Every week, Fuyune Hisoki forgets. Who she is, those she interacts with. Like a never-ending cycle, she loses and loses and loses to the amnesia that's plagued her since childhood. Despite being an existence invisible to everyone, one winter morning...
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Episode 1.2: I'll Never Be That Me Again
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• TUESDAY •
"LET'S GET THIS straight, Hisoki. Although we may technically be a club, we're not all devil-may-care best friends outside of this art room. If not for the president, you sure as hell can assume we'd never interact. Especially me and Nagahiro—he's the one guy I can't stand."
Michiru Fukuroi's booming voice invites a shudder to my knees. If not for the firm hold I have on the nearby pillar, I'd have collapsed under my weight—converted into a shivering heap on the ground.
For someone who brewed the tastiest tea I've ever had the pleasure of drinking and baked biscuits that sent my tastebuds straight to heaven, his gruff, intimidating demeanour packs a punch.
As per our agreement, these pretty boy detectives agreed to look into my case. However, Manabu deemed that since they weren't doctors and could therefore not 'diagnose' me, the members were forbidden from approaching me with convoluted intentions. By interacting with me and getting to know me as I am—only then will they be permitted to hypothesize reasonable triggers and solutions.
"Besides, we are detectives. If you are hidden, we will find you. If you are forgotten, we will remember you. Is that not an ample reason to place your faith in us?"
With eyes clear as crystals, Manabu Sotoin's promise was by no stretch, flowery. How will they find a me that doesn't exist? What point is there in remembering when I'll inevitably forget? Surely, the contradiction in his words was obvious to him. Yet, he glimmered with unbelievable confidence, as if they were but trivial concerns.
The other members didn't share his unwavering poise but their respect for him ignited a fire in them the same. Somehow, our paths intersected. And until the end, each and every one of them will see it through.
While Michiru had rationalized that there was a time limit of a week before my memories reset, the ever unpredictable Manabu suggested they all to monopolize a week of their own, rather than cooperate.
"Where's the logic behind that?" Michiru, the constant straight man, had demanded yesterday morning.
"I'm afraid I'm not following either," Nagahiro agreed. "If we're tackling Hisoki-san's amnesia not as a sympathy case, but a mystery, why prolong the conclusion? By working in collaboration, we'll solve it much quicker, and allow her to feel at ease."
"Exactly. Each of us having a week of our own is counterintuitive," Hyota agreed, swinging his legs back and forth. "I'd get it if you asked us to think it over for a night and propose our hypotheses like we've done in previous cases, but having a whole week to both familiarize ourselves with Hisoki-chan and solve it. . . What do we gain from running such a roundabout marathon?"
