a fight that was clearly starting to spread.

It was the wrong thing to say. This time, she slammed the table with both hands, hard enough to threaten to topple the glasses on it. “Well, you’re NOT helping!”

The table went dead silent. Even Miss Sada’s bemused expression vanished. But it wasn’t because she’d finally snapped and shouted at someone. It was because, when she did it, the blonde girl flinched away from her.

In the silence, the brunette wilted and withdrew her hands from the table to return into her seat, lowering her head and refusing to meet the gaze of the rest of the table.

It seemed to stretch for an age before anyone could say anything, but the next time Homura spoke, it was in a different tone. She spoke like she no longer knew the person she was addressing. “Riko … What did you do to Haru?”

“Nothing!” It was the blonde that answered, desperately and loudly pleading defense. “It just startled me, that’s all, Homura! That’s all!”

“I hit her.” Her voice was quieter, and yet seemed to reach across the table with greater distance than the blonde girl’s near-shouting. “I was confused, frustrated and in pain. I was getting hit with a barrage of questions I couldn’t answer for the second time without relenting. I never should have done it. In my right mind, I never would have. I wasn’t myself.”

“If not you, then who were you, I wonder?” Miss Sada’s eyes no longer had that piercing effect, and her expression was only filled with concern for her students. Bemusement was absolutely nowhere to be seen any longer.

“It’s fine!” Haru was trying again to defend her to the table. “I was transformed, Riko wasn’t. She couldn’t have hurt me if she had been trying!”

The table barely seemed able to hear her, and Homura had broken her gaze from the brunette once more. “No wonder you didn’t want to show your face anywhere after that. Haru would have been wherever we were, and how could you have faced her?”

Miss Sada spoke again, though it was more constructive this time. “If she was delirious enough to do something like that, it’s no wonder she couldn’t transform to defend herself against Dakunaito. The mental acuity to maintain the spell just wouldn’t have been there.”

“Still,” Ran spoke up, barely more than a whisper as she stared into her remaining quarter glass of soda, “of all people on both sides, how could you in any state of mind ever bring yourself to strike her?”

Her energy was gone. She couldn’t even muster the strength to lie anymore. Let it all burn. She just sat there with her arms on the table and her head hanging, like a puppet with her strings cut.

“Because I had no idea who she was.”

It was even quieter than when she confessed to hitting the blonde, like she just couldn’t bring herself to speak loudly.

It might as well have been a gong at the table. Their faces were stunned all over again, unable to believe what they’d just heard. This was something even Haru, who had been there, hadn’t known, hadn’t had any idea of, and she stared wide-eyed in disbelief at the words.

“I’m sorry, Nariko, dear.” Miss Sada no longer looked the know-it-all spectator. For a moment, she looked as lost in impossibility as the girls around her. “What did you say?”

“I said I had no idea who she was!” This was louder, and she raised her face as if regaining life, tensing her arms as she leaned her weight into the table. “I still don’t! I don’t know any of you! I don’t even know who Nariko Kelly is!”

She wheeled on Homura, and this time, the redhead recoiled instead of defying her. “Is that what you wanted to hear, Red, you wannabe Sailor Mars? That you’ve been sharing a table with a stranger?! Because I’ve been doing it for three freaking days!”

She went around and pointed at each person at the table in turn, starting with Haru, then Ran, then Natsumi and finally Miss Sada. “I don’t know who you are, or who you are, or who you are, or who you are!” Her finger stayed on the teacher. “But I’m pretty sure I don’t like you!”

That seemed to cause a flash of pain to go across the history teacher’s face, but she was beyond caring, and she wheeled back to the table as a whole.

“I don’t know who this Tamashini is, either, or why in the world this Dakunaito guy has five feet of steel beef with me! And when I leave here after you’re all finished interrogating me, I’m going to a house that has a family that I also don’t know!

“The man, his wife, their little boy, they all think they know who I am, they think I’ve grown up in their care, they think I love them! And I’m going to go pretend that’s the case so they don’t throw me in an asylum when they find out I don’t know them from Mahatma Gandhi!”

She took a moment to refresh her breath as she gazed over her audience, each of them looking like they were at a horror show. “I didn’t transform because I don’t know how!” Then her finger began making the rounds a second time.

She pointed at Haru. “I didn’t go to school with you or eat lunch with you because I didn’t have any clue I was supposed to!”

Then at Ran. “I just gave you a pencil instead of chewing your ear off because I don’t spark up random conversations with complete strangers!”

Then to Natsumi. “And I didn’t come to your stupid club where you pretend to be superheroes because I had no idea any of this complete and utter nonsense existed! As far as my mind is concerned, it didn’t exist before I woke up three days ago on the first day for a school I’ve never attended!”

She finally turned back to Miss Sada, her chest heaving with her shouting and impotent rage and all of the adrenaline it sparked. “Is that enough truth for you, teacher? Hmm? Don’t want to be pinning me with that gaze you were using?” Her voice was beginning to raise again. “Want some more information? Maybe want me to write a paper on it?!”

“Enough!” It was actually Haru whose voice pierced the rant. “Riko, please, that’s enough.” She looked exhausted, head down, her forehead actually sweating. Her next words were much quieter. “Stop. Please.”

In the ensuing silence, it struck her how uncanny it was that the rest of the restaurant was still chattering in complete obliviousness to all of this, but she couldn’t continue, not with the way the girl pleaded. Still, her chest continued to burn just trying to hold it in, so instead, she just snatched up her milkshake, finished off the last of the strawberry malt and put it back on the table, no doubt harder than necessary.

“Thank you for the food,” was all she said, presumably to the teacher, but she didn’t actively direct it at anyone. Then she bent down and scooped her backpack over one shoulder, starting off.

“W-wait!” It was actually Miss Sada that got her wits back first. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going home,” she replied. Though she paused as bidden, she didn’t look back at them. “I think we can all agree this intervention session is a wash.”

She was nearly to the door when it opened ahead of her and a tall girl stepped in. She wore the same uniform at the others, though her neckerchief identified her as a year ahead. She had a regal bearing and a wise aura. While Ran’s hair was gunmetal blue in the right light, this girl’s long, thigh-length hair was completely pitch black in any light. She turned toward the brunette and there was recognition in her eyes.

There was also recognition in the brunette’s eyes, and she froze in her tracks, eyes wide. “You …” Her mouth moved as if she were trying to say something more, but nothing came from it, as if she were dumbstruck.

Confusion filled the older student’s face. “… Yes … I … am sorry I was late.” She turned on the spot as the brunette tried to circle around her without breaking eye contact, like she was watching a venomous snake. “… I was helping prepare documents for the council.”

The brunette kept going, however, only breaking gaze when a boy came in through the door she had her back toward.

“Oh! Hey! Watch--”

She didn’t show any sign of hearing the boy at all, only wheeling about, elbowing past him and darting out the door like she was fleeing for her life.

The raven-haired girl stared blankly after her for a long moment before turning back toward the others. “… What was that about?”

The others at the table looked just as bewildered, but Natsumi managed to shake her head. “She was saying she lost her memory. Said the reason she had been acting weird was because she doesn’t remember any of us.”

Tamashini turned back toward the door again as it eased shut. “She certainly seemed to recognize me, but I don’t believe I have ever been looked at with such horror. One would think she had seen a ghost.”