Aura: Koga Maryuin’s Final Battle

“Ahahah, wait for me, witch!”
“Ichirou, over here, over here~.”
The witch and I, at the school at night (for some reason, the hallway had become a field of flowers), our hands were linked as we were in the midst of fleeing from the guardian. A beautiful meeting straight out of a painting, an adventure to set one’s heart on edge, a dramatic escape… and who could forget the wonderful memory of that cosplay witch destroying my life the next morning!
“AAaaaah!”
Unable to endure the recapitulation of my fear, I opened my eyes with a violent convulsion. The relief only lasted an instant, the sadness following soon behind.
“… Urgh… dammit… dammit all…”
Burying my face in the pillow, I sobbed sorrowfully in shame. How pathetic, how embarrassing.
In the time it took for the peculiar scent to alert me I wasn’t at home but the infirmary, I wept some more.
“The infirmary… I see… was it all a dream?”
“Nah, all real.”
So spoke the large two chesticles resting on the edge of the bed.
“What a surreal reality.”
No, that’s wrong. The one who spoke was the owner of that chest.
A woman in a lab coat. By my estimation, somewhere in her early twenties. Her fluffy-looking short perm was dyed a clean blonde. Glasses that were supposed to be a symbol of intellect for some reason granted her a mischievous impression.
“What are you doing here?”
“Seeing how you hold up. I’m the nurse.”
Standing on her knees, she leaning her body forward so her weight rested on the bed.
The bottom half of the frame formed by her folded arms was filled with bust. Almost like a relief. I could declare with certainty that there was no conceivable way those puppies were any lower than ninety. The impact of seeing them up lose could practically be considered violence. To the extent of what I could glean from the silhouette, not a trace of brassiere. While she must have had on a camisole or something, the trouble came in the fact that her chest held a fierce impetus to be freed from its oppression.
“You were watching? The whole time?”
“Yeah, had nothing better to do. I had to wipe your drool too.”
I hurriedly wiped my mouth.
“Don’t you have a job to do?”
“Yes, and I’m doing it. I was examining a student who suddenly fainted.”
“Did I… faint?”
Admittedly, I did have a vague understanding I wasn’t dreaming.
“I heard you fell unconscious in class. You were carried over here, and it’s around fifth period right now. They said you didn’t hit anything, so I let you get some rest. Do you want me to contact your parents?”
“No, I’m not hurting anywhere… fifth period?” I was out way too long.
“Did you stay up late last night or something?”
“Ah, right…”
I was feeling so exhilarated last night, I couldn’t get to sleep.
“If you can stand, come over here for a bit.”
The school nurse called me over to a steel desk.
It did seem she had to write something up in regards to any student brought in.
My name, my class, I gave a simple explanation of the circumstances.
I tried to play off the witch issue, but she bit on.
“… I don’t get how a girl you know coming to see you put you in a state of shock. I do recall an incident where an outsider marched into school this morning, but why did that knock you out?”
If I seriously was a quick wit, I’d have been able to redirect the conversation, but in the end, it was a false front. Unable to think of any clever excuse, I covered up only the events of last night, and honestly divulged the rest.
“Hmm. So in short, she came all dressed in cosplay.”
“Yes. When everyone learned that I knew her… I knew they might think we’re one and the same, err…” I was infected.
“I get you, I get you. This is an important time for you. Of course, you’d like to avoid anything crazy.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Yeaaah, got it. I’ll process it so it doesn’t become too big of a deal, okay? You can get back to class. If you start feeling ill, you can take off in the middle of lessons, just come and talk to me.”
Just as I’d given my thanks and was about to vacate the infirmary, the sleeve of my uniform caught on a small seal case on the table, dropping it onto the floor. The lid came off spilling its contents.
“Sorry, I’ll get that.”
“Could you?”
When I burrowed under the desk, the corner of my eye caught a glance up her skirt. The forbidden glimpse just beyond the indecent huddled flesh of her inner thighs deformed by her sitting posture. The chamber of secrets (don’t sue me). Why was she barefoot, anyway? Seriously, why was she barefoot? Would you call this feeling love… heck no, it’s just lust. It did seem I was becoming a nervous wreck.
Severing all worldly desires, I devoted my undivided attention to the search.
“Found it. What is this anyway?”
“You can’t have it.”
“… I never said I wanted it.”
To explain it in short, it was a metallic stick. Around the size of a human finger.
While it was decorated, yearly wear had shallowed out the engravings and I couldn’t make out what it was supposed to be.
“It’s used as a good luck charm. They’re famous around these parts- for girls, specifically. I got it from a kid who frequents the infirmary.”
“Hmmm.”
A good luck charm was a sort of spell, so along that vein it was a ritual ornament, in a sense. A real one.
“Then I’ll be getting back. I’ve got to at least attend sixth period.”
The bell for sixth period chimed.
“Nyahaha, now that’s unfortunate.”
Her intonation made it out as completely someone else’s business. I lost all motivation to get back to class.

I returned after class. I ate some leftovers from the nurse’s lunch and killed some time. Homeroom had already ended to give way to blank nothingness.
As I approached the classroom, my anxiety multiplied.
Just what sort of evaluation had they handed down upon me? There was no way my shocking drama with the cosplay woman hadn’t become a subject of conversation.
Settling my resolve, I stepped into the classroom. The remaining students looked at me at once.
Two girls I’d never spoken to before, also around six boys. Kawai and Kobayashi were there as well, talking with poor sandwich Nakamura. All eyes looking at me seemed to want to say something, but no one actually spoke up. The class’s sole delinquent alone played it apathetic, reading some magazine to himself.
Takahashi‘s group was nowhere to be seen.
Considering the circumstances, that was to be expected.
For now, I just wanted to know what happened after that. When I turned towards Kawai and the others, they awkwardly took their eyes off of me. With transparent bearing, their conversation restarted. Mn, was a barrier just erected?
“Still, Nakamura, you really have it hard.”
“Right, right, can’t help but laugh sometimes. Got to look forward to the next seating change.”
“You guys are still better off. I’m right by the teacher’s desk.”
Regardless of the fact I was nearby, the talk continued as if I wasn’t there. The chill spreading from my spin across my body numbed me to the tips of my finger.
No doubt about it. These three were emitting a ‘don’t talk to me’ aura.
But why? I didn’t even have to think about it. There was only one possible reason. I got that part, but why was the perpetrator of this mess nowhere to be seen? At the end of my mulling, I decided it was better than doing nothing, and tried talking to Kawai.
“Hey, about that woman from this morning. Do you know where she—”
“Satou, the teacher said he wanted you to go to the student counseling room when you got back.”
Kobayashi’s response could be expressed as flat-out rejection. I could no longer follow up my words. Should I ask “Why so cold, aren’t we friends”? The answer is no. That what you should never do ay any costs.
That exchange was plenty to tell there was no present possibility of reconciliation. While my unsteady footing seemed hopeless, if I clung on any further, I would be forcing them to come out with the definitive words.
Those definitive words would be my end. That was the sort of space school was. That’s why whatever could be left ambiguous should be kept ambiguous. The power to read the mood is indispensable.
“Got it, thanks.”
A swift retreat. I could just barely hear, “We’ve grown a little distant, but we can still talk some.” I successfully maintained the front lines. I felt like crying.
Just as I’d prepared to be off and was leaving the classroom, I crashed into one of my classmates.
Well maintained hair, straight and long. He was tall, and a looker as far as I could tell. But for some reason, he was a weirdo who insisted to be the only one wearing a white uniform: I had thoroughly avoided all conversation with him.
“Sorry.”
I quickly apologized to be on my way, but for once in a blue moon, he actually spoke up to me.
“Satou Ichirou.”
“Me?”
“A storm is coming.”
“… You think it’s going to rain.”
“Fufufu, the day you understand is not long to come. Fwahahahahah!”
He entered the classroom with a grand laugh. That theatrical attitude, it grate against my old wounds.