Naomi stared up at the board. There were chemical symbols and molecular diagrams sketched out on its surface: Fe, Cu, O2, H2O. All very simple molecules even he could make sense of.
“When we’re dealing with simple substances—stuff like water that has a very basic structure—it’s all quite simple. You can make that sort of thing easily and delete it just as fast.”
Naomi nodded. That was an easy enough concept to grasp.
“When it comes to complex objects, though, any modification will take time, and you may struggle to visualize them in sufficient detail. Intricate devices like PCs or smartphones are particularly tough. Same goes for manufactured machinery with a million different parts.”
Naomi considered the point. He might be able to create a passable imitation of the exterior of a car if pressed, but he had no idea what the interior components looked like. The same applied to computers.
“And of course, the most difficult of all to modify are living things.”
Sensei snapped his fingers. The writing on the whiteboard instantly changed, and new drawings appeared there, simple sketches of a dog, a cat, and a human being.
“Does that apply to everything that’s alive?”
“All living things are in a constant state of change. They require a vast amount of data to simulate. Here’s a quick question, on that note…” Sensei pointed a finger at Naomi. “Name the part of the human body that contains the largest quantity of data.”
“Um—” All the body parts and organs Naomi knew spun through his head, but after a moment, the wheel stopped at the most obvious answer.
“The brain?”
Sensei nodded, and Naomi breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
“The human brain’s storage capacity is enormous, and its contents are constantly shifting over time. Human consciousness, the manifestation of those contents, is essentially the densest possible form of information. Even with the God Hand, messing with that would be difficult.”
Naomi studied the thing he was wearing on his hand once again.
When Sensei had first described it, he’d assumed it was an all-powerful tool. Something capable of rewriting the fabric of reality should be able to change literally anything in this world. A part of him had hoped it might make impossible-seeming things very easy—like going out with Ichigyou Ruri.
The very idea still struck him as ridiculous, honestly. Naomi knew he wasn’t particularly appealing, even compared to other guys his age. He couldn’t think of a single reason why she would ever be attracted to him. They were supposedly going to start going out at some point in the future, but that seemed like an embarrassing fantasy right now.
And yet, this glove could rewrite the world. He’d hoped it could just…resolve the whole thing instantly, somehow.
Sensei had already snuffed out that brief glimmer of hope. The God Hand couldn’t make her fall in love with him, even if he wanted it to.
“I made that thing to help you prevent the accident.” When Naomi looked up, he found that Sensei was shaking his head in disapproval. “It’s not going to help you on the romantic front.”
There he goes reading my mind again…
Naomi averted his eyes awkwardly. Sensei was him, in a sense, so of course he’d know what he was thinking. That also made it impossible to deflect the criticism. All he could really do was pout.
What am I supposed to do, then? he thought, staring resentfully at the older man. If you know everything about me, you know I’m not capable of flirting with a girl.
Looking like he’d received that telepathic message, Sensei smirked evilly.
“Weren’t you listening to me last time? You can do anything now, Naomi.” He reached inside his coat. “The God Hand’s job is to prevent the accident…”
When he pulled his hand out, it was holding a notebook. It was a perfectly ordinary thing with a blue cover and a brand logo on the front, the kind used by college students. But judging from its tattered condition, it had been in active use for quite some time.
“And it’s my job to help you get the girl.”
On the cover of that notebook were the words: Ultimate Manual.
2.
IN KYOTO, THE BUSES were always crowded. You started off with that as a baseline, and then guessed how crowded it would be based on the route and the time of day.
For example, the morning rush hour in spring would see commuters jostling alongside tourists and kids on school trips. The buses got so overstuffed that no one could get on them for hours at a time. Once things got that bad, it was usually best to give up and tell yourself they weren’t running at all.
Comparatively speaking, the bus Naomi was currently riding wasn’t too packed. He was on the 13 Line a bit after 3 p.m, well before the evening rush, but after the flow of tourists had slowed down. Even so, the seats were all taken by sightseers heading to Nijo Castle or Kinkaku Temple. Six people, including Naomi, stood in the aisles.
Holding a strap with one hand, Naomi kept his phone up to his mouth with the other. A cord snaked from it to the earphones he was wearing. To anyone who saw him, it would look like he was on a phone call.
Naomi glanced to his side. Sensei was standing there, holding his tattered notebook open in his hands.
“On April 20th,” he read out in a voice only Naomi could hear, “I took the bus to borrow a book from the Kita branch of the city library.”
Naomi leaned over to look at the notebook and Sensei obligingly turned it in his direction. Thanks to their height difference, it was right at eye level. The pages were covered in text. There were numerous dated entries, each accompanied by handwritten descriptions of various mundane events.
“Something happened that day to bring the two of us a bit closer together,” Sensei said.
Naomi brought his phone a little closer to his mouth. This was a technique he’d thought up after humiliating himself the other day—a way to talk with Sensei in public without attracting attention. He’d just pretend he was on the phone with someone, instead of speaking to an invisible person standing next to him. It wasn’t especially polite behavior, but it beat getting looked at like some kind of lunatic.
“So, in other words,” he said, his voice soft with anxiety, “I just have to do what you did back then, Sensei. And then I’ll end up dating her, just like in the history AllTale recorded.”
He was thinking it over even as he spoke the words. It did seem obvious enough, really. If Sensei was telling the truth about the way things had turned out with Ruri, then events would naturally proceed in that direction.
But in that case—
“Couldn’t you just do nothing at all, then? Maybe we should just let things take their normal course.”
It couldn’t hurt to throw the idea out there. If events were going to move forward on their own, their efforts might backfire.
“Remember what I told you on the roof, Naomi,” Sensei replied sharply. “AllTale has infinite storage capacity. When one section of its records changes, it generates a whole string of brand-new events.”
Naomi nodded. That was the only reason Sensei’s plan to save Ruri’s life was even possible.