Volume 4—Chapter 88: The First Surges (1)
Hello there, people of the internet!!
This is my first time writing a blog. Honestly, I’m not sure if anyone will even find this. Technically, it’s public, but this blogsite isn’t exactly popular. Unless someone is specifically digging around for it, this little corner of the web is practically invisible. So… I guess that makes it kind of private, or maybe “exclusive” to the rare souls who stumble across it.
Oh wait… if you type my name into a search engine, you might actually land here.
Who am I? Seriously, can’t you read the URL?
It’s Irana. Miyazaki Irana.
Now that I’ve written my name out, maybe I should do a proper introduction, since it’s the first post. But… nah. Don’t feel like it.
Anyway, let’s talk about something more interesting. Have you ever had one of those days when you’re genuinely happy to go to school… then bam, PE class shows up to ruin it?
What? You’re saying it’s the opposite for you? That PE is the fun part, and the math class is the nightmare? How is that even possible?
Well, whatever. The point is, my problem isn’t that I’m unathletic. It’s not like I can’t keep up. It’s just… the activity we’re doing this time.
“Irana, what are you staring at your phone for with such a serious face?” A sudden voice called out behind me.
“Woah… Viola, you scared me,” I said, jolting a little.
She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “Hmm… suspicious. But no time to scrutinise you. We need to move fast and get changed.”
“Right… but…” I hesitated.
Viola tilted her head. “I don’t get why you hate swimming class so much. Swimming is fun, you know?”
I sighed. Of course, I know it’s fun. I actually like swimming. But what I don’t like is the outfit. The school swimsuit.
That’s the real reason. It isn’t the pool, the water, or even the exercise. It’s that dark-blue, skin-tight, regulation swimsuit. I can’t bring myself to feel comfortable wearing something like that.
“Geez, can you move already?” Viola urged, already halfway to the hallway.
“Fine…” I sighed, dragging my feet a little. Then I turned toward the desk near the window. “Onee-chan, let’s go change,” I called.
But she did not move.
“Huh? Onee-chan?”
Onee-chan was resting her head on the desk, arms folded, her hair falling across her face. For a moment, I thought she was just spacing out, but then she let out a weak voice.
“I hear you, Irana… It’s just… I don’t feel okay for some reason.”
“Viola!! Quick, Onee-chan is sick!”
Viola spun around, startled. “Huh? Aria is sick? That’s rare…” She hurried back to us, her face changing from annoyance to worry.
I clenched my fists. I knew, right? Even in my earliest memories, I could not recall Onee-chan ever getting sick. She was always the strong one.
Now that I thought about it, she had been acting down ever since her outing with Yuuji. At the time, I brushed it off. I was too wrapped up in my own exhaustion, drained after that ridiculous streaming stunt she roped me into. I had planned to quit after an hour, but then Mom came home. Mom, who insisted Aria stream in the first place, suddenly got excited seeing me streaming instead of Onee-chan. She forced me to keep going, not straightforwardly; it was like a devil whispering to me. I forgot how much time had passed.
But that’s not an excuse. That’s not a reason for me to ignore Onee-chan’s health.
“Onee-chan, I’ll bring you to the infirmary!” I blurted, already trying to lift her arm over my shoulder.
“Infirmary? What’s that?” Onee-chan muttered, her voice strangely distant, almost like she was half-asleep.
Panic surged through me. “Viola, help me! Onee-chan’s condition is really bad!”
“Got it!!” Viola rushed to my side without hesitation, slipping under Aria’s other arm to support her weight.
“Just teleport…” I whispered urgently, looking at Viola.
She froze for a split second, eyes widening, then quickly covered my mouth with her hand. “Are you crazy? You can’t reveal my power in front of Aria!” she hissed in a low whisper.
I pried her hand off and leaned close, whispering back, “Don’t worry, she’s not in her right mind right now. She won’t notice.”
Viola bit her lip, torn between hesitation and urgency. Aria’s body felt heavy between us, her breathing shallow, her head swaying as if the world itself was slipping away from her.
“Please, Viola,” I said, my voice cracking. “We don’t have time to walk.”
“Geez, you’re such a drama queen…” Viola muttered, rolling her eyes.
Even though she said that, she still complied, and in an instant, the scenery blurred. The classroom vanished, replaced by the neat white walls and faint antiseptic smell of the infirmary.
“What the hell are you thinking, teleporting straight into the infirmary with Aria?” The one waiting for us, arms crossed, was none other than Elizabeth-sensei.
“It was Irana who insisted…” Viola quickly said, tilting her chin toward me.
That stung more than I expected. Sure, it was true, but the way she tossed the blame at me so casually still hurt.
“Is she conscious?” Elizabeth-sensei asked, already stepping closer to Onee-chan.
“Barely…” I answered, glancing at Onee-chan’s pale face.
Elizabeth let out a sigh that carried both irritation and fatigue. “This is a disaster. First, you let that girl slip away, and now this?” Her sharp eyes cut toward Viola.
“That girl?” I echoed, completely lost.
“Yesterday,” Elizabeth-sensei said, her tone clipped, “the transfer student, Caroline, was tailing Aria at the central mall.”
“That girl? I thought she was just some spoiled rich kid,” I said, still confused.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. She’s an unregistered esper…Worse part, she can manipulate time. Viola let her escape because of her stupid stunts.” Her words landed heavily, then she suddenly paused. Her gaze shifted, narrowing on Onee-chan.
“And now, you use your powers openly in front of…” She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she just looked at Onee-chan with an expression I couldn’t read. Was it fear? Disgust? Contempt? Maybe all of them at once. What I did realise, for the first time, was that Elizabeth-sensei did not like Onee-chan.
She clicked her tongue and straightened up. “Forget it. With luck, she won’t remember any of this. Lay her down and let her rest. I’ll handle the aftermath, whatever it turns out to be.” Her words were bitter, and then she was gone, walking out without another glance.
The room fell quiet except for the faint hum of the infirmary lights. I stood there, not sure how to feel, the weight of her words pressing down on me.
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