Chapter 1 – A Certain Conclusion

1 – October 22nd (Sunday) – 1 PM

The hallway, which had been starkly impersonal in decor only a few days prior, was lined with all forms of colorful, lively posters.

Multitudes came and went. A male student held up a cardboard sign, and a young woman bit into a hot dog. A group of three girls, likely middle schoolers, had their noses stuck in various pamphlets. A young man with an armband labeling him as part of the student council peered into a classroom with a coffee shop sign hanging above it, smiling all the way.

Voices of all kinds echoed up and down the hall, revealing short snippets from several conversations.

“Where should we go?”

“Welcome!”

“A haunted house?”

“I wanna eat crepes!”

Everything felt so lively and fun that Asai Kei couldn’t help but smile.

It was Sunday, October 23rd. The day of the school festival.

Kei’s class was scheduled to put on a play. They had both a morning and afternoon performance, each taking roughly 30 minutes. They had already finished their morning performance, and it was just after 1 PM. Their second performance was scheduled for 2:30, and Kei needed to be in the room at least 15 minutes before showtime. That gave him about an hour to wander around the festival at his own leisure.

Kei chucked the stick left over from his chocolate-dipped banana into the garbage– a handmade box labeled “Burnable Trash”– and walked down the hall. Down the breezeway to another school building, he saw the back of a student he recognized. She was a female with shoulder-length hair. Despite being a year older, she was dealing with circumstances that put her into the same class year as Kei.

He quickened his steps to catch up to her, and when they were about three steps apart, he greeted her. “Hey there, Murase-san.”

The girl turned around, her eyes wide in shock. She gazed at him over the rim of her glasses before answering with a gruff, “Hello.” It was pretty typical for her to sound like she was in a bad mood, so he ignored the antagonism.

“Are you alone?”

“What’s it look like?”

“How about we go to the gym together, then?”

Her eyebrows pulled in slightly. “The gym?”

“The broadcasting club is hosting a concert with all kinds of bands playing.”

“You like that kinda stuff?”

“Eh, sorta. It’s mostly that I’ve got a friend in the broadcasting club, and he’ll be on stage.” In fact, Kei had been personally invited to watch.

Murase’s eyes widened in surprise. “You have friends?”

How rude. It would be fair to say he had less friends than normal, but still.

Kei stuck his chest out, trying to speak with grandeur. “In fact, I would even call him my best friend. We’ve known each other since junior high.”

She mumbled, “Best friend…” as if trying to digest the phrase. “Your jokes are hard to understand.”

What about any of that was supposed to be a joke?

After reiterating the truth of the claim, he once again asked, “So, wanna go to the gym to watch my best friend?”

“Well, alright, but…” She shifted around as if trying to look behind Kei. “What about Haruki?”

“She’s back in the classroom, going over the script.” Haruki Misora played the lead role in their play, with Kei performing as her love interest.

“You’re okay with that?”

“It’s not really that simple. But hey, I definitely won’t forget my lines.”

Kei had the special ability to remember the past perfectly. Not that memory was all it took to have good acting chops, but his role in the play was as a young man who lost his emotions due to a previous incident. All he really needed to do was say his lines in monotone, which he was comfortable enough with.

But Murase’s head shook lightly. “That’s not what I mean. You’re fine just leaving Haruki alone?”

It was a difficult question. He mulled it over, but the best he could do was repeat the same phrase.

“It’s not really that simple.”

He had been more than willing to practice his lines with Haruki, but she had kicked him out of the room, saying something about wanting to practice the script on her own.

They had already gone through their first run of the play that morning. Overall, the performance was quite good, at least, as far as class-run plays at school festivals went. But their execution of the script was probably far from what the writer, Minami Mirai, had in mind.

The synopsis went a little something like this:

In the near future, people are capable of connecting their consciousness to an electronic network, allowing them to transmit information directly to and from their brains.

The network was used for all sources of work, entertainment, and communication. Expressing sadness became possible without shedding tears, and love could be shown without waxing poetic. Just connect to the network, and there it was.

But one day, an error appeared from within the network. Emotions began to run amok without anything to limit or block them, leading everyone to panic. A particular systems engineer for the network, Kei’s role, plugged in to try and fix the error. He succeeded, but not without injury; the man lost all of his emotions due to overexerting himself. Or at least, as far as anyone around him could see, he showed nothing.

But Haruki played the singular exception. She believed that her beloved still held deep, profound affections somewhere inside.

The story required the woman, which was to say Haruki Misora, to end things off with a natural smile. Upon seeing her smile, Kei would finally be able to smile, too. Draw the curtains, roll the credits.

But in the morning performance… Haruki couldn’t smile.

She quirked up the corners of her mouth, but it wasn’t anything like a smile. Kei was the closest to view her expression. Then, the lights shut off, ending the morning performance.

That wasn’t to say the story fell apart. It was supposed to be a happy ending, but instead received a dash of tragedy. Perhaps that could be acceptable to a particular audience. In fact, some might argue it was even more meaningful without a forced happy end. But of course, it wasn’t the ending Minami Mirai had envisioned. And now Haruki had definitive proof that she couldn’t smile.

Their next performance was in just over an hour.

Would Haruki be able to smile the next time?

“She’s dealing with a very personal problem. There’s not much I can do for her,” Kei told Murase.

But that was just a lie, told to protect himself. A pretty lame one, too.

✽

At that very moment, Haruki Misora was peering into a hand mirror that she had borrowed from a classmate. She was doing her very best to smile.

But the expression shown to her in the mirror wasn’t even an approximation of a smile. It looked more like a person gritting their teeth as they lifted up a very heavy object.

She silently mumbled, Turn up your mouth, lower your eyes.

That was the method for a textbook smile. But she couldn’t make it work.

She hadn’t thought it would be so difficult just to smile. She had been more than capable of naturally smiling not too long ago. But she suddenly found herself unable to exert any control over her face.

A few people were still left in the classroom. A boy sat all the way in the back on a laptop, running all the sound for the play. His computer connected to two large speakers on each side of the stage.

There were two other female students taping cardboard boxes over all the windows. The room was meant to be dark during the performance, so any light leakage was inconvenient. They had worked on all the windows the previous day, but were evidently dissatisfied about the back end of the room during the initial performance, so they labored away to carefully retape everything.

That covered everyone in the classroom. Asai Kei was nowhere to be found. But of course he wasn’t. She had told him herself that she wanted to practice alone.

Haruki looked back into the hand mirror.

She repeated her finishing line, attempting another smile.

But of course, it didn’t work. It wasn’t even close to a smile.

As her thoughts swirled around, two hands appeared in the mirror, pulling the corners of her mouth upwards.

“It’s supposed to be more like this.”

Haruki moved the hand mirror around to see who the offender was. One of the girls who had just been taping up cardboard had snuck up on her– Minami Mirai.

Speaking right next to Haruki’s ear, the other girl asked, “You’re alone, Misora? Where’s Asai-kun?”

“Kei went to the gym.” At least, that was her intended answer, but with her mouth being held as it was, she had a hard time articulating.

Nonetheless, Minami seemed to catch her drift. “Oh. I guess it is about time for Nakano-kun to get onstage.”

Haruki nodded.

At that, Minami removed her hands from Haruki’s mouth, instead placing them on her hips, making a reproachful face. “And why aren’t you going with him?”

“Because I must practice for our play.”

“There are more important things than that.”

Haruki hadn’t expected to hear Minami Mirai call her play “that”. She was essentially the leader of the whole project, having written the script and being the one giving stage directions.

“And what exactly would be more important?” Haruki asked.

Minami furrowed her eyebrows, her expression appearing as though she were thinking deeply. “Well, you should know that better than I, Misora.” Minami Mirai sat down next to Haruki. They were both in chairs intended for the audience, so they spoke facing the stage. “Ahh, c’mon. I even conspired with Nakano-kun to make all these plans and everything…”

“You… conspired?”

“You were supposed to go to the concert with Asai-kun.”

“I was never informed of that.” It would be awfully difficult for her to take part in a plan she wasn’t told about.

“But if Asai-kun was going, we figured you’d be going with him, Misora.” Minami Mirai slumped her shoulders exaggeratedly. Every action she took always had some sort of exaggeration to it.

“Would it be best for me to pursue Kei, then?”

“Nah. If he’s already going, then it’s whatever. Besides, I thought I’d take the opportunity to talk with you.” Minami aggressively turned towards Haruki, making her hair bounce on either side of her head. “Did you and Asai-kun get into a fight, Misora?”

A fight? “No, we did not.”

“Oh.” Minami tilted her head. “But, it’s like… As far as I can tell, you’ve been avoiding Asai-kun.”

Haruki nodded. “Yes. I have been avoiding him.” If that was what she saw, then it likely wasn’t wrong.

Minami’s eyebrows shot up, and she leaned in. “But why?”

The conversation turned to a difficult question. Haruki knew her actions had a lot of complex motivators, and in all honesty, she wasn’t even entirely certain of the whole picture.

But I do know that I can’t smile when he’s around.

It started around a month ago, right when practice for the play began. She had lost her capability of smiling. She wasn’t even sure why. It was as though the component inside of her necessary for smiling had broken down.

But it needed to be repaired. She was running out of time.

Haruki answered with a sigh, “I suppose the short answer is that I feel guilty.”

The answer had been more or less on reflex, but it actually seemed to fit. She felt guilty.

There was something that Asai Kei deserved an apology for.

✽

All the windows in the gymnasium were covered with blackout curtains. The entire audience was shrouded in darkness, a spotlight providing the only illumination in the room. Metal folding chairs were lined up in front of the stage, with about 60 percent of them already taken up.

Pointing in front of them, Asai Kei asked, “Wanna take a seat?”

“No, I’m fine. In fact, let’s be as far from the stage as possible.” Murase began walking to the wall opposite of the stage. Kei followed behind her, knowing he would have done the exact same thing if she hadn’t been there with him. The speakers mixed in with the other sounds in the room to blast out noise so loud that he didn’t want to be close to the stage if he could help it.

The two of them leaned up against the wall together.

A group of four boys played instruments up on the stage. There were two electric guitarists, one bassist, and a drummer, with one of the guitarists also leading vocals.

Murase frowned beside Kei. “Now that’s an old song.”

“Is it?”

“At least 15 years old. I don’t remember what it’s called, but the album jacket had a crumbling Statue of Liberty pictured on front.”

“So you know a lot about rock?”

“Not on purpose. We had a lot of it around the house, so I’d hear it now and then.”

Oh, it was probably her brother’s, Kei realized, immediately stopping his questions. Murase’s brother had passed away in an accident the previous year. “Well, I’ll have to give it a listen sometime.”

“It’s not really all that good or anything,” Murase commented, sounding bored.

Kei blankly stared at the stage.

The sound blasting from the front of the room only seemed to grow louder and louder, stirring up the room. He really wasn’t a fan of loud sounds, and generally kept away from places that had them in abundance, like arcades or karaoke. But for the moment, letting the concussive volume numb his brain felt nice.

He thought of the girl sitting in class, reading through her script.

It’s just not enough yet.

He felt a sort of voracious, unending hunger. As if he never got enough sleep. Or as if he didn’t have enough happiness in his life. There just wasn’t enough. Something was missing. He couldn’t reach the ideal state. He had felt that way for so long.

But is there really anything missing at this point? And even if there was, was that really reason enough not to take the next step?

Cymbals crashed on the drum set, and the tempo of the song quickened. Sound popped through the air. Kei didn’t know if it was intentional, or just an error on the player’s part.

Kei looked up into the rows of spotlights shining down, closing his eyes.

He thought of her, in the same way that he would remember the past.

Haruki Misora. She truly had come to know all sorts of new emotions.

He ruminated on what Souma Sumire had said.

She wished for a connection with you of the kind that you had been hoping for two years ago, one closer to a girl’s typical romantic affection.

That was what your reset took away.

He was sure such a thing had happened countless times in the past. Haruki Misora had been a sacrifice on the altar of Kei’s selfishness over and over.

So how could he dare say that it still wasn’t enough?

Looking at things objectively, Kei finally had everything he had been hoping for two years prior. Not a thing was out of place.

So, if something’s still missing…

It must be me.

It had nothing to do with Haruki Misora. The fault lay with Asai Kei.

From the fake, but consistent happiness he chose. From the peaceful, yet cruel bond he kept between the two of them. And from his memories of two years past. Kei was the one who actually couldn’t escape.

She’s the one moving forward, and I’m just staying in place. No wonder nothing can happen.

That had to be the reason that Haruki couldn’t smile. Nothing else was missing.

All the sound around him stopped.

Evidently the performance had ended. With it, Kei was brought back to reality. He dropped some scattered applause with the crowd.

“What an old song,” Murase repeated.

The four-member band announced that their class was selling takoyaki, requesting the audience to go pick some up before leaving the stage.

The next band made their way up and began setting up instruments. There were three of them, all first-years that Kei was familiar with. They were his classmates.

Kei pointed up to the stage. “That one in the middle is my friend.”

Nakano Tomoki. He was capable of playing the guitar and drums, but was currently tasked with the bass. He stood in front of the microphone stand, clad in his school uniform. He looked a bit nervous.

“I find that hard to believe,” Murase replied.

Well, he couldn’t control how much she chose to believe him.

The emcee announced their band name, Moon Puppy. Tomoki had always liked their name. As the boy stood in front of the mic, he glanced around the crowd, eventually looking straight at Kei. He flashed a shy smile. Then, once he raised his hand, the drummer smacked his sticks together. Three clacks echoed, then vanished.

The air trembled.

Then a pure, dry gust of sound shot through Kei’s body, soaring through the room. It was clean and pure, and as it struck him, his heart shook.

Going through the first four bars, he recognized the song. He’d listened to it alongside Tomoki in the past. It was a love song, straightforward and foolishly unabashed in its lyrics.

The boy atop the stage smiled. He sang the English lyrics with pronunciation that made it easy to understand for his Japanese audience.

You’re always at the center, he shouted with a smile. I can watch the sea, or even the sunset, but you stay in the center. When you cry, it’s as if the whole universe cries with you. Such was the meaning behind the lyrics he sang.

So I’ll shout my love, Tomoki shouted. Nothing else could ever matter. I can only hope for your smile. So I’ll shout my love with that prayer in my heart, ‘cause that’s all that I care about.

Kei felt like he met the shouting boy’s eyes at some point.

The song didn’t get any more complex than that. The rhythm and lyrics were nothing but a beautiful, straight line in one direction.

Kei found himself thinking once more about the girl sitting in class, reading through her script.

I can only hope for your smile, Tomoki shouted. So I’ll keep shouting my love.

“This is such a ridiculous song,” Murase muttered.

“That’s what makes it so good,” Kei responded.

There stood Tomoki onstage, illuminated by all the lights in the gym. The lights were cheap, easily converted into monetary value based on electricity costs and rental fees. But, for just that moment, he looked divine in that light. It almost didn’t even feel like an exaggeration to think so.

At the end of the first song, Nakano Tomoki took a deep breath, and started speaking.

“I first heard this song on the radio during my second year of junior high. At the time, my friend was explaining the theory of relativity to me.”

Of course, Kei remembered the scene well. That was exactly what happened, him explaining relativity while the radio shouted about love.

“I’m not really smart, so I don’t get relativity and all that stuff. But what I remember of it is, there’s so much love in the world that the rules can get bent just to keep it in place.”

That was wrong. Kei specifically had used the word trust to define the theory of relativity.

Perhaps Tomoki had replaced it with love for a particular reason? Of course, it could have been a slip of the mind, or done just to match the theme of the song.

Kei doubted he was trying to send some multi-layered message, but even if it was just coincidence, he couldn’t help but feel there was something more there.

So there was just one question. Was it love, or was it trust?

Trust alone wouldn’t be enough for love. Something would still be missing.

“We’ve got four songs on the list for today. That was the first, so there’s three more. Let’s do it!” Then, with a calm chuckle, he added, “Hi-ho.”

The second performance began.

When the second song played, Kei was starting to get a grip on what was happening. By the third song, he was completely convinced.

Tomoki was playing the songs they had listened to on the radio that day, all in order.

And of course, Kei remembered each of them. As such, he knew exactly what the last song would be.

The fourth song began without introduction.

Back when they had listened to it on the radio, it was a fully acoustic, quiet song. Being arranged for a band gave it a little more kick.

Think you made it obvious enough? Kei mumbled to himself.

The final song was about rainy days.

✽

Gotta start with the love song, and gotta end with the rainy days song, Nakano Tomoki thought.

The stage view of the audience was spectacular. Sure, the seats weren’t all filled, and the crowd wasn’t going absolutely wild from the music. But they were all looking in the same direction, while only three others were facing towards them. That was the best part.

When he was backstage, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. C’mon, what’s goin’ on? How am I supposed to hold the strings like this? he had wondered.

But once he got on stage, nothing else mattered. The people in the audience looked on with mild expectation. Hot spotlights bathed the stage.

We’re like heroes facing off against the Demon King’s army.

Their chosen legendary weapons were a bargain bin guitar, a used bass, and a drum set from some random supplier. They were almost too cool.

And there, facing them from the farthest opposite wall, was the final boss.

Asai Kei. Even during a concert, he looked on with his usual nonplussed expression. It was just so him that Tomoki couldn’t help but smile.

On the other hand, he didn’t know the girl standing beside him very well at all.

Shouldn’t it have been Haruki right there with you?

He had specifically prepared his four songs to take the two of them down. But, oh well. Kei was there, so he would have to make do.

Kei had to be the world’s dumbest smart guy, and he was always overthinking things, letting his intelligence get the better of him.

One time, back who knew when, he was explaining why one plus one equals two. So, why does 1+1=2? Evidently, it was due to some pretty complicated mathematical proofs.

Tomoki definitely didn’t catch most of it, and it was honestly quite annoying to listen to.

The key is in reductio ad absurdum, Kei had said.

Hi-ho, Nakano Tomoki had responded. Not for any particular reason.

It just didn’t matter.

Seriously, it was so unimportant. 1+1=2. Wasn’t it enough just to believe that? Trying to explain it and ask for proof only served to overcomplicate the matter.

That’s just the kind of guy you are.

Kei was always using his intelligence the wrong way.

Whenever he encountered the obvious, he would freeze in his tracks and stop moving forward. Just like how if he stopped believing in the ground, he wouldn’t be able to walk. It was the same deal.

But reality couldn’t be simpler. 1+1=2. Shout out your love, then the girl can smile, and when she smiles, the universe would be at peace.

Praying desperately, Nakano Tomoki put up his hand.

Two sticks clacked together in time, like a heartbeat. He pulled on his bass. The air trembled. It was like he was starting to pump blood into the atmosphere.

He had been practicing the song with every second of free time he could afford, so his hands knew what to do. Even his singing was automatic. He had never been very good at English, but he had made sure to look everything up in the dictionary. He knew what the song meant.

So he shouted about shouting out love.

Nothing else could ever matter. I can only hope for your smile. So I’ll shout my love with that prayer in my heart, ‘cause that’s all that I care about.

As he shouted, Tomoki intently watched Asai Kei from the depths of darkness.

At the same time, he used his ability.

It was just the ability to make his voice heard, and it was going one direction.

✽

The final song was about rainy days.

Just singing quietly about an ordinary, rainy day. Nothing more, nothing less.

Of course, Asai Kei remembered the song well.

It brought back all the memories from two years ago.

Of a rainy day at a bus stop, seeing Souma Sumire off. Then afterwards, when Souma Sumire died. Nakano Tomoki was the only one who knew about that.

Tomoki sang as if he were talking about any other leisurely, rainy day.

But then, another echo of the boy’s voice played in his head.

So I’ll shout my love.

The first song’s refrain. His shouting voice from ten minutes prior echoed in Kei’s head. He was using his ability.

Nothing else could ever matter. I can only hope for your smile. So I’ll shout my love with that prayer in my heart, ‘cause that’s all that I care about.

For just a moment, his shouts were drowning out the song about a rainy day.

Kei couldn’t force down his smile, and he mumbled, “Shut up.”

Murase looked his way. “You say somethin’?

Kei continued to watch the stage. “Y’know, at the end of the day, I can’t help but admire him. So it really ticks me off whenever he tries to act all cool.”

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

“I’m basically saying I’m jealous.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be smiling while you say that.”

“If I said it with a straight face, Tomoki’d just get a big head.”

Kei didn’t know any abilities more beautiful than Tomoki’s. And abilities were always deeply connected to their user’s heart.

Nakano Tomoki had a way of looking really cool sometimes. It was extremely frustrating.

Kei closed his eyes. The song about rainy days was still going on. He shouldn’t have been able to hear the song about shouting out love anymore, but it continued echoing within his head.

The song really isn’t anything special. That applied to the love song and the rainy day song, really.

Tomoki’s performance was good. His other bandmates weren’t too bad, either.

If it was a matter of sound quality, then he could spend a few bucks to get a song at a store that would sound much better than anything at a school festival. Professionals had their titles for a reason.

And honestly, the songs Nakano Tomoki picked weren’t particularly moving. They weren’t earth-shaking by any means.

It’s so dumb to think something like this could actually kick anything off.

Tomoki was always getting carried away. He’d start saying things like, “In ten years from now, we could even be–”

But there Kei was, thinking about the girl who was sitting in class and reading through her script. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. I can only hope for your smile, Tomoki’s voice echoed.

Kei opened his eyes, turning towards Murase. “I have a favor to ask. Could you hear me out?”

“What’s that?”

“I want to go onto the rooftop of the southern school building. This school doesn’t allow rooftop access, though.”

Murase frowned questioningly. “You mean you want me to open the lock?”

“Yes. Please.”

Murase’s ability allowed her to erase anything she touched. Then, after five minutes, whatever she erased would return to its original state. So she could erase the doorknob and lock, open the door, and wait five minutes, allowing her to easily unlock the door.

“Well, that doesn’t really bother me or anything, but… why?”

“A lot of stuff happened a long time ago, and the southern school rooftop is just a really special place.”

“You’re not really making sense.”

“I’m sorry, it’s really hard to explain.”

She frowned for a while, looking confused, then nodded. “Oh, fine. I can at least unlock a door.”

“Thank you so much.”

The song about rainy days came to an end.

“I need to go see my friend,” Kei said.

“If a teacher finds out, it was all you.”

“Of course.” Kei walked towards the side of the stage.

Tomoki was up on that stage, making an announcement about their class play.

“It’s a wonderful love story. The ending will move you. Make sure you come and see it!”

✽

Minami Mirai repeated Haruki Misora’s words. “You feel guilty?” She had a confused look on her face, but deep down, she understood.

Haruki Misora and Asai Kei had always had a strange relationship. One would think they were extremely close, but upon further inspection, there was an obvious wall between them. It was as though they were confused or hesitant, and neither of them ever dared breach the wall.

It only made sense that the wall’s true nature would be an expression of guilt.

Haruki Misora nodded mechanically. “The truth is… I do not think that I am suited for this play.”

Now, that wasn’t true at all.

The whole play had been written specifically for Haruki Misora. If she wasn’t the star actor, there wouldn’t be any point to it.

“Aww, why would you think that?” Minami prodded, trying to keep her tone light.

“There should have been an audition.”

“You mean for the whole class? Don’t worry ‘bout that. Not a single person had a problem with you taking the lead.”

Which was to say that nobody in the class wanted to play the lead role in a festival production. Really, they just wanted to try hard, have fun with their classmates, and sometimes stay after class, making the whole thing come together. The actual play itself wasn’t what most of the class was concerned with.

But Haruki Misora shook her head. “That is not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I am not the person most suited to play Kei’s love interest. There is another person who could do that much better than I. We should have been compared before choosing the actual role.”

Wait, there’s a third person getting in between Asai Kei and Haruki Misora? Really? “Who’s that?”

“You would not know her.”

“Wouldn’t know who?” she asked, her tone accidentally stronger than she intended.

“A girl that Kei was particularly close with in junior high.”

Minami Mirai put on a purposeful smile. Like it was simple. Like she was just the cheery classmate. “If she’s not in our class, then this play’s got nothing to do with her.”

“I suppose you are right. Now I am just rambling incoherently,” Haruki replied, smiling. But it was like an empty shell of a smile, only shown in complete resignation.

“There!” Minami pointed to Haruki’s mouth. “That’s a smile.”

Haruki peered into the hand mirror she was holding. “Is this really the expression we wanted?”

“Hm, I’d say it needs another two tablespoons or so of happiness.”

Haruki turned to face Minami, her expression already blank again. “I do not know how to measure happiness.”

Not even Minami knew how to do that. After a slight moment of hesitation, she asked, “Hey, think you could tell me some stuff about middle school?”

Haruki’s head tilted slightly. “I met Kei as a second-year in April, and we joined the Junior High Service Club in September of that same year.”

Minami had already heard that much from Nakano Tomoki, but the boy had refused to say anything more. He claimed it wasn’t his story to tell.

“What about the girl that Asai-kun was close to?”

“She was gone at the end of summer.”

“You mean she moved away?”

“No.” Haruki shook her head. “I mean that she was simply gone.”

What was that supposed to mean?

Before she could ask for any details, Haruki opened up her script. “Now then, I need to practice for the play. The other girl is not our classmate, so she has nothing to do with our play.”

Everything she said sounded like she was just reading a notice on the wall.

Don’t run in the hallway. Close the door quietly. The kind of instruction that everyone knew was right to follow, but never took seriously.

✽

After waiting beside the stage long enough, Nakano Tomoki eventually made his appearance. The guitarist and drummer who had been on stage with him followed shortly behind.

Kei waved to greet Tomoki. “Heya.”

“Yo!” Tomoki wiped his forehead and flashed a childish, innocent grin. “Was it a moving experience?”

“Eh, so-so. Your English pronunciation is pretty bad, you know.”

“Ah, who cares? It was for Japanese people anyway.”

That made sense. In its own special way.

“Do you have a moment?” Kei asked.

“Could that moment be over a plate of yakisoba? I’m starving here.”

“I’d rather you save that yakisoba for later. This won’t take much time, anyway.” There was only 45 minutes before the next performance of the play. Kei needed to be in class 15 minutes early, which only gave him 30 minutes to act. “I need you to help me make the play a moving experience.”

“Ah. Anything for our class.” Tomoki had a quick chat with the other band members before heading out.

The two of them headed towards the back side of the gymnasium building. The place was like a snowdrift where all the silence in the entire school piled up. It was like the school festival wasn’t even happening. The only noise was the faint sound leakage of the new band up on stage inside the gym.

Kei stopped in his tracks. As soon as he quit walking, his feet crunched on dead leaves. He felt the crackled remains under his soles. “I want you to send a message.”

Tomoki smiled in response. “To Haruki?”

“Her, too. But this is mainly about another message.” If it was all about Haruki, his cell phone would have worked, or he could have just walked to the classroom. He at least wouldn’t need Nakano Tomoki’s ability.

“Who, then?”

“Souma Sumire.”

“Souma?” Tomoki almost said something else, but bit it back. Probably because to talk about Souma Sumire was to talk about death. Tomoki didn’t know about Souma’s resurrection.

Kei smiled as gently as he could manage. “For all we know, your ability could even reach up to Heaven.”

Tomoki looked at him, his expression serious. “You worry about her too much.”

“That’s my problem, not yours.”

“But aren’t there living people who take priority here?”

“I have to do this for all of us who are alive.”

But was it necessary? Was it really?

Maybe not. It certainly wouldn’t cause any problems to skip out on what he was doing. In fact, doing without may have been the right call. It would have been right, not to mention kind.

But Kei continued, “Please, Tomoki. Just think of this like a ritual or something. Like how you exchange rings after swearing your eternal love before God.”

“Your love for who, exactly?”

“The living.”

Nakano Tomoki let out a deep breath. “Fine. I guess it’s okay, then. If you can shout out your love and make the girl smile, then the whole universe can be happy.”

“I think maybe you worry about us too much.”

“Oh, c’mon, you’re Asai Kei.” Tomoki turned up the corners of his mouth, flashing a daring smile. “You can’t afford any mistakes. Just make sure you wipe away her tears, okay?”

I sure hope I can, Kei thought.

Unfortunately, things never tended to work out that way. He would just have to start by making Haruki smile. “You remember Souma’s face, right?”

“‘Course I do.” Tomoki’s power required him to know the face of the person he was sending to. He pulled out his cell phone, checking the time. “Got a cool line ready?”

“Don’t really think I need one. I’m just gonna relay the facts.”

“Alrighty, then. Let’s do it.” Sucking in a breath, Tomoki smiled. Then he started speaking quickly.

Would Tomoki’s voice reach Souma?

The question was exactly what Souma had previously posed to herself.

Can you hear my voice?

The message that Souma Sumire had sent two years ago, directed to the self that would be pulled from a photo. A test of sorts, to discover if the resurrected Souma was actually the real Souma Sumire.

I believe that it did reach her.

So he would talk to her now with the same methods.

“Introducing our hero, Asai Kei!” Tomoki shouted with a flourish, smiling at Kei.

Kei opened his mouth.

✽

Yo, Souma. This is coming at you from October 22nd, at 1:43 PM, which would have been five minutes ago from your perspective.

Then again, is there even time in Heaven? Well, at least for Earth, it’s October 22nd, 1:43 PM. We’re already in our first year of high school, actually, so it’s October 22nd of our first year in high school.

Which is to say, two years after you fell into the river.

It’s really been a while, so I hope you’re doing okay.

I’d love to tell you what’s been going on in my life recently, but don’t really have the time for that now. You know, high school just might be the busiest time of a person’s life. Sure, in elementary and junior high, you have your own kind of busy schedules. Adults are busy in their own way, too.

But high school is a special kind of busy. There’s only three years for us here in Japan, unlike elementary school, and you deal with worries about the future that are so much closer than they were in junior high, not to mention the newer and more real affections you’re starting to feel. I mean, just look at today, the school festival. Maybe take a look down at Ashiharabashi High School from up there in the clouds. There’s all this hustle and bustle crammed into one tiny moment, all falling together into place.

It took us almost two months to prepare for today. Can you imagine the final result of two full months of compressed youth being released in one day? You can’t stop from being excited. I wouldn’t be surprised if all this excitement created its own cumulonimbus clouds.

Oh, I started rambling.

I’m not doing this to talk about the school festival.

It seems that Kei’s got something he wants to tell you. Hope you’re willing to hear him out.

So anyway, here goes.

Introducing our hero, Asai Kei!

Kei began speaking slowly, purposefully.

“I’m headed to the southern school building’s rooftop right now. I haven’t been up there for two years, one month, and twenty-two days. I’m going to see Haruki Misora.”

He was silent for a while.

But eventually, his voice returned in a whisper. “Souma… I’m going to put an end to that summer.”

✽

She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

She wanted to see Asai Kei, but also didn’t want to see Asai Kei.

She wanted so badly to see him, and wanted just as badly not to see him.

But that was a contradiction. Those black and white statements couldn’t fit together. They just swirled into a speckled mix that refused to turn gray.

Haruki Misora climbed the stairs.

Just a few minutes prior, his voice had sounded inside her head. At least, she thought so. It could have been seconds ago, or maybe even hours ago. Was it still echoing in her head, or was that just a hallucination?

He had asked her to come to the southern school building’s rooftop.

So there Haruki was, climbing the stairs. Was she going too fast, or maybe too slow? She wished the steps would go on forever. She wanted to see Asai Kei’s face as soon as possible. Another contradiction.

She passed by the upper floor, going even higher. The sounds of the school festival began to fade away. Not that she noticed. The only sounds she could register were her footsteps and her heartbeats.

She approached the landing where she and Kei always ate lunch together.

The rooftop landing of the stairs was used as a type of storeroom. There were wooden boxes with ore specimens, a celestial globe, and rolled-up construction paper strewn about. She shuffled through disorganized gaps of cardboard.

The stale air of the stairway was illuminated by light shining in front of her.

The door was open. She could see the rooftop through it. It brought the events of two years prior to mind, captured in her mind like a photograph. It was as though the scene of Asai Kei embracing Souma Sumire was still ongoing before her eyes. She could only pray that wasn’t the case.

She moved up the final step. The door was open.

Blue skies. A tall fence, with Asai Kei standing in front of it.

He was smiling, just like he always was. Light shone in as if sourced from him.

Her feet froze just one step from entering the rooftop. Haruki tried smiling. She didn’t need a hand mirror to know that it didn’t work.

“Come here,” he said.

Asai Kei was so unfair. Before she knew what was happening, she had started walking. Directly towards him.

When she reached the middle of the rooftop, Haruki asked, “How close should I get?”

“Much, much closer. Until you’re right in front of me.”

Clack, clack, her footsteps sounded.

Then, right in front of her, close enough to touch if she reached out, was Asai Kei.

Her chest hurt. Her guilt pressed down on her.

There was something that he deserved an apology for.

✽

Somehow, her face gave the impression that she was crying.

Like usual, she appeared constructed and emotionless at a glance. But something about her seemed sad.

You know, I’ll bet it’s because she’s looking down.

The eyes that had always been looking straight his way were now pointed down towards her feet. It gave her the visage of crying.

But it wouldn’t be worth pointing that out to her. Those weren’t the words that needed to be said.

Kei had spent his time prior to Haruki Misora’s appearance gazing up into the southern sky. As he looked upwards, he wondered what words he ought to say.

A hundred possibilities came to mind, and each and every one had its own problem.

His words felt misplaced, disorganized. Something wasn’t connecting. He just didn’t have the words to accurately describe his feelings.

Haruki Misora spoke first. “There is something that you deserve an apology for.”

Kei smiled as softly as he could. “Okay. What’s that?”

“It has to do with Souma Sumire.”

She raised her face, and her clear eyes sharply reflected his gaze. Her gaze was intense. Haruki Misora didn’t look away. She could have, but she didn’t.

“I am sorry…” she said. “I am sorry. I… Souma Sumire… I hate her.”

What difference did that make?

Anyone would find a person or two to hate just as a part of the process of being alive. It was only natural.

But she refused to let up her gaze, showing the depths of her worry. To think that just two years prior she couldn’t even see herself as special, and was so incapable of understanding or hiding her emotions.

But the fact that she was talking about it at all was so endearing. She felt so guilty, yet couldn’t bring herself to hide her feelings, and it was so beautiful.

Haruki Misora leaned forward, her voice pleading. “There were so many times that I wished for Souma Sumire not to be present. Or that we had never even taken her from the photograph. I regretted ever taking part in the plan to take her from the photo in the first place.” Her gaze was solely fixed on him. “I am so sorry, Kei. I am so very selfish. I was scared by the thought that Souma Sumire would remove the value of resetting.”

The Reset.

Their abilities had always defined them. Haruki Misora’s Reset, and Asai Kei’s perfect recall. They couldn’t accomplish much on their own.

But those abilities connected us.

 Like a lock and key, the two were practically made to be put together. Their abilities destined them to remain together.

And so, for the last two years, their being together had become natural. Even when they were apart, it was assumed they would eventually return to each other.

It was a convenient, twisted, and easygoing way to connect them.

And it was such a cruel connection.

But Kei was the one who had wanted that. Kei himself had sought a relationship defined by their abilities. So he nodded. “I know.”

He knew what resetting meant to Haruki Misora. He knew why Haruki Misora was scared of Souma Sumire.

Because after all, if future sight, an ability so much easier to use and take advantage of, existed in the same place as the Reset…

There’s no reason for us to seek the other out.

But… what was the problem with that?

What did it matter if they didn’t have a reason?

If they wanted to see the other, they could look for them. If they wanted to be together, then they could just be together.

He had known that for two full years.

But that knowledge never gave him the courage to say it.

Now, finally, I think I can say it, he thought. Maybe I can finally move the clock forward after freezing it in place for two years.

“Y’know, Haruki…” As soon as he tried to say something, he couldn’t find the words, just like every other time. I like you? A cheap phrase. I love you? Like something out of fiction. But perhaps he didn’t have any other option than to pile on the cheap, fictional phrases.

He said her name again, mostly to hide his embarrassment. “Haruki… Even if you didn’t have your ability… I would still want to see you. If you think something is beautiful, then I want to think the same. I want us to see the same sights, and have the same memories.”

Haruki’s expression remained downcast, igniting unease from within him. Am I not saying this right?

Of course, part of him knew he wouldn’t be able to say absolutely everything. He wouldn’t be able to convey all the complexity of his emotions. Misunderstandings would be born at some point. Even the purest words could be misconstrued as a lie.

But two years ago, Souma Sumire shared a thought.

Let’s imagine that the language you know and the words I speak are completely different.

Despite all that, I believe in my ability to communicate with you.

I may not know your language, and we may have misunderstandings. But even so, I believe that I could understand you, and you could understand me.

It all came down to his choice to believe.

In the same way that a baby who couldn’t speak had to believe its mother. Just like learning language, he had to have an innocent, pure belief.

He looked straight at Haruki Misora. “So, Haruki. Let’s have us a nice, long talk.”

They would talk, as accurately and honestly as possible, about everything that had happened, could happen in the future, and was happening right then.

Exchanging words was such a difficult affair, but…

I can only hope for your earnest smile.

With as much care as possible, he would tell her his only wish.

✽

2:15 PM. Nakano Tomoki stood in the hallway in front of his classroom.

Busy preparations for the play were underway inside the classroom. Their evening performance was only 15 minutes away, and it was time to start letting the audience in.

“How d’ya think it went?” Minami Mirai asked, standing beside him. She was supposed to be the leader of their whole gig.

Tomoki wondered if she really had the time to be spacing out in the hallway, but ultimately figured she’d know her own job better than him. “How what went?”

“I mean the two of them.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be just fine.” No doubt about that. Just like 1+1=2.

“But… doesn’t Asai-kun like someone else?”

“Hm?”

“There was another girl he was close to besides Misora, back in junior high, right?”

“You knew about that?”

“Misora told me just earlier.”

The very idea was so ridiculous that Tomoki could only stretch himself out, smiling. “If anything has ever been true, it’s that Asai Kei cares deeply for Haruki Misora.” It was just that his way of expressing affection was odd, which tended to cause misunderstandings.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“How can you be so sure, Tomoki-kun?”

“Just by lookin’. I’ve been with that guy longer than you might think.” They shared a house together for three years, all the way from the summer of their sixth and final year of elementary until the end of their third and final year of junior high. He was absolutely confident that he knew Asai Kei better than anyone else. “Trust me, this is gonna be the number one happiest day of his life.” The kind of day that he’d mark with a big red circle whenever he got a new calendar.

Minami leaned back into the wall, folding her arms into her chest. “Hmm… I just find it hard to believe that Asai-kun actually likes someone.”

“Well, I think he likes pretty much everyone.”

“Like, I get the whole love for humanity and everything, it’s just… weird to think of him liking one specific person.”

“You think so? He’s just a normal high schooler, I promise.” Just another high schooler who wanted to be happy.

“I wonder about that,” Minami said, tilting her head before offering a strained smile. “But, then again, you’re probably right.”

Her gaze had turned down the hallway.

Tomoki followed her eyes, looking towards the southern school building.

Asai Kei and Haruki Misora were quickly making their way through the hallway, pushing through the crowd and the noise.

As she gazed at their faces, Minami whispered, “With smiles like that, they’ll give us the best ending to the play ever.”

Tomoki smiled and nodded in complete agreement.

✽

A tightly clenched fist impacted with a bed. The mattress had no springs and created a louder sound than expected. The offending wrist twitched with pain, evidently having twisted somewhat from the force.

Souma Sumire collapsed onto the bed as if giving in to the pain. She pressed her face into the blanket, finding her mind to be surprisingly calm. After hitting the bed, she just didn’t feel like doing anything any more.

This was the plan. This was always the plan.

Asai Kei, Haruki Misora, Souma Sumire, all following the pre-planned narrative, each without a single step out of line. Not one problem had arisen.

She turned over in her bed, gazing up at the ceiling. It was a drab sight to behold. She could hardly expect beauty from a hotel that had been abandoned for so many years.

A certain girl came to mind as she gazed up at that filthy ceiling.

You’re so unfair.

You’re the only one who doesn’t have to suffer.

You get to say it’s all for Kei’s sake, and keep yourself safe from all the danger.

You just take all the hardship and shove it on me, while you take it easy.

It was even that girl’s fault that Kei had to hurt so much.

That girl was so stupid, so selfish, so pathetically weak.

Souma Sumire whispered with a hoarse voice. “I’m just so… tired.”

Tired of the time that she couldn’t escape from.

Tired of a future with no hope.

Tired of having to put up with that girl, and having to carry so much resentment.

But hey… there’s only a little more.

Just a little more, and it would all be over. There really was an end, so she could keep going.

Souma Sumire closed her eyes.

She had promised to meet someone later that night. No doubt by then, she would be all the more tired.

She closed her eyes, hoping to get just that little bit of extra rest until then.