After the Empty Box: Echoes of Maria and the Whereabouts of the Everyday - Serves you right.

Morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains in a thin, pale line. Hoshino Kazuki lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling for a while. White ceiling. The familiar stain. His room, unchanged in every way. (...Is it really unchanged?) He sat up. His left shoulder creaked faintly. The pain from that night—when he'd been thrown against the wreckage of the clock in the classroom—had almost entirely faded. But somewhere deep in his body, a sensation like something caught, snagged, still hadn't disappeared. He picked up the smartphone beside his bed and turned on the screen. April fifth, Saturday. The day of the opening ceremony. Kazuki opened his contacts list. Usui Haruaki. Oomine Daiya. Otonashi Maria. Otonashi Saya. And Kirino Kokone. He traced the name with his fingertip. (Kokone's name is here.) That night, her name had been on the verge of vanishing. A girl who had nearly been erased from the world. Now her name existed, unmistakably, on the screen of his phone. But a small thorn remained lodged deep in Kazuki's chest. (Something is missing.) A promise he had exchanged with Kokone. What it had been, he simply could not remember. The outline of the memory had a hole in it, gaping and empty. Kazuki exhaled deeply. (For now, that's fine.) He slid the phone into his pocket and pulled on his uniform. Wearing it again after so long felt slightly constricting. When he went downstairs, a note from his mother lay on the table. *Breakfast's in the fridge. Good luck at the opening ceremony.* Kazuki opened the refrigerator and took out a sandwich wrapped in plastic. Then, from the cupboard, an Umaibo. *Crunch.* The dry sound echoed through the quiet kitchen. "...Nothing special about today." He muttered it to no one in particular and bit into the Umaibo. The usual taste. The usual morning. Just that much, and his heart settled, little by little. When he stepped outside, the air was full of spring. He passed through the residential streets of Minase City, walking the route to Prefectural Minase High School. Cherry trees along both sides of the road had begun to bloom, pale pink petals fluttering down on the breeze. Students on bicycles overtook him one after another. Here and there he spotted what looked like new students in fresh uniforms, all wearing expressions somewhere between anticipation and unease, as though they couldn't quite keep their feet on the ground. Kazuki watched the scene from the corner of his eye and kept walking. (Second year, starting today.) No class shuffle. Still Class 2-3, same classroom, same faces. (...Will it really be the same faces?) He asked himself that, deep in his chest. While that clock had been stopped, there were people who had vanished from this world. Kokone had come back. But there might be others—people Kazuki hadn't even noticed—who were still gone. (No. Stop thinking about it.) Kazuki shook his head. Today was the opening ceremony. The day ordinary life began again. Nothing more, nothing less. When he passed through the school gate, the cherry tree by the main entrance glowed white in the morning light. Kazuki stopped walking. The cherry tree he'd seen from the classroom window that day. The one beneath which someone had seemed to stand the moment the clock stopped. Now, no one was there. Only petals, drifting quietly down. Kazuki started walking again. He entered the school building and changed his shoes. In the hallway, the faint smell of dust that had accumulated over spring break hung in the air. He climbed the stairs to the second floor. His heart beat a little faster. (Will Kokone be there?) That night, after the wreckage of the clock had shattered, Kazuki had stared at Kokone's desk. She would come back—he had believed it. But until he confirmed it with his own eyes, he couldn't know for certain whether she truly had. He stood before the door of Class 2-3. Kazuki put his hand on the doorknob. The cold touch of metal. He drew a breath. *Rattle.* He opened the door. Morning light filled the classroom. The light pouring through the windows cast long shadows across the floor. The lockers along the wall, the blackboard, the teacher's podium. Everything was exactly as it had been before spring break. And at the back of the classroom. The desk in the second row from the windows. Kirino Kokone was sitting there. Bright chestnut semi-long hair. The ends flipping up, just as always. Her large amber eyes narrowed in delight. On her left wrist, a friendship bracelet—matching ones with her friends—swayed as she moved. She was laughing with the girl at the next desk, both hands clasped in front of her chest, leaning forward eagerly. "Hey hey, where'd you go over spring break? Me, I went to Minase Port with my family! At the morning market, we bought this huge basket clam!" That voice. Bright, bouncing, the kind of voice that made you feel energized just hearing it. Kazuki stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move. (Kokone is here.) She was really there. Laughing. Talking. Alive. Something deep in Kazuki's chest grew warm, seeping through him. That was when it happened. Kokone happened to look up. Her gaze met Kazuki's, straight on. For an instant, her face went blank with surprise. Then, the very next moment— She broke into a smile, bright as a flower blooming. "Oh—Kazuki! Morning, Hoshino!" She waved her hand wide. The gesture was so natural, so utterly ordinary. Kazuki felt like he might cry. (Morning, huh.) Slowly, he began walking toward Kokone's desk. One step, then another. His legs trembled faintly. Kokone tilted her head at his expression. "...What's wrong, Kazuki? You're making a weird face." Kazuki stood before her. He looked straight into her face. Chestnut hair. Amber eyes. The small dimple that appeared when she smiled. Everything was the Kirino Kokone in his memory. "...Kokone." He forced the word out. His throat burned. "What? You're being all formal." Kokone laughed as she said it. "Feels like it's been forever, you know?" Those words squeezed Kazuki's chest tight. (Been forever, huh.) She remembered nothing. Not that she had disappeared. Not that Kazuki had fought to protect her name. And yet she'd said, "Feels like it's been forever." Even without the memory, something remained in her. Kazuki looked down. Tears threatened to spill. "...Welcome back." That was all he said. His voice was shaking. Kokone looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled, a little embarrassed. "What's that supposed to mean? You're so weird. I've been here the whole time." "...Yeah. I know." Kazuki forced a smile. (That's enough. That's enough.) Kokone was here. That alone was enough. The opening ceremony was held in the gymnasium. Listening to the principal's long speech, Kazuki glanced at Haruaki's profile beside him. Usui Haruaki, his brown curly hair as bed-head-messy as ever, was stifling a huge yawn. The triple piercing in his right ear caught the gymnasium lights and glinted faintly. "...Hey, Kazuki." Haruaki spoke in a low voice. "Hm?" "Kokone was there. Really there." His tone was as light as ever. But his eyes held something serious. "Yeah." Kazuki nodded slightly. "She was. She was really there." "Good." Haruaki let out a small laugh. "Glad to hear it." That one word made Kazuki's chest grow warm again. "...Yeah." Kazuki faced forward. The high ceiling of the gymnasium. The large clock hanging from it. The hands moved quietly. (The clock is moving.) A matter of course. But to Kazuki, nothing could have made him happier. When the opening ceremony ended, the students filed back to their classrooms. Kazuki entered the classroom and looked first at the wall clock. Eleven twenty-three in the morning. The second hand ticked forward, *tick, tick.* (It's not stopped.) Kazuki felt relief wash over him. The slip of paper that had been wedged behind the clock had shattered that night. The wreckage of the box had been destroyed. The clock would never stop again. (I want to believe that.) Kazuki sat down at his desk. Outside the window, cherry petals danced in the wind. "Hoshino." A cold voice came from behind him. He turned. Oomine Daiya stood there. Black hair parted neatly in a precise seven-to-three ratio. His cold, ash-blue eyes looked down at Kazuki as though appraising him. The old ring on his left middle finger caught the light from the window and glowed dully. "...Daiya." Kazuki murmured low. Daiya sat down noiselessly at the desk beside him. "The clock won't stop again, I expect." He glanced at the wall clock and spoke flatly. "The wreckage of the box was completely destroyed. The wish that resided in that slip of paper should have been annihilated." "...Coming from you, I can't just take that at face value." Kazuki spoke with caution. Daiya's mouth twisted faintly. "Heh... You never change, Hoshino." He looked away from Kazuki, out at the cherry blossoms beyond the window. "But remember this. There won't be a next time." In his voice was contempt, and mixed with it, just a faint trace of something else. Kazuki studied Daiya's profile. (No next time, huh.) He hadn't abandoned his ideology of selection. He had eliminated the wreckage of the box as a "distortion of the world"—not to protect Kazuki's everyday life, but to protect his own ideal world. And yet, that night, Daiya had indeed cooperated with Kazuki. "It's to protect your everyday life." Whether those words had been a lie or his true feelings— Kazuki still didn't know. "...Daiya." Kazuki called out to him. "What." "...Thank you." Kazuki said it briefly. Daiya's movement stopped for just an instant. Then he let out a faint, cold laugh. "There's no reason for you to thank me. I acted solely for my own purposes." With that, Daiya stood. "The next time we meet, we may be enemies, Hoshino." He turned his back on Kazuki and walked toward the classroom exit. Kazuki watched him go. (Enemies, huh.) His conflict with Daiya was far from over. As long as Daiya refused to abandon his ideology of selection, the day would inevitably come when they would have to settle things. But that day was not today. Today was still an ordinary day. "Kazuki!" Haruaki clapped him on the shoulder. "What're you staring after him for? Did Daiya say something again?" Haruaki sat down beside Kazuki with his usual easy manner. "No, nothing important." Kazuki shook his head. "Right." Haruaki grinned. His canine tooth flashed white. "Anyway, for now—don't worry about it." He clapped Kazuki's shoulder again. "We're the strongest, aren't we." Kazuki couldn't help but laugh. "...What kind of line is that?" "I mean, we smashed that weird clock, didn't we? We're pretty impressive, honestly." Haruaki's smile held none of the guilt or fear from that night. There was only the face of a friend who had chosen to stand beside Kazuki. "...Yeah." Kazuki smiled back. "We're the strongest." After lunch break ended, in the time before the afternoon homeroom began, Kazuki sat at his desk gazing out the window. Cherry petals fluttered down. In the schoolyard, new students were being scouted by clubs, looking around uncertainly. (It's peaceful.) Kazuki murmured inwardly. How precious this unremarkable scenery was. He knew it now, in his bones, because he had faced the wreckage of that clock. "Hoshino Kazuki." A quiet voice came from beside him. He turned. Otonashi Saya stood there. Long silver hair reaching to her waist. Pale blue eyes like ice. She extended her hand toward Kazuki, smoothly. "Saya..." Kazuki took her hand. Saya's hand was as cold as ever. But it was different from that night. There was a definite warmth there, not just coldness. Saya gripped Kazuki's hand once, firmly. "You were not alone." She spoke the same words as that night, once more. Kazuki looked s

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Episode 7

Name: After the Empty Box: Echoes of Maria and the Whereabouts of the Everyday
Author: Novelia

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