Seishun Buta Yarou Series - Volume 6 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Shouko Makinohara

1

This was all part of what he’d heard earlier that day.

After big Shouko invited him on a date, Rio had told Sakuta a theory about little Shouko’s Adolescence Syndrome that even she found hard to believe.

This happened three hours ago…

…in the classroom right after exams.

“She may have come from the future,” Rio Futaba said, looking dead serious.

This was far too sudden for him.

“Huh?” was all he could manage.

It didn’t even qualify as surprise. Unable to process what she’d said, he was just making a noise.

“Technically speaking, it may be more like she’s an aspect of herself that was able to reach that future.”

Even this phrasing didn’t really make sense to him. He hadn’t even digested the core premise yet.

Rio had said…the future. Before he could do anything else, he had to get a definition of that word. At the very least, it was clear Rio wasn’t using future the way anyone else would.

“Is that the same future I know about? Like, the one that happens next year or the year after?”

He was hoping she’d say no. Otherwise they were getting into some time travel crap here. Whether she sensed his apprehension or not, Rio just nodded impassively.

“That’s the one,” she said.

“Oh,” he said, like he understood. But if he was getting tripped up before they’d even started, there was no way he was going to make it to her actual conclusion. “Uh, how so?”

A group of lingering girls moved to the hall, laughing. Everyone else had already left, so classroom 2-1 was deserted. Just Sakuta and Rio…

“You said before that traveling into the past was problematic.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

That lecture had arrived when he’d gotten swept up in Tomoe Koga’s Adolescence Syndrome. Sakuta found himself repeating the same day, and Rio had told him about Laplace’s demon.

“That’s why I corrected myself. She didn’t come from the future—she’s gone there.”

“So…like the petite devil, she’s a future simulation?”

“That involved accurately predicting future events in full knowledge of the position and velocity of all matter in the universe, so it doesn’t apply here. That wouldn’t explain why we can perceive both Shoukos.”

“Then…”

“Are you familiar with the Urashima Effect?”

“I know the story of ‘Urashima Taro.’”

“If you hadn’t known that, I’d have stopped attempting to explain anything.”

“Is it possible to be born in this country, reach our age, and not know that story?”

If it was, he’d like to meet a person like that. And find out what kind of messed-up life they’d led.

“So what’s the gist of that story?”

“He rescues a turtle and gets taken to the Dragon Palace and, after a few days there, comes back to the surface to find decades have passed; then he opens the jeweled box and becomes an old man.”

“So the key part is that a few days in the Dragon Palace are decades on the surface. In physics terms, there’s a theory explaining this phenomenon.”

“Who thought that up?”

“Einstein.”

“How did he end up reading ‘Urashima Taro’?”

Geniuses sure saw the world in a different light.

“‘Urashima Taro’ wasn’t the inspiration for it or anything. Even you’ve heard of the theory of special relativity, right? It’s on the third-year syllabus.”

“Er, it is? Seriously?”

That was an alarming discovery.

“Not the whole thing, but part of it is in the textbook.”

“I don’t wanna be a third-year…”

“Getting held back a year at a public school spells certain doom.”

“I didn’t mean it that way…”

He was thinking more in Neverland terms. But regardless of his desires, Rio moved on.

“So in special relativity, the faster matter travels, the slower time flows.”

“…That doesn’t make a whit of sense.”

“It’s the result of an experiment using two extremely accurate atomic clocks…”

Rio took two pieces of hard candy out of her pocket, one blue, one red. Probably cream soda and apricot flavored.

“They put one at the starting location.”

She set the blue candy on his desk.

“And the other on a plane that flew around the earth.”

She waved the red candy in a circle around the desk, completing its journey back at the blue candy’s position. These candies represented “extremely accurate atomic clocks,” apparently.

“And what do you think happened?”

“Well, if what you just said is true, the plane is faster, so time flowed slower?” he said, pointing at the red candy.

“Yes. Fifty-nine nanoseconds slower.”

“How many seconds is that?”

“One nanosecond is a billionth of second, so 59/1,000,000,000.”

“Seems well within the margin of error…”

Certainly not a time difference perceivable by humans.

“That’s why they used ‘extremely accurate’ clocks. But the fifty-nine-nanosecond discrepancy matched the mathematical solution Einstein had discovered.”

“What do you have to eat to start thinking like that?”

Sakuta had been on planes and the Shinkansen and had never once stopped to consider if the flow of time was altered. He’d gone his whole life without ever entertaining such notions.

“I wouldn’t know. But this proves that time is relative, not absolute.”

“I don’t get it. Let’s just call a second a second before I get a headache.”

“Azusagawa, what defines that second?”

“Well, the earth’s rotation takes twenty-four hours, so you divide one of those hours by sixty to get a minute, and one of those minutes by sixty to get a second.”

“That explanation is a century out of date.”

“Huh?”

“Currently, a second is the duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the cesium-133 atom.”

“Come again?”

“A second is the duration of 9,192,631,770 periods of the radiation corresponding to the transition between the two hyperfine levels of the ground state of the cesium-133 atom.”

Hearing it a second time did not help it enter his head. It was easier remembering the codes that allowed you to revive yourself in old video games.

“…Let’s get back on track. So Shouko came from the future…or went there? How does that work?”

Rio put the candies back in her pocket. Then she looked out the window. At the waters off Shichirigahama Beach. It was a clear day, and the sunlight made the ocean glimmer.

“If someone told you you’d never survive high school, what would you do?” she asked, suddenly abandoning the topic of physics entirely.

“Uh…not sure I can answer that without it actually happening.”

She was obviously asking about Shouko’s state of mind. And that was exactly why he didn’t want to give an easy answer. He wasn’t being evasive, either; he genuinely thought it was the sort of thing you only discovered when it really happened to you.

“What do you imagine you’d do, then?”

Rio seemed hell-bent on prying an answer out of him.

“Makinohara said she wanted her parents to see her all grown up.”

He remembered her sitting there on the hospital bed, her smile unfettered.

“Right.”

“I wouldn’t think like that. I’d be too full of my own problems to want to grow up. I’d rather stay a kid. Stay a high school student. I’d rather time just stopped for me.”

“I bet Shouko feels like that, too.”

“How can you be sure?”

“You weren’t with us when I went to see her the other day. I think that’s why she let herself grumble. She said, ‘I hope my body stops growing.’”

“……”

“Maybe those feelings are why she couldn’t finish the Future Schedule.”

“…Makes sense.”

This is simply a truth of life. It’s impossible to stay positive all the time. To cling to hope. Sometimes anxiety and worries will weigh you down. Shouko was no exception. No way was she going through life with her eyes fixed permanently on a hopeful future.

She’d have nights alone in the hospital, wondering what would happen if they never found a donor. If her body gave out before then. It would be scary. She would hope she never grew up. She would wish that tomorrow wouldn’t come. These thoughts were only too natural.

“One side of Shouko hopes she grows up, and another hopes she never does. And the latter one…I think that fear is what created the older Shouko.”

“Hmm? Wouldn’t the hopeful side be more likely?”

“If you really have faith in the future, there’s no need to rush to it.”

“Fair enough.”

She’d really hit the target dead center.

“Which brings us back to the topic of time.”

“And how it’s relative?”

“The side of Shouko that doesn’t want to grow up is desperately trying to stop her internal clock. She’s averting her eyes from the future, hunkering down, trying to make herself stop.”

“…A complete standstill.”

“And what if the result is that the world she sees is getting slower, like everything is in slow motion? And seen from the world where we are, where the Shouko who wants to grow up is, what happens in relative terms?”

“Okay, stop, Futaba.”

He understood her conclusion, at least. Time flowed slower when moving faster—she’d just explained this. But before they could even get to that, there was a major question occupying his mind.

“You’re saying there are two worlds?”

“That was my intention, yes.”

“You make it sound simple.”

He almost managed a chuckle.

“I figured you’d figure it out without the steps in between.”

“You clearly think too highly of me.”

“Fine…”

Rio took two candies out of her pocket again and placed them on the desk. This time they were purple and green. Presumably grape and muscat flavored.

“Let’s say the purple one is the Shouko who wants to grow up and the world we see that moves at normal speeds. But the green one is the Shouko who doesn’t want to grow up and is in slow motion.”

“Is it just normal for there to be multiple worlds?”

“A matter of perspective, but potentially infinite.”

“Are you serious?”

“There’s no guarantee the world you see and the world I see are the same. If we discuss it in micro terms, you remember me telling you about how the location of particles only goes from a probability to a fixed point through the act of observation?”

“Oh, quantum physics. My favorite.”

The idea that something could exist in a state of probability only until it was observed just sounded like magic. But it was apparently the truth. Thinking about that principle in terms of his own body made him afraid he was fading away. Although that obviously wasn’t the case.

“If the discrepancy between the speeds of the purple and green worlds is sufficient, then what does the slower green world look like viewed from the faster purple world?”

If he’d followed Rio’s lecture this far, the answer was simple.

“Like time’s moving faster in the green world.”

“Yes. In other words, the faster time flows for Shouko who rejects growing up—basically the older Shouko—the further ahead of us in time she gets.”

“It’s starting to add up.”

He finally grasped what Rio meant.

“Talk about irony.”

She was trying so hard not to grow up that she’d somehow wound up in the future… You couldn’t get much more ironic.

“Yeah.”

“So why is the grown-up Shouko from the green world here in the purple one?”

“By way of explanation, I placed the two worlds next to each other, but a probabilistic interpretation suggests the worlds are overlapping.”

“Overlapping?”

“Does it make sense if I say it’s right next to us, we just can’t see it?”

“…Kinda, kinda not.”

He looked at the empty chair next to him. Rio was saying another world existed, just one he couldn’t see, touch, or perceive.

“Normally, we can only perceive one of these two worlds, but whether by chance or fate, we’ve realized the other Shouko exists. That’s our current situation.”

This, too, he sorta got but sorta didn’t. But Sakuta didn’t really see the point in mastering the underlying principle. What he needed to know was what came after that.

“So my other question…”

“What?”

“If Shouko has reached the future, wouldn’t that eliminate the anxiety causing the Adolescence Syndrome? I mean, she knows she’ll be a high school student. And a college student.”

If the source of her anxiety was gone, that should resolve the Adolescence Syndrome. And that would also mean there was no reason for big Shouko to be here.

“I’m not so sure. Anxiety isn’t a one-off deal, and if it really is little Shouko’s Adolescence Syndrome, and if she doesn’t know about big Shouko, then you could argue she has no way of knowing that big Shouko made it to the future.”

“Good point. But in that case, wouldn’t telling her fix things?”

A secure future. That was what little Shouko most wanted. A ticket to a future that could wash away her fears.

“Potentially.”

But there was something they had to verify before they could hand over that ticket.

“How do you propose we prove this hypothesis?”

At present, this was all pure conjecture on Rio’s part. They had no solid evidence to speak of.

If there was any evidence that proved this theory beyond a doubt, the only one aware of them was big Shouko. But for whatever reason, she had yet to breathe a word of any of this. Even if they asked her point-blank what she was hiding, it seemed unlikely she would just tell them.

If she was keeping something this important from them, there must’ve been a reason for it.

“Azusagawa, find an excuse to look down her shirt.”

“Hngg?”

This strange noise was a direct result of Rio’s abrupt swerve. Of all the proposals she could have made, she went there?

“If Shouko really is the future of little Shouko, then that’s where you’ll find proof.”

Looking dead serious, Rio drew a line down her chest, right between her boobs.

“The transplant scar.”

“……”

The only way Shouko could have a chance to grow up. A heart transplant. Without that, she’d never live to see high school, much less college. If she’d survived, she must have had the surgery.

“The Future Schedule homework never mentioned the surgery, and it never came up when little Shouko talked about what she wanted to add…so if the scar is there, that should clinch it. The older Shouko isn’t a dream little Shouko is having, but her actual future.”

“But even if that logic holds true, you should really be the one looking.”

“Why?”

“You’re a girl.”

“But you’re way more interested in staring at girls’ cleavage.”

“It’s a matter of difficulty.”

Things other girls were allowed to do could well become criminal acts when men did them.

“And I think this is something you’re better off seeing with your own eyes, Azusagawa.”

“……”

“You’re definitely one of those people who has to see it to believe it.”

Rio was being all grim and acting like the discussion was already over. It wasn’t the most concrete argument he’d ever heard, but he had to admit it rang true. Rio knew Sakuta pretty well. But he wished she also knew that he believed basically anything she said without needing to confirm it first.

“Okay, fine. So practically speaking, just what excuse will convince a girl to let you look at her boobs?”

“Maybe after a bath?”

“She comes out in pajamas.”

Shouko’s outfits were all pretty conservative. He’d never even seen her in short sleeves.

Maybe she was deliberately avoiding showing skin. That might be overthinking it, but…

“Then maybe hide a spy cam in your bathroom?”

Was it his imagination, or was she already giving him a look of contempt?

“If I actually did that, what would you do?”

“Call the cops.”

“Then why suggest it?”

“Another option is to just take a run at Shouko, seduce her, and get her clothes off. I mean, you love her, right?”

This conversation was getting out of hand. If the look in her eyes was anything to go by, she was clearly testing him.

If he broke eye contact here, he was sunk.

And if he lied, she’d nail him with something worse.

So Sakuta decided to own it.

“I love her,” he said.

“As a person?” Rio sneered.

He would really prefer it if she didn’t close off his escape routes like that, but he wasn’t about to let her render him speechless, either.

“As a woman,” he said, electing to take the bait.

His first love may not have borne fruit, but that didn’t sour his feelings for Shouko. When he’d made it to Minegahara and found no signs of her, there was no outlet for his feelings, and over time, they’d simmered down. That was all. They hadn’t gone anywhere, and they hadn’t magically ceased to exist. With Shouko back at arm’s length, his old feelings had come boiling back up. And he didn’t hesitate to give them a proper name.

“That’s very you, Azusagawa. I can see why Sakurajima’s worried.”

“I’m sure Mai reads me like a book.”

If he dismissed his feelings for Shouko, Mai would hate him for it. She knew just how much Shouko had been there for Sakuta, and any signs that he failed to comprehend that would only earn Mai’s contempt.

But that didn’t mean she was prepared to accept it from an emotional perspective.

Undoubtedly, she was conflicted. But that was what happened when emotions and logic were saying contradictory things. Sakuta didn’t think either side was absolutely right. His only real option was to try to find a middle ground, not leaning too far to either side. Sometimes the balanced path was the right choice.

“Also, perhaps this is beside the point, but…”

“Mm?”

“If Shouko really is the future version of little Shouko, then that might explain why they’re so different.”

“I imagine getting a heart transplant would have an effect on your outlook.”

The candle of her life had been about to burn out, and then the operation gave her a massive extension. The same kind of candle everyone else had, one where she had no idea how long it would burn. She’d be overjoyed yet also at a loss. It only made sense that it would uproot how she thought and felt about everything. It would be far stranger if she stayed the same.

“You see stories about it on TV sometimes, claiming that patients who got a heart transplant also receive fragments of the donor’s memories or personalities. And researchers have actually found cells in human organs that can harbor memories.”

“Then the way she deliberately ignores social cues comes from the donor?”

“That’s one possibility. A more reasonable assumption is what you already said, that life-and-death operations do tend to change your perspective.”

This new idea was just one other potential explanation. With that made clear, Rio glanced at the classroom clock. Ten minutes until he’d agreed to meet Shouko. If he was late, Lord only knows what she’d force him to do to make up for it. Better get going.

“Not to circle back around—but Shouko is likely hiding something.”

“I know. If she really is from the future, then that means Makinohara will live…and we know how this Adolescence Syndrome will work out.”

Yet Shouko acted like she had no idea and gave them a different explanation entirely. She’d lied about it. To their faces. Without batting an eye.

“I suppose the most positive spin you could put on it is that, like in time travel novels, she’s afraid you might change the future.”

“But given her personality, it might just be for kicks.”

“True.” Rio nodded. She obviously didn’t buy that explanation, but they were out of time to argue the point.

He checked the clock again. Only seven minutes left.

So he picked up his bag and headed for the door.

He’d just have to ask Shouko herself.

2

The two of them were walking along the deserted beach together.

A trail of their footprints ran along the sandy edge of the surf.

Sakuta and Shouko had left the wedding venue and headed down to Morito Beach. Neither had suggested it, but their feet had naturally carried them toward the water.

“……”

“……”

When their conversation trailed off, the lapping waves filled the silence.

It was a gentler sound than the waves at Shichirigahama. The same sea, but a different aspect of it.

“Futaba does not disappoint,” Shouko said at last. “I didn’t think I’d dropped that many hints.”

“One false note, and she’ll start to question every assumption.”

If the equation didn’t solve cleanly, she’d start wondering what was wrong. Then she’d go back over her work, trying to find the error. Rio had once explained that her brain just did that without her conscious participation. That this was the only way she could feel secure.

“She’s amazing.”

“I know, I know.”

“I’m not complimenting you, Sakuta.”

“Futaba is my lifelong friend,” he said, puffing out his chest.

Shouko rolled her eyes at him and snorted.

“……”

“……”

“Um, Sakuta…,” she said, then hesitated. He sensed a hint of worry in her gaze. “Are you mad?”

“Not really,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“But you haven’t looked at me in several minutes.”

“I’m just…”

He’d meant to keep his tone level, but his voice betrayed his intentions, and he broke off. There was a burning heat behind his nose, and he couldn’t get the words out. The feelings welling up inside him were belatedly spilling over.

Struggling to contain them, he tried again.

“I’m just…” But his voice was a squeak, utterly failing to disguise anything. It was wet with invisible tears. “…I’m just relieved.”

The heat behind his eyes was getting worse, so he stopped and turned to look at Shouko. She stopped, too, returning his gaze.

Shouko was right here, with him. Her long hair blowing in the sea breeze, held back by her pale hand. She looked slightly annoyed by the force of the wind, but there was a trace of a smile on the corners of her lips and a gentleness in her eyes. As Sakuta tried not to cry, she watched wordlessly over him.

“Makinohara’s gonna get the operation she needs, right?”

Shouko was from the future. She was little Shouko’s future.

“She is.” Shouko nodded.

“She’ll make it to high school.”

“You met her two years ago.”

“And college… She’ll get to grow up.”

“Do I look like a junior high school kid to you?”

“If a junior high school kid looked as old as you do, it would be on the news.”

“You couldn’t have just said I’d grown into a real beauty and left it at that?” She sulked.

“I’m just…really glad.”

The tension keeping him going was suddenly gone, and his strength left him. He crouched down on the sand. Shouko’s deteriorating condition had taken more of a toll on him than he’d realized. And having that fear snatched away yanked the rug out from under him.

“Sakuta?” Shouko leaned in to check on him.

“I’m just relieved,” he said again.

He couldn’t find the strength to stand, and that fact made him laugh.

He hadn’t realized just how much the anxiety had mushroomed within him. Maybe a part of him had even started to give up hope.

Not a good sign.

The seed of doubt planted that day had grown each time he told himself it would all be fine, spreading roots deep inside, a stalk shooting up through his entire body.

“Time will solve everything.”

“……”

He looked up, and Shouko’s smile wrapped around him like a warm beam of sunlight.

“Little me’s heart condition.”

“……”

“And little me’s Adolescence Syndrome.”

Shouko spoke slowly, each word distinct.

“It’ll all be over by Christmas.”

“You mean…”

Shouko put her hands to her chest.

“Little me will have her operation soon and no longer have to worry about her heart.”

“And you’ll…”

“So I can only be with you until Christmas.”

If she had her surgery, little Shouko’s anxieties about growing up would naturally go away. And the Adolescence Syndrome caused by those emotions would be resolved. It made sense.

Shouko reached out both hands toward him. Sakuta took them, and she pulled him to his feet. Like she was proving how healthy she was.

“Sakuta.”

“Yes?”

“Give me one last memory?”

“Like what?”

“The first-love kind.”

She made it sound so simple and direct, he started blushing, and when she saw that, she turned red, too.

“Why are you the one blushing?” she asked.

“I’m just excited.”

“Don’t try to distract me! Answer the question.”

He’d hoped to wriggle out of it, but it wasn’t that easy.

“Honestly, that’s the thing I don’t get about you, Shouko.”

“Meaning?”

She knew exactly what he meant but asked anyway.

“Even when Mai was there…,” he started, but then he realized that was definitely not a subject he should broach and cut himself off.

But Shouko pounced on it. “That reminds me, Sakuta,” she said.

“Of what?” He tried playing dumb. But he’d brought it up, so he couldn’t get out of it now.

“I still haven’t heard back.”

“Heard what?”

“Your answer.”

“To what?”

“My confession.”

“Of your sins?”

“Of my love.”

“……”

“Ugh, Sakuta, you know what I mean.”

For all her protests, she was clearly enjoying this tug-of-war.

“I’m clueless.”

“You’re such a liar!”

“I dunno why you’d love me.”

“……”

Shouko looked at him like he was a bizarre sea creature. She blinked several times. Like she had no clue why he wouldn’t get something that obvious.

“I had any number of reasons to be drawn to you, Shouko, but…”

“Like the time I put my arms around you, pressed myself up against your back, and offered to kiss you?”

“That’s enough to snare any junior high boy.”

At that age, you could even fall in love with the cute girl in front of you just because she picked up the eraser you dropped.

“But there was more than that.”

“You told me the distance to the horizon and the three words you loved most, and you taught me the meaning of life.”

He understood now why she’d been able to do that. After years spent with death close at hand, the transplant had given her life a future. Her experience with her condition had left Shouko deeply grateful. For the parents and people around her who’d supported her, for the courage of the donor and their family in the face of whatever tragic accident or illness befell them. Shouko had so much to be grateful for, had gained so much from the kindness of others, that she’d been able to acquire such wisdom.

At the time, he hadn’t even begun to understand what she meant. Maybe he’d still barely scratched the surface. But just remembering it made him want to cry. Especially knowing how it was born of all the kindness that had prolonged her life.

“So I made a man out of you, Sakuta?”

She was deliberately choosing that phrasing. Probably half to cover her own embarrassment. But the other half was just teasing Sakuta.

“I don’t remember making a woman of you,” he said, fighting back.

“You’re the one who made it so I could look after Hayate,” she said, dodging under his blow but sounding like she meant it.

“That was just…”

“And it was you who taught me to stop saying ‘Sorry’ and tell Mom and Dad ‘Thank you’ and ‘I love you’ instead.”

“……”

“You always treated me like I was normal, like my condition didn’t matter. When I was in the hospital and sure this was it, you showed up every day to see me.”

“That was all I could do.”

“I was really glad you kept coming. I’d start getting excited when it was time for your classes to let out, and I’d look for you outside the window, peer out in the hall to see if you were there yet…and check the mirror to see if my hair looked weird and practice smiling normally. I’d get depressed about how pale I looked, and I even asked Mom if there was any way I could hide it with makeup. All worked up and hopelessly in love with you.”

“……”

“Little me hadn’t realized it was love yet.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t be telling me about it.”

He said that to try to deflect the direction this was going, but she just laughed, clearly seeing right through it, and ignored him completely.

“But little me’s first love stayed with her. She never told anyone.”

“Thorny.”

“I’m in college now! I’ll never get a boyfriend if I keep dragging my first love around like this. You’ve gotta help me here.”

“It’s your fault I dragged my first love out as long as I did.”

He’d even picked his high school because he was chasing after her. That was plenty cringey.

“Sakuta, you found a new woman and overcame it, so you don’t get to talk.”

She was definitely deliberately taking a dig at him there.

“Then what kind of memory are you looking for here?”

“Take me to see the Enoshima Illumination on Christmas Eve.”

Little Shouko had mentioned she wanted to see that. It was probably something that meant a lot to Shouko. To the little one, to the big one, to all versions of Shouko Makinohara.

“Christmas Eve, huh?”

There were lots of demands on him that day. Mai, of course. And he couldn’t just abandon Kaede for it. But before he could bring any of that up…

“Don’t worry,” Shouko said, like she could see the future. “Kaede’s going to stay with your grandparents on the twenty-third.”

First he’d heard of it.

“She’d going to give you and your wonderful girlfriend some space.”

If this prophecy was true, it would definitely prove Shouko was from the future.

“My sister knows what’s up, huh?”

But what were Mai’s plans? Would she just end up taking more work and being too busy to spend time with him? Maybe that was why Shouko had chosen to invite him.

“Don’t worry,” Shouko said again, grinning at him. “Mai will have the evening off, so you can relax.”

That was certainly good news, but didn’t that make the situation even messier? Or maybe not. Maybe it was really simple.

“You’ll have to decide what to do, Sakuta. Spend that time with me, or spend it with Mai.”

There was a trace of sadness to her smile. But Sakuta finally realized what it was she was after.

“I’ll be waiting at the dragon lantern by the entrance to Benten Bridge at six PM on December twenty-fourth.”

“Shouko, I…”

“You don’t need to say it. But I’ll be waiting there.”

She was back to her usual impish smile.

And that left him with no option but to swallow his words. That was what Shouko wanted him to do. And his actions on December 24 would have to be his answer.

His father called that night. He had a lot of opinions about Sakuta’s love life, but that wasn’t why he’d called. Now that Kaede’s dissociative disorder had cleared up, her grandparents wanted to see her again. They hadn’t seen her once in two years.

So starting on the twenty-third, she’d be visiting their grandparents for a few days. Their father would be stopping by, too.

Just what Shouko had said would happen.

This definitely rattled him. And planted a growing certainty in his mind.

Kaede made a face and then said, “It’s better if I’m not around for Christmas, right?”

Shouko’s prediction had even been accurate down to his sister’s motives.

3

The day after his surprise date with Shouko—Saturday, December 13—Sakuta was working the late shift until nine, and he hit the bath the second he got home.

The hot water soothed the fatigue of a long day. If he could get Mai to coddle and scold him, he’d be fully recovered, but when he got out of the bath, she still wasn’t home.

He poked his head into the living room, still drying his hair. No Mai.

“You hear anything from Mai?” he asked. Kaede was at the kotatsu, watching TV. Shouko was taking her turn in the bath. He could hear the shower running. And her humming.

“Not yet.”

Mai had left early for her film shoot. The same one they’d done location work for in Kanazawa. They still had some interior scenes left, and they were shooting those on a soundstage in Tokyo.

But it was pretty late. He glanced at the clock above the TV; it was ten past ten.

Kaede was channel surfing.

“Anything on?” he asked, finally done drying his hair.

“So many people I don’t know. It’s hard to follow anything.”

A two-year gap in your memories would do that.

She stopped on a talk show. A comedy duo was performing their routine. Their bit was unfolding at a blistering pace.

“Is this what’s funny now?”

“They’re on TV a lot, so I guess so?”

“If people quote this at school, I’ll be in trouble. I don’t get it at all.”

Kaede collapsed on the kotatsu, her face turned toward the screen.

“No need to force yourself.”

“Ugh. How am I supposed to make friends?”

“You’ll just have to write your own routine. ‘My body’s third-year, but my mind is still first-year!’ Make the whole class laugh.”

“That discrepancy is the problem! Why do you think I’ve been on a TV binge?”

Kaede glared at him, but this was not the least bit intimidating. It just looked sulky.

“Hard to cram two years’ worth before third term starts.”

Kaede was busy working toward returning to school. Their father had already spoken to the school, and after classes ended on Wednesday, her school counselor, Miwako Tomobe, had stopped by to see her. She’d definitely been a little rattled by how different Kaede was, but they’d talked for a while and set some goals.

And one of those was to attend school starting from third term.

“That’s the problem!”

“So make a joke of it.”

“And draw attention to myself?”

“You’re joining the class in third term; there’s no avoiding that. If you make it something everyone can laugh about, it’ll be way easier in the long run.”

“Who am I supposed to make laugh in the nurse’s office?”

Third-year students were right in the middle of entrance exam hell by this time of year. Out of consideration for that, she was going to start by hanging out in the nurse’s office and proceed from there.

“Well, the nurse.”

“Fat lot of good that does me.”

Scowling, she picked up a mirror from the tabletop. Examining her face from every angle. It had changed enough over the last two years that she was still struggling to accept it.

“Do I even look like a third-year?”

“Sure. You’re tall enough.”

She was five foot four and change. Tall for her age.

“Won’t everyone else be more grown-up?”

The TV went to a commercial break. Hearing a voice they recognized, they both turned toward the screen. Mai was there, advertising cell phones. One with a family plan. Mai was playing one of a high school couple and jokingly said, “Should we make a family, then?”

Sakuta was instantly mesmerized. He almost cried “Yes!” out loud.

Kaede was gazing at Mai with rapt attention, too. Eyes sparkling with admiration. Then she started tugging at hair, frowning.

“Kaede.”

“What?”

“Mai’s real cute, right?”

“I still can’t believe you’re dating.”

“Also, Kaede…”

“What?”

“Raising ducks won’t make a swan.”

“Obviously.”

She clearly didn’t catch his drift.

“I just wanna go from a lame duck to a normal duck,” she said.

Maybe she understood more than he first suspected. She was still tugging her hair.

“Well, can’t hurt to try a haircut,” he said.

Kaede let go.

“That wasn’t what I…,” she spluttered.

“I know a girl who was a real hick in junior high, but she totally transformed herself into a fashion-conscious high school girl. Now she has all kinds of guys gunning for her.”

This was Tomoe Koga. She’d once shown him a picture of herself in junior high, and hick was the only word for it. Two clunky braids just hanging there, totally uncool. But she’d changed her hair, learned how to use makeup, and put in the work required to be a cool girl. Maybe Kaede could, too.

“Haircuts are a huge move,” Kaede said.

“It takes a ton of courage just to step through the doors of those fancy salons.”

“First you need to get a haircut good enough that they’ll even let you in a place like that.”

“Where do you get that, then?”

“That’s what I wanna know.”

Kaede sighed dramatically. As if trying to cheer her up, their tricolored cat, Nasuno, rubbed her back against Kaede. Maybe she was just itchy. Nasuno curled up on the warm kotatsu blanket.

“I guess I could give you a basic cut. That’s what I’ve been doing.”

After all, the other Kaede had been unable to leave the house.

“…Is that why the left and right are different lengths?”

“So that’s a no? Then we’ll have to ask Mai. Maybe she can get her stylist to take a look at you.”

“I—I couldn’t! I’m not worthy!”

“Oh?”

“And it’d be expensive!”

“Sure, but my wages can cover it.”

“It’d be, like, ten thousand yen!”

“If it gives you the confidence to go to school, it’s a bargain.”

“R-really?” Kaede hesitated, toying with her hair again. Both hands. Changing her hairstyle seemed like a big step for her. But by the time the commercial ended, she whispered, “Maybe I should.”

It felt like she was taking a positive step forward. Sakuta detected a genuine desire to ready herself for attending school again. Her hands were clutched at her chest. Perhaps she was thinking about the other Kaede, the one who’d spent two years steadily working toward this goal. It looked like she was swearing an oath to make that work pay off and make her return to school a success.

“All right! I’ll go get the scissors.”

“I’m not asking you! It’ll be all uneven again.”

She put her hands up, fending him off. Why did her strenuous objections make him want to cut her hair so bad?

He considered actually fetching the scissors, but his terrible idea was interrupted by a phone ringing. The landline.

The number on the little monochrome display was eleven digits, starting with 090. He knew that number. One of three numbers he had memorized. It was neither Yuuma’s nor Rio’s. This was Mai.

He picked up the phone and held it to his ear.

“Azusagawa speaking.”

“This is Sakurajima. Can I speak to Sakuta?”

She knew full well it was him on the phone but went the formal route anyway. Probably because he’d answered like the call was from a stranger.

“I beg your pardon. Which Sakurajima might that be?”

“The Sakurajima currently dating Sakuta.”

“What’s up, Mai?” he asked, not seeing another exit from this phone-manners role play.

“We just finished filming, so I’m still at the studio. I’ll be back late.”

“What time?”

It was already past ten. Almost ten thirty.

“I’ve gotta change still, so after eleven.”

“Your manager gonna drop you off?”

“The trains should get me there faster, so I was going to take one back.”

She sounded unsure why he’d asked that.

“Then gimme another call before you hop on the train.”

“Why?”

“So I can meet you at the station.”

“I’m not a child. I’ll be fine.”

“You not being a child is why I’m concerned.”

“I think you are the single greatest threat to me.”

“I’ve always wanted to be dangerous! I’m honored you think of me that way.”

“Okay, okay. But sure. We do need to talk, so come meet me.”

“Talk about what?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Don’t get my hopes up.”

“Expect great things,” Mai said with a happy laugh. Since they were on the phone, it felt like she was giggling right in his ear, which was delightful. “I’ll check the train schedule and call you back.”

“Okay. You did good work filming today, Mai!”

“Thanks!”

They hung up, still laughing.

Mai called again twenty minutes later. She said her train was scheduled to arrive at eleven thirty.

Fifteen minutes before that, he pried himself out of the kotatsu.

“I gotta go,” he said.

“Stay warm!” Shouko called out, glancing over her shoulder at him.

Kaede was sitting at the kotatsu next to her, fast asleep. He’d told her to sleep in her bed, but she’d said she had something to talk to Mai about and, until five minutes ago, had insisted she could stay up and wait. She probably wanted to talk about the haircut before her resolve wavered. She’d been discussing what look she should go for with Shouko earlier.

“Huh? Are you back already?” she asked blearily.

“Oh, did I wake you?”

“I wasn’t asleep…”

She totally was. She was still half-asleep now. And not only was Sakuta not back, he hadn’t even left yet. But he decided not to rain on her positivity.

“I’m going to get her now,” he said and left the house.

Outside, the cold night air made him shiver. There was nobody on the streets, only an eerie hush.

The chill lent wings to his feet, and he made it to the station in record time.

He went through Fujisawa Station on a daily basis, but this close to Christmas, it seemed like a totally different place.

The holiday itself was over a week away, but they already had the station covered in Christmas lights and decorations.

Fighting against the stream of people heading home, Sakuta made his way to the lockers outside the JR gates and stopped there. These lockers were where Mai had been stashing her bunny-girl outfit when they first met. It was now safely in his bedroom closet. It had been a while since he’d convinced her to put it on, though.

“Maybe she’ll wear it for Christmas.”

“Absolutely not.”

Mai had come up behind him while he was distracted by the lockers.

“Aww. But it’s Christmas!”

He hung his head, turning toward her. And found her glaring at him. She had on a knit cap with ear flaps and a mask to ward off colds. It also had the notable side-benefit of making it nigh impossible for anyone to realize they were on the same train as Mai Sakurajima.

“That is not a reason.”

She started walking.

“I’d settle for miniskirt Santa.”

“Christmas isn’t a cosplay holiday.”

“No, but it is a day for couples to flirt like mad.”

“Sigh…”

He headed back the way he’d come, with Mai at his side. They passed the electronics store, following the main drag.

As the bridge came into sight, Mai suddenly asked, “So what happened with Shouko?”

This was uncanny, and his heart nearly leaped out of his chest.

“What happened how?” he said, playing dumb to cover.

“That’s what I’m asking.” Mai glared at him. This was just a feint, though. She wasn’t actually mad. Yet.

“Nothing happened,” he lied. Highly conscious of her eyes on him.

He wasn’t sure what had prompted that question, but it was true there had been a major development.

Big Shouko’s big secret.

Sakuta now knew the truth about who she was.

The fact that she’d come from the future…

And he hadn’t told Mai this. Or anyone. Only three people knew about it: Rio, who’d first suspected it, Shouko herself, and Sakuta.

And on their way home from the wedding venue, on the Enoden train back to Fujisawa Station, Shouko had been very specific about it.

“I want you to keep this our secret.”

“Futaba already knows.”

“I can’t have the future changing on me. If something happens that prevents the transplant, I’m doomed.”

Her tone had been relaxed, but it was a clear warning. He’d taken the hint and nodded. She hadn’t left him with much choice. He really didn’t want a future happening where little Shouko didn’t survive her condition. Now that he knew she’d make it, there was no need to consider any alternatives.

Knowledge influences the way people behave. Sakuta’s own actions had likely been changed already. The way he treated little Shouko would probably be different. He’d choose different words to say to her. If there was any chance of something that minor changing the future, then the fewer people who knew the truth, the better. After all, there was no way for him to go back to not knowing.

And that was why he hadn’t told Mai. Not because he was afraid she’d find out they’d visited the wedding venue and he was trying to hide that. Almost certainly not that.

“If you don’t want to tell me, fine.”

Mai was staring straight ahead, totally striking a “Whatever” vibe. Like she was okay with this, but she wasn’t sure he should be.

“There really wasn’t anything. Why do you ask?”

“The two of you seemed different last night.”

“……”

She had a keen eye.

Maybe he would be safer to admit to some of it, while leaving out the part about the future. In other words, quit using Shouko’s request as an excuse to get out of saying anything.

“Actually, we went to see a chapel in Hayama in secret.”

“……”

This silence was terrifying.

“Shouko suggested it might help with the Adolescence Syndrome, so…”

He was choosing his words carefully, monitoring her reaction.

“Sakuta.”

“Yes? What?”

“I didn’t want to know.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“So this is my fault?”

“No, entirely mine.”

“……”

More silence. She would normally at least manage an exasperated sigh, but not today.

“You really oughtta be meaner to me,” he said.

“Then let me ask a different question.”

“Gladly.”

“What does Shouko mean to you?”

Mai really knew how to hit him where it hurt. Merciless topic selection. Too merciless. He’d already been feeling backed into a corner, and now she was raining blows down on him.

“She’s my first love.”

“Is that all?”

The look in her eyes suggested she knew something. Sakuta saw his own face reflected in them and glanced away.

Meeting Shouko again had made his feelings clear.

The truth nature of the emotions he’d been referring to as his first love.

He could say it now. A simple, short phrase that communicated everything.

It had started two years ago, when he’d first met high school Shouko. Sakuta had felt hopelessly powerless, unable to save Kaede from the bullies at school. His regrets had been so strong they’d triggered his own Adolescence Syndrome, leaving him with mysterious gashes on his chest. He’d been at rock bottom. And feeling like there was no way to pull himself back up.

But then a high school girl saved him.

Shouko saved him.

A girl he just happened to meet on the beach at Shichirigahama.

Her words had resonated with him. She’d forgiven his weakness, his inability to do anything. She’d listened to his regrets. She’d taught him the meaning of kindness. And she’d given him the strength to look up again.

All of that was what he wanted to do for Kaede. What he had failed to do.

That was why he looked up to her.

Why he wanted to be like Shouko.

His feelings for her were pure and powerful.

And at that age, he’d never had feelings like that for anyone. They were so strong that, at the time, he’d mistaken them for love.

That was Sakuta’s first love.

Perhaps the right answer to Mai’s question was that he admired Shouko, that she was his hero.

But even if that was the true nature of his feelings, he didn’t think it was the right answer to Mai’s question. It had been Sakuta’s first love, mistakes and all. He was fine with that. First loves were often composed of feelings you didn’t really understand. That was how they should be.

So no matter how many times Mai asked, his answer wouldn’t change.

“Shouko’s the first girl I ever loved.”

“Shame.”

“What?”

“If you’d babbled something stupid about admiring her, I would’ve been super mean.”

“And I let the chance slip by!”

A shiver ran down his spine. He’d come incredibly close to stepping on a land mine.

“So I’ll accept that for now,” she said.

“Oh? Not gonna ask what you are to me?”

“Just how big a pain in the ass do you think I am?”

She gave him a look like she was totally willing to go there if he insisted, but he decided to beat a hasty retreat. No need to sour her mood if she was in a better one.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

“Not in the mood anymore,” she said.

Maybe she was still a little grumpy.

“Aww. You said I should expect great things! I really was!”

“And whose fault is that?”

“I regret everything.”

“Really?”

“From the bottom of my heart.”

Mai laughed. Maybe she’d forgiven him? But no, it was a trap, lulling him into a false sense of security.

“Did you hold a mock wedding at this chapel?” she asked with a smile.

A fastball that would even shock the dual threat from the north.

“I thought you said you’d accept it for now?”

“……”

Her glare was terrifying.

“Uh, so she did try on a wedding dress.”

His voice got very quiet.

“And was Shouko a portrait of loveliness?”

What was the right answer to that? He felt like any answer he gave would be wrong. The moment the conversation had headed this way, he was doomed.

“I bet you’ll look amazing in your wedding dress, Mai.”

“Up to you whether you get to see that.”

“I would love to.”

“Then correct your behavior.”

“Will do.”

When he took this seriously, Mai let out a very long sigh. But this was vastly preferable to those silent glares.

“I wanted to talk about the twenty-fourth,” she said.

“Mm?”

“Of December.”

“Christmas Eve?”

“If filming goes well, I shouldn’t have to work that evening.”

Her voice was flat, sounding neither excited nor angry. Maybe a bit like she was stifling her feelings.

“You expecting to add any more work?”

“It’s possible, but I did ask Ryouko to leave my schedule open.”

Mai glanced toward him. Looking up through her lashes expectantly.

“And Kaede said she’d be staying with your grandparents, so…”

She trailed off. Their eyes met. She obviously wanted him to finish the thought, but he wanted her to say it.

“So?” he said.

“Let’s make it a date,” she said, clearly trying very hard not to sound embarrassed. Before he could point this out, she blurted, “How about the illumination show on Enoshima?”

“……”

He couldn’t answer immediately. He was too busy being surprised by multiple things at once.

First, just like Shouko had said, they were going to have a date.

And second, both potential dates were in the same place.

He had no way of knowing if Shouko had picked that spot in full knowledge of this fact, but it seemed likely she had.

“Sakuta?”

“The jellyfish at the aquarium might be better.”

“The thing from the train ads?”

The aquarium was a short walk from Katase-Enoshima Station, and in recent years, they’d started putting lights in the jellyfish tank for the holidays and were advertising it heavily.

“Yes, that. Kept seeing the ads and got curious.”

“Sakuta, do you even like jellyfish?”

“I think I would if I saw them with you.”

“Ah. So an aquarium date, then. I’ll be going straight there from work, so…meeting outside the aquarium should attract less attention than the station.”

“Probably, yeah. But if you put in any kind of effort for my sake, you’ll attract attention no matter where you are.”

“Then definitely in front of the aquarium,” Mai said, laughing off his attempt at baiting her. Mai knew perfectly well she could easily surpass his highest expectations. That was what she did. “Will six work?”

“I, uh…”

He hesitated, remembering what Shouko had said. She would also be waiting for him at six.

But that wasn’t a reason to change the time.

It was Sakuta’s job to choose. Following up on that choice was the only thing he could do here. Even if the day arrived and he felt conflicted or guilty, at six o’clock on December 24, he would be standing in front of the aquarium. When Mai arrived, he’d compliment her outfit, and they’d go see the lit-up jellyfish, say, “Kind of gross, but also beautiful,” and enjoy their date as couples do.

That was what Sakuta could do. The only thing he could do for Mai, and for Shouko.

“Then I’ll see you at six?” Mai said.

“Yes,” he said firmly.

He loved Mai. She was the one who mattered most. That was all the reason he needed.

“I can’t wait to see what present you get me!”

“Oh, so the date isn’t good enough?”

They’d reached the residential area, so their voices were lower now. Mai had her head down, blushing a bit, not quite meeting his eye, but they kept the banter going all the way back home.

4

“Wait, why are you here, senpai?”

It was Sunday, December 14. Sakuta had come in to work, changed into his server uniform, and hit the floor, where he ran into the petite devil.

“Did you have a shift today?” she asked, shooting him a baffled look.

Tomoe Koga was a first-year student at his high school. She had short, fluffed-out hair and wore light makeup that was very “modern schoolgirl.” A good match for the cuteness of the girls’ uniforms here. He’d heard more than a few male customers talking about how cute she was.

“Replacing Kunimi.”

“There is no way you could ever do that.”

She clearly meant this.

“You know that one older lady who works here sometimes? She just looked at me and shook her head, saying, ‘I was hoping it would be Yuuma,’ so…cut me some slack.”

Sakuta had not expected Yuuma to conquer the silver-haired staff, too, but neither age nor gender could escape the gravitational pull of his gentle smile. It was so not fair.

“I just assumed you didn’t have enough money to buy Sakurajima a Christmas present and were loading up on shifts as a result.”

“That wouldn’t get me the money in time.”

“I didn’t say it was a good plan.”

“How dumb do you think I am?”

“Do you have a present for her yet?”

“No money to buy one.”

“Oh my God.”

There’d been a series of unexpected expenses. That surprise trip to Kanazawa had really hurt. His paycheck had been deposited on the tenth, and nearly all of it had gone to paying back what Mai had lent him. And now he was going to have to pay for Kaede’s makeover. There was nothing left to spend on a Christmas gift.

“Say, Koga…”

“I’m not giving you anything.”

She was way ahead of him. And she’d said giving instead of lending. She knew him too well.

“Stingy.”

“You’re gonna end up tied to Mai’s apron strings,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“That’s my superstring theory.”

“Your what?”

“I see advanced physics jokes are beyond you.”

“As if you understand them.”

“I know I never will, which is all I really need to understand.”

Once, he’d flipped through a book Rio was reading when he stopped by the science lab, but he hadn’t even been able to follow the basic premise. Actually, he hadn’t even made it that far—he’d started reading a passage marked “Before We Begin,” made it halfway through the page, and quietly closed the book.

Leave the tricky subjects to the smart people. He just had to focus on things he could actually do. It had been an important life lesson.

He needed to focus not on unraveling superstring theory and understanding the nature of the universe, but on how to get through a Christmas Eve in which both Mai and Shouko had asked him out. He’d made his choice there and would just have to act accordingly.

And since his mind was made up, nothing mattered more than looking forward to enjoying that date with Mai. Unreservedly.

“Did you get good news or something?”

“Huh?”

“You’re grinning. And usually this is where you call me cheeky and then start harassing me.”

“I do not.”

Tomoe was really perceptive about these things. She kept a close eye on everyone around her and picked up on changes fast. If she was asking a question like that, it was a good sign. If he looked like good things were happening, that meant he really did feel like they were.

Here he was, caught in a dilemma, forced to make an impossible choice—but that wasn’t so tragic after all. One was his current girlfriend, and the other his first love. It was ridiculous to agonize over it.

Christmas Eve was a special day that came only once a year. Especially for couples. And there were two girls who said they wanted to spend that day with him. How lucky was that?

“Something going on with you?”

“Huh? Why?”

“Your upper arms are thicker.”

“They are not!”

“Oh, they were always like this?”

“You’re so mean!”

Tomoe hugged herself and turned aside, shielding her arms from view.

“You’re terribad! Terridactyl bad!”

“Welp, enough chitchat! Time for work!”

“I’m gonna lose weight and make you say sorry!”

“If you do, I’ll treat you to a parfait.”

They had a special going for a jumbo-sized strawberry-laden calorie bomb of a parfait. Tomoe would love it.

“Then I’d be fat again!”

He lived to please.

Sakuta worked his shift, stopping only to tease Tomoe, and punched out twenty minutes after the scheduled five o’clock end time. Just as he’d been about to go, a large party had rolled in, and they’d been busy getting their orders taken and delivered.

He changed back into street clothes, and by the time he left the restaurant, it was five thirty. Sakuta set off for the hospital where Shouko was staying, on foot.

He got caught in a sudden shower on the way and barely made it in the doors before visiting hours ended—it was 5:55. You couldn’t exactly run in the hospital, so he headed to her room at a normal walking pace.

As he passed the nurses’ station, he bowed his head. They all knew him by sight now.

“You’ve only got three minutes!” one of them said. The rules were the rules. But from the look in her eye, they were prepared to bend them a bit. “Hurry!”

Sakuta bobbed his head again and went straight on down the hall. Her room was up ahead. He could see the door.

He was still a good ten yards away from it when it opened a crack. A head poked out and peered down the hall—Shouko. She looked worried, but when she saw Sakuta walking toward her, she let out a cry, and a huge smile bloomed on her face.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“N-no, you’re early!” Not an accurate response.

“That’s not even close to being true. Visiting hours are almost over.”

“Early and late are minor details. What matters is that you came.”

She flung the door open, waving him in. Her voice and expression were cheery, but she was pushing an IV stand around and wasn’t exactly spry on her feet.

“……”

She really wasn’t doing well.

“Hokay,” Shouko grunted, heaving herself back into bed. Sakuta wasn’t sure if it was a result of her condition or the long hospital stay, but she was noticeably deteriorating physically. Her pajamas seemed much baggier.

He took his perch on the stool and scanned the room’s interior. Looking at Shouko was making his spirits flag. He noticed a familiar homework assignment on the bedside table and reached for it.

“Ah!”

For a moment, Shouko seemed upset. Like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have, but he’d already seen this. The Future Schedule she’d written in grade school. And hadn’t been able to complete, so she’d taken it home…

He opened it up and glanced down at the page.

“Hmm?”

This noise was prompted by a new note that hadn’t been there a few days before.

Agree to a big date on Christmas Eve.

This had been added to the college student section.

Like the others, it appeared to have been there all along. What was going on here?

The day the older Shouko had made her shocking confession, Sakuta had asked her about this piece of paper. They’d figured her pulling a prank was the most likely explanation for it. But she denied everything.

“What would be the point of me doing something like that?”

Fair enough, he thought. This printout was always in the hospital room, and if big Shouko wanted to add something to it, she’d have to sneak in there somehow. Getting in and out multiple times without anyone spotting her would require skills like a movie spy.

He’d talked to Rio as well, but she’d just said, “I don’t really know,” and thrown her hands up. But she had said that big Shouko’s actions were almost certainly connected—based purely on what was being added. Sakuta had reached the same conclusion.

“Another new entry,” he said.

“Y-yes. It’s still happening…”

Shouko was acting like that was a bad thing. She was staring at her hands, clearly not wanting to talk about the schedule assignment. As he wondered why, there was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Shouko said, and the nurse poked her head in. The same one from earlier.

“I’m going to make the rounds and check the other rooms. You’ve got until then,” she announced.

This was a roundabout way of telling them visiting hours were over. The clock showed it was after six.

“Then by all means, take your time.”

“Afraid I can’t do that,” she said, laughing.

The nurse headed off down the hall. She did, indeed, move at the exact same speed she always did.

“I’ll try to get here earlier tomorrow.”

“Uh, about that, Sakuta…”

Shouko trailed off, a shadow passing over her face. She hung her head, her gaze fixed on her hands.

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve known for a while I had to tell you, but…”

The anxious look in her eyes meant he could guess what this was about, and he was probably right.

“My condition…isn’t good.”

Her voice was quiet but clear. He could sense her desire to communicate this properly.

“……”

“By which I mean…it’s pretty bad.”

It felt like someone had attached a weight to his heart. Like his whole body was sinking into the floor.

“Mm,” he managed.

“The medicine they’re giving me is helping me manage for now, but…that can’t go on forever.”

“Yeah…”

“So, uh…”

As if summoning all her courage, Shouko cleared her throat and looked him right in the eye. Then she took a deep breath, eyes burning with resolve.

“Don’t come to see me anymore,” she said with a smile.

A bright, sunny smile. It was so picture perfect most would think she didn’t have a care in the world.

How much courage did Shouko’s little body have stuffed inside it? She must be scared to death. How could she find it in herself to worry about him?

Shouko was forced to say good-bye with a smile because she was thinking of him. The more he met her, the greater—and deeper—his grief would be when she was really gone. There was no way for them to go back to being strangers, but she was saying this in the hopes of lessening his pain in any way she could. Worrying only about what would happen to him once she was no longer here. This frail, tiny little girl…still only in her first year of junior high.

How could Shouko manage to shoulder so much all by herself? The world wasn’t fair. It was so messed up, it wasn’t even worth grumbling about.

But that made Sakuta’s answer all the more obvious. He could leave the hard questions to the smart people. He just had to do the things he could do. Even here, there was something he could do. Something he could understand without needing to study.

He took a silent breath. Then he said, “Nah.”

Just like he always did. With those same listless, dead eyes. No trace of enthusiasm in his voice. As if they were making routine small talk.

“Huh?” Shouko blinked at him. He didn’t blame her. She’d summoned a lifetime of courage, and he’d dismissed it out of hand.

“I’ll be here tomorrow and the day after,” he said before she could recover. “Maybe there will be a few days when work keeps me away, but otherwise I’ll be here every day until you get out.”

If big Shouko hadn’t told him what the future held, he might not have been capable of responding this way.

But she’d also said he came to see her every day. That Sakuta hadn’t known the future, and he’d done it anyway. And Sakuta knew the future, so there was no way he was gonna do any less.

“But I…” Shouko’s voice shook. “I—!”

She was still trying to argue with him.

“It’s fine,” he said, slowly getting to his feet. He took a step closer to the bed and put one hand on her head. “Makinohara, you did great.”

“…Um?”

She blinked up at him, clearly not sure what that meant.

“You did great!”

Not letting her fears show on her face.

“You really hung in there.”

Doing everything she could to keep her parents from worrying.

“You’ve worked so hard.”

She must have been terrified, but she smiled brightly, thanked everyone, and did everything in her power to let them know how happy she’d been.

“All this time, you’ve been working harder than anyone.”

She’d smiled every time he came to see her. Even today.

“…Sakuta,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. She was undoubtedly trying to fight them back. Stop them spilling over. So she could keep on being happy Shouko Makinohara, loved by everyone.

And there was no way Sakuta was going to let her. Shouko deserved better. If she didn’t get it, it was the world that was wrong.

“So you don’t have to anymore.”

This made her tears well up again.

“But…I…I…” Her voice shook. The next words stuck in her throat.

“You don’t have to work so damn hard.”

“!”

Her body shook.

“I… I want…”

She screwed up her eyes. Big tears struck the sheets, and the levees could no longer hold back the surging wave of her emotions.

“I never wanted to be sick!”

Her true feelings, out in the open at last. No one would dream of criticizing her for it. The tears flowed free, and she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest.

“I wanted to be like everyone else,” she sobbed.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Why did it have to be me?”

“Exactly.”

“I want to live…”

“……”

“I want to live, too!”

“Yeah.”

“To live and…and…”

All this time, Shouko had been unable to let these feelings out. Hadn’t let herself do that. It would upset the grown-ups around her. Make them sad. Make her a burden, a problem. So…

“I just… I…”

“……”

“I want…”

Her voice was too choked with sobs for words to form. But these weren’t feelings that could be expressed in words. Some could only be expressed in tears. Could only take the form of sobs. Feelings too strong and powerful to come out any other way. Her hands clutched his clothes, shaking and telling him more than mere words ever could.

“I don’t…”

“I’ll be fine.”

“……”

“I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“…Sakuta.”

“And the day after.”

She let out a ragged gasp, trying to stop herself from sobbing.

“Maybe there will be a few days when work keeps me away.”

“……”

“But otherwise I’ll be here every day until you get out.”

“…Really?”

Her voice was hoarse. With her nose clogged up, she sounded much younger than usual.

“Really.”

“…Sakuta.”

She was still sniffling a little, but she managed to let go of him.

“…You promise?”

“I do.”

“Pinkie swear?”

Shouko held up her little hand. Sakuta hooked his pinkie around hers.

“This is more awkward than I thought,” she said, smiling sheepishly. Like she was trying to hide just how much it was really getting to her.

Sakuta plucked two tissues from the box on the side table and handed them to her. He’d meant for her to dry her tears, but she blew her nose instead.

This made him laugh out loud.

“What?” she said, blinking up at him. When he said nothing, she started laughing, too.

Even if just for that one moment, he hoped her fears were banished. If Sakuta had managed that feat, he’d done a decent job. He’d be thoroughly satisfied with his accomplishments.

“Okay, visiting hours are over!” the nurse said, like she’d been waiting for the right moment. Her voice had an “acting” quality to it, so perhaps she’d been listening from outside. From the look she gave him, she definitely had. That was definitely a “Well done” look.

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Shouko said, and she waved good-bye with a smile.

He raised a hand to wave back, and as he did…

“……!”

…she let out a little gasp, and a shadow passed over her face. Both hands snapped to her chest, squeezing tight like she was fighting something back.

Then she toppled over on the bed, writhing in pain.

Her lips moved like she was trying to say something, but only a rasp came out. This all happened in mere seconds.

“Move aside!” the nurse said, pushing Sakuta out of the way and hitting the nurse call button.

“What is it?” came a voice from the speaker.

“Sudden change in Makinohara’s condition,” she said, her voice calm.

Then she called Shouko’s name a few times, trying to get a response.

As she did, two doctors in white coats came rushing in. They were maybe midforties and midthirties, respectively. Three nurses came after them. The hospital room was now swarming with medical staff.

There was no room for Sakuta near the bed, and he ended up with his back pressed up against the far wall.

The older doctor quickly examined Shouko and said, “Secure an operating room and call her family. She needs to be moved to the ICU.” Two nurses ran out, and another nurse came in with a stretcher.

Following the doctor’s instructions, they moved Shouko’s tiny body onto the stretcher and hustled her out of the room.

It all unfolded at dizzying speeds. Sakuta could do nothing but stand there and watch. A normal high school kid couldn’t help here. Doing nothing was all he could do. But doing nothing made him anxious, which led to panic and then outright fear.

Doing nothing was destroying him. He knew Shouko would get her transplant and be saved. But even with that knowledge, the tension in the room was so great, it felt like a vise was tightening around him. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if Shouko had been wrong and the future she’d promised might not come. Sakuta had never seen anyone writhing in pain like Shouko had, and it left him with a storm of emotions raging inside.

Without really thinking, he took a step toward the hall to follow her stretcher.

He made it a couple of steps, but as he took a third, a sudden pain shot across his chest. It raced from the inside out.

“…Owww,” he groaned. He’d almost passed out from the first wave, but he somehow held on. His vision narrowed. Sound drained away. Unable to stand upright, he staggered, leaning against the wall of the corridor. Then he slid down it and collapsed on the floor in a ball.

There was something on the hand that had clutched his chest. Something unpleasant, something wrong. He looked down and saw red. Fresh blood was seeping through his shirt.

He managed to lift his head enough to see Shouko’s stretcher disappearing down the hall. But he couldn’t hear the wheels squeaking or the doctors and nurses talking. The ache in his chest was all he could feel. It snatched everything else away from him.

“What’s going on…?”

The pain dominating his mind infuriated and baffled him.

The scars on his chest were a sign of his regrets and inadequacy two years ago, when he’d failed to save Kaede. He’d always imagined his Adolescence Syndrome had arrived to punish him for failing to save his sister.

“Then why now?”

He didn’t know.

What was happening at the hospital had nothing to do with Kaede—either Kaede. Shouko’s attack had obviously come as a shock, but…he knew she would survive. Big Shouko had told him what the future had in store. Either way, it was too early to start regretting anything.

So…

“…Why?”

He didn’t get it.

But the pain was telling him something else.

Maybe he’d been very wrong.

Maybe the scars on his chest weren’t what he’d originally thought.

With that possibility whispering in the back of his mind, Sakuta’s consciousness faded, and the world went black.

5

He heard lapping waves in the distance.

The sound came closer, rising toward his feet, like the ocean’s very existence was seeping into the fabric of his entire body.

The waves crested inches from his toes and pulled away.

When he finally registered what he was seeing, Sakuta realized he was standing on the beach.

The familiar sights of Shichirigahama. Enoshima a silhouette against the red sky of sunset. The sea breeze felt good. The surf surprisingly loud. All of it felt very real.

But this was a dream.

Somehow he knew that.

He’d been having these dreams less often. Dreams of two years ago, when he met high school Shouko.

This was one of them. As proof of that, he heard her voice.

“Wanna kiss?”

Big Shouko was standing three steps away. In a Minegahara uniform, just as she had two years ago. Little Shouko, now in high school.

“No thanks,” he said curtly.

“Don’t worry—I brushed my teeth.”

“They taught me in grade school you shouldn’t kiss total strangers.”

“They didn’t teach me that.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“Heh-heh, then why say they did?”

They were laughing together.

“But, Sakuta…”

“What?”

“Did I make your heart race?”

There was a triumphant smile on her face. Delighting in tormenting junior high Sakuta.

“It makes the wounds on my chest throb, so don’t get me too worked up.”

“You got worked up because a total stranger asked you to kiss?”

“……”

“That’s a little strange.”

Shouko leaned forward a bit so she could look up at him. The wind caught her hair, and it spilled off her shoulders.

“It’s a basic male response.”

“Is that all?”

She was being very persistent.

“That’s all.”

“And yet you come to see me almost every day.”

“I come to see the ocean.”

“Oh?”

“What are you driving at?”

“I wanna make you say it.”

“……”

“Okay, fine,” she said, sticking out her tongue. “I am, too,” she added, like it was a big deal.

“You are what?”

“Getting worked up because I’m with you.”

She had an impish grin that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing, but Sakuta’s heart still leaped out of his chest.

“Seriously, quit making my wounds hurt. If they start bleeding again, I can’t tell anyone why, and it’s a real problem.”

Just to be sure, he took a look down his shirt. The telltale gouges were still covered in scabs, healing. Red, but not bleeding.

“You’re fine.”

“……”

How would she know? He almost snapped at her. But he couldn’t do that. There was an unmistakable tenderness in her voice. She was trying to reassure him. And she sounded weirdly confident as well. At the very least, Shouko believed he really was fine. She wouldn’t say it like that otherwise.

“You’ll get better.”

Her voice came right next to his ear, warming his entire body.

“Yeah, I mean…eventually.”

It would be bad otherwise. But Shouko shook her head. Twice, quietly.

“The wounds in your heart and on your chest? I’ll heal both of them.”

Her smile was far too gentle. It was like being wrapped in the warmth of the spring sun.

He caught himself staring and awkwardly tore his eyes away.

“What does that even mean?” he muttered.

So he didn’t notice.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be there for you.”

This sounded a lot like what she’d said before, so Sakuta didn’t realize what she meant.

He just focused on trying to calm his racing heart. Hanging on for dear life and trying to slow it down.

When his eyes opened, a white ceiling was staring impassively down at him.

Long fluorescent lights.

When he was sure this was reality and that he was on a hospital bed, the pain in his chest throbbed. He looked down and found himself wrapped in a slew of bandages.

He remembered passing out. Crumpling over from the pain in the hall, and the next thing he knew, he was here.

“Sakuta,” a voice said. Shouko leaned in from the side of the bed. Big Shouko. Wearing glasses and a knit hat. Sakuta’s head was strangely clear, and he could tell right away this was a disguise she’d donned to slip into the hospital unnoticed.

“You’re in the hospital. You remember that?”

“…Yeah.”

“I got a call saying you suddenly collapsed… You gave me quite a fright.”

“……”

She looked worried, but he just stared at her without a word.

“Sakuta?”

His hand moved to the bandages on his chest.

“I had a dream.”

“You did?”

“About two years ago…”

“……”

“Around when I first met you.”

“Oh…”

“Same thing was happening then.”

“……”

“The wounds had opened on my chest, and…”

Sakuta was choosing his words carefully, his thoughts circling, but he was oddly certain he was closing in on an answer.

He’d realized something but wasn’t conscious of it yet. But he’d accepted what his body was telling him. All this time, he’d been sure the wounds were caused by Kaede’s bullying and the regret that he hadn’t protected her, a way of punishing himself for his inability to act. The time lines had added up, and he’d been only too well aware of how distraught he’d been. There’d been no evidence to contradict that theory. It had simply seemed to be the most likely explanation.

But it didn’t explain the changes in him over the last few days. Certainly, Shouko’s deterioration had affected him, but he knew she would be saved. So why had the wounds on his chest reopened?

Two years ago, he’d met Shouko not long after they first appeared.

Two years later, when he’d been grieving the loss of hiragana Kaede, they’d opened again. But that was probably just a coincidence. Who had he met moments later?

“……”

The woman warmly watching over him.

Sakuta was already sure no other answer fit. His body was screaming it at him. His very pulse bellowing.

So he spoke without surprise, confusion, fear, anxiety, or the slightest trace of hope.

“It’s my heart that’s inside you, isn’t it?”

“……”

Shouko’s eyes slowly closed. And then she nodded slightly, confirming it.

“I thought you’d figure it out,” she said. She put her hands to her chest. “You gave me a future.”

Her eyes were glistening. Quite a lot of conflicted emotions there. Gratitude, but also heartbreak and grief. All these feelings tangled together, so mixed up it was impossible to tell where each one began.

“……”

“……”

Neither knew what to say next.

Then there was a noise coming from the hall.

“……?”

Both turned toward the door.

“Oh…,” Sakuta said.

Mai was standing there. White as a sheet.

“What does that mean?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Her words echoed quietly through the hospital room.