“And what proof do you have that I’m a kunoichi!?”
In stark contrast to my own complete certainty, Meiko still seemed fully intent on trying to bluff her way through the situation even now.
Though honestly, after reacting that dramatically, continuing to deny it felt a little unreasonable.
Then again…
perhaps “an utterly ordinary high school boy” truly wouldn’t notice even reactions that obvious.
According to Meiko’s lectures, even if a girl behaved in a way that practically screamed ‘I totally like you,’ one absolutely mustn’t notice.
That, apparently, was part of being “ordinary.”
Well, at the moment I was alone with Meiko.
There was no need to force myself to act “ordinary” here.
“I’m telling you, I’m not a ninja.”
“If you weren’t a ninja, then what exactly was that reaction supposed to be?”
“If you keep pushing this, I’m the one who’ll get torn limb from limb…”
“So the rules are that strict, huh?”
Apparently, having one’s ninja identity exposed was the kind of issue that could result in literal dismemberment.
Watching Meiko desperately try to cover herself despite being so painfully obvious made me feel slightly sorry for her.
As that thought crossed my mind, I quietly pulled a thousand-yen bill from my wallet.
“Here, Pochi. Speak honestly.”
“Woof! I’m a kunoichi!”
“Good girl. Honesty is important. Here, take your reward.”
“Yaaay!”
Meiko accepted the thousand-yen bill with a radiant smile—
then abruptly froze.
“T-This was an interrogation trap…”
“You should apologize to actual interrogation techniques.”
Honestly, it felt less like I’d set a trap and more like Meiko had sprinted headfirst into a cage before I’d even finished baiting it.
Watching her stand there motionless with the thousand-yen note still in hand, I nodded to myself.
As expected, Meiko truly was a modern-day kunoichi.
Which meant the hallucination’s information, however absurd it initially seemed, was highly likely to be accurate.
Having confirmed that much, I felt satisfied.
“Well then, shall we head to university?”
“Eh!?”
Meiko’s eyes widened again, blinking rapidly in disbelief at my suggestion.
“Um… aren’t you going to ask me anything?”
“Like what?”
“I mean, you just exposed me as a kunoichi, didn’t you? So shouldn’t there be, y’know… questions? Reactions? Something?”
Apparently, Meiko had expected her secret identity reveal to trigger a far more dramatic response.
But all I’d wanted to confirm was how trustworthy the hallucinations I’d been seeing since morning actually were.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Now that the hallucination claiming Meiko was a kunoichi had turned out to be true, I’d obtained the answer I wanted:
The hallucinations, while bizarre, were surprisingly reliable.
That concluded the matter.
“I only wanted confirmation. I have no intention of making a big deal out of it. So you should continue acting the same way you always have. Understood?”
“Y-Yes, sir…”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
If we stayed here talking any longer, we’d end up late for first period.
Leaving behind the still utterly bewildered Meiko, I started walking back the way we came.
Then abruptly stopped.
“Meiko.”
“Eh? A-Are you suddenly feeling curious after all?”
“Guide me back. I have no idea how to return from here.”
“Ah…”
Even afterward, Meiko kept sneaking nervous glances at my face as though trying to figure out what I was really thinking.
But I paid it little mind and continued toward the university.
Could it truly be considered “ordinary” for the childhood friend of “an utterly average college student you could find anywhere” to secretly be a ninja?
A difficult question.
But at this point, it wasn’t as though I could simply replace the “childhood friend” role in the setup.
After some consideration, I remembered Meiko passionately insisting in the past that “the childhood friend secretly being something extraordinary” was a legitimate pattern.
Therefore, I decided that settled the matter.
And so—
without being late, and while half-listening to a lecture I was now finally able to attend properly—
I found myself wondering how exactly I should deal with these hallucinations.
Seeing them unintentionally was unavoidable.
But being force-fed information I had no desire whatsoever to know was deeply troublesome.
──────
『Tachibana Issei』
Occupation: Heidan University Professor
Hair Volume: Beyond Saving
Wig: Third Generation
──────
I wanted to learn Modern Criticism from the professor.
I did not want to learn that his hair was a third-generation wig.
My father—currently overseas—had always told me, “Never mock another man’s hair.”
So I was trying my best not to think about it.
Unfortunately, just when I managed to forget, the hallucinations would pop back into view again, making the whole thing incredibly annoying.
The hallucinations also liked assigning strange evaluations to already-established friend groups around campus.
──────
『Friend Group B』
Friendship Level: 43%
Six-Month Continuation Rate: 64%
──────
Meaning there was roughly a one-third chance they’d disband within half a year.
What a strangely uncomfortable piece of information to learn.
Not that it had anything to do with me.
Though perhaps mixed-gender groups came with their own unique complications.
Yes.
At times, these hallucinations displayed information that resembled the future itself.
When it first told me how long the kettle would take to boil that morning, I thought perhaps it was merely calculating based on the amount of water and the strength of the flame.
But now it was clearly presenting events far beyond human prediction.
Well, it wasn’t as though I could intentionally control what I saw.
Nor did I particularly want to see these things.
There was little point getting emotionally invested in futures that weren’t even guaranteed.
My immediate concern was figuring out how to make the hallucinations stop altogether.
I had decided that throughout my years at this university, I would remain “an utterly ordinary college student you could find anywhere.”
The revelation that one of the key components required for that role—my “childhood friend”—was secretly a kunoichi had admittedly been unexpected.
But it wasn’t a problem.
This wasn’t the Sengoku period or the Edo era.
Surely by the twenty-first century, ninjas had long since blended into society.
In other words, all Japanese people were basically faint traces of ninja already.
Even if an occasionally stronger ninja appeared among them, that merely fell within the acceptable gradient.
Therefore, ninjas were ordinary.
Completely within the acceptable range for a perfectly normal childhood friend.
The trinity Meiko and I had constructed—
“An utterly ordinary college student,”
“Childhood friend,”
and “Best friend”—
remained intact.
And it would surely remain stable going forward.
Or at least…
that was what I believed.
──────
『Taketsuru Yuu』
72 Hours 32 Minutes 51 Seconds Until Summoned to Another World
──────
That belief lasted only until the moment I saw the hallucination hovering above Taketsuru—the classmate quietly attending the lecture beside me.
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