Chapter 3:
When the Rain Lets Up
AFTER CLASSES got out the next day, I stood waiting for Anzu at the entrance to the Urashima Tunnel, having gone straight there from school. It was about twenty minutes past the time we’d agreed to meet up, yet still she hadn’t shown. Having to wait for someone beneath the scorching midsummer sun with no means of contacting them was a form of torture I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemies. If I’d known this was going to happen, I would have suggested we walk there from school together. Finally, after nearly thirty minutes of waiting, Anzu came prancing airily down the wooden staircase, not in any rush whatsoever. I had to admit, she did look quite graceful, even with the big wad of gauze still strapped to her face.
“Hey. You been waiting long?” she asked.
“Yes. Like a full half hour, actually,” I grumbled.
“Wow, that sucks,” she said without a hint of remorse. “Anyway, check this out.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a spool of nylon rope, still in the shrink wrap. “Took me forever to find a store that sold this stuff. Never realized how inconvenient living out in the boonies would be.”
“Why do we need that, exactly?”
“Heh heh…” Anzu chuckled devilishly. “We’re gonna run a little experiment.”
Once Anzu was done explaining her “experiment” idea to me, I went over the steps in my head to make sure I had the whole thing straight. One of us was going to walk inside the tunnel at a (relatively) fixed velocity while carrying the loose end of the nylon rope, while the other person stood outside holding the spool, spinning it gradually to give it more slack while ensuring it remained taut. For as long as the flow of time remained normal, the nylon rope would continue to unreel at approximately the same rate—but as soon as the tunnel walker crossed over the boundary where time began to distort, the person on the outside should immediately notice the rope being pulled much faster. Then, at that exact moment, the person with the spool would grab the rope and yank it hard to stop the tunnel walker from taking any more slack, thereby letting them know they’d crossed the cutoff point and could come back out.
With this method, it would theoretically be possible to find the boundary where the flow of time began to distort without having to run in and out of the tunnel several dozen times. Not only was I impressed by what a clever idea this was on Anzu’s part, it also conveyed to me just how serious she was about uncovering the mysteries of the Urashima Tunnel, which genuinely surprised me. After all, this was an inexplicable, time-twisting space—almost like an “anti-hyperbolic time chamber,” to borrow Shohei’s example. If we weren’t careful, there was a very good chance that several years could pass us by while we were investigating inside, and there was still no guarantee that it actually had the power to grant wishes. This was not a challenge to be taken lightly, and I had to wonder if Anzu had yet to fully grasp the potential repercussions.
“So you’re really ready to go all-in on this, huh?” I asked.
“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Anzu replied.
“I mean, we’re talking about a place where weeks fly by in minutes. If you could just go in and out and get your wish granted, that’d be one thing, but we have no idea how deep this tunnel goes. I can tell you from personal experience that it also does some pretty freaky crap to mess with your head.”
“Sure, I get that it’s dangerous. But if you’re not willing to take risks, you’ll end up spinning your wheels your entire life.”
“Yeah, on certain things, maybe. There’s still a line between fearlessness and recklessness.”
“What are you trying to say? Do you want me to leave so you can explore the tunnel all by yourself? Is that it?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m trying to get a feel for how serious you are about this… Most people would be shaking in their boots at the prospect, y’know.”
Anzu rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might disappear into the back of her head. “Good thing I’m not most people, then.”
“…Is that really something to be proud of?”
“Of course it is. I hate normal people. They’re worthless.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at this. “Damn. That’s a pretty harsh take.”
“I mean, it’s true, though. There’s no value in being ordinary. The law of scarcity applies to way more than just economics. Rare, life-changing experiences are worth exponentially more than your average day-to-day. I’d much rather live a short, fulfilling life than a long and boring one.”
“Mmm… I mean, I’ll agree with you there, but I feel like it’s a little unfair to say that all ordinary things are worthless. Like, sometimes there’s comfort in familiarity. And sometimes common things are more popular than uncommon things for a reason.”
“Like for example?”
“Like, uh…salmon, maybe? I mean, I know most people tend to think of salmon as being like, the ‘vanilla’ option when it comes to seafood, but to me, it tastes a hell of a lot better than any of the fancier, more expensive fish out there. Like, you could take me to the grocery store right now and offer to buy me anything I wanted, and you sure as hell wouldn’t catch me picking eel or whatever. I’d take salmon over that even on special occasions.”
“I think eel’s way better than salmon, personally.”
“Oh. Well, fair enough, I guess,” I said. Sheesh, way to totally deflate the conversation. Not that it wasn’t a totally stupid discussion to begin with…
“But y’know? For a normie, you’re pretty interesting, Tono-kun. I like that about you,” said Anzu, grinning from ear to ear.
I suddenly got butterflies in my stomach. It still felt like I had no idea who this girl really was on the inside. In school, she was the most antisocial person imaginable, purposely distancing herself from other people. But then she also had somewhat of a childish, mischievous side, as evidenced by the way she’d secretly followed me to the tunnel from school the day before. Then on very rare occasions, she could show a bit more of a feminine side, saying cutesy stuff like this that could easily be misinterpreted as flirtatious. I wondered which of the three was the real Anzu. Maybe none of them were.
“Anyway, come on. We’re wasting daylight here,” she said. “We’d better get this show on the road.”
“R-right. Sorry.”