Wednesday afternoon. In the precincts of Yanagibayashi Shrine, the only sound was the regular scrape of a bamboo broom against the gravel. I had barely slept the night before. Even after crawling into my futon, that scene kept surfacing and fading in my mind, over and over. Through the window of Suimei-sou, I had seen Okabe-san and that beautiful woman with the reddish-brown hair. Words of heavy, painful secrets shared only between the two of them — time leaps, Mayuri-san's death — things I could never understand. *(I don't even have the right to stand beside Okabe-san.)* Every time I thought that, something deep in my chest tightened painfully. I felt like an impossibly small, insignificant existence. Even so, when morning came, the shrine grounds wouldn't wait for me. I rolled up the sleeves of my miko robes and picked up the bamboo broom as always. The white kosode and scarlet hakama. My smooth black hair tied back in a single bunch, I stood in the shrine precincts today again as a "miko." At the very least, I had to do the sweeping properly. By telling myself that, I was forcibly quieting my restless heart. The great ginkgo tree rustled its deep green summer leaves in the wind. Two hundred years old. This tree must have watched over people's feelings like this for all that time. Surely, someone must have felt this same aching sorrow I feel now, long, long ago. I was thinking such hazy thoughts — when it happened. *Clack.* The sound of wooden geta approached from beyond the torii gate. A visitor, perhaps — the moment I looked up, the broom slipped from my hands. Stepping through the vermilion torii was that woman. There was no mistaking her. Her vivid reddish-brown hair, reaching down to her waist, blazed brilliantly in the afternoon light. Her long, narrow violet eyes were fixed directly on me. A face so beautiful it stole my breath. As a fellow woman — no, I'm not truly a woman, but still — I thought she was perfect. Makise Kurisu-san. The genius girl who shared Okabe-san's secrets, whom I had glimpsed through the lab window last night. She walked straight toward me with unwavering steps. In her bearing, there was a strange strength — the strength of someone who did not deceive herself. Standing there, I felt my fingertips grow cold. "[gentle]Urushibara Ruka-san, right? I've heard about you from Okabe." Her voice was astonishingly clear and dignified. *From Okabe. She's heard about me. He's talked about me.* That fact made my heart pound sharply. But at the same time, a flicker of anxiety crossed my mind — *what has he told her?* "[scared]Y-yes... I'm Urushibara Ruka. Um, er... you're Makise-san... right?" I forced out the words, my gaze lowered. Intimidated by her intelligent eyes, I couldn't manage to lift my face properly. "[gentle]I apologize if I startled you. Showing up so suddenly. But I wanted to talk with you properly, just once." Saying that, Kurisu-san suddenly looked up at the great ginkgo tree. Gazing at the green leaves rustling in the wind, her profile seemed, somehow, just a little tired. I picked up the broom and leaned it against the wall. Then the two of us sat down side by side at the base of the ginkgo tree. Its large roots crawled along the ground, cool to the touch when we sat. Silence flowed between us for a while. It wasn't an unpleasant silence. It was more like a pause while we both searched for the right words to begin. "[serious]It's true that Okabe treasures you." It was Kurisu-san who broke the silence. At those words, I looked up with a start. "[serious]But right now... he's suffering because of something I can't do anything about either. I just wanted you to know that, at least." Kurisu-san's voice was perfectly composed. But I sensed, beneath that voice, the faintest seep of exhaustion. Surely, she too was desperately trying to support Okabe-san. "[whispers]Okabe-san is... what is he suffering from?" Gathering my courage, I asked. Kurisu-san smiled a little sadly and shook her head. "[sad]I'm sorry. I can't drag you into this." — *I can't drag you into this.* That reply was exactly the same as what Okabe-san had said to me yesterday. I'm on the outside. The two of them push me away with the same words. A dull pain shot through my chest. But more than that, there was no lie in her words. This person truly cared about Okabe-san and was desperately fighting something. That came through painfully clear. Jealousy, and admiration. Two conflicting emotions swirled helplessly inside me. "[whispers]...Makise-san, you're amazing." Before I knew it, those words had slipped out. "[surprised]...What is?" "[whispers]You... as a woman, you truly have confidence in yourself, don't you?" Even I was surprised by how honest those words were. Kurisu-san's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and then her expression softened. That smile had a gentleness befitting her age, like a young girl's. "[gentle]Confidence... I don't have that. Everyone's the same, right? It's just... I know that deceiving yourself is the most pointless thing of all." — *Deceiving yourself is the most pointless thing of all.* Those words pierced deep into my chest. Every day, I live deceiving myself. Having a boy's body, yet wearing miko robes, my heart that of a girl... but never telling anyone my true feelings, just constantly apologizing with "I'm sorry." I haven't even told Okabe-san the truth about this body of mine. Though wounded by Kurisu-san's words, I still thought from the bottom of my heart: *(This person is amazing.)* She does, as if it were nothing, what I could never do. I envy her. I admire her. And at the same time, it frustrates me. Between the two of us hung a complex, delicate atmosphere — not quite friends, not quite rivals. It was also a strange sense of solidarity. The solidarity of two people who care for the same person. Kurisu-san stood up and lightly brushed the grass from her skirt. "[gentle]You stay by Okabe's side." Leaving only those quiet words behind, she walked away beyond the torii gate. I could do nothing but stand and watch her retreating figure. *(Am I even managing to stay by Okabe-san's side?)* I was alone again in the shrine precincts. The wind blew, and the ginkgo leaves rustled noisily. — *Aren't I just being protected by him?* *Have I ever, even once, tried to stand by his side on my own?* Night. Even after dinner at home was over, I could barely touch my chopsticks. My head was filled with thoughts of Okabe-san. I couldn't shake the image of Kurisu-san's tired profile. Before I knew it, I had thrown a cardigan over my nightclothes and slipped out of the house, melting into the darkness of the night. My feet naturally carried me toward Akihabara's main street. The old, weathered outer wall of Suimei-sou blended into the night's darkness. A dim light leaked from the second-floor window. I had come here again. But today, I desperately wanted to see Okabe-san's face. I wanted to confirm that he was all right. I climbed the narrow, creaking stairs. In front of the door, I raised my hand to knock — that was when it happened. "[crying]Mayuri... don't let her die...! Please, she... she died again..." My hand froze. That voice was Okabe-san's. But there was none of his usual exaggerated theatrics, none of that chuunibyou-tinged tone. It was hoarse, trembling — a painful voice, like a small child trapped in a nightmare. Without thinking, I pushed the door open. The lab was dim, filled with a stifling, muggy heat. Okabe-san was lying on the sofa at the back of the room. His face was flushed red, large beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. His eyes were clenched shut, and he shook his head over and over in apparent agony. "[crying]Mayuri... don't let her die... I'll... I'll save her...!" Just hearing those delirious words felt like my heart was being torn apart. Beside him, Kurisu-san was sitting. A far cry from the dignified figure I had seen during the day, her face was pale as she pressed a damp towel to Okabe-san's forehead. "[whispers]He's barely slept for over three days. He's running a high fever." Kurisu-san looked up at me and said that in a hoarse voice. She was trying to keep her voice steady, but looking closely, the rims of her eyes were red and bloodshot. She too must have been at his side the whole time, utterly exhausted. "[crying]Mayuri...!" Again, Okabe-san repeated the delirious words. *Mayuri. Death.* I had heard those words through the window last night too. A terrible intuition — that Okabe-san was experiencing someone's death over and over again — sent a cold chill down my spine. But the words to ask what it meant stuck in my throat and wouldn't come out. *(I know nothing.)* *(I can do nothing.)* With trembling hands, I changed the towel on Okabe-san's forehead. That was all I could do. I am powerless. That fact, for the first time, pierced deep into my chest in clear, undeniable form. Okabe-san is suffering this much, and yet I can't even know the true nature of that suffering. I can't share it. I can only be here. In the dim room of the lab, only Okabe-san's pained breathing echoed. Outside the window, the neon lights of Akihabara flickered hollowly. I could do nothing but pray. That Okabe-san would not have to endure anything worse than this — that was all. Kurisu-san silently watched my hands at work. There were no words between us. But the quiet solidarity of two people worrying about the same person was undeniably there. What lies beyond this suffering? And what does the phrase "Mayuri-san's death" truly mean? Crushed by a heavy, oppressive anxiety, I still could not bring myself to leave Okabe-san's side.