8,946th Time After considering my words for some time with obvious sorrow, Mogi answered in a truly pained voice, “Wait until tomorrow.” 2,601st Time “I’m Aya Otonashi.” The transfer student muttered that and nothing more. “Oh man! This is incredible!” Haruaki Usui, my friend in the seat next to me, blurts this out in a fairly loud voice and gives me an audible slap on the back, even though we’re still in the middle of second period. That hurts, stupid. It’s embarrassing, too. Everyone is staring. Haruaki’s gawking behind him thanks to the presence of Aya Otonashi, the transfer student. “Our eyes met! Oh man, I can’t believe this!” “She probably just looked up when you made all that fuss turning around to look at her.” “Hosshi, my man, you have no sense of romance.” Romance? What the hell’s he talking about? “She’s just too beautiful! Like a walking work of art. She’s a national treasure. I can’t take it anymore! My heart is hers! I’m going to profess my love to her.” Well, that was fast! The bell rings. Upon giving the end-of-class salute as ordered, Haruaki makes a beeline for Otonashi without even returning to his seat. “Aya Otonashi! You have stolen my heart. I love you!” Oh god, he actually went through with it! I can’t hear Otonashi’s reply, but I know the outcome right away from Haruaki’s face. Actually, I’m pretty sure I didn’t even need to see that to deduce her reply. Haruaki comes back to my desk. “I can’t believe it… She turned me down.” Why did you even think you had a chance of success in the first place? His total sincerity is a bit scary. “Of course she did. If you go up to someone and announce your love for them unexpectedly like that, they’re going to get creeped out. That’s just how it works.” “Hmph. Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll just have to try again, only next time it won’t be so sudden. I know I’ll win her over someday.” While on the one hand I envy Haruaki for his optimism, on the other, I’m glad I’m lacking in that area. “And what are you two up to here? It seems like fun to me, but the girls sure don’t think much of you right now,” says Daiya as he walks up to us. “What?! Just Haruaki, right?” “Afraid not. They’re treating you two as partners in crime.” “Hey, hey, my partner in crime? That’s some high praise right there, huh, Hosshi!” Th-this can’t get any worse… “But how about it, Daiyan? I’m sure even you want to take a shot at her, right?” Haruaki says, giving him a little jab with his elbow. Most people would be afraid to tease Daiya like this, but Haruaki doesn’t give it a second thought, maybe because they’re old friends, or maybe because he’s not the type to worry about consequences. Daiya sighs and answers straightaway. “Nah.” “No way! So does that mean you have your heart set on someone else?” “It doesn’t matter whether Otonashi’s good looks stir my heart or not. I’ll admit, she is beautiful, but I’d never actually try to make a play for her.” “Hmm, really…?” “You don’t understand anything, do you, Haruaki? But I guess that sentiment is incomprehensible to an ape like you who’s driven solely by instinct and pursues anything with a pretty face.” “What’d you say? Just what does caring about looks have to do with instincts?!” “Producing attractive children will lead to more descendants, so we are instinctively drawn to more visually appealing mates.” “Ohhh,” Haruaki and I both say in wonderment. Daiya seems truly disheartened that we never figured this out on our own. “Phew. Well, I get it, Daiyan. What you’re really trying to say is that there’s no point in trying because Aya is out of your league, right? There’s no dishonor in knowing you can’t win! I know what you’re doing. You’re like that fox that knows he can’t reach the grapes high up on the tree, so he tries to make everyone else think those grapes are bitter. Rationalization, that’s it. That’s so not cool. Laaame, Daiyan!” “Did you even listen to a word I said? Still, the first part of your argument wasn’t completely off base. You should die a thousand times for the second half, though.” “Ha! So you admit you don’t have a chance!” That’s enough for Daiya to slug Haruaki and his triumphant grin. Wow, all that anger he was holding back really boiled to the surface. “It’s not that I don’t have a chance. It’s that she won’t try to approach me.” “Man, if that isn’t some conceited BS, I don’t know what is. Right, Hosshi? This guy thinks he deserves the world on a platter just ’cause he’s pretty.” You’d think Haruaki would’ve learned his lesson by now, but he plunges ahead full tilt. “I’m not saying she won’t make a move on me because I’m out of her league. It may be the truth, but that’s not how things work with her.” “Damn, you really are shameless!” “She doesn’t think of me as out of her league,” Daiya explains. “In fact, I don’t even fall into that category for her. None of us interest her one bit. It’s not like she’s looking down on us, either. It’s just like how we see insects only as insects, or people as people. She isn’t even aware of the subtle difference between us, how I’m handsome and Haruaki’s a total mess. It’s like ignoring the differences between male and female cockroaches to her. Just how would you go about making a move on someone who views you like that?” Not even Haruaki has a clue of what to say in response to this rather merciless criticism of Otonashi. “…Daiya.” I just have to open my mouth. “You’re actually pretty interested in Otonashi, aren’t you?” Daiya’s at a loss for words. A rare reaction for him. But that’s the way it is. Regardless of whether his opinions are right or wrong, you can’t really analyze them without a bit of observation. “…Psh, I don’t give a damn about her.” “You’re blushing.” “…Kazu, you are this close to falling into my trap. I’m going to do things you never thought possible with a green onion that will make you break out in hives the next time you even see one.” I can tell that Daiya is getting seriously angry, so I decide to laugh and play the whole thing off as a joke. At any rate, it seems that Daiya knows that Otonashi is easy to deal with. “Before long, even you idiots and your insect-level powers of observation will figure out that there’s something wrong with her.” The claim makes Daiya sound like a bit of a sore loser. But that isn’t the case. After all, he’s exactly right. Immediately after our homeroom session at the end of the day, Otonashi suddenly raises her hand. As soon as Mr. Kokubo sees her, she launches into an announcement without waiting for permission or even an acknowledgment. “I need everyone in first-year Class 6 to do something.” Heedless of the class’s stunned reaction, she continues. “I just need five minutes of your time. I’m sure you don’t mind, right?” Despite the lack of response, Otonashi marches up to the podium. She then drives Mr. Kokubo out of the classroom as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The whole scene is bizarre, but for some reason it feels completely normal. Judging by their reactions, I can tell the rest of the class probably feels the same way. Pure silence grips the classroom, without a single murmur of protest. Standing on the platform at the front, Otonashi faces the class and opens her mouth to speak. “I want you all to write something.” She then steps down and gives piles of something to the students at the front of each row. These students take one and pass the remainder to the students sitting behind them, much like when we receive a normal handout in class. Eventually, I get one, too. It’s a blank, completely nondescript piece of recycled paper cut to about four inches on each side. “Bring them up to me once you’ve finished writing. That’s it.” “Um, what do you mean by ‘something’?” Kokone takes it upon herself to ask for the rest of the class. Otonashi’s reply is terse. “My name.” The strange silence from earlier finally breaks as commotion fills the classroom. Which is completely understandable. None of this makes any sense. Her name? Everyone knows that. She just told us this morning when she introduced herself as Aya Otonashi. “This is stupid,” someone spits. There’s only one person who would say something like that to Otonashi: Daiya Oomine. The entire class seems to gulp in unison. Everyone knows you don’t want to get on Daiya’s bad side. “Your name is Aya Otonashi. Sure. What’s the point of having everyone write it? Are you desperate to make sure everyone remembers it right away?” But Otonashi doesn’t bat an eye at the harsh remark. “All I would do is write ‘Aya Otonashi.’ There, I just showed you I know your name. There’s no point in writing it now, right?” “Fine. I don’t care.” Perhaps Daiya wasn’t expecting her to agree, because he’s at a loss for a retort. With an angry tch, he tears his paper up as loudly as possible and leaves the room. “What’s the matter? Hurry up and write.” No one in the classroom has started. Which is completely understandable. Not everyone shows it, but we’re completely floored. She just shut Daiya down. As his classmates, we’re well aware of how incredible that is. It’s a while before we can do anything. Eventually, the scratch of a mechanical pencil breaks the stillness, and the room gradually fills with sound of other students following suit. I’m pretty sure no one understands what Otonashi is after, but that doesn’t matter. There’s only one thing to write. Just the name Aya Otonashi. The first person to bring their paper to Otonashi is Haruaki. Once he’s out of his seat, several other students get up as well. There’s no substantial change in Otonashi’s expression as she takes Haruaki’s paper. I think…he failed the test. “Haruaki.” I call him over once he says a couple of words to Mogi and heads back this way. “What’s up, Hosshi?” “What did you write?” “Huh? ‘Aya Otonashi.’ What else would I write? I misspelled it, though.” Haruaki looks a bit sad for some reason as he answers. “…Yeah, I guess that’s really the only option.” “C’mon, hurry up and write yours, too.” “But do you think Otonashi is doing this because she actually wants us to write her name?” If so, then it’s hard to believe there’s any point to this at all. “Nope,” Haruaki immediately replies. “Huh? But…you wrote ‘Aya Otonashi,’ didn’t you?” “I mean… Okay, so Daiyan is ridiculously smart, right? Though, his personality is equally awful.” I cock my head in confusion at the sudden change in topic. “So Daiya said that all he would write was ‘Aya Otonashi.’ Which means he couldn’t think of anything else to write. I was the same, obviously. We couldn’t write something else because we couldn’t come up with what that would be.” “So if you can’t think of anything…you can’t write it.” “Exactly. The point is, none of this is about us.” I get the feeling Haruaki is right on the money. He has to be right. In other words, Otonashi is ignoring the majority of the class and doing all of this for someone who could think of something else to write. Now I know why Haruaki looked so dejected earlier. I mean, he really does have the hots for Otonashi. His approach was pretty silly, but I’ve never seen him declare his feelings like that to anyone else, so they must be genuine. But she isn’t falling for it. She won’t even give him the time of day… Just like Daiya said. “…You know, you’re smarter than I thought, Haruaki.” “The ‘than I thought’ part was totally unnecessary.” That actually was pretty rude, so I try to clear the air with a smile. Haruaki is kind enough to return it with a slightly forced grin. “Anyway, I’ll see ya later. My teammates will kill me if I don’t get moving. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but still.” “Okay. Hang in there.” It must be tough playing for a fairly capable baseball club. I return to my blank piece of paper. I was figuring I would just write Aya Otonashi, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to do it. I look closely at the girl. There’s absolutely no change in her expression as she skims the papers the other students have given her. They all must have the name from her self-introduction on them. Anyone who can’t think of anything else wouldn’t be able to write anything else. “…” So what am I supposed to do? I mean, I did think of something else. For some reason, the totally random name Maria popped into my head. No, I get it. My mind is doing something weird. Where the hell did I come up with “Maria,” of all things? If I write that and give it to Otonashi, she’ll just yell at me to stop messing with her. But what if, in some wild twist of fate, this happens to be the answer she’s hoping for…? Filled with doubt and uncertainty, I start writing on that four-by-four-inch scrap of recycled paper. Maria. I stand up and walk over to Otonashi. There’s no line. It seems I’m the last to turn my paper in. Nervously, I hand it to her. She accepts it without a word. And then she sees what’s written on it. The change in her expression is unmistakable. “…Huh?” Neither Mr. Kokubo nor Daiya could get a reaction out of her, so why is she suddenly so wide-eyed? “Heh-heh-heh…” And now she’s laughing. “Hoshino.” “Oh, you remembered my name.” I regret that comment instantly. Otonashi’s laughter vanishes, and she glares at me like she’s finally cornered the man who murdered her parents. “You bastard… Don’t mess with me.” Her voice is choked, as if it’s all she can do to fight down her rage. I predicted what she would say, but not that tone. Next thing I know, she has me firmly by the collar of my jacket. “Whoa! I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to…” “Why else would you write that if you aren’t trying to play with me?!” “Um, well, you see… It’s just that, er… Yeah, maybe I was just playing around.” And that probably seals my fate. Her hands still securely gripping my collar, Otonashi drags me off behind the school. “Hoshino, do you think you can make fun of me?” Otonashi has me up against the wall of the school as her eyes bore into me. “Strategy is not my strong suit. I’m well aware of this. My plans are about as simple and ill-advised as telling the culprit to come out and identify himself. You can’t even call them plans. So why the hell are you falling for them?! This is the second time! It’s like you’re completely ignoring what happened the first time!” Otonashi has finally released me, but her gaze alone is enough to fix me in place. Seeing my reaction, she presses her lips tight before letting out a sigh. “…It’s just that I felt like I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I lost my cool for a bit once I thought I’d made some headway. But the truth is that things are taking a turn for the better, so I suppose I should be happy.” “…Uh, yeah, that’s right. You should be happy. Ha-ha-ha.” Otonashi meets my good-natured chuckle with a terrifying glare. I’d probably be better off keeping my mouth shut. “…I don’t understand you. I thought that maybe my persistence had worn you down…but I can’t figure out why you look so carefree and empty-headed.” It’s not that I’m empty-headed so much as that I have absolutely no clue what she’s talking about. “You ignored me for the first 2,600 times. I could never get you to submit, no matter how many of these endless repetitions I went through. It’s exhausting. It should be for you, too, but you always seem perfectly fine.” What should I do? I don’t understand a word she’s saying. Perhaps finally realizing how bewildered I am, Otonashi eyes me dubiously. “……Don’t tell me you aren’t aware?” “Aware? Of what?” “…Have it your way. Whether you’re acting or not, I suppose there’s no real harm in explaining. Well, to put it simply, I’ve transferred schools 2,601 times now.” The only response I have to such a claim is to stare in shock. “If you are acting, you really deserve some kind of award. That’s the sort of stupid face you can make only when you’re entirely clueless. But whatever. I’ll explain things to you as I understand them. Now, then… Today is March second, right?” I nod. “It’d be easy if I could just say that I’ve repeated March second 2,601 times now, but it’s not as simple as that. I can’t say it’s precisely correct, but I use the word ‘transfer.’” “Wha…?” “I have been returned to 6:27 AM on the morning of March second 2,601 times.” “…” “‘Returned’ is the proper expression from my perspective, but it’s actually inaccurate. I use the term ‘transfer’ because it’s a bit closer to the truth.” My mouth gapes open, and Otonashi clutches her hair in frustration. “Agh, I can’t take this anymore! Just how stupid are you?! Whenever something inconvenient for you happens after 6:27 AM, you just ‘fix’ it by making it so it never happened!” she yells, losing her temper. Hey, come on, now. No one can understand all of that thrown at them out of nowhere, you know. “I’m not sure I really understand, but are you saying you keep experiencing the same period of time over and over?” It happens right as those words leave my lips. “Ah—” What is this? What’s going on? A massive wave of wrongness washes over me, weighing on my chest. “Wrongness” isn’t a strong enough term to describe it, but that’s what it is. It’s like realizing the town I live in has been switched with an entirely different one, except that everyone else is going about their lives as usual without noticing. But it’s not like lost memories have returned to me. I still don’t remember anything, but I can definitely tell that something has happened all the same. Otonashi is telling me the truth. “Do you finally understand?” “H-hold on a minute…” We’ve repeated March second 2,601 times. That alone is more than enough to confuse me, but it’s the other thing Otonashi is implying that really gets to me… “And I’m the one doing this?” “Yep,” Otonashi answers immediately. “Wh-why would I do that?” “I have no way of knowing your motivations.” “But I’m not doing it!” “You’re probably not even aware of it.” Why me? As I ask this, I realize there’s only one reason I could have drawn her attention. I wrote Maria on the piece of paper. “Just as you went through each repetition completely unaware up until now, the other people who are simply caught up in this have had their past erased as well. There was no way for me to make you remember your past that they didn’t share. In other words, I’ve told the name Maria to the entire class, but the only ones who could possibly write it are the culprit and myself.” But I remembered that name. “Maria” had just popped into my head from out of nowhere. That couldn’t be normal. “I don’t know if it’s been effective or not, but I’ve done my best to behave in an especially memorable manner. I was waiting for the culprit, who should be the only person besides me with memories of those worlds that never were, to slip up and reveal himself. I didn’t have much hope that it would actually work, though.” “…How long have you suspected it was me? I mean, you went to the trouble of telling me the name Maria in one of those past worlds, right?” “I wouldn’t be particularly suspicious of someone as apparently harmless as you.” “So then…” “Hmph. My time is infinite, so I was just being thorough.” My time is infinite. I’d like to say it was just a figure of speech, but Otonashi really did spend that much time in her search. I get it now. Otonashi has an infinite amount of time, which is what led her to the throwaway strategy of having everyone in the class write her name. It was all in the slim hope that someone would write Maria. No, maybe she wasn’t expecting anything at all. Maybe she had run out of ideas during her 2,601 “transfers” and was simply killing time until she could come up with a new plan. In any case, she most likely does have an eternity ahead of her. That explains why Otonashi is so angry that I fell for her plan. It’s like grinding for levels in an RPG to take down that impossible boss, only to find you could have just cheesed him by using a certain item. You achieved your goal all the same, but you wish you could have your wasted time and effort back. “…No. I lost focus for a moment, but I still can’t afford to be careless. Nothing has been resolved, after all.” “Are you sure?” “Of course I’m sure. Does it look like anything’s been solved to you? Does it look like anything about this ongoing nightmare, this ‘Rejecting Classroom,’ has ended to you?” Rejecting classroom? She must be referring to the cycle of repetition we’re stuck in. Still, there’s one thing that’s still bugging me… “I understand why you’re treating me like the one behind all this since I wrote the name Maria, but how is it that you aren’t stuck in the Rejecting Classroom like everyone else?” “It’s not that I’m not stuck. I am just as firmly trapped here as the rest of you. If I decide to stop remembering and give up, I’ll go through all of this over and over again with no meaning, just like everyone else. It would be as simple as spilling a cup of water balanced on top of my head. We’d repeat for eternity that day you keep rejecting.” “Forgetting is all it would take for that to happen to you?” “Think about it. Does anyone else seem likely to realize things are repeating themselves? You’re the one behind all this, and even you were unaware of what’s happening.” …She might be right. We’ve already gone through all of this 2,601 times, after all. “It would be effortless for me to stop remembering. But that will absolutely never happen.” “…Never?” “Never. Giving up is an impossibility for me. I don’t care whether we do this two thousand times, two million times, or two billion times—I will triumph and accomplish what I set out to do.” Two thousand times. I give that number some thought. You hear about groups of two thousand relatively often, but when you actually consider adding one plus one plus one all the way up… Well, there are 365 days in a year and 1,825 days in five years, so it’s even more than that. Otonashi has been at this for all that time. “Hoshino, do you have any idea how you were able to create the Rejecting Classroom?” “Huh? …No.” “Heh, I see. It would definitely be significant if you were playing dumb to avoid answering. That’s some impressive acting, if that’s what you’re doing.” “Th-this isn’t an act.” “Well then, let me just ask you something…” A faint smile creeps onto Otonashi’s face. “Hoshino, you’ve met , haven’t you?” Who? But I can’t even ask that obvious question. My mind reels as I try to figure out why. Who have I met? I don’t know. I can’t remember. All the same, I understand. I have indeed met . When? Where? Naturally, I don’t know either of these things. I have no memory. The one thing I know is the encounter definitely took place. I try to force myself to remember. But for some reason, that information vanishes before I can see it, as if a shutter is slamming down in front of it at incredible speed. Beep, beep, beep. Access denied. No unauthorized personnel beyond this point. “Heh. You did, didn’t you?” Otonashi snickers to herself. She’s certain now. And so am I. I, Kazuki Hoshino, am the villain responsible for this entire situation. “You should have received something. A Box that can grant a single wish.” The word “box” is unexpected—but judging by the context, it must be the device that created the Rejecting Classroom. “That reminds me—I still haven’t told you what I’m actually trying to do,” says Otonashi, a triumphant smirk still on her face. “My goal is to obtain that Box.” And with that, her smile disappears. Now that she’s sure I have what she wants, she icily orders, “Now hand it over.” Surely I must have it. But if this Box really can grant wishes, should I give it to her so easily? She’s put herself through all of this 2,601 times, over and over, just to get this device. She must have a wish she needs to come true, enough to go to such drastic lengths for it. She’s so desperate that she would be willing to take the Box and its wish away from me. That’s what it boils down to. That level of persistence definitely isn’t normal. It’s crazy—beyond a doubt. There’s something peculiar about Aya Otonashi. “I don’t know how to give it to you.” It’s not a lie. But it’s also my sole means of resistance. “I see. But if you did know, you’d give it to me, right?” “Well…” “It’s not uncommon to forget. You do know how; you simply can’t recall. It’s like riding a bicycle—you know what it feels like to do it, but you can’t explain it to anyone else. You’re just confused because you can’t put it into words now.” “…Is there a way to put an end to the Rejecting Classroom without handing over the Box?” Otonashi’s gaze grows even more frigid at my words. “So you don’t want to give it to me after all. Is that what you’re trying to say?” “N-no, that’s not it—I just…” Otonashi quietly sighs as she sees my obvious panic. “There’s a way. If I destroy the body of the ‘owner’ along with the Box, I’m fairly certain that will spell the end of the Rejecting Classroom.” “Destroy the owner?” The owner. That probably refers to the culprit who has the Box, which would be me. She has to destroy me? That means… “If you die, this Rejecting Classroom we’re stuck in will end,” Otonashi says in a detached voice, as if she’s swallowing her emotions. C’mon. There was no need for the xxxx. Are you saying this is my future? If so, that despicable act is my only choice. I would almost rather you did this to me now. It’s the morning of March 3. I’m at an intersection with poor visibility due to the rain. I’ve cast aside my umbrella, and I’m staring at a xxxx. Nothing else even enters my field of vision. Not even the truck smashed into the fence, or Otonashi standing nearby, draws my gaze from it. A red liquid flows endlessly, the rain powerless to wash it all away. There’s a body with half its head missing and the braixx splattered everywhere. A xxrpse. A cadaver. A stiff. Dead meat. Cold, lifeless flesh. A body. A body! A BODY! It’s Haruaki’s. “—Guagh!” As I become fully aware of just what is before me, I vomit. I look at Aya Otonashi. She’s watching me, her face expressionless. “…Haruaki.” Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right, Haruaki. I mean, we’re just going to go back to the beginning of the cycle. It’ll be like none of this ever happened. Lucky for us. Wait. Did I…? Did I wish the Rejecting Classroom into existence because I couldn’t accept a horrible event like this…? 2,602nd Time “I’m Aya Otonashi.” “—Guagh!” In that instant, I’m hit with a flashback to that bloodred scene, locked away in the deepest depths of my memory despite how recently I witnessed it. That scene is what slowly draws out my memories of the 2,601st transfer, like a thread pulling them directly from my brain. I’m surprised I could keep myself from screaming. “Hey, what’s the matter, Hosshi? You okay? You look like you’re in pain.” Haruaki, who was sitting in the seat next to me, expresses his concern. Even though a truck pulverized him, there he is, smiling and laughing beside me. The wrongness of it all is overwhelming. I feel nauseated. The information floods over me, devouring me like I’m its prey. My mind can’t keep up with the rapid flow and is left completely behind. My memories of the previous time and my memories of this time have connected. It’s all so sharp and vivid. “But, man, that Aya is too cute. I’m gonna go profess my love to her.” And it’s thanks to Haruaki’s lifeless corpse. Despite meeting such a grisly fate, he’s right here, head over heels in love with Aya Otonashi. I look at the transfer student. At that moment, our eyes meet. She holds my gaze with a bold smirk. …Was the corpse an attempt to back me into a corner and force me to hand over the Box? If so, it was tremendously effective. The dead body threatened me with death, and my friend’s involvement crushed me with guilt. Otonashi is doing this of her own volition. I understand the rationale that says I’m not responsible, but the sight of that corpse scatters logic to the wind, and my mind simply can’t take it. If I knew how, I would give her the Box right here and now. Fortunately, I have no idea how to do that. Fortunately? Really? If this is an effective mode of attacking me, Otonashi’s going to keep it up. Until my mind finally breaks for good. She leaves the podium to stand beside me. Then, looking straight ahead and not even glancing in my direction, she whispers: “Looks like you remembered.” At this rate, I’m going to break. I know all I’m doing is temporarily sidestepping the issue, but I still feign ignorance and avoid Otonashi. I have to think up a plan while I buy myself some time. That’s why… “Is that all you wanted to ask me about, Kazu?” …I’m asking for advice from Daiya Oomine, the smartest person I know. Daiya doesn’t bother to hide his terrible mood as he leans against the wall of the hallway. It’s probably because it took so long to explain everything. The breaks after first and second period, to be exact. “So now what? You told me the idea for your little novel, so what exactly is it you want from me?” My explanation to Daiya was exhaustive. I hadn’t left anything out. Still, given the nature of the story, I didn’t think a down-to-earth realist like Daiya would believe it if I gave it to him straight. Which is why I said it was an idea for a book. “I was just wondering what the protagonist of this story should do.” “Well, regardless of anything else, he has to fight back against the transfer student.” The protagonist in this situation is, of course, me, while the transfer student is Otonashi. It was pretty obvious, so Daiya immediately picked up on the real identity of my characters. “Oh, so you based it on her?” he’d said with a smirk. Still, he doesn’t really seem to care, since I’m putting it forth as strictly fiction. “But I don’t think the protagonist has any chance of winning.” “You’re right. He probably doesn’t right now.” My opponent is Aya Otonashi, someone who’s gone through 2,602 transfers to get ahold of the Box and isn’t afraid of using the corpses of my friends to manipulate me. I can’t think of a single item in my arsenal that would allow me to beat her. “But it’s possible that at some point in the future, our hero will get some ability that’ll give him a fair chance,” Daiya states offhandedly. “Really?” Obviously, I came to Daiya in search of a way to oppose Otonashi, but I still feel like I’m grasping at straws. I honestly didn’t expect any sort of substantial revelation. “What’s that look for? Fine, let me ask you this: Why doesn’t the protagonist have a chance against the transfer student?” “Huh? Well, that’s—” “No, no, don’t answer. A dumbass like you would probably just give me some crap that would piss me off even more.” …Hey, should I be offended? “So the difference between our hero and the transfer student is really just a difference in the information they have at their disposal. And the transfer student is using that disparity to manipulate the protagonist like a puppet. It’s that simple. All he needs is good information that will flip the odds in his favor.” You know…he’s right. Otonashi can do whatever she wants with me as long as I keep forgetting everything that’s happened. “Here’s another way of putting it: Our protagonist will stand a chance if he can somehow close the gap, since it’s the biggest thing keeping him at a disadvantage. He just has to do away with that handicap.” “…But that’s not possible,” I mutter, and Daiya lets out a snort. “Hey, you did say the protagonist sometimes keeps his memories from the previous time, right?” “Yeah.” “If he can carry over the version of him that remembers the previous time, then he can have memories from the previous two times. You see what I’m getting at?” “……Yeah, that makes sense.” “If he can hold on to memories from the previous two times, then what’s to keep him from doing it again and recalling things from three times ago? And if he can do it from three times ago, what’s to keep him from doing four times? And so on and so on.” “…That’s— I mean, the transfer student will be building up information the whole time, too. He’ll never catch up and fill the gap. Otona—I mean, the transfer student already has over 2,601 loops’ worth of information under her belt. Just two or three isn’t going to be enough for the hero to—” “Then do it 100,000 times.” “…What?” “Sure, he’s never going to make up for those 2,601 times that are already said and done, so he should just render them meaningless instead. Once it’s been 102,601 times, though, the simple math says that gap of 2,601 will only equate to a measly two percent of his 100,000 transfers. I’d hardly call that a disparity. With that many repetitions, our hero will have what he needs to take her on. With the knowledge he’s gained and the effort he makes her expend, he can wear down the transfer student until she’s weak enough that she forgets about the cycle of repetition.” “Really?” Can I really do that? “…But what if he doesn’t know how to carry over his memories?” It’s true. I held on to my memories this time, but that was just a coincidence. “You said the hero was able to keep his memories because the shock of seeing the dead body overwhelmed him, right?” “Yeah…I think that’s why it happened.” It’s the only reason I can come up with, at least, and my intuition tells me I’m right. Seeing Haruaki’s lifeless body somehow allowed me to hold on to my memories for once. “Then it’s simple,” Daiya says flippantly. “Our little protagonist needs to start making some corpses of his own.” “—What?!” I’m speechless. “B-but I can’t—” “Just listen. It’s definitely too much to have him actually kill somebody. A protagonist without any morals like that would just make your readers mad. That’s not what I’m talking about here. What I’m saying is that the hero needs to devise his own situations to shock himself, something on the level of seeing a dead body.” “…Well, yeah, that would definitely work…” “What it all boils down to at this point is that the protagonist needs be even more persistent about the Box than his rival.” The bell rings, and Daiya turns his back on me, signaling that my audience with him is at an end. “I’m going back to the classroom. You should hurry, too.” “Okay…” I don’t feel like going straight to class, though, so I stay where I am a bit longer. Daiya walks off without me. I sigh. “…Maybe there is a way to get through this without forgetting. But still…” …I’d need to make it through one hundred thousand transfers. It’s logically possible, of course, but it isn’t feasible. There’s no way a human being could withstand the actual experience. It’s like asking me to take a ride in a car that could go ten thousand miles per hour just because it exists. The car might be able to go that fast, but the pressure would crush me. My—no, any normal human being’s mind would crack under the strain of one hundred thousand cycles. If Otonashi can do it, then there’s something special about her. I never want to be the same as a monster like her. But what if that really is the only way to beat her? Should I even be in this fight in the first place? Maybe it would be better for both of us if I just meekly raise the white flag of surrender. I can’t even decide on that now, and I let out another long sigh. Just when I raise my head and get moving back to the classroom… “Ah!” I can’t stop myself from calling out. “…Haruaki.” Did he hear us? Even if he didn’t, the look on his face as he emerges from behind the pillar is too grave. All we were doing was talking about a novel, a work of fiction. For the most part. “You know how jealous I get when I hear my friends hanging out without me. I’m A-OK with hiding and eavesdropping when I get that way. You’ll cut me some slack, right?” Haruaki begins defending his actions without even being asked to. He talks as if he’s just joking around, but his expression stays serious the whole time. “Now then, Hosshi…” Haruaki scratches his head as he continues. “…You want to try killing me?” My breath catches in my throat. Why on earth would he say that? It’s completely unlike him. Haruaki watches me for a moment as I stand there in shock. I can’t even blink. After a moment, a satisfied smile rises on his face before he bursts into laughter as if he can’t hold it in any longer. “I knew it! That was horrible, Haruaki! Don’t mess with me like that!” “Ah-ha-ha-ha! I never thought you’d get so serious! Wow! You’re hilarious, Hosshi! Of course I was kidding!” Yeah, he’s right. I don’t think anyone in their right mind would believe that the cycle of repetition we just talked about is actually occurring. “Yeah, I know… You were just joking, weren’t you?” “Of course I was. How could that be anything else? As if I would let you kill me!” Something feels off about that last part. “…Haruaki?” “Yeah? What do you need my help with?” Help? What is he talking about? Haruaki is dead serious again. “Well, I guess there’s only so much I can do since I’m going to lose my memories the next time the world starts over, but all the same, I’d like to lend you a hand.” Ah, now I get it. Haruaki believes in the Rejecting Classroom. The whole thing sounds absolutely ridiculous, but he believes it. “…Haruaki.” “What’s the matter, Hosshi?” “Um… All of that was just a scenario I thought up.” Haruaki laughs loudly at that and remarks matter-of-factly, “C’mon, you’re lying, right?” “Wh…?” What? The word sticks in my throat before I can even ask. If someone asked me to believe all this nonsense, I know I certainly wouldn’t. “Wah-ha-ha-ha! What, are you moved by the depths of our friendship because I swallowed that story of yours, no questions asked?” “Yeah.” When I nod, Haruaki suddenly looks a bit taken aback. “C’mon now… Don’t be so serious. You’ll make me blush.” He turns a bit red and scratches his nose. “Let me tell you something. Even Daiyan knows everything you described is really happening to you and not just some crazy story you cooked up.” “Huh? …No, there’s no way. He’s a realist.” Now that he mentions it, though, Daiya seemed a little unlike his usual self earlier. After all, he did meet me where I asked him to come, and he spent his entire break time hearing me out. If he really thought this was all some idea for a novel, he would’ve called it a bunch of crap and left right then and there. “I doubt he’s taking everything you’re saying at face value, but I get the feeling he truly believes you’re stuck in the situation you described.” Daiya’s ideas certainly were a little peculiar for writing advice. The answers he provided were precisely what I was looking for. “It doesn’t add up, Hosshi. You based the transfer student on Aya, right? But she only transferred to our class today. You asked Daiya for advice during our first period break. When did you have the time to put that whole story together?” “Ah—” He’s exactly right. “For me, at least, I think your story is true and not some crazy delusion.” “…Why?” “You have to admit this is way better than the other crap you usually come up with. Your imagination just isn’t that good.” “Hey, that’s mean…” “But I would have believed it even if you were really smart, or at least the type who could whip up a story like that off the top of his head.” “…Why?” “’Cause you’re my friend.” Whoa, what’s this guy saying? Now I’m blushing. C’mon, how am I supposed to respond to that? Haruaki’s eyebrows furrow as he pops a fry into his mouth. “I see. So it’s looking like our sweet Aya…well, Aya Otonashi is the one who killed me.” We’re at McDonald’s at Haruaki’s suggestion. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and we’re sitting in the restaurant still in our school uniforms, having left early for the day after falsely claiming to be ill. I keep fidgeting, worried about the gazes of others around us. “I wonder if she could sit in McDonald’s in her uniform at this time of day without feeling weird.” “I’m sure Aya Otonashi could pull it off.” Though Haruaki has supposedly fallen for her, there’s definitely animosity in his voice as he says her full name. “That’s probably because she’s used to it after going through all this more than two thousand times.” Otonashi is used to things going back to as if they had never happened. She isn’t going to get worked up about the events of the Rejecting Classroom anymore. Which means she’s adjusted to all this craziness. Can she even really be considered sane anymore? She is potentially trying to kill me. “I suppose you think you’ve escaped from me.” My heart freezes in my chest. The voice of the person I was just thinking of came from nowhere. I can’t turn around, even though I heard its source behind me. I’m as mobile as concrete. Why is she here? We didn’t even tell Daiya where we were going. Otonashi circles around in front of us. I can’t lift my gaze to look at her. “I’ll let you in on something, Hoshino,” she says with a smirk. “I’ve experienced March second 2,602 times now. I’ve spent all that time with my classmates who are completely unaware they’re repeating the same day over and over. They haven’t changed in the slightest.” She quietly places her white hands on the table. Just that is enough to petrify me. “People change. Their values change. It’s no simple matter to predict their behavior. However, it’s pathetically easy to predict the actions of scum trapped in a stagnant puddle like you. Especially when it’s March second every time. I know all your conversation patterns. Predicting the behavior of a fairly inactive high school student like you couldn’t be easier, Hoshino.” I’m all too aware of the information advantage Daiya described. Before, my understanding was that he was referring to details about the Rejecting Classroom or the Box, but that wasn’t necessarily the case. The most problematic knowledge she has at her disposal is what she has on me, Kazuki Hoshino. By the same token, what I need to get my hands on is info about Aya Otonashi. That’s what Daiya was trying to tell me from the get-go and why he told me that going through the repetitions would allow me to whittle away at the gap between us. “Do you understand now? There is no escape for you, Hoshino. You’re firmly in my grasp. It would be so easy to crush you if I wanted to, but if I did, I would also lose the valuable object in your possession. That’s the only reason I’m holding back. So I hope you understand. You’d better not do anything to make me angry.” Otonashi grabs my hand. “Stay quiet and come with me. Do what I say and keep your mouth shut.” Her grip isn’t strong. I could shake it off easily if I wanted to, but am I capable of that…? No, I’m not. Aya Otonashi has absorbed me completely. I know it sounds pathetic. All the same, I just can’t oppose her. I don’t even know how. Still, despite my utter inability to fight back, Otonashi lets go of me. “What do you think you’re doing?” she says. I haven’t shaken off her hand, so her hostile question isn’t directed at me. “What’re you doing?! …Ah!” It’s for Haruaki, who pulled Otonashi’s hand off me. “I’m not going to let you take Hosshi. Don’t you get that? Are you stupid or something?” Haruaki’s challenge sounds childish, and his face is tense. He’s definitely acting. I’ve never known Haruaki to censure others like this. Naturally, his obvious bluff isn’t enough to move Otonashi. “That’s not what I’m asking. You’re the one with dull wits, Usui. Your actions are futile. Meaningless. It seems you’ve decided to help Hoshino, but all of that is part of a waking dream that will shortly fade to nothingness. Next time, you won’t see me as an enemy. You’ll probably even profess your love to me again.” Haruaki recoils under the verbal assault, probably because he knows it’s all true. Once the world is reset, he’ll forget everything he discussed with me today. She’s his enemy now, but when the next loop comes around, he’ll be just as infatuated with her as before. He’s stuck in a mire of despair. Despite having been confronted with this truth, Haruaki is still clenching his fists. “No, I still think you’re the one having trouble understanding, Otonashi. Sure, I might get reset each time so that I have no clue what’s going on. I can’t hold on to my memories, and I’m not smart like Daiya. But I know I can trust myself.” “I don’t understand. What are you getting at?” “Think about it, Otonashi. Are you positive I’m completely incapable of change?” “Of course. You can’t do anything.” “Ha! You’ve got it backward. If I can’t change, that also means I can guarantee certain things will be true for me in the next reality. After all, I’m going to be exactly the same person I was this time. It’s easy to imagine. As long as Hosshi explains things to me, I know I’ll trust him and lend him a hand every step of the way. I’d never abandon a friend like Hosshi, no matter what reality we’re in. You keep that in mind, Otonashi.” Haruaki jabs a finger at her as he continues. “As long as Kazuki Hoshino is your enemy, then you’ve made an enemy of me as well. And I can never die.” To be honest, his pose as he makes his declaration isn’t remotely impressive. It’s forced, he’s obviously trying to put up a strong front, and his hands are shaking. There’s no hiding how frightened he is. Haruaki’s usually a complete goofball. He’ll never be able to deliver cool lines like that convincingly. Still, it’s more than enough to warm my heart. He may look silly, but there isn’t a single hint of doubt in his voice. No fancy words. He’s just saying what comes naturally to him. “…” Otonashi is, of course, unfazed by Haruaki and his slightly awkward stance. But she doesn’t have an immediate comeback for him, either. Her lips purse together in an unpleasant grimace for several seconds. “You speak like you think I’m the evil one here, even though it’s because of Kazuki Hoshino that we’re trapped in the Rejecting Classroom.” Otonashi’s words are pointed and precise. I can see them hitting home with Haruaki. But still… “I don’t make mistakes when it comes to choosing friends.” Haruaki’s opinion will not be swayed. He’s frightened, but he refuses to look away. I’m getting worried. This is Aya Otonashi we’re dealing with. She isn’t the one who’s going to suffer from having a permanent enemy. Haruaki is. Each time, someone he’s naturally attracted to is going to treat him with resentment for what appears to be no reason. He’s setting himself up for an endless cycle of pain. All the while, Otonashi is never going to feel an iota of pressure, no matter how much Haruaki snaps at her. Still… “This is getting tedious.” Otonashi is the first to avert her gaze and turn away. “All your actions here today will just be rendered meaningless, anyway.” And with that, she leaves. If it were anyone besides Otonashi, I might’ve called them a sore loser. But it didn’t sound that way at all. She didn’t seem to have taken anything Haruaki said to heart, so I wonder when she decided it was okay to accept defeat this time. I guess that’s why she said exactly what she thought. She concluded it would be easier to manage us when the circumstances were more agreeable. Otonashi doesn’t harbor any emotion whatsoever toward us. She isn’t afraid of us, naturally, but she also doesn’t bear any anger or contempt toward us. So…why did she…? No, I know the reason—it was just my imagination. I was mistaken. I clearly read the situation incorrectly. Still, it really, really seemed, just for a second, that I saw a touch of sadness pass across her face. “Hey, Hosshi!” Haruaki speaks, still eying the automatic door Otonashi left through moments earlier. “Do you think I’m gonna get killed?” My first instinct is to say there’s no way that could happen, but when I realize he might be right, I swallow the words. In the end, it’s raining on the morning of the 2,602nd March 3. Even though I take a longer route to avoid the scene of the accident, I end up arriving at school early. It isn’t so much that I want to avoid Otonashi’s attack as I just never want to witness anything like that ever again. Daiya is already in the classroom when I arrive. He approaches as soon as he catches sight of me. “What’s up, Daiya?” Something keeps him from answering right away. He’s peering closely at my eyes. While he’s still as skilled as ever at keeping his thoughts hidden, there’s clearly something unusual going on. “…So, hey, about that book idea we were talking about yesterday…” Daiya’s tone is intentionally light as he mentions my novel, or more precisely, my beliefs about how things are occurring. “I was curious about something. Why doesn’t the transfer student lose her memories each time like the protagonist does?” I don’t have a good response, probably because I don’t know why he’s bringing this up. “The protagonist can’t hold on to his memories even though he’s the one responsible for creating the Rejecting Classroom. Even if the transfer student has some special ability, doesn’t it seem a little cheap for her to automatically keep her memories after each repetition? I think you should make it so both characters have to use the same methods to maintain their memories.” “…You might be right.” I agree without thinking about the implications too much. I’m not entirely sure what he’s trying to say, I guess because Daiya’s still talking like this is all for a novel. “The hero’s able to retain his memories because he sees a dead body, right?” “…I think so.” “And he sees the body because someone got hit by a truck, correct? There’s no way the transfer student, who has experienced this same day 2,601 times, didn’t know that truck was going to lose control. So if she’s somehow involved in this accident, you can be sure she meant for it to happen. That’s why you presented the death of the hero’s friend as a murder.” I nod. “But that’s what bothers me.” “What? Is there something wrong with that approach?” “No, you’re on the right track. It was most definitely an attack on the protagonist. What I’m getting at is that maybe witnessing the accident was a prerequisite for him to keep his memories. There’s no point to the attack if he’s just going to forget it all right away.” “I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me here…” “So the transfer student wants to take the Box from the protagonist, right?” “Right.” “Try thinking from her perspective. She’s finally found her guy, the one she’s been searching for. She could’ve just kept quiet, but instead she goes to the trouble of explaining everything to him. Which opponent would it be easier to take the Box from—one who’s completely oblivious, or one who’s on guard? The oblivious one, of course. If that’s the case, then why do you think she bothers explaining everything to him?” “Ummm… I guess because she thinks he’s going to forget?” “That’s right. She judges there isn’t any harm in telling him. Explaining everything to the protagonist is probably a bit of a pastime for her at this point. You could even call it careless.” “But she had to have set up the accident, right? Which means it could only have been an attack on me, so…?” “I’m sure she set it up. But try thinking of it this way: The transfer student didn’t expect the protagonist to see the body.” So in other words, she caused the accident for some other purpose than attacking me? I think over our conversation again. “Ah—” I hurriedly look around the classroom. The transfer student, Aya Otonashi, is nowhere to be found. She’s probably still at the scene of the accident. “It can’t be… She’s insane!” “Of course she is. There’s no way someone who’s adjusted to living the same day 2,602 times could be right in the head.” Aya Otonashi is killing people. Not as an attack on me, but as a way of retaining her memories. I remembered. I didn’t want to, but I remembered. The 2,601st time wasn’t the first time that accident took place. It could have happened 2,600 times before then. If this is true, does it mean that Otonashi kills someone each time she transfers? Can I really just sit back and let this happen? Is Haruaki going to be murdered this time, too? “Haruaki!” “Huh? What’s up, Hosshi?” Standing over by the door is the man himself, who’s just arrived. What does this mean? If he isn’t the victim, then… Oh. The dead body doesn’t necessarily have to be Haruaki’s, it seems. “That’s enough about your book for now, Kazu. Let’s get down to the real matter at hand.” Daiya continues on, paying no mind to Haruaki. “I heard there was an accident just now.” He pauses a breath, then speaks. “A truck hit Aya Otonashi.” Um, what the—? Oh, I get it. It works perfectly fine if she’s the victim, too. 4,609th Time “A truck hit Haruaki.” 5,232nd Time “A truck hit Kasumi Mogi.” 27,753rd Time It’s soccer day in PE. I have a bloody nose, and I’m resting my head on Mogi’s lap. She’s still in her regular school uniform. I suddenly wonder what prompted Mogi to say I could rest my head on her. Is this the kind of thing she would do if she was trying to win me over? I glance up at her face, but all I can see is the same vacant expression she always has, as if there’s nothing on her mind at all. “…Hey, Mogi?” “What is it?” “What’re you thinking about?” “Huh?” Mogi tilts her head, but no answer is forthcoming. Her only response is a puzzled look. I mull this over. Would it be impossible to build a romantic relationship with such a blank slate? Why do I have feelings for a girl as confusing as Mogi? And when exactly did they start? I try to remember. “……Huh?” “…What is it?” asks Mogi at my sudden outburst. “Oh, uh… It’s nothing.” I’m sure my expression exposes my lie. Mogi can see that, but she isn’t prepared to pry further, so she just closes her mouth. I get up without protest from her. “Well… It looks like the bleeding stopped.” “…Yeah.” That’s the extent of our conversation. Why did I voluntarily end what would normally be an awesome situation? I might never be that happy again ever in my life. But I just can’t. I mean, I can’t remember. I can’t remember. I can’t remember. I can’t remember! I can’t remember when I started to like Mogi! Why am I attracted to her? What about her caught my eye? Did I just find myself drawn to her for no real reason? I should know at least that—there’s no reason I shouldn’t, but for the life of me I can’t recall any of it. It wasn’t love at first sight. I’ve never interacted with Mogi outside of school. So when did it all happen? Did my love just bloom out of nothing? “—It can’t be.” There’s no way it could be true, but it’s the only thing I can imagine. My love for Mogi just appeared out of thin air. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? …Maybe you need to go to the nurse’s office,” says Mogi in a wispy voice. But even so, I’m over the moon that she’s worried about me. I’m happy, pure and simple. There’s no way this feeling could be anything but real. “…I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.” I ask myself over and over if I’m wrong, but the more I do, the more convinced I am it’s true: I wasn’t interested in Mogi. And when did that change? That’s right… …It was yesterday. “Oh, I see.” I look over at the transfer student, Aya Otonashi, where she stands stock-still in the middle of the schoolyard. When did my feelings for Mogi blossom? The answer is simple. It wasn’t yesterday, even though I’m definitely head over heels for her today. So when, exactly? It would be impossible during the short time between yesterday and today. So it could have happened only during the more than twenty thousand times the Rejecting Classroom put me through all this. There it is. I remember now. It’s just a fragment, but it’s probably the most I’ve been able to recall up to this point. Still, it’s the barest sliver of a recollection, and any substantial memory remains as lost as all the others to me. The memory of how I fell in love with Mogi, a memory I should cherish above all others, slipped away from me. I’m sure I’ll continue to lose it each time. I can’t share anything with her. Nothing can change that, no matter how many times we go through this. My one-sided love will only grow, never to be acted upon. Maybe that’s not what I should be concerned about, though. It’s possible the end of the Rejecting Classroom could also spell the end of my romantic feelings for Mogi. After all, they would never have existed without the classroom, right? It feels wrong. That can’t possibly be right. There’s absolutely no way these feelings could be a lie. But if they were never actually possible in the first place, what are they if not false? A sudden gust of wind blows before the end of class. It lifts Mogi’s skirt. I’m not sure why, but in some corner of my mind I get the sense I already knew she’d be wearing light-blue underwear. Yeah, I definitely did. I knew the color of her underwear today. And I know that Kasumi Mogi is the one Aya Otonashi sacrifices most frequently in order to retain her memories. That’s what settles it for me. I’ll make sure this Rejecting Classroom never ends. Aya Otonashi doesn’t initiate any contact with me on this loop. This isn’t a first, though. I get the feeling she didn’t last time, either. My memories are hazy, but it seems she hasn’t been trying to mess with me at all recently. It’s our lunch break, and Aya Otonashi is sitting apart from the others in the classroom, nibbling a piece of bread as if it’s just a tasteless form of sustenance. I approach her. Just being near Otonashi is enough to make my body tense and my heart rate skyrocket. Her rejection of others seems vastly greater than before, as if it’s physically pushing me away. “…Otonashi.” Speaking to her takes considerable willpower, but she doesn’t turn to look at me. At this distance, there’s no way she didn’t hear. That’s why I continue anyway. “We need to talk about something.” “Not with me, you don’t.” Shut down just like that. “Otonashi.” No response. She keeps munching her bread with distaste. I guess she intends to ignore me no matter what I say. If I want a response, I’ll have to do something she can’t tune out. After a bit of thought, the perfect thing pops into my head. “…Maria.” The listless chewing suddenly ceases. “We need to talk about something.” Not even that is enough to get her to spare me a glance, but she nods without a word. Stillness has overtaken the classroom. Everyone’s holding their breath, waiting to see what happens next. Perhaps realizing she’s lost this little battle of wills, Otonashi eventually sighs in exhaustion. “You must be remembering quite a bit this time if you can say that name.” “Yeah, that’s why I—” “But there’s still nothing for us to talk about.” And with that, Otonashi goes back to apathetically eating her bread. “Why?!” The attention of the room turns toward me at my unexpected outburst. “What’s your problem? I’m the one you’re supposed to be doing something about, right? How come you won’t listen to what I have to say?!” “Why?” Otonashi snorts in derision. “You seriously don’t get it, do you? Ha! Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re always a complete idiot like this. You couldn’t figure anything out by yourself if you tried. Why did I have to end up stuck with you?” “…I don’t know what some other me did in another time, but—” “Some other you? Don’t be stupid. Why do you think another you would be any different from this you? You’re exactly the same.” “What makes you so sure? I could say that I want to help you. If I did, then—” “That wouldn’t matter in the slightest.” Otonashi cuts me off vehemently, not even waiting to hear the rest of the sentence. My plan was to match her word for word, but her onslaught is enough to overwhelm any comeback. “It’s because this isn’t the second or even the third time you’ve said these exact words to me.” “Huh?” There must be something amusing about my dumbstruck expression, because Otonashi smirks slightly and puts her half-eaten bread back in its bag. “Fine. What’s a little more worthless time spent? I’ve already explained this to you more than a few times, too, so I might as well do it again.” Otonashi stands up and walks off. All I can do is shut up and follow her. Otonashi leads me to the usual spot behind the school. As always, she leans against the wall of the building. “Let’s get one thing straight: This is not a discussion. All you’re going to do is clean out your ears like a good little fool and listen.” “…I’ll do whatever I want.” With a cold glare, Otonashi effortlessly brushes aside my feeble attempt at resistance. “Do you know how many times it’s been now, Hoshino? I’m sure you don’t. This is the 27,753rd time.” What an absurd number. “…Are you really keeping count of them all?” “Yes, because if I stop counting even once, there’s no way to go back and check how many times it’s been. If I lose track of that, then I’ll lose all sense of where I am. That’s why I keep count.” That makes sense. If you have no idea where you started, at least knowing how many steps you’ve taken would bring a tiny bit of relief. “That’s how many times we’ve been through this all. I’ve exhausted every approach with you. I can’t come up with anything else to try.” “That’s why you think it’s pointless to talk to me.” “Yeah.” “And you’ve tried persuading me to give you the Box?” “I gave up on that a long time ago.” “Why? I’m sure out of all those loops, there must’ve been at least one when I was easy to win over.” “Yeah, of course there was. There were times when you were hostile and times when you were cooperative. But the thing is, none of that matters. Regardless of your attitude, you haven’t given up the Box even once.” Even my cooperative self hasn’t handed it over… That seems clear when I think about it. If Otonashi ever did get ahold of the Box, our current reality inside the Rejecting Classroom would no longer exist. “And you’re absolutely sure that I have it?” “I’ve always harbored some doubts, but the conclusion I reach is the same every time. There is no doubt that you, Kazuki Hoshino, are the owner of the Box.” “Why is that?” “There aren’t as many possible suspects as you seem to believe. Explaining the ins and outs of why that is would take forever, so I’ll make it short. Suffice to say, it would be impossible for this small range of suspects to maintain their deception for all 27,753 times. That’s why you are the only conceivable owner of the Box. Besides, you have some irrefutable proof, yourself, right?” She’s correct. I have met *, the Box’s distributor. “Even so, you never bring it out. Rather, you can’t. You’ve never been able to in any of the twenty-thousand-plus times that have passed since I identified you as the owner.” “That’s why you’ve given up?” Someone like Otonashi, who would do anything to get the Box, has thrown in the towel? “No, I haven’t. There’s simply no means of getting it from you. It’s like when you’re convinced there’s a hundred-yen coin in your wallet, but you can’t find it no matter how much you dig. Of course, the first thing you do is search every last bit of space inside the wallet. But even then, it doesn’t turn up. The only thing you can do at that point is reason that maybe the coin isn’t in there after all. Over the course of these 27,753 times, I have concluded that, just like the coin in the wallet, it is absolutely impossible to get the Box out of Kazuki Hoshino.” After one final scowl, Otonashi turns away from me. “Anyway, that’s the end of this farce. Is there anything else you’d like to say?” “…There is. That’s why I wanted to talk to you in the first place.” I have to say it. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to protect the Rejecting Classroom. If Otonashi is going to murder Mogi over and over, then I… “Otonashi—Aya Otonashi, you…” “‘…Are my enemy from now on,’ right?” “Wha—?!” Otonashi beats me to the punch, finishing the desperate declaration that was taking so much effort for me to say. She isn’t even looking at me, as if she couldn’t care less. After a weary sigh, utterly disgusted at my speechless astonishment, she turns back toward me as if she has no other choice. “You still don’t get it, do you, Hoshino? How long do you think I’ve had to put up with you and your idiocy? This is just another routine we’ve gone through so many times it makes me sick. There’s no way I wouldn’t know what you planned to say.” “B-but—” Was I always this determined each time? Was my resolve always meaningless? “I’ll share something else with you. Even when you get up the nerve to make me your enemy, even when you try with all your might to carry over your memories, you never seem to care in the end.” “B-but that’s…!” That would mean I’m allowing Mogi to be murdered. That would mean I’m choosing to lose my feelings for her. “Don’t believe me? Should I tell you the reason you yourself have given me dozens of times?” I clench my jaw. Otonashi turns her back on me, signaling that this conversation is at an end. “That conviction of yours has never wavered even after more than twenty thousand times, I’ll give you that.” I rise without thinking. Did Otonashi just imply that she respects me? “Wait.” There’s one thing I haven’t asked her yet. She looks back at me over her shoulder. I continue. “You aren’t trying to take the Box from me anymore?” “That’s what I said, yes.” “Then what are you going to do now?” Nothing changes in her expression. She simply stares at me, her gaze steady and unwavering. I can’t help it; confronted by such brazen eyes, I’m the first to look away. “Ah…” Otonashi suddenly marches off without another word, much less an answer to my question. Otonashi must’ve gone straight home, because she’s not in the classroom when I return. It’s fifth period. I still can’t make heads or tails of these math equations I must have heard thousands of times now, so I give up on paying attention and concentrate on Mogi instead. Could I really abandon her to her fate? Could my feelings for her dissolve just like that? No. It’s impossible. I don’t care what reasons those past versions of me may have had. All that matters is that the current me can’t give up on her. Fifth period ends. I make a beeline for Mogi. Noticing my approach, she gazes back at me with her big eyes. That alone is enough to make my body go as rigid as stone. My heart skips a beat or two. That’s what power she has over me. That’s how much what I’m about to do means to me. I’m planning to do something that I would never, ever consider doing under normal circumstances. I have no other choice, though. It’s the only way I can think of to hold on to my memories. My only option is to tell Mogi how I feel. “Mogi…” I’m sure I look nuts, what with my nervousness and the other thoughts racing through my mind. Mogi tilts her head and gives me a curious look. “Hey, I need to tell you something…” “Wait until tomorrow.” “Ah…” Something like a scene from a movie forms in my head, the audio playing whether I want it to or not. The image is clear, bright, and painful, like having my eyes, eardrums, and brains smashed through a pane of glass. My heart starts pounding, like a hammer slamming into my ribcage. N-no! I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to remember any of this! I tried so hard to erase it, but it never went away. So many other important things flee my mind each time, but this one memory always remains. Yeah. I’m sure of it. I’ve confessed to her before. “…Are you all right?” “……Sorry, forget I said anything.” I walk away from Mogi. She frowns as if she doesn’t believe me, but she doesn’t pursue the matter any further. I return to my seat and slump over the desk. “……I get it now.” It’s all so obvious once I think about it. It’s not like this hasn’t played out over twenty thousand times now. I profess my love to Mogi, but then I forget. So I profess my love again, and I forget again. I’ve made this confession that I never even wanted to make over and over and over again, all to resist the effects of the Rejecting Classroom, only to forget I had even done so. And each time, I get the last response in the world I want to hear. It’s always the same. The only reply I ever get is the absolute worst one. It’s set in stone. There’s no reason to think Mogi’s answer will ever change if she can’t retain her memories. That answer is— “Wait until tomorrow.” It’s the worst possible thing she could say, because for us there will never be a tomorrow. With the most determination I’ve ever had in my life, I muster up courage I never knew I had, my nerves frayed to the breaking point, only to have my words vanish into nothingness as if they were never spoken. To make it worse, I’m forced to initiate this interaction even though she’s forgotten my profession of love so many times before. …But I see the truth now. There’s no way to erase the past. There was never anything there to begin with. This world has been hollow from the very beginning. Nothing, absolutely nothing, holds any value in a world that’s about to vanish from existence. Beautiful, disgusting, noble, crude, lovable, hateful—none of it is worth jack here. That’s why there’s nothing in this place. It’s empty. This irredeemable void is the Rejecting Classroom. I feel like throwing up. I’m standing here breathing, but I want to rid my body of that air and everything else. If I do that, I won’t be here anymore, though. I can’t live without air, but if I inhale the emptiness of this world, I’ll become empty, too. I’ll suck up all the emptiness like some sort of sponge. Or maybe all this fretting is too late, and I’m already empty. “What’s the matter, Kazu? Are you sick?” From my slumped-over position, I slowly lift my head at the familiar voice. Kokone is standing there with obvious concern. “You got a bloody nose during PE, right? Maybe that’s what it is. If you’re not feeling well, maybe I should walk you to the nurse’s office.” “Don’t worry about him, Kiri. It’s not the nosebleed that’s messing with him—it’s the lap pillow he got afterward.” This comes from Daiya, who’s now suddenly nearby. “A lap pillow…? Ohhh, I get it now! That’s got to be it! Aw, is somebody feeling a little lovesick?” Kokone pounds me on the shoulder, a huge grin on her face. “Well, well! I never thought you’d be so forward, Kazu! Don’t go thinking you’re Don Juan now!” “I have to admit, I’m kinda surprised such a cheap seduction tactic had that effect on you.” “N-no, that’s not it! I’ve always—” I catch myself midsentence. I was about to make a serious slip of the tongue, in more ways than one. I would have admitted I had feelings for Mogi, and even more important… “Huh? I could’ve sworn you didn’t think Mogi was anything special before yesterday.” …it wouldn’t have been true. Today is when I started liking her. I guess at least to Daiya and the others it probably seems like something that came out of the blue. Oh, I get it… That’s why none of them noticed my love for Mogi despite it being so plain to see. “C’mon, Daiya. The real news is that the boy has finally admitted he has a crush on Kasumi, hee-hee!” Kokone gives Daiya a little jab with her elbow as she giggles. “True. This could keep me entertained for a while.” “Heh-heh, meddling in other people’s romance is so much fun! Now, don’t you worry there, Kazu. Your big sis here is in your corner! I’ll provide all the advice and assistance you could ever want! I’ll even help cheer you up if she blows you off. But it’ll be annoying if things actually work out between you, so if that happens, I’ll just kill you.” “Don’t worry. If they end up going out, I’ll steal her away from him.” “Oooh, fun! Nothing beats a little misery and a sordid love triangle!” …Those two are really the lowest of the low, kicking me while I’m down like this. But I’m glad at least Xxxxxxx isn’t here. If he were around, this whole situation would really run out of control once he was on board. “…Huh?” “Aw, what is it, Kazu?” “No, it’s just that I was wondering where that jerk is. Maybe home sick?” “Who’s ‘that jerk’?” asks Daiya with a puzzled look. That’s funny. I thought Daiya would know who I’m talking about instantly just by my tone. “What do you mean ‘who’? The only jerk I’d be talking about is…” …Um, who? Whoa, hold on a second. I was just about to say someone’s name, but now I can’t even remember it, much less his or her face. “…Uh, Kazu? Hello? Who were you talking about?” I feel ill, with an urge to scrape out my esophagus, as if some thick, viscous slime is stuck in my throat. But it’s a good thing that I feel this way. If I can choke it all down and purge it from my body, then Xxxxxxx will be gone. “H-hey…Kazu!” I remember now; it’s okay. I can remember precisely because I feel sick like this. “…Haruaki.” That’s the name of my best friend, the one who swore he would stand with me forever. I have just the faintest glimmer of hope. It’s possible that I’m the only one who’s forgotten Haruaki through some random slip in my memory. But by now I should know how foolish of me it is to even hope for that… “Hey, Kazu, who’s Haruaki?” Daiya asks, but it’s a meaningless question. I grit my teeth in frustration. Daiya and Kokone are curiously watching my behavior. Both of them have no recollection of Haruaki, even though he’s their childhood friend, and they’ve both known him for much longer than I have. The truth that Haruaki no longer exists here brutally pierces my heart. “I’m going home.” The resulting wound is fatal. I stand up, grab my bag, turn away from Daiya and Kokone, and leave the classroom. I can’t stand to be there for even a second longer. Why is Haruaki gone? I know the answer. I know it all too well. Haruaki was rejected. By who? I know that, too. The only one who could have rejected Haruaki is the “protagonist” of this little story, the one who brought the Rejecting Classroom into existence. I was mistaken to think this endless loop was meant to preserve the normalcy of my daily life forever. How stupid. That was never it at all. The mundane is only normal because it continues to flow onward. If you dam a river, it fills with mud and silt until it becomes pitch-black. That’s exactly what this is—a growing reservoir of foul, stagnant water and scum. Yeah, I see it now. I’m sure I must have stumbled upon this truth many times before. Time and time again, I arrived at this same realization. That’s why I decided to stop viewing Aya Otonashi as an enemy. Aya Otonashi is trying to destroy the Rejecting Classroom. Why would I stop her? The bell rings. I’m sure all my classmates must be here by now. I turn back to scan the room before I leave. An empty seat. Another one. And another. Another over there. Yeah… I knew some desks would be empty, but it still seems strange that no one is questioning why there are so many. The truth is that I knew all along. I just didn’t want to admit it, so I blocked that knowledge from my mind. Aya Otonashi has figured out that it’s impossible to take the Box from me. Still, putting an end to the Rejecting Classroom would be a simple matter once the one responsible for its creation was identified. Aya went through twenty thousand repetitions even after figuring out I was the culprit, just so she could get the Box. So what am I going to do now? I don’t even need to think about it. The truck sends my limbs flying upon impact. The sight of the right leg I’ve known all my life lying so far away is so ridiculous, I can’t help but laugh. “Is this how it ends…?” I’ve been killed. I got myself killed. “I went through 27,753 repetitions of excruciating idleness, only to have it all end like this—what an utter waste of time. I admit, I’m…I’m exhausted.” To be completely accurate, I’m not dead yet, but whatever’s left of me in the lump of blood and guts that once formed my body can see the writing on the wall. I’m dying. Well past the point of no return. Aya Otonashi killed me after all. “Damn…! To think my prize would meet this fate after such a ridiculous amount of time… I’ve never cursed my own incompetence more than now!” Aya Otonashi looks truly regretful as she mutters to herself. “…Might as well drop this and try for another Box. There was nothing here. All I can do is look for the next one.” Her eyes don’t see me. Actually, I’m sure they never once saw me, from the beginning of all this. From the start up until the bitter end, this girl had eyes only for the Box supposedly hidden inside me. So will none of this have ever occurred, either? No, I’m sure that’s not the case. If the Box known as the Rejecting Classroom truly is inside me, then it’ll be destroyed when I die, crushed just like my body against the truck. There will be no more repetitions. It’s all so ironic. If this was the one and only means of putting an end to the Rejecting Classroom, then I should’ve just set out to die from the get-go. I can’t get over the hollowness of it all. This world must’ve been some sort of purgatory for me. But our battle is finally at an end. It may have been completely one-sided, with no surprises or upsets, but it’s over all the same. Yeah, that’s what you believe, isn’t it, Otonashi? I’m sorry. I truly am, Otonashi. It’s all because you ignored me for so long. If it weren’t for that, I might not have made this mistake. That’s why we spent all this time in vain. C’mon, Otonashi. It’s so simple once you think about it. There’s no way someone as mediocre as me could be the main character of all this. I want to tell her, but there’s no way of doing that any longer. I can’t even open my mouth, much less speak. My consciousness fades, and I drift off into death. And then—nothing ends at all.
Chapter 3
71 min read