Maria-sama ga Miteru:Volume28 Chapter2

April Deja-vu

"Suzumoto Ichigo? It's Suzumoto-san, right?"

– I think that's how it all started.

It was just prior to the Lillian's Girls Academy's high-school entrance ceremony.

This was the first thing that the "Suzuki Futaba-san" seated in front of me said, as she turned around and read the nameplate attached to my desk. Then she said, "One more stroke than me."

Deja-vu.

My head spun. I knew this scene.

Well, there had been people with the surname Suzuki positioned in front of me at various times during primary and middle-school, but that alone wasn't the cause of the deja-vu.

Her face, in which the pimples were probably the most attractive feature, her short and stocky build, her shoulder-length hair which was just a bit too short for the pony-tail it was in – I remembered each of these little details and more.

There was no doubting that I had witnessed this scene before.

So I wasn't the least bit surprised when she followed up, "One more stroke than me," with the words I knew she'd say.

"And because of that you're one number higher than me in the class list."

See.

It seemed only natural to know this, like watching a repeat on TV.

*

Since that day, I'd occasionally experienced this deja-vu based precognition and it never really startled me. Either because of the way I'd been tempered by events of the past year, or because I'd simply become numb to the sensation of surprise.

A year ago I was involved in a car accident, suffered a head injury, and slept for ten months. Then, on a warm February morning, with no prior indication, I opened my eyes. The next two months consisted solely of having various scans taken and doing rehabilitation work. A whole year had passed by the time I was ready to resume normal school-life. As a result of my prolonged absence, the number of days I had attended and credits I had received were nowhere near enough to pass so, now, I've restarted high-school after a year's delay. Consequently, minor things like that don't really disturb me any more.

Anyway.

Although I look like I've completely recovered, I have no memories from the day of the accident, from the time I woke up until the accident itself. Well, according to the doctors I probably still have those memories somewhere, I'm just unable to find where they're stored.

At any rate, I interpreted my strange ability as a consolation gift, given to me by God who took pity on me for losing a part of my memory. Either that, or a part of my memory had to be erased to make way for this new ability. – Well, at the very least I felt that these were two sides of the same coin.

While on that subject, the deja-vu I occasionally encountered was neither beneficial nor detrimental – it could probably best be described as harmless. It was only minor things like knowing the pun the teacher was about to make several seconds before she said it, or that one of the teachers would hold quizzes from the first lesson onwards. The sort of thing that a new high-school student might hear from their onee-sama or an older student in one of their clubs, rather than experience as deja-vu. And even when I could predict that there was going to be a test, it was pretty much useless because I wouldn't know what questions would be on it. Additionally, I'd usually only realize right before it was about to happen, so it didn't give me any more time to prepare either.

"Ichigo-san."

I turned around and Futaba-san was standing there, smiling.

"The blackboard almost looks like a mirror, it's so sparkling clean, see."

She took the cloth from my hand and used it to skilfully wipe clean the inside of a bucket. I looked around and saw the desks, which had been stacked to one side, had been returned to their usual positions and the windows, all of which had been opened, were all now closed. It looks like the classroom cleanup had been completed while I was spacing out.

"Hehehe. Ichigo-san, your consciousness flies away somewhere else from time to time, doesn't it? Right? It's weird, but no-one says that. Even though there's this hard-to-approach vibe about you. Everyone says that you're conversing with God, since you look so beautiful and serene."

Futaba-san finished cleaning the bucket while she was saying this, then held my bag out towards me and said, "Let's go home together."

"It must be nice to be you, Ichigo-san. You've got slender arms and legs and you're taller than average. And your short hair matches nicely with your sharp facial features."

Futaba-san joked as we walked along the ginkgo tree-lined path, standing up on her tiptoes.

"I wonder. After all, little Futaba-san is quite cute, no?"

I smiled. Because that was how I felt, from the bottom of my heart.

There was nothing about me that should be envied. My limbs were slender because they had been reduced to just muscle and bone while I was comatose, and my hair was short because my head had been shaved following the accident to make it easier for the doctors to operate on me. And I thought the reason I was taller than Futaba-san was probably because I was actually a year older than her.

The truth was, I liked Futaba-san. Her cheerfulness, her vibrant personality, her face, everything about her fit me to a tee.

"Hehehe. I might be this small and cute now, but you'd better believe that I'm going to shoot up anytime now. That's how it is in my family. Even my mother was like that."

"Really?"

But the thing I liked most was when she called out my name.

"Ichigo-san, Ichigo-san."

That gentle, enveloping voice seemed to overlap with another I could only vaguely remember.

Could this too be deja-vu? A voice that had appeared countless times during my dreams.

The voice that whispered, "Ichigo-san, Ichigo-san," sounded like Futaba-san's, only more ephemeral and heartrending. It sounded so sorrowful that I always thought I should reply, but I could never open my mouth. Nor did I know what that person's face looked like.

I wasn't certain of just when exactly I had had this particular dream. Whether it was during my ten month coma, or some time after I had regained consciousness. Either way, it was definitely some time after the accident.

The dreams all seemed so similar that I started to wonder if they were, in actual fact, reality. My working theory was that someone came and talked to me while I lay comatose.

However, none of my friends from middle-school had a voice that sounded like that. I entertained the possibility that it had been Futaba-san, but quickly discarded it. I went to a different middle-school and passed the entrance exam to join Lillian's high-school, whereas Futaba-san graduated from Lillian's middle-school, so there was no possible intersection in our lives prior to the start of high-school. And since I was repeating first-year, I'd be a year older than Futaba-san.

"Hey, did any of my friends come and visit while I was in hospital?"

I asked my mother when I returned home.

"… Friends? You mean Miko-chan and Hiro-chan?"

The names listed were my two closest friends from middle-school.

"Not them."

"I don't know any other friends of yours."

"I suppose so – ?"

The accident happened on the day of the entrance ceremony last year, as I was making my way home from school.

"I guess I wouldn't have had any time to make friends at Lillian's high-school, right?"

I looked to my mother for confirmation.

"Th, that's right."

For some reason, she looked away before continuing.

"But I don't really know."

The way she said that sounded somehow wrong. As though she may have been hiding something. She'd been wiping the same spot on the table for some time now.

"Why are you asking about this, Ichigo?"

"Oh, no reason."

Getting information out of someone who was trying to hide it would probably be difficult. I decided to stop in at the hospital on the way home from school tomorrow, and ask one of the nurses from the ward I'd stayed in about it.

"Oh … ? There was?"

It was much easier getting information out of someone who wasn't trying to keep a secret.

"Yeah, there was. She wore the same kind of uniform that you've got on now. She came to visit you every day, more or less."

The friendly nurse said, full of confidence.

"Every day … ?"

"Yep. She was a nice, cheerful kid. She didn't know if you could hear her or not, but she'd talk to you about school. Things that happened in class, the teachers lame puns, things like that."

"– Ohh"

"Come to think of it, she stopped coming just before the summer holidays. I wonder why that was."

My poor friend, obliterated from my memory. I nervously asked:

"… This girl, what did she look like?"

"Let's see. She was short, a bit chubby, and had pimples all over her face."

No matter how I looked at it, those features belonged to Futaba-san.

* *

What did this mean? Was it a coincidental resemblance? Or was that just the type of person I liked. It was too painful to think that, like me, Futaba-san was repeating first year, parting ways with her many friends from middle-school.

At the very least, there were now no doubts as to whether or not that person really existed. She wore a Lillian's school uniform and told stories about her daily life while I slept.

Most of the deja-vu I felt could then be put down to me reliving the experiences that she had told me about, rather then remaining as some kind of mystery.

So then, who on earth was that girl? And would someone I'd only met at last year's entrance ceremony really come and visit me in hospital every day?

I didn't know.

Because at the time I'd slept on, oblivious to it all.

Making no progress, I questioned my mother. Surprised by this, she confessed.

"It seemed like you did make a friend at the entrance ceremony. She'd often come to the hospital. But then I said to her, "Don't come here any more." I didn't see her again after that. I'm sorry, Ichigo. I wasn't thinking straight back then."

According to my mother, we'd hit it off at the entrance ceremony and left school together. She'd been there at the scene of the accident and ridden with me in the ambulance to the hospital. Then she'd visited me every day. At first my mother had been grateful, but it soon became too painful for her to see that healthy young girl. Watching that girl rapidly mature while her own daughter lay comatose was just too much for her to bear.

"It's okay, I understand."

I wasn't looking to condemn my mother. It must have been a painful, heart-breaking struggle for the people around me during the ten months that I spent asleep.

"Really?"

Despite being classmates only for a day, there was someone that I had become good friends with. For some reason I felt this warm, flushed sensation.

* * *

Then one day I happened to see Futaba-san talking to an older-looking student in the hallway.

But that wasn't all. The scene made my heart hammer wildly, even though I thought I was no longer capable of being perturbed.

In the presence of this affectionate and friendly pair I could neither move forwards nor escape backwards, so stood frozen to the spot.

Noticing my gaze, the older student said, "See you," to Futaba-san then bowed quickly to me and left. She was a pretty girl – tall and slender, with long hair.

"That person just now, is she your onee-sama?"

My voice trembled as I asked Futaba-san this question. Deep within my heart I wanted her to deny it.

Lillian's Girls Academy high school has this unusual tradition, called the soeur system, wherein an older student will take a younger student as her petit soeur and guide her through school life. The one-on-one nature of this system builds an intimate relationship between the two soeurs.

"You got it. As usual, Ichigo-san."

Because of my regular deja-vu, Futaba-san considered me someone with keen instincts and so readily admitted their relationship.

"She's very pretty."

"Really? You think so? I think she is too."

Futaba-san smiled triumphantly. She seemed to be quite proud of her onee-sama.

I didn't ask any of the normal follow-up questions, like "What's her name?" or "How did you meet?" I felt that if I said anything then it would just alert Futaba-san to the disturbance in my heart.

(Disturbance … ?)

I swiftly reviewed what had happened.

What was I disturbed by? Was I worried that Futaba-san would become more distant, now that she had found an onee-sama?

(Is an onee-sama really necessary? Even though we're the same age, couldn't we be that close?)

A voice cried out within my heart. But it wasn't my current voice.

Deja-vu? – No, something different.

At some time in the past, I had definitely said those words to somebody.

But who? I didn't know.

Perhaps to the person in my dreams, whose voice fleetingly called out, "Ichigo-san."

* * * *

A few days later, I accidentally ran into "Futaba-san's onee-sama" on the way home from school.

"Oh?"

She was standing in front of the statue of Maria-sama at the fork in the road, and had just finished praying. She smiled, looking a bit nervous, when she turned around and saw me there.

"You're Futaba's classmate – "

"That's right. Gokigenyou."

I somehow managed to give her the proper greeting. If she had just spent another ten seconds praying, I may have been able to run away.

"And Futaba? She's not with you?"

"No. She's trying out for a club today."

"Ahh, right, I remember her saying something about that. I think she only joined the basketball club because she wants to grow taller."

She put her hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle. My first impression of her was that she was quiet and neat, but perhaps she was a bit more lively than I had imagined.

"And you? You're not going to tryout for the basketball club too?"

"I'm not. I'm still recovering, so for the time being I'm not joining any clubs."

Futaba-san's onee-sama's response was merely to nod her head and say, "I see." She didn't ask what illness I had, or how long I had been sick.

"Well, since neither of us are in any clubs, we should try to get along on the way home."

Futaba-san's onee-sama said, then held my hand and started to walk off. I felt deeply guilty for what I was doing to Futaba-san, but I didn't let go of her hand.

At that moment I was enveloped in a flash of dazzling light.

Click. The sound of a shutter reached my ears at about the same time.

"Pardon me. It was a beautiful scene."

Standing there was Takeshima Tsutako-san, from the photography club. No, that's not right, I should refer to her as Tsutako-sama since she's now my senior by one year.

"Are you two soeurs?"

"My, that would be nice. But unfortunately it's incorrect."

Futaba-san's onee-sama giggled once more. Even though they were in the same year, it looked like they were only passing acquaintances.

"Oh?"

Tsutako-sama mumbled. She had an odd look on her face when she lowered the camera.

"Is this deja-vu?"

"Huh?"

"I feel like I've seen this exact same scene before."

I was shocked.

Because just now I had felt the same way.

Tsutako-sama with her camera out, asking us:

Are you two soeurs?

But, that's probably what I should expect from my memory.

I couldn't say when, or to who, it had happened.

(My, that would be nice. But unfortunately it's incorrect.)

I didn't know. My mind was in uproar.

The light of the sun setting in the west sparkled off the new leaves.

"Well, you take lots of photographs of students, Tsutako-san. So you've probably seen something like this before."

Futaba-san's onee-sama said. But that wasn't an outright negation. So I may still have been remembering this. Surely there must have been someone that Tsutako-sama had asked this question of, immediately after taking their picture.

My eagle-eyes soon found proof of that, both easily and regrettably.

After parting company with Tsutako-sama we made our way to the bus stop in front of the main gates. As we were getting on the bus that would take us to M station, I caught a glimpse inside Futaba-san's onee-sama's purse. It was only for a moment, but there was definitely a folded photo of two young women wearing the Lillian's high school uniform in there.

One of the pair looked like Futaba-san. I couldn't make out the other one all that well, but the only sensible explanation was that it was the owner of the purse.

There was nothing unusual about Futaba-san and her onee-sama both appearing in a photo together. After all, they were soeurs.

Even so, I was not amused. I wanted to tear that photo in half and wedge myself in between them.

But I still wasn't sure who I was feeling jealous of. Futaba-san? Or Futaba-san's onee-sama?

"You're not a member of any clubs?"

I asked, as we rode the train away from M station.

I couldn't get the photograph out of my head, but I figured it was more constructive to try and find an easier topic of conversation than to endlessly stew on the negatives.

"Yeah."

That's what she'd said earlier and it looked like she was sticking to it. As she grabbed the handrail near the door, Futaba-san's onee-sama smiled and said, "It just wasn't destined to be."

"But, well, didn't you join the basketball club – ?"

Even though the words coming out of my mouth were mine, I lost my composure.

"Huh?"

Futaba-san's onee-sama seemed puzzled too.

"Ah –, umm, since Futaba-san's a member of the basketball club. That must have been what I was thinking."

There were plenty of examples of juniors and seniors in the same club becoming soeurs. So I thought that Futaba-san had joined the basketball club because she was looking for a soeur. And that's how they would have met.

"That's how I felt when I first entered high-school, but somehow I lost that chance. And that's how things are now."

This time around I couldn't say it, but in my heart I asked, "Because of me?" Because of me, Futaba-san's onee-sama hadn't joined the basketball club. I didn't fully understand what it meant, but if I could only believe it then perhaps I could remember it.

(But.)

Why would it be because of me?

I passed through the ticket gate and out of the station. Naturally, Futaba-san's onee-sama remained by my side.

Right.

I knew she got off at the same station that I did. No, wait, that was Futaba-san. Once again, my mind was throw into chaos.

At some point I had walked along this road with her. But that can't be right. It must have been with Futaba-san.

I felt dizzy. I crouched down alongside the bus terminal.

"What's the matter?"

Even though she was probably standing right beside me, Futaba-san's onee-sama's voice seemed to come from a long way away.

"My head hurts."

"Should I call an ambulance?"

An ambulance.

I froze.

The red, flashing lights, the ear-splitting siren. The disturbance amongst the commuters.

This wasn't deja-vu. This was my memory of the past.

I remembered.

I'd been standing there, aimlessly.

There, that was the spot. In front of the bus terminal, right by that crossing. That was where I got into an argument with Kazue-san.

"She said, "Do you think it's wrong to join a club just because you want an onee-sama?""

I mumbled to myself. The words that had been shouted at this location, one year ago.

(Is an onee-sama really necessary? Even though we're the same age, couldn't we be that close?)

Back then, I couldn't stand the thought of Kazue-san being closer to someone else than she was to me. Even though we'd only known each other for a few hours, I adored Kazue-san. I felt like we were destined to meet. I wanted to believe that Kazue-san felt the same way I did.

(Ichigo-san is Ichigo-san. Even if I have an onee-sama, our friendship won't change.)

(That's enough.)

I shook Kazue-san off, and ran away. I don't remember what color the lights were in front of me. I hadn't had time to look around. I just wanted to run until I was somewhere Kazue-san couldn't see me.

(Watch out!)

Somebody shouted out. I looked around, and there was a truck right in front of me. In the next instant I was flung through the air for a couple of metres. I remained like that for ten months, without opening my eyes.

"Watch out!"

Somebody shouted out. I looked around, and I had stepped out onto the pedestrian crossing. Panic gripped me and I started to run.

The pedestrian crossing light was red. I looked to my right, and a car was right there.

Deja-vu.

I froze and couldn't save myself. All I had to do was take a step backwards, but I wasn't even able to do that.

(It's no use.)

I closed my eyes for a moment and was dragged backwards by an enormous force on my right arm. I opened my eyes in time to see a station wagon drive past. I heard the driver shout out, "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" as we landed on our butts.

We? – that's right, I had been saved by Futaba-san's onee-sama.

"… Thank God. I made it in time, this time around."

"Kazue-san … ?"

"Ah, you've remembered. Ichigo-san."

The other girl laughed, using her arms to raise her upper body off the sidewalk.

"But, you were … "

The Kazue-san I remembered was tiny, plump and covered in acne – the spitting image of Futaba-san. But the voice that called out "Ichigo-san" sounded far closer to Kazue-san's than Futaba-san's. The voice that came to me in my dreams.

"Looks like I was able to reach you thanks to how much I've grown in the last year."

Kazue-san playfully stuck her tongue out at me, and I recklessly embraced her.

The happy music of the traffic lights reached my ears. Even though the lights had turned green, and even after they turned red, I kept embracing Kazue-san.

(We've finally met.)

Those memories were so precious to me that I had buried them deep, deep inside.

I was able to reclaim them now.

* * * * *

"What are you two doing?"

After hearing the music of the traffic lights play for the third time, a voice called out to us from above and we both looked up.

"Lillian's students, being an obstacle to pedestrians. It's indecent, troublesome."

For some strange reason, Futaba-san was standing there.

Kazue-san and I had been embracing, oblivious to the people around us, but we hurriedly let go of each other and stood up. We'd been stuck together tightly as though we were opposite magnetic poles, but now we acted as though we were both the same pole.

"What happened to your tryout for the basketball club?"

Futaba-san replied coldly to this question which tried to sweep things under the rug.

"There were a lot of people wanting to join, so all we did was put our names down on the sign-up sheet."

It goes without saying, but Futaba-san wasn't in a good mood. Her onee-sama and her best friend had been embracing each other. It wasn't the sort of thing you could just ignore.

At any rate, we were just getting in the way where we were, so we went back into the station and sat down beside each other on one of the benches. Kazue-san, Futaba-san, then me.

What should I do? What should I say? I hung my head in shame, but could think of nothing. It was Futaba-san who was the first to speak, turning to Kazue-san.

"Onee-chan, don't accost my friend."

"O, onee-chan?"

Add to that her assertive manner of speaking. Is that really how she should be addressing her onee-sama? I had a bad feeling about this, and turned to look at them.

"Why are you so surprised? I thought you knew that she was my onee-chan."

"Huh?"

I knew? I fervently searched my memory. After my first reunion with Kazue-san, when I didn't know that she was Kazue-san, I remembered asking Futaba-san:

(That person just now, is she your onee-sama?)

(You got it. As usual, Ichigo-san.)

"Ahh – !"

That's what she meant.

"You mean, she's really your older sister!?"

"That's right."

Sitting next to each other, the overall impression they gave was completely different. But the individual parts of their faces looked exactly the same. More than that, Futaba-san could have been the twin of the Kazue-san from one year ago, which provided more proof of their relationship than mere words could have.

"Ah … "

Now that I thought about it, Kazue-san's surname was also 'Suzuki.' We'd become good friends a year ago because we were seated one row apart. Exactly the same as Futaba-san and I, this year.

"I thought you sounded jealous when you asked about Ichigo-san at home, onee-chan. So that's how it is."

"That's how what is?"

"Well, you want to be her soeur, don't you?"

"Soeur?"

Instinctively, Kazue-san and I looked at each other.

"It's preposterous that we'd become soeurs. Because I – "

I waved both my arms, denying this. Having just become reacquainted with Kazue-san after a whole year, I hadn't even entertained this outrageous notion.

However.

"Why don't we become soeurs?"

The voice came softly from the other side of Futaba-san.

"Huh?"

"After all, I'm a second-year and you're a first-year, so we fulfill all the requirements, right? And I want to have that kind of relationship with you once more."

Kazue-san took her purse out of her pocket, opened it up and held it out to us as though she were showing her license.

Inside was the two-shot photograph that I had seen earlier. But now I understood. The girl that looked like Futaba-san was Kazue-san, one year earlier, and standing beside her, smiling happily, was me.

"Wah, it's how you used to look, onee-chan, and Ichigo-san. What's the meaning of this?"

Not knowing the circumstances, Futaba-san was completely taken aback. But after we explained it to her, she understood.

"Hmm. So if you hadn't been in an accident, Ichigo-san, then I would have been your petit soeur."

She declared definitively. Where did this self-confidence of hers come from?

"But, well, I guess I'm okay with it being onee-chan."

Futaba-san took a deep breath, smiled and said:

"Ichigo-san is Ichigo-san. Even if she has an onee-sama, our friendship won't change."

Was this deja-vu?

– I'd definitely heard that line somewhere before.

Translator's Notes

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