Absentmindedly, I flipped through the deck of playing cards, hoping that the sight of the pictures would trigger some memory in my mind. What did I associate with the cards? Why did I feel such a strong connection to the Jack of Hearts but not to the others? What did a playing card have in common with a meteorite impact? Nothing. At least nothing I could think of at that moment. And what role did that Chishiya play, the one I had apparently seen in my dream?

Was it perhaps not a clue about my past, but rather a vision? Did it mean that Chishiya would be my Jack of Hearts? I giggled at the thought and felt my cheeks start to burn. Just his deep, striking voice had been enough to make him linger in my mind and make me feel like a lovesick teenager again.

And yet, I wasn’t even sure if he really existed. Had I fallen for a figment of my imagination, or was this Chishiya actually out there somewhere, destined to be found by me? After all, he had mentioned that I had forgotten him. But how was it possible that I couldn’t remember someone like him?

I sighed theatrically and buried my face deep in my pillow. Just seconds later, however, I raised my head again and furrowed my brows. Had I just caught a faint scent of tea tree oil?

I turned around quickly, and for a millisecond, I thought I was in an apartment instead of a hospital room. And then, a flash of an image appeared in my head—a young man with light hair and a white jacket lying on a futon. His left arm, wrapped in a bandage, was stretched far away from him, and he had a damp cloth on his forehead. He was looking right at me.

Are you still stalking me?

The sentence appeared so abruptly in my head that it almost startled me. Somewhat unsettled, I looked around the room, but as expected, no one was there. Yet the voice had sounded so close, as if it had been right beside me. Was I slowly losing my mind, or had it really been a memory that I had just seen?

Why did these fragments of thought randomly appear in my mind as they pleased? Was my brain expecting me to piece together this puzzle on my own? A few more clues would have been nice. Anything. But instead, it only grew more opaque with each instance.

One thing I was relatively sure of, however: the person I had seen was Chishiya. Everything somehow revolved around him. So perhaps the Jack of Hearts did too.

Startled, I looked toward the door when I heard the handle being pressed down. Usagi had returned from her outing. She limped to her bed and then dropped onto it, visibly exhausted.

“You were gone quite a while,” I noted, casting a quick glance at the clock.

Usagi smiled, and for the first time, I felt that her smile was truly genuine.

“Yes, I went for a walk outside.”

“And? How did it go?”

“Great.”

“I really admire your endurance. I wouldn’t have lasted that long.”

“I had a bit of help,” she replied, smiling dreamily again. What had gotten into her all of a sudden? Just a short walk in the park, and she seemed like a completely new person. Maybe I should try that too...

Was the air outside today filled with happiness hormones?

The later it got, the more nervous I became as the meeting approached. I was pinning all my hopes on this evening and wishing it would bring me some new insights. My greatest hope, however, was that Chishiya would show up and help me fill in the gaps in my memory.

The more time passed, the more I felt like I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t find out soon. My brain no longer had room for trivial thoughts. Everything revolved around the countless question marks that were increasingly giving me a headache.

I tried to distract myself by reading some manga, but it wasn’t very effective. Around 4 p.m., I was finally called for my scheduled examination. I had to endure a few more medical tests. My lungs were X-rayed, and another blood sample was taken to check my current lab values.

Finally, I had a conversation with the attending doctor, who explained to me that my values had surprisingly improved quickly. Nonetheless, I was to stay in the hospital for a few more days under supervision, as I still needed regular oxygen therapy to bring my levels back to normal.

To my relief, I was finally done with all the examinations and allowed to return to my room. Usagi was flipping through a magazine about mountaineering when I sat back down on my bed.

“Where’d you get that from?” I asked curiously.

“There’s a kiosk on the ground floor.”

“Oh, I need to check that out too. Though I’d prefer books.”

“I think there were some of those too.”

“Great. Maybe they’ll have titles like Remembering Made Easy or Sorting Thoughts for Dummies,” I quipped with a cynical tone.

Usagi laughed.

“Well, good luck finding those.”

“Do you plan on doing that? I mean, mountaineering?”

“I already have. But yes, I plan to do it again. I just need to get fit enough first and train for a while.”

“Wow. You’re so incredibly driven,” I said, impressed. “I wish I had as much passion for something as you do for mountaineering.”

She furrowed her brows.

“I thought you liked drawing?”

“I do, but I haven’t worked diligently on a project in a long time. I start something and then quickly lose enthusiasm. Sometimes, it’s hard for me to finish things to the bitter end, you know?”

She nodded understandingly.

“Well, maybe you just haven’t found the right motivation yet. Something to drive you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I murmured thoughtfully, letting myself fall back into my pillow. Whatever that kind of motivation was supposed to look like, I wished I had it...

Since neither Usagi nor I were in great shape and needed to locate the meeting venue, we set off for Building F—a psychiatric ward—half an hour early. Usagi seemed unusually lively, so different from the day before, and I began to wonder what had caused this change, especially since she hadn’t initially been keen on this meeting.

But now, she was beaming and had even made an effort to dress up for the occasion, which surprised me.

“Did something happen during your walk this morning?” I asked casually as we stood side by side in the elevator.

“Happen? Well...” She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding my gaze.

“It’s just that you seem so carefree. One might think you’re in love,” I teased.

Usagi’s cheeks turned bright red. Had I hit the bullseye?

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve got your eyes on a doctor?” I asked, astonished.

“Oh, no... not at all. He’s just...”

She fell silent, and I grinned in amusement.

“He’s just... what?” I prompted curiously.

Usagi lowered her head to hide her face with her hair.

“...just a patient. He was also in Shibuya on that day, like us, and he wanted to come to this meeting,” she muttered softly.

"Now that explains a lot."

Usagi simply nodded, clearly feeling uncomfortable talking about it.

"If he's coming just because of you, that's definitely a good sign."

"I don’t know about that. But I think he wasn’t against seeing me again."

We exited the elevator and headed toward the outdoor area. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of light-colored hair and abruptly turned around. Standing by the elevator was someone with shoulder-length platinum-blond hair, waiting. My heart began to pound loudly in my chest.

"Wait a sec..." I said to Usagi, immediately turning back.

As the elevator doors opened, I instinctively tried to move faster despite my limp, but I realized I wouldn’t make it in time.

"Chishiya!" I called out, panic rising in my voice as I hurried down the hallway. Everyone around me stared in bewilderment, but I couldn’t care less. I grabbed his arm firmly to stop him, and he turned around quickly. My face froze as I found myself looking into the face of a young woman with platinum-blond hair, clearly a pale northern European. She glared at me, her expression full of disdain, and pulled her arm away indignantly.

"Oops... uh..." I laughed awkwardly. "I must have forgotten my meds today. These hallucinations, you know..."

I laughed again and mockingly tapped my forehead, then turned away, thoroughly embarrassed. When I returned to Usagi, she was trying her hardest to stifle a laugh.

"What was that all about?" she chuckled, clearly amused.

"Just a mix-up..." I muttered, my cheeks glowing with shame.

"Who’s this Chishiya, hmm?"

I sighed deeply.

"I wish I knew... but I think he’s haunting me."

"From where I’m standing, it looks more like you’re the one haunting him."

"That’s not how it is..."

Feeling a little deflated, I continued walking with Usagi. I could have sworn I had seen him, but maybe I really was hallucinating. One of the nurses had told me recently that hallucinations were a symptom of smoke inhalation. Perhaps the dream I had last night was something similar.

Had I been imagining Chishiya all along?

When we finally found the room where the meeting was to take place, I opened the door with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. A few people were already there, though several chairs remained unoccupied. Scanning the room, I couldn’t spot anyone who even remotely resembled the man in my drawing.

However, one of the participants was a small boy who waved at me with a curious smile. Hesitantly, I waved back, thinking he looked familiar. Didn’t he go to the school where I worked? Usagi and I sat down next to each other in the circle of chairs.

A kind-looking woman in her mid-forties with a bob haircut and glasses made eye contact with us and greeted us briefly. She appeared to be the therapist leading the session.

I noticed Usagi giving a shy smile to a young man with messy black hair. It was clear he was the patient she had mentioned earlier. He seemed utterly focused on her, and I felt a pang of envy. Deep down, I wished I could get that kind of undivided attention from a man I was interested in.

Unfortunately, the man I was most interested in might not even exist outside my imagination. This realization made me laugh bitterly, though only inwardly.

The boy sitting almost directly across from me stared at me intently without blinking once. Suddenly, he slipped off his chair and walked over to me. He stopped right in front of me and gave a small bow.

"Good afternoon, Izumi-sensei," he said politely.

"Uh, hello... You go to Nishi-Toyama Elementary School, don’t you?" I asked.

"Yes, that’s correct. So, you’ve also made it to the other side."

I blinked in confusion.

"The other side? I don’t quite understand..."

He sighed and hung his head slightly.

"So, you don’t remember what happened while we were gone?"

"Gone? What exactly do you mean?" I asked, frowning.

"None of you adults remember," he said sadly, glancing briefly at Usagi before turning back to me. "That’s a shame. I was hoping I could finally finish reading your comic. I really wanted to know what happened to Chishiya."

Startled, I watched him shuffle back to his seat.

Chishiya? Did he just say Chishiya? And how did he know I drew comics? I couldn’t remember ever mentioning it at school, especially not to a student.

The woman sitting to my right leaned over slightly toward me.

"He said something similar to me earlier and acted as if he knew me. But I’ve never seen him before," she whispered.

"That’s pretty creepy," I replied, though I couldn’t muster much else to say. If this boy knew about Chishiya, then maybe I wasn’t crazy after all.

Our attention shifted to the door as another person entered the room. For a moment, I was taken aback by his appearance. The man’s face was marred by severe burn scars, and like Usagi and me, he had difficulty walking. Without any assistance, he shuffled over to a chair and casually slumped into it.

"Yo," he greeted with a nod to the room. When I looked at his face, an uncomfortable chill ran down my spine. I was certain it wasn’t because of his disfigurement—it was something else.

His gaze met mine, and he grinned almost devilishly.

"Well, well, the Shibuya chick is here too."

I looked around, thinking he must mean someone else, but his gaze was unmistakably directed at me.

"You mean... me?" I asked, perplexed.

"Yeah, we saw each other right before the district blew up. Don’t you remember?"

I racked my brain, but I couldn’t recall anything specific. However, his face triggered a vague sense of unease in me, as though my subconscious recognized him. Even his voice provoked a strange antipathy I couldn’t logically explain.

"I have no clue who you are," I replied coolly.

"Of course not," he said dismissively. "That was before my epic transformation into Sexiest Man Alive."

A few people around the room chuckled at his joke, but I couldn’t bring myself to like him.

Shortly after, a few more people joined our group, bringing the total to ten, including the therapist. However, Chishiya was not among them, which, admittedly, I had half-expected. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a deep disappointment. I had been so hopeful to meet him and find out who he really was and why he haunted my thoughts. Unfortunately, the woman named Hikari wasn’t present either, though she hadn’t struck me as someone who would feel the need for a session like this.

"Looks like no one else is coming," said Moriko, the therapist, smiling warmly at the group, which consisted of two men, six women, and the little boy. "To be honest, I had hoped for a larger turnout, but it seems that many have already been discharged. Even so, I’m grateful to see all of you here today. My name is Yamada Moriko, as you know from the invitation. Given the inquiries we’ve received about therapeutic support following the tragic events in Shibuya, I thought it might be helpful for everyone to come together and share their experiences."

She paused to make eye contact with everyone in the room.

"You all have something in common: you witnessed and survived a horrific event that day. Something no one should ever have to experience. Some of you may have even lost loved ones or friends. It’s always painful to be the one left behind. The question of ‘Why me?’ is one that none of us can fully answer. However, we can support each other, strengthen one another, and work together to move forward. But before that can happen, we need to process what happened—both in our minds and our hearts. That’s where many of us struggle. Today, I want you to have the chance to speak freely about your experiences. Who you are, why you came here, what you’ve been through, and how you’ve coped. Feel free to talk about anything on your mind. And if you don’t feel like talking, that’s okay too. You can just listen. The most important thing is that we respect one another, avoid judgment, and let everyone have their say. So, who would like to start?"

She looked around the room expectantly. A tense silence settled over us, as no one wanted to go first. Hesitantly, someone raised their hand. It was Usagi’s new acquaintance, the young man with messy hair.

"Please, go ahead," Moriko encouraged him. He nodded, looking nervous.

"My name is Arisu Ryohei, and I’m 25 years old," he began, smiling awkwardly. "I… uh, don’t usually attend things like this, but I thought it might help me deal with my guilt. Two of my best friends died in the disaster. My brother says it’s normal to feel this way—to have survivor’s guilt, I mean. But I can’t help wondering if it wouldn’t have been better if I had died instead of them. At least they were trying to make something of their lives, while I’ve just been drifting aimlessly."

"Perhaps this was a wake-up call to change things, Arisu. What do you think?" Moriko asked gently.

He nodded. "Yeah, I’ve thought about that too. But I don’t know if I deserve this second chance."

"I believe everyone deserves a second chance," Moriko said with warmth. "It takes a lot of courage to change your life overnight. Sometimes it takes a significant event to shake us awake. Even in the face of tragedy, there’s always something positive we can take away—even if it’s small. It helps us move forward instead of giving up. Do you want to add anything else, Arisu?"

"No… not right now," he said, shaking his head.

"That’s perfectly fine. Is there anyone else who’d like to share next?" Moriko asked, looking around the room.

Nervously, I raised my hand.

"Wonderful," she said, gesturing toward me with an encouraging smile.

I hadn’t really planned what to say, but if I didn’t speak now, I was sure I’d burst from the tension.

"Hello," I began, folding my hands tightly in my lap. "I’m Izumi Tsuki, 24 years old, and an aspiring elementary school teacher. I was in Shibuya that day—alone, I think. My problem is that I can’t remember anything about what happened. It’s like my brain has blocked it out. But something inside me can’t stop thinking about it... because I feel like I’ve forgotten something very important—something I need to remember. It’s driving me crazy that I don’t know. Sometimes I see things—or people—that feel familiar, but I don’t know why or where from. At the same time, I’m scared to remember because I don’t know how it will affect me."

"It’s not unusual to forget traumatic events, and I understand your frustration," Moriko said compassionately. "But perhaps your psyche isn’t ready for the truth just yet. The human mind has mechanisms to protect us from breaking under the weight of pain. If you truly want to recover these memories, hypnosis could be a helpful tool. While it’s not guaranteed to work, it might support your efforts."

I nodded absently. Hypnosis. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

"Would you like to add anything else, Izumi?" she asked.

I shook my head, still lost in thought. Perhaps hypnosis was my only chance to piece together the truth and finally understand the connection between Chishiya and the Jack of Hearts.

"Then I suppose it's my turn," rasped the arrogant man with the scars on his face. "You can call me Niragi—or Freddy Krueger, if you prefer. I'm here because it's boring as hell to rot away in that damn hospital room. Plus, I couldn't stand staring at my flawless-looking roommate’s face any longer. Sure, he’s might be more handsome, but let’s be real: I’m still the hotter one. I wanted to bring him along as proof, but he wasn’t into this whole ‘pretend self-pity’ thing. His words, not mine. Before I became sexiest man alive, I was kind of an asshole. But… when I woke up, I had these crazy visions. Maybe a near-death experience, you know? Like that famous light at the end of the tunnel—only more intense. I was in another place, watching myself doing all the things I’d always wanted to do. You know, getting revenge on the people who wronged me and living without any consequences. When I woke up, though, it didn’t feel as good as I thought it would. It was crazy—I almost died, and I started wondering why someone like me even got a second chance. And I think I’ve figured it out now: the world wanted to make me a better man. And here I am—Mister Awesome 2.0, improved and upgraded."

An awkward silence filled the room after he finished speaking. Then someone burst out laughing uncontrollably. It was the woman sitting to my right.

"Sorry," she whispered after regaining her composure.

Niragi grinned triumphantly. For a moment, I found myself admiring his unshakable confidence, considering what he had been through. Perhaps he wasn’t as awful as I’d initially thought. Still, I struggled to get a read on him.

The woman next to me, Suzuki Mei, seemed to find Niragi quite appealing. She also shared her story shortly after.

The only person who remained silent throughout the entire session was the little boy. He seemed to have come just to listen rather than to speak. His earlier comments still echoed in my mind, though. It was as if he had somehow known I’d lost my memories. But how could that be possible?

As the session ended, we exchanged phone numbers in case anyone wanted to meet up again after being discharged.

Usagi and I headed back to our room together, just as the night curfew was about to begin.

"You seem a little unsatisfied," Usagi remarked after a while.

"Mhmm, yeah. I didn’t learn what I came here for," I admitted.

"You mean you still don’t know who this Chishiya is?"

I nodded dejectedly.

"Yeah. It’s really starting to get to me. Maybe I should seriously consider hypnosis."

"Do you think that would even work?" she asked skeptically.

"I don’t know. But isn’t it better than doing nothing?"

"You know, Izumi, I think I’ve felt something similar to what you’re describing," she said, looking thoughtful.

I turned to her curiously.

"Really? Like what?"

"I mean when I ran into Arisu earlier today. It was almost like… we knew each other from somewhere. And he felt the same way. It was so strange."

"Are you serious?" I asked, completely taken aback. "And you’re only telling me this now?"

"I thought it wasn’t significant. I figured it was just my imagination. But how could we both imagine the same thing?"

I let out a relieved sigh and leaned against the elevator wall.

"Maybe there’s a chance I’m not crazy after all…"