Only Asai Kei could appreciate what the sound of the falling rain meant.

It was a sound that signaled the loss of the town of Sakurada’s abilities. It was the sound of 40 years of memories being rewritten.

Ukawa Sasane had erased all the rain clouds with her ability at around 1 PM that day. But if she forgot about her ability, it would lose its effect. And Ukawa Sasane was no exception to the loss of all information regarding abilities throughout Sakurada.

So the rainclouds reappeared at the exact moment Ukawa Sasane lost her ability.

The rain fell outside Kei’s window with the bland sound of white noise.

Kei collapsed into his bed. He curled up, holding his head. Information flooded his brain. A great mass of false memories popped into existence. As waves of a nauseating headache crashed through his mind, he realized what was happening.

I get it. This is what was always gonna happen.

It was the inevitable outcome of someone who couldn’t lose his memories being forced to have them rewritten.

Two sets of memories collided into each other. Memories of having an ability, and memories of not having one. Two contradicting sets of information smashing and crashing, wreaking havoc in his mind.

Memories of Haruki Misora being there, and memories of Haruki Misora not being there. Memories of Souma Sumire dying, and memories of Souma Sumire not dying.

It was chaos.

Reason demanded that his memories with abilities were correct, and at the same time, reason demanded that his memories without abilities were correct.

Abilities existed, Haruki Misora was there, and Souma Sumire died.

Abilities did not exist, Haruki Misora was not there, and Souma Sumire did not die.

Kei was so confused and disoriented. He couldn’t even decide which past he wanted to believe.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, squeezing his eyes tighter to make out the display. His vision was blurry from the splitting headache. He pressed a button with trembling fingers, and finally, he could be certain.

There on his phone were two e-mail messages from Haruki Misora.

She had definitely been there with him.

He opened the e-mails, reading the first one.

We do not need to find a restaurant. We can make chicken curry in your room.

Then, the second.

I apologize. Would you prefer to eat out instead?

Kei gripped his phone as tightly as he could in his hands.

She apologized? Why? What did she need to apologize for?

No doubt she had sent that first e-mail with her heart soaring in eager anticipation, only to have to follow it up with the second e-mail as her heart sank with undeserved anxiety.

If only he had responded sooner, she wouldn’t have had to send that second e-mail. Just a single word of response could have kept her from feeling guilty over a small, fragile desire.

But he had been sitting in front of the bathroom, talking with Souma Sumire as he received the e-mail. He didn’t regret choosing not to open the phone back then. It had been worth prioritizing Souma Sumire over Haruki Misora, if only for just that moment.

But I can’t let this stand. He couldn’t let his last communication with Haruki Misora be an apology.

I guess that means there’s no time for taking a break. His headache was finally starting to wear off, anyway.

Asai Kei stood up. He walked to the entrance, put on his sneakers, and laced them tightly. Grabbing an umbrella, he headed out the door.

He listened to the sound of the rain. It pounded down, making him think of a radio with poor reception. The static of an unstable connection to someone far away.

Closing the door behind him, Asai Kei began to run.

Haruki Misora may have already forgotten everything. But even so, she was still listening to the same sound as him. It was weak, but it was still a connection.

I know… we still have a connection. Even if it was on the verge of breaking.

Souma Sumire had connected the two of them once again.

✽

It happened two years ago. Just before Souma Sumire died.

It was raining that day, as well. Raindrops evenly fell across every part of the city, bringing with them the bland sound of white noise.

I love communicating, she had said at the bus stop. I want to exchange all kinds of words with all kinds of people, from the greatest of blessings to the smallest of formalities.

She had put her life on that line for that singular cause. So that a boy’s words could reach out to a girl.

So that Asai Kei could speak once more with Haruki Misora.

A Boy, a Girl, and… – END