Chapter 2: The Battle Is Joined

Taichi and the others headed to Rec Hall Room 401, the CRC clubroom, with a highly unstable Kurihara in tow. At first they thought perhaps the phenomenon was what had rattled her so deeply, but evidently Kurihara had grown so obsessed with her search for Oosawa that she had stopped thinking straight. Thus, she needed some time to compose herself.

Taichi and Aoki were the first to reach the clubroom door. It was unlocked.

“Wait... Did they just make a friggin’ carbon copy of the real world? Or is this actually still the real world and we’re just stuck here?”

Indeed, this alternate-universe clubroom was identical to the way they had left it. After they entered, Nagase, Inaba, Enjouji, and Chihiro all followed.

“Y’know, I thought I had the whole school memorized, but the clubroom really is in a league of its own.”

“If we’re going to have a discussion, let’s have it here. I doubt anyone will come and interrupt us.”

“Yes, I agree! It feels like a safe zone, doesn’t it?”

“You’d better hope so...”

Lastly, Kiriyama entered the room, pulling Kurihara by the hand.

“Come on in, Yukina. After you’ve had a minute to catch your breath, you can feel free to go find the track team if you...”

Without warning, Kurihara came to a sudden stop, jerking Kiriyama backwards slightly.

“Look, Yukina, you don’t have to—”

“...Well, look who we have here...”

Suddenly, Kurihara was speaking very differently.

Almost as if... she was someone else altogether.

With slumped shoulders and a dead look in her eyes, her bleached hair and fashionable style all went to waste. Someone... something... had possessed her.

“Who’s there?!” Taichi shouted, focusing all of his attention on [her]. Which one of them was it? If it was «The Third», there was no telling what it might try to pull.

“Oh, don’t worry... I’m on your side...?”

“So... you’re here to explain the situation? You?” Inaba asked cautiously.

“Yeah...?”

Its voice was light and airy, the polar opposite of firm. This was «The Second», and fittingly for its designation, this was the «Heartseed» that spoke to them with almost the same frequency as... well... «Heartseed». In that sense, perhaps they should have seen this coming.

Fortunately, «The Second» had already promised it wasn’t going to do anything to them.

“Well, I’d like it very much if you did. There’s just so much we don’t know... Honestly, I was getting tired of waiting for «Heartseed» to show up, so you’ll do.”

Meanwhile, the two first-years whispered among themselves:

“Is this the one they told us about...?”

“Y-You mean... «The Second»-san...?”

For Chihiro and Enjouji, it was their first encounter with «The Second», and yet they weren’t afraid—just mildly surprised. This stuff just didn’t register as scary anymore.

All this time, «Heartseed» was their archnemesis. But now it was cooperating with the CRC to defeat a common enemy, and indeed, it was standing shoulder to shoulder with them when they departed for the Isolation Zone. Sure, it had yet to show itself thus far, but they all figured it would turn up eventually. And yet «The Second» turned up instead.

«The Second» was in some way affiliated with the CRC’s current enemy, «The Third»’s group. But it waffled back and forth between both factions, never committing to one or the other.

“I showed up because... «Heartseed» might not be able to...?”

This shook Taichi to the core. «Heartseed» can’t make it?

“Why wouldn’t...?”

He couldn’t even finish his question. It was just that unbelievable.

“Don’t ask me... It seems like he’s dealing with a lot right now...?”

Frankly speaking, a lot of their plans hinged on «Heartseed»’s presence. After all, it was the one who had convinced them to enter the Isolation Zone to see if they could help, and now that they were inside, they needed to discuss their strategy. So where was it?

The rest of the CRC seemed to be just as stunned as he was.

“Without your memories... you change a lot... Almost like the old you dies...?”

Admittedly, a drastic loss of self could be compared to death, in a sense.

“...So that happened to «Heartseed»?” Nagase asked in a timid, wavering voice.

“I’m not sure...? But the possibility is there... I guess?”

Was «Heartseed» gone for good? Did «The Third»’s group erase its memories, the way they were apparently planning to? But then, wouldn’t that mean that the CRC’s memories were wiped, too?

Body-swap, Liberation... Nope, it’s all here...

“Hold on a minute. I don’t really care what happened to it, but... can we really tackle this thing without it...?”

Even Inaba was starting to panic.

“Who knows...?” Evidently «The Second» had no interest in answering that sort of question.

“But... you’re going to help us get a grasp of the situation, right?”

[Kurihara] nodded. “Yeah... seeing as «Heartseed» asked me to...?”

So «Heartseed» sent «The Second»? Was this proof that «Heartseed» sincerely couldn’t show itself for whatever reason?

«The Second» walked a fine line between enemy and friend, and it was unclear how much they could trust it... but right now, they didn’t have a lot of other options. So Inaba launched into a series of rapid-fire questions.

“First, I’d like to ask about the Isolation Zone itself. We can’t leave, we can’t get any kind of signal in or out, and the weather and whatnot is all carefully controlled to be as comfortable as possible. But what are we going to do about food, for example? And for that matter, what’s going on back in the real world? How much time has passed since we left? Are people freaking out about it? Will we make it back safely?”

The seven CRC members sat in their chairs, facing the doorway where «The Second» remained standing. But instead of answering the questions, it started to complain.

“...That’s a lot of questions...? Is this what «Heartseed» has to deal with every time...?”

“Look, are you filling in for «Heartseed» or not?” Inaba pressed.

«The Second»’s body swayed to and fro as it glanced around. Almost like it was visibly waffling between “yes” and “no.” Eventually, the swaying seemed to stop at “yes.”

“You don’t need to worry about... the real world... That’s how this is designed... When you go back... it’ll be the same time it was before...? Oh, and yes... once this is all over, you’ll go back, safe and sound...? You aren’t going to be trapped here permanently... Definitely not...”

“So no time has passed in the real world?” Taichi muttered. He was glad to know that their absence wasn’t causing some mass panic, but at the same time, it felt like a sign that they were in it for the long haul.

“What else... You can’t leave, you can’t contact the outside world... Also, you can’t get hurt, and you can’t die of hunger or dehydration...?”

“How does that work...?” Kiriyama murmured in disbelief.

“S-So we’re all invincible now?!” Enjouji shouted. “Or... or is this a virtual world in a computer, or...?!”

This reminded Taichi of something else. “Come to think of it, when I first woke up here, I noticed I didn’t have a single speck of dirt on me, even though I was sprawled out on the ground. Is getting dirty the same as ‘getting hurt’ or something?”

“Well... sure, why not...?”

That didn’t really sound like an actual yes.

“Alright, so we’ve established that we don’t need to worry about the real world or our biological needs while we’re here. We aren’t in mortal danger, and once it’s all over, we can leave. Right?” Inaba asked.

“Right,” «The Second» nodded.

For once, the conversation was actually progressing. «The Second» was always the type to say its piece and leave, but this time it was actually trying to have a dialogue with them.

“So «The Third»’s group is using this place as a... a petri dish for their experiment?” Nagase asked, her anger clearly restrained under her stiff expression.

“Yes... There are more than a hundred humans here, and they’re all experiencing phenomena in groups of... four? Five? Six?”

“And they’re all hypnotized, right? Because there’s no way they’d be this calm about it otherwise,” Chihiro muttered to himself. “I mean, even we were hypnotized at one point. That’s why we failed to notice anything weird about the rumors.”

“A little bit, but not too much...? After all, there’s no point in brainwashing them completely...?” «The Second» replied. “Ideally, you hypnotize them at first, then let it wear off... That’s kind of what we’re doing...? After all, once you accept something as normal... even after the hypnosis is gone, you still tend to think of it as normal... You humans, I mean...?”

Those last few words drew a clear line between «The Second» and the rest of them.

“Oh, and... the rules are the same...? The same as they were in the real world...”

In other words, the only real difference was the number of concurrent experiments.

“If things get dicey, we’ll trigger an emergency shutdown... and at the end, we’ll undo everything that happened...?”

“Now that’s the tricky part,” Inaba cut in. “When you ‘undo everything’ with an emergency shutdown, will it erase their memories of their friends in addition to the phenomenon they experienced here?”

“Probably... since it’s so sudden...?”

“Well, that’s why we came here. To prevent that.”

“Plus, we’re hoping we can find a way to avoid losing the past eighteen months of our lives,” Nagase added.

After all, even after the Isolation Zone came to an end, the threat of the Record Wipe still remained.

“I mean, sure, I’ve been writing little reminders, and I had Chee-hee and Shino-chan print some stuff out for me so I could use it as wrapping paper, but I’m just not sure it’s enough...”

Back in the real world, all they could really do to prepare for the Record Wipe was to create a series of safety nets to help them remember after the fact.

“And don’t forget, we want to help Misaki-chan regain her memories of her friends after she lost them back in the real world,” Kiriyama declared, her eyes burning with determination.

Their goal: to fight for everyone’s memories, including their own.

“You’ve got a lot going on... Sounds complicated... Very complicated...?” «The Second» commented in an emotionless voice.

“Is there an easy way to get everyone out of here?” Inaba asked, probing for a useful hint. “That’d be the best way to keep them all safe.”

“It’ll all come to an end eventually, you know... Just like in the real world...?” «The Second» replied offhandedly. This wasn’t much of an answer, but at least it hadn’t decided to walk out on them.

“Just a few more questions, alright? We need actual answers... How does «The Third»’s group view us?”

Now there was an important question.

“...For the most part, they view you as... ‘whatever’...? They don’t really care... If anything, you might prove interesting...? But if you start spreading unnecessary information... they might start to keep an eye on you...? The usual info is okay, though...”

So the enemy was aware of their movements. This put Taichi on edge. But according to «The Second», they would be fine as long as they didn’t cross any red lines. Not too different from the warning «Heartseed» had originally given them back in the real world. Unfortunately, while it was good to know they weren’t completely powerless, this restriction still felt limiting.

“Unnecessary information, huh? So what you’re saying is, don’t tell them the stuff only we know about? Stuff that would make the ‘experiment’ less interesting?”

“Yes... Exactly...? Controlling the flow of information is... an important part of the process...”

Then Enjouji of all people joined the fray. “O-Okay, so... for example... what if we warned people to stay calm so they wouldn’t t-trigger an emergency shutdown...?”

“Noooo, no, no... That’s no good...? We haven’t told them about the emergency shutdown...”

Evidently it was a good move to ask in terms of concrete examples.

“So if you can avoid stuff like that... you should be fine...? Unless they change their views...?”

“The second they change their minds about us, we’re kind of screwed,” Taichi muttered under his breath. One thing was for certain: «The Third» had them in the palm of its hand, and they were fighting this battle at a massive disadvantage.

“One last question: we’ve noticed some people vanishing into thin air. Is that one of the phenomena?” Nagase asked. She was referring to the two first-year boys—and if Kurihara could be believed, Oosawa Misaki as well.

“That’s the emergency shutdown...?” «The Second» replied without batting a lash.

Everyone froze.

As much as Taichi would have liked to react with anger or grief, it just... didn’t feel real. He couldn’t conjure an emotional response.

Once «The Third»’s group decided the risk to a given participant was too great, they used the emergency shutdown to flush the victim’s memories without stopping to make any fine adjustments... and then the victim was ejected from the Isolation Zone?

In other words, they had already lost people. And those people had already lost their friendships.

It was apparent that the rules of the emergency shutdown still applied here: whenever there was extreme emotional instability, a mental breakdown, or any other “scandal,” it would trigger. But whenever they tried to ask for clarification on the boundary between safe and shutdown-worthy, they only got vague responses, like “It depends...?”

Next they asked whether the victims of the shutdown would return to the real world ahead of everyone else, but apparently this was not the case; the return to reality was planned to happen simultaneously for all participants at the end of the Isolation Zone experiment.

“Emotional instability... So like, if someone uncovered a secret you really didn’t want them to know...?” Kiriyama murmured.

“And it’s probably not a good idea to fight among your friends, either,” Enjouji chimed in.

“Yeah... Yeah... Exactly...? It’s not a good idea...? Also... heavy emphasis is placed on one’s fellow group members, so if something catastrophic happens between them, it’s very... unsafe?”

“Fellow group members, huh... Is that really all the info you can give us? Anything that’s guaranteed to cause a shutdown? Or anything that would make it harder to trigger one?” Inaba demanded. No matter how much information they gleaned, it just wasn’t enough.

“Anything else...? No...? I’m gonna go now...?” «The Second» announced suddenly. Really suddenly.

“Wait, but—we still—!”

But «The Second» left Kurihara’s body before Taichi could even finish his sentence.

□■□■□

Evidently «The Second»’s possession had done Kurihara some good, because when she regained consciousness, she was a great deal calmer. When she told them she wanted to go back to the rest of her group in the track clubroom, the CRC didn’t stop her. Instead, Kiriyama walked her most of the way there.

They had successfully gotten a grasp of the situation. They couldn’t see an immediate solution, but they had confirmed that emotional instability would increase the risk of losing memories through the emergency shutdown. As such, they needed to put some measures in place as soon as possible to account for that.

“We’re a small team, and we won’t be able to save everyone. But putting out small fires is still better than doing nothing at all,” Inaba declared.

Taichi nodded. “First, we should talk to them. That way we can buy ourselves some time to think about our next step.”

And so the seven members of the CRC headed to the East Wing, where the classrooms were located. After all, that was where the majority of students had gathered, per Katori’s instructions. The first-years were all contained to one room, while the second-years had been divided into three. However, not all of the groups were present and accounted for.

And so the CRC decided to visit each of the classrooms and check on everyone’s current condition.

“Oh, and we’ll need to follow up with Kurihara and the Liberation boys separately. But when it comes to the topic of the emergency shutdown, take care to tread lightly,” Inaba explained.

Indeed, people who had already witnessed an emergency shutdown would need to be approached in a different fashion. They didn’t know whether «The Third»’s group was consciously aware of this, but the emergency shutdown was in fact the biggest threat to the humans’ side.

As they walked through the first floor of the main building, someone called out to them.

“Hey, CRC! What are you folks up to?”

It was President Katori, accompanied by his subordinates in the student council.

It would appear that the student council had planned a classroom tour of their very own—in which case, it was clearly more efficient for both groups to work together. The CRC offered to assist them, and Katori readily agreed.

“This’ll be a huge help. The more hands on deck, the better,” said vice president Sasaki, a somewhat high-strung boy who wore glasses.

After a brief discussion, their combined group of fifteen was split into four teams, each tasked with visiting a corresponding classroom. Taichi was put on a team with Sasaki, Kiriyama, and Adachi, the first-year from the outreach committee, to visit one of the second-year classrooms.

“So the student council’s going to do most of the talking, and the CRC will just fill in here and there... right?”

That was Katori’s plan, at least. He was seemingly fixated on making sure the student council was calling the shots, and Inaba had accepted it with a shrug.

“That’s what the President was saying, but... I’m not opposed to you taking center stage if the need arises.” Apparently Sasaki wasn’t eager to hog the spotlight.

“Mmm... I think they’d probably rather listen to someone in the student council. Like, it’d be kinda weird if we were the ones taking charge. Right?” Kiriyama looked over at Adachi for confirmation.

“For sure, dude. I think so, too,” Adachi answered cheerfully. Her sporadic use of slang gave her a tomboy aesthetic. But as a first-year, Taichi couldn’t imagine her speaking confidently to a room full of upperclassmen.

“I mean, I’m willing to do it. I can handle it. Nngh... If only the President could take care of it all himself... That was the original plan, you know,” Sasaki muttered anxiously. He and Adachi walked into the classroom, followed by Taichi and Kiriyama.

Inside, thirty-plus second-year students had gathered.

“Oh, it’s Yaegashi!” called Watase Shingo.

“And Kiriyama-san!” Miyagami added.

Naturally, since this was Classroom 2-B, a lot of Taichi’s fellow classmates were present. They had split off into six clusters—some all-guy groups, some all-girl groups, and some a mix of the two. Some were sitting in chairs or on desks, while others were standing.

At first glance, it looked like any other break period between classes. But there was a firm divide between each cluster, and the way they all whipped around at the sudden presence of outsiders made it obvious that there was an undercurrent of tension beneath the peaceful veneer.

“Hey, how’s it going? Is the student council in charge now or something?” one of the students called to them.

“W-We’re here to explain all that.”

Standing at the teacher’s podium, the vice president stammered through a regurgitation of the same speech the president had made in the gym. Stay calm. Hang in there. We’ll handle everything.

Taichi and Kiriyama were standing at the front of the room alongside him, but they were shunted to the side.

Then people spoke up from the crowd:

“...I mean, I don’t have a problem cooperating with you guys...”

“But what are we supposed to do, exactly? And what’s the student council’s plan?”

“Well... we haven’t gotten quite that far yet. B-But for now, we’d like to gather feedback from everyone.”

“What feedback? We want to go home! End of story!”

“Do you even have a plan?”

This attempt to unite everyone had only resulted in criticism. Perfectly justified, in Taichi’s opinion. No one was at fault here; they were all frustrated with the current circumstances, and they needed to vent about it sooner or later.

“I mean, what even are these phenomena? Obviously I can live with it, but this can’t be normal!” Watase shouted.

“Has the student council learned anything?” Ishikawa asked.

These two were close friends of Taichi’s, and he knew them to be patient, laid-back guys. Sure enough, there was no anger in their voices, but at this point it was clear they weren’t going to tiptoe around the student council’s feelings.

“Uh... well...”

The complaints were steadily snowballing out of control, and Taichi got the sense it was a good time for him to step in. “Let’s all stay calm. Panicking won’t help us,” he called.

Instantly, all eyes turned to him. He nearly flinched back, but managed to hold his ground.

“I understand how you feel. We all want to whine and complain. But you have to remember, we’re all in the dark here. We gotta have compassion for each other.”

“We can’t start fighting with each other. We need to respect the people around us!” Kiriyama added.

“Yaegashi-kun... Yui-chan...” Setouchi murmured in surprise.

“They’re kinda badass when they take charge,” Nakayama remarked.

“It’s crazy how they can keep a level head right now,” Watase nodded, impressed.

“Perhaps I ought to take a leaf out of their book,” Ishikawa mused.

“Dude, what are you talking about? You’re so calm, you’re practically a monk!”

“You’re just saying that because I have a shaved head...”

It was easy to see they’d made a positive impact on the room, if a modest one. As tempted as Taichi was to keep going, Inaba had instructed them that it was too early to talk about their past experiences with the phenomena. They were outsiders here, and it was too soon to tell just how far they were permitted to intrude.

“If you need someone to talk to about your worries or complaints, we’re more than happy to hear you out,” Taichi proposed.

“You’re a saint, Yaegashi! No wonder you have a girlfriend! ...Ugh, I don’t want to think about my love life right now... But I know you’re a good listener, Yaegashi! I’m gonna take you up on that!” Miyagami shouted, flailing his arms dramatically as his carefully styled hair bounced all over the place. “See, I’m in a group with Sone and Mori and Kubo, and our phenomenon involves feeling each other’s feelings! The heck is that about, man?!”

And so Miyagami began his somewhat flustered explanation of the Sentiment Transmission.

“All of a sudden I hear these [voices] in my head, and then I feel whatever emotion they’re feeling! And I have no idea when it’ll strike, so I have to be on guard literally at all times!”

“Miyagami-kun, I know it’s stressful, but you have to stay calm, okay?”

“Yes, of course! Anything you say, Kiriyama-san!” Despite his antics, he was rather quick to change his tune.

“Man, I hate being in the same group as Miyagami. Anyone wanna trade?”

“I could say the same about you, Sone! The one time I get to read people’s minds, and there’s no girls! Ugh!”

Setouchi shot him a withering look. “That’s kind of creepy, Miyagami-kun.”

“No, I was... just joking... Nngh...”

“Oh my god, relax! I was just messing around with you!”

“O-Oh... Right, of course! I should’ve realized. Also, for the record, Sone was just thinking ‘Setouchi’s so scary! You can tell she used to be a bad kid!’”

“Miyagami! It’s not cool to blab, man!”

“Is that so, Sone-kun...?”

“W-Well, um... I, uh, I was also joking, you see...”

The mood in the room had lightened considerably, to the point that the students were starting to make jokes about their phenomena.

“Yui! Yaegashi! Can I borrow you?”

Right as Taichi and the others filed out of the classroom to meet up with the rest of the CRC and student council, someone stopped them in the hall. It was Kurihara Yukina.

“I’ll go ahead and meet up with the rest of the group,” said Sasaki.

“Ditto,” said Adachi.

And so the council members walked off, leaving Taichi and Kiriyama behind. They’d already been planning to speak with Kurihara separately, so this worked out perfectly.

“I came in near the tail end of your discussion back there,” she explained.

“You were in the room?” Kiriyama blinked in surprise. Taichi hadn’t noticed her, either.

“Everyone sounded like they were having a lot of fun, despite the circumstances. Kind of crazy, don’t you think? It’s crazy. Or are we crazy? No, no, that can’t be it.”

There was a strange glint in Kurihara’s eyes as she spoke. Why was she acting this way? Perhaps those who had experienced the phenomena back in the real world were immune to the hypnosis cast on everyone else. Or... maybe the body-swap had simply taken its toll on her mental health.

“Say, Kurihara... Where’s the rest of the track team?”

“You mean Akemi and the rest of the body-swap group? They’ve holed up somewhere else. They’re having a hard time believing this is really happening.”

“Maybe that’s why they wouldn’t let me into their clubroom,” Kiriyama murmured. She had recently attempted to visit, only to be turned away.

“Yep. They don’t want to talk to anyone,” Kurihara declared flat-out.

They had locked themselves away and shut everyone else out.

“Then they probably weren’t in the gym for roll call, either...” Granted, this was not the most pressing concern, but Taichi couldn’t help but worry that the headcount was inaccurate.

“Don’t worry. I wrote all their names down myself,” Kurihara explained. It seemed like she was still thinking clearly, and yet something about her felt... fragile.

“You guys have been through this phenomenon stuff before, right? Was it ever like this?”

“N-No...? It was always just the five of us, and like, we were never brought to some isolated space,” said Kiriyama.

“Hmmm...”

“What’s on your mind?” Taichi asked.

“Just wondering, but while you were in there, did you tell them about your past experience with the phenomena?”

“Well... no... Listen, Kurihara, we’d like to keep that quiet for now. We want to make sure the timing is right before we tell everyone.”

“Okay then. I won’t go spreading it around.”

The look in her eyes was painfully intense. Almost like she was glaring at them.

“Yukina, relax! You’re really scaring me, okay? N-Not that I’m scared of you! I’m just... scared for you.”

“Oh, and the first-year boys who vanished—there’s a connection between them and Misaki, right?”

They couldn’t discuss the emergency shutdown if they wanted to avoid drawing «The Third»’s attention. It was too risky.

“Well?”

“There... might be,” said Taichi. “All three of them have one important thing in common: they first experienced the phenomena back in the real world.”

“Wait, what? So we weren’t the only group dealing with a phenomenon back in the real world?”

Oh, right. He’d forgotten that they hadn’t informed Kurihara of that little detail.

“We’re looking into it right now. Until we figure it out, please don’t talk to anyone about this, either.”

He didn’t enjoy making these demands of her. Both the track team and the first-year boys were clearly struggling with their phenomena, possibly due to how long they had been subjected to it. And if so, the next few days spent here in the Isolation Zone would surely have a similar effect on the dozens of other groups trapped here...

“Hmmm... What about you, Yui? Would you say the same thing?”

“Huh? Uh... yeah...?”

Kurihara scrutinized each of them in turn.

“Alright then.”

□■□■□

Ideally they would’ve liked to meet with the rest of the track team in person, but Kurihara staunchly refused, so they were forced to let it go. She told them she’d pass the message along to the others, so for the time being, their only option was to let her handle it.

The next topic of discussion: what to do about the Liberation group. When the subject came up, Chihiro and Enjouji volunteered to go talk to them. They asked the boys to stay quiet about certain details—how long they’d endured their phenomenon, the CRC’s past experiences, and the vanishing act—then met back up with the rest of the club. Chihiro and Enjouji had maintained regular check-ins with the Liberation group since they were back in the real world, and they seemed to feel it was their sworn duty to look out for them.

Before long, the student council moved into their next phase. Yet again, Katori’s voice boomed over the schoolwide intercom system: “Everybody gather up in the gym so we can hand out food and blankets.”

Current time: 9:30.

It certainly felt like time was passing at the same speed as in real life, judging from the clocks. There was no time discrepancy on their cell phones, either.

“The moon’s definitely moving across the sky,” Enjouji mused quietly as they walked down the hall. Would the sun eventually rise?

“The resources are located in the storage room. Single file, everyone! Stay calm and follow instructions,” Katori stated into the microphone on stage.

But there was no visible panic in the crowd. Everyone was listening and following orders; at this point, it really felt like they were refugees displaced by some natural disaster.

As for the CRC, they assisted the student council in controlling the flow of traffic to the storage area, where the emergency supplies were kept, as well as the distribution of such supplies. Taichi in particular was tasked with standing at the intersection of the hallway and pointing the students in the correct direction. But since there wasn’t much for him to do besides... well... point and say “This way,” he overheard a fair bit of conversation.

“So there’s food, huh? Is there really enough for more than a hundred people?”

“Dude, Yamaboshi’s big enough for a thousand students. They’ve gotta have enough.”

“I don’t really... feel hungry, though...”

“Yeah, me either. But I don’t feel full, either... Y’know, something tells me we don’t really need to eat.”

“I’m still gonna, though.”

It seemed that the students could somehow tell that they wouldn’t need food to survive.

As another group approached, someone called out to Taichi: “You’re really working hard! I’m impressed!”

It was Shiroyama from the jazz band. Back during their first year, they were in the same class. He was mild-mannered and amiable, and because of that, some people referred to him as “Little Prince,” often sarcastically. In the past he had attempted to confess his feelings to Nagase, but these days he seemed to be in a happy relationship with Setouchi.

“Seriously, it’s incredible that you’re able to work at a time like this. I mean, it seems like the student council thinks it’s their job to take charge, but you CRC folks are sorta like volunteer workers, right?”

“No, no, it’s not like that...” Taichi attempted to think of a better way to explain it, but came up empty-handed.

“You’re a burden!” a hoarse voice shouted in the distance.

Taichi turned his head and saw that Shiroyama’s group had come to a stop a few meters down the hall, beneath the flickering fluorescent lights.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Uh... I didn’t mean that. It was the phenomenon, I swear.”

“I bet you’re just using the phenomenon as a get out of jail free card so you can talk smack about the rest of us!”

“I told you, that’s not it at all!”

Taichi dashed over to the bickering students. “What’s going on?”

“...Mind your own business,” said the guy.

“It’s nothing,” said the girl.

And they both promptly walked off.

“Sorry about them... They’re both in my phenomenon group,” Shiroyama explained, hanging his head with a guilty expression on his face. Indeed, Taichi recognized them as fellow members of the jazz band, so it made sense that Shiroyama was grouped with them.

“See, there are times where we’re jinxed to tell lies and say stuff we don’t mean.”

“Can’t you just wait until it’s over and then explain to everyone that it was the phenomenon?” Taichi suggested.

“I mean, we do. But it doesn’t change the fact that we said it in the first place, and there’s no way to prove it was actually the phenomenon, so... I don’t know. It’s just complicated.”

As he spoke, Taichi realized that, in a way, every phenomenon was engineered to inflict a special kind of suffering that only its victims could understand. And in an isolated environment in which they were forced to be around each other at all hours of the day, what an outsider saw as a tiny fracture might in fact sow the seeds of a wider gulf.

“When is this whole thing going to end? Because I don’t think I can handle it for much longer.”

Taichi didn’t have the answer... but he could only hope that this comment wasn’t a prelude to a stormy future.

While they knew they didn’t actually need to eat, at the same time, it felt unnatural not to. And so Taichi and the others ate their emergency ration biscuits and washed them down with bottled water. By normal standards, it was bedtime. And since the student council had handed out blankets to everyone, most people seemed prepared to hunker down for the night. They never once questioned whether tomorrow would come.

The student council had proposed that they all gather together to sleep, but many of the students were opposed to this idea. Instead, most of the groups split off and found their own rooms to sleep in, with mixed-gender groups splitting up further. With 118 students accounted for, that meant there were roughly 24 different phenomenon groups, but factoring in all the classrooms and clubrooms, Yamaboshi had plenty of space to accommodate everyone.

Over time the chatter faded, and the lights clicked off, one by one. There was no sign of the student council, either. The whole school had turned in for the night.

Naturally, the CRC had chosen to sleep in Rec Hall Room 401.

“Normally I’d totally be whining about not being able to shower, but I actually don’t feel gross at all,” Kiriyama commented, absently touching her hair and forehead.

“I... I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep,” Enjouji murmured anxiously. “Not without my favorite pillow.”

“Relax, Shino,” Inaba replied. “I get the feeling we won’t have to worry about sleep deprivation while we’re here.”

Taichi could feel it, too. While he did feel vaguely sleepy, the desire was faint; if he wanted to, he could probably manage without sleep just fine.

“It’s the perfect world!” Nagase shouted as she flopped down onto a blanket spread out on the floor. “Weird... The floor’s firm, but not enough to hurt my back.”

“Apparently we don’t have to worry about any bodily inconvenience whatsoever,” Chihiro remarked.

“The perfect petri dish for an experiment. All the unnecessary variables have been pruned away,” Inaba mused. “But that actually makes things a hell of a lot easier on us, too. It’s a load off our shoulders. All we have to focus on is the mental health of everyone here.”

Perhaps that was the best way to look at it. That way they could concentrate on the battle ahead.

□■□■□

When Taichi next awoke, the first thing he saw was a stark white ceiling. This was not his bedroom.

At first he was confused, but then he remembered. He was inside the Isolation Zone.

The clubroom didn’t have any nightlights; the only source of light was through the window, where the glow of the city streamed in. Fortunately, this was enough illumination to avoid stepping on anyone.

“...Taichi?” Inaba sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Sorry... Did I wake you?”

“Nah, I was already up.”

For propriety’s sake, the CRC had split the clubroom into the “boys’ side” and the “girls’ side” for the night. But it was a small room, so there was only about a meter’s worth of space between them. (Not that they were all that worried about any funny business taking place.)

“This is one hell of a situation we’ve landed ourselves in, isn’t it? Just a few hours ago, we were back in the real world... Well, I guess time passes differently in here, so maybe my senses are off,” Inaba added hastily. “But to me, it feels like a few hours ago.”

“If anything, it feels like forever ago,” Taichi replied.

Back when they first met «Heartseed», he could feel that their lives had taken a turn for the supernatural. But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that it would one day lead them to an alternate reality. In that sense, it really felt like the ultimate trial. This was the story’s final act.

“First, we found out that there were phenomena happening to other people at school. Then we learned that our memories were going to be rewritten. Then we noticed the rumors floating around... and then a hundred students were spirited away.”

The mere act of listening to Inaba recount the order of events was enough to make his head spin. “But we chose to come here of our own free will.”

All the rest of it was beyond their control, but not this.

“Hmph. Yeah, we chose this path. We wanted to do this, so here we are. Although it’s one hell of a detour, considering we’re supposed to be focusing on the Record Wipe.”

Here, they were fighting to protect other people’s friendships, as well as the memories that took place while the CRC were inflicted with their various phenomena. In that sense, this was still a battle against the Record Wipe.

“But nevertheless, we’ll forge ahead.” Inaba glanced out the window, up at the shining moon. Then she looked back at him. “I’ll be honest with you, Taichi... I’m scared.”

As her boyfriend, it was his job to be there for her.

“I’ll protect you.”

Alone they were powerless, but if they all worked together, surely—

The next morning, the population of the Isolation Zone had decreased.