2 – The same day, 2:45 PM

“I’ve never read that Blue Bird book before,” Nonō Seika shared. “I know the leads are Tyltyl and Mytyl, and they’re looking for a blue bird. Not really anything else, though.”

Kei explained the story of The Blue Bird as they rocked in a bus down the mirror-imaged city. Haruki sat next to him. There were few enough passengers that all three of them were able to sit side-by-side on the wide seats in the back.

“So, one night, an enchantress appeared before Tyltyl and Mytyl. I guess she’s something of a cross between a sprite and a witch.”

“You mean like a fairy?”

“I’m not really privy to the details. If I had to guess, I’d say she was something like the fairy godmother from Cinderella.” Much like the fairy godmother, her role was to use mysterious powers and act as a bridge between fantasy and reality. But it was worth noting that the good fairy in The Blue Bird wasn’t as entirely altruistic as the fairy godmother. “The enchantress was looking for the Blue Bird herself. Her child was sick, and if she found the Blue Bird, she could cure her.”

“How does that work?”

“I don’t really know. The Blue Bird is just supposed to solve your problems if you find it. That’s kinda its purpose in the story.”

Specifically, the Blue Bird represented happiness. By getting it, happiness could be spread to everyone.

“At any rate, Tyltyl and Mytyl traveled the dream world looking for the Blue Bird. They get ahold of several blue birds, but none of them are the real one. They all lose their blue color eventually, and most of them die.”

The tale only told of a single, true Blue Bird.

The fakes would quickly be drained of their color, followed by death.

“After all sorts of adventures, Tyltyl and Mytyl still aren’t able to capture the Blue Bird. Then, they wake up in their beds, back in the real world.”

“Oh, I know that part. The bird they own turns blue, right?”

Kei nodded at Nonō’s intervention. “Yeah, but there’s a little more to the story, both before and after that.”

After waking up, Tyltyl and Mytyl were visited by their neighbor. The woman was the spitting image of the enchantress, and her child was sick and bedridden, so she asked for Tyltyl’s pet turtle dove.

Tyltyl decided to gift his pet turtle dove, and upon doing so noticed that his pet turtle dove had turned a splendid shade of blue. It made Tyltyl realize that he had the Blue Bird all along.

Tyltyl gave the Blue Bird to the sickly girl as a present.

Upon receiving the bird, the sick girl was cured, and stood up to go and give Tyltyl her thanks. But just then, the Blue Bird escaped, flying away.

“It ends with the cast turning to the audience and requesting that if any of them have found the Blue Bird, please return it.”

“The audience?”

“The Blue Bird was initially written as a stage play.”

The bus suddenly jolted violently, likely from the uneven road.

Nonō tilted her head. “All that being the case, why are Tyltyl and Mytyl in this dream world?”

“Hard to say. Maybe they just use those names because it’s a dream world. Maybe there’s some important connective link about it that we don’t have. I sure don’t know.”

The only clear fact was that in this dream world, Mytyl already had her Blue Bird. She already possessed the symbol of happiness.

But was it the real Blue Bird? Could it actually save her, or would it just be drained of its color and die?

Casting her eyes down slightly, Nonō remarked, “I wonder why the Blue Bird ran away.”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I just don’t get the point of the story. If it was trying to say that the happiness you desire is always close by, then why would it need to escape?”

She did have a point.

Perhaps the author was trying to make a point that true happiness wasn’t something you could lock away in a cage. Or maybe he meant something even more deeply metaphorical.

Unsure, Kei gave the simplest answer that came to mind. “Isn’t it more beautiful to watch a bird fly in the sky? At least more than sitting in a cage.”

Kei didn’t think it was wrong for them to live happily alongside a caged bird, but the Blue Bird of happiness would certainly look more beautiful taking off into the sky. Besides, even if the bird was gone, that didn’t mean that happiness had left them.

Even with those conclusions, Kei could only shake his head inwardly.

Either way, this world is built for someone to rely upon the Blue Bird.

Without her dream world, the cage that could hold her Blue Bird, Mytyl would have nothing. She wouldn’t be able to open her eyes, let alone get out of bed. She couldn’t afford to let it go.

“Can’t the Blue Bird bring itself happiness?” Nonō asked.

“You mean the Blue Bird making the Blue Bird happy?”

She nodded. “If it ran away, then it must’ve not liked where it lived. But in that case, couldn’t it just transform that place into its version of paradise?”

Kei doubted that it was common to consider the story from the perspective of the Blue Bird. Nonō was always like that, having little care for the distinction between the ways she thought and the way other people did. Kei even wondered if she was doing it on purpose to play a sort of Devil’s Advocate.

He responded, “I don’t know what would bring the Blue Bird happiness.”

The Blue Bird’s happiness. The happiness of a paradise. The happiness of someone who can create happiness.

Could a God even create a world that could be its own paradise?

Maybe Katagiri Honoka made Tyltyl out of her incapability to do just that. She stopped being the Blue Bird, becoming Mytyl.

So there was Tyltyl, imposed with the role of the Blue Bird and all the capabilities of God for the world. Could he bring himself happiness?

“If you were God, then what kind of world would you create, Nonō-san?”

“I dunno. Never really thought about it.”

“Do you think you know what it takes to make the happiest world possible?”

Nonō closed her eyes for a short while, then opened them back up, shaking her head. “Well, when I see cats fighting and hurting each other, it makes me sad. But I don’t think that means I should take away their claws.”

The statement was delivered with all her typical passivity.

It took them roughly 20 minutes to reach their destination, consisting of a five-minute walk following their 15-minute bus ride. The weather was much cooler than it had been in August, so despite their walk, Kei had yet to break a sweat.

As they stepped into a residential area, cicada cries became more and more apparent, giving the illusion that summer still existed in this small part of town. They had found a pocket where summer and fall coexisted with each other in the late September day.

“That’s the house,” Nonō exclaimed. “The Cat House Gramps lived right in there.” She pointed to a large and fairly old Western-style house. The perimeter was surrounded by a massive red brick wall, met by a black entrance gate which was securely locked. The fence gave way to a large garden and a two-story wooden abode tucked in the back. If the walls were painted white and a cross slapped on the roof, it would have looked like a church.

“This is where the parking lot was yesterday?” Kei inquired.

“Yup. No doubt about it,” Nonō answered.

Kei turned his gaze towards Haruki. “Do you mind waiting somewhere else for me?”

Kei had no idea what the Bureau’s reaction would be to him meeting with the Cat House Gramps. That being the case, there was certainly no reason to drag Haruki into that trouble with him.

Haruki gazed straight into his eyes, asking, “But you are going in, are you not?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m curious about the Cat House Gramps’ ability.” Not to mention I have to read “No. 407” of the Script.

Kei could only make sense of Souma Sumire’s message by tying it to the old man’s ability. But he had kept all of that information secret from Haruki. He had a feeling that if he brought up Souma Sumire’s name, Haruki would turn stubborn.

The thought made Kei want to chuckle, though he made sure to stifle it. Haruki and stubbornness. He could hardly imagine two words that would fit together worse.

But all of Kei’s careful efforts were in vain. Haruki shook her head. “I will be going with you.”

“Why?”

“I do not have a specific reason.”

“Really.” Kei exhaled. It wasn’t a sigh. It was a warmer and more positive exhalation. “Well, can’t do anything about that.”

If she had a reason, he could possibly refute it, but if she was acting on a whim, he really couldn’t do anything against it. Besides, the Bureau hadn’t strictly forbidden them from doing what they were doing, so it was possible they viewed his current action as more of a discomfort than a danger.

If I have to, I can still reset. He wasn’t sure if that would be a guarantee, especially against the Bureau, but it was better than nothing.

“You okay?” Nonō asked.

“Yeah. Let’s go. I was just thinking, if you’re going to meet him for the first time in so long, it might be better if we weren’t here.” At the same time, he just couldn’t resist the allure of the Script.

“Nah. I think you’d better come. I haven’t seen him in so long, I’m actually feeling a bit nervous.”

It was a bit surprising to hear Nonō talk about nerves. He had never pictured her in any state other than perfect peace and calm.

Nonō passed the main entrance, entering a narrow alleyway on the side of the estate.

Following behind her, Kei asked, “We’re not going in the front?”

“The gate’s locked, and his intercom is broken, just like it always was. But all we have to do is take the back way.”

The alley was only a few feet wide, with exposed soil making up the ground. To the right was the massive estate wall, and to the left was an irrigation canal. The water in the canal quietly gurgled, and tall grass brushed up on Kei’s arms. It was interesting how quickly the town turned into the countryside once they left the urban centers.

“This really takes me back. I used to chase cats through this passage when I was little.”

“Are we looking for a back door or something?”

“Nope.”

“Then how exactly are we getting in?” The wall surrounding the mansion was too tall to expect any of them to get over.

“Well, if something’s high up, you jump to it. But if it’s even higher up, you find a way under. Even a cat knows that.” Nonō pointed ahead to a section of wall that had crumbled away. The hole was possible to squeeze through by crawling.

“We’re going in through there?”

“Aren’t any other ways through.”

“But, won’t the Cat House Gramps get upset at us?”

“It’s fine. He’s a bit odd.”

Kei didn’t think that answered his question, but also didn’t have any rebuttals. If the old man got pissed, he figured he would just have to sincerely apologize as best as he could.

Nonō calmly got down on all fours, worming through the hole. Haruki followed her with absolutely no hesitation, naturally. After waiting a little while, Kei followed after them.

The mansion’s garden was choked with weeds. Evidently nobody cared for the grounds.

Standing up and brushing the dirt off his knees, Kei remarked, “The two of you could afford to be a little more aware of what it means to wear a skirt.”

Haruki replied, “Understood,” but Nonō walked away wordlessly.

Pushing aside weeds of all shapes and sizes, the party made their way towards the house. Particularly dry, yellow grass caught Kei’s eye. He was unsure if the lawn itself was lacking water, or if it was simply in season for the grass to turn yellow.

Eventually, they reached a chest high window, which had been opened about four inches. A yellow beer crate was placed upside-down below the window. Nonō immediately clambered up on the crate, slid the window open, and slipped inside. Haruki once again followed behind her, but as she hiked her leg up, she held down the hem of her skirt with apparent caution.

The effort towards chastity hardly helped the situation, though. Even if she had been wearing pants, Kei had a hard time justifying the sight of two high school girls breaking into a man’s house through the window.

Well, technically, there’s only a crime if there’s a victim. Kei could only hope that the Cat House Gramps was generous enough to politely ignore three teenagers breaking and entering. Kei stepped on the beer case, pushing himself through the window.

He entered into a spacious living room. Everything in sight was very old and dusty. The house didn’t even look lived in.

There was a deep green sofa set next to the window with a tabby cat sleeping on it. The cat appeared to be some sort of mixed breed. It meowed, to which Nonō replied, “Hey.” She played it off as if she was simply responding to a passing friend in the school hallway.

“This way.” Nonō walked towards a door. Kei had expected the wooden floors of such an old house to make all sorts of creaking noises, but reality superseded his expectations. Their footsteps were only slightly louder than they had been on the dirt outside.

“Should we remove our shoes?” Haruki queried.

“Ah, it’s fine. It’s a Western house anyway. The owner always wears his shoes indoors,” Nonō replied.

They exited the living room, walking down a hallway. The hallway had few windows, making it very dark. The air had a sort of damp to it, reminding Kei of deep forests where trees blocked most of the light from entering. A deep forest. Dark and silent. As Kei pondered the thought, he realized just how soundless the house was. The silence really made the house feel empty, even more so than the unkempt garden and dusty rooms.

They passed by two cats with gleaming eyes before Nonō stopped in front of a door. It was a fairly ordinary door that looked like the rest of the many doors lining the hall. It was made of deep brown wood and sported a golden knob. Kei could just barely make out the details from the small amount of light filtering in from the window far down the hall.

A single, white cat stood before the door. The house had been dotted with several cats thus far. The white cat was sharpening its claws on the door, seemingly eager for it to be opened.

Nonō knocked on the door with three resounding thunks. No response came.

“I’m coming in,” she announced, pulling the door open. The white cat by her side skittered over in a tizzy, dashing through before the door was fully open.

A scratching sound emnated from the room, not unlike the sound of the cat’s claws just prior. It drifted alongside the faint smell of coffee. Front and center in the room sat an elderly man at a desk. He had a fairly large build for his age, and seemed to be writing. The scratching sounds had been his fountain pen moving along parchment.

Nonō called out to the old man’s back. “It has been quite some time.”

The old man turned their way with a slow movement, like a rusty pulley. His hair was entirely white, and he had a matching beard, but his eyebrows were uniquely gray. He wore a pair of round glasses.

“Ah, it’s you.” The old man spoke without a hint of a smile or surprise.

Although he had turned his face towards them, his hand had not stopped writing. His right hand continued scratching away at the paper. It was a surreal sight, almost as if his hand and body were of a different mind.

Nonō’s voice was strung with a tension that Kei assumed was due to her nervousness. “I cannot remember how many years it has been since I last saw you. I am unable to remember.”

“Five years, eleven months, and nine days,” the old man answered.

At that moment, the scratching of the fountain pen finally ceased.

It was something of a surprise for Kei to discover that the old Western-style house had a collection of decent coffee beans, as well as enough saucers and cups for four.

The old man lined up enough coffee for everyone on the living room table before taking a seat on the sofa and speaking. “The kitchen should have some chocolate cookies in it, but I couldn’t find them. You can go after them yourselves if you want them.”

Kei was about to politely decline, but before he could get a word out Nonō interjected, “Very well.”

The old man watched her back recede into the kitchen as he exclaimed, “Goodness. I suppose forgetting where the cookies are is part of getting old.”

“But you just now recited the exact amount of time from when you last saw Nonō-san,” Kei countered. The recollection had appeared to be effortless.

The old man stroked his chin. “Nonō? Oh, I see, the girl is Nonō.”

“You didn’t know that?”

The old man leaned his back into the sofa, nodding as if Kei had just made any other passing comment. “Names are symbols. Symbols exist to distinguish between things. If there is no need to distinguish, there is no need for names. Apart from cats, that girl is the only visitor I ever received.”

“I see.”

Nonō had similarly said that she didn’t know the old man’s name.

Kei couldn’t help but find their relationship strange. The old man remembered the exact date of the last time he had met a person whose name he didn’t know, and Nonō had similarly traveled all the way through the dream world just to meet with the same man whose name she also didn’t know.

The old man spoke in a husky voice, one that sounded like it was coming from an exhaust vent. “I never forget numbers. I may not know where the cookies are, but I know there are only 13 left. Each one has 52 calories. They will expire in 100 more days.”

“So, you like numbers?”

“Yes. I like numbers and mathematical formulas. I do not care for the word, ‘like’, however.”

“I apologize for the slip-up.”

“No, pay it no mind.”

The old man’s way of speaking was very unique. Part of him seemed grumpy, yet another part of him seemed so composed. His voice resounded with constant irritation, but he had made peace with that irritation.

The old man narrowed his eyes. “Am I to assume you are her friends?”

The answer to his question rang from the kitchen. “I see no difference between friends and acquaintances. But it would not bother me for you to think of them as my friends.”

Nonō Seika reappeared from the kitchen, holding a tin of cookies. She placed them on the table, sitting down beside the old man. “Why were the cookies placed inside of a burnt pot?”

The old man shrugged. “I dunno. But, more importantly, I see that you’ve learned to speak more politely.”

“I am a high schooler now. Even I know how to show proper respect towards my elders.”

“I see.”

The two were silent following that short exchange.

This is like those scenes where an estranged father and child meet each other for the first time in years, Kei thought. If I met with my father again, it’d probably end up something like this.

A cat leapt onto the sofa, then out the window.

Haruki took a sip of her coffee and placed the cup back down. The small clinks of her china echoed through the room. Once those sounds faded, Nonō finally spoke.

“Why… are you in the dream world?”

The old man stared at the cup in his hands, answering, “My lungs, kidneys, and back all gave out. I can’t even sit up any more.”

“Is it comfortable living here?”

“Yes. It’s just like it was back when I first met you.”

“Don’t you have any family?”

The old man smiled, his face creasing. “I never thought you’d be the one to ask me that. No. I never had children, and my wife passed away 20 years ago.”

“I see.”

“Mm.”

They didn’t share a single physical resemblance, but they acted exactly like parent and child. Their word choice, tone, breathing, and other such elements were so similar. They had clearly spent a lot of time in each other’s presence.

Nonō had her own past, as was only natural. But the old man was clearly deeply connected to that history, to the point where they didn’t even need names. Like he had said, their connection was so clear that it lacked a need for such symbols.

Another deep silence filled the room. Perhaps in the same way that mixing every color together created black, mixing all sorts of words together created silence.

Kei thought that it really would have been best to let Nonō come alone. She should have just overcome her nervousness, allowing whatever conversation and silence was created to flow naturally between the two of them.

Well, whatever their circumstances may be, I am here for a reason.

Souma Sumire must have sent him to the house to learn more about the old man’s ability.

He was reluctant to break the silence that was reserved for the two of them. But he still opened his mouth. “Could you please tell me about your ability?”

The old man glanced at Kei, quickly replying. It was like he was trying to escape the silence. “In a manner of speaking, it’s the ability to write truth. It’s entirely automatic, happening without any conscious input from me. My hand moves of its own accord to write the truth down onto the page.”

“Truth?”

“Yes. I have no idea what any of it is talking about, but whatever it may be, it is the truth. My ability gives word to absolute truth.” He took a sip of coffee, then exhaled. Holding his cup in one hand, he continued, “The world is engraved with truth. Past and present matter not, only the pure facts. The Administration Bureau refers to my series of facts as the Script. So, my ability is to transcribe the Script.”

Kei’s mind was in ruins.

The Script. Absolute truth. He knew what those meant in concept, and the idea that the old man could do as he claimed was plausible. But if he really could do that, his ability was just too absurdly special. An ability like that didn’t belong anywhere, even a place like Sakurada.

“Would you mind if I read some of your writings?” Kei asked.

Disinterestedly, the man replied, “They’re in the study. Do what you want.”

✽

“The Script,” Ukawa Sasane whispered.

The words should have been drowned out by the engine and the wind, but the man in the backseat seemed to hear them loud and clear.

“Yes, the Script,” he replied dramatically. “God wrote it, and it was given to Laplace under the name of Intelligence. Intelligence became known as Laplace’s Demon, but it was killed in 1927. The murderer, of course, was Heisenburg. But some say the murder was a hoax, and he simply hid the demon in an inconspicuous place. Einstein and Schrödinger were of that mind. Schrödinger knew that a cat couldn’t be both half-dead and half-alive inside the box. That was most certainly impossible–”

And so the man driveled on and on.

His voice was clear and easy to understand, but it was in one ear and out the other for Ukawa Sasane. Or, to put it another way, she just didn’t understand what he was going on about. But it probably didn’t matter anyway. When that man took to using as many words as possible, they tended to lose all meaning in the process. The really important stuff could be said in fewer words.

Ukawa Sasane was inside a compact, almost toy-like car, sitting in the passenger seat and resting her elbow on the open window. A Bureau employee in a black suit was driving the car beside her. His name was Kagaya, or something. He rarely spoke, and never emoted. But she could remember a day that he took off due to his wife having a cold. All said, he was probably a pretty normal guy.

Two other Bureau officials sat in the car’s backseat.

Directly behind Ukawa was a woman. Ukawa didn’t know the woman’s real name, only that she went by The Index. The Index was quiet, much like Kagaya, but she felt distinctly more human. It wasn’t as though she never talked, but rather that she purposely held back her words.

Not talking much must have been in the salary contract of Bureau employees. But then again, the very antithesis of that joke sat diagonally from Ukawa in the backseat. Another Bureau official by the name of Urachi.

He was still blathering on from what he had been saying before.

“Laplace’s Demon died because of the limitations imposed by physics. But of course, humanity hasn’t strictly proven the uncertainty of the future. It’s only realized that within the scope of our current knowledge, the future becomes impossible to accurately predict. Of course, Sakurada’s abilities stand well outside the bounds of physics, bringing Laplace’s Demon back from the dead.”

Laplace’s Demon. A phrase she had heard before.

Ukawa Sasane tried thinking where that phrase had come from previously. Not that she actually cared. But she was so bored, and there was nothing else to do. The tiny car the four of them rode in wasn’t particularly fast, and she had been looking at the view of Sakurada out her window ever since she was born. It was only natural it should bore her.

The sunlight broke through the clouds, and the answer came to her as if from those same clouds at the same time.

Oh, right. It refers to someone who’s smart enough to accurately predict the future.

Well, not a person, strictly. A Demon. Laplace’s Demon.

If one being had the intelligence to observe the entire world, every single thing, convert it into data, and analyze it, they could come to accurate conclusions about what the future brought. A certain future born from calculation. The name of the intelligence that could accurately calculate and predict all those variables was referred to as Laplace’s Demon.

Ukawa thought it a bit of a shame that such a being would be called a demon. But did she have a better name? She spent some time trying to come up with a new one. She truly was bored.

Ukawa Sasane was currently working her part-time job.

Despite her present boredom, she was still being paid by the hour. That must have been first-world capitalism on full display. Talk about convenience.

 She realized that Urachi had finally finished his long-winded rant.

Ukawa muttered another phrase into the wind and engine noises. “So, what’s the Script, exactly?”

She saw The Index sigh in the rearview mirror. No doubt the woman figured Urachi would take the opportunity to begin yet another meaningless ramble. In her defense, it was quite annoying to sit inside a confined space and hear someone go on forever about something. Ukawa even felt a little guilty for asking her question.

But Urachi’s response carried more sincerity than it had before. “Let’s say, for example, that the world was a stage.”

“A stage?”

“Yes. In that case, we are all actors. We follow each individual scenario, speaking and acting and emoting in accordance with its instruction. Even the wind, the sun, and the skies are fully dictated by their own scenarios.”

“Sure sounds restrictive to only speak predetermined lines.”

“But we’re all perfect method actors. We get so into our roles that we forget we’re following a scenario, and acting only as we were instructed. But we never make mistakes, and everything progresses as planned. As if God himself wrote each scene. Those scenarios all form together to become the Script,” Urachi said.

Ukawa Sasane imagined a world where every human read a script before living their life, then asked, “This is all just an analogy, right?”

“No, the Script is all too real,” Urachi said with confidence.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“You know of the Reset ability, yes?”

Ukawa nodded. It was the ability held by the boy she met two years ago, Asai Kei. No, wait. It was easy to get mixed up, but that ability actually belonged to Haruki Misora.

Urachi continued, “Even using a reset doesn’t change the future. Everyone behaves exactly the same both before and after a reset. Even actions that seem to be taken on a whim are strictly predetermined.”

Sure enough, Asai Kei had shared that events were almost always the same between resets. But that wasn’t all. “But Asai told me that there was a girl who was alive before a reset, and dead after it.” Clearly, not everything was the same. Something changed.

Urachi nonchalantly denied her plea. “If an event changed between resets, it means that an ability was involved.”

“Well, that just means that the right ability lets you act against the Script, right?”

“No, that would be impossible.”

That didn’t sound right. “But Asai keeps his memories after a reset. He can change his actions.”

“But the Script predetermined that the reset would be used in the first place as an attempt to change the future. He can try to change the future, and think that he did, but it was all determined in the distant past.” After a small chuckle that almost sounded self-deprecating, Urachi continued, “Truth is, the Nameless System’s ability to see into the future also informed her of when and how resets would be used.”

The Nameless System. A woman who used her ability to future sight to maintain any possible problems arising within Sakurada. She called herself a Witch.

Ukawa had been informed by Urachi of the Witch’s existence. She only learned of the woman a few weeks ago, and by that point, the Witch wasn’t even a part of the Bureau any longer.

I wish I could’ve met her, even just once, Ukawa thought.

What would it be like to live her life solely for the sake of one town, abandoning everything else for it, even her own name? Ukawa was sure that the Witch must’ve been led by a strict sense of justice.

Urachi continued on, his voice somewhat subdued. “I’m sure that even her future sight is all laid out within the Script. And if someone were to possess a more powerful ability of future sight than the Nameless System, even her future sight and future-changing actions could have been predicted and understood.”

“What makes you think that?”

“We have proof. The WItch’s words had been written down in one of the transcripts of the Script. They were words that would change the future. They had been written down before the Witch spoke them, but were only discovered by the Bureau after the fact. The Script superseded her future sight and predicted the exact future.”

Ukawa couldn’t really understand the full scope of it all, but she responded with, “I see,” and a casual nod. Too many annoying variables had just come into play.

Urachi was silent following that exchange. It was remarkable how much he looked like a proper Bureau employee when he kept his mouth shut.

Ukawa turned her gaze out the window.

They only needed to drive a little further before finding this Script, and the man who continued to transcribe it.

✽

Nonō sat beside the old man.

It was just the two of them. Asai had retreated into the study, Haruki right behind him.

Mhm. This sure is awkward, she thought to herself, nibbling on a cookie.

The old man stayed silent, staring down at the coffee cup in his hand. Does he not want to make any conversation? Should I have even come here at all? Questions rang around Nonō’s head, but the answers were more than obvious.

Most likely, he’s probably thinking the same thing I am. I’m sure he is.

She wasn’t unhappy to see him again, but at the same time, she didn’t want to just carelessly chat away. Moments of silence were awkward, but if she tried to push them out by force, she might miss an important moment.

Of course, communication was never a particularly strong suit. For me, that is.

Making excuses in her mind, Nonō sipped her coffee, which was already going cold. As she considered the moment, she realized that even in the past, they had spent a lot of time in silence. Back then, there were far more moments of silence than of conversation.

At some point, I had just accepted the silence as something natural.

In the past, their silence had its own meaning. It was like a secret handshake, a form of affection. It felt entirely normal, comforting, even. That made it easier to break the silence and speak.

But things are different now than they were back then.

She had to search hard to try and find the right words.

As she thought it over, an old memory began to unearth in Nonō Seika’s mind.

It was a rather old memory, from when she was seven or eight years old. She wasn’t sure of the exact time period, but that seemed to fit.

She was so young, and sitting down on the couch. At the time, she was still in the early grades of elementary school. The old man sat across from her. He was an old man, just as he was in the present.

Nonō was fiddling with a puzzle ring. Details like the length of her hair and the color of the old man’s clothes were fuzzy, but she could clearly see the puzzle ring in her mind. The problem, and her inability to solve it at the time, remained with perfect clarity.

“A puzzle ring is a lesson in finding the right way,” the old man commented.

Nonō pulled at the puzzle ring with all her might, completely aware of how trivial her efforts were. She asked in a gumpy tone, “Is finding what’s right like answering an arithmetic problem?”

Nonō’s vocabulary, thought processes, and way of asking questions were all learned from the old man.

She didn’t have any other real acquaintances. She had always been so poor at communication. As a result, she didn’t want to bother talking with anyone she found uninteresting. As it happened, there wasn’t a single person at school that she took interest in. She felt like all the children and adults she knew lived in a different world than hers. Everyone except the old man, at least.

Stroking his chin, the old man answered, “Nothing in this world can measure up to how right numbers are. If you used a large lens, much larger than a magnifying glass, you could see that everything in the world is made up of neatly arranged numbers. Of course, no human is capable of looking out that far.”

“I don’t really get what you’re talking about.”

“Children shouldn’t talk so rudely to their elders.”

That hardly seemed to matter to Nonō, so she continued clinking around the puzzle in her hands. The puzzle was getting boring, but she didn’t want to give up. “So, how do you find the right way?” Nonō asked.

The old man narrowed his eyes, focusing on Nonō’s hands before finally answering, “Consider two boxes in your head. Label them A and B.”

”Aey and Bee.” Nonō was pretty sure he had just used English.

“Okay, that specifically doesn’t matter. You just need to distinguish between the two of them, like red and blue, circle and cross, or Romeo and Juliet.”

“Hm. And then?”

“Put everything you can think of in Box A. Leave Box B empty.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Absolutely everything. What are some things in the world?”

“Cats.”

“Yes, those do. What else exists?”

“Me, and you, and my parents, and milk, and cookies-”

“Precisely. There are also shoes, clothes, laws, lies, and Euler’s formula.”

“Formula?”

“One of the most beautiful things to exist in the world. Now, continue to put everything else into your box.”

Nonō prepared a box in her head and began thinking of everything she could put into it. “Even dogs fighting cats?”

“They will do as they will. Dogs and cats are free to do as they please.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Sheets, detergent, whipped cream, swings, the sun, night.

Just as she thought she was approaching everything, she realized she had forgotten to include the puzzle in her hand.

“I can’t fit in everything. I’m gonna forget stuff.”

“It will always be that way. Don’t mind it. Once you think you have nearly everything, take a good look at the box.”

“The Aey box.”

“Yes, Box A. You put a lot of things in there. Now, take anything that wouldn’t be right, and put it in Box B. It doesn’t matter how little, if there’s anything not right about it, shove it into the other one.”

“Lies and socks are not right.”

“I understand lies, but socks?”

“I mix up the pairs every now and then. Plus, it’s dangerous to put them on while standing up.”

“I see. That’s the spirit.”

Nonō didn’t really get what her spirit had to do with it, but she kept moving things from Box A to Box B. Dogs were definitely off the list. Cats were scared of them. Clothes could easily get dirty, and shoes felt cramped.

“There isn’t really anything wrong with whipped cream.”

It was sweet, white, and happy-feeling.

But the old man shook his head. “But it’s bad for you to eat too much. Besides, it makes your mouth sticky.”

“I see. Into the bad box, then. Do swings pose a problem?”

“Of course. You’re supposed to ride them, but they don’t go anywhere.”

“That’s fine. They aren’t supposed to go anywhere, anyway.”

“Well, if you ride them for too long, you get sick.”

“Really? Well, fine.” She couldn’t counter, so swings went into Box B. “How long am I supposed to do this?”

“Until there’s nothing left in Box A.”

“Nothing left?”

“Yes. The purpose of this exercise was to discover that there is something wrong with everything.”

“Nothing can be right?”

“Anything that exists in this world has a part of it that isn’t right. Think of it this way: Every good thing in the world has at least one bad spot.”

She didn’t really get it.

She thought he was teaching her how to find what was right. If everything was really just wrong, then what was the point of the whole thing?

She continued taking things out of Box A, searching them for problems, finding one, then placing it into Box B. After about five minutes, the words, “I’m bored,” tumbled out of her mouth. She had already forgotten whatever else she might have put into Box A.

“I see. Well, that’s fine.”

“It’s really fine?”

“Yes, we’re moving on. You’ve placed everything from Box A into Box B. Now, let’s take a closer look at Box B.”

No matter where she looked, all she saw were flawed items.

The old man continued, ”Now, from inside the box, pick the one thing that still stands out as better than the others. That’s what you think is truly right.”

“But part of it’s wrong.”

“Of course. Anything that can be right has a part of it that can be wrong. But when you understand its flaws and still find it to be right, that is something that can be truly righteous.”

The old man’s voice was soft, as if he were talking in his sleep.

After a moment, Nonō picked something from Box B that stood out to her.

“Now, what do you think is right?” the old man asked.

“Cats,” Nonō responded.

Cats had claws that scratched, and wouldn’t often come to you when you called. But just because it had claws didn’t mean she couldn’t love it, and it could make its own choice to come to her when she asked.

“That’s how you can find what is right,” the old man stated.

Nonō wasn’t really sure how useful that whole tangent was.

She gave it a trial run, trying to figure out how to solve the puzzle ring before her. She threw every possible solution for it into Box A, rigorously imagined how each possibility could fail, then tossed them into Box B.

Of all the solutions in Box B, the one that seemed the most competent was to turn the rings. In theory, if she held each end of the puzzle ring and turned like she was kneading dough, then they could split apart easily. She wasn’t sure how it would work practically, but it seemed convincing enough.

Nonō tried moving the puzzle rings in accordance with her simulation.

She felt the strain of metal rubbing on metal. Then, with an abrupt end, the two rings split apart.

Nonō stared at the solved puzzle ring in her hands, mumbling, “I see. So that’s how it works.”

“That was just a coincidence,” the old man shot back, taking the puzzle rings from Nonō and reconnecting them.

That wasn’t really a suitable conversation for such a young child.

The high schooler Nonō Seika smiled. In fairness, the old man’s methodology to find what was right was indeed quite effective. But it was far too tiring to use every moment of every day.

Nonō took all sorts of words and phrases, put them into Box A, examined them, then placed them into Box B. Some were sickly sweet, like whipped cream. Some were like a swing, and didn’t go anywhere.

As always, cats come out on top, Nonō thought. The kinds of words that would be carefree, perhaps even a little aggressive, but always forgivable.

“For as long as I have known you, you spent your entire life given over to your ability,” Nonō said.

In every memory where she visited the Western mansion, he was at his desk, pen moving. Always penning his transcription of the Script– whatever that was supposed to be. But she could understand a life of continued ability usage.

The old man nodded. “I have. Do you find that reproachful?”

“No. I have always lived the same way.”

The old man’s head shook slowly. He seemed to be preparing to say something, but the words never came.

Nonō continued, “This world is a lot like our abilities.”

The old man’s gaze, which had been solidly fixed on his coffee cup, slowly moved towards Nonō’s forehead. “I agree.”

Nonō could share her consciousness with cats, and the old man could write the absolute truth. They were completely different abilities. And yet they were the same in the cruelest ways possible. They were so similar it hurt.

Nonō Seika spent the majority of her days sharing her consciousness with cats. That was, of course, because she liked cats. Put another way, it was because she was unskilled at human interaction. That wasn’t to say she hated people. It was more like she was bad with them. Any time she found herself surrounded by many people, she always felt distinctly lacking.

It was like being forced to eat her least favorite food.

As far as Nonō cared, eating something she didn’t like wasn’t all that bad. She could just grin and bear it, swallowing when it was over. What she really hated was not being allowed to dislike something. She would rather people didn’t phrase her dislike as something inherently bad. She didn’t want her feelings of dislike to be so casually trampled on.

To that end, cats were so much better. They never forced anything on her. Their group connections were so clearly different from humans. Other cats didn’t get annoyed or pity a cat who didn’t eat something they considered tasty. If it wasted away from deciding not to eat, it would simply die. It had a freedom that didn’t exist in human society.

For Nonō, the world of cats was paradise.

And Nonō continued to give herself over to that paradise.

He’s just like me.

The old man’s life was a continual writing of the truth. He was disconnected from reality, given over to a world of comfortable rightness.

Even Nonō could see how unhealthy it all was. And she knew that her own life was rife with the same problems.

Like running away to this world of dreams.

Nonō and the old man alike chose to only live within their own paradise.

“I suppose I’m the one to blame. I didn’t teach a child the things they truly needed to learn.” The old man’s voice was rough, sounding as though he was about to cry.

It was only upon hearing that voice that Nonō realized he, too, had grown older. He had always been an old man to her, so it was harder to notice at first.

Nonō shook her head. “But you were the only one who came to my rescue when I was a child.”

The old man looked in her direction, moving only his eyes. “I don’t recall that.”

“It is better that way. There is no greater peace than being rescued without realizing it.”

If he had been the kind of old man to go out of his way to try and help her, Nonō doubted she would have been drawn to him in the first place. She would have shrugged him off, self-assured that she was just fine living the way she wanted, confident that she didn’t need his help.

But he didn’t do anything. He just accepted Nonō Seika, the person, allowing her to be by his side. Nobody else had given her that space when she was young.

“Do you remember the day we first met?” Nonō asked.

The old man nodded. “Nine years, two months, and twenty-seven days ago. You came here chasing after a cat.”

“Do you remember what we talked about after that?”

He shook his head.

Nonō pointed towards the corner of the living room closest to the kitchen. “You had a small dish of milk there, and the cats were drinking from it.”

“And then?”

“I was watching the cats drink, and you appeared, asking if I wanted milk, too.”

“I don’t have any recollection of that.”

Even so, Nonō could see it clearly. She had been shocked. She never thought she would meet an adult willing to feed a child milk in the same way one fed a cat milk.

“I turned down your offer for milk, then asked for the cats’ names.”

“Well, I truly don’t remember this. But I can tell you what I answered.”

Nonō nodded.

I don’t know, he had answered.

“I rather dislike naming cats,” Nonō said. “I find it somewhat conceited. But no matter how much I tell other people that, they just don’t understand.”

The old man shook his head. “I wasn’t respecting the cats’ dignity or anything. I just didn’t want to bother giving them names.”

“The circumstances didn’t matter to me. That day, I thought to myself that I had found someone who was truly mysterious.”

That conversation made up the only words they exchanged on that first day.

Nonō returned the following day. Their second conversation was even shorter. The old man remarked, “So you’re here again,” and Nonō responded, “I’m here.” That was all.

The old man paid no special attention to Nonō, but neither did he ever reject her presence. He treated her like a lost or stray cat. It felt nice. Before Nonō knew it, talking with him had become something she enjoyed.

“I never was good at fitting in with humans. Society is harsh enough on its own, but human children who don’t fit well with humans get a unique share of struggles.” Struggles that were tiresome enough to grant a young Nonō the ability to escape into the world of cats. “But you never wanted anything from me. You were a human that didn’t come with the baggage of human society. You rescued me.”

She really did hate humans back then.

At present, she didn’t hate them anymore. She couldn’t say she liked humans, but she had learned to like them a little more. All thanks to him.

“You were my very first friend.” She didn’t like to distinguish between acquaintances and friends. But if it were allowed, she would want to call him a friend.

The old man chuckled in a way that sounded like a cough. Or maybe his cough just sounded like a chuckle. Nonō couldn’t tell the difference.

Lifting his coffee cup to his mouth, the old man asked, “Could I share a piece of advice with you, as a friend?”

“Of course. I am all ears.”

“You’re not like me. You’re young. Don’t fall for the trap of believing that a fake blue is real.”

“Blue?”

“The symbol of happiness.”

Blue. Happiness. Fake and real.

“How can I tell the difference between the real and fake blue?” Nonō asked. “Do I put everything that seems to be happiness into Box A, then move them into Box B?”

The old man shook his head. “Just be with someone. That’s all. Happiness is the person smiling beside you.”

They didn’t at all sound like the words of someone who sat alone in his study, endlessly writing the absolute truth.

But that was okay. If anything, it only served to convince her that he was right.

The words that he had no right to say were the ones that sounded the most earnest. He chose to say them, despite how it might hurt him.

Nonō smiled. “There is no need to worry. In fact, I would consider the two that I came here with to be friends.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“And, of course, you are my friend as well.”

“I’m no good for something like that. I hardly spend any time awake in reality any more. I doubt I could even talk. I can’t find any meaning in life other than clinging to this world,” the old man said.

Nonō tried to think of the right words to say. The right response to give him.

But she couldn’t find any. Before she thought of anything, her thoughts were interrupted by a sound. Someone was knocking on a window.

She turned around, finding two men and two women standing outside the window behind her. One of the men had knocked.

“I am a representative of the Administration Bureau. Could you come open the front door for me?” he asked.

✽

Asai Kei reshelved a college-lined notebook with the words “No. 853” scrawled across the cover.

The study was quite bare. There were two large bookshelves with glass doors, a wooden desk, and a well-cushioned leather chair. A closet in the wall was lined with several cardboard boxes, each filled with more college-lined notebooks alongside nibs and ink for fountain pens.

There was the bookshelf, the desk, and the closet. There wasn’t really anywhere else to search outside of those three places. Kei didn’t even know where else to begin looking for a notebook with “No. 407” on it.

The “No. 853” they found was the lowest number they saw on hand. Given how neatly the bookshelf was arranged, Kei doubted they’d find 407 randomly mixed in with other numbers.

“It is not here,” said Haruki Misora. She had also been helping him look for the elusive No. 407.

“I don’t think we’ll find any books from 852 or below here,” Kei remarked. He figured it would be better to just go ask the old man where to find it. Better than wandering around someone else’s house alone.

Haruki flipped through a random notebook, asking, “What exactly is the Script?”

“The old man called it the truth.”

The inescapable, complete reality. The truth.

Is this even real? Can this ability actually exist?

Kei had spent several minutes flipping through some of the notebooks. Most of the contents described past events. Other parts contained strictly objective information, such as mathematical formulas and physical methodologies. Kei didn’t recognize some of the formulas, and for all he knew, the books may have contained formulas yet undiscovered by man. But that wasn’t what he took issue with.

Transcribing the Script. The old man’s ability. Some of his written truth contained future events. That was Kei’s issue.

Kei had met two individuals with the power to see into the future, the Witch and Souma Sumire. If he wanted to, he could generously classify Haruki’s Reset ability as a pseudo-future sight.

All of those abilities shared a common rule: when someone knew the future, they could change the future.

The simple act of changing the future wasn’t even difficult. If he saw a future where he turned right at an intersection, he could instead turn left, and poof, the future was changed.

But that’s not what this Script is claiming.

If someone learned about a catastrophic event set for the other side of the world in five minutes, how could they possibly stop it? Conversely, if they learned about a particular baby that would be born in 100 years, why would they care to change that?

A future that could be changed could not be called the truth.

It couldn’t be referred to as the inescapable, complete reality.

This ability doesn’t serve the purpose of future sight.

The only future that the book would describe would be futures that could not be changed. Anything that the reader might have the power to change, or even want to change in the first place, simply wouldn’t be written. But, despite the meaningless nature of what one might learn, the ability proved something.

A real, unavoidable future exists.

Another way to think of it was that the future of the world was predetermined.

A one-way past, and a one-way future. A line of thought that denied the very definition of possibility. A mode of thought referred to as determinism. That was the Script.

“Shall we return to the living room?”

Just as Kei was prepared to nod in response to Haruki’s request, the door to the study opened.

At first, Kei figured Nonō or the old man had come to check on them. But he was woefully mistaken.

Standing before them was a man who appeared to be roughly in his thirties. A gentle smile was plastered on his face. “Oh my. We’ve been beaten to the punch,” he said, sounding as though he were holding back laughter.

I wasn’t expecting this. Kei knew the man. They had met twice before.

Holding back his inner commotion, Kei smiled. “It’s been quite some time. You’re here for the Administration Bureau, I assume.”

“You…” The man with the fake smile tapped his temple lightly using the middle finger of his right hand. Then he nodded with apparent happiness. “Ah, I know you. Of course, you’re Asai-kun.” The man entered the study, his footsteps thudding.

Three more representatives of the Bureau filed in behind him. Kei knew them all. Ukawa Sasane, The Index, and– well, he didn’t know the last one’s name. But it was the Bureau suit that had led Kei and Haruki to where the Witch resided.

“So, you’ve made it all the way here,” The Index commented. A slight frown pulled down her face.

The continually smiling man raised his index finger before Kei, wagging it dramatically. “Now, Asai-kun. I have such unfortunate news to give you.”

“I think I’d rather not hear it.”

“Oh, but you must. You see, this study is off-limits to the general public.”

Kei had expected as much. It wouldn’t do to allow the Script to be so easily viewed. Having Tyltyl gatekeep access to the mansion only made sense.

“I made previous arrangements to come here, so access was rather time sensitive. What a spectacular coincidence that you should also slip in during that time period.”

Previous events were beginning to make more sense. Now Kei knew why their access was gated from 3 PM to sunset.

Careful to keep his expression as still as possible, Kei asked, “There are only Scripts greater than No. 852 in here. Did the Administration Bureau collect the rest?”

“Is that something that you should know?”

“No. If my question was inconvenient, feel free to pretend I never asked.”

The man smiled cheerfully. “It’s not inconvenient in the slightest. At least, to me. I’m not sure how high the number goes, but any volumes written in the real world are kept by the Bureau. Anything in here was written only after entering the dream world.”

So that was that. No. 407 had never been in the house to begin with.

But then what was Souma’s plan, exactly?

Perhaps it was just to prove that the Script was something that really existed? Or maybe to get Kei to run into the man who stood smiling before him?

But if either of those were the case, then she wouldn’t need to specify No. 407. Was she really suggesting that he steal the Bureau’s copy of that volume?

It’s a definite possibility, Kei thought.

Then, he had an idea.

Stealing documents from the Administration Bureau would be nearly impossible in reality. Or at least, not something that could just be done on a whim from some girl’s message.

But the Administration Bureau wasn’t an absolute entity in the world of the dream. Not to mention Kei had contact with the dream world’s god. If the world was truly a one-to-one reproduction of reality, then the collected No. 407 could very well be a part of it.

Looks like I need to meet up with Tyltyl. No doubt a god could manage to steal a single book if he wanted to.

With that decided, Kei smiled. “Understood. As access here is prohibited, I will be taking my leave.”

“That makes things easy. Sorry to have to kick you out.”

“No, on the contrary, I shouldn’t have entered without permission.”

“Oh, no. If anything, this was an error on our part. I’m sure things will turn out just fine.” The man smiled again.

Excusing himself politely, Kei headed towards the door. His eyes met Ukawa Sasane’s, and he made do with a smile.

As he put his hand on the doorknob–

“Oh, my, of course, of course,” the ever-smiling man interrupted.

Kei stopped, put another smile on his face, and turned around. “What is it?”

It was like some dramatic scene from a detective show. The genius detective was stopping the criminal in his tracks just before he managed to slip away.

“Asai-kun, you were given the job of investigating the differences between the real world and the dream world, am I right?”

Kei nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”

“Then what on Earth could you be doing here? What could possibly have brought you to a place like this?”

“I came here to escort a friend, the girl you may have met in the living room.” Kei was grateful that he didn’t have to lie.

The man nodded. “I see. Well, I suppose that’s irrelevant anyway. Just one more thing.”

The cold thought that he would be asked about Souma Sumire washed over him, but he was wrong.

“Does the existence of the Script make you feel hopeless?” the man asked.

With a deliberately bitter smile, Kei answered, “I’m not sure. If I had to say, I’m just shocked.”

He finally managed to open the door, slipping into the corridor.

✽

Asai Kei and Haruki Misora.

The Index frowned as she repeated the names of the pair who had just left the room in her mind.

My goodness. Just what was he doing here?

Of course, she was aware of why he was in the dream world. She was the one who had granted him permission to go, after all. She had gotten a bad feeling while they were on their way to check the Script transcriptions, but hadn’t thought it would be that spot-on.

“Did Asai-kun tell any lies?” the ever-smiling man, Urachi Masamune, asked.

The Index’s ability allowed her to distinguish emotional states as colors. Every word that others spoke would be shaded in various tones.

In The Index’s eyes, lies were red. A standout, dangerous color. It was almost harder not to see those words.

She answered, “Only his last sentence was a lie.”

“His last sentence.”

If I had to say, I’m just shocked. That was his only lie.

“He had already accepted the reality of the Script,” The Index concluded.

“Oh, I see.”

The Index brought up something that had caught her interest. “You did well to remember his name.”

Urachi Masamune had a bad memory. Or at least, that was a favorite lie of his. He never forgot the important things. He simply didn’t bother to memorize anything he found to be unimportant.

Which implied that he had regarded Asai Kei’s name as something worth remembering.

“Just a coincidence. The girl, er, whats-her-name. Asai-kun’s kouhai.”

“You mean Oka Eri.”

“Yes. I had to look up all sorts of information about Asai-kun for her, so the name just happened to stick.”

But I was the one who had to look up all that information. Not to mention, it was entirely hypocritical that he should remember Asai Kei’s name while forgetting Oka Eri’s. She thought to point that out, but doubted anything would come of it.

Instead, she opted for a more direct approach. “It seems to me you have been interested in him for quite a while, Urachi-san.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s quite interesting.”

“What exactly about him is interesting?”

“All sorts of things. The little fight he put up two years ago, then his involvement with the Witch last month. How could anyone who knew about that resist?”

The Index forced down her sigh. “The very fact that he was here is a problem.”

“Well, anybody being here is a problem, technically.” Urachi’s gaze turned to Ukawa Sasane. “Speaking of which, you shouldn’t be here either. Off-limits to the general public.”

Ukawa Sasane was not an official Bureau member. She was just an accomplice.

“Hm, makes sense.” Without a hint of hesitation, Ukawa spun around. She didn’t seem to have any interest in the Script. She left, closing the door after her.

The Bureau member with them who had remained silent this whole time, Kagaya, touched the door with his right hand. Anything he touched with his right hand would be unchangeable until he touched it with his left.

The Index spoke up. “Asai Kei specifically being in here is more of a problem than anyone else being here. We can’t rid his head of the information.”

The Bureau couldn’t allow any of the information in the Script to leak into the public.

No, it’s not the writings in the Script that are the problem.

The Script’s very existence was the problem. The world could not be allowed to know about the reality of a predetermined future.

Urachi laughed joyfully. “Oh, it’s not that bad. If we stick a knife in his heart, he won’t let any information out ever again.”

“You really think you can get away with that?”

“I’m only joking. Besides, you know as well as I do that the Bureau can get away with anything.”

In a sense, he was actually right.

There was no institution in Sakurada that oversaw the Administration Bureau. And if there wasn’t one in Sakurada, there wasn’t one in the whole world.

The only judge of the Administration Bureau was the Administration Bureau. The Bureau itself was split into several departments, the two major sectors being located in the police department and city hall. The rest would rent office spaces as needed.

There was no clear hierarchy within those departments. Actually, it’s better to say that clearly, there’s no hierarchy. There were no headquarters or main divisions, and each department operated independently while monitoring the other departments.

At least, that was how it worked on paper.

In the Bureau’s eyes, secrecy was a more valuable asset than transparency. It was impossible to truly know what other departments were up to. Several departments didn’t even know what their own departments were up to. All cogs, each spinning in place while unaware of their greater purpose.

The only people who could possibly have a grasp on the true structure of the Bureau would have been the three founders. The three who conceived the very Bureau itself and programmed its systems, so to speak. But they weren’t around any more, not in any way interactable way. The last accessible founder, the Witch, had disappeared just the previous month.

As they say, where there’s a will, there’s a way. If the Administration Bureau wanted to keep a secret, they could hide almost anything. Concealing the whereabouts of a single high schooler sounded like a rather easy task, from that perspective.

But that was a discussion The Index was absolutely not interested in. Any town where that was on a civil servant’s mind was a truly warped place, as far as she was concerned. The only problem a civil servant should be concerned with was how to avoid overtime. That was what she had thought back in her college years.

I became a civil servant so I could find some stability. How did it come to this, hatching plots like some sort of secret evil organization?

Something told her it would be wrong to try and ignore or rid herself of that worry. The human inside of her wanted it to stay.

 “I’m guessing that Asai-kun has someone leading him from behind,” Urachi Masamune posited.

“You mean to say that Asai Kei is taking orders?”

“Mhm. Best I can tell. He didn’t know anything about the Script transcription when he asked for permission to come to this world, right?”

“No. I’m absolutely certain he didn’t.”

“Him ending up here can’t be by chance. He came here on somebody’s orders, not even knowing exactly where he was headed. That’s only getting more and more likely.”

Could that really be? Why would Asai Kei blindly follow somebody else’s orders?

“Who would be the one giving him orders?”

“As if I could know. There’s all too many possibilities, the least of which being the Nameless System gave him a set of orders with her future sight before leaving. No point in that guessing game right now.”

He pulled out a random volume of the Script from the bookshelf, flipping through the pages with his elbow on the desk as he continued, “We need real information. We need to question him.”

“Question him?”

Urachi chuckled. “Well, we have the right to call him out. He was in this room, after all, and that’s a problem. So we need to hear him out and document everything. We’ll set it all up, nice and official, plenty of documentation. And you’re going to question him. Make sure you dig deep.”

Everything was beginning to make sense. “Was this why you called Asai Kei to this world?”

Glancing over the notebook in his hands with boredom, Urachi said, “One reason among many. For one, I want to know what his goal is. If he made it all the way to the Script, then I expect someone is giving him instruction. But we need to hear that from him. It’s rather convenient that I happened to run into him here. Gives the perfect excuse to call him in later.”

Nobody could lie to the Bureau– or at least, not the The Index. If Asai Kei truly did have somebody leading him, they could sniff it out quickly. But, then…

“If that was the plan, could we not have simply called him out for his involvement with the Nameless System?” That could have saved them a load of trouble.

“That’s too big an incident. Not to mention handled by a different department. It’d slip out of my control before long. But taking a peek at the Script, that’s something we can handle.”

Urachi closed the notebook in his hands. Had he really already gone through that whole volume? It looked more like he had just flipped through it randomly while talking.

He put that notebook back on the shelf, took out a new one, and continued. “I called him to the dream world for many reasons. The more problems for the Bureau, the better. Besides, I’d rather this dream world be eliminated, if at all possible. But most importantly, Asai-kun. He needs to become the Bureau’s problem.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because he’s an obstacle. That ability of his is nothing but an obstacle. It may not be powerful, but it’s still an eyesore, so I wanna wipe it off the slate. Being interesting has its positives as well as its negatives, you know,” Urachi Masamune declared.

✽

“Ukawa Sasane,” Nonō Seika repeated.

Kei had returned to the living room with Haruki, and was describing the four Bureau members that had visited the house.

“Ukawa-san is in her first year of college. She’s a chocoholic champion of justice, and she has an ability that could destroy the world.”

Or, as she herself, put it, the ability to correct the world.

Nonō knit her eyebrows. “Destroy… the world?”

“Well, that would be one way of using it. It has other applications.”

“How would she destroy it?”

“However she wanted. She could probably split the planet in two if she felt like it.”

In all fairness, he hadn’t actually seen her do such a thing. But, she claimed it was possible, so there was no reason not to take her at her word.

“She has the ability to reshape matter to her liking,” Kei explained. “It doesn’t work on anything organic, but other than that, she has free reign. She can change something’s shape, erase it, even create from nothing.”

“Could she even alter the stars?”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Her ability had no size limitations.

Biting into a cookie, Nonō asked, “Isn’t that ability just a little too dangerous?”

“I don’t know. But at least she doesn’t want humanity to perish.”

Kei’s first meeting with Ukawa had been when she was trying to build a railing to keep people safe from falling.

She was a good person at heart. She never caused any trouble for people. She used her ability to make candy for crying children, or to get balls unstuck from really high trees, and other such acts.

Of course, her ability didn’t work on the tree itself. She had zero influence over anything organic. Generally, her solution was to shrink the ball until it dropped down, then put it back to normal size.

Ukawa Sasane’s ability was incredibly powerful, but as far as Kei was concerned, Haruki Misora’s Reset and Murase Youka’s power of erasure were far more valuable.

Ukawa’s power wouldn’t have been able to bring back Souma Sumire. Maybe she could have extracted the Witch from her building, but that would have likely only brought about bigger problems. She probably couldn’t have rescued a cat from a traffic accident.

Being able to make a huge impact wasn’t what made an ability strong. It was about accomplishing what was necessary, and not overstepping that necessity. There were situations where the ability to project a voice was more helpful than anything else.

But Ukawa probably knew that, and so her ability was used to build railings and make candy.

“Ukawa-san’s ability has its conveniences, but in most cases, you can get things done without any abilities if you’re willing to spend the time on it. As long as you’re not trying to do something reckless, like destroying the world.”

Of course, there wasn’t much point in destroying the world. It certainly wouldn’t make anyone happy.

After his explanation, Kei added the mental addendum, Of course, that only counts in normal situations.

Their problem was that as things stood, Ukawa could very well have been on the path to destroying the world.

Not the real one, of course. Kei doubted that she would destroy that. But, if she made up her mind that she wanted to, she very well could grind the dream world down to dust. It was difficult to determine who might be more powerful in the dream world, Ukawa or Tyltyl.

Kei reached out for a cookie from the table.

Just then, there was the sound of a door opening. Ukawa Sasane was standing in the living room.

“What happened?” Kei asked.

“Got kicked out. I’m not an official Bureau employee either.”

Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. Even an accomplice seeing the Script would still pose issues.

Kei handed over the cookie he had just picked up. “Do you want one?”

“A cookie?”

“It’s got chocolate in the center.”

“Mm. In that case, sure.” As usual, Ukawa Sasane placed chocolate above all else.

Kei stood up from the sofa, handing over the cookie.

Ukawa gleefully tore into the packaging. “By the way, Asai. We need to talk, alone,” she said, biting into her cookie.