「聖痕（Stigmata）」
第1話 入れ墨？アザ？皮膚病？
https://x.gd/TAG4w
難しい……
THE STIGMATA
CHAPTER 1: TATTOO? CONTUSION? DERMATITIS?
Kimiko Jinguji, a twenty-seven-year-old systems engineer at a leading Tokyo AI firm, rose from her bed and stepped into the shower. As the water cascaded over her, she froze. On the delicate skin of her right inner forearm, a cryptic anomaly had manifested.
She scrubbed at it violently with her polyester exfoliating towel, but the mark remained indelible. It was not dirt. It was a series of four parallel lines, approximately ten centimeters in length, comprised of characters she had never seen before. To her untrained eye, the script bore a haunting resemblance to Arabic calligraphy. She ran her fingers over the area. The skin was smooth, unbroken. It felt like a tattoo, yet it possessed the flush of a bruise.
Kimiko stepped out of the bathroom, adrenaline spiking. She immediately initiated a security sweep of her apartment.
The front door was bolted, the security chain taut. The window leading to the veranda was locked. She checked the closet and the toilet—standard hiding spots in a compact Tokyo apartment. Empty. She was alone.
Impossible, she thought. Unless someone drugged me last night and inked me while I was comatose.
She cycled through logical possibilities, but the pathology made no sense. She had no history of allergies. She knew that adult-onset allergies could trigger sudden physiological changes, but she had consumed nothing out of the ordinary yesterday. Her diet had been routine. No exotic ingredients. No toxins.
Focus, she commanded herself. First, document the evidence.
Clad only in a towel, she sat at her dining table and engaged her smartphone camera. She snapped over a dozen high-resolution images from various angles. Zooming in on the screen, she analyzed the pixels. This was no random rash or chaotic bruising. These were symbols.
Why is there text surfacing on my skin? Why now?
Kimiko opened a browser and searched for dermatology clinics near her office. Fate, it seemed, was efficient; the "Moroboshi Clinic—Dermatology and Allergology" was located on the third floor of her own company’s building. She secured an online appointment for 9:30 A.M.
She fired off a message to the company group chat, notifying her superior, Hitoshi Suezawa, that she would be arriving late due to a medical appointment. She cc’d her colleagues on the AI development project.
The replies were instantaneous. Suezawa: If you’re unwell, take the day. You have paid leave accrued, don't you? Keiko Takasugi: Take the day off! Rest! Don’t push yourself!
Kimiko ate a rapid breakfast. Although it was early summer, she selected a long-sleeved blue button-down shirt. I can’t exactly walk around wearing a protector on my left arm like the pro-wrestler Mayu Iwatani, she thought wryly. Concealment is the only option.
The waiting room of the Moroboshi Clinic was sterile and quiet, typical for the mid-morning lull. When Kimiko announced her arrival, a nurse immediately escorted her to an examination room.
Dr. Moroboshi was a middle-aged physician, smaller in stature than Kimiko, with an air of clinical precision. "Since there were no patients ahead of you, we haven't had you fill out the intake form yet," the doctor said, handing her a clipboard. "Just the basics will suffice. Name, age, sex, place of birth, height, weight, and occupation."
Kimiko filled in the data fields rapidly. Name: Kimiko Jinguji. Age: 27. Sex: Female. Birthplace: Setagaya Ward, Tokyo. Height: 168cm. Weight: 53kg. Occupation: IT Engineer.
"Thank you," Moroboshi said, reviewing the data. "Now, Ms. Jinguji, what brings you in today?"
"This morning, in the shower, I found this." She rolled up her right sleeve, exposing the inner forearm. The four rows of raised, script-like welts stood out against her pale skin. "It just appeared. I went to sleep at 11:30 last night, and my arm was clear. No marks. Nothing."
She pulled her tablet from her bag, synced it, and displayed the high-resolution macro shots she had taken an hour ago.
Dr. Moroboshi studied the intake form, then the tablet, and finally the arm itself. "Kimiko Jinguji. Twenty-seven. IT Engineer," he murmured. "So, you discovered this anomaly during your morning routine. Zero symptoms prior to last night?"
"Correct. I slept at my usual time. Woke at 7:00. In the shower, suddenly... there it was. I thought it was grime, so I scrubbed it, but it’s part of the skin. No pain. Smooth texture. Like a tattoo."
"Sudden onset," Moroboshi noted. "Thank you for the photographic evidence." He leaned in, examining the forearm closely. "Distinct patterns. Ten centimeters. Four parallel lines..."
"It looks like Arabic text," Kimiko ventured. "I’ve seen similar scripts on television, though I can’t read a word of it. It’s not random. It has structure. That’s what terrifies me."
"I see." Moroboshi nodded slowly. "Let’s look for physical trauma. Before this appeared, did you strike the arm? Compression? Injury? perhaps while sleeping—pressing it against a hard object?"
"No. Yesterday was a standard work day. Dinner at home. Watched a drama. Slept. I have no memory of any impact. I was so paranoid I even checked my apartment for signs of a break-in, thinking maybe I was drugged. But the locks were engaged. I was alone."
Moroboshi offered a faint, reassuring smile. "You are thorough. That is good. What about environmental changes? New foods, cosmetics, detergents, pharmaceuticals, supplements? Stress levels? Sleep irregularities?"
"My routine is static," Kimiko replied. "Convenience store bento and salad for dinner. Same cosmetics and soap for years. No medication. As for stress... well, I work in AI. Deadlines are tight, but nothing out of the ordinary."
"No major deviations from the norm," the doctor summarized. "Any history of allergies? Pollen, metal, food? Any family history of similar dermatological anomalies?"
"None. No hay fever. No metal sensitivity. My parents and brother have never had skin issues. I’ve heard that body chemistry can change abruptly... I thought maybe that was it."
"It is rare, but possible," Moroboshi conceded. "We must consider contact dermatitis or an acute allergic reaction." He palpated the marks again. "No pain, no pruritus, surface is smooth. No heat. No edema. How is the neurological sensation in the arm? Numbness?"
"Sensation is normal. Motor function is fine. It’s just... visibly disturbing."
"Understandable. The morphology is unique." He began writing on a chart. "I need to ask about systemic conditions. Fever, fatigue, arthralgia, headaches? Changes in your menstrual cycle or hormonal balance?"
"I feel fine. No fever. My cycle ended last week, perfectly regular. I assume my hormones are stable."
"Understood. Let’s circle back to stress. In the IT sector, the psychological burden can be high. Have you experienced any significant emotional events recently? Interpersonal conflict? Project failure?"
Kimiko hesitated. "Work is busy, but I’m acclimated to it. My relationships are stable. The project deadline is approaching, so there is some pressure, but... could that really cause this?"
"The link between the psyche and the soma is powerful," Moroboshi said. "Stress can manifest as urticaria or exacerbate eczema. Text-like patterns are... exotic, but we cannot rule out a psychogenic origin. However, we must first rule out the physical."
"What do we do?"
"We investigate," Moroboshi said, his voice turning clinical. "First, dermoscopy to magnify the skin structure. If necessary, blood work to check for inflammatory markers or allergens. We will perform a differential diagnosis to ensure this isn't systemic. If we suspect a psychological trigger, we can coordinate with a specialist. But today, we start with the skin."
"Please," Kimiko said. "I just need to know what this is. Will it... disappear?"
"Once we identify the etiology and apply the correct protocol, improvement is highly probable," Moroboshi said, his smile returning, professional and calming. "We will gather the data. We will narrow down the variables. Ms. Jinguji, I know this is unsettling, but we will solve this."
"Thank you," Kimiko said, exhaling. "I just need to know what is written on me."
都内のIT企業に勤務する神宮寺貴美子は、朝、ベッドから起き上がり、シャワーを浴びていて、右腕の前腕部の内側に奇妙なアザが浮き出ているのに気付いた。ポリエステルの垢擦りで擦っても消えなかった。それはアルファベットのような彼女が見たこともない文字が前腕部に平行に10センチほどの長さで四列に浮き上がっていた。文字はテレビで見るアラビア文字のようでもあった。触ってみても皮膚に入れ墨をしたようで、スベスベしていた。
バスルームから出て、彼女は部屋を点検した。ドアはしっかりとロックされてチェーンがかかっている。ベランダへの窓も大丈夫だった。大きくもない部屋のクローゼットとかトイレも調べたが誰もいない。彼女一人だった。
（まさか昨夜誰かに睡眠薬を飲まされて眠っている内に入れ墨を入れられたってわけじゃなかったな）
彼女はいろいろ考えたがこんな皮膚の異常が現れる原因に思い至らなかった。アレルギーがあるわけじゃない。でも、アレルギーは急に体質が変わって現れることもあると聞いたことがあった。昨日食べたものを思い出したが、別段、普段食べているものと同じものだ。おかしな食材を摂取したわけでもない。
（落ち着こう。まず、写真を撮っておこう）
タオル姿でダイニングの椅子に腰掛け、スマホで十数枚、いろいろな角度から写真を撮った。スマホの画面を拡大してみる。どう見ても無秩序な入れ墨？アザ？ではない。これは文字だ。しかし、なぜ私の腕に文字が浮き出るの？なぜ？
貴美子はスマホで会社の近くの皮膚科を検索した。会社のある同じビルの三階に『皮膚科・アレルギー科 諸星クリニック』があった。ネットでの予約ができたので、９時半に予約を入れた。
社のグループチャットで上司の末澤均に病院に行ってから出社します、とメールを打った。同じAI開発プロジェクトを担当している同僚に遅れて出社する旨メールを回覧した。末澤から『具合が悪いなら休めばいいよ、有給も溜まってるだろう？』とレスが来る。同僚の高杉恵子からも『休めよぉ～！休め！無理すんな！』とレスが来た。
手早く朝食を済ませた。『女子プロの岩谷麻優みたいに入れ墨のある左腕だけプロテクターをするわけにもいかないわ』と思い、初夏だったが、ブルーの長袖のボタンダウンシャツを着た。
午前中の出社時間だったので、クリニックの待合室は閑散としていて、貴美子が名前を言うと看護師がすぐ診察室に案内してくれた。担当は貴美子よりも小柄な中年の医師だった。
「待っている患者さんがいなかったので、問診票を書いてもらってなかったですね」と問診票を渡された。「氏名、年齢、性別、出生地、身長、体重、職業だけでいいですよ」と言われたので、それだけ書き込む。神宮寺貴美子、27才、女性……出生地？東京都世田谷区、身長168cm、体重53kg、職業、ITエンジニア……
「ありがとうございます」と諸星医師が問診票を受け取って「本日は、どうされましたか？」と彼女に尋ねた。
「今朝、シャワーを浴びていて、これが」と前腕部に平行に10センチほどの長さで四列に浮き上がっているアザを見せた。「浮き出ていました。昨日の夜、11時半に就寝しましたが、それまではこのようなアザ？でしょうか、アザはありませんでした」貴美子はバッグからスマホと同期しているタブレットを取り出して、今朝撮影した右上腕部の写真をモニターに出した。シャツの右手をまくって、上腕部内側を医師に見せる。
諸星医師は問診票を見ながら「神宮寺さん、27歳、ITエンジニアですね。本日は右前腕部のアザが気になって来院されたということですが、詳しくお聞かせいただけますか？ 今朝、シャワー中に気づいたとのことですが、昨日まで全く異常はなかったですか？」と貴美子に尋ねた。
「はい、昨夜寝る前までは何もなかったです。いつも通り11時半頃に寝て、今朝7時に起きてシャワーを浴びていたら、急に右腕にこのアザが……。最初は汚れかと思って垢擦りで擦ってみたんですけど、落ちなくて。触っても痛みはないし、入れ墨みたいにスベスベしてるんですけど、こんなの初めてで」