The Empty Box and Zeroth Maria
Book 1: Chapter 12

27,754^th Time

After everything imploded between Otonashi and me, not to mention my unexpected summons from Kokone, I’m thoroughly spent… That’s just an excuse, though.

The truth is that I completely forgot.

There’s an accident that always occurs at this intersection, like clockwork.

I’m in no danger myself. The shock of dying was enough that the collision now instantly surfaces in my mind like a conditioned response as soon as I approach the intersection. Keeping myself out of danger isn’t an issue.

That alone isn’t enough to guarantee that disaster won’t strike, though. Assuming the accident here is inevitable, all it means is that the truck will hit someone else.

That’s what always escapes me, and that’s why I’m unable to save anyone. Even though I know someone will be hurt, I’ve never prevented it. Forgetfulness is the cheapest of excuses.

I’m absolute scum.I might as well be killing the victim myself.

Kasumi Mogi is at the intersection.

The truck comes barreling down the road as it always does.

It’s impossible to do anything for her from where I stand. No matter how fast I run, I’ll never close that distance in time.

She’ll end up covered in blood. The girl I like will become a bloody mess. And it’ll happen because of me.

Again and again, I’ll watch it happen; again and again, the girl I like will be dyed in red. Again and again, it’ll be my fault.

“AAAAAAAHHHH!!”

I sprint toward the truck. Am I doing it to try and save Mogi? No. That isn’t it at all. I’m just pretending to do something so I can satisfy my guilty conscience with the claim that I tried.

I’m scum, the lowest of the low.

And then I watch it happen.

“Huh…?”

The girl I have no chance of saving is pushed out of the way of the truck.

It isn’t me.

She’s always too far for me to reach, even at my most frantic.

There’s only one person who could.

The girl who always struggles on alone as I cast aside my memories and pretend not to know.

She’ll never make it. She’ll never have time to save herself.

All the same, Aya Otonashi runs out to save Mogi.

There it is. Now I remember.

I’ve witnessed this very scene many times before.

Things are always repeating themselves, anyway. Even Mogi’s survival will fade into nothingness. All that remains is a memory nearly as painful as dying, the fear of witnessing death right before my eyes, and the despair of knowing that all of this will occur again and again.

Despite everything, Aya Otonashi leaps in front of the truck to save whoever who will be hit that day, over and over and over again.

I understand now.

How could I have forgotten this?

There’s the sound of heavy impact and a deafening crash as the truck continues along its course and plows through the wall along the road.

The cacophony threatens to overwhelm me, but I still manage to make my way to Otonashi. Next to her, Mogi lies stiff as a board right where she landed, her expression blank in shock.

I look at Otonashi.

Her left leg is twisted at an impossible angle.

She’s covered in a thick sweat, and as she sees me, she speaks with an expression so brave one would hardly suspect she was injured.

“I killed you last time.” Her words are clear and precise, though it must be torture for her to speak. “I thought this would end if I killed the owner of the Box. I was wrong. But at the time, I believed that what I was doing was the only way to escape from the Rejecting Classroom. I thought I was doing the right thing, because once I got out of the classroom, I would reset, and the me who was forced to such inhuman extremes would disappear.”

Everything finally falls into place. I know why Otonashi pretended to forget everything this time.

She lost all respect for herself.

She couldn’t forgive herself for thinking it was okay if I died when I had my accident.

Her guilt was enough to make her cast aside the goal of obtaining the Box that kept her going for so long, and even the thought of escaping the Rejecting Classroom.

It was enough that she couldn’t fight back when I screamed:

“If you care so much about human lives, then why did you kill me?!”

How could I have said such a horrible thing to her, especially when I had no basis for it?

Last time, I dashed out to save Mogi and ended up dying in the accident. Just as I assumed Otonashi was in essence murdering Mogi with the truck, I assumed she had killed me. I held on to this assumption, and it became why I said what I did. I should have known from the moment she vehemently denied the very thought of murdering our classmates. The truth was only that she arrived too late to save my life.

For some reason, this accident is unavoidable. Someone is always inevitably hit by the truck, and it just happened to be me that time.

“Heh, it’s all so laughable. My crimes wouldn’t vanish just because I forgot them. The Rejecting Classroom didn’t vanish, and I now have no choice but to live with myself knowing how low I sank. Not even poetic justice is enough for this.”

She coughs up a bit of blood as she finishes her last words.

“Otonashi, if you’re in pain, you shouldn’t talk…”

“But when else will I get the chance? I’m used to the pain. It all depends on how you think about it. I’d rather experience temporary pain like this than the long, drawn out agony of a chronic illness.”

I don’t think anyone can say they’ve “gotten used to” getting hit by a truck.

“I didn’t lose my memory or escape from the Rejecting Classroom. Heh-heh, I feel like I already knew that, though. That I would never be released.”

“…Why?”

“It’s so simple. I know exactly why. My obsession won’t let go of me that easily.”

Otonashi struggles unsteadily to her feet. She should’ve stayed where she was, but I get the feeling she can’t stand me looking down on her.

Her left leg is completely useless. She doubles over in a coughing fit, spitting up blood. But once she’s able to lean against the guardrail for support, she seems to stand as tall as ever, watching me all the while.

Maybe because of Otonashi’s movement, Mogi stirs from where she was lying in frozen, blank-faced shock. She looks over at me fearfully.

“…Mogi, are you all right?”

“……Eek!”

She screams as if she’s remembering what happened.

“Wh-what were you two just talking about…? Not just now, since yesterday. Who are you?”

…What? Who is she looking at like that? Who would fill her eyes with such terror?

…I already know. She’s looking at me.

I can’t bear to see her so frightened, and instinctively, I reach out to cup her face with my hand.

“D-don’t touch me!!”

Of course… What was I thinking? It’s obviously me she’s scared of, so what did I think trying to touch her would do? Did I really think that would put her at ease? Can I even help her calm down at all? No, I can’t.

“Who…are you…?”

My hands clench into fists. I can’t explain anything, so I have to just take her frightened stare. I want to tell Mogi everything right now. She might understand my situation.

But I know it would be the wrong thing to do.

I have to fight. I have to beat the Rejecting Classroom.

In order to do that, I have to reject the daily life it’s forcing us to relive.

I set myself on that course the moment I took Otonashi’s hand. I’ll throw it all away. The idea that Mogi might smile at my words someday, that she might blush, that she’ll let me rest my head in her lap—all of it.

With no explanation forthcoming from me, Mogi gives up trying to understand and stands, frightened.

She begins backing away from us, obviously praying that we won’t come after her, before turning and running away on feet so unsteady it seems she could topple over at any moment.

I watch her go, never once averting my gaze.

This is exactly the way I hoped things would happen.

“I can tell you’re determined.”

Otonashi saw everything from where she was leaning against the guardrail.

“That’s why I’ve made up my mind, too. I won’t focus my efforts anymore on obtaining the Box in order to achieve my goal.”

“…What?”

This is a problem. I can’t have this. I need Otonashi.

I’m about to cut in and try to stop her, when…

“Instead, I’m going to help you.”

“…Huh?”

Those are the last words I expected to hear from her.

Help me? Aya Otonashi is going to helpme?

“You’re standing there like some sort of slack-jawed idiot. I said I’m going to work with you. Didn’t you hear me?”

This goes against the laws of nature, like the sun rising in the west and setting in the east.

“I was lost. As you pointed out, I killed you and, in doing so, reduced myself to something less than human. I just didn’t want to admit it, so I became a coward who denied it and fled from her own purpose. The bottom line is that the Rejecting Classroom had me beat. I’m just a Box, and after that defeat, I went astray, believing there was no longer anything I could do.”

Though she’s berating herself, the strong light burning in Otonashi’s eyes fills me with a bit of relief.

“But there’s no longer any reason to be lost. I’m ashamed of my actions, but that’s no reason to wither in despair. Regrets won’t solve anything. I’m through running. I’ll embrace my sin and help you as my penance. So please…”

Otonashi closes her mouth, mustering her strength for what she’s about to say.

As she begins to speak again, she regards me with something bordering on a glare.

“So please, forgive me.”

Ah, now I understand. That’s what this is all about.

This strange behavior is her way of apologizing.

However, her entreaty is all but meaningless.

“I can’t.”

My blunt response seems to catch her off guard momentarily, but she quickly recovers her stern expression.

“I see… It certainly would be impossible to forgive someone for murdering you. That’s only natural.”

“That’s not it.”

My words must have puzzled her, because she’s frowning.

“I mean…I don’t even know what I’m supposed to forgive.”

That’s right. It isn’t that Iwon’t forgive her so much as that Ican’t forgive her, because in my mind, she hasn’t done anything wrong.

“…What’re you saying, Hoshino? I—”

“You killed me?”

“…Yes.”

“What’re you talking about?”

I can’t help but smile.

“I’m right here, aren’t I?”

It’s the truth, plain and simple.

“I’m right here, Otonashi.”

No matter how responsible she feels, it’s not like what she did was irredeemable.

In fact, I can’t understand why she feels like it was her fault in the first place. It’s not like she’s the one who made the Rejecting Classroom, after all. She’s just caught in its trap like the rest of us.

No, that isn’t right.

She isn’t just some victim. She’s in control. She appreciates how all our minds work and can interpret our behavior. No matter where she throws a stone in here, she knows exactly how the ripples will spread. Otonashi is just as much the master of this realm as the one who created it, perhaps even more so.

It’s precisely because Otonashi has so much control here that she feels responsible for everything that happens. She feels that if she only planned better, she could have saved me from death. In her mind, the fact that she couldn’t prevent my death, that she didn’t prevent it, is the same as having killed me with her own hands.

But Otonashi said it herself: Death in the Rejecting Classroom is a sham.

“It’s not weighing on my mind at all. If it still bothers you that much, though, just say what you feel you need to say, and we’ll call it even.”

Otonashi is motionless, the frown still on her face. When she finally stirs, it’s just to lower her head.

“Heh-heh…”

Her shoulders are shaking? Huh? Is something wrong with her? I look her over uneasily.

“Heh-heh… Ha-ha… Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

She’s laughing! Andreally laughing, too!!

“H-hey! What’s so funny?! I don’t get it!!”

My protests seem to fall on deaf ears as Otonashi continues for a moment.

What the hell? …Here I was feeling proud of myself for finally saying something cool, only to find out it all just came across as a joke…

Having had her fill of laughter, Otonashi recovers her usual sternness and addresses me where I stand pouting.

“I have transferred 27,754 times.”

“…I’m well aware of that.”

“I thought I had a complete understanding of every single thing you could say or do, but I would never have predicted you would say what you did just now. Do you understand how amusing that is for someone as used to boredom as me?”

Otonashi sounds pleased, but it’s hard to tell if she’s being sincere. I tilt my head, confused.

“You are truly interesting, Hoshino. I’ve never met anyone like you. You seem so ordinary, with no passion or drive toward anything, but the truth is, there isn’t a human being out there as bizarrely obsessed with maintaining the mundanity of normal life as you. That’s why you’re able to be so clear-cut about the falseness of this world, even more than I am.”

More than Otonashi?

“That’s not true. I’m not clear-cut about anything. It still hurts to see the accident each time, even though I know soon enough it’ll all be like it never happened…”

“Of course it does. That has nothing to do with viewing our situation rationally. When something terrible happens to the characters in books or movies, you feel as bad for them as you would for a real person, right? It’s exactly the same thing.”

I’m not completely sure, but I think I see what she’s getting at.

“Hoshino.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

It’s so sudden that I don’t know what she’s talking about at first. Her pleasant expression has suddenly vanished.

“The truth is that I was ashamed of my inability to stop what happened. I’m sorry.”

“I-it’s fine…”

This sincere apology from someone so high above my level is almost unbearable. I stammer over my words like a suspect facing an interrogation. How pathetic.

“I assume that little bit of courtesy takes care of things between us? I will continue to read, understand, and control you just as before. That’s what you want, right?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Apologies—I suppose they are necessary sometimes, but I feel like that’s the first one I’ve made in several decades.”

I’m pretty sure that’s the truth, too.

“Now then, it’s almost time.”

“Time?”

“Time for the 27,754th transfer to end and the 27,755th to begin.”

“Oh, I see.”

I’m surprised at how naturally I accept this decidedly odd event as completely normal.

Surveying the area, I see that people have gathered around as they always do when a major accident occurs. I see several of them wearing the school uniform I know so well. Kokone’s there, too. Otonashi and I were ignoring all of this, continuing our conversation meant for just the two of us.

Even the normally emotionless Mogi was terrified of Otonashi standing there covered in blood and me talking to her like everything was fine. It’s definitely crazy, no two ways about it.

I extend my hand to Otonashi. Someone had rejected that hand once before, but Otonashi quickly reaches out and grips it firmly.

My mind is suddenly assaulted by an enormous pressure that threatens to crush it like a vise. The world folds in on itself like a coin purse snapping shut. It’s closed, but everything is white. White. White. For some reason I can tell that the unstable surface below us has become something sickly sweet, like candy, as if I can somehow taste it through my skin instead of my tongue. Though the sensation isn’t entirely unpleasant, it’s still disturbing, and I eventually come to realize that I’m experiencing the end of the 27,754th transfer.

There we are, within the soft, pure-white sweetness of despair.

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