2 – Haruki Misora – Second time

Haruki Misora was in control of an ability called the Reset which gave her the power to rewind time, or more accurately, to bring the world back to a previously specified state.

The power of resets came with several limitations. First, she needed to intentionally create a “save” for the world to revert to. A new save would erase any previous saves, the save effect wore off after three days, and so on and so forth. Haruki herself wasn’t completely in the know about all the details, but the scientists at the Administration Bureau more or less summed it up in that manner. The Administration Bureau was the public institution in charge of managing Sakurada’s abilities, and their primary concern appeared to be ensuring that her ability would not cause any undue problems.

The ultimate reason why Haruki was unfamiliar with the effects of her own ability doubled as its greatest flaw. Her ability affected the entire world, and reverted even the user back to the previously saved state. Unless it was directly countered, even Haruki would be swept up in the power of her reset. She wouldn’t even remember if she used it.

As such, Haruki was completely unaware of what happened in the time that was lost to her own reset. The reset she had just invoked erased around 24 hours, the time from 4:30 PM on April 27th to 4:45 PM on April 28th. The world had previously experienced April 28th one time before reverting back to April 27th.

On April 27th, at 4:30 PM, Haruki was walking past a park close to the Nanasaka Junior High School. She was on her way home, but had stopped at the sound of someone crying. She looked over to find a girl standing alone in the park, crying to herself. Haruki didn’t know the girl, and could only surmise that she was somewhere in the early elementary school age.

Haruki had never been good at discerning others’ emotions. She could hardly distinguish between someone smiling and crying at a glance. It was only when she saw tears falling that she could truly understand that someone else was crying. The girl was most definitely crying, with great tears falling from her eyes and dampening her cheeks.

Whenever Haruki Misora saw someone crying, she would reset. There was no fundamental reason for it, or at least if there was, she had long forgotten it. Either way, it was a rule etched in stone for her. She interpreted the tears of others as a reason to use her ability.

So, just like every other time, Haruki muttered, “Reset.”

But as soon as she said it, a new realization struck her. She had not saved recently. If she didn’t save at least once every three days, then her reset could not function. It was an unavoidable limitation. She immediately whispered, “Save,” so that she could properly do her duty of resetting the next time she came across someone crying.

It was that very moment that her reset returned her to.

Haruki prepared to continue her walk home, but was stopped by a voice. It was high-pitched and broken up, certainly not very pleasant to the ears.

“Um…” was all the crying girl managed to squeeze out. Haruki turned her head towards the girl once again.

Haruki could not fully comprehend the feeling of sadness. She herself could not bring to mind any memory of having cried. But she inexplicably knew that tears felt hot. She could even imagine the feeling of them running down her cheek. Perhaps it was simply a lost memory. The feeling of being sad, the experience of crying, and all that came with it. As things were, Haruki Misora, the second-year middle school girl, could not truly understand what it meant to cry.

The little girl was looking straight at Haruki, her eyes glistening with tears. “Do you know my mother?” Her voice was anxious and unsteady. It seemed to be quaking from her crying.

“No, I do not,” Haruki answered. She didn’t know the little girl at all, let alone her mother.

Despite her answer, the girl continued to stare at Haruki. She surmised that the girl had more questions, so she waited patiently, but no further questions came. From what Haruki could put together, the girl was looking for her mother. Or to put it more simply, she was lost.

Haruki was uncertain of how to respond to finding a lost child. The first option that came to mind was to go to the police, but she had also heard that when someone was being searched for, it was safest to stay in place. Haruki tried to imagine the most efficient method out of the conundrum.

The best method that she arrived at was to instruct the girl to stay at the park while going by herself to the police. That way, if the girl’s mother was searching, she could be found at the park, and if her mother never did find her, then she could still receive police protection.

I should probably have a good description to give the police, Haruki considered. With that in mind, she paid attention to the girl in front of her for the first time. She wore a white polo shirt with a checkered skirt, and had a dark green pouch hung over her shoulder. Her hair fell down to just around her cheeks, with her bangs held up by a barrette.

“Where were you separated from your mother?” Haruki asked.

The girl didn’t answer, instead continuing to stare at Haruki.

Perhaps my vocabulary was too complicated, Haruki concluded. She revised her question. “Can you please tell me what you were doing before you got here?”

The girl answered in a voice so soft, it was hard to make out. “I was… at the hospital… for a checkup.”

It was very possible that she had separated from her mother at the hospital. There was in fact a large hospital behind the park they were in. It may be more appropriate to call the hospital first. “Could you please tell me your name?” I’ll leave it at that, Haruki concluded. Knowing the girl’s name and description was more than satisfactory for filing a report.

The girl answered in a wavering voice, “Kurakawa Mari.”

Kurakawa Mari. Haruki eschewed asking for the kanji, as it would serve no greater purpose. “I will make sure to talk to the hospital and police. Your mother is most likely already looking for you. I think you should do your best to stay here.”

Despite Haruki’s explanation, the girl named Mari didn’t give any reaction or response. Haruki had made sure she was speaking loud enough, and she didn’t use any difficult words, so her part was fulfilled. She turned to leave, yet didn’t even have the chance to take a single step before Mari grabbed the hem of her uniform for some reason.

“Please let go,” Haruki requested, but Mari gave no response. She simply continued to cry. Should I pull her hand away? Mari’s grip was fairly weak, and a light tug would have been more than enough.

But Haruki didn’t feel like doing that for some reason. The sensation of Mari’s hand against her hip awoke something from inside of her. It felt like an old memory was trying to come to the surface, but it just barely slipped past her.

The hem of her uniform still being held, Haruki tried her best to persuade Mari towards other options. If she didn’t want to wait in the park, they could leave a note and let Mari wait in the hospital. Either way, the two of them staying together in the park was incredibly inefficient. The hospital would probably have contact information for her. But no matter what Haruki offered, Mari retained her grip, and tears continued down her cheeks. Haruki was at a loss.

It was late spring. The sakura trees had already shed all of their petals, and pale green leaves took their place. It was fairly cold this year for spring, and although the sun was warm, the cold wind bit through their clothes.

Haruki stood there, her uniform still bunched up, as she waited for the little girl to say something.

Roughly 20 minutes later, Mari’s mother finally made her appearance. By then, Mari had stopped crying. She had fallen asleep against Haruki, still gripping her uniform.

Walking beside Mari’s mother was one of Haruki’s classmates, a girl by the name of Souma Sumire. Why is she with Mari’s mother? I don’t know, but it doesn’t really matter. Now that Mari’s mother had arrived, everything was taken care of.

Handing Mari over to her bowing mother, Haruki left the park. Souma Sumire began to walk alongside her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Haruki continued at the same pace, not even turning her head in acknowledgement.

“I have something I need to apologize for,” Souma Sumire said. “I was just outside the park when you met that little girl. I thought about making myself known, but I didn’t. Do you know why?”

Haruki considered it unlikely that she should know, so she responded in kind. “No.”

Souma Sumire chuckled. “I was curious to see what you would do. So, well, sorry. I left you alone with her while I went to go look for her mom by myself.”

Haruki was unsure why such actions would require an apology. At the same time, she wasn’t curious enough to go to the trouble of asking why. She opted to continue her walk home at a steady pace.

“By all accounts, you looked like a really good person,” Souma Sumire commented. She happily matched Haruki’s pace, and continued talking in a regular rhythm as they walked. “You went out of your way to help a crying child, and when she grabbed onto your clothes, you stayed by her side, even letting her sleep on you. You looked incredibly caring and kind, but you never really cared what happened to her, did you?”

Still facing forward, Haruki nodded. “That is correct.” She would most likely forget what that girl was wearing and what her crying face looked like by the next day. Within the next month, she would completely forget the day’s events. The fact that her mother found the girl safely meant nothing to Haruki. Sure, it could be defined as a generally good thing, and Haruki understood that, but it didn’t mean anything to her personally. I am indifferent to the world around me, with no exceptions, Haruki thought.

Souma Sumire continued, “I’ve been really interested in you for quite a while. You never have any good intentions, so it wouldn’t be accurate to call you a hypocrite. And yet, whenever you view your actions on a surface level, you look like a good person. The very thought that it’s possible for someone like you to exist is quite interesting to me.”

Haruki, for one, had no interest in the current conversation. It was now 5 PM on April 27th. It was still fairly early in the day, but the sun had already dropped considerably towards the horizon. Haruki and Souma’s shadows fell behind them in long, straight lines. The lines were parallel, moving in the same direction and never intersecting.

Souma Sumire continued talking in a relaxed tone. “When I look at you, I imagine two white boxes. 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 stated.

Souma Sumire smiled as she responded, “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.”

Haruki was completely lost. She recalled the many similar situations she’d experienced the previous year. Souma Sumire was her classmate back then as well, and would often begin conversations with strange figurative and metaphorical assertions just like she currently was.

“So, Haruki. I have a favor that I’d like to ask of you.”

Haruki continued walking, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Souma Sumire continued talking to Haruki’s profile. “Whether you refuse or accept it is a pair of white boxes before you. Whether I like or dislike you makes no difference, am I correct? You feel neither curiosity nor annoyance at the opportunity, am I correct? 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.”

Haruki was hearing Souma Sumire’s voice, but nothing the girl said was registering. It didn’t even feel worth the time to try and understand what she was saying.

“So, let’s give it a shot. I’d like you to come by the southern school rooftop tomorrow after school.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Haruki nodded. “Understood.”

Souma Sumire smiled. “Why did you accept?”

“I followed the rules.”

“Rules?”

“I follow a set list of rules.” There was no compulsion. Haruki set the rules for herself as a basis to keep her life running smoothly. One of them was to reset any time she saw someone crying. Another was to never refuse a request unless it interfered with the other rules.

Haruki Misora’s life was entirely guided by her rules. She was not unlike a computer that ran on a set of simple programs. No matter the decision, it was run through the defined ruleset before being made.

“Rules, huh? Well, that’s fine.” Souma Sumire reached into her bag, pulling out a small, blue envelope. “As thanks for accepting my request, I’ll give you this.”

Haruki accepted the envelope, which was carefully glued to the point that it would require tearing or cutting to open it.

“Think of it like a good luck charm. Whenever you’re in trouble, open it and say a wish out loud. It’ll make your wish come true.”

Haruki was far from believing any of her claims, but also had no reason to refuse the gift. She gave a slight nod, putting the envelope into her bag.

At the next corner, Souma Sumire abruptly stopped in place. Without even acknowledging the change, Haruki continued walking forward.

The other girl’s voice echoed from behind her. “Please come to the rooftop tomorrow after school.”

Haruki froze in place, nodded, then continued her walk home.

✽

Wednesday, April 28th. Haruki was on the southern school rooftop after school, just as Souma Sumire had asked. Just before leaving the classroom, Souma had informed her that she would be late for their meeting due to some administrative work as the class representative.

Haruki stood in front of the roof’s fence, staring intently at the door leading to the rooftop. She did not find waiting to be a very troublesome task. After all, she had nothing else to do. There wasn’t much difference between going home to sit at her desk and waiting up on the rooftop.

The various active sports clubs paired together with the many students leaving the campus created a noticeable clamor of noise behind her. At the same time, the sun shone down on her from a clear blue sky. But Haruki did not feel any special emotion from those stimuli. She had never once considered the sky beautiful, and even if the wind, flowers, and noise of the school were to all fade away, she doubted it would change much for her. She simply had nothing to offer towards them.

I wonder if that’s something I should be sad about, Haruki thought to herself. Immediately after that thought, she questioned the purpose behind it. After all, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. It was no different from waiting for her classmate. All problems had a way of resolving themselves given enough time. Either she would come to know an answer, or she would simply forget the question.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and yet nobody appeared on the roof. A slight breeze blew. Perhaps because of the breeze, Haruki found her gaze shifting to the side. Her eyes moved across the school grounds to the street in front of the school. It was there that she saw a familiar young girl.

All alone on the rooftop, Haruki Misora found her.

Kurakawa Mari.

At first, Haruki was fairly surprised that she was able to remember the girl’s name. But the reason for her adept memory was pinpointed quickly enough. The girl was crying once again. She looked the same as she had the previous day in the park. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. The sound of her crying was entirely lost to the distance between the rooftop and the street. With tears flowing down her crinkled and distorted face, Mari stumbled down the street.

Haruki remembered the save that she had made the previous day when initially coming across Mari. Her preparation now gave way to an issue-free reset.

With what sounded like a sigh, Haruki mumbled, “Reset.”

But the world before Haruki did not change. The brass band and sports teams were still audible from below. And Mari remained alone, crying as she stumbled down the street.

24 hours later, Haruki finally learned about her use of the reset power.

Since her ability didn’t activate, it meant that she had already used it. When considering the ruleset provided to her by the Bureau, there was no other alternative.

I must have already reset, and performed the same actions for the second time over the last day. 24 hours ago, she had been in the same place, watching the same series of events. She no doubt saw Kurakawa Mari crying and used her reset. As soon as she reset, her save lost its functionality, and she would need to save once more in order to use her ability another time.

Haruki had had this experience several times in the past. She could never remember the difference between trying to reset and actually doing it. Since she lost her memories after performing one, she was fated to repeat all her actions, only to fail the moment that she tried once more. The only memories Haruki could truly keep were of failing to reset.

She had her doubts every now and again. Do I truly have this ability that they call the Reset?

There was no reason for the Administration Bureau to lie, so she probably did. But part of the Bureau’s evaluation of her ability was marking it as a meaningless ability when used alone. And that evaluation was exactly right. Just saying the word reset wasn’t enough to truly change the world. It wasn’t even enough to stop a single girl’s tears.

Mari was still crying.

Haruki contemplated going to her. Perhaps the girl would grab onto the hem of her uniform again. But would that accomplish anything? Could it make any more of a difference than the useless word she had just muttered? Her rules didn’t account for the present situation.

At that moment, Haruki saw Mari’s mother coming from across the street. The two would meet within moments. When that happened, Mari would stop crying.

No reset was needed. The hem of her uniform remained untouched. Without Haruki doing anything at all, the girl’s sadness would be rectified.

It never mattered.

Haruki heard the sound of a door opening from behind her. Turning around, she was met with Souma Sumire standing beside a male student that she didn’t recognize.