Chapter 3: Opposition

The next morning, Taichi awoke feeling perfectly fine. No fatigue, no hunger. And although he’d slept in his school uniform, his shirt wasn’t wrinkled in the slightest.

At 7:00 AM, student council president Katori Jouji made an intercom announcement:

“Is everyone awake? Get ready for the day, then come meet me in the gym. I’d like to pass out more food rations and, if possible, take roll.”

And so the CRC headed to the gym.

Here in the Isolation Zone, the sun had risen. The sky was cloudy, but it wasn’t so cold as to be unpleasant. They entered the gym to find that a lot of people had turned up in just their uniforms. They didn’t feel the need to wear their overcoats.

And yet the air felt chilly for a distinctly different reason...

“We want to go home! You guys said you were going to figure it out!” one of the male students shouted at Katori while the rest of the crowd watched from a safe distance.

“Yes, I know. We all want to get home as soon as possible. But right now—”

“Are you even trying?! Why are you handing out rations?! Are you planning to make us live here?! Screw that, man! I’m not gonna... I’m not gonna live with this phenomenon crap forever!”

“Alright, let’s talk. Come on.” Accompanied by the rest of the student council, Katori led the male student out of the gym.

“...Was that Kubozuka?” Aoki blinked. The two were fellow classmates.

“Oh, hi, Aoki-kun...”

“Aoki...”

“Oh, heyyyy! It’s Matsui-san and Katsuragi! So, uh... you guys going after him? Your group’s got the ‘everybody’s an enemy’ phenomenon, right?”

“Yeah... We’ve been trying to look out for him, but...”

“But then he goes and flips out on the President!”

“Yesterday the phenomenon struck him more than anyone else, remember? The dude’s probably stressed out... Let me tag along.”

“Thank you, Aoki. That’d be a huge help.”

“Whenever there’s trouble, I’m your guy!” And so Aoki and his other classmates followed the student council out of the gym.

There was a moment of silence, and then murmurs erupted throughout the room, loud enough for the CRC to overhear.

“...Right? If we can’t get out of here, we’re stuck with the phenomenon forever!”

“I... I’m sure it’ll be okay! We’ll be free to leave eventually... Yeah, and then the phenomenon will come to an end...”

Everyone seemed to believe that the phenomena came part and parcel with the Isolation Zone. That escaping would free them from all things supernatural. And they weren’t exactly wrong about that. More worryingly, however, fear and frustration were on the rise. Almost like something had changed overnight.

“Goooood morning, ladies and bros! What’s going on in here? Everything groovy?” asked Adachi, the first-year outreach committee member.

“You know, for a first-year, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders,” Taichi commented.

“Well, I can’t exactly slack off, now can I? The outreach committee is still part of the student council, y’know.” She patted the band on her left arm.

That said, she wasn’t the only one who was managing to keep a level head; plenty of students in the crowd were still hanging in there. So what was it that differentiated the angry ones from the calm ones? Was it the degree of hypnosis cast on them? Or the varying mental stress of the different phenomena?

Probably the latter, if Taichi had to guess. All of them were walking on very thin ice. One wrong move and they might break down.

“I’d like to start taking roll... What’s the CRC’s phenomenon again? Reading each other’s minds, wasn’t it?”

Such was the lie fabricated by the CRC themselves. But they needed a cover story in order to blend in, and something like “reading minds” would conveniently explain why their phenomenon wasn’t outwardly visible.

“Yes, that. Oh, and for the record, Aoki just stepped outside,” Inaba nodded.

“Uhhh... Hmm, that’s odd. Uwa-kun and Enjouji-san don’t appear to be with you.”

“Whoa, you’re right! Shino-chaaaan! Chee-heeeee! Where are youuuu?” Nagase called, glancing around the gym. Likewise, Taichi started looking around, too.

Then the two CRC first-years came running up in a fluster.

“How the hell did you two idiots get lost?”

“W-We didn’t get lost, Inaba-senpai! We were waved over by some friends... Oh, but forget about that! Over there! There’s a problem with the roll call!”

“What kind of problem?”

“It’s the second-year rugby group. Last night, one of their members... Well... See, they got into a fight about their phenomenon, and one of their members walked out, and he hasn’t been back.”

“Y-Yes! Exactly what Chihiro-kun said! And worst of all... Before he left, he was acting like he didn’t even know them!”

As of that morning, three people had seemingly vanished. Adding them to the two Liberation boys, plus Oosawa Misaki, the total number of missing students was up to six.

As much as they didn’t want to admit it... those six people were all probably victims of an emergency shutdown.

But over the course of the roll call, there were dozens of no-shows, with their fellow group members standing in for them instead. Supposedly those absent students were still on campus somewhere. But because of this, it was hard to tell how many people were actually missing.

Thus far, neither Kurihara nor the remaining two Liberation boys had reported their missing group members to the student council. They didn’t want to accept that their friends were gone. The CRC had warned them to keep quiet about it just in case, but it was clear that none of them had any intention of making a scene about it. Instead, they were all choosing to wait and see.

But since the student council was taking roll, naturally, this discrepancy was quickly uncovered.

“What’s going on here? Did they all have a falling-out and break away from their groups? Would all these people really be that childish at a time like this?” Katori demanded.

The student council and CRC had gathered backstage to review the roll call. At first Katori had seemed opposed to the CRC’s presence, but once they revealed that they already knew about the disappearances, he reluctantly let them join. It was apparent that he didn’t want too many people to know about it just yet.

“Did they really just... vanish?”

“Wouldn’t that mean they found a way out?” vice president Sasaki suggested suddenly.

“A way out...?”

Of course, the CRC knew that it was actually the worst-case scenario. But to everyone else, it seemed like a ray of hope. Taichi could understand that, of course. If they weren’t here, why, one would assume they must have gone back to the real world...

“I don’t know. This whole ‘people vanishing’ thing gives me bad vibes,” Inaba remarked, possibly in an attempt to change their minds.

“What makes you say that?” asked Fujishima Maiko.

“Well, it sounds like everyone who disappeared was in a bad headspace at the time, right? Are you telling me the only way out is to start fights with your friends? It just doesn’t feel right. It seems... backwards.”

“Ah, I see. So you view the situation as a game with its own set of rules. Honestly, given the circumstances, I doubt our logic even applies here.”

This viewpoint was hard to argue against, further complicated by Fujishima’s long-standing suspicions toward the CRC. That said, perhaps the Isolation Zone truly was little more than a game. Surely «The Third» and its ilk saw it that way, at least.

“Let’s not let our imaginations get carried away, shall we? Now that we know people are missing, the first thing we should do is look for them.”

And so, at Katori’s command, the student council leapt into action.

As for the CRC, they returned to Rec Hall Room 401 for a private discussion of their own.

“Is it really that easy to trigger an emergency shutdown?” Taichi lamented quietly. If so, the situation was even worse than they had imagined.

“And when it happens, they lose everything... All their memories of the friends who suffered the phenomenon with them, just... gone,” Kiriyama chimed in miserably.

“If only there was some way to f-fix it,” Enjouji whimpered. “The way things are, I feel so bad for Kanda-kun and Horiguchi-kun... not to mention the friends they’ve left behind...”

“Well then, we need to think of a plan,” Chihiro offered.

“Holy crap! Chee-hee just said something optimistic for once! Guys, we gotta make it happen!”

“If that’s supposed to be a joke, it’s not funny, Nagase-san.”

“...Okay, you’re right. Just trying to lighten the mood. I’m sorry.”

“But all we can really do is try to prevent any more emergency shutdowns, right?” Aoki asked, steering the conversation back on track. “Because I gotta say, it really sucks not being able to explain it. When I was talking to Kubozuka, all I could really say was ‘relax’ and ‘hang in there.’”

“If «The Second» is to be believed, we can’t risk talking about it whatsoever,” Inaba replied with a grimace. “Goddamn it... We can’t afford to keep playing it safe. We have to make a dramatic impact. But how can we help them avoid emergency shutdowns without ever explaining them...?”

“What if we went around and told them, like, ‘These phenomena are no big deal! You’ll be fine!’ or something?” Nagase suggested. This was the strategy the CRC themselves adopted during their own phenomena.

“But we already tried that with Yukina’s group,” Kiriyama muttered, staring at the floor.

Indeed, staying calm during a supernatural event was easier said than done. It would only last for so long before things started to fall apart.

“Could we manage all their issues if we split the work between us?” Taichi asked.

Right this minute, there were dozens of students potentially on the verge of an emergency shutdown... but it simply wasn’t realistic for a handful of people to be able to manage a population of more than a hundred.

“You really think we can steal Katori’s thunder and lead these people ourselves? Would «The Third» even let us get away with it? How would we even go about it?” Inaba asked.

She obviously didn’t see it working out, and for good reason. Just on its face, the strategy was too reckless. They had neither the information nor the tools necessary to take on such an overwhelmingly powerful opponent. They had the will, but not the means. And they knew full well that intentions weren’t enough to make their vision a reality. Life was never that easy.

Perhaps this was always a battle they were destined to lose. Perhaps all that they had worked so long and hard to build would inevitably be stolen away from them, one by one. The world as they knew it would vanish. A mere seven people was simply not enough to keep everything from falling apart—

Just then, they heard the light thwack of something colliding with glass.

At first Taichi thought maybe someone had thrown a rock at their window, but... their clubroom was on the fourth floor.

Judging from the way everyone stopped and looked around at each other, it wasn’t a figment of his imagination, either.

“The heck is goin’ on?” Aoki mused aloud. He rose to his feet, walked over to the window, unlocked it, and opened it up.

“W-Wait! Be careful, you idiot!” Kiriyama blurted hastily as her boyfriend stuck his head out.

“I know! I’m being careful! Let’s see... Nope, I don’t see anyone outside. Not that I was expecting to.” He straightened back up and turned to face the others. “I guess we were just—”

But a split-second later, the window behind him went dark as a shadow streaked across it.

Then, slowly but surely, the unidentified entity crawled up, put their foot on the window frame, and stepped into the room.

It was the first grown adult they’d seen since they arrived in the Isolation Zone—Gotou Ryuuzen, advisor for Class 2-B and supervisor for the Cultural Research Club. But his shoulders were slumped, and his eyes were lifeless... Somewhat similar to «The Second» or «The Third», but not quite the same...

There was no doubt about it. It was «Heartseed».

The entire room was rendered speechless.

Then it spoke, in its usual lethargic tone:

“Oh... What seems to be the problem, everyone...? Surely by now you ought to be used to me... turning up spontaneously...”

No one said a word.

“No, really, what’s the matter...? We’re wasting time... Time I don’t have...”

“Wh-... Why in the ever-loving FUCK did you come in through the WINDOW?! You nearly gave us all a goddamn heart attack, you asshat!” Inaba screeched, flustered.

“Aagh! Jeez, man! The heck did you come from?!” Aoki yelped.

“Is... Isn’t this the fourth floor?! The fourth floor?! This is the fourth floor! The fourth floor!” Kiriyama shrieked.

“Clearly «Heartseed» is a fourth to be reckoned with!” Nagase shouted.

“This is not the time for your puns, Nagase-san,” Chihiro retorted.

“I think that shocked me so much that I actually looped back around to calm again,” Taichi commented idly.

“Wh-What are you doing here, «Heartseed»-san?! Didn’t you die?! Are you a ghost?!”

“...That really stings, Enjouji-san...”

“O-Oh... Sorry...”

Evidently «Heartseed» was even willing to play along with Enjouji’s banter.

Inaba took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Okay... How did you do that?”

“Gah! And why am I still standing next to you?!” Aoki hurried back over to the table with the rest of the club.

“I mean... I simply hopped down from the roof... and used the window frame as a foothold...”

“What are you, the guy from Mission Impossible?!”

“Well... «The Third»’s group is keeping close watch... and I needed to avoid detection... You see... I’m not technically supposed to be here...”

The lighthearted mood in the room was quickly overcome with tension. There was no time to celebrate the arrival of their tentative ally.

“You’re not?” Inaba asked.

“Of course not... Obviously... They have no use for me...”

Indeed, «The Third»’s group didn’t stand to gain anything from «Heartseed»’s presence here. Not that Taichi could think of, at least.

“But nevertheless... with assistance from «The Second»... I’ve been pulling some strings...”

Which meant that «The Second» was in fact cooperating with their side.

“Oh, but... I don’t have much time... Is it alright if I make this quick...?”

Even the ever-sluggish «Heartseed» seemed to be in a rush.

“You must really be pressed for time. Alright then, hurry it up. What is it you want to tell us? Because frankly, you were supposed to help us figure out what we’re meant to be doing in here! Remember?”

“...Oh, Inaba-san... You’re never one to beat around the bush... Yes, I came here to pass along some very important information... After all, you would be sitting ducks without me...”

“I’d almost rather die than agree with that, but... we really need you, «Heartseed». Please,” Nagase pressed, holding back her emotions through gritted teeth.

“Well then... Since Nagase-san has asked so nicely... I’d better do my very best...”

Why did it feel like «Heartseed» was actually a friend?

“For now... you have two objectives, correct...? To protect the memories of all those held here... and to protect your own.”

“And to restore all memories erased by the emergency shutdown!” Kiriyama added aggressively, but «Heartseed» ignored her.

“Anyway... The best way to avoid memory loss is simply to avoid an emergency shutdown altogether... Other than that, as «The Second» explained, the rules are fundamentally the same... Should a given subject make it through to the very end, they will only lose those memories which directly pertain to the phenomenon itself...”

So «The Second» was telling the truth about that too.

“Now then... As for your... or should I say, our... memories... Or should I call them Records...? I must say, I really struggled with this one...”

“Normally I wouldn’t give a shit about your ‘struggle,’ but... just this once, I actually appreciate it. Thanks for the hard work.”

“Oh my... Inaba-san has thanked me... I’m not worthy... Oh, but fair warning... It appears you will all need to put in a great deal of effort this time around...”

“Bring it on! We can handle it!” Aoki declared enthusiastically.

Personally, Taichi was in agreement. After all, some things were worth it.

“...Because the Isolation Zone can be considered a phenomenon in its own right... the same rules apply... If the experiment is no longer interesting... or becomes too dangerous to continue... or, in this case, if there are too many emergency shutdowns... it will come to an end...”

“H-How many is ‘too many’?” Enjouji asked.

“...It is their call to make, so it’s hard to say... More than a few, at the very least...”

This was too vague to be of much comfort.

“When the experiment ends, the phenomena-centric memories will be erased... the subjects will be returned to your world... and then the eight of us will lose our Records as well... But I have a plan... that will be set into motion once we leave the Isolation Zone... If it works, and we evade the Record Wipe... we will all be able to keep our memories...”

“And that includes the memories of what happened during each of our phenomena, right? So the connections we’ve built with the people around us will stay intact?” asked Inaba.

“Yes... That’s right...”

“Then that’s perfect. Let’s give it a try. Is there anything we need to do to prepare?”

“...I see Inaba-san’s intuition is as sharp as her tongue... Yes, I must assign to you a very important task... If you are successful, my entire plan will be successful... and if you fail, we are all doomed...”

“Oh, spare us the theatrics,” Chihiro retorted, and Taichi was inclined to agree.

“...You see... what I want you to do... is bring this world to an end...”

“What? How the heck—?”

“Hold it, Iori. So basically... you want us to make the experiment really boring? Is that it?”

“Precisely... and you can do so... by uniting everyone within it... If everyone inside the Isolation Zone falls into perfect harmony... the experiment will end.”

“Uniting everyone...?” Enjouji repeated.

“Perfect harmony...” Chihiro murmured.

That’s way too vague, Taichi thought to himself. But at the same time, somewhere deep down, it made sense.

“After all, I usually end my own experiments... whenever my subjects are all on the same page... because it’s clear to me that nothing more will come of it... although there have been exceptions...”

Was «Heartseed» talking about its experience with the CRC?

“So it’s less interesting to you when everyone’s united...? How come? Not enough drama?” Nagase asked, cocking her head.

“Without any changes of heart, it’s simply no fun...”

That, above all else, was what «they» wanted to see.

“Human emotions have... immense power... More than you may realize... And when the entire group is aligned, they can wield that power... That is how we can disrupt the Isolation Zone...”

“So what you’re saying is, we take each five-person group, get those five people on the same page, and they’ll be freed? Rinse and repeat?” asked Inaba.

“No... The entire Isolation Zone is, itself, one phenomenon...”

“So... we have to unite everyone in here...?” Taichi asked, dubiously, since the premise sounded ridiculous on paper.

“Yes... In doing so... it will most certainly end the experiment...”

“So you want us to bring everyone together, and after the experiment ends, you’ll take it from there?” Nagase asked probingly.

“If you can act quickly, before it falls apart... in other words, if you can end the experiment before there are too many emergency shutdowns... I’ll do the rest...”

“And then they’ll only lose their memories of the Isolation Zone? Everything else will be retained?” Inaba asked, barely suppressing her obvious excitement.

“...Precisely...”

They couldn’t have asked for a better plan. But there was still one last concern:

“Okay, but like, what about the people who already got shut down?” Kiriyama asked in a watery voice.

“...I can’t guarantee anything... but it is possible they may be reverted... especially if only a handful of humans have been ‘shut down’... After all, the goal of mass memory modification is to have as few inconsistencies as possible...”

At this, the blood drained from Kiriyama’s face. “Wait, so... if the rest of us all remember, there’s a chance they can remember, too...? Is that what you just said?”

“Indeed... if the rest remember... there is a chance...”

Kiriyama nodded to herself, seemingly satisfied. Even if they couldn’t solve all the problems in one fell swoop, there was still potential to fix things later on.

“Well then, that’s exactly what we want. But isn’t this almost too perfect? I mean, «The Third»’s group is going all-out with this shit. Do these convenient loopholes really exist? Is it just that easy?”

To Taichi, Inaba had every right to be suspicious. It really did seem too good to be true.

At her questions, «Heartseed» smirked.

“Normally it would be quite difficult... but I have put my life on the line... to set this up so that it’s easier...”

It had allegedly risked its life, and yet it almost seemed to be gloating.

“After all... this way, you’ll all entertain me once again... Isn’t that right...?”

They had thought «Heartseed» was outmatched. That they were fighting a losing battle. But they were wrong.

“With such a fascinating scenario laid out before me... why wouldn’t I want to make things more interesting...? I thought I’d never get another chance... but it seems I’ve been given one more wonderful opportunity, right at the very end...”

«Heartseed» smiled, wearing the face of Gotou Ryuuzen. The risk was so high, it couldn’t even walk in through the door... and yet it continued to pursue its own goals, right to the bitter end. Its sense of conviction was both despicable and—much as they were loath to admit it—admirable.

“Keh heh heh... You’re right. This is pretty entertaining,” Inaba smirked.

Looking back, it was almost always Inaba who had gone toe to toe with «Heartseed», and it had been a while since she last let her mischievous side come out to play.

“Frankly, I can’t be sure if you’re actually telling the truth, because I still think it’s a little too perfect. But it sounds like a fun time, so it’s a gamble I’m willing to take. You want entertaining? I’ll give you entertaining.”

She was so aggressive, so provocative, it made his heart race. This was the real Inaba Himeko.

“You started this little story because you said we were ‘more fascinating than most.’ So we’ll finish it off with the most thrilling conclusion you’ll ever see. Anyone have any objections?”

“Nope! You’re such a badass, Inaban. I wish I was as cool as you!” Nagase exclaimed as she glanced around at the others.

They all nodded, Taichi included.

“Not like we got any better ideas,” Aoki shrugged with a goofy grin.

“We’re going to win this,” Kiriyama declared fiercely. “We’re going to make this happen.”

“And if we still end up losing our memories, we’ll just blame «Heartseed».”

“Chihiro-kun, why is it that you’re always so quick to pin the blame on other people? I think that says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“You wanna fight, Enjouji? What I’m saying is, «Heartseed» had better pull its weight.”

“Maybe we ought to worry about our own weight before we go around condescending to all-powerful beings!”

In a way, this argument was proof of the first-years’ will to fight.

Taichi looked back at «Heartseed» and met its gaze. Its eyes were barely open, but behind the lethargic veneer... he sensed a tiny pinprick of light.

Could they trust it? He wasn’t sure. But if there was a chance of victory—even a tiny chance—then they needed to hunt it down and seize it for themselves. No risk, no reward.

“«Heartseed», I choose to trust you and rise to your challenge. Besides, once we make it through this, who knows... Maybe you’ll be closer to human.”

Now that they finally knew what «Heartseed»’s true motivation was, Taichi tossed it out to get a reaction. At last, the tables had turned.

“...You all seem to be... rather committed to this... Yes...”

Once «Heartseed» itself was committed, perhaps they could make their dreams into reality. And so Inaba started digging for info.

“I have a question.”

“I am well and truly out of time now, so... make it quick...”

“Was «The Second» telling us the truth? Or do you need me to go over what it said?”

“No need... Yes, you can trust «The Second»...”

That was a quick answer. It would seem the two entities had formed a strong partnership.

“One more thing. How far are we allowed to go while «The Third» is watching?”

“I imagine you’re free to do what you like... After all, «they» consider it part of the fun... But you probably can’t discuss the things we’ve told you directly... like the rules of the emergency shutdown... or the plan to unite the participants... But any information that they would inevitably come across by being in here... is fair game...”

“So we’re allowed to be here as long as we don’t share any knowledge that would ‘skew the results,’ like the stuff we learned from you or «The Second»?”

“Yes... If it appears you know too much... they will start to wonder where you got your information... and if they find out your connection to me... it will make things more difficult on my end... Because you see, «The Third»’s group has yet to even suspect that we’ve... formed this alliance...”

“Are we allowed to tell them that we’ve experienced the phenomena before?” Taichi asked, out of interest.

“Well, you were allowed to back in the real world, correct...? Therefore, it should be fine here... Anyway, now you have your task...”

With this, «Heartseed» moved away from the window toward the center of the room... but no one tensed up. Then it shuffled past them toward the door.

“......Oh, now you can use the door?” Inaba asked after a pause, like she just couldn’t help herself. She scowled.

“It’s safe for the moment... In order to distract them, I... Oh, right... There’s no point in me explaining that to you...”

And with that, «Heartseed» left the way it should have come.

“Well, we have our mission,” said Inaba, now that it was gone.

“Now that I think about it, isn’t this actually the best way to prevent any emergency shutdowns, too?” Nagase mused. “If we can get everyone to support each other, there won’t be any fights or breakdowns.”

“But to do that, we’ll have to unite the world,” Chihiro murmured.

“World peace! Dang, that sounds crazy! Feels like we’re superheroes!” Aoki exclaimed gleefully, and Taichi found himself wishing he could be even half as optimistic.

“Maybe we’ll be superheroes... or maybe we’ll be villains. After all, if we made everyone equally... furious, for example... perhaps that would meet «The Third»’s conditions to end the Isolation Zone. Although the peaceful approach that Iori described is certainly more ideal, I’ll give you that.” Sometimes Inaba’s rational analysis could be downright terrifying.

“B-But... can we really do this...? There’s more than a hundred people here... and I don’t have that many friends,” Enjouji murmured anxiously. She was by no means the only person worried about this, however.

“Don’t worry. We’ll make it happen,” Taichi declared. After all, the first step was to make his intentions known.

“Yeah. We can totally do this,” Kiriyama agreed, gazing at him.

It wouldn’t be easy to bring everyone under one banner. They had already tried it with a mere five people back in the real world, and it hadn’t gone well. Now they were looking at the same task times twenty. And since that was the entire population of the Isolation Zone, they were essentially tasked with bringing the whole world together.

Distrust. Antipathy. Conflict. These things were all human nature; that much was self-evident. At no point in human history had anyone ever succeeded in eradicating them. Granted, this was not their world... but at the same time, it very much still was.

All they had to do was change that.

“Let’s prove to them that humans can band together.”

And so the battle began.

■□■□■

The CRC needed to unite everyone within this world, and now they had a plan of action. They would tell everyone to support their friends instead of suspect and snap at them. Teach them that, when put into perspective, the phenomena weren’t really that big of a deal at all. Convince them that if they all worked together as one, they could eventually escape the Isolation Zone.

The CRC’s chosen objective: to get everyone to come together with an optimistic outlook. After all, everyone seemed convinced that they would be freed eventually, probably as a result of the hypnotherapy. So all the CRC had to do was act as a voice of encouragement and give them a little extra push to hang in there.

Plus, now that they knew it was safe, they were ready to discuss their own past experiences with the phenomena.

And so the CRC decided to be bold and take center stage for once.

First, they split into different teams. Then it was go time.

It was now approximately lunchtime, and there were no major developments. At noon the student council had made an announcement offering more food distribution, but they stressed that attendance was purely optional. As such, hardly anyone was headed to the gym.

Their priority was, of course, the vanishing students. Not much time had passed since the reveal this morning, so word of it likely hadn’t spread far. The student council had pledged to “investigate”—so what was their plan?

Taichi walked through the quiet school building, accompanied by Uwa Chihiro and Enjouji Shino. Through the clubroom window, they’d seen a handful of students on the athletic field, trying to find a way out. But what was everyone else up to?

No one in the West Wing... No one in the courtyard... Passing through the North Wing, they arrived at the East Wing. Here, the first-year classrooms were located on the first floor.

At long last, they could hear voices. While some groups had chosen to hole up in the comfort of their clubrooms, it appeared a majority of people had continued to gather in their assigned classrooms.

“Maybe we should have had each person in the club speak to their own class,” Taichi mused.

“Even then, someone was going to need to visit the gym,” Chihiro pointed out calmly.

“A-Alright, everyone! Let’s get in there!” Enjouji declared enthusiastically. “It’ll be fine! They’re all first-years like us, and... and we have Taichi-senpai’s sexy voice here with us!”

“The rest of me is here, too, you know...”

Chihiro and Enjouji were tasked with speaking to their fellow first-years, with Taichi present as backup if necessary, since he was well-known among the younger students as the former Love Guru. And so the three of them stepped into the room assigned to the first-years by the student council.

The moment they opened the door, all eyes turned to them, and there was a moment of fearful tension. Rough estimate: 20-plus students.

“...What’s up? Is this part of the student council thing?” one of the boys called.

“What ‘student council thing’?” Chihiro asked.

“Oh, uh... They came and took roll again, and then they told us to always keep an eye on our fellow group members...”

“Interesting. Well, to answer your question, no. This is something different.”

The three of them stood at the teacher’s podium.

“I don’t know if you guys have noticed, but we’re in no physical danger here. And I think it’s clear that this situation won’t last forever,” Taichi explained.

“So for the time being, we’d like everyone to work together,” Chihiro added.

“Let’s all reach out and support each other! Not just our friends, but everybody!” Enjouji exclaimed.

“Uhhh... I mean, I get where you’re coming from, and it makes sense, but... why are you guys telling us this?”

They had expected this reaction, and they had an answer prepared. All they had to do was say it. But it was still nerve-wracking. Once they played this card, they couldn’t masquerade as incidental victims any longer. They would be put under the spotlight, and they would have to be prepared for that.

“The truth is... we’ve experienced phenomena like these before, back in real life.”

At Taichi’s words, the room fell silent. Then a fever broke out.

“What?! No way!”

“You’ve been through this before?!”

“...In real life?!”

“Each time it happened, we banded together as a group, and eventually it came to an end. And although this is our first time being trapped in one location, I believe this will work the same way,” Taichi explained, careful not to imply that he knew anything about the emergency shutdown or how to end the experiment, lest «The Third» catch on. With this admission, surely the students would be more likely to take them seriously.

The first-years began to talk among themselves.

“Well... if it’s happening now, I guess it’s not that much of a stretch to believe that it’s happened before, too...”

“Wait, but... if these phenomena can happen in real life, then does that mean... we’re stuck with our phenomena forever?”

“No, I don’t think so. It seems like the phenomena are specifically restricted to this location somehow. So once we get out of here, I’m pretty sure we’ll be leaving all the supernatural stuff behind.”

He was starting to worry that he was letting too much slip, but thus far, nothing bad had happened.

“If what you’re saying is true...”

“We can probably trust the CRC on this.”

“It’s going to end eventually, so it makes sense that we should support each other in the meantime.”

Evidently the first-years were willing to be optimistic about this... although it didn’t seem like they had really thought it through, but rather, they were jumping at the first ray of hope they came across.

“Yaegashi-san! Are we just supposed to sit here?! There’s, like, literally nothing to do!” shouted a boy named Kimura. Back during the Dream Vision phenomenon, when the love craze was at its peak, Kimura had asked Taichi—a completely unaffiliated party, mind you—to participate in a debate regarding the tennis club. He was by no means a bad kid, but he lacked forethought and boundaries.

“All we ask is that you have consideration for your fellow students. Share information with each other, and if trouble breaks out, try to help smooth things over.”

“Got it! Guess what? Me and Shimono and Tada are all in the same group. Our phenomenon lets us randomly give orders to random subjects!”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s hard to explain with just words... Wait... Did it just happen? Oh my god, what crazy timing! Okay, Yaegashi-san, watch closely. Do a pirouette, Shimono!”

Kimura pointed at a boy with messy hair and glasses, who rose to his feet and did a spin. A beat later, the boy’s face flushed bright red.

“See? That’s how it works! But it has to be something they can do real quick, or else it won’t work.”

Unsurprisingly, Shimono was less than pleased. “The hell did you make me do that for, dipshit?! I’ll kick your ass!”

“C-Come on, man! I needed them to understand, didn’t I? Besides, it was just a little pirouette! And even if I didn’t say it out loud, it still would’ve happened anyway!”

“Damn it, Kimura! We agreed to keep our commands subtle so people wouldn’t notice them!”

Shimono stormed over to Kimura.

“W-Wait! Time out!” The other boy shrank back.

“No fighting!” Enjouji shrieked, at a volume usually unheard of for her.

Everyone turned to look at her, and for a moment she shrank back... but persisted nonetheless.

“We... We shouldn’t fight each other.”

“But he—”

Thankfully, Chihiro came to the rescue. “She’s right, Shimono. We all know Kimura’s a dumbass. Sometimes you have to just let it go.”

“Hey, come on, I’m not a dumbass! But I admit, what I did wasn’t cool. I’m sorry!”

“...Fine. In honor of Uwa white-knighting for Enjouji-san, I’ll let it go.”

“I was not white-knighting,” Chihiro retorted.

The first-years all seemed to be on such good terms with each other... It gave Taichi a bit of hope.

As they walked out of the classroom, Enjouji gasped for breath as if she was drowning. “Did we... achieve our goal...?”

“I think that’s the most we can expect for right now,” Chihiro nodded.

“...You know, I’m impressed how well you two are holding up,” Taichi remarked as the thought occurred to him.

“Uh, Taichi-san? Where did that come from?”

“It just crossed my mind, that’s all. You’ve had to tolerate so much insanity... First the phenomena, and now this...”

“You promised to stop patronizing us about this. We came here of our own free will.”

“It... It feels like you still don’t see us as equals...”

“...But you absolutely are. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

It was a sense of guilt that had pushed him to say that. What would he stand to gain by drawing a line between him and them? Nothing.

“This fight’s as real for us as it is for you,” Chihiro declared.

They all had something riding on this plan. Something worth protecting. And Chihiro and Enjouji were worthy allies in their own right.

■□■□■

“How’d it go?” Taichi asked as they met up with Inaba and Aoki near the gym.

“Well, they were willin’ to hear us out. Said they were more likely to believe us over the student council, since we have past experience. And they even bought into our slogan, ‘United ’til the end.’ ’Course, Inabacchan was the one who did all the talking!” Aoki explained.

“They seemed to agree with us, at least verbally. But I noticed there’s fewer people in the second-year classrooms... I mean, there’s supposed to be roughly 80 of them, not including us...” Inaba mused.

“Too many for you to handle?” Chihiro asked.

“Says the kid who would rather hide in the corner than speak to a crowd...”

“Wow. Is that how you see me? I mean, I won’t deny it, but... Huh?”

Just then, someone popped out of the West Wing, where the cafeteria and library were located, and made a beeline right for them.

“Hey, CRC!”

It was student council president Katori Jouji, accompanied by the vice president, the outreach committee, and Fujishima Maiko. What were they up to?

“I hear you’ve been acting independently from us. And not only that, but you have prior experience with the phenomena?!”

“We felt like the people needed to know, so we told them. That’s all,” Inaba shrugged in the face of Katori’s fury.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner? Was I right about you back then? Back when we were dealing with the rumors?”

“We didn’t want to jump to any hasty conclusions. We may have experience with the phenomena, but this is still our first time being trapped in one specific location, so we wanted to make sure we knew what we were dealing with.”

“You still should have put everything on the table upfront. And if you’re going to take action, get my permission first.”

“Who died and made you dictator?”

“There can only be one person at the top, or it’ll cause conflict. Now quit acting out of turn, goddamn it.”

“Katori-kun, don’t you think—”

“Did you say something, Fujishima?”

“...No, it’s nothing...”

For a second it looked like Fujishima was going to intervene, but then she backed down.

“Real talk, don’tcha think there’s kinda no point in us bickering about it now?” Aoki offered, casually changing the flow of the conversation. It was an impressive move, and Taichi was more than happy to join in.

“We all need to be on the same page, including the student council. Right, Inaba?”

“Well, obviously. But if we’re pointing fingers, then they’re the ones to blame.”

Katori clapped his hands together. “Alright, I’ll take the blame for this one. I shouldn’t have bit your heads off without hearing you out first. After all, we owe it to your past experience that you’re all calm enough to focus on helping other people.”

“Yeah? And?”

“Let’s discuss things with each other before we go around making big speeches to the rest of the student body. Both your group and ours. And if you have any additional info about the phenomena, we’d love to hear it.”

“You’re right... Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to act on our own.”

The guy had a point; even Inaba could see that. The tension between them softened, and everyone looked relieved, even VP Sasaki and the outreach committee. The CRC weren’t the only ones working to help the victims. Katori was doing his best to do what he believed was right, and infighting wouldn’t help anyone.

“Okay then, uh... You know about our mind-reading phenomenon, right? I’d like to know what phenomena you guys have, for future reference.”

At Inaba’s request, Katori grimaced—but he seemed to intuit that he couldn’t very well avoid answering the question. Honestly, it was kind of strange that they hadn’t noticed so much as a trace of anything supernatural going on with the student council thus far. Could it be chalked up to a simple matter of timing? Or were they intentionally keeping it discreet?

“Myself and the rest of the student council are currently undergoing a phenomenon in which we can see the future experiences of our fellow members.”

“Future experiences...? What, so you get visions of the future?”

“Mmm, I don’t know if I’d call ten seconds from now ‘the future.’ Not like we’re able to see the outcome, either.”

“So all you see is the actions they start to take?”

“I’d say that’s a pretty apt description.”

While it sounded like they couldn’t do anything to change each other’s futures, they were still made aware of each other’s actions. This would also explain why their phenomenon wasn’t outwardly visible.

From there, Katori asked the CRC about their past experiences, and so they (primarily Inaba) went into detail about the body-swap and the Liberation. They had decided not to mention the rest of them to anyone, since it might frighten people to learn exactly how many phenomena the CRC had gone through. After all, it might make them think that there really was no end in sight...

“So in both cases, the only solution was to sit around and wait? That’s not much help,” Katori complained. Evidently he’d been hoping for something more promising.

“That’s just how these things work. Which is why we were trying to explain it to everyone.”

“Though it’d be annoying if people started to listen to you,” Katori muttered under his breath.

And so, with a firm agreement to stay in touch, the CRC and student council went their separate ways.

“Perhaps we should find out what everyone thinks of the speeches you gave. That way we can see whether you’ve filled their heads with nonsense,” Katori declared.

“At least you’re honest, I guess,” Inaba snarked.

“Well, see you!” said vice president Sasaki with a quick bow.

“Let’s go, guys!” first-year Adachi announced to the outreach committee.

“Yes, ma’am!” Fujishima answered.

Wait, what?

“Hold on a sec! I was gonna let it go, but... isn’t this kind of backwards? I mean, you’re a first-year! Shouldn’t Fujishima-san be the one calling the shots?” Aoki asked.

Why on earth would a first-year be in charge?

Fujishima stopped short, as did Adachi.

“S-Sorry about that, Fujishima-san! I didn’t mean to be rude!” Adachi shouted, bowing in apology several times in quick succession.

“Don’t worry about it. You run along without me.”

“R-Right you are, boss!”

This time Fujishima took charge, sending Adachi away. Then, once the rest of her group had left, she turned back to the CRC.

“If you’re looking for an explanation... The four members of the student council outreach committee, yours truly included, are all facing a phenomenon in which we perform each other’s roles at random.”

“How does that work?” Taichi asked.

“When the phenomenon strikes, I sort of... step into someone else’s shoes, mentally speaking. And in exchange, someone steps into mine. It’s a compulsion we feel, deep down.”

“That sounds kind of complicated... but in practice, it’s probably not so bad,” Chihiro muttered.

“H-Hang in there, Fujishima-senpai!” Enjouji called.

“...Thank you. I will.”

But before she could leave, Inaba stopped her.

“Hey, Fujishima... I’d like to ask you something. Earlier, when Katori and I were starting to get into it... You were going to intervene, but then you seemed to change your mind. Was that an effect of your phenomenon?”

Fujishima flinched slightly.

“I don’t know if you can relate, but... sometimes, all that motivates me to do my job is the knowledge that it’s my role to play,” she explained without turning back, her fingers clutching the student council armband affixed to her left arm. “And when those lines get blurry, well... it makes me wonder why I should bother working hard at all.”

Unfortunately, the CRC didn’t have a solution to her worries.

■□■□■

Time passed, and the sun set once more. Meanwhile, the CRC continued to encourage everyone to support each other. Supposedly Katori had made the rounds through the school building as well, but there were no major incidents.

Wherever there was a gathering of people, the CRC stopped in to give a speech. Additionally, they did their best to track down the fringe groups, like Kurihara’s, and talk to them as well. Then they met back up, reshuffled their teams, and headed back out again.

This time, Taichi was accompanied by Nagase and Kiriyama as he walked down the hall.

“Whew... We’ve worked from sunrise all the way to sundown!” Nagase exclaimed, stretching her arms. “Ugh, just saying it out loud makes me want to pass out.”

“But all we’ve done is ask them to band together. We’re only just getting started,” Taichi cautioned her.

Obviously these people weren’t going to jump onboard at the drop of a hat. It would take more than words or deeds to truly convince even one person... and they were dealing with far more than just one.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why we’re making a second pass, right?”

Indeed, they were all going to check back in with the same classrooms and clubrooms they visited earlier. Partly they were hoping to get feedback from the other students, but they also wanted to make sure no shutdown-worthy incidents had occurred in the interim. They couldn’t let their guard down for even a single moment.

“Am I overthinking things, or are there, like, way more people outside now?” Kiriyama muttered as she looked at the students on the athletic field.

“I was told they’re making one last attempt to look for a way out,” Taichi commented as he thought back to some conversations he’d had earlier. Several different people had expressed their desire to try to get out. They seemed aware that it was futile, and yet... he got the sense that they just couldn’t let go somehow.

The three of them headed into Classroom 2-B. And since they knew they could expect to see a lot of familiar faces, they weren’t too shy about pulling open the door and—

Stunned, they stopped short. The room was practically deserted, save for two groups: Nakayama’s and Miyagami’s. Eight people in total.

“What the...? Where is everyone?” asked a perplexed Kiriyama.

“Why’d it get so quiet all of a sudden? Where’s the other 60 percent of the class?” asked Nagase.

Both Nagase and Kiriyama had visited this classroom earlier at lunchtime, and they’d observed 20-plus students present at the time.

“They all left,” said class president Setouchi, sounding utterly defeated.

“What happened? When we talked to them earlier, they sounded like they were willing to try to work together!” Kiriyama protested weakly.

“Yeah, and they did try,” said Watase. “They tried to be open with each other about their phenomena. But it didn’t go well.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” asked Taichi, panicked.

“There was a bit of an argument, and then the relevant parties were ‘too embarrassed’ to stay in the classroom any longer,” Ishikawa explained calmly.

“But... our whole point was that we need to overcome those petty squabbles and stick together...”

“Yeah, but once people start pointing fingers and suspecting each other, the only option is to leave,” said Miyagami as he fidgeted with his glasses.

“Oh, but it sounded like they were going to stay in their phenomenon groups, at least,” Sone added helpfully.

That made sense, since most people had been grouped up with their classmates or clubmates—people they saw as friends.

“But we wanted to stay, since you asked us to... and it sounds like you have experience with all this,” said Nakayama.

“Thank you for trusting us, Nakayama-chan,” Nagase replied.

“Aw, no prob! It’s obviously the right thing to do, y’know?” she grinned. “But... Wait... Oh no, I think it’s happening...”

With no more warning than that, Nakayama grimaced and squeezed one of her pigtails, like she was trying to brace herself against... something.

“Are you alright, Nakayama? Who is it this time?” asked Ishikawa, her boyfriend, as he hurried over.

But Nakayama ignored him and started walking, unsteadily, in the direction of Watase. When she reached him, she stopped short and collapsed against him.

“Whoa!” Hastily, he moved to support her weight.

“Heeheehee...” Grinning, Nakayama clung to him, nuzzling her face playfully against his—and a split-second later, her eyes widened in horror as she shoved him away at full force, leaping backwards. In the momentum, she slammed her hip against the desk behind her. “Ouch!”

“Wh-... What’s going on all of a sudden?!” Nagase yelped.

“Goddamn it, they’ve been like this all day! I’m so jealous, I could die!”

“...I can feel your pain, Miyagami... Now my heart’s breaking in more ways than one...”

“I really wish our phenomenon wouldn’t pick the worst possible times to trigger!”

Apparently Sone had picked up Miyagami’s Sentiment Transmission.

“Okay, but seriously, like... what was that?” Kiriyama asked, tilting her head as she looked around the room at everyone present.

Meanwhile, Nakayama silently stared at the floor, her face bright red as she rubbed her hip.

“It’s our phenomenon,” Setouchi sighed. “When it strikes, it chooses someone at random and changes how you feel about them. One minute you might like them, and the next minute you might hate them.”

“And you can’t fight those feelings, either. Your body acts on them either way,” Watase added, his expression muted.

“And the degree of intensity is random, too. Sometimes it’s faint, and sometimes it’s overpowering. Sometimes it strikes all at once, and sometimes there’s a slow buildup. Sometimes it lasts for just a few seconds, and other times it lasts longer. My guess is, it hit Nakayama-chan hard and fast that time. Right?”

“I... I’m so ashamed...”

“It’s okay, Nakayama-chan! You’re always physically affectionate with us girls, right? This time it was with a guy, that’s all!”

“That doesn’t make it okay, Iori!”

“It’s alright. I know it’s just the phenomenon at work,” Ishikawa reassured his girlfriend.

“I’m so sorry, Ishikawa-kun... I’m sorry for what I did...”

“It was just the phenomenon. It’s okay,” he declared firmly, like a total badass, and Nakayama smiled softly.

But Taichi had seen the pained look on Ishikawa’s face as Nakayama pressed herself against Watase. Not to suggest Ishikawa was lying to her on purpose, but he was by no means okay. And those feelings would slowly build up over time... What would happen when it all reached a breaking point?

Then Miyagami changed the subject—whether intentionally or not, it was hard to say.

“I gotta say, Yaegashi, I’m impressed with the CRC taking charge. I get that you have past experience, but still... you’re not the student council or anything, y’know?”

“Well, we wanted to help everyone—”

Out of nowhere, a loud voice rang out from the hallway: “No one said anything about that!”

The tension was palpable. At first it froze Taichi in place, but he quickly snapped himself out of it. “Nagase, Kiriyama, let’s go. The rest of you, stay here!”

“Huh? Yaegashi-kun? Iori? Yui-chan?”

“We’ll talk to you guys later!” Nagase shouted as the CRC made a beeline for the door.

As they ran out into the hall, they spotted a group of girls standing near the stairway landing.

“You wouldn’t have acted that way if you didn’t see it that way!”

“I’m telling you, it was the stupid phenomenon!”

“Guys, let’s calm down...”

“The phenomenon has nothing to do with this!”

They were having a heated argument.

“This looks bad...”

Images flashed through Taichi’s mind. Fighting, drifting apart, vanishing into thin air. The emergency shutdown.

Obviously he had no way of knowing their current mental states, but still, they couldn’t turn a blind eye to this.

“We gotta stop them!”

Nagase took off running. Taichi and Kiriyama followed after her.

“Shut the hell up! I’m sick of you!”

“Well, what a coincidence! Because I’m sick of you!”

One of the arguing girls turned away... only to end up face to face with the CRC. For a moment, she stopped short in surprise, but then she collected herself and stormed away from the scene, her face flushed red. Meanwhile, the other participant in the argument ran down the stairs in the opposite direction... leaving a third girl, the one who had tried to play mediator, behind. She was rooted to the spot, visibly unsure of what to do.

Taichi called out to the girl headed their way. “What happened? I know these phenomena can cause a lot of problems, and if you’d like to talk to us about it, we’re here for you.”

“I’m going that way!” Kiriyama declared as Taichi spoke, running past him and down the stairs.

Meanwhile, the girl Taichi spoke to stared at the floor and tried to keep walking.

“Come on,” Nagase called to her.

“What the hell do you people want from me?! You don’t even know me!”

“I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you. Take some time to be alone if you need it, but once you’ve calmed down, you should try talking to her again. She’s your friend, you know? You don’t want it to end like—”

“Just be quiet!”

With that, the girl raced down the hall to the stairs, turned the corner, and—

“Aaah!”

“Look out!” Taichi shouted, but it was too late.

She was in such a rush, she lost her balance and fell to the ground on her behind. Taichi raced over to her.

“Ow ow ow...”

The girl clutched at her tailbone, but other than that, she seemed to be fine... On second thought, he should have expected this, since no serious injury was possible here in the Isolation Zone.

“God, it hurts! I’m sick of this! It’s not supposed to be like this!”

“Hey, uh, are you alright? Can you stand?” Nagase reached out and took her by the arm.

“I can’t do this anymore... I’m so pathetic...!”

The girl started to sob. Nagase pulled her up, and she rose onto her feet.

“For now, let’s go find the rest of your group,” said Taichi.

“What for? This whole time, she was acting like she was my friend, but deep down, she never actually liked me. And I was stupid for believing she ever did. So yeah, friendship over.”

“It’s not over! It’s not!” Taichi insisted hastily. The girl seemed like she’d completely given in to despair, and it was making him panic.

“You’re right... It’s not over. Because it never even started.”

“If you just talk it out with her, I’m sure it’ll work out!”

He had no evidence of this, but he spoke firmly, as though he did. Then her expression softened, and he wondered if perhaps he’d finally gotten through to her... but before he could heave a sigh of relief, he realized her smile was one of defeat.

“As much as I’d like that... I just don’t think it’s possible with this phenomena stuff goi—Huh?”

Suddenly she froze, confused, right in the middle of her sentence. There was a strange pause as her tears dried.

“What’s... wrong...?”

“Uh... I don’t... know...?” She blinked like a newborn kitten. Something felt off about her.

“Well, if you’re feeling up to it, let’s go find your friends.”

“Um... okay...”

She obediently followed Taichi and the others as they set off walking. His heart started to pound in his chest. Why was she so different all of a sudden?

Then the third girl—the mediator girl who was left behind after the other two went their separate ways—spotted them and ran over.

“Miu! Miu! Let’s agree not to fight anymore, okay? We can talk it out with her!”

“Uhh... who are you?”

Instantly, goosebumps broke out all over Taichi’s body.

And the next moment, the presence next to him... disappeared?

He turned his head to look.

She was there just a second ago, and now she wasn’t.

Could she have teleported? Could she have run to the end of the hall? Could she have jumped out of the window?

“...She vanished...?” the other girl asked.

“IORI! TAICHI!”

Right at that moment, Kiriyama came barreling up the stairs at the speed of light. She dashed over to where they were standing and hit the brakes.

“The girl who went down the stairs—she’s gone! It’s like she vanished! I’m sure I would’ve noticed her sneaking away from me... She didn’t come this way, did she?!”

“...Vanished...?” The other girl collapsed on the spot.

Now new voices joined them from down the hall.

“Whoa, are you okay?! Who vanished?! Wait... What happened to the third girl?”

“People are... disappearing...?”

It was the group of eight from Classroom 2-B, peering at them through the open door.

■□■□■

Night fell, and soon it would be time for dinner rations to be handed out. Katori had put out an intercom announcement requesting everyone to meet up in the gym. But first, the CRC gathered in the courtyard to have a discussion.

“They vanished?”

“Two of them?”

At the news, Chihiro and Enjouji started to tremble.

“We completely misjudged what we’re up against... The criteria... The rate of acceleration...” Inaba’s face was ashen as she came to terms with her own miscalculations. “It’s all too easy to cause a shutdown in here... Now that I think about it, this should’ve been obvious, but we let ourselves get too comfy with «Heartseed»’s way of doing things...”

“Whoever «The Third» is, it’s nothing like what we’re used to. And «The Second» is pretty weird, too,” Nagase added, her tone laced with mild panic. “Do you think... maybe this is their normal speed?”

It was hard to say... but right now, it was «The Third»’s group who set the rules.

“Hey, guys? What should we do about Nakayama-chan and Watase-kun? And all the other people who saw them disappear?” Kiriyama asked anxiously.

Having witnessed the emergency shutdown, Watase and the others were now completely unnerved. At the time, the CRC’s only option was to say they would look around to see if they could find the missing girls.

As of this morning, they had convinced everyone who had lost a friend to the emergency shutdown to stay quiet about it, but at this rate, there were probably other instances of shutdowns they knew nothing about.

“Right now, Katori’s group is going around questioning people about it in the name of ‘investigation’... We ought to follow up with them, but we don’t have enough hands...! Argh!” Inaba clutched at her hair in frustration.

They were falling behind in every capacity.

“We need to change how we do things,” Inaba declared, a suggestion the club was unanimously in favor of. There was no use reaching out on an individual basis. And so their next plan of attack would take place in the gym, where everyone had gathered for dinner rations.

But the summons didn’t reach the full population; only 70 or 80 people turned up. Of the absent students, some had chosen not to go, while others were no longer around to hear the announcement at all, thanks to the emergency shutdown. At least, that was their current hypothesis.

When they struck upon the idea of going around campus to check on the absentees, Chihiro and Enjouji volunteered for the task.

“If we find anyone, we’ll encourage them to go to the gym!”

“We just gotta pray that most of these people are still around somewhere... See you later.”

Once the first-years were gone, the five second-years of the CRC headed off to their battlefield.

One by one, they filed onto the stage. Now that they were elevated above the crowd, approximately 80 pairs of eyes turned to look at them. They had full permission from Katori to do this—as long as he could be right nearby to supervise them.

“We’re the Cultural Research Club, and if you’d be willing to give us a moment of your time, we’d like to talk to everyone.”

There was only one mic, so they were required to take turns to use it. First up was Taichi.

“Earlier today we visited a few classrooms and other groups, but now we’d like to make a formal appeal to everyone: We shouldn’t let this divide us. We must all stay united.”

The microphone magnified his voice, carrying it across the gym and through the speakers, to the point that it didn’t really sound like his voice anymore. Not only was he nervous to speak in front of a large crowd, but he was terrified of «The Third» realizing they knew too much. It felt like his soul was trying to leave his body.

Then Nagase pressed a hand to his chest and gently pushed him out of the way so she could speak.

“We know this is all going to end eventually, so in the meantime, let’s all work together to support each other.”

The crowd started to whisper amongst themselves. It wasn’t clear whether the reaction was positive or negative; mostly they were just confused as to why this message was coming from the CRC of all people.

Then it was Kiriyama’s turn, and Taichi shuffled further to the side to accommodate her.

“In case anybody hasn’t heard, we’ve actually dealt with these phenomena in the past.”

The murmuring grew distinctly louder. Then Aoki took the mic.

“And we made it through A-OK! Sounds like we prolly know what we’re talkin’ about, am I right?”

Then, lastly, their MVP walked up—Inaba.

“So in order to get us all through this as safely as possible, rather than letting everyone roam around willy-nilly, we’d like to propose assigned locations for each group.”

In other words, a system of documentation. This way the CRC could keep track of everyone at all times.

Unsurprisingly, the crowd reacted with uncertainty. Perhaps they sensed that there was some sort of danger afoot.

“Hold it,” called an icy voice.

Katori Jouji walked onstage, a wireless microphone in hand.

“You want to create a management system? Funny, I didn’t get the memo.”

“You gave us permission to have this conversation, remember?”

“I was under the impression you were going to talk about yourselves. You need to talk to me about these things in advance. Or what, you think you can organize it all on your own?”

Sparks flew between Katori and Inaba. In a way, it felt like they were both looking for any excuse to bite each other’s heads off. The crowd was practically rolling their eyes.

Then a hand shot straight into the air as a voice called out: “I wanna ask something!”

“Is that you, Watase? Go for it,” Katori answered into his mic.

But Watase shook his head. “Not you, Prez—I wanna ask Yaegashi and the rest of the CRC!”

As the crowd grew quiet, his voice echoed through the gym, even without the help of a microphone.

“I mean, not to interrupt the little party you guys are having up there, but I want answers!”

At this, it occurred to Taichi just how much time they’d wasted arguing with Katori.

“So what’s the story with people disappearing, exactly? Do you have any information on that?”

“N-Not really... This is my first time being trapped in one fixed location like this,” Inaba stammered awkwardly. She probably wasn’t prepared to discuss it in front of a giant audience.

Then Watase fixed Taichi with an intent, searching look. Did he intentionally ask them in front of everyone so that they wouldn’t be able to backpedal out of it?

“We’ve been aware of this issue for quite some time, and currently we’re investigating the situation. It seems like quite a few people who were originally trapped here with us are now missing,” Katori declared confidently, possibly to spite Inaba.

However... this only kindled a sense of unrest from the crowd. The murmurs from earlier transformed into something quite different. Then a different person called out:

“Okay, but... they haven’t literally vanished, right? It’s not like we’ll never see them ever again, right?”

It was Setouchi Kaoru, standing close to Watase.

“Of all the times we spent enduring the phenomena, not once have we ever been in any serious danger, so... I’d say we don’t have to worry about that,” Inaba replied.

The CRC knew the truth, of course, since «Heartseed» and «The Second» had told them directly. But it wasn’t safe to reveal it here.

“Do you think maybe they escaped?” called Nakayama Mariko. Indeed, this was the easiest possibility one could arrive at.

“It doesn’t really seem to be that easy to get out of here, so... somehow I don’t think that’s the case...”

“I thought you guys were supposed to know these things! Do you have the answers or not?!” shouted some other voice from the crowd—a frustrated voice.

“Watase, you and the rest of your group were there when it happened. You saw what they were like right before they disappeared, didn’t you? Did it seem like a positive outcome?”

Inaba was trying to cast a negative light on the circumstances surrounding the disappearances.

“Well, when you put it that way, no...”

“There you have it. We don’t know enough about it to say it’s safe. Therefore, we should put some rules in place so we can all stay together.”

At last, she reached the point she was trying to make.

“I’m afraid I can’t readily agree to that, CRC,” said Katori into his mic.

“Why are you being such a naysayer?” Taichi asked Katori reflexively.

“What, you want me to just nod along to whatever you say? That’s absurd. Fact is, anyone with an objective view of the situation would question your proposal.”

“You want to know another fun fact? It looks like you’re shooting us down with no clear reason behind it,” Inaba shot back.

“What evidence is there that we’ll have an easier time if we all stick together?”

“If we’re all in close proximity of one another, we’ll be able to respond if any trouble breaks out. You can’t deny that.”

“Don’t you think maybe these problems are caused by people staying in close proximity?”

“But these problems can be resolved with communication and understanding.”

Taichi and the others watched with bated breath as the argument continued back and forth.

“I’m sure all your past experience has made you feel that way about yourselves. But are you confident that will apply to everyone here?”

“You can’t be sure that it won’t.”

“So there’s no definitive evidence either way. In that case, why not let everyone decide for themselves?”

“Because...!” Inaba grimaced and fell silent.

Because it wasn’t the right thing to do. It clearly wasn’t. But right now, given the current flow of the conversation, they were at a disadvantage. Katori was making them look like they were trying to force their beliefs on everyone.

“Yes, everyone should be free to decide for themselves. All we want is for people to hear us out and consider our viewpoint, because we don’t think it’s a good idea for everyone to distance themselves,” Inaba continued, not to Katori, but to the crowd.

“Whoa now, don’t get the wrong idea. I do want to work with you, and in fact, I do think some order should be established. That’s why I keep gathering everyone here.” Katori was quick to ensure he stayed in the crowd’s good graces. “I just don’t think we should be placing restrictions on people. Doesn’t it make more sense to let everyone do whatever makes them most comfortable?”

“And what is that supposed to be?! What is your recommendation here?!” a voice shouted from the crowd. Whoever it was, they didn’t raise their hand as they spoke, so it was impossible to tell who it was.

“We’re looking into it at the moment.”

“Isn’t that what you said on day one?” shouted a feminine voice.

“Hurry up already!” shouted another girl.

The mood in the gym was slowly turning oppressive and hostile. They were openly criticizing Katori. But was this advantageous to the CRC?

“Not that the CRC’s idea is any better...”

“There’s no way we can all stick together. Not with these phenomena.”

“I feel like the President will figure something out for us eventually...”

“If he doesn’t, we’re screwed!”

All at once, a dozen different opinions flew around the room. They were directed at each other rather than Katori or the CRC, but they were still spoken at a volume loud enough for the people onstage to hear. In this giant mass of people, there was no way to discern who said what.

Normally whenever someone spoke out in a crowd, the people around them would instinctively turn to look at them, but no one did. Almost as though these opinions represented the will of the people. Granted, maybe Taichi was just being paranoid, but... without a name to attach to the opinion, it felt like that opinion was coming from the entire student body...

Either way, it was clear that neither the CRC nor the student council had won the crowd’s support. A haze of unease and discontent swirled all around them. So instead of prolonging their speech, the CRC ended the conversation with “Please give it some thought” and walked offstage.

“Well, that didn’t go over as well as it could have,” Kiriyama muttered once they were safely out of sight.

“Not our fault. Katori derailed the whole thing,” Inaba growled. “If we let ourselves keep bickering with him, we’d end up splitting the whole group into ‘Katori’ and ‘CRC’ factions. And lest we forget, we’re trying to protect everyone—including him.”

“Is it just me, or did it feel like he was looking for any reason to fight us?” Taichi mused. He couldn’t help but wish Katori would see things their way. With the student council on their side, they would have a fighting chance of bringing everyone together.

“You!”

“What the?!” Kiriyama whipped around in a karate stance, but then she saw who it was and relaxed. “Oh, it’s Katori-kun.”

“You people think you can decide these things for everyone? Hardly democratic, wouldn’t you say?”

“I apologize for failing to communicate it to you, but we’ve been busy,” Inaba replied.

“You never stop to think about us; you always try to handle it all yourselves. Why is it you can’t consider the possibility that you’re wrong? Is it your past experience giving you false confidence?”

“We take all kinds of things into consideration before we take action,” Taichi shot back reflexively.

“And yet you act like you’re the ultimate authority.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Inaba snarked.

“I only act that way because I have a reputation to uphold as the student council president. When it comes down to it, I always let the group decide.” He looked over his shoulder at the student council members standing behind him. “How about it, guys? Are you on board with the CRC? Wanna take their gamble?”

At this sudden question, the rest of the student council reacted with uncertainty.

“Uhhh... I mean, if I had to choose...”

“We’re on the student council. Obviously we’d be on your side, Prez.”

“If you want to go for it, Prez, then I’m all for it.”

Katori nodded, smugly satisfied. “Clearly it was a mistake to let you people run wild. Now everyone’s confused. We’ll be better off if I run everything myself, like they want me to... Yes, I’ve got just the ticket...”

Muttering to himself, Katori and the rest of the student council walked off. And as Taichi watched them go, he couldn’t help but worry that this was representative of a deep fissure between them.

But there was one person who stayed behind: Fujishima Maiko. She stood a short distance away from them, cradling one arm protectively.

“To be honest... you people scare me.”

“How come?” Taichi asked, confused.

“It feels like... like you’re above it all, somehow.”

Once Chihiro and Enjouji returned from doing their rounds, they learned that many of the students who didn’t turn up at the gym were indeed present elsewhere on campus.

But the atmosphere was clearly starting to change.

A movement was building. A big one.