This was, without a doubt, the most agonizing school day Hoshimori Shion had ever endured.
One reason, of course, was the morning’s adorable ambush, when her beloved sister’s flying tackle had nearly squeezed the life out of her, leaving her lower back aching terribly.
The other reason was the present moment: she was compelled to pay close attention to her teacher’s lecture and diligently take notes.
Indeed, compelled.
As the Miko-sama of Hoshimori Shrine, Hoshimori Shion had been raised to uphold her promises, and thus she had agreed to take meticulous class notes for Shigure.
She had agreed wholeheartedly, much to Shigure’s delight.
The only problem was…
The Miko-sama of Hoshimori Shrine was, unequivocally, a terrible student.
‘What even are… what are trigonometric functions…? Sin… I remember that meaning ‘sin’ as in ‘transgression’… What are these numbers after it for…?’
Hoshimori Shion’s brain felt as though its CPU had utterly overloaded.
If the current state of her mind could be visualized, it would resemble a home computer crashing spectacularly after attempting to run a single game of Minesweeper.
“Hoshimori-san,” the math teacher, in the midst of explaining an example problem, suddenly called out Hoshimori Shion’s name.
This teacher perfectly fit Hoshimori Shion’s general impression of a math teacher: a middle-aged man with a few wrinkles on his face and a gleaming forehead that could reflect the brilliant summer sunlight, despite his claim of just turning thirty during his first class introduction.
Thus, Hoshimori Shion had firmly resolved never, ever to study mathematics again, whether in this game world or upon her return to the real world after completing the game.
The white-haired girl shot to her feet as if struck by lightning, clutching her notebook, and stared blankly at the blackboard.
“Um… here!”
“Hoshimori-san, don’t be nervous.
I was just surprised to see you paying attention so diligently for once.”
Hoshimori Shion could already feel a multitude of strange gazes fixed upon her.
The student at the next desk even let out a snicker.
“Take a look at this problem,” the math teacher said, his fingers, pale from chalk dust, pointing at the clear writing on the blackboard. “The example problem I just explained.”
Had Hoshimori Shion not known this was a math class, she likely would have tried to answer it with the logic used for English problems.
At that moment, Hoshimori Shion’s mind was even blanker than her smooth, white hair.
After a full twenty seconds of stunned silence, the girl’s crimson lips parted slightly.
“The answer is one… right?”
Hoshimori Shion closed her eyes, already picturing the inevitable lecture from the teacher about her lack of attention, followed by the relentless mockery of her classmates.
‘Ugh, how humiliating…’
“That’s correct, the answer to this problem is one.”
“What?” Hoshimori Shion nearly dropped her jaw in disbelief.
Based on her experiences before entering this game world, unless the teacher posing the question was exceptionally devious, the answer was usually a clear and straightforward number—something like one, zero, or one-half.
She hadn’t expected this principle to apply perfectly even within the game world…
“This problem was quite difficult, Hoshimori-san, and it’s truly surprising that you were able to answer it.
You’ve made significant progress!” the math teacher praised.
Hoshimori Shion scratched her head awkwardly, not daring to admit that she had, in fact, merely guessed.
“Look at those of you sitting in the back row!” The math teacher pointed to several students in the very back, known for silently ignoring the lessons. “If you just listen carefully, even Hoshimori-san can solve problems of this difficulty!”
‘Damn it! Wasn’t he practically insulting her?’ Hoshimori Shion nearly cursed aloud.
****
In the afternoon, with the day’s lessons concluded, came Hoshimori Shion’s favorite time: dismissal.
“So, Big Sister can’t come home with me today?” Ayane pouted, her schoolbag swinging wildly as if to vent her displeasure.
“If I were to go home with you, you wouldn’t get dinner until nine o’clock tonight,” Hoshimori Shion explained, gently ruffling her sister’s hair. “I’ll just drop off the notes and homework with Shigure and be right back.”
Ayane, softened by the touch, nestled into her sister’s embrace.
“Alright then, Big Sister, come back soon.
I’ll be hungry,” Ayane conceded, rubbing her head against Hoshimori Shion’s hand once more before turning and heading towards the shrine.
This small town boasted only one hospital, so even if Shigure hadn’t messaged Hoshimori Shion, she would have found it quickly.
The hospital itself was not large, yet the moment Hoshimori Shion pushed open its doors, she was assailed by an intensely pungent aroma of disinfectant.
Despite its modest size, the hospital was impeccably clean and tidy, its pale blue floors gleaming without a speck of dust.
Several nurses hurried past Hoshimori Shion, leaving behind a faint, unpleasant medicinal scent.
‘Inpatient ward…’
Hoshimori Shion murmured, scrolling through her phone, searching for the room number Shigure had provided.
She had messaged Shigure after class, but received no reply, suggesting Shigure was indeed quite busy caring for her grandmother.
‘This must be it,’ Hoshimori Shion declared, after about five minutes, having breathlessly climbed to the third-floor inpatient ward and located the room number Shigure had sent her.
A white wooden door, almost blending seamlessly with the white wall, bore the room number boldly inscribed in a vivid, almost blinding, crimson ink.
As Hoshimori Shion reached out, intending to push open the hospital room door, a sudden wave of chilling dread washed over her, causing her to shiver involuntarily.
‘An evil spirit…?’
‘This was the instinctive physical reaction she only experienced when an evil spirit was present.’
‘Were there evil spirits even in a hospital?’
Hoshimori Shion closed her eyes, allowing her senses to expand and spread outwards, concentrating her mind.
Clumps of black, like ink polluting clear water, dripped onto the surface, conspicuous and glaring.
The girl’s breathing grew heavier, and the sense of unease in her body became increasingly pronounced.
It felt as if… something was pressing down on her.
Her eyelids, too, grew heavier, and a creeping drowsiness began to invade Hoshimori Shion’s mind.
Just then, the door opened.
What greeted Hoshimori Shion’s eyes was a golden mushroom-cut hairstyle, soft and fluffy.
The afternoon sun poured in from behind her, casting a soft, golden-yellow halo around her hair, making it shimmer like crystal stones by a riverside in the sunlight.
Shigure’s expression shifted from surprise to delight in an instant, her smile in the sunlight even brighter than the sun itself.
“Um… Hoshimori-san, you’re here!” Shigure’s shyness couldn’t quite mask the joy in her voice.
She extended a hand, seemingly intending to take Hoshimori Shion’s, but upon contact, she recoiled as if she had touched something alien, quickly withdrawing it.
To ease Shigure’s nervousness, Hoshimori Shion offered a wide smile in return.
“Q-quick, please come in,” Shigure stammered, her small head darting around, momentarily at a loss for words, even forgetting to add her usual honorifics.
Though this wasn’t Shigure’s home, she ushered Hoshimori Shion inside as if welcoming a guest.
The hospital room was likewise not large, but it was as bright and clean as the hospital corridor outside.
An elderly grandmother, clad in a patient gown, lay on the bed in the center, a medical drip steadily falling, drop by drop.
Green plants on the windowsill danced gently with the sunlight and breeze, as if whispering, ‘Get well soon~’
Yet, for some unknown reason, the discomfort Hoshimori Shion felt had not diminished in the slightest.