Chapter 2 – Fake Blue

Souma Sumire returned from the hospital to her room in the abandoned hotel at around 5 PM. She sat down on her bed, ate a sandwich she had bought from a convenience store on the way over, and chugged about a third of her mineral water from its plastic bottle. She then closed her eyes, remembering the future. Or at least, remembering the future that she had learned from using her ability previously.

Souma Sumire’s current memory put her in Asai Kei’s shoes.

Souma’s future sight worked by allowing her to steal the future memories of whoever she was talking to. She would substitute with her conversation partner in that future, and from there be able to remember the past.

Asai Kei’s memory was taking place as he sat down on a set of stairs.

He was in Ashiharabashi High, sitting halfway up the final staircase leading to the rooftop.

Beside him was Souma Sumire. He was staring intently at Souma Sumire’s face.

I’ve gotten used to seeing my own face, thanks to this ability. But I only got used to it. I could never bring myself to like it.

Asai Kei’s speech was slow and purposeful.

✽

“Say, for example, that all of our memories were fake.”

Souma Sumire, sitting beside him, smiled lightly as she tilted her head. “So, something along the lines of the five-minute hypothesis?”

The five-minute hypothesis was a thought experiment suggesting that the whole world may very well have been created in its entirety no more than five minutes ago. That meant that any memories from more than five minutes ago– The previous night’s dinner, the cherry blossoms blooming in the spring, the birthday present from last year– were all complete fabrications, implanted at the world’s creation five minutes prior.

The theory was logically unfalsifiable. After all, if everything was created five minutes ago, there would be no reason to trust anything in the past or the present as evidence to the contrary.

Kei gave a small nod. “Well, yeah, something like that. But less that the whole world was created five minutes ago, and more that we were on another one until then. We could have had completely different memories, leading completely different lives.”

“And then those memories were overwritten, and we were placed in this world.”

“Yeah. Is it even right for us to stay together, when that could be the case?”

“Of course it is,” Souma Sumire affirmed, not even a hint of hesitation in her voice. She felt the strong winds of emotion carrying her tone. “There’s no point to that assumption. Our memories always have the capacity to be wrong. Time passes, memories get murky, and you end up completely forgetting an event, or warping it entirely. That line of thinking is a meaningless venture.”

Kei’s head tilted a few degrees. She knew he was doing it on purpose. “Memories have no meaning?”

“I’m saying there’s no point stressing over the correctness or incorrectness of a memory.” Souma held up a finger, as if preparing to explain a famous mathematical formula, saying, “My mind is dotted with incorrect memories, and those memories determine my emotions. The real, objective past becomes completely unrelated. Mistakes or not, it’s still okay to assume that I am who I am, and you are who you are, because of those experiences. Unless you’re suggesting you have a perfect memory, recalling the past with absolutely no mistakes?” she questioned.

Asai Kei refrained from answering her rhetorical question. Instead, he said, “A girl I know gave me a present. She gifted it in a very roundabout way, and I knew she put more effort into it than any kind of hand-knitted sweater. She worked hard to give me exactly what I wanted.”

Slight annoyance spread over Souma Sumire’s face. “Must be nice. What about it?”

“You’re right. Misunderstanding, or being wrong, none of that matters. I am who I am because of my memories, and those memories determine my emotions. So, I…” Asai Kei sighed softly inside. “I… really like this world. You’re here, smiling with me, and it’s like all the problems have been cleanly wiped away. Maybe this is the right answer I’ve been looking for. But… I still have my memories. So I can’t be with you here forever.”

What on Earth was he talking about?

Sitting in the abandoned hotel, the Souma who was remembering the future knew what he meant.

But in her scene of the future, the Souma Sumire before him didn’t understand. She couldn’t make heads nor tails of it, incapable of understanding what was metaphor and what was literal.

And so, she…

I…

The Souma Sumire of the future knit her eyebrows. “I don’t really get what you’re saying.”

Asai Kei nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll try to put it in a simpler way.”

“But, well…” Souma Sumire chuckled in what sounded entirely like a sigh. “If I’m hearing you right, you just dumped me, didn’t you?”

✽

Yeah. That’s exactly right.

Souma Sumire remembered the future from her room in the abandoned hotel.

The plan was going smoothly. Time was flowing smoothly, according to that plan. It wouldn’t be long before even Kei recognized the reality of that future.

Souma Sumire opened her eyes, looking out the window. The window was filthy. But it wouldn’t be worth polishing the abandoned hotel room’s windows until they shone.

The sun sank into the horizon, dusk blooming over the city.

But the window was so filthy that the red sunset just looked gray and hazy.

1 – September 24th (Sunday), 1 PM

“No. I never did get to see him,” said Nonō Seika.

September 24th, Sunday. Just like the day before, Asai Kei met up in the park near the hospital with Haruki Misora and Nonō Seika.

“The Cat House Gramps lived in my neighborhood. He had an old, Western-style house that all the stray cats made their home out of. But I went there, and there was no Western-style house.” Nonō continued.

“It just wasn’t there?” Kei asked.

“Nope. It got turned into a parking lot. The house itself was demolished five years ago. Makes sense, really.”

“Then, do you have any idea where the Cat House Gramps could be?”

“Not at all. I wandered around the dream world all day yesterday looking for him, but never managed to find him. I was convinced I’d find him if I located his house. I really can’t imagine finding him anywhere else,” Nonō Seika said.

“I see,” Kei nodded. He felt similarly about Nonō and the shrine she frequented. It was odd to imagine her anywhere else. Of course, in reality, there she was in the park with him.

Haruki Misora’s head tilted slightly. “I was under the impression your ability puts you at an advantage when it comes to searching for people, Nonō-san.”

Nonō’s ability let her share the consciousness of cats. In a way, it gave her eyes and ears all over Sakurada.

But Nonō shook her head. “It was incredibly difficult to use my ability in the dream world. You might say it was incompatible.”

When she put it that way, Kei understood.

Nonō’s ability required her to be in a trance-like state, one where she separated from her own consciousness. The simplest way for her to accomplish that state was to fall asleep. But, in the dream world, falling asleep only served to kick her back into reality.

Haruki continued, offering a suggestion. Kei had to wonder if Nonō was responsible for her sudden proactivity. “Could you not simply wait in the hospital within the dream?”

The idea had some merit. Nobody could sleep forever, and would eventually be sent back to reality upon waking. Then, when they went back to the dream world, they would have to start in the hospital. The same would have to go for the Cat House Gramps.

But Nonō shook her head once again. “I feel that’ll only make it more likely we miss each other. I’ll get kicked out of the dream when I wake up too, after all.”

Kei couldn’t help but agree. People could only sleep for so long, and that was typically much less time than they spent awake. The amount of time she could wait in the hospital would be heavily limited, unless she spent days in a row there. But they were only given one day to visit the dream world. They’d be better off looking for a more reliable methodology.

Nonō’s mouth gaped wide in a yawn before she continued, “Now then, Asai. What if you were to talk nonsense with me in the dream? With enough vague, meaningless talk, I may be able to forget myself.”

It would be possible for Nonō to use her ability without sleeping, as long as she was able to forget herself. If she used her ability, she could use any cat within Sakurada to search around.

But Kei gave a quick shake of his head. “That wouldn’t be too bad, but I think I know an ability that would work more efficiently.”

Murase Youka. Her ability would be much more reliable than having a cat as their eyes.

Maybe I’ve been relying on her a bit too much lately, he thought. Her ability was just so convenient, with an incredibly wide range of applications. And she was always willing to lend a hand as long as the job wasn’t too annoying.

Nonō fixed her gaze on Kei’s face. “Would this person come to the dream world if you asked?”

“Probably, but I don’t think we’ll really need to go that far.” Kei assumed the hospital room they’d be issued was the same as the one they had just used. In that case, expecting Haruki, Nonō, and Murase to sleep together in the same bed was asking a bit much. “If the dream world really does perfectly mimic reality, then it can be assumed we’ll find her in the dream. We’ll look for her there and ask for her assistance.”

Nonō nodded. “I see. Thank you.”

“Well, I’ll have to make a phone call first. If it doesn’t work for her, then we’ll find some other way.”

Of course, the most immediate way to get help would be to ask Tyltyl. But finding God would likely be just as difficult as finding the Cat House Gramps, if not more difficult. Sizing things up by ease of contact, Murase Youka came out as the clear winner.

Regardless, the ultimate conclusion was that they were headed back to the dream world.

✽

As usual, Kei had a hard time falling asleep.

He tried to be careful, emptying his mind as much as possible. But it was like trying to balance on a slippery ball. One misstep, and he would be caught in a swamp of worries, thoughts, and associations.

Tyltyl, Mytyl, the Blue Bird, a One-Handed Eden, the monster, sour grapes and sweet lemons, Souma Sumire, Haruki Misora…

Kei shook off all the invading thoughts, finally drifting off into sleep.

He opened his eyes, finding the unchanged hospital ceiling. Sitting up, he opened the curtain surrounding his bed.

He had hoped to find Mytyl in their hospital room again, but she wasn’t there. Instead, Haruki sat in the bed opposite him, while Nonō sat in a metal folding chair beside the bed. They were much better sleepers than Kei.

Putting on his socks and sneakers, Kei got out of bed. “I’m very sorry for making you both wait.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine. More importantly…”

“Right, I’ll try getting a hold of Murase-san.” Kei took out his phone, scrolling through his contacts, and got ready to call Murase Youka.

At that moment, his cell phone started ringing, even though he had previously set it to silent. The screen read, “Tyltyl”. Instead of a row of numbers, a series of asterisks were presented.

Does he have his eyes on us? Kei wondered, but didn’t bother looking around. Tyltyl was the god of the dream world, after all. Nothing he did could ultimately be considered strange.

Tyltyl’s voice rang from the receiver. “Heya. Morning.”

“But I just fell asleep.”

Tyltyl’s laugh echoed from the phone. “Well, from my perspective, you just woke up. So, morning.”

That was fair enough. “Good morning to you, Tyltyl. I’d like to see you, if at all possible. Do you think we could have a face-to-face meeting?”

“Maybe someday. But not today.”

“Why not?”

“I have no reason to want to see you. Besides, aren’t you busy with other things? You need to go find the Cat House Gramps for that young girl there.”

So he did know of their business. “Well, that’s where the trouble lies.”

Tyltyl chuckled, slight annoyance blending in. “Trouble, indeed. Without my permission, you won’t be able to meet that Cat House Gramps at all.”

But why would that be?

Is that a restriction of the Bureau?

Kei trusted his instinctual claim.

The Administration Bureau kept everyone away from the dream world with as long of a pole as they could manage. From what Kei knew, the Cat House Gramps was the only exception. That had to imply he was a particularly special individual.

Naturally, Tyltyl would have to go along with the Bureau. He may have been the god of the dream world, but Katagiri Honoka, the creator of that world, was in a very real hospital under the protection of the Bureau. If the Bureau moved Katagiri Honoka to a different hospital outside of Sakurada, the dream world would disappear. They could perform any real operations they wanted, and Tyltyl would be unable to lift so much as a finger against them.

Getting blacklisted from the Cat House Gramps by the Bureau would be a real problem.

They wouldn’t have an easy time pulling one over Tyltyl in the dream world. Granted, the Cat House Gramps would be somewhere in the hospital in reality, and definitely close to Katagiri Honoka. But even if they were to find some way to make contact with him there, it would very much put them on the Bureau’s bad side. Forget asking Murase for help, it was possibly dangerous even to let Nonō get in contact with him.

“Could we have your permission to meet with the Cat House Gramps?” Kei asked, just for the heck of it. Of course, it was only natural that they should be denied under the circumstances.

Tyltyl’s response was swift. “Sure. Fine by me.”

“Really?”

“‘Course. That’s what I called you for in the first place. Aren’t I just the sweetest?” With an amused chuckle, he continued, “Go visit where his house used to be at around 3 PM. You know the place, right? A Western-style house surrounded by an imposing wall, where all the stray cats gather.”

“I was told it’s just a parking lot now.”

“No, it’s been there for quite some time. It may look like a parking lot to those who aren’t actually looking. Even walking around it, you wouldn’t know. But it’s there. And today, from 3 PM to sunset, it will retain its original appearance.”

Kei could hardly make sense of it all.

“Dreams are such absurd things,” Tyltyl said.

Kei decided to just take everything Tyltyl said at his word. He was God, after all. No point in overthinking things. “Can I ask you one more question?”

“What’s that?”

“What kind of ability does the Cat House Gramps have?”

Kei couldn’t imagine any reason but an ability being enough for the Bureau to give him such special treatment.

“Well…” The hesitation was palpable in Tyltyl’s response. “His ability is… to write. He transcribes the Script. Day in and day out, he continues to transcribe the Script. All alone in his mansion that nobody visits and nobody knows about.”

Transcribing… the Script?

A memory flashed in Asai Kei’s mind.

What do you think of when you hear the word, ‘transcription’? The Index had asked him.

Make sure to read No. 407 of the Script carefully, Souma Sumire had relayed to him.

Those two memories suddenly formed a connection. Kei didn’t know how, but they obviously had one.

Tyltyl’s voice rang from his phone. “Now then, farewell, Asai Kei. We should talk again when we get the chance.”

“Wait. What’s a transcription of the Script?”

But Tyltyl didn’t answer. The only response Kei got was a mechanical buzzing. The call had already been cut off.

Man, what’s with that guy? Kei thought, clicking his tongue internally.

The Cat House Gramps was given special treatment by the Bureau. Furthermore, he was under strict guard to have minimal visitors. Meeting the Cat House Gramps could end up being a massive thorn in their side. Kei’s brain was putting up every red flag to prevent even so much as letting Nonō get close to him.

Transcribing the Script. Those few words that he didn’t understand drove his actions.

“What happened?” Nonō asked.

Slipping his cell into his pocket, Kei asked, “Do you know what the Cat House Gramps’ ability is, Nonō-san?”

“No, not at all.”

“It seems that his ability is to make transcriptions of the Script.”

“That’s Greek to me.”

“It is to me, too, but does that bring anything at all to mind?”

Nonō narrowed her eyes, responding, “It does. He was always holed up in his study, writing. But I never knew what he was writing.”

“I see.” Kei nodded, continuing, “It seems quite clear that the Bureau would be upset at us becoming acquainted with the Cat House Gramps. With that in mind, do you still want to see him?”

Without a hint of hesitation or nerves, Nonō nodded. “Yup. I want to see him.”

Kei didn’t know what kind of relationship Nonō could have with the Cat House Gramps. In fairness, he had only known her for around two months, and he was certainly no close compatriot of hers. But regardless, it seemed odd for her to have such a specific and focused desire to see one particular person. Whatever was between them, it had to be something rare and valuable.

Nonō frowned, looking slightly worried. “Are you going to stop me, Asai?”

Kei shook his head. “No. In fact, I’ll go with you.” And not just for her sake.

He needed to investigate what Souma Sumire’s intentions were, find out what a transcription of the Script was, and see about this “No. 407” for himself.

✽

My ability probably came from my iron will to live, Souma Sumire thought. She considered the thought further as she ate her sautéed chicken lunch in a restaurant packed with all sorts of ethnic knick-knacks.

From the very moment Souma Sumire was born, she lived in proximity to death.

As a newborn, her umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck, depriving her of oxygen. She was incredibly weak starting the second she left her mother’s body.

It was unlikely that she had much in the way of true intelligence at that time, but even her infant self must have instinctively realized that she was about to die. And upon sensing death, she was afraid. She had specifically wished to live.

With that wish, she gained the ability to see the future.

In the moments that life slipped out of her infant palm, she tried to see and know decades of life experiences. She wanted to get the value of a life fully lived during the flash of her life that was so quickly ending.

Well, I doubt I had thought about that many exhaustive aspects of it.

She just wanted to live.

She just wanted to see any future.

And so, Souma Sumire was born with the ability to know the future. She then saw the future through her mother calling out to her. The memories weren’t there anymore, but she assumed that was what happened.

She had to wonder if that initial future she saw was just a letdown. After all, she didn’t die back then.

But then, even though she–

No, the real Souma Sumire–

So strongly clung to life, she then ended her own life the summer two years past. It was like a sick joke.

She cut her chicken into small pieces, bringing them to her mouth. She could hardly taste it. Instead, she only felt pangs of guilt.

What right do I have to eat a living being when I’m dead?

It was such a stupid sentiment. She swallowed it down with the chicken. She could just write it off as being part of the dream world, anyway.

At that moment, the restaurant’s doors swung open.

The bell hung on the door rang with a deep, cavernous reverb. It was a large, rusty bell, not unlike what might hang around a cow’s neck.

Light streamed in from the door alongside a singular young girl with a blue bird on her shoulder. A slight dazzle filled the room.

“Sumire!” The girl ran straight up to Souma, leaping into her chest. The blue bird took off into the air with a slight panic.

As Souma listened to her creaking chair, she wondered if she ought to explain the dangers of jumping onto someone holding a fork and knife. Well, whatever, I’m not her trainer, she concluded, turning to look at the bird. The bird alighted on the other side of the table.

Setting down her knife and fork, Souma used a free hand to pat the girl’s head. “It’s been so long, Mytyl. Doing well?”

“Mhm. How about you, Sumire?”

“I’ve been alright. Feeling like morning glories recently.”

“Morning glories?”

“They wither away before blooming again.”

More accurately, they left behind seeds so that similar flowers could bloom in the future.

Mytyl tilted her head, but must have decided it was no big deal, as she pointed her finger randomly into the air. “Why are you all the way out here? I would’ve been so happy if you came to visit me.”

Souma knew it was a pointless venture, but she followed Mytyl’s finger anyway. She happened to be pointing at a speaker installed in the ceiling corner. She hadn’t been paying attention to it prior, but noticed it was playing slow, enigmatically rhythmic music. It sounds like Bohemian folk music, she thought.

Immediately, she questioned the thought. She didn’t know anything about Bohemia, and definitely not anything about its folk music. She assumed she was making an association with the word, “Bohemian”. She knew the phrase referred to someone akin to a drifter. The concept of a drifter fit the restaurant very well.

“Heeey, are you listening? Why didn’t you come to see me?”

Upon hearing Mytyl’s sulky tones, Souma nodded. “I was thinking of going to see you. I just wanted to finish my chicken first.”

“Chicken’s more important to you than me?”

“No. I just realized that chicken isn’t that important at all, actually.” She didn’t even really have an appetite. “Do you want to get something, too?” Souma asked, reaching for the menu.

Sitting down across the table, Michiru replied, “Fine, I’ll have ice cream.”

Souma opened the menu, checking the dessert section. “Looks like they have vanilla ice cream and chestnut gelato.”

“Hmm… I want the vanilla.”

“But the chestnut gelato is limited to the September menu.”

“I don’t care about stuff like that.”

Souma raised her hand, signaling the waiter. She ordered a serving of vanilla ice cream and asked for her half-eaten chicken dish to be removed.

Seeing that, Mytyl commented, “It’s wrong to leave food on your plate.”

“Even in a dream world?”

“Huh? Are dreams and reality any different?”

Thinking it over, Souma asked, “Why do you think it’s wrong to waste food, Mytyl?”

“Because Tyltyl said so.”

“I see.” It certainly had nothing to do with the life of the ingredients.

I doubt that Kei would tell me not to leave food on my plate, Souma thought.

There wasn’t much of a difference between throwing away food and forcing yourself to swallow more of it. It wouldn’t make any difference to the slaughtered chicken whether you ate all of it or not. A legitimate point of criticism would have been to tell her not to order food that she wasn’t hungry for. Perhaps if she hadn’t ordered, then humanity would have slaughtered one less chicken.

Mytyl leaned forward. “I caught up with Tyltyl, and he told me that you were here.”

“I see. So you’re getting along well with him?”

“Of course I am. We’re Tyltyl and Mytyl, after all.”

Tyltyl and Mytyl, the two protagonists of The Blue Bird. The older brother Tyltyl always protected Mytyl. He watched over her with unconditional, absolute love.

“Say, Mytyl, are you satisfied with this world?”

The waiter brought over vanilla ice cream and a hot coffee. The coffee was part of the sautéed chicken meal Souma had ordered.

Scooping up her vanilla ice cream with its accompanying wafer, Mytyl said, “Satisfied? ‘Course I am. There’s no happier world out there.”

“Happy, eh?”

“Of course! I can walk, run, and eat ice cream here. Tyltyl is always here to protect me. There’s nothing else that I could possibly need.”

Sweet lemons, Souma muttered to herself. It was the phrase Kei had brought up to Mytyl the day before.

People had to believe that the fruit in their hands was sweet, to protect what was important to them.

But, well, life just doesn’t work out that nicely most of the time.

Everyone was envious of the things they didn’t have. They all wanted something that someone else had. Even Souma, who had come to this restaurant to eat sautéed chicken that she wasn’t hungry for. Of course, she knew how pointless it all was, and she couldn’t even dredge up a hint of satisfaction.

It was hard to deceive her true feelings.

She could pull one over anyone else in the world, but she couldn’t lie to the true depths of her own heart.

My lies don’t work on me.

Souma turned her gaze towards the window. She beheld a destroyed city. There was still remaining damage from the monster the previous night, yet to be repaired.

Spoon in hand, Mytyl looked at Souma. “Something wrong? You’re acting kinda weird, Sumire.”

“Well, I was just starting to agree with you. There really is happiness here,” Souma responded, pouring milk into her coffee. She stirred the white and black contrasts together, adding an addendum to her statement in her mind.

But this happiness can’t save you.

Rather than saying that, Souma continued, “So hey, Michiru. Aren’t you interested in meeting with the Cat House Gramps?”

“The Cat House Gramps?”

“Yeah. The old man who lives alone, endlessly writing the Script.”

The only other real person in Mytyl’s dream world.

“Oh, yeah, now that you mention it, I guess there is someone like that. But, like, who cares?”

“What makes you say that?”

“What else would I say? What would I possibly do once I go see him?”

She could talk with him. Slowly and purposefully.

But before Souma could answer, Mytyl interjected with an, “Ah!”

Looking back, Souma saw that some ice cream had ended up on the chest of Mytyl’s shirt. Evidently Mytyl had spilled it.

With a small groan, Mytyl mumbled, “I’m gonna go wash this off.”

“Right. See you in a bit.”

Mytyl stood from her chair, trotting towards the back of the restaurant.

Souma turned her eyes toward the little blue bird atop the table. But she didn’t say anything. Rather, the bird opened its mouth.

“I’ll have to ask you to stop talking to Mytyl about that old man.”

Tyltyl’s voice came from the bird. No doubt he had forced the ice cream to spill, so that Mytyl would remove herself and allow the two of them to talk privately.

Souma shook her head. “Why, exactly? That old man is the only person capable of saving Mytyl.”

In truth, it could have been anyone. But at least in this world, it could only be that old man.

“Mytyl is scared of that man. And I must protect her.”

Souma wanted to say so many things. But instead, she nodded. “Fine. Do what you want, then.”

They were cowards, the both of them.

Too cowardly to leave paradise.