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The Every-Other-Day Girlfriend Chapter 1: "The Visit"

2025年6月5日 19:55

"The one who killed her was not me."

Synopsis

Appearing before psychiatric evaluator Togo Takayama is Saeko Hayama, a mother detained for the murder of her four-year-old daughter.
Saeko claims, "I didn't do it," and insists she is a person with a split personality that alternates every other day.
On the day of the murder, she claims it was "the me who doesn't speak" who was in control.

Takayama begins his analysis based on the submitted diary and records.
Who exactly is this "other me" that Saeko speaks of?
The written words, the recounted memories, and the lost life.
From the gaps between them, a single "truth" begins to emerge.

■ Chapter 1: "The Visit" ①

There is no justice or comfort in the work of psychiatric evaluation.
All that exists is a legal assessment: "Did this person have the capacity for responsibility?"
That is precisely why I must remain calm. There should be no room for emotion—or so I thought.

My fingertips trembled ever so slightly as I stared at the photo in the file.
A black-and-white printed headshot. An expressionless woman is looking back at me.
Saeko Hayama, thirty-three years old. The victim is her daughter—four-year-old Nozomi.

"My personality changes every other day."
That was the testimony given in her statement at the time of arrest.
Furthermore, Saeko reportedly said, "The one who can speak is the one who isn't here today."
In other words, she remains silent on even-numbered days and only speaks on odd-numbered days.
She claims that the "non-speaking personality" killed her daughter.

I closed my pen and shut the file.
Whether it is a lie or the truth, determining that is my job.
A psychiatric evaluation of a suspect. A diagnosis not as a doctor, but as a witness.
And today, I will meet the person herself—Saeko Hayama.

◇

The iron door opens.
The psychiatric ward's visitation room was a simple, square space. White walls, with only the sound of a clock echoing.
Saeko was already seated in a chair. There were no handcuffs; instead, restraint belts were attached to the legs and back of the chair.

Even though we were meeting for the first time, I felt like I had met her somewhere before.
It wasn't her features, but a sense of déjà vu regarding "something" deep in her eyes.
I set the file aside and stated my name.

"I am Togo Takayama. I will be in charge of your evaluation."

Saeko slowly raised her face. Her expressionless eyes, set in gaunt cheeks, stared fixedly at me. Her hair was disheveled, and there were no traces of makeup. There was something unfathomable dwelling in her gaze.
Yet, the expression on her face was—surprisingly composed.
As if she were acting out a role.

"...The me of today is the one who can speak."

That was her first utterance.

■ Chapter 1: "The Visit" ②

"...The me of today is the one who can speak."

It was a quiet voice. Neither high nor low, a voice that didn't resonate.
But those words instantly changed the air in the room.

"I see," I replied. "What do you mean by 'the one who can speak'?"

Saeko lowered her eyes slightly, then slowly tilted her head.
"I change every other day. The me of yesterday was silent. No matter what I was asked, I couldn't answer. ...But the me of today can speak."

"Are you saying there is another personality inside you?"

"...Yes, there is."

Her response was not immediate.
It didn't seem like she was searching for words, nor did it seem like she was lying.
She was simply cautious. I couldn't yet tell if it was an act or her true feelings.

"Do you use names to distinguish between these personalities?"

Saeko narrowed her eyes.
"I don't know. But 'the me who can't speak' is watching me. From far away, all the time."

"Are you saying that the non-speaking personality is the one who killed your daughter, Nozomi?"

Silence.
Saeko slowly nodded.
"I... have no memory of it. But, perhaps... that is the case."

"Perhaps?"

"My hands were... stained with blood. When I came home that day, it was already..."

Mid-sentence, Saeko closed her mouth.
She leaned back deeply into the chair. Her face turned slightly to the side, avoiding my gaze.

"Doctor, you think I'm... lying, don't you?"

"I haven't made a judgment yet," I replied. "I came to meet you in order to make one."

Saeko nodded slightly. Her mouth seemed to smile for a moment, but it vanished immediately.

I felt as if the sound of the clock was echoing from somewhere beyond the wall.
Tick, tick, tick—each time, a sense of unease stirred deep in my chest.

"Do you think the current you is the 'real you'?"

When I asked, Saeko just muttered a small "I don't know" while staring at the ceiling.

For some reason, I felt something akin to relief at that answer.
The honesty of not knowing. Or perhaps the sight of someone living while carrying doubt.
It didn't seem like an act; it felt like her true feelings were mixed in.

However, the fact that I couldn't distinguish between acting and true feelings could also mean I was being "set up."
I carefully changed the subject.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about today?"

Saeko shifted only her gaze back to me.
Then, she took a notebook out of the bag at her side.
"Please, look at this. It's my diary. I write in it every day. I haven't missed a single day."

There were faint scuff marks on the cover of the notebook. Proof that it had been opened repeatedly.
I took the notebook and began to look through it.

The dates were lined up almost perfectly.
But there was something strange, a sense of discomfort there.

■ Chapter 1: "The Visit" ③

The notebook was a B6-sized ring binder. The cover was worn, and the corners were frayed.
There wasn't a single page without a date. The text was written densely, with little margin.

—June 1st.
—June 2nd.
—June 3rd.

It certainly wasn't "every other day." It was written every single day.

But, as soon as I turned the page, I noticed a strange inconsistency.
—The handwriting changed depending on the day.

June 1st and 3rd had rounded, soft characters.
June 2nd and 4th had thin, hard strokes with strong vertical lines.
It was as if different personalities were taking turns writing the diary.

"Is this also proof of your 'personality differences'?"

When I asked that, Saeko smiled faintly.
"Yes. I write it so that anyone can tell. As proof."

"So that anyone can tell."
In those words, I felt a slight scent of intent.
It wasn't that it "happened naturally," but that she "made it so others would think so."
That is a conscious action.

I flipped through a few more pages.
The content was somewhat detached.
The day she played with Nozomi. Being scolded in the kitchen of the bento shop. Interactions with a male customer named Yuji.
It wasn't cheerful, but it wasn't gloomy either. The emotions were strangely suppressed.

That, conversely, bothered me.
The emotions were "uninterrupted." Even though the handwriting alternated, the flow of the written emotions was unnaturally consistent.
The shifts in joy, anger, and confusion were not disrupted by the differences in personality.

—Are the personalities really switching?

Just as that doubt began to form in my mind, Saeko spoke quietly.

"Even if the handwriting is different, the heart might be one. Maybe I'm just writing it that way."

"Is that what you think?"

"...I don't know. But I hope that's the case."

If that were the case—
Her tone was as if she were wishing to be forgiven for something.

When I was about to close the page, my eyes stopped on a certain date.
June 5th.

At the end of that page, there was this sentence:

—Today is a day I can speak. If you can read this, Doctor, that is enough for me.

I looked up.
Saeko's gaze was fixed just beyond my face.
Not at me, but at something "beyond," staring intently.

■ Chapter 1: "The Visit" ④

"Today is a day I can speak. If you can read this, Doctor, that is enough for me."—

When I finished reading that sentence, I held my breath for a moment.
The lingering emotion of it seeped out from the letters.
However, I couldn't clearly tell which "personality" it belonged to.

No, before that—are there really "two" personalities?
Handwriting, way of speaking, choice of words. Those can be reproduced even if they are fabricated.
But the "flow of emotion" does not split so easily.
Saeko's diary certainly has fluctuations. But it didn't read like a dialogue between different personalities; it read like a single human being writing while struggling with the "duality within themselves."
I quietly closed the notebook.

"Thank you. I'll hold onto this diary."

Saeko said nothing and nodded slightly.

"Lastly, let me ask you one thing."

I straightened my posture and looked straight at Saeko.

"Do you remember what you did?"
Saeko did not answer that question immediately.

She just frowned slightly and lowered her eyes.
After a few seconds of silence, she murmured—
"If I remembered, I don't think I could have gone on living."

That voice was utterly quiet.

It wasn't an act. But it wasn't the truth, either.
It sounded like words "prepared to be able to speak" of her sadness, intended for someone else to hear.
I stood up and bowed slightly.

"I'll come back tomorrow."

"...Doctor."

I was suddenly called back.

"Yes?"

Saeko kept her head tilted as she stared at me.

But I felt that her gaze was passing right through me.
It was as if she were looking at the wall at the back of the visitation room, or somewhere far away—as if she were looking at a different world.
"Doctor... have you ever forgiven anyone?"

That question pierced deep into my chest. Before I could even search for an answer, an announcement signaling the end of the visitation time played.

An announcement signaling the end of the visitation time played from the room's speaker.
I heard the nurse opening the door behind me.
"...See you tomorrow."

I left the visitation room, leaving only those words behind.

When the sound of the door closing echoed behind me, Saeko's question remained lingering in my mind.
—Doctor, have you ever forgiven anyone?

For whom were those words intended?

For herself? For her daughter? Or—for me?
That night, I read the diary again.

And for the first time, I felt that the word "you" that Saeko wrote
seemed as if it were addressed to someone specific.

Continue here

★ I am entering this in the 2025 Creative Awards Mystery Novel Category.
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Link for 2025 Creative Awards Mystery Novel Category entry

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