Parasite in Love

Kousaka first got a girlfriend in autumn when he was 19. He was introduced to a girl two years his elder by a not-particularly-friendly high school acquaintance, and by going with the flow, they started dating. Her appearance, personality, hobbies, skills, you name it, were completely average. He couldn't even remember her face very well now. All that was left in his memories was that she had short hair, and her face dimpled when she smiled.

Before they started their acquaintance, Kousaka decided to be frank about his cleaning habits. He explained that it was serious enough to impede regular life, but she just smiled and accepted it.

"That's okay. I'm kind of a clean freak myself, so I'm sure we'll get along."

It wasn't a lie, really. She was rather clean-loving. She always carried around various anti-bacteria products, washed her hands frequently, and took one or two - on days off, three - showers a day.

But compared to Kousaka, she really was nothing more than "clean-loving." It was just a strong attention to hygiene, and decisively different from the compulsions he had.

Her theory was that even the most fastidious person could get over most obstacles as long as they had trust. Kousaka insisted that no matter how much they might trust each other, if he "can't," he can't - but she rebutted that this simply meant there wasn't enough trust. She viewed the fact that as much as time passed, he wouldn't kiss her, much less hold hands, as proof of insufficient love. While it was true there was a lack of love, she wouldn't lend an ear as he tried to make her understand the more fundamental problem.

Their semi-similar personalities made for calamity. She was convinced she understood fastidiousness, and had a kind of pride in her own love of cleanliness. The actions of Kousaka's that went beyond her understanding - washing change after getting home, discarding pens he lent to others, taking a day off class just because of a light drizzle - she decided for herself that these arose not from a fear of the unclean, but a different mental cause.

She wasn't a bad person, but she had a fatal lack of imagination. It was a miracle their relationship even lasted three months. After breaking up with her, he didn't find anyone new. His first and last lover. Well, then again, maybe there wasn't any love there at all.

Hijiri Sanagi visited the room at 2 PM. The intercom sounded, followed by a sound like the door was being kicked down. He unlocked the door and opened it to find Sanagi standing there with her hands in her cardigan's pockets, pursing her lips with displeasure.

"You should leave it unlocked. You want the others to see me come in?"

"My bad," Kousaka apologized.

"I assume you've got the money?"

He handed Sanagi an envelope, and she opened it and checked it on the spot. Once certain the specified amount was inside, she put it back and placed it in her bag.

"As promised, I'll be your friend." Sanagi grinned. "Let's get along."

"Yes, let's," Kousaka politely replied. "That aside, before you come in the room, there's one thing I want to ask..."

He was going to ask her to wait so he could get wet wipes to at least clean her exposed skin with, but it was too late. She threw off her loafers, ignored the slippers Kousaka prepared for her, went into the living room, and sat down on the bed like it was her own. Kousaka nearly shrieked.

"Wait, please, not the bed, okay?", Kousaka begged, pointing to his work chair. "If you're going to sit, use that."

"Don't wanna."

Kousaka's pleas were in vain, and Sanagi lied face-down on the bed, put a pillow under her chin, and began to read a book from her bag. Kousaka cradled his head. This is the worst. He'd have to wash those sheets and the pillow cover once she left.

"Incidentally, how long do you plan on staying here?"

"About two hours," Sanagi answered without looking up from her book.

"Err... and what should I do during that time?"

"Don't ask me. Make a computer virus or something?"

Then Sanagi put on headphones and started listening to music. She had no intent whatsoever of striking up communication with Kousaka.

Kousaka sat in the work chair, turned away from the bed, and opened a book he'd been reading. He wasn't in the mood for reading, but he didn't know what else to do. A few pages in, he heard the sound of a lighter clicking behind him. He turned around to see Sanagi trying to light a cigarette.

"No cigarettes," he warned, standing up in a hurry to speak into her ear. "Please, just endure it while you're in this room."

"...Shaddup."

Sanagi reluctantly shut the lighter and put the cigarette in her mouth back in the case. Kousaka sighed with relief. Still, what a thing to do to put back a cigarette she'd already put in her mouth. Didn't she find that filthy? Well, surely someone with such hygiene attitudes wouldn't smoke in the first place.

After being informed of the no-smoking rules, Sanagi obediently read on the bed. Kousaka wondered what kind of book she was reading and tried to look, but the writing was too small to tell, and a leather cover obscured the front of the book.

Kousaka opened his book again. But he couldn't focus on the words, and staring at the blank space on the page, began to think about things unrelated to the book's contents.

Ultimately, what did that Izumi person hire me for? What kind of role was he expecting me to fill for Sanagi? Izumi was saying he "wanted me to look after a kid." And then said to "be friends with Hijiri Sanagi." And it seemed she didn't diligently attend school much at all. From all of these, maybe it was proper to assume that my intended role was "someone who, as a friend, can help the school-skipping Hijiri Sanagi return to school."

But then, Izumi's use of the word "suitable" made me wonder. I can't imagine I'd be considered "suitable" if what you want is someone who can guide a delinquent student. Though granted, I might be a superb bad example.

Or maybe I should look at it more simply than that. Maybe Hijiri Sanagi's parents indulge her, silently consenting to her skipping school, but are hiring people to be friends so she doesn't get bored. In that case, the "suitability" would mean being friends who are unsuited to society like her. Surprisingly, this felt closest to the truth.

But in any event, putting an underage girl in the care of a 27-year-old man was certainly not proper. Did Izumi or Sanagi's parents understand that she was in my room?, Kousaka wondered. Perhaps Izumi chose me to be a friend because he knew my cleanliness guaranteed he wouldn't even touch a woman? If so, his judgement was extremely apt. I couldn't lay a finger on Hijiri Sanagi even if I was asked to. Maybe that could be considered suitability, too.

After about an hour, Sanagi took off her headphones, and Kousaka asked a question, having waited for her to do so.

"Hey, Hijiri-chan, what role do you think Izumi wants me to fill?"

"Who knows. Maybe he thinks you could help me rehabilitate?", Sanagi said, turning over on the bed. "Also, don't ever say "Hijiri-chan." It's gross."

"I was asked to look after you, but what exactly should I do for that?"

"Don't do anything," Sanagi spat coldly. "It's best to just keep fooling Izumi's eyes like this and wait until he gives up. Don't think I'm seriously going to try and be friends. It's impossible anyway."

"...Understood," Kousaka nodded. That seemed safest, like she said.

"Oh, but," she appended. "I guess I will trade contact info with you. If I don't, Izumi will find it unnatural."

Sanagi held out her smartphone. Kousaka took it, face twitching.

"Add yourself."

Kousaka followed the instruction and registered his number on her phone. He faintly expected it, but there were only three people in her address book. And those three numbers didn't even have names assigned to them, to boot. She didn't seem like the most sociable sort.

Once done, Kousaka quietly washed his hands with disinfectant. Who knows what's on other people's belongings. Especially things they use daily.

Once two hours had passed, Sanagi closed her book, put it in her bag, and left the room. Kousaka put the the sheets in the washing machine and went around cleaning everything, then showered for about an hour.

Sanagi had said "I'll come around 6 PM tomorrow." This is no joke, Kousaka grieved. At this rate, his holy grounds would be completely dirtied. Wasn't there some way to prevent contamination? His ideal would have been for Sanagi to take a quick shower and change into clean clothes before entering the living room, but it would unquestionably just annoy her to make such a request. Besides, it may have just caused unwanted misunderstandings.

In the end, he came up with no good ideas. The next day, and the day after, Sanagi spread filth around his room. She might have not had any ill intentions, but as a result, Kousaka became neurotic about it and couldn't sleep at night. His room was losing its function as a holy ground. Sanagi always lied in the middle of the bed, so he started sleeping in the corners. He nearly fell to the floor many times while getting accustomed to it, but eventually learned how to properly position himself.

Maybe if he just said the words "I'm a clean freak," Sanagi might have shown a little consideration. However, since breaking up with his girlfriend, Kousaka had never revealed it to anyone. Not only that, he took great efforts to not do anything compulsive where people were watching. His efforts were successful enough that at some of his workplaces, there were people who didn't realize he had any such disorder. They merely thought of him as a person who was often late to work and bad at socializing.

"If my being a clean freak was common knowledge, then maybe I would have some small relief from my difficulties" - such thoughts never crossed his mind. But it wasn't like it was selective obstinacy. People with obsessive-compulsive disorders always try to keep such thoughts and actions hidden from others.

Being aware of your own abnormality is a feature of this disorder. Those who have it don't try to "make others understand." Because they acknowledge they won't be able to have people's understanding. But despite having that level of objectivity toward themselves, that doesn't mean they can stop their compulsions. Rational arguments are all but meaningless. Pharmacotherapy using SSRIs and exposure response prevention therapy are said to be effective treatments, but Kousaka tried them during college, and it only seemed to make things worse.

It was questionable whether Sanagi noticed his disorder or not. Sometimes she would smell the antiseptic scent and complain "Smells like an infirmary," but that was all.

Belying her appearance of silver hair and earrings, Hijiri Sanagi was a bookworm. She might not have had any interest in novels and poems, though, as she read nothing but technical books and science magazines. Once, she fell asleep with her book open, so Kousaka was able to sneak a peek inside. The book she was reading then was about parasitic diseases.

He later had more chances to peek at what she was reading, and found that 90% of the books Sanagi read were about parasites. It appeared she had an unparalleled interest in them.

Kousaka recalled a story from the Tsutsumi Chunagon Monogatari he'd studied in high school, The Lady Who Loved Insects. It was about a strange noble girl who was blessed with beauty, yet did not use cosmetics nor blacken her teeth, but just stared at caterpillars. It seemed a fitting nickname for this girl who was treated by Izumi overbearingly like a princess, and read nothing but books about parasites.

Silver hair, pierced ears, short skirts, cigarettes, and parasites. To Kousaka, they were all symbols of impurity, and he would consider Hijiri Sanagi a manifestation of all of them put together. Meanwhile, Sanagi had no interest in Kousaka from the start, and didn't expect anything from him beyond providing her a room to kill time in. Even though they were close together, a tall, thick wall stood between them.

* ƒ𝘳𝗲𝑒𝒘𝐞𝚋𝚗𝐨v𝘦l.𝒄o𝐦

A week passed after he met Sanagi.

Usually, the intercom would sound, and Sanagi would open the door to come in immediately after, but today was different. Even once the intercom's echo faded, the door hadn't budged. Kousaka concluded that this visitor was not Sanagi.

He went to open the door, and found it was indeed Izumi. Once again, he wore a drab Chester coat over a worn suit. As usual, his hair was oily, and he had a beard resulting from neglecting shaving for two days or so.

Kousaka silently let Izumi inside and closed the door. Then he carefully passed by so as not to touch him, and turned away from the living room to face him.

"Seems you really hit it off with Hijiri Sanagi," Izumi commended with folded arms. "I didn't have any hope for you at all, but you've done pretty good, huh?"

"Thanks," Kousaka said bluntly. He figured it was wise to stay quiet about bribing her.

"I'd like to know for reference, just how did you approach her? I figure just making her feel comfortable must have been an ordeal."

"I just asked her to be my friend," Kousaka said, yawning. Due to days without sleep, his eyes were fogged over and his head was numb.

"And?"

"The end."

He furrowed his brow. "Hey now, you're kidding, right? Just that got Hijiri Sanagi to keep coming to your house?"

"What reason would I have to lie?" Kousaka feigned ignorance, and Izumi snorted.

"I dunno what trick you pulled, but it's a big deal. You may be a jobless criminal good-for-nothing, but you've got a knack for kidnapping young girls." He clapped mockingly for Kousaka.

"Well then, let's move on to your next mission."

Kousaka stared blankly, at a loss for words. Next mission? Was becoming friends with Sanagi not the end? Don't tell me that after this was done, there'd be another mission, and once that was done... on and on like that?

Izumi informed him.

"Find out Hijiri Sanagi's worries. Of course, I don't want you to force it out of her, but naturally get her to tell you."

"Worries?", Kousaka repeated to confirm. "Does she have such a thing?"

"Sure she does. Nobody's without worry. All the more true for a girl around her age. Worrying's like your job then."

"That may be true in a general sense, but..."

"That said, I don't want you to find out if her skin's been bad lately, or her lunulae are a little bigger than normal people's, or the creases on her left and right eyes are in different places - any trivial worries like that, there's no point. What you need to find out is the reason for her lack of attendance." 𝗳𝘳𝐞e𝙬𝙚𝚋𝗻𝚘𝚟𝗲l.𝑐𝑜ｍ

Kousaka thought for a moment, then asked. "Is it not simply that she finds school annoying, for instance?"

Izumi grinned, but it was a somehow aggressive-feeling grin.

"As I thought. You're so sensitive to your own pain, but have such dull senses for the pain of others. That's the kind of guy you are," he said with a cynical look at Kousaka. "So I'm gonna emphasize for you here, Hijiri Sanagi's more of a normal girl than you think. And if a normal girl's dressing in a way that's not normal and doing things that aren't normal, that means something non-normal is happening to her."

Izumi took a step toward Kousaka and spoke overbearingly.

"And I'll give you one more warning. If you try to fool me, or you hurt Hijiri Sanagi, it won't end at telling people about the virus. You might be driven into a situation more stressful than you've ever dealt with before. Beat that into your head."

Kousaka nodded meekly.

But just a few hours later, he would unintentionally hurt Hijiri Sanagi.

Once Izumi left, Sanagi appeared as if taking his place. She didn't even glance at Kousaka, the room's owner, lied down on the bed which had become her personal seat, bundled up the pillow to put under her chin, and opened a book. I feel like a ghost bound to this place, Kousaka thought. Maybe I'm the spirit of a man who killed himself in this room, and hasn't realized he's dead yet. Ownership had already changed over to Hijiri Sanagi, but she was mistaking me as a visitor. That was a rather pleasing idea.

However, he couldn't indulge in considering himself a ghost forever. Now, Kousaka had a mission to find out the reason why Sanagi wasn't attending school. He would have to somehow initiate a dialogue with her, skillfully get to the subject of school, and have her naturally reveal the reason.

While he thought about how he could break the subject, his gaze was unconsciously focused on Sanagi. She took off her headphones, looked up, and belligerently said "What? Is there something you want to say?"

"Nothing like that." Kousaka hurriedly averted his eyes, and gave an on-the-spot excuse. "Um, I noticed you're wearing that earring again today."

"Earring?"

"When I saw it before, I thought it was pretty. That's all, nothing else."

Sanagi blinked with suspicion. Then as if having forgotten about the earring's existence until just now, she gently touched her ear and felt it.

"Want to get a closer look?"

"...No, that's fine."

"I see." Sanagi put her headphones back on and returned to reading.

Her suggestion came as a surprise. Based on her usual attitude, the natural response would have been being ignored or disparaged.

Kousaka imagined. Maybe that blue flower-shaped earring has some special meaning to Sanagi. If someone complimented it, no matter who, it must have made her happy.

Truthfully, Kousaka didn't like earrings. Opening up holes in your body seemed unbelievable, and sticking something artificial in there seemed all too prone to bacteria. Did she take it out daily and disinfect it?

It wasn't only earrings; he had similar thoughts about wristwatches, smartphones, bags, glasses, and headphones. Even if you took daily showers, wouldn't it be pointless if the things you wore were dirty?

Kousaka turned his chair away from Sanagi, pulled himself together, and began to think how to ask about her worries. If he asked too directly, she might see through it and notice Izumi had put him up to it. How could I bring the conversation there naturally? I mean, I've never even had a regular chat with her.

Then Kousaka rethought it. There's no reason to do everything the way Izumi says. Moving from one lie to two was no big difference. I could be honest and tell Sanagi "Izumi gave me this instruction," discuss it with her, and pay to have her cooperation. Wasn't it that simple?

Kousaka stood up and said close to Sanagi's ear, "Sanagi, I wanted to talk about something."

"What is this this time?" She slid down her headphones and looked up at him.

"Izumi gave me a new instruction today. He told me to ask you the reason you aren't going to school in a natural way."

"...And?"

"Won't you help me out? You don't even have to tell me the truth. You can just fabricate a reason that'll convince Izumi."

Sanagi's response came after a significant delay. There was an irritating silence, like when trying to talk to a virtual assistant in a place with bad reception.

"He told you to ask in a natural way, right?" Sanagi turned her cheek away from Kousaka. "So why not ask me naturally?"

"I don't think I'll be able to do that, which is why I'm just asking. I'll give you suitable payment."

"I don't want to answer," Sanagi stated plainly.

"You can lie."

"I don't want to lie."

In other words, she didn't want to cooperate. Kousaka considered other things he could offer, but soon gave up and sat in his chair. There was no rush. Maybe she'd just gotten up on the wrong side of the bed today. Probing deeply now would just upset her. I'll ask another day, he thought.

It must have been the sleep deprivation; at some point, he fell asleep in his chair.

He felt something off about his shoulder. At first, he thought it was just an itch. But the feeling gradually became more solid. Something was poking Kousaka's shoulder. Soon, he realized it was someone's finger.

Someone's finger?

His hair stood up on end.

Kousaka acted reflexively. He batted away the hand poking his shoulder. When he did, he felt his overly-long index finger nail scratch the person's skin somewhere. He heard a small groan, which woke him up at once.

Sanagi's face was scrunched in pain, and she held a hand over her right cheek, scratched by Kousaka. When she removed her hand, he saw a wound about a centimeter long bleeding dark red blood. She slowly looked at the blood on her palm, then slowly looked toward Kousaka.

I did it again, Kousaka thought.

"...I was just going to say I was leaving," Sanagi said without inflection. "Did you hate me touching you that much?"

Kousaka hastily apologized, but Sanagi wouldn't hear it. With a scornful glare, she took her bag and left the room, slamming the door shut.

Kousaka just stood there for a while. The slamming sound of the door kept echoing deep within his ears. Then he remembered something, took off the bed sheets and pillow cover, went to the bathroom, and took off his clothes. He tossed them all in the washing machine, hit the switch, and took a shower.

She'll probably never come here again.

So he thought.

Kousaka couldn't speak about his obsessive cleanliness this late on. It had been a reaction he would demonstrate to anyone, not a special dislike of being touched by Sanagi. If he did honestly confess it to her, she might just take it as a poor excuse... but it would still be far better than not explaining anything. It was even possible that she would later see how it shed light on Kousaka's actions and behavior, and in time understand.

However, he had already let that chance slip by. It's all over now, Kousaka thought deeply. Izumi won't forgive me for hurting Sanagi both physically and emotionally.

After showering and returning to the living room, Kousaka came to a stop. He was too distraught to notice earlier, but there were a few bloodstains on the floor. They must have dripped off the wound on Sanagi's face. He squatted down and looked closely.

Since he considered other people a symbol of impurity, blood was a very detestable thing. Normally, he would have wiped it up without a second thought. However, for some reason, he felt as if these bloodstains should be left there. It wasn't quite as "punishment." He didn't quite understand it himself, but maybe the more appropriate term would be "commemoration," he thought.

He sat in his chair, staring endlessly at the stains. Then he thought, I shouldn't be doing this; I'll think about something more fun.

...Yes, like SilentNight, for instance. That worm has already scattered to all corners of the mobile network. Whatever happens to me now, likely no one will be able to stop the force of SilentNight. Even if Izumi goes running to a security firm right now, it's probably too late. On December 24th, the worm should definitely activate and render a large number of smartphones useless. The streets should be filled with people who can't meet up with their friends. He felt so comfortable picturing it.

Of course, it wouldn't just be a simple prank. While SilentNight was designed to make an exception that restored communications when an emergency number was called, there could be people whose lives were ruined by the effects of this worm. Even fatalities wouldn't be surprising. If his criminal acts were discovered, he would bear a heavy sin.

But do I care?, Kousaka harshly thought. There's hardly anything left for me to lose. He couldn't even find meager memories to cling onto.

For a few days afterward, Kousaka led an even more decadent life than before. He didn't even touch his computer anymore, sleeping in the corner of his bed and quietly waiting for judgement to be passed down on him. The only things he did were clean and do a series of washing rituals. He found eating a chore, not putting anything in his mouth but water and functional nutritional food. After four days, he ran out of food, so he only lived on water. And he left the blood that fell from Sanagi's cheek in its conspicuous location.

It wasn't the first time his disorder had caused injury to someone. He had made mistakes similar to this one many a time. There were too many minor incidents to count. He naturally came to be disliked by most people, but what was more painful was when he did things of the utmost rudeness to the occasional person who extended their hand cordially.

Their expressions when he wounded them had all burned themselves into Kousaka's mind, without exception. If it had just been a misunderstanding that angered them or made them hate him, he could cover his ears and hang his head. But the guilt of denying a simple gesture of kindness couldn't be rid of, not even by that superb doctor known as time.

Usually, Sanagi had left the room without a word when going home, so her trying to wake Kousaka up to say goodbye might have been a sign that she'd opened her heart to him after he complimented her earring. If that was the case, then he really had stomped all over her good will.

Just how long will I keep repeating this?, Kousaka wondered. "Someone might as well kill me off while I sleep," he tried saying aloud. That idea he voiced on a whim resounded in his mind, feeling perfectly right. No doubt this is what I really want, he felt.

In that case, what have I been living these 27 years for?

Maybe they were 27 years of looking for a way to die. I can't find a way to live, so I at least want to settle on how I'll die. If that theory is correct, then as long as I find a suitable way, I can move to carrying it out at any moment.

Kousaka had a crystal-clear image. He wakes up in a bed at a school infirmary. The room is dark, and totally silent. There are cloudy skies outside, and looking closely, he can see it's snowing. It doesn't look as if there's anyone but him here, but he can feel a sort of disturbance in the air from someone leaving a moment ago. Listening close, he hears doors opening and closing, and footsteps. All of them sound so far away. ...Was I sleeping for a while? He gets uneasy, and looks up at the clock. Perhaps the whole day went by while I slept? But he's worrying over nothing, as it's only 4 PM. It's still fine to sleep. Relieved, he lies back down, wraps himself in the blanket, and softly closes his eyes. And he never wakes up again.

It'd be nice to die like that, he thought.

*

The call came the afternoon of December 10th, four days after Sanagi stopped coming to the room. When Kousaka heard the sound, he almost unconsciously grabbed the smartphone, and seeing the words "Hijiri Sanagi" on screen, immediately pressed the call button.

"Hello," he said into the phone.

There was a long blank. As he was starting to question if Sanagi's phone was malfunctioning, she finally spoke.

"I'm under Sagae Bridge."

Kousaka searched his memories. He felt like one of the bridges over the river which separated the residential area his apartment was in and the central part of town was named that.

"And?", he asked.

"Come meet me."

Maybe it was just because it was over the phone, but her voice seemed weak, without the usual thorniness.

"...Sorry, but I can't deal with the outside."

"I know. But I want you to come."

"Please," Sanagi appended. Kousaka wondered if this was actually Hijiri Sanagi he was talking with. He couldn't believe that girl would be this modest.

"Got it," he casually affirmed. He didn't get the situation, but he could tell it was pressing. "I'll head right there. I think I'll be there in thirty minutes."

"...Thank you," Sanagi said in a wispy voice.

After hanging up, Kousaka donned a face mask and latex gloves, checked that he had his anti-bacterial goods in his bag, and left the apartment fully prepared.

Likely as a result of having the curtains closed all the time he'd been indoors, his eyes just couldn't adjust to the brightness, despite the sunlight not being particularly strong. The sun reflected off the snow piled on the ground, continually pricking him in the eyes. He should have only lost weight in these past few days of unhealthy living, but his body felt heavy. His muscles must have weakened.

Though the trip would have been ten minutes by bus, he spent many times longer walking that distance. Finally, Sagae Bridge came into sight. He went down the embankment stairs and along the sidewalk. By the pier of the bridge, he saw someone crouching and hiding their face.

"Sanagi."

Kousaka spoke from beside her, and Sanagi slowly looked up. It was dark from the shadow of the bridge, but he could plainly see how unhealthy her face looked. Though it was the middle of winter, her neck was wet with sweat.

"Are you feeling sick?"

Sanagi shook her head. It seemed to indicate "no, but it's hard to explain."

"Can you stand?"

She stayed silent. Rather than not wanting to answer, it seemed she wasn't sure of the answer herself.

"There's no rush," Kousaka said with concern for her. "I'll wait until you're better."

Kousaka nervously sat down about 50 centimeters away from Sanagi. Truthfully, he wanted to leave this damp and stagnant place as soon as possible, but he thought it would be too cruel to rush her right now.

A good hour passed, and Sanagi finally got up. Kousaka stood up after her, and she modestly grabbed the sleeve of his coat. He was able to bear that level of indirect contact.

The two began to walk. Suddenly, Kousaka realized the headphones Sanagi always wore were nowhere to be found. Maybe that was what made her look so defenseless today.

For a while after arriving at the apartment, Sanagi held her knees on the bed. Kousaka tried asking if she wanted something warm to drink, but she didn't respond. Soon the sun started to set, so he went to turn on the lights, but Sanagi said "Don't turn on the lights." He withdrew his arm.

Nearly an hour passed after that. The sun fully set, so the room was pitch black except for the unpleasantly bright computer and router lights.

Sanagi stood up with no previous notice and flipped the lightswitch. The pale artificial light lit every corner of the room, and everything's shape became clear. Then she went back to bed and lied down with the pillow under her chin as usual. But she didn't open a book.

"What happened?", Kousaka asked.

Sanagi started to turn, then gave up part-way and sunk her chin back into the pillow.

"There's some reason you can't go back home alone, right?"

After a long pause, Sanagi acknowledged it. "Yeah."

"...Um," she spoke. "I'm scared of making eye contact with people."

"What do you mean?"

Then Sanagi explained, in a halting manner.

"I'm totally aware it's overly self-conscious. But it's just no good. Every person I meet, it feels like they're staring right at me. But I mean, it's not their gaze itself that's the problem... See, when you think "I'm being looked at," you look their way too, right? And when you do, even if they were actually looking someplace else, they feel your eyes on them and look at you. When I make eye contact like that... it feels so bad, I can't describe it in words. Like someone stomping around your house in dirty shoes, rummaging through your closets and drawers - that kind of unpleasant feeling hits me."

Kousaka was taken aback. Now that she mentioned it, from the time they met until now, he'd hardly made eye contact with Sanagi. Their eyes had crossed paths for an instant numerous times, but maybe there was no moment that could really be called "eye contact."

Sanagi went on. "But that doesn't mean I can just never go outside, or walk around with my eyes closed, right? I tried to see if there was anything I could do, and found out that relying on certain objects can lessen your symptoms. I tried a bunch of things, but... for some reason, the most effective thing wasn't glasses or a face mask or a hat, but headphones."

"Ah..." Kousaka nodded with understanding. "So that's why you always wore such big headphones?"

"Yeah. Doesn't make much sense to cover my ears because I'm scared of eye contact, huh." Sanagi laughed self-derisively.

"Nah." Kousaka shook his head. "I think I get it."

He wasn't lying. He knew all too well from his own experience just how illogical compulsions could be, and it wasn't Kousaka's first time hearing about scopophobia. In the process of reading through books about mysophobia, he acquired knowledge of other compulsive disorders whether he wanted to or not. He had read somewhere about people who couldn't walk through crowds without headphones. And about people who were scared of people looking at them, yet purposefully dressed strangely and dyed their hair conspicuous colors.

Kousaka could understand their feelings to an extent. The reason headphones proved more effective at surpressing Sanagi's scopophobia than sunglasses or face masks was probably that occupying her sense of hearing diluted the feeling of "being there." And she might have purposefully dyed her hair a flashy color and dressed in an attention-grabbing way to protect her fragile heart, or perhaps as a feint of sorts for those around her. Like an insect that mimics the dangerous coloration of a wasp to avoid predators, if she acted like a delinquent at least in appearance - while it might get more eyes on her - it would reduce the instances of actual eye contact.

"I see... Scopophobia...", Kousaka affirmed once more. "I didn't notice at all until you told me. You hid it well."

"...Maybe in front of you. But it doesn't go like that with others." Sanagi snuck a look at Kousaka, then turned back. "You don't try to look people in the eye when you talk, do you?"

She was exactly right. While it didn't go as far as scopophobia, Kousaka was also poor at looking people in the eye (though naturally, the reason wasn't finding other people's gaze scary, but not wanting to look directly at their dirtiness).

At this point, he finally realized what Izumi meant by "suitability." In short, this girl would only get along with cowards who couldn't look her in the eye.

Sanagi slowly began to tell the circumstances leading up to her calling Kousaka.

This afternoon, she headed for the library like usual. While returning a book she'd checked out and looking for a new one to borrow, all of a sudden, she noticed her scopophobia symptoms were less severe than usual. Maybe going to visit Kousaka daily was now starting to show its effect.

She stopped and thought. While I'm rehabilitating, how about I read here in the library? It being a day off, the library was rather crowded, but maybe it would be more effective training to have this stimuli.

Sanagi sat in an empty seat and opened her book. At first, she wasn't able to focus due to glances she was only imagining, but she gradually narrowed her vision and could focus only on the words.

After reading about halfway, she decided to take a break. She stood up to loosen her stiff body, and wandered around between the bookcases. She liked walking around the library like this for no particular reason. She enjoyed taking books she had no interest in the contents of and just checking their binding, shape, weight, smell, and feel.

It couldn't have been three minutes since she left her seat. But when she came back, something important was missing. The headphones she'd hung on the chair were nowhere to be found.

Sanagi immediately looked around. The book she was reading was there on the seat, and her other belongings were still there, so it seemed unlikely that the headphones were considered a lost item and taken away. They'd been stolen.

She cursed her carelessness for getting out of her seat and leaving her headphones behind. Without those, she couldn't walk through crowds or ride the train - how could she have neglected them?

She put the book in her bag and left the library with an uncertain gait. Should I take an hour walking home, or endure and take the train? Both felt equally difficult. I'll take this optimistically, she told herself. You could think of this like my chance. Once I overcome this trial, I'll know for sure my disorder has gotten much better than before.

But not five minutes after leaving the library, her heart was torn to shreds. She couldn't remember how she'd walked around outside before. What expression she had, where she placed her gaze, how fast she walked, how she swung her hands. The more she thought about it, the more awkward it felt, and her scopophobia intensified. To get away, she went off the road and down stairs, hid under Sagae Bridge, and grasping at straws, called Kousaka.

That was the end of the story.

"...I thought I was getting better," Sanagi mumbled at the end.

For a while, Kousaka listened to her sob.

He knew painfully well how it felt to lose confidence and become timid after a fit like this. And he knew that consolation with words had almost no effect at these times. So Kousaka was silent. He'd let her keep crying.

But contrary to his expectations, Sanagi quickly stopped crying. She wiped her tears, took a deep breath, sat up and turned over, and sat on the edge of the bed. And for a moment, she gave Kousaka a meaningful glance.

Maybe Sanagi's expecting something from me. Or maybe I want to do something for her, so I'm projecting it onto her glance. Either way, the conclusion was the same. I should do something for Sanagi, Kousaka thought firmly. Unlike me, she's at an age where she still has a lot to sort out, where you're fragile and easily-hurt. Now is the time she needs support the most.

Kousaka sat down next to Sanagi. And he timidly offered his hand. His bare hand, since he'd taken off his gloves on returning to the room. And he touched Sanagi's head.

Instantly, numerous disgusting words like "pores," "oily skin," "keratin," "staphylococcus epidermidis," and "Demodex folliculorum" ran through his head. But Kousaka temporarily put them off with a shudder. If he was going to scream, he would do so as much as he liked after she left. But now wasn't the time.

Sanagi lifted her face in surprise. But she didn't show any dislike.

Kousaka awkwardly moved the hand placed on her head.

He was intending to stroke it.

"...You don't have to push yourself," Sanagi said with a sigh.

"I'm not pushing myself," Kousaka said with a smile. But she could feel his body trembling through where his hand was touching.

He obstinately stroked Sanagi's head. Maybe he figured that he'd probably never do this again once it was over, so it was better to get plenty of it in now.

"That's enough," Sanagi refused, but Kousaka wouldn't listen, saying "No it isn't."

"All right, all right. I'm feeling better. You can stop consoling me."

Hearing that, Kousaka finally removed his hand from her head.

"Did that distract you?"

"Are you stupid?", Sanagi said with a look of shock, but seemingly wouldn't deny it did. Her voice had regained some of its cheerfulness.

"I'm really sorry about injuring your cheek," Kousaka apologized. "Does it still hurt?"

"Nah. This is nothing." Sanagi ran a finger over the scabbed wound. "...Going to wash your hands?"

"No, this is fine."

"Huh."

Kousaka stared at his right hand, used to touch Sanagi. It was still trembling slightly, but he managed to resist the urge to go take a shower right away.

"I'll tell you something funny," Kousaka said.

"Something funny?"

"To tell the truth, I'm a clean freak."

"...Yeah. I know."

"Of course." Kousaka smiled wryly. "I feel like people other than myself are horribly dirty. Just being touched by them, just touching something they touched, just breathing the same air, makes me feel like I'll be sick. I know better than anyone it's just an issue of feelings and nothing more. But there's nothing I can do. I tried various treatments, but they just made it worse."

Kousaka glanced to check Sanagi's expression.

"Go on," she said.

"Even when I first got a girlfriend, I couldn't kiss her, or even hold hands for that matter. One day, she treated me to her own cooking. She was good at that kind of familial stuff. And her cooking was well-done. But even though she'd put in all that effort to make it for me - or maybe that was exactly why - I was incredibly hesitant to eat it. As much as I tried to consider it as food, I couldn't bear it just thinking that she'd touched the ingredients. Honestly, I didn't want to take a single bite. And yet, I knew it would be rude to just refuse the meal she'd made, so I emptied my head and just forced it down. What do you think happened?"

Sanagi silently shook her head. Like saying she didn't even want to think about it.

"After eating about half, I threw it all up right in front of her. I can't forget the look on her face. We broke up not ten days after that. I still have dreams about it sometimes. The meals get more elaborate every time. And since breaking up with her, I've never had anything like a girlfriend again."

Sanagi slowly shook her head. "...That wasn't very funny."

"Really? Isn't it at least a little funny that I haven't ever kissed anyone at age 27?"

After Kousaka's funny story bombed, Sanagi got off the bed and did a big stretch. Then, thinking of something, she reached for a dispenser on a shelf and covered her hands in disinfectant. Then she carefully put disposable latex gloves on them and even put on a face mask, and turned toward Kousaka once she was ready.

She gave him no time to ask what she was doing.

Sanagi grabbed Kousaka's shoulders with both hands and, through a face mask, put her lips on his.

Though a thin cloth separated them, he did faintly feel her soft lips.

By the time Kousaka understood the intent of her actions, she had pulled away.

"You'll have to endure with that," Sanagi said, taking off the mask.

Kousaka had no words, halted like a toy out of batteries. He might have even forgotten to breathe.

"What are you trying to do?", he asked at length.

"I felt sorry for you, so I gave you a kiss. Thank me."

"...That's very polite of you."

Following Kousaka's confused thank-you, Sanagi made an addition.

"Besides, I've never had one myself, so I guess it was just right."

He didn't know what exactly she meant by "just right," but from her expression, it didn't seem to be a bad thing.

"...Well then. It's time I say farewell."

Sanagi stood up and grabbed her bag.

"Can you get home alone?", Kousaka asked with concern.

"Yeah. It's not too far, and it's less crowded by now."

"I see..."

Kousaka judged from her tone that she would probably be fine.

Then he had a sudden thought, opened the bottom drawer of his desk, took out headphones, and put them around Sanagi's neck.

"You're sure? You realize I'll get them dirty?", Sanagi asked with a slightly nervous look.

"I won't use them again, so you can take them."

Sanagi put her hands on the headphones and spoke happily. "...I see. You're a lifesaver. Thanks."

"Right. Good night, Sanagi."

"Good night, Mr. Kousaka."

She smiled, looking right into Kousaka's eyes.

After Sanagi left, Kousaka sat in his chair and closed his eyes, just thinking aimlessly about the events that had just transpired. He repeatedly thought pointless things like "come to think of it, that was probably the first time she called me Mr. Kousaka."

After about thirty minutes, he was suddenly struck by the fact that he still hadn't started cleaning or taken a shower. It had been a long time since he'd gotten away from his cleaning tendencies for that long.

Something inside me is starting to change. So he felt.