A week later, Kazune’s IP was unlocked, and we all gathered in the ISRI shift room to switch them back.
Kazune 13 lay inside the IP capsule. She had just finished spending another full week away from work in order to stay home and coddle Ryou. I suspected that was because she knew she would have to go home soon, so I didn’t criticize her for it. I had regained some level of compassion for her, and besides, I didn’t feel like I had the right.
“It seems you were correct,” she said to me before the glass door closed.
I’d gone to the police to share what I knew about the culprit. That information spread across the parallel worlds. And then yesterday, we received word from World 13 that the true culprit had been uncovered.
It was, of course, my parallel self—Koyomi 13.
This is how it all went down.
After Ryou was murdered, the grieving Kazune shifted away to a world where he was still alive. In her place, Kazune 0 learned of Ryou’s death in World 13.
A few days later, the killer’s wife came to the house late at night to apologize. And that was when my parallel self killed her. In some worlds, it happened right then and there. In others, it was after she walked off down the street. It was a crime of passion.
He knew that if he made Kazune 0 look suspicious, her IP would be locked. That would ensure Kazune 13 couldn’t immediately be sent home in an IP capsule for a good long while, at least not until the end of the investigation—and in turn, she could have lots of happy moments with Ryou.
He gave Kazune 0 a shoddy alibi on purpose, knowing it would fall apart under the slightest scrutiny. Sure enough, it did, and once the cops decided Takasaki Koyomi was covering for his wife, she became the prime suspect.
“How did you figure it out all of a sudden?” Kazune asked me.
I hadn’t revealed to anyone how I arrived at the answer, but with Kazune, I wanted to be as honest as possible.
“The night you suggested my Kazune could have a motive… I despised you.” Indeed, I inadvertently felt hatred toward one of Kazune’s other sides. “At the time, I was only thinking of Kazune 0. I’d forgotten all about my vow to love every you.”
She didn’t say a word and just listened to me speak.
“Then, I realized… If I could forget it, then Koyomi 13 might have forgotten it too. He might have taken action solely to protect his Kazune, especially since he already lost his son. He couldn’t possibly think rationally after that.” I was so sure humans couldn’t possibly change overnight, but then I went and proved it to myself. That was how I realized Koyomi 13 must have changed too. “When I thought about the lengths he might go to for you, I realized the truth. He’d make you happy at any cost—innocent people like Kazune 0 be damned.”
In two different worlds, I had found a way to accidentally love the only side of the die I could see—my Kazune and no one else’s.
“How incredibly selfish of him,” she sighed. “Seems we might be getting a divorce when I get home.”
“I won’t ask you to forgive him, but, if possible…could you hold off for a while?”
“In that case, I want you to make that vow again,” she said to me.
“Okay. I vow to love you for every side of the die, all your possibilities included.”
“…Good. I suppose I could forgive him, then.”
“You’d better remind him of our vow too.”
“Oh, I’m not worried. You’re two sides of the same die, remember?” She smiled ever so faintly, then whispered, “I’m going home.”
✦ ✦ ✦
We closed the capsule lid, then set the magnetic field to IP 13. All the other nearby worlds were probably doing the same thing right about now.
Optional shifts only took a few seconds of closing your eyes. Technically, you could leave them open, but it was better to close them to minimize visual overload.
I gazed at Kazune in the capsule as she lay there with her eyes closed. Then, out of nowhere, her lips contorted, and her furrowed brow began to quiver as a single tear slipped out from between her lashes.
I’ll never forget her last words. They were clear as day.
“It’s just not fair… Why did you get to keep him…?”
✦ ✦ ✦
That night, the three of us all slept in bed together for a change—me, Ryou, and our newly returned Kazune. Ryou was used to sleeping on his own like a big boy, so he complained at first, but he seemed a tiny bit happy about it. Or maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see.
Once he fell asleep, Kazune and I talked in hushed tones.
“If 99 percent of the world’s happiness is built on 1 percent of misery…what are we supposed to do? Do we still deserve it?” she asked me.
“…I don’t know, but if we were given good lives, then I say we make the most of them. Otherwise, their misery will have been in vain… But then again, I suppose from their perspective, it is in vain.”
“Yes, I suppose so…”
How did that 1 percent feel about the other 99 percent? Kazune 13’s parting words were an indication.
“Still, I think we should lean in and embrace our happiness,” I said. “And we should always seek out more. We’re not trampling on that 1 percent—they’re just a stepping stone for us.”
“Don’t you think it’s wrong to use them like that?”
“There’s no right or wrong about it. We’re already standing here, on a mountain of possibilities. Our only option is to keep on living.”
“I suppose so.”
Between us, Ryou lay snoring quietly. Kazune lovingly stroked his cheek, at which point I reached out and laid my hand on hers.
And before we went to bed, I vowed to her one more time: “I will love every you and all your possibilities…including the 1 percent this time.”
In response, she answered, “I can see now just how blessed I truly am.”
And I said, “Me too.”