“See what?” I pretended not to know what she was talking about.

Now that I thought about it, Misaki always wore long sleeves. Even in the recent heat, she’d continued wearing them—but so what?

I spoke to her in a cheerful voice. “What about today’s counseling?”

Misaki didn’t answer. Her body still curled defensively on top of the bench, she shook violently. Even her teeth were chattering.

A rather long stretch of time passed.

Finally, Misaki announced, “I’m leaving”, tottering uncertainly toward the park exit.

From behind, I dazedly watched her leave, debating whether I should call out to her. Misaki stopped in front of the swing set and turned around to ask, “Do you hate me now, after all?”

“What?”

“You probably won’t come anymore now.” She was the kind of girl who would make these strangely decisive declarations. We faced each other, about sixteen feet apart.

Misaki looked me in the eye, soon dropping her gaze. Then, once more, she stole a glance at me. “Will you come tomorrow?”

“If I break our promise, I’ll have to pay a one-million-yen penalty, won’t I?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s right!” Finally, Misaki smiled a little.

I went home to my apartment. After swathing my body in compresses, I slept.

Chapter 08.
Infiltration

Part One

It actually might have had something to do with a hormonal imbalance in my brain. Like crashing and receding waves, my mania and depression alternated, and that was how every day went. Just when I thought I felt better, I wanted to die so bad the very next day that I wasn’t good for anything.

Despite using drugs to force myself to be more energetic, I couldn’t carry on once again after they wore off. Shame about my past and anxieties for the future, as well as many other fears, assaulted me simultaneously. This ensuing depression was a rebound from my ultra-high-energy periods and, as such, was completely, horribly severe.

Even Misaki’s nightly counseling, which I should have grown accustomed to by then, remained frightening. Anxiety of an unknown origin had enfolded me, and the very uncertainty of that origin fanned my fear even more.

The initial, readily noticeable symptom was that my gaze stared to wander and I would become unable to look others in the eye while speaking to them. Oh, I was just like some overly self-conscious middle school kid. I felt embarrassed from the bottom of my heart. And because I was aware of that embarrassment, my behavior would become even stranger and more suspicious. It was a vicious cycle.