>>12505 >the school life scenario is the "real" story, and everything that has happened to us is the result of a coma dream brought on due to severe brain trauma from Mokou beating the shit out of us "So...you don't remember how you got here, huh..."
She comes to visit me the next day, too.
I'm secretly glad.
After I'd assured my family that I was alright, they'd stopped visiting as often.
My father still comes about twice a week, sometimes bringing my sisters with him, but most of the time, I am alone.
It's hard, spending so much time by myself in this empty hospital room.
Smiling up at Mokou, I answer her question.
"It's true. I don't remember anything at all."
That isn't exactly true, though.
I still have a few memories from before my accident.
A feeling of falling. Darkness. Happy laughter.
A nurse. Water around my ankles.
Too short, too unclear to be understood.
Are they real memories at all? Or are they just pieces from that strange dream?
For now, though, they're unimportant, and I sweep those thoughts away.
"In fact," I continue, "I don't remember my own name. I mean--I know what my name is, but it doesn't feel as if it's mine..."
Mokou looks down at me curiously. "You remembered my name, though," she said.
"Well...Not exactly."
I pause. Even in my head, what I'm about to say sounds embarrassing.
"I had a weird dream while I was unconscious. You were in it, or a person that seemed a lot like you, and that person's name was Mokou. So, when you came to visit me the first time, I called you Mokou."
It was my mistake. She's not her, of course.
But...
But...she acts like her.
There are a few things different. She's wearing a normal school uniform instead of those strange clothes and she doesn't have an accent, but other than that--
Mokou narrows her eyes, but her expression is more contemplative than angry. "In other words, you don't actually remember anything about me."
"That's not true. I--"
No, what she's saying is correct.
This Mokou--the real Mokou--probably isn't immortal.
She probably can't use magic, either.
"Huh, I guess you're right."
"In other words," Mokou points out, smirking, "I might not actually be your friend at all. I could have lied when I told you that, and you wouldn't ever know the difference."
For some reason, even though she's smiling, she looks a bit nervous while she says this.
I can't blame her. That feeling, that everything you know might be wrong--it's definitely not a pleasant one.
But I shake my head.
"I...I don't think so."
I take a deep breath.
"In my dream...you were...a nice person."
I feel strange. Like something is squeezing my chest.
"In that dream...I really...liked you."
What am I saying?
I can't seem to understand the words coming out of my mouth.
I can hear my heartbeat in my ears.
"So...so, I think the Mokou in real life...is a nice person, too."
I look up at Mokou.
She doesn't meet my eyes.
I feel like I'm going to start shaking.
Why is that?
A minute goes by.
Then another.
"Stupid..."
I barely catch the whisper.
"...Mokou?"
"You...stupid idiot. Trusting some dream-version of me like that--that's unbelievably stupid..."
She turns to face me.
The things she's saying are really mean.
But, I don't mind at all.
Because, just like the Mokou from my dream, this Mokou is smiling.
I smile, too.
"Is that so? I guess you might be right..."
"W--well, maybe not, right? After all, it was your own brain telling you all that stuff, so maybe it's your subconscious telling you something, right?"
"Heh, maybe you're right, Mokou."
"Of course I'm right."
And, even though the dream is over,
I feel as if the adventure is only beginning.