"Hey."
She said it as we walked out of the school hall, casual but pointed.
"You said you were gonna investigate me," Setsuko continued.
I glanced at her, then at the evening sky. The sun was dipping low, spilling gold across the clouds. The breeze picked up, tugging at her hoodie and skirt. Her skirt rounded up in the wind, and I caught it reflexively.
"I can see some—" I started, then realized exactly what I was seeing.
She shrieked, crouched, and buried her face in her hands. "Uhhh, you're so annoying, Yutaka!"
"Yeah," I said, smiling faintly.
Her blush spread across her cheeks, hot and stubborn. She grabbed my arm, looking away, still flustered. And yet, she held me, guiding me forward as we walked.
"Setsuko," I said, "I think I know how your deal works. Y'know, what they call puberty syndrome."
She froze. Looked at me with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
"Uhh… really? You believe in that stuff?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No. Not particularly. But in your dilemma… who wouldn't?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she jumped lightly off the railing we'd been walking on, landing softly beside me. She looked at me, serious. I met her gaze with an aloof look.
"I'm a lazy guy, Setsuko. And a lonely one. I'd like it if you looked at me with affection now. If I must."
She blinked, then sighed softly. "I've been thinking… a lot more than usual. Which is already a bad sign."
"…Don't interrupt. I need to say this before I lose the thread."
She stayed silent. Let her words fill the space between us as we walked.
"At first," I continued, "I thought Paradoxes were just… emotional overload. Stress. Trauma. Unresolved feelings. Simple cause and effect. Something breaks inside, reality copies it. Clean. Logical."
"But it's not clean."
"It's messy. Inconsistent. The same level of pain doesn't always create the same level of distortion. Some people suffer quietly, and nothing happens. Others barely understand what they're feeling, and suddenly the world starts bending."
"…That bothered me."
"So I started thinking about timing instead. When do Paradoxes actually start appearing? Not in children. Not really. You don't hear about elementary school kids warping reality because they're sad their toy broke. And not adults either—not as often. By then, people are… settled. Or maybe just numb. But here? High school? …It's everywhere."
I exhaled softly. "…Every case we've seen. Every distortion. Every contradiction. They all come from people our age."
"And I asked myself why," I continued, her voice steady. "And I think… I finally get it. Paradoxes aren't just about emotions. They're about unstable identities. …Puberty."
"Yeah. That sounds stupid when I say it out loud. Like some cheap psychology article. But think about it. This is the stage where everything is contradicting itself at once. You want to be seen, but you're terrified of being judged. You want to be independent, but you still depend on others. You feel things stronger than ever, but you don't have the words to explain any of it. Your body changes. Your thoughts change. Even your sense of self isn't stable. It's like… your mind is constantly splitting in two directions. And Paradoxes… are exactly that. A contradiction that can't resolve."
"So what happens when your entire identity is built on contradictions you don't understand yet?" I whispered slowly so she could keep up with my yapping
"…It leaks."
"Into reality."
She nodded, letting the weight of it sink in. "Children don't create Paradoxes because they're simple. What they feel is what they are. Adults don't create as many because they've already… chosen their contradictions. Or buried them. But us? We're in the middle. Half-formed. Half-decided. Half-honest. Walking contradictions. So when something hits too hard—when a feeling becomes too much to hold—it doesn't just stay inside. It spills out. And reality… listens. That's why Paradoxes look the way they do. Not just pain. Confusion. Identity breaking apart in real time. …They just don't know who they're supposed to be. And the world reflects that uncertainty back at them."
"…Which means…"
"…We're not just dealing with emotions. We're dealing with people who haven't finished becoming themselves yet. And somehow… that's a lot more dangerous than I thought."
We kept walking, our shadows stretching long across the street as the evening deepened. Setsuko's expression softened, though a tired edge lingered at the corners of her eyes. Hunger pulled her attention next.
"I'm hungry," she said quietly. "But I can't order. People can't see me. They can't see me at all."
I glanced at the nearest café. "Then let's go there. We'll improvise."
Inside, she hovered at the counter, invisible to the barista, ignored by the other customers. Her eyes flicked to me, frustrated. "I can't do this alone."
"You're not alone," I said. "We'll figure this out together. Puberty syndrome, identity paradox… whatever you want to call it."
We found a corner, and I unpacked the food I had with me. She blinked at the smell, then muttered, "…Is that food?"
"Yes," I said. "But I guess if you're hungry, you can have some. On one condition."
Her eyes narrowed. "…Condition?"
"You'll take a bath in my place. But I get to see you in a towel. That's all."
Her eyes went wide, red blooming across her cheeks. "Huuuuh? No way! It's called sexual harassment, you jerk!"
I sighed. "Worth a shot. But come over anyway—you reek."
She huffed, pouted, then let me lead her home. The walk was quiet, the evening breeze tugging at her hoodie.
When we arrived, she hesitated at the door. "…You live alone?"
"Yes. Parents died in a car crash. Grandma passed nine years ago. I manage."
She tilted her head. "Brutal. Try to sugarcoat your words from time to time."
"Why should I?" I asked, blank. "I should be okay with the truth. That's the reason you're in this mess."
Her eyes widened slightly. Then she smiled faintly. I felt a pang of… something. Responsibility? Relief?
Inside my apartment, small and neat, I set the food on the table while she glanced around, still cautious.
"Only boys' shampoo," I said. "Use whatever you find. If you see my underwear, just hang it on the steel bar."
She shrieked, spotting it instantly, tossing it out the window. I smirked.
Five minutes later, she emerged, smelling clean, her cheeks faintly pink. "…That was nice. Looks like I'll be taking showers here for a while."
"Always welcome," I said, giving a thumbs-up.
She looked away. "Hmph. Let's go. We'll be late."
And so we exited, stepping back out of the building together.