27,754th Time Before long, my body is cold and empty. This means my very being should be hollow, too, but for some reason I wake up as usual. The chill should have vanished by now, but it’s still here. Unable to bear it, I wrap my arms around myself as I shiver in my bed. I was killed. It’s March 2, during a loop somewhere up in the tens of thousands. So even if something kills me, the Rejecting Classroom continues on as ever before. This realization seems to be carving me away from the inside, ensuring that the cold will never leave me. I can’t take staying still like that any longer, so I head straight to school without bothering to really eat anything. Outside is the overcast sky I know so well now. It’ll rain tomorrow. How long has it been since I last saw the sun? The classroom is empty. I guess it makes sense since I’m at least an hour early for our first class. A question pops into my head: Why am I so diligent about going to school? I’ve noticed the repetition of the Rejecting Classroom many times before, like I did just now. If so, couldn’t I try not going to school as a way of fighting back against the cycle? But no, I always go. Of course I do. As long as I’m in good shape, I’ll go. It’s part of my regular everyday life. It’s such an obvious, established fact that I would never even think of changing my routine. If it means maintaining the normalcy of my life, I’ll resist a new pattern at any cost. It’s my one true conviction. I can see that now. That’s probably why I’m here. None of it makes the slightest shred of sense, but that’s what I feel in my gut. I’ll go to class even if no one’s there. “…” I move to the center of the classroom and climb on top of someone’s desk, my outdoor shoes still on. Sorry, whoever sits there. I try to remember their name or even their face, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I truly am. I survey the room. I know that standing on the desk won’t change anything, but there’s still no one to be seen in the gloom of the classroom. There’s no one in the classroom. There’s no one in the classroom. “……It’s so cold.” I wrap my arms around my body. I hear the door open. Seeing me standing atop someone’s desk, the new arrival frowns. “…What the hell are you doing, Kazu?” Daiya gives me a strange look. I can feel the tension bleed away from my face. “……Man, that’s a relief.” Whispering this, I slowly climb down off the desk. Daiya watches me the entire time, his face scrunched in a scowl. “Seeing you really takes a load off my mind, Daiya.” “That’s nice.” “I mean, I know you’re the real thing.” “…C’mon, Kazu, you’re starting to scare me here, and it’s been a long time since that happened.” “You may be real, but everything else here is fake. I can’t share anything with you. The next Daiya I meet won’t know the me who is here now. It’s like this is all some show, and I’m the only one on the other side of the TV screen. I know about you, but you don’t know about me. If that’s true, can I really even say you exist?” That’s why there’s no one here. No one? “Oh…” That’s wrong. There is one person here. A single, solitary entity who can share memories with me. As long as I don’t neglect to carry my memories over, I’ll never be separated from her. It’s all clear to me now. It’s always been just the two of us here in the Rejecting Classroom. She’s been beside me all along within the cramped confines of this space that I will neither escape nor try to. She’s always viewed me as an enemy, so I’ve never had a chance to think about it before. I sit down in my seat. She sits down in hers next to me. I can’t believe it. Just imagining her sitting beside me makes me feel a little better. Even though she’s the one who killed me. Is that why? Why? Why what? I don’t understand. I can’t make sense of my emotions. But the warmth is still draining away from my body. Rapidly. The temperature of my chilly flesh will drop to zero. It’ll freeze and freeze, agonizingly, until I can’t move a muscle. “My name is Aya Otonashi. Pleased to meet you.” The “transfer student” blushed and smiled slightly, as if she really were a transfer student. “……What…?” I didn’t understand. No, actually, I did. “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 with no meaning just like everyone else. It would be as simple as spilling a cup of water balanced on top of my head.” A voice I’m sure I’ve heard before repeats these words like a refrain. I look at the girl on the podium. I examine her features, trying to make sure she’s real. She can’t be anything but real, even though there’s no way she could be, either. Is she Aya Otonashi? That’s impossible. She’d never give up, not even if all her efforts over these twenty-thousand-plus transfers turned out to be pointless, not even if she realized that the culprit she had been pursuing for so long wasn’t, in fact, me. She’d never give up! Never! This isn’t like her at all. Fully half of the class has been rejected. Nobody notices, though, as the class continues to barrage her with questions. Her replies are curt, but she’s answering all the same, with none of her usual disdain. She’s just like a regular transfer student. This scene shouldn’t exist in reality. It’s a fictitious event, a lie. All of it is a lie. So does that mean Aya Otonashi is a lie, too? That’s… That’s… “Unacceptable.” Someone else might think so, but I won’t allow it. I won’t let Aya Otonashi become a fake. “…Is something wrong, Hoshino?” Why is my teacher asking me this? Probably because I’ve suddenly leaped to my feet. I quickly glance back at Mogi for a second. All eyes in the classroom are on me, including hers. Her face is as blank as ever, though, so there’s no telling what she’s thinking. If you ask her opinion on my behavior, I can guarantee she won’t have an answer for you. We’ve been in the classroom together for a long time, but that’s the extent of our relationship. The only chance for us to become more than just classmates would arrive tomorrow. So, yeah—there’s no Mogi here. No one is here. That’s why…nothing matters. Any classmates who would forget my strange behavior—I’ve cut them out. I only have eyes for Otonashi. I walk up to the platform where she stands. What I’m about to do now is something I would normally never do, on the same level as confessing my feelings to Mogi. I stop directly in front of Otonashi. Unperturbed, she regards me with a serious expression, as if she’s sizing me up. It’s like she’s seeing me for the first time, and it’s infuriating. “Hey, Hoshino! What are you doing?” Mr. Kokubo sounds calm, but I can tell my behavior is disturbing him. My classmates are all muttering similar things. I ignore everything and drop to one knee before the girl I used to think was my enemy. I lower my head and extend my hand to her. “What is this about?” she asks. Her tone is so polite. She would normally never speak to me this way. “Your escort has arrived.” If this is how it’s going to be, then I have no choice but to play the part. “…Wh-what did you say?” “Your escort has arrived, Princess Maria. It is I, Hathaway, the one who has sworn to betray everything, to turn all and sundry against him as he stands alone in your defense.” Oddly enough, the hubbub around us fades. That makes sense. If I’m going to bring Otonashi back, I have to make her see that nothing around us exists. So this situation is easy to understand. My head still bowed, I wait for Aya Otonashi to take my hand and beckon me to my feet. I wait for her to make me dance upon her palm. But none of that happens. Aya Otonashi’s hand never takes mine. Instead, a loud clonk fills my head with a dull ringing, and I fall to the side. “…What a creep.” My head was lowered, so I have no idea what caused the impact. I finally understand what happened when I look up at Otonashi from the floor. Her right knee gave me a good whack to the side of the head. Yeah, okay. That makes sense. I must’ve been dreaming to think Otonashi would ever reach out to me. “Heh…” If she truly is Aya Otonashi, beyond a shadow of a doubt, then she would never extend her hand or show me the slightest inkling of kindness. “Heh, heh-heh-heh…” Otonashi is laughing, as if unable to hold in her amusement at the situation any longer. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this once in the twenty thousand times we’ve repeated all this. I’m still laid out, and my head still hurts, but I can feel the tension in my face relax along with my mind. “You certainly took your time, my beloved Hathaway. How dare you make a maiden such as me, whose only virtue is to faithfully await your arrival by the window, who is so delicate that she has never held anything heavier than a spoon, wait for so long? I never thought in these 27,753 times that I would be thrust into the battlefield alone.” Otonashi stoops down and reaches toward me. She grasps my wrist as I start to stand and yanks me to my feet. Yeah, this feels right. This is the Aya Otonashi I know. “…My strength is greater than ever before, thanks to you.” Otonashi’s eyes widen, as if that caught her off guard. The corners of her mouth twitch upward again. “Well, your skill with words has certainly improved, Hathaway!” Keeping her grip on my wrist, she leads me from the classroom. She pulls me away, ignoring homeroom, the teacher, the students— ignoring everything that I cut out and cast aside. After dragging me from the classroom, she set me on the rear seat of a large motorcycle, with no helmet. I’m freaking out now because I’ve never experienced speeds like this before, so I’m clinging to Otonashi’s surprisingly slender waist. (Well, actually, it feels just the way it looks, but I can’t help but perceive her as more substantial.) When I ask her in a shaky voice if she has a license, she calmly states that of course she doesn’t. “I picked it up during all the extra time I’ve had in my lifetime of transfers. Pretty worthwhile, don’t you think?” She does seem to have a knack for driving. I have to give her that. I ask her whether she’s acquired any other skills along the way, and her reply is simply “Of course.” She can drive a car, too, as I predicted, but she’s also tried her hand at martial arts, sports, languages, music, and pretty much everything else possible within the confines of the Rejecting Classroom’s repetitions. By this point, she can score near-perfect marks on university admissions exams. She claims she could already score 90 percent on those before the transfers started, though. Otonashi was a high-caliber individual to begin with, of course, but these 27,754 transfers have given her that much more time to spend improving herself. I can’t do the arithmetic, but if you convert all those loops into days, they add up to around seventy-six years. A person’s birth and death could occur in that span of time. It’s really amazing when you think about it. “Hey, Otonashi, you’re the same age as me, right?” Perhaps because of that line of thought, I’m curious about her actual age. “…No, I’m not.” “Huh? So then how old are you?” “What does it matter?” Otonashi sounds unhappy as she replies. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it. I’ve always heard it’s rude to ask a woman’s age, so maybe she’s at the point where it’s impolite to ask. When I think long and hard about it, no one in my grade should be as mature as Otonashi is. She’s my classmate only because the role of a transfer student is convenient for infiltrating the Rejecting Classroom. Otonashi could be old enough that wearing a school uniform is more like cosplay for her. “Hoshino, if there are any inappropriate thoughts running through that head of yours, I’ll knock you off this bike right here and now.” She’s awfully perceptive for someone with her eyes on the road. “So, um, anyway, you learned how to ride a motorcycle only during all your transfers, right? That means this bike probably wasn’t yours to begin with. Who’s the owner? Your dad, maybe?” I don’t know much about motorcycles, but this doesn’t seem like the model a lady would ride. “I don’t know.” “…Huh?” “Pretty careless to leave your keys in your bike while it’s just sitting outside your house, don’t you think?” I can’t argue with that, but does that mean she…? “Chain locks are easy to break if you have the right tools. This bike is always in the same state every time I transfer. To no one’s surprise.” I decide not to press the topic any further. I don’t know anything at all. Nope, nothing at all. “If you lose your memory, will you forget how to drive, along with all the other skills and knowledge you’ve picked up?” That would be such a huge waste. “…” She doesn’t answer. “Otonashi?” Still nothing. Maybe… “Were you also thinking it would be a big waste, Otonashi?” Maybe the skills and know-how she seems to have picked up at random aren’t all just to kill the time. Not even Otonashi would relish the thought of parting with all these talents. That’s why she doesn’t want to lose her memory. She pushed herself to master these skills in order to create that reluctance. And in that case… It takes a while, but my train of thought finally arrives at the real question: Why did Otonashi pretend to forget everything? Our destination is a hotel that, while I wouldn’t exactly call it first-rate, is the most expensive place around here and definitely beyond the means of any high school student. After checking in with well-practiced ease, Otonashi turns down the bellboy’s offer to show us the way and sets off without a moment’s hesitation. She plops down on the sofa as soon as we’re in the room. I sit down on the bed, trying to keep my excitement at being in a luxury hotel in check. When I think about it, it’s crazy that I’m here alone in a hotel room with a woman. But that woman happens to be Otonashi, so it doesn’t really feel like that kind of situation. In fact, I’m not nervous at all. “I should’ve figured you’d be rich, too. Or at least you kinda seemed like you would be.” “Whether I’m wealthy or not doesn’t matter. All the money I spend returns to me with each transfer anyway.” “…Now that you mention it, that’s true. That means I could go buy every single Umaibo in the convenience store. Awesome!” “Who cares? We didn’t come here to talk about trivial matters like snacks, did we?” “N-no, you’re right. What exactly do we need to talk about?” “The direction we’re going to take from here on out. Now that my theory that you were the one responsible for all this has collapsed, I’m lost at sea here.” “Sorry about that.” “Spare me your sarcasm.” I wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. “So why not find out who the real culprit is? I know that’s easier said than done, but it seems like losing this preconception that I’m the one responsible is a major development.” “…Hoshino, I’ve transferred 27,754 times now. Do you understand that?” “…What do you mean?” “We talked a bit about this last time. Even if I did wrongly assume you were the culprit, that doesn’t mean I stopped suspecting other people. When I interacted with other possible leads, I always kept the idea that I could be wrong in the forefront of my mind… The fact that I misidentified you as my target only shows that I was still careless, of course.” “So you didn’t find anyone else as suspicious as I was?” “That’s right. I’ve been at this over and over for 27,754 times. The only one who wouldn’t show their true colors in all that time would have to be the owner of the Box.” “Hmm, do you think maybe you were too obvious in your searching, and they figured out you were after them?” “It’s still not possible. Even if they were on guard, we’re talking about 27,754 times through the cycle here. Are you saying the owner has the smarts and endurance to stay hidden for all that time? Well, the bottom line is I still haven’t been able to find them. Dammit, why? The owner of the Box has to be one of the people who is in the classroom.” “…Hold on a minute. You’re saying that the culprit has to be in the classroom? It absolutely has to be one of our classmates?” Now that I think about it, Otonashi did mention last time that there weren’t many suspects. “No, any teachers and students from other classes who come into room 1-6 are also suspects. As the name suggests, the Rejecting Classroom encompasses exclusively classroom 1-6. The only people caught in this are those who entered that area between March second and March third.” ……? Then why can I leave the classroom and see other people? “I can tell by your face that you don’t get it. Hoshino, do you really think it’s possible to rewind time?” “Um…” What is she getting at? If you deny that idea, then the whole premise of the Rejecting Classroom collapses. “…But it’s the Box that makes all that possible, right?” “Correct. It’s possible as long as the Box is there. But what I’m asking here is your opinion. Do you truly believe that having something like the Box would allow time to be rewound at all? Do you believe the phenomenon is possible to begin with?” I have no clue what Otonashi’s trying to tell me. “I…” All I can do is give my honest answer to her questions, without worrying too much about the meaning behind them. “I think that nothing will change what’s already occurred.” I’ve wished more times than I can count that I could reverse time. But I don’t think I’d believe in time travel even if time machines were real. Even if I hopped back to the past, I don’t think I would believe it until I saw undeniable proof. Maybe my doubts would persist no matter what sort of proof was presented to me. I’m not sure if that’s the answer she’s looking for, but Otonashi nods her head with a hmm. “I think your understanding of things may be normal. Perhaps the one who made the Rejecting Classroom sees things the same way you do.” “What are you saying?” “The Box granted their wish to its fullest extent. Completely, to the last little detail. In other words, when it granted the owner’s wish, the Box included their inability to believe it’s possible to rewind time. Do you understand what I’m saying?” “Um…” You want to reverse time. But at the same time, you don’t think it’s possible. The attempt to reconcile these views probably twists the wish. That’s something I can get my head around. “So do you think you’re actually being returned to the past?” “Hoshino, have I ever once expressed this situation as ‘being returned to the past’?” I’m not sure, mostly because I’ve lost almost all my memories of the time I spent with Otonashi. “I’ll keep this short. If the Rejecting Classroom was born from someone’s wish to rewind time, it’s a sorry attempt. A work of inferior quality—defective.” “Okay, then why have you experienced all of this over twenty thousand times?” “Hmph. Well, that in itself is proof of how broken the classroom is. If time were being rewound perfectly, there’s no reason my memories should be so precisely excluded from what it’s targeting. And even before that, if the repetition is so perfect, why was someone like me who wasn’t originally part of the class able to infiltrate it as a transfer student?” Otonashi gives me a sidelong glance. “Knowing you, your thought process probably led you to some cheap notion that anything is possible for me.” Well, she has me there. No arguing that. “In short, all I did was sneak inside the Box. I didn’t intend to be treated as a transfer student, for instance. That’s just the role the culprit gave me. The setting of the Rejecting Classroom is room 1-6, so my being a transfer student was the most natural explanation for the sudden appearance of a newcomer who’s roughly the same age as the students. Basically, the culprit’s sense of balance found a way to keep things plausible.” “…?” I don’t really get what she means. Keep things plausible? What does that have to do with anything? “Ugh, why are you always so slow on the uptake? Fine, let’s frame it this way: Say the Rejecting Classroom is a movie directed by the culprit. All the filming is done, so all that’s left is the editing. But then, all of a sudden, the director gets word from the producers that there’s an actor they absolutely have to have in the film for commercial reasons. All the parts have already been cast, but the director can’t just stick the actor on the screen without giving them a role. It would derail the entire production. So the director makes the most minimal of rewrites possible to the screenplay and assigns the actor a part. And that’s how I was made into a transfer student to keep things logical.” “In other words, the culprit couldn’t keep you from getting into the classroom, so they had to find some way to make you a part of it. They were forced to make you into a sudden transfer student and put together your life for March second. Is that what you mean?” “Exactly. But even then there was still something off about my presence in the Rejecting Classroom, right? It’s a pain to explain every little detail, so I’ll just jump to the conclusion. This is not reality. Nothing is repeating itself. It’s just a small, isolated space. This is all an ill-conceived ‘wish’ that will continue to exist as long as a single person, even the culprit, believes that time is looping.” “Uh…and that’s why you were saying that the loop is imperfect?” “Yes. The one who made the wish doesn’t believe that time can turn back; all they’re doing is refusing to let time move forward. They’re rejecting it. All the owner of the Box needs to do is continue pulling the wool over their own eyes.” “Does that flaw also explain why you and I can keep our memories?” “Most likely. Our respective reasons for the ability could be different, but I have no doubt that they’re due to the defects of the Rejecting Classroom.” There’s one thing I still can’t get my head around. “So just who are you?” Otonashi’s displeasure is obvious. I guess she didn’t want to hear that. “Ah, well…I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but…” Though the scowl never leaves her face, she opens her mouth to speak. “I don’t have some sort of easy-to-understand title like you’re hoping for. ‘I’m just a student’…is what I would like to say, but I suppose that label hasn’t really applied since a year ago. So what is my role…? I’ve never really given it a name, but there’s probably only one way to put it. I am…” Otonashi spits out the next words as if it genuinely pains her to do so. “…a Box.” “You’re a Box? What do you mean?” Her brows furrow even more when I parrot her answer back to her in confusion. “There are certain things that prevent me from explaining in more detail, so I can’t say any more than that.” I guess it’s obvious I’m not pleased about her inability to clarify, because Otonashi continues speaking after glancing at me. “But I can tell you this. I have obtained and used a Box in the past.” “Whaaat?!!” “That, and my wish is still being granted.” So Otonashi has a Box, too? “I’m sure you must be curious as to why I’m still looking for a Box if I already have one. That’s fine. I’ll tell you. My wish was certainly granted. But at the same time, I lost everything.” “What do you mean, ‘everything’?” “My family, my friends, my classmates, my relatives, my teachers, my neighbors, the people I was close to—I lost all of them thanks to my wish. Everyone who was ever involved with me is gone.” I’m speechless. “You mean that…literally, right? Not just some figure of speech?” “That’s right. And I can’t just let things stay where they are. That’s what keeps me moving.” Otonashi has lost everything. She has nothing more to fear. Perhaps that’s why she’s so focused and bold. Exactly what “wish” did Otonashi put in the Box that would leave her in this state? “Is there any way you can break that Box? If you break it, won’t that negate the wish?” “Hoshino.” A hint of warning creeps into Otonashi’s tone as she replies to my natural question. “The Box is still granting my wish, understand? Don’t make me say any more than that.” I get it. Of course Otonashi considered that some question like this might pop into my head. Basically, the Box took everything from Otonashi. But that still wasn’t enough to make her want to negate its wish. While I silently mull this over, Otonashi pulls herself together and resumes the conversation. “My wish and the wish of the owner of the Rejecting Classroom are incompatible with each other. That’s just the way Boxes work. So now that I’ve come in here, I fight back to reduce its ability to get in my way. But I should stress that all I’m doing is lessening it. Put another way, not even I can completely avoid the influence of the Rejecting Classroom. I’m not sure just how much it’s affected me. If I succumb to it, I could end up trapped here myself… But I get the feeling I told you that a long time ago.” If everything she’s saying is true, then what does the owner of the Rejecting Classroom think about Otonashi? I have a hard time believing it’s anything good. “Anyway, it seems you’ve managed to digest all of that, so let’s get back to the matter at hand. It’s probably impossible to obtain and use the Rejecting Classroom at this point. The owner has already expended its power. That’s why all we need to worry about is putting an end to it.” “And how can we do that?” “We’d have to tear the Box away from the culprit. Or perhaps crush them. That’s about it. However, if we can find the one who gives out the Boxes, we may be able to convince them to do something. They’re not likely to be inside with us, though, so that isn’t a realistic option.” The one who gives out the Boxes? I’m about to ask more but then decide not to. Even though I’ve met , it’s like I don’t know about them, nor do I want to. “……Basically, we have to find the one behind all this before we can get anywhere, correct?” “Oh? ‘Get anywhere,’ you say? Are you trying to tell me you think everything until now was completely meaningless? That it was an unproductive waste of time? You’ve got a lot of nerve.” “N-no, I was just asking…” “Hmph. So then I guess you mean to tell me your knowledge and quick wits could be the key to solving these riddles I couldn’t handle on my own. Don’t tell me that you said what you did without a single idea in your head?” “…Ungh…” I wince. I don’t have any breakthroughs. “If you understand that, then you should also understand that there is no reason why I can’t find the owner. But there is one thing… Unlike others, the owner isn’t allowed to die within the Rejecting Classroom. My life has ended countless times in the classroom, yet I’m still here, and I haven’t lost my Box.” “It’s different for the owner, though?” “Yeah. Owners and their Boxes are connected. The instant the owner of this Box dies, the Rejecting Classroom will collapse. I’ve confirmed this in several similar instances, so I’m sure it’s true. The Box is destroyed at the moment of its owner’s death. This would also cause the special nature of the Rejecting Classroom to disappear, and the concept of death would be restored.” “And that would cause the owner to die as normal…?” “Correct.” “That means we can say for sure that I’m not the one behind this. And of course you aren’t, either.” “Right.” That also means Mogi isn’t on the list of suspects. She’s died in the accident plenty of times before. “…So what about our missing classmates? Do you think that has anything to do with death?” “I’m not certain, but I don’t think it does. It’s probably another feature of the Rejecting Classroom, though I can’t really guess why it’s there.” Hold on a second. I suddenly realize something—a way to easily identify the person at the root of it all. The blood drains from my face. What am I thinking?! It’s too hideous to even consider. But, but… Aya Otonashi could do it. I can’t bring myself to voice the thought aloud. At the same time, I’m surprised that she hasn’t already come up with the idea herself. There’s no way she wouldn’t have thought of this. Then why hasn’t she tried it? Could it be that…? “Hoshino.” I jerk back to attention at the sound of my name. “What are you thinking about? Don’t tell me you’ve come up with some means of uncovering the owner?” My body twitches again. “You did think of something, didn’t you…?” “Uh, no, I—” “It’s no use trying to fool me. Don’t forget how much time I’ve spent with you. I was on your tail for longer than I was on anyone else’s here. Not that I wanted to be.” I know that. You don’t need Otonashi’s sharp instincts to tell that I’m trying to hide something. “…” That doesn’t make my idea any easier to put into words, though. “Even someone as slow as you should know by now that I’m not the most patient of people, Hoshino.” I’m not dealing with someone who’d buy any old lie. Once I open my mouth, she’ll get the truth out of me in the end, no matter how much I try to avoid it. But still… “Hoshino!!” Otonashi grabs me by the collar. It hurts. Like, seriously. Of course it does. This girl willingly suffered repeating a day more than twenty thousand times just to get the Box. “Say it! Tell me your idea!!” I know I’ll regret it if I do. But can I really keep my mouth shut under these circumstances? That’s why I voice my idea in the end. “We need to kill all our classmates.” It’s that simple. If dying even once eliminates someone as a possible suspect, then that’s what needs to happen. We have to kill them all. That’s the simple, reprehensible truth. Everyone who dies in here comes back to life, though, so there’s really nothing to worry about. I could never be so cut-and-dried about it, but I’m sure Otonashi could. She’s created tons of corpses to help her hold on to her memories, after all. I’m still curious as to whether this hasn’t crossed her mind before, though. Why hasn’t she stumbled upon this strategy not just to retain her memory, but also as a means of narrowing down the list of suspects? Why wouldn’t she choose to implement an efficient strategy that could’ve ended this in just forty or so times? No response. No reaction. I slowly raise my eyes to look at her face. With a tight hold on my collar, she’s regarding me with an unblinking stare. “That…” Otonashi quietly releases her grip. “That’s not a strategy at all.” “…What?” “That’s like human experimentation. The best way to test the effects of something on the body is to use a human subject, but the method should never even be an option,” Otonashi softly whispers, never looking away from me. “Why? The answer is simple: because it’s inhumane. The moment you do something like that, you can no longer call yourself a human being… Ah well, I am a Box, after all. Maybe that’s why. Maybe that’s why you…” There is pure, undiluted rage boiling in her eyes. “You don’t think of me as a human!” I can understand her anger. I’d probably feel the same way if someone viewed me like that. It was a thoughtless thing to say. All the same, I still don’t get it. “But didn’t you kill people to make sure your memories carried over?” “……What’re you saying?” Otonashi shoots me a sharp look, as if she finds the accusation unbearable. “…Y-you created scenes that would burn themselves into your mind in order to hang on to your memory.” “I’ve had enough of your insults! I thought I just explained this. I can resist the effects of the Rejecting Classroom because I’m a Box!” She’s right. The idea that she was killing others to retain her memories was just Daiya’s hypothesis. But even that isn’t enough for me to accept what happened. “Why are you making that face? If you’ve got something to say, say it!” Otonashi seizes me by the collar again. This time I meet her angry glare with one of my own. It isn’t like I was working myself up to do this. I didn’t even consider the implications of doing something so unlike myself as glaring back at her. I’m in the palm of Otonashi’s hand. I know that much, and that’s exactly why I’m here talking with her like this now. But my next words wrecked that: “If you care so much about human lives, then why did you kill me?!” And that’s when all words between us are lost. After that fateful accusation, things didn’t return to normal between Otonashi and me. She had no retort for me, not even an angry look. I was nonexistent to her. Naturally, I was as powerless before her as always, so my only recourse was to leave the hotel. I’ve been loitering out front for a little while, but that’s nothing more than my lingering emotions. Just wasting time. Glancing out of the corner of my eye at the bike Otonashi “borrowed” from somebody, I start walking. I stop by a convenience store and buy a bottle of tea. I sip on it for a while, and by the time it’s empty, I realize I can’t really recall what I was drinking. This could be the end. Unlike Otonashi, I have no idea whether my memories will stay with me next time. If she no longer has any use for me, I’ll eventually forget everything and be expelled from the Rejecting Classroom. I’ll disappear like all the others. The road is silent. There are no streetlights. No color at all. It’s like the person who made this world didn’t bother to fill in all the details. I raise the empty bottle to my lips. It’s like if I don’t pretend to drink, I’ll be swallowed myself… What is it? I can’t pinpoint what’s bothering me. Suddenly, I can hear the music of my favorite band in the quiet street. What’s going on? Oh, that’s just my ringtone… My ringtone? Does that mean someone’s calling me? Oh yeah, that’s right! I don’t remember doing it, but I must have given her my number, maybe in one of the other worlds. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket. The caller ID on the screen reads “Kokone Kirino.” I look up at the sky. I know things never work out that easily, but it doesn’t hurt to hope. I take a breath to compose myself and then answer the phone. “Oh, hey, Kazu.” I could be wrong, but I can’t detect the usual energy in Kokone’s voice. Maybe she’s always like this on the phone? We’re friends and all, but I’ve never really had a phone conversation with her before. “Um, hey…” I have the feeling I know where this is going. Yeah, I’m sure of it. I just can’t remember it all right now. “Can you come meet me somewhere?” What is it? What happens next? “There’s something I have to tell you, Kazu.” 3,087th Time It’s a fact that I love Umaibo, but I’m actually not a huge fan of the teriyaki burger flavor. We’re in the run-down park in front of her house, talking in front of the fountain. I’m eating the Umaibo she gave me. “…So what do you think?” “……Hmm, uh, I guess it’s not too bad.” “I wasn’t asking about your snack.” I know that, but my mind is racing too much to answer anything else. “…Will you go out with me, then?” My experiences in love have been so few that even that question doesn’t freak me out as much as it should. Either way, my classmate is probably just as nervous as I am. I’ve never seen her like this before. Her eyes are always large, but they seem especially so now. Maybe it’s the new mascara she tried this morning. She’s watching me intently. I can’t help but look away. At a loss for what to do, I feel like I have to say something. “So…I guess that means you like me?” The face of the girl before me turns bright red. “…I think so.” “You think so?” I repeat her words as a question without thinking. “……Wh-why would you ask me that? You know what my answer is… O-or do you just want to hear me say it?” “Ah…!” I lower my eyes as I finally realize how insensitive that was. “I’m sorry.” I apologize by reflex. She meets my gaze through her lashes and whispers: “…Yes, I like you.” She’s so adorable in that moment that I break eye contact. The affection radiating from her is melting my heart. It doesn’t hurt that she’s good-looking, too. She’s so cheerful and always has a crowd around her. I know she’s turned down more than a few suitors, too. I would probably really enjoy going out with her, but… “I’m sorry.” But that’s my response. I’m surprised at how easily I could say that. I know I’m passing up a great opportunity. It’s just that I can’t see myself going out with her. It wouldn’t feel real. The hope in her eyes disappears, and tears replace it. I can’t make myself look, even though I know I’m the one responsible. I can’t find the words. If I open my mouth, the only thing that’ll come out is “Sorry.” “……It was hard for you to say, wasn’t it?” I nod at her hushed words. “…Hey, you like Umaibo, right?” I nod at that, too, despite the lack of context. “You aren’t such a big fan of the teriyaki burger flavor, though.” “…Yeah.” “Which one’s your favorite?” “Um…maybe corn potage?” I answer unsteadily, unable to figure out why she’s asking me this. “I see. I see, I see…” Her head bobs in time with her words. “Ha-ha, I guess I failed.” There’s nothing special about her remark, but for some reason I can’t get over it. Like how shoddy editing in a video sticks out like a sore thumb. “So maybe if I’d made a move on you differently, you might’ve gone out with me?” She keeps her head low as she says this. I’m not so sure I would have. My thoughts are so conflicted… On second thought, no. I know what I would’ve done. I would’ve turned her down, no matter what. And my answer will never change, as long as it’s the same me and the same circumstances. As long as it’s today, I can never imagine myself dating her. As long as it’s today, I’ll always turn her down. “That look on your face says you’re not so sure.” I can’t say anything in response to that. She takes my silence as a yes and finally gives a little smile. “Okay, I get it. I’ll just keep after you until you finally return my feelings.” Maybe it’s not a bad idea. That’s the least I can give her after turning her down so bluntly. Still—it won’t work if it’s any day before tomorrow. 27,754th Time After everything imploded between Otonashi and me, not to mention my unexpected summons from Kokone, I’m thoroughly spent… That’s just an excuse, though. The truth is that I completely forgot. There’s an accident that always occurs at this intersection, like clockwork. I’m in no danger myself. The shock of dying was enough that the collision now instantly surfaces in my mind like a conditioned response as soon as I approach the intersection. Keeping myself out of danger isn’t an issue. That alone isn’t enough to guarantee that disaster won’t strike, though. Assuming the accident here is inevitable, all it means is that the truck will hit someone else. That’s what always escapes me, and that’s why I’m unable to save anyone. Even though I know someone will be hurt, I’ve never prevented it. Forgetfulness is the cheapest of excuses. I’m absolute scum. I might as well be killing the victim myself. Kasumi Mogi is at the intersection. The girl I like. The truck comes barreling down the road as it always does. It’s impossible to do anything for her from where I stand. No matter how fast I run, I’ll never close that distance in time. She’ll end up covered in blood. The girl I like will become a bloody mess. And it’ll happen because of me. Again and again, I’ll watch it happen; again and again, the girl I like will be dyed in red. Again and again, it’ll be my fault. “AAAAAAAHHHH!!” I sprint toward the truck. Am I doing it to try and save Mogi? No. That isn’t it at all. I’m just pretending to do something so I can satisfy my guilty conscience with the claim that I tried. I’m scum, the lowest of the low. And then I watch it happen. “Huh…?” The girl I have no chance of saving is pushed out of the way of the truck. It isn’t me. She’s always too far for me to reach, even at my most frantic. There’s only one person who could. The girl who always struggles on alone as I cast aside my memories and pretend not to know. She’ll never make it. She’ll never have time to save herself. All the same, Aya Otonashi runs out to save Mogi. There it is. Now I remember. I’ve witnessed this very scene many times before. Things are always repeating themselves, anyway. Even Mogi’s survival will fade into nothingness. All that remains is a memory nearly as painful as dying, the fear of witnessing death right before my eyes, and the despair of knowing that all of this will occur again and again. Despite everything, Aya Otonashi leaps in front of the truck to save whoever who will be hit that day, over and over and over again. I understand now. How could I have forgotten this? There’s the sound of heavy impact and a deafening crash as the truck continues along its course and plows through the wall along the road. The cacophony threatens to overwhelm me, but I still manage to make my way to Otonashi. Next to her, Mogi lies stiff as a board right where she landed, her expression blank in shock. I look at Otonashi. Her left leg is twisted at an impossible angle. She’s covered in a thick sweat, and as she sees me, she speaks with an expression so brave one would hardly suspect she was injured. “I killed you last time.” Her words are clear and precise, though it must be torture for her to speak. “I thought this would end if I killed the owner of the Box. I was wrong. But at the time, I believed that what I was doing was the only way to escape from the Rejecting Classroom. I thought I was doing the right thing, because once I got out of the classroom, I would reset, and the me who was forced to such inhuman extremes would disappear.” Everything finally falls into place. I know why Otonashi pretended to forget everything this time. She lost all respect for herself. She couldn’t forgive herself for thinking it was okay if I died when I had my accident. Her guilt was enough to make her cast aside the goal of obtaining the Box that kept her going for so long, and even the thought of escaping the Rejecting Classroom. It was enough that she couldn’t fight back when I screamed: “If you care so much about human lives, then why did you kill me?!” How could I have said such a horrible thing to her, especially when I had no basis for it? Last time, I dashed out to save Mogi and ended up dying in the accident. Just as I assumed Otonashi was in essence murdering Mogi with the truck, I assumed she had killed me. I held on to this assumption, and it became why I said what I did. I should have known from the moment she vehemently denied the very thought of murdering our classmates. The truth was only that she arrived too late to save my life. For some reason, this accident is unavoidable. Someone is always inevitably hit by the truck, and it just happened to be me that time. “Heh, it’s all so laughable. My crimes wouldn’t vanish just because I forgot them. The Rejecting Classroom didn’t vanish, and I now have no choice but to live with myself knowing how low I sank. Not even poetic justice is enough for this.” She coughs up a bit of blood as she finishes her last words. “Otonashi, if you’re in pain, you shouldn’t talk…” “But when else will I get the chance? I’m used to the pain. It all depends on how you think about it. I’d rather experience temporary pain like this than the long, drawn out agony of a chronic illness.” I don’t think anyone can say they’ve “gotten used to” getting hit by a truck. “I didn’t lose my memory or escape from the Rejecting Classroom. Heh-heh, I feel like I already knew that, though. That I would never be released.” “…Why?” “It’s so simple. I know exactly why. My obsession won’t let go of me that easily.” Otonashi struggles unsteadily to her feet. She should’ve stayed where she was, but I get the feeling she can’t stand me looking down on her. Her left leg is completely useless. She doubles over in a coughing fit, spitting up blood. But once she’s able to lean against the guardrail for support, she seems to stand as tall as ever, watching me all the while. Maybe because of Otonashi’s movement, Mogi stirs from where she was lying in frozen, blank-faced shock. She looks over at me fearfully. “…Mogi, are you all right?” “……Eek!” She screams as if she’s remembering what happened. “Wh-what were you two just talking about…? Not just now, since yesterday. Who are you?” …What? Who is she looking at like that? Who would fill her eyes with such terror? …I already know. She’s looking at me. I can’t bear to see her so frightened, and instinctively, I reach out to cup her face with my hand. “D-don’t touch me!!” Of course… What was I thinking? It’s obviously me she’s scared of, so what did I think trying to touch her would do? Did I really think that would put her at ease? Can I even help her calm down at all? No, I can’t. “Who…are you…?” My hands clench into fists. I can’t explain anything, so I have to just take her frightened stare. I want to tell Mogi everything right now. She might understand my situation. But I know it would be the wrong thing to do. I have to fight. I have to beat the Rejecting Classroom. In order to do that, I have to reject the daily life it’s forcing us to relive. I set myself on that course the moment I took Otonashi’s hand. I’ll throw it all away. The idea that Mogi might smile at my words someday, that she might blush, that she’ll let me rest my head in her lap—all of it. With no explanation forthcoming from me, Mogi gives up trying to understand and stands, frightened. She begins backing away from us, obviously praying that we won’t come after her, before turning and running away on feet so unsteady it seems she could topple over at any moment. I watch her go, never once averting my gaze. This is exactly the way I hoped things would happen. “I can tell you’re determined.” Otonashi saw everything from where she was leaning against the guardrail. “That’s why I’ve made up my mind, too. I won’t focus my efforts anymore on obtaining the Box in order to achieve my goal.” “…What?” This is a problem. I can’t have this. I need Otonashi. I’m about to cut in and try to stop her, when… “Instead, I’m going to help you.” “…Huh?” Those are the last words I expected to hear from her. Help me? Aya Otonashi is going to help me? “You’re standing there like some sort of slack-jawed idiot. I said I’m going to work with you. Didn’t you hear me?” This goes against the laws of nature, like the sun rising in the west and setting in the east. “I was lost. As you pointed out, I killed you and, in doing so, reduced myself to something less than human. I just didn’t want to admit it, so I became a coward who denied it and fled from her own purpose. The bottom line is that the Rejecting Classroom had me beat. I’m just a Box, and after that defeat, I went astray, believing there was no longer anything I could do.” Though she’s berating herself, the strong light burning in Otonashi’s eyes fills me with a bit of relief. “But there’s no longer any reason to be lost. I’m ashamed of my actions, but that’s no reason to wither in despair. Regrets won’t solve anything. I’m through running. I’ll embrace my sin and help you as my penance. So please…” Otonashi closes her mouth, mustering her strength for what she’s about to say. As she begins to speak again, she regards me with something bordering on a glare. “So please, forgive me.” Ah, now I understand. That’s what this is all about. This strange behavior is her way of apologizing. However, her entreaty is all but meaningless. “I can’t.” My blunt response seems to catch her off guard momentarily, but she quickly recovers her stern expression. “I see… It certainly would be impossible to forgive someone for murdering you. That’s only natural.” “That’s not it.” My words must have puzzled her, because she’s frowning. “I mean…I don’t even know what I’m supposed to forgive.” That’s right. It isn’t that I won’t forgive her so much as that I can’t forgive her, because in my mind, she hasn’t done anything wrong. “…What’re you saying, Hoshino? I—” “You killed me?” “…Yes.” “What’re you talking about?” I can’t help but smile. “I’m right here, aren’t I?” It’s the truth, plain and simple. “I’m right here, Otonashi.” No matter how responsible she feels, it’s not like what she did was irredeemable. In fact, I can’t understand why she feels like it was her fault in the first place. It’s not like she’s the one who made the Rejecting Classroom, after all. She’s just caught in its trap like the rest of us. No, that isn’t right. She isn’t just some victim. She’s in control. She appreciates how all our minds work and can interpret our behavior. No matter where she throws a stone in here, she knows exactly how the ripples will spread. Otonashi is just as much the master of this realm as the one who created it, perhaps even more so. It’s precisely because Otonashi has so much control here that she feels responsible for everything that happens. She feels that if she only planned better, she could have saved me from death. In her mind, the fact that she couldn’t prevent my death, that she didn’t prevent it, is the same as having killed me with her own hands. But Otonashi said it herself: Death in the Rejecting Classroom is a sham. “It’s not weighing on my mind at all. If it still bothers you that much, though, just say what you feel you need to say, and we’ll call it even.” Otonashi is motionless, the frown still on her face. When she finally stirs, it’s just to lower her head. “Heh-heh…” Her shoulders are shaking? Huh? Is something wrong with her? I look her over uneasily. “Heh-heh… Ha-ha… Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” She’s laughing! And really laughing, too!! “H-hey! What’s so funny?! I don’t get it!!” My protests seem to fall on deaf ears as Otonashi continues for a moment. What the hell? …Here I was feeling proud of myself for finally saying something cool, only to find out it all just came across as a joke… Having had her fill of laughter, Otonashi recovers her usual sternness and addresses me where I stand pouting. “I have transferred 27,754 times.” “…I’m well aware of that.” “I thought I had a complete understanding of every single thing you could say or do, but I would never have predicted you would say what you did just now. Do you understand how amusing that is for someone as used to boredom as me?” Otonashi sounds pleased, but it’s hard to tell if she’s being sincere. I tilt my head, confused. “You are truly interesting, Hoshino. I’ve never met anyone like you. You seem so ordinary, with no passion or drive toward anything, but the truth is, there isn’t a human being out there as bizarrely obsessed with maintaining the mundanity of normal life as you. That’s why you’re able to be so clear-cut about the falseness of this world, even more than I am.” More than Otonashi? “That’s not true. I’m not clear-cut about anything. It still hurts to see the accident each time, even though I know soon enough it’ll all be like it never happened…” “Of course it does. That has nothing to do with viewing our situation rationally. When something terrible happens to the characters in books or movies, you feel as bad for them as you would for a real person, right? It’s exactly the same thing.” I’m not completely sure, but I think I see what she’s getting at. “Hoshino.” “What?” “I’m sorry.” It’s so sudden that I don’t know what she’s talking about at first. Her pleasant expression has suddenly vanished. “The truth is that I was ashamed of my inability to stop what happened. I’m sorry.” “I-it’s fine…” This sincere apology from someone so high above my level is almost unbearable. I stammer over my words like a suspect facing an interrogation. How pathetic. “I assume that little bit of courtesy takes care of things between us? I will continue to read, understand, and control you just as before. That’s what you want, right?” “Y-yeah…” “Apologies—I suppose they are necessary sometimes, but I feel like that’s the first one I’ve made in several decades.” I’m pretty sure that’s the truth, too. “Now then, it’s almost time.” “Time?” “Time for the 27,754th transfer to end and the 27,755th to begin.” “Oh, I see.” I’m surprised at how naturally I accept this decidedly odd event as completely normal. Surveying the area, I see that people have gathered around as they always do when a major accident occurs. I see several of them wearing the school uniform I know so well. Kokone’s there, too. Otonashi and I were ignoring all of this, continuing our conversation meant for just the two of us. Even the normally emotionless Mogi was terrified of Otonashi standing there covered in blood and me talking to her like everything was fine. It’s definitely crazy, no two ways about it. I extend my hand to Otonashi. Someone had rejected that hand once before, but Otonashi quickly reaches out and grips it firmly. My mind is suddenly assaulted by an enormous pressure that threatens to crush it like a vise. The world folds in on itself like a coin purse snapping shut. It’s closed, but everything is white. White. White. For some reason I can tell that the unstable surface below us has become something sickly sweet, like candy, as if I can somehow taste it through my skin instead of my tongue. Though the sensation isn’t entirely unpleasant, it’s still disturbing, and I eventually come to realize that I’m experiencing the end of the 27,754th transfer. There we are, within the soft, pure-white sweetness of despair. 0th Time Until I was sixteen, I didn’t realize “love changes everything” isn’t just a figure of speech. How many times had I thought that life was too long as I trudged along by force of habit? My fingers and toes probably aren’t enough to count the number of times I seriously thought I would be okay with dying. I was bored. Bored beyond all hope. I never breathed a word of it to anyone, though, and I kept up the pretense that I was as happy as always. Exposing my true feelings only led to trouble. That’s why I did my best to get along with anyone and everyone, regardless of who they were. It’s not that hard to do. As long you aren’t too picky about your likes and dislikes, what you are and aren’t into, you can be friends with anybody. Everyone flocked to me, and they all said the same thing: “Oh, you’re having so much fun. You must not have a care in the world.” Why yes, you’re right. Thank you so much for letting me fool you all so easily. I really appreciate your ever-so-considerate ignorance of all the awful things inside me. Thanks to you, I’m ready to give up everything. I think I know when this stagnation took hold of me. Everyone is so selfish. I told a boy my e-mail address. When I responded to his messages as I normally would, he got all excited and told me he liked me. When I tried to be nice and reached out to a boy who didn’t have much luck with girls, he got the wrong idea and confessed his feelings for me. A boy invited me to a movie, and when I went because I found it hard to say no, he professed his love for me. A boy and I happened to share the same path back from school, and after we walked home together several times, he declared his affection for me. Each one acted so betrayed, selfishly allowed his feelings to be hurt, and started hating me. The girls who liked these boys took it upon themselves to despise me, too—for their own self-centered reasons. The pain stung each time, until one I day noticed I had so many wounds that I could no longer tell which ones were fresh. I decided not to worry about how I dealt with others and treated them as casual distractions only. I’d maintain a proper sense of the mood and keep my conversations shallow. I’d never show anyone what I was like inside. Like a clam, I’d close my shell tight to protect my tender body. That was when the boredom started. No one noticed I was letting them see my outer shell only. They all kept saying, “Oh, you’re having so much fun. You must not have a care in the world.” My efforts were a huge success. I just wanted everyone to disappear. It all started one unremarkable day after school. I stood surrounded by strangers pretending to be my friends, and I was making the same frivolous comments as usual with a smile on my face. It was sudden. Nothing prompted it, really. But the force of it was undeniable. My understanding of my current state took shape in a mere moment, and I was presented with the word that embodied it perfectly: Loneliness. Oh. I’m incredibly…lonely. Solitude. That’s what it was. Despite having so many others around me, I felt alone. The term fit so perfectly that I felt a strange sense of comfort in it. But it wasn’t long before that word turned on me with savage fangs. I learned for the first time that unfathomable solitude is inevitably accompanied by pain. My chest hurt, and I found it hard to breathe. Even when I did manage to draw in a breath, my lungs stung as if the air were filled with needles. Everything went black for a moment, and I would’ve been fine with my life ending right then and there. But my vision soon returned to normal, and my life continued on. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. No clue. Help me. Help me, everyone. “What’s the matter?” Someone realized I wasn’t feeling right and called out to me. “That’s quite a smile. You must be having so much fun.” Huh? I’m smiling…? Without understanding why, I reached up and touched my cheeks. They were lifted in a smile. “I swear you always seem like you’re having the greatest time. You don’t worry about anything, do you?” I laughed out loud. “Yeah, I’m having fun,” I choked through the spasms. I laughed without even knowing the reason why. That was when the color began gradually fading from the people around me. One by one, they became transparent. They faded and faded, until I could no longer see them. I could hear voices addressing me from someplace that had nothing to do with me. Then I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but somehow I could give a proper response. None of it made any sense. Before I knew it, the classroom was empty. I was all alone. Somehow, I knew I was the one who had made it that way. I had rejected them all. “Well, I’ve got stuff to do, so I’m taking off.” I couldn’t see anyone, but I smiled and said it anyway as I grabbed my bag. That was how my relationships with others were—my conversations worked whether I was speaking to someone specific or not. I might as well be talking to a wall. But still, why? “…Um, are you okay?” I was sure no one was there, but I heard the words all the same. I had just walked through the school gates, but the voice pulled me back for a moment, allowing me to see the invisible people. I turned around to find one of the boys from my class gasping for breath. He must have run after me. I was pretty sure his name was Kazuki Hoshino. We weren’t really friends, and nothing about him made much of an impression, so his name was basically all I knew about him. “What do you mean?” He would’ve asked only if he noticed something wrong with me. That meant he’d sensed my shifting attitude, even though nobody near me did. “Uh…you seemed really…faraway, I guess… I mean, not that I would know, but it’s like you’re not all there in your life…” He stumbled over his words. I had absolutely no idea what he was trying to say. “Anyway…if I’ve got it wrong, that’s okay. Sorry for being weird.” The boy awkwardly started moving away from me. “…Wait.” He stopped, tilting his head slightly. “U-um…” I’d stopped him from leaving, but what was I actually going to say? Also, how had he been able to describe me as “faraway” as I stood there grinning in that empty classroom? “……Hey, do I look like I’m always having fun?” If he answered this like everyone else, that meant he was no different from them. Oh. I was actually incredibly hopeful. I really, truly wished that he would give me a negative response, that he would understand me. “Yeah. You, um…seem like you are.” It seemed like he struggled to say that. The instant I heard his answer, I became disenchanted with Kazuki Hoshino. He was meaningless to me. I hated him. I despised him. I was surprised how rapidly my emotions changed, like a pendulum swinging in the opposite direction, but that exemplified how much I’d hoped he would be different. But then this boy, who I had instantaneously come to hate, finished speaking: “You’re working hard to appear that way, aren’t you?” Again my emotions swung like a pendulum, this time away from loathing. My change of heart didn’t show on my face, but my chest grew strangely warm. I was working hard. I was trying so hard to look like I was having fun. He was correct. More perfectly correct than if he had simply answered no. That was how I fell in love. I was well aware that it was just a convenient assumption on my part. Just because he acknowledged my effort didn’t meant that he fully understood me. I knew that. But I still couldn’t completely dismiss the belief. At first, I thought my feelings would pass with time, but it wasn’t long before I knew there was no going back to the way I was before. My feelings for Kazuki grew and grew, like a pile of snow that never melts, until they engulfed my heart entirely. The possibility that he would soon become my everything weighed on me like a stone, but strangely, I didn’t find it unpleasant at all. Kazuki Hoshino had freed me from my solitary classroom and driven off my ennui. I knew that if he disappeared from my heart, I would slide right back to where I was before. Right back into the schoolroom of isolation. The world had changed. It was as simple as that. My previous dull existence seemed like a dream now. My emotions surged as if they were hooked up to a high-powered amplifier. Just exchanging hellos with Kazuki made me happy, but I was sad that it was all we did. Talking to him made me happy, but I was sad we could only chat a little. Something was clearly broken inside me. It was troubling yet pleasant. Yes! I’ll make friends with him no matter what! My first move is to get on a first-name basis with him. ……… “Do you have a wish?” I was in a place that could be anywhere but also nowhere. The figure that addressed me at once resembled everyone and no one. I couldn’t tell if they were male or female. Did I have a wish? Of course I did. “This is a Box that can make any wish come true.” I accepted the Box with my blood-soaked hands. I could tell it was real the moment I touched it. I knew there was no way I could ever give it up. Who would? There isn’t a person on earth who would refuse something like this. I made my wish. I knew it wasn’t possible, but I made it. “…I don’t want regrets, ever again.”
Chapter 5
58 min read