Some Kind of Syndrome

The windmill doesn't turn. That's because I'm stopping it with my magic.

It's a form of training. From the opposite direction of the wind, I apply magic power—or more accurately, the waves generated by magic power—equal to the force of the wind. I must not get the direction wrong, nor can I miscalculate the force. By properly adjusting my magic, I make the windmill, which should be turning in the wind, stand still as if it were in a vacuum. That is the training.

"Wind-Stilling." It is the elementary skill that we mages are first required to master when we set our hearts on that path.

"I used to think about things like that all the time back then."

When I said this, Ayatsuki-sensei laughed cheerfully with a glass in her hand and drank as if to egg me on, saying, "'Wind-Stilling' is so cool." She set down her empty glass and looked at me with a flushed face.

"No, but that's just what nerdy middle school boys are like. I think I had a special skill, too."
"Were you a wielder of dark flames?"
"Exactly. Pretending to be human, but actually being the seventh prince of the demon world."
"Oh, that's interesting."
"I just thought of that while saying it."
"Like, you can't hope for the throne, but all royalty must participate in a program to learn about human society as a formality."
"A program to learn in advance about the human world we are going to rule, right?"
"Exactly. And then you make friends or fall in love, and you start to develop feelings for humans."
"But you're actually a demon prince."
"While that's happening, the succession struggle in the demon world becomes intense, and through some twist of fate, the seventh prince, our protagonist, gets pulled into the talk of royal succession."
"Wow, that's great. Hayate-sensei, can I use that for my next work?"

She lifted her glass again in excitement, then remembered it was empty. Ayatsuki-sensei asked the staff for a refill and let out a satisfied breath.

"No, that's no good. The motor in my head has started spinning. I won't be able to sleep tonight because of this."
"Do you want to go home and start writing?"
"No, no, no, I'm finally here with Hayate-sensei."
"Then let's flesh it out here."
"If I get any more ideas from you, Hayate-sensei, I won't be able to publish it under just my name."
"Then, let's say it's on you tonight, Ayatsuki-sensei."
"Isn't that perfect?"

After that, our imaginations ran wild with talk of the connection to the first prince, the existence of pro-human and anti-human factions in the demon world, and the burden of using magic in a human body. Before we knew it, it was closing time, and when we stepped outside, the heat of the day had subsided, and the weather had turned somewhat chilly.

The wind hitting my rolled-up sleeves felt pleasant against my flushed body.

"Man, that was fun."
"We really got into it, didn't we?"
"What are we doing at our age? Haha."

We are still, forever, suffering from eighth-grader syndrome.

Saying this, Ayatsuki-sensei laughed self-deprecatingly. A ripple of unease stirred in my chest. I first met Ayatsuki-sensei at a publisher's party, and today was only our second time meeting. In my normal state, I would still be hesitant to step that far in.
However,

However,

"Don't say ridiculous things."

If I let Ayatsuki-sensei's words slide by like this, I felt as though our lively conversation and the smiles we shared today would be rendered meaningless, so I retorted in a strong tone before I could stop myself.

"We are writers. Eighth-grader syndrome? Isn't that a given?"

I have no use for those who have been 'cured.'
You struggle and struggle, think you've recovered, only for it to flare up again.
Only those who have steeled themselves to live with it for the rest of their lives should come at me.

"Right?"

I stared straight at Ayatsuki-sensei. Her blank expression took a few seconds to twist into joy, and eventually, it transformed into a look as if she were savoring it.

I agree.

In front of the subway entrance. I watch Dr. Ayatsuki walk down the stairs after we promise to drink together again. I turn on my heel and head toward the JR station in the opposite direction.

I continue walking.

The wind does not stop.