Touma gulps down from the tumbler and gasps in relief, newly refreshed.

"This water is so cold! I thought I'd drank it empty, but there's more left. I suppose you didn't get to refill the kitten slash kitty's bowl."

Kusuo's shoulders jerk. "Ah - you're right. How did you know?"

"Well, it's obvious," states Touma matter-of-factly. "There's no other reason to refill your tumbler before going home. Plus, you mentioned jogging every evening when it's quite cool. I imagine it can get chilly once you've worked out a sweat. So, you're probably used to drinking lukewarm water. Not to mention the health benefits that come with it, but I don't know if you're aware of that."

Touma levels the tumbler to his eyes.

"But it's not like you can choose to have lukewarm water at all times. Could it be that you use your mysterious power to increase its temperature? Is it something like fire magic?" he asks in a tone begging for it to be true.

"It is," confirms Kusuo. "One form of it anyway, but I'm not responsible for it."

"Huh? What do you mean? Do you have an ally? A mascot creature who provides you exceptional abilities like in Precure?"

"Yes… You're holding it right now."

Touma looks at his empty hand.

"The other…" - his arm bounces up and back down as he makes a pitiful attempt to point at it - "Hand… It's a smart water bottle. It can heat up to keep it warm." His hand makes it to the water bottle, and with a tap on its cap, it lights up with a temperature indicator.

"Oh… Well, that's…." Touma clears his throat. "Fancy."

Kusuo appears genuinely surprised by the lacklustre reaction. "Sorry," he says with big, innocent eyes. "It was funnier in my head."

"Haha… But you can do it, right?" Saying it aloud fills him with renewed confidence. Touma isn't letting a joke that didn't land get in the way. "You couldn't have fixed my phone without a type of external energy to bind the materials back together…with no apparent…damages…."

Something odd is going on before him, more unfathomable than watching invisible tendrils suck up scraps from the ground.

Touma could not come up with an explanation for what Kusuo was doing - or what he seemed to have been doing - with his phone, which was why he watched. He held back the very human nature to be afraid, to scream and yell in shock at what defied the fundamental laws known to modern science. Touma reduced himself to a vessel for a pair of eyes so that he could commit every detail to memory. After which, he had to play it by ear and refrained from agitating Kusuo. He hadn't expected him to out himself quickly, with little effort.

But this other mystery would not unravel as effortlessly as the last. That mystery was his friend, Saiki Kusuo, whose steady amity snapped to deadness. Touma treads carefully.

"Are you worried about everyone at school finding out? You know I won't tell another soul. Right? Your secret is safe with me!"

"I appreciate that," says Kusuo tentatively, scratching his jaw. Touma grins.

"I'm the one most grateful. I wasn't sure what would happen to me after becoming a witness. You could have threatened to hurt me, erased my memory, or ended my life! Though, maybe those options are just not available to you. How strong is your ability exactly? You mentioned telekinesis, and I believe you were about to say you were a psychic…before you were…born…."

There it is again.

When his powers are questioned, Kusuo makes a strange expression.

We 've only known each other for less than a month. I don't know what kind of life he had, being burdened by a secret he couldn't share with anyone. Do Kusuo's parents even know? Probably not.

That lifetime of secrecy has been upturned. Kusuo may be reeling from the unexpected development.

He's decided. He's not going to let Kusuo go home with the wrong idea.

"Kusuo, remember those strange photos I showed you when we first met?"

He gets an affirming hum, and the tension on Kusuo's shoulders melts.

"Since then and now, an article from a trusted news source declared it partially as a hoax. Although they couldn't say what happened to the trees there, the other elements in the scene - the tree with the missing trunk and the plasma particles from the rocks - are likely to have been planted to make it look chaotic. It's a conclusion I've considered to be highly likely. I mostly agree with the assessment - it's probably the truth."

His eyes wander around the neighbourhood, taking note of the formation of the clouds, the colours of the roofs, and the birds perching on electric lines.

"But that kind of conclusion... It's boring. Of course, better mundane than the alternative: a secret weapon, a chemical leak — I wouldn't want it to be something horrible. The thing I'm trying to say is - well - I wasn't looking into it for the satisfaction of figuring out the facts. It's only the means to it. So, um, I'm sorry if my initial questions were too intrusive. It's not like that. I don't really care about it, and - uh - sorry." Touma's facial expression slackens. "I lost where I was getting at. Can I start over?"

"Huh? From the beginning? You don't have to do that -"

"Wait! I remember! Kusuo, your powers - they don't bother me at all! I don't have prior knowledge regarding your group. I watched a program once on a live exorcism, but that's about it. Never in a million years would I think all these curses and spirits were real. I still don't know if they are - you'd have to enlighten me - but just this possibility - that is, you - existing has already proven me wrong! How fascinating! I'm so lucky to have you as my friend and to be so close to such a unique human being!"

Kusuo reels in revoltion. Touma's smile drops, and he, too, starts to feel sick.

"I-I'm just really excited. I thought if you know how happy this makes me feel, you'd…." Touma tries to think of a way to come back from here, but his once clear, logical thoughts have become indecipherable. He messed up. Has he overstepped his boundaries? Did Kusuo not think of him as a friend the same way he saw them?

"Touma, I… I don't want to talk about it," says Kusuo quietly.

A cold dagger plunges deep into his chest.

It's hard to breathe, Touma notes numbly. Seems like he can still think after all.

"I'm sorry… You look so happy, but - " Touma hears a sharp intake of breath. "- It's just too embarrassing!"

Embarrassing?

He looks up, perplexed. "Embarrassing? Ah… You mean it's embarrassing to have a normal person go on about something they have no understanding of."

Kusuo waves his arms frantically. His head erupts into shakes that imitate a vibrating engine. Touma thinks that must not feel very pleasant for his brain.

"No, no, no! It's not like that. It's just that - I am not fond…of them…."

Kusuo doesn't appear sad to Touma. Though, it does look like he's resisting the urge to run away again just from having this discussion. "Have they caused you nothing but trouble?"

"No. They're very convenient to have. I can't think of a time they're not."

"There's no side-effect to using them?"

Kusuo hesitates. "No, I don't think so."

"Well, I've only seen you fix my phone," says Touma. "And like I said, it looks even better than before."

Kusuo makes a face like he had been tricked into smelling a durian. Touma is stumped.

He 's telling the truth? He really finds powers - one that can fix a modern item like a cellphone - embarrassing?

But why?

"Maybe I overreacted," says Touma on a positive note in an attempt to uplift the mood. "Maybe you thought I wouldn't be as impressed if all you could do was bend some spoons, hmm?"

"What does bending spoons have to do with it?"

"Good question… One way or another, bending spoons without physical contact have become synonymous with psychic powers."

"Is that so?" Kusuo is mildly intrigued. "I might be misremembering, but aren't there magnets that can bend steel bars? Compared to that, it doesn't sound like it's difficult to make it seem like you're bending spoons with psychic powers."

"If we're talking about con artists and magicians, then yes, there are many ways to create the illusion of psychic powers. But for the real deal, it might be asking too much to get them to bend steel bars. It would depend on its thickness - first of all - but assuming it's an inch in diameter, the force needed to bend it would be about half the force of an adult American alligator bite."

He considers. "Half the force of an alligator bite…."

"An adult American alligator," stresses Touma.

"Then, for you, psychics are not stronger than alligators."

"What about you?" asks Touma, very unaware. "What do you think? How strong should a psychic be?"

Kusuo looks past Touma, his gaze locking on the tower of their school. "If they could blow a building up with a single blast, I'd say they're pretty decent. Now that I think about it," he remarks offhandedly, "I feel like he's strong enough to wipe this city in an instant. We wouldn't even notice."

"You finally picked up."

The call is a major surprise. Touma does not remember having any business with his ill-tempered brother. He isn't known to make calls for leisure (and neither of receiving them), but that doesn't mean it's not welcomed. Touma is happy to do something - anything - for the person who saved his life.

Besides, he's been staring at the wall and conversing with himself for an hour now.

"Did you need something, Megumi-san?"

"Is that all you have to say?"

"What's this? You want to hear me ramble?" He can't resist a laugh. There's no sound from the other end, but Megumi-san is surely not amused. Touma can simply tell. His brother is awfully predictable like this, even more than the average person. "I read about a recent finding of dreams being coded to reflect motivations and beliefs. You see, dreams are not generated randomly, but by a systematic review of memories relative to personal life strategy - that's the direct quote, by the way - that's why our stress winds up surfacing in the form of nightmares - "

There's a distinct clicking of a tongue from Megumi-san's end.

"Oh, were you already aware of that? My apologies - in that case - "

"Wait - "

"There are no subliminal messages in dreams, but they reveal underlying structure of the person's psyche. It's a fascinating topic. I forgot I wanted to talk about it," says Touma sadly before being hit by a realization and immediately perking up again. "Ah, that's why you called. I haven't had my phone with me for a couple of days. Sorry."

"No, it's my fault. I should have known better." It's not an apology as much as Megumi-san being chagrined at himself.

"Please, don't be so hard on yourself. Most people would have punched me by now! Oh, but you know that already. But then again, we are talking on the phone, so… Well! Considering your temper, you're like a saint. Barely containing, but still a contender."

Silence. Is he making an expression? Crushing a can of cola on his hand? Distracted by a sumo wrestler crossing the street? If Megumi-san didn't want his turn, Touma had more things to say.

"So, did you call just because I haven't been picking up?"

"What ha…" Megumi-san's voice fades as Touma talks over him.

Silence again.

This time, Megumi-san can safely ask.

"Did something happen?"

A lot. But Touma promised his new friend, Kusuo, that he would not tell others his secret. Well, he specified he wouldn't blab his mouth to those in school. Oh, Kusuo… He's lucky Touma is on the side of justice. If he were a backstabbing friend, he would have sold Kusuo out in exchange for short-sighted rewards with some generic, gangster line: "Huuuh? I said I wasn't going to tell everyone at school, didn't I? So I told my brother. I thought it was okay, you know? He's family… I didn't think it would turn out like this *evil douche cackle*".

Anyway, if Touma were a cackling evil douche and told Megumi-san, he's confident his brother would beat him up and drag his half-dead body to Kusuo to apologize. "I left him alive for you to finish the job," he'll probably say.

"H-hey…"

"Oh! I got distracted. I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

"It's fine. Just that you were quiet for…three seconds. That was alarming enough."

"Takashi-kun was being immature again. He made a new friend, and you know what? So did I."

"Tch. I left him alone since your mom knew him." Touma hears the harsh crushing of a can. "Did he think he couldget away since he's in a new school?"

"He probably heard from the adults that our parents weren't together anymore. He was scared of Fushiguro-san, remember? Anyway, it led to some good things." Touma hides the disappointment that his brother didn't catch what he said at the end. It's silly to expect him to care. He does, obviously, but Megumi-san is a loner that wants nothing to do with others. People have this impression that he's the same, but it's not like Touma has chosen to be alone.

"Hmph." Touma, an expert in Megumi-san's speech, can tell he's pleased."So,did this new friend help you out?"

Touma lets out a startled scream.

"H-h-h-how did you know? Can you hear my thoughts with telepathy? Or could it be that you heard it from him? From Kusuo?"

"No…?"

"Then how did…?"

Megumi-san is as confused as he is. "You said it yourself."

"Oh, yeah…" Touma straightens on his chair. "But how did you know he helped me out?"

"I guessed."

"Oh."

"You don't have to sound so disappointed. What's gotten into you? You said telepathy?"

Touma is far from disappointed. Megumi-san really cares. He listens.

"Never mind," says Touma, chuckling. "I'm happy I met you, Megumi-san."

Megumi-san brushes off the sentiment without hesitation. "Quit it. You know I don't like it when you make such a big deal out of things. I literally didn't do anything…"

"That's not true."

"You've said that a hundred times already."

"And I'll say it a hundred times more if I have to."

"Whatever. This Kusuo sounds like he did something to help you. Thank him instead."

"Why, of course! It's the very first thing that I…ACK!" Like being struck by lightning, Touma comes to a dreadful realization.

He thanked Kusuo for finding his phone but not for fixing it! Kusuo went out of his way to use powers that he was strongly reversed to for his sake, and he didn't thank him? Touma's fixation got the better of him again. He had only been thinking of himself.

I 'm sorry, Kusuo. I haven't been a good friend to you.

"Megumi-san, sorry, but I have to talk to Kusuo."

"Why not wait until tomorrow? Or does he go to a different school?"

"I owe him an apology, too."

Initially, it was obvious. People are motivated to work hard at the starting line. Surrounded by new faces, new sights, and no academic exhaustion to pull them down, it's the best chance to make suitable investments before the status quo can be established. Middle school students get their blank slate only once. Touma thought that the strange first year who had overslept on the first day of school was merely entertaining him since he didn't have any other choice. Touma expected them to drift apart — once the "normal" boy finds a "normal" group to hang out with, once he joins a club to enjoy a "normal" hobby. Touma's viability would shrink while Kusuo's pool of options expanded until their interactions stopped, and on the hallways, as their eyes tentatively meet, they would exchange awkward courtesy smiles. While Touma would be alone with his nose under a book, Kusuo would be at another table beside his friends, enjoying a conversation with his preferred company and pretending they'd never met.

Touma didn't think that way immediately. As he got home and hummed happily in the bath, he thought of what a blessing it was to make a friend so quickly. He was thrilled to have met someone who wasn't stupid and insufferable as all his previous encounters had been. But after calming down the next day, his senses returned to reality. Kusuo didn't mean everything. "Normal" people were different. They sometimes leave things out for interpretation. Vagueness is how they navigate through social situations.

Touma wondered why he kept tricking himself into thinking otherwise. This has always been the pattern with every relationship he's had.

"Stupid Touma," he'd thought to himself as his classmates shuffled to hang out with their friends for lunch. "Your memory is amazing, isn't it? So you don't have an excuse for always forgetting."

Then he appeared by his desk, having strolled across the classroom as if he belonged there, and asked where they should be eating.

"If you don't have one in mind, there's a good spot near a sakura tree I saw. Only if you don't mind!"

Maybe he had a motive (it would make the most sense), but Touma wasn't getting the feeling that Kusuo was hiding something from him. On the contrary, when they continued their discussion on the mysterious trees in Yamanashi, Kusuo suggested the involvement of spirits.

"Spirits! I shouldn't have laughed, oops… But you really can't tell from appearances who's religious. My mom dated a guy who believed in apparitions,and he's seriously jacked."

Kusuo had been quite flustered and changed the subject awkwardly. At that time, it seemed like he was embarrassed for saying nonsense, but it's obvious he was simply a terrible liar.

So, why? Kusuo didn't seem that thrilled during their conversations. He was polite and a good listener, and he liked anime like most boys their age. It shouldn't be hard for him to get along with others. He didn't have to be around Touma.

Pity? That thought angers him. He doesn't find himself to be pitiable. Touma is proud of who he is.

No, hold on. Touma takes a deep breath to calm down. It's probably not that. Kusuo follows him around too much, like entering the restroom with him without doing his own business. He sometimes acts like a child he can't shake off. That's not how someone taking pity would act.

What can it be?

Touma doesn't like this. He can be wrong in so many ways. He can be hurt for being wrong.

Unfortunately, I'm not a coward. However,my hands are cold and clammy. I'm visibly shaking,and my stomach hurts. I'm so overwhelmed I want to cry, but I won't! So take that!

He - unnecessarily, he knows - slams the call button on his phone.

The calls - every single one of them - go unanswered.

Standing before Kusuo's classroom for the first time, Touma can't help but muse on how their positions have been reversed. He had stopped wondering a long time ago about the reason behind Kusuo's eagerness to hang out. However, Touma still took comfort in knowing that if Kusuo did decide to pursue a different company, Touma would essentially be unaffected. It was undeniably clear in hindsight. Touma must have been so shocked yesterday that his state of mind stayed impaired throughout the night. Acting while emotional was a mistake. Normally, he would have realized that being alone was fine by him. He had been alone this whole time, and he was content with that. Kusuo isn't different from the 'friends' he'd made… Save for being a psychic.

But the fact that he thought it was a shame to lose Kusuo because of what he was could only mean that Touma never found their friendship to have depth. They've only known each other for a month, so no surprise there. He's not being cold-hearted — not at all. This was the reality of their feelings. It's not the beautiful friendship found in manga. Real life is full of ugly truths because they're human and not fictional characters created from ideals.

There's no point coming to talk to Kusuo, but he supposes he can at least let their 'friendship' run its course than potentially make things sour. Scanning the room, he ignores Kusuo and pays attention to the rising student to his right, Mitsuba Sousuke-kun. He meets him by the door, Sousuke-kun taking notice and greeting him warmly with features far too soft to be a boy's.

"Asumi-kun, did you want to ask something about Saiki-kun?" Sousuke-kun is timid and speaks quietly, but Touma suspects shyness is not the only reason he keeps his voice low. His voice is delicate and mellow, just very pleasant to the ears. It's different and therefore sure to be ridiculed in an all-boys school like theirs.

"No? I plan on talking to Kusuo, but what do you have to do with him?"

"Oh! I just thought…Sorry."

Hmm. Did he come off as sharp?

"I wanted to confirm if you'd found the kitten sla… er, the cat," he amends.

"Oh, yes! I got your mail yesterday. Thank you so much, Asumi-kun."

He waves his hand. "That mail wasn't from me, but Kusuo's. Though it was by my instructions that he did so."

"Saiki-kun? I see… " Sousuke-kun blinks with the long lashes of his eyes, unsure what else to say. Touma scratches his cheek, having second thoughts on the timing of what he's about to bring up.

"An acquaintance of mine has been insistent on meeting you. She found out we go to the same school, and she said she wanted to be able to talk to an award-winning photographer."

Sousuke-kun laughs abashedly with a faint blush. "Wow, um, I'm not anyone special, aha. Yes, I won two national contests during elementary, but that's thanks to the subject, you know?"

"It takes a special eye to recognize the best way to express them," he points out. Sousuke-kun covers his face and mutely screams in joy in his hands. "I take it that's a yes?"

Any trace of shyness in Sousuke-kun is gone as he sways his shoulders in a small happy dance. "You're so terrible, Asumi-kun. Just terrible. This is blackmail. I don't have a choice, do I? You should save some of that smooth-talking with Saiki-kun. He looks like he's about to snap someone's neck."

Touma laughs. "I don't know the joke's context, but the unexpectedness got me."

Sousuke-kun groans.

"I wasn't joking, you du - " Sousuke-kun hacks and chokes on his words. "Er, that is… Even I can't stand sitting next to him right now… Anyway, good luck." Avoiding Touma's eyes, Sousuke-kun hurries past him with his packed lunch hugged to his chest.

"Thanks…" he mutters uncertainly. He supposes he'll ask Kusuo what the deal is between them. Maybe he can bring that up as a conversation starter.

"Good afternoon, Kus - "

A glass shatters by the front, eliciting startled and angry cries. Students down the hallway can be heard talking and shuffling to check out what's happening. Looking shaken, Kusuo raises his hand toward the sharp, fine fragments piled on the bottom of the window. Touma leaps at his desk and grabs the hand, having a very good idea of what he's about to do right in his classmates' presence.

"Kusuo! What happened to keeping that a secret?" he hisses, visibly in pain. His stomach got impaled by a treacherous desk corner.

Kusuo looks high-strung but seems to slightly calm down upon recognizing him. "Touma?"

"Let's get you out of here. You… You're not looking great."

Touma thinks Sousuke-kun has exaggerated or is downright mistaken. Kusuo usually is well-kept and organized, but today he looks like his mom has dressed him up from the bed. The only thing consistent is his perfectly-trimmed black hair and the five clips on his left temple.

"But the window…"

Kusuo sounds distraught about it.

"It's fine. Someone will take care of it." Touma rummages through Kusuo's belongings and plucks out his bento for him. "Where's your fancy tumbler?" Kusuo stares back at him blankly.

"Uhh…"

Sluggishly, he moves to search through his area.

"Never mind," says Touma. "Let's eat by the gym. C'mon…" Touma leads a dazed Kusuo out of the classroom by his wrist, squeezing through bystanders that have gathered by the doorway.

"Touma, sorry."

"For what?"

"Huh?" Kusuo stares, bewildered. "Um… I didn't get to read all your messages."

Touma's chopstick hovers still over his mouth.

"Wait, you didn't read them?"

"I was!" he says passionately. "I was reading it, but I got… distracted."

"Oh."

When Kusuo didn't pick up, Touma did the next best thing: he left a message. He could only make assumptions about why Kusuo wasn't picking up, so Touma covered everything he could think that would keep the misunderstanding to a minimum. Then, of course, there was the explanation for the long explanation. He let Kusuo in on some personal details as context for his behaviour and how it was difficult for him to get his feelings across. No amount of words ever seems to be enough for people to understand him, but what else was Touma supposed to do? Charades?

He made sure to be succinct, although 1552 words might still be a lot.

Touma brings his chopstick down.

"So, you weren't bothered over that?"

"No." Kusuo's eyes widen. "Why would I? It's you who should be angry."

"Nah…"

Touma rolled on his bed all night, checking his phone and staring at the "READ" sign under the blocks of his carefully-selected words. He constructed arguments in his head; created scenarios to prepare himself for an inevitable face-to-face talk that could either end well or explode in front of their faces. It took everything in him to refrain from typing more words.

"Wait until tomorrow," he muttered to himself over and over."Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow…"

Tomorrow was a better day. He could think better, and he felt a lot less. But there was a lingering ache in his chest that would not leave him. He was unhappy. But he was confident it would pass, as all things did.

"I'm still sorry," whispers Kusuo. "I know it's hard to believe, but I mean it."

Kusuo's obsession with the subject confuses Touma. He doesn't have telepathy… right?

"Kusuo, can I ask something?"

He nods.

"What happened back in the classroom was you. I don't have to ask that. What I don't know is how often that occurs."

"That's the first time it happened," he answers despondently. "Well… not counting what happened in my room. But that's different… I was asleep."

"Does your state of mind have anything to do with it?"

Kusuo rubs his arm. "I guess so, but this is different," he insists at his shoes frantically. "I'm not feeling well today."

It's more than that. Kusuo is at a loss. "Do you want to talk?"

He does so readily.

"Well — yesterday. I had a bad feeling. I thought it was a premonition. Probably a curse, seeking revenge. But it wasn't that. I wished it was. Curses are — t-they're not a problem. But when you messaged me — and I read it. L-Like I said, I was reading it. You thanked me for returning your phone. You said it would have been lost if I hadn't found it. It hit me. The bad feeling. I ran back home, but I was tired. I just cleared 2.5 kilometres. It t-took a while, but I got home and… I was right—the bad feeling I had all day. I c-checked my closet, and it wasn't there. My old stuffed animal!" exclaims Kusuo. "It's gone!"

"You were running last night?" exclaims Touma, his jaw-dropping.

"Yeah, my stuffed — uh, mm." The interjection kills off Kusuo's steam. "You already know that, though…"

He did! Kusuo had a reason he wasn't answering the phone, and Touma knew that! He did, but just — poofed! His brain just poofed!

I can't believe it! I am officially an idiot!

"W-what is it?" asks Kusuo worriedly as Touma sinks his head in his hands.

"Just a headache," he says with a pained, exhausted smile. "Never mind that. What's that about your stuffed animal?"

And he isn't mad that I called him eighteen times. While he was bearing intense uneasiness, Kusuo apologized to me first. It dawns on him.He's putting my feelings before his…

Touma is such an awful friend… No, he's an awful person. He listens intently to Kusuo's anguish, how his belongings would vanish overnight without a trace. Manga, training weights, packs of cat food, an entire Ciderman Blu-ray collection, and more recently, his frog-tipped umbrella that he hadn't gotten the chance to use. Whatever force was at play took things indiscriminately, no matter the weight and cost. Kusuo's worst fear was that "it" would take his parents one day.

"Years ago, anyway," he explains. "Everything I mentioned turns up elsewhere in the house. So it's not a vengeful spirit or my powers. I'm just that careless, even though I'm sure — very, very sure — I'd left them where they should be. It's so frustrating. No matter how careful I am with my stuff, they always end up disappearing somewhere else."

Touma rubs Kusuo's back sympathetically. Kusuo loosens his fists, breathing deeply and sighing.

"B-but that's not it either," he continues, swallowing. "Even though I know it's my fault, I still can't help but be…angered. It feels like I'm being played at. Laughed at. It makes no sense for me to feel — to think — this way. Because it's not the case, right? I'm b-being c-razy. I'm not even relieved to have them back," he confesses with a laugh. "I wouldn't notice if the stuffed animal stays gone — It's not at all cute; that's why I've kept it in my closet. It's not the physical loss or my attachment to them... I just hate the feeling of… of what it does to me. Of what belongs to me being taken away. I hate it. It's so unfair."

"I'm sorry you're going through this, Kusuo. I really am. I get it to an extent. But, I think you're right about one thing and that something is messing with you. Up here." Touma taps his head. Kusuo pales.

"So, you agree I'm crazy…"

"No! Ack, that's not it! What I mean is… ahhh. Listen, both my parents are paediatricians, but my dad specializes in mental problems for kids. You shouldn't feel ashamed for whatever may be out of balance up here. It's a real problem in society. How are we supposed to be happy if our brain won't let us?"

Kusuo nods glumly. Touma regrets what he's said.

"I'm sorry. Forget what I said! I shouldn't be acting like a doctor…Hear me out, though. This is my dad's advice, too and I've been doing it when I'm having problems I can't deal with alone. First, think of a person you admire. They can be a fictional character; it doesn't matter. Then, close your eyes and imagine their face…"

Kusuo closes his eyes. Touma gives him a few seconds to internalize.

"… Ask yourself: what advice would they give you? Now, imagine them standing in front of you; what encouragement will they say? Think of—"

"It worked!" Kusuo stands up, staring at his hands like he's been magically cured. He may have been given how the wrinkles and fatigue from his face seem to evaporate instantly. "Touma, thank you! But how? Could it be…?"

"No, Kusuo, I'm not a psychic, aha…"

"Amazing," whispers Kusuo in awe. Touma smiles. Finally, he's back to his usual self. Touma didn't think he'd be able to help… No, he only gave him the idea. Kusuo helped himself out of his trouble.

"You must have an incredible imagination for it to work so well."

A smile, one somewhat enigmatic. "No. The person who helped me is incredible."

"Ohh! Can I ask who it is?"

"It's a secret."

"Can I get at least a hint?"

"They're great."

"That just a different word for 'incredible'… They're not dead, are they?"

"Nope."

"It's an anime character, isn't it?"

Kusuo chuckles, sitting back down to open his bento. "We should eat our lunch."

"Sneaky. Is it…me?"

His chopsticks pull back from his mouth so that he can look at Touma in the eyes and give him the most authentic response:

"No."