2

It was the middle of September, but the cicadas were still buzzing away.

5 PM. Haruki was alone, walking her route home.

Ultimately, Asai Kei had not instructed her to reset, deciding instead to hold off until the next day. He had also said that it would be better for her in the long run to be capable of using her ability on her own. Her not being able to reset except by his command could create several potential future problems. At least, that was what he thought.

Haruki was overall somewhat surprised by the turn of events. She had been quite certain that Asai Kei would immediately instruct her to reset.

The sky above Haruki was dark blue in preparation for the sunset. The shadows were beginning to grow darker, and as she listened to the clack of her footsteps, a thought crossed her mind.

Does he hate resets now?

The possibility not only existed, but was quite high. After all, a reset was what had brought about the death of Souma Sumire.

Haruki had noticed that Asai Kei began avoiding her after Souma Sumire’s death. Even after he had started asking for resets himself. Even when she had decided to use her resets for him.

I guess that’s why. Somehow or another, Haruki had pinpointed why she could no longer reset of her own accord.

An ability in Sakurada wouldn’t activate if the user didn’t want it to. She had decided to follow whatever Kei did. Kei did not want to use resets anymore. And so, she didn’t want to use resets.

Was that a truly logical way of thinking? Haruki wasn’t sure. But she was sure that if he didn’t want something, she shouldn’t do it. That resolve resonated from deep within her.

Haruki noticed a small park to her left. It was full of empty play equipment and solitary benches, and not a person was in sight. Haruki entered the park, approaching the two swings that were hanging low for childrens’ use. She sat down in a swing, gripping the chains.

Something told her not to go home yet. That there was something she still needed to do.

Cicadas buzzed loudly in a nearby tree as Haruki Misora sat in thought.

Should I go ahead and reset? On its face, the question was simple, but many complexities lay beneath its surface.

It was quite likely that Kei wanted nothing to do with resets. But regardless, he would still instruct for one the next day. That would complete their work for the Service Club, and someone somewhere might just be a little happier. Haruki was sure that served as justification enough for Kei to utilize a reset. And when Asai Kei made a judgment, he was never wrong.

Perhaps I should reset. It would save time in the long run, and there was no need for extra time or planning.

In a small voice, Haruki mumbled, “Reset.”

But the world remained as it was. Time continued in its ever-forward pace.

I knew it. Something inside me doesn’t want to reset. Perhaps the denial was coming from what some would call emotion.

To reset, or not to reset? She faced two options. The decision was between logic and emotion.

The dilemma made Haruki consider something that Souma Sumire had once told her.

✽

“When I look at you, I imagine two white boxes with the exact same shape and size,” Souma Sumire said.

That had been some five months ago, before Haruki had even met Asai Kei for the first time. The two girls had been standing in the same park.

Souma Sumire continued, “You’re in an entirely white room, and there are two white boxes in front of you. They’re the same size, same shape, and same color. You have to choose between the two, but you can’t tell the difference.”

“I do not understand what you mean,” Haruki had replied. And that was true at the time. Of course, Haruki had foregone trying to understand anything Souma Sumire said in the first place. She had decided that the effort was unnecessary.

But now, even if only a little bit more, Haruki thought she understood what the white boxes stood for.

Souma Sumire had been talking about choices. All throughout their lives, humans made choice after choice. She wanted to discuss what that entailed.

The Souma Sumire in Haruki’s memory smiled gently. “I mean that the world you live in is simplistic. If the two boxes before you were different colors, you could choose your favorite. You could even use the shape of one as an excuse, but for you, they’re both exactly the same, and there are no features that make one worth choosing over the other.”

At the time, Haruki had understood all choices and options to be equally worthless. No matter what was in front of her, it was the same color, the same shape, the same choice.

But no. I think I was wrong. Perhaps they actually were different, and she simply couldn’t see it. It was so easy to look at something and never see it.

Regardless, the reality was that for the longest time, Haruki didn’t care about her decisions. If all choices were equally worthless, she could ignore emotion and make every decision on logic alone.

“But still, even if there’s no aspect of judgment or weighing your options, at the end of the day, you can only open one box,” Souma Sumire had said.

✽

Haruki was now facing a completely different situation.

To reset, or not to reset. Both decisions were completely and obviously different. Whether it would be called shape, color, or what have you, Haruki was well aware that they were not the same choice.

Her reason continued to insist, I should definitely reset.

Asai Kei would do so eventually anyway. He had even mentioned the importance of Haruki being capable of using her resets of her own accord. She could reset immediately without hesitation, and it would still be choosing to follow him.

But her emotion fought back. Asai Kei hates resets. It was the ability that killed Souma Sumire. If he could have it his way, he would never use another reset.

She was sure that her reasoning was right and true. But her emotions refused to listen to her reason. No matter how often she whispered, “Reset,” the world remained unchanged.

The wind blew. The cicadas fell silent.

Those environmental factors likely had nothing to do with it, but either way, it was at that moment that Haruki Misora came to a realization. It was sudden, like the change of a traffic light. It was casual, like a thrown object being overtaken by gravity and falling back down. She understood why she couldn’t use her reset.

Ever so slightly, Haruki’s face turned to a frown.

The cicadas began chirping again. Haruki suddenly realized that the sky was turning red. It had become dark enough that the street lamps turned on, and she had never noticed.

Haruki whispered her realization out loud.

“I’m scared… that Kei might start to hate me, too.”

That overwhelming fear ensured that her reset would remain unusable.