Chapter 8: The Weight of Being Remembered

We continued running till we began changing the shape of buildings.

Pulling the girl along, Haruto took side streets that curled around like bad memories--alleys winding back and up, staircases leading to the roof, empty shops flickering with sick neon. With each turn the Correctors evanesced, and their bells were dulling.

Not silent.

Just… patient.

They were not after us like that, but they were simply awaiting the arrival of the world.

The girl faltered to the point of falling. Haruto held her by the elbow and brought her to her feet. She still had a scratchy breath, and the skin remained too cold. She blushed nimblely, like she was yet to become conscious of reality.

I am telling you we must stop.

Haruto looked around.

A slit door was there, a rustic, raggedy one, glowing of a kind. It had not been there two minutes ago.

Glitch? Maybe.

Or some kind of invitation.

He pushed it open.

They stepped inside.

It was a cafe--and that which had already attempted to be a cafe.

The walls were bloodstained, some little, others artificially large, with handprints. On one side of the room, misplaced duct tape blocks were arranged vertically, booths at a time. Tables were suspended but an inch or two off the floor, floating and then back down to the floor.

But it was quiet.

No bells. No mannequins. No watch running more than it ought to.

Haruto seated her and myself into the booth opposite her.

And her fingers shook as she clasped them around the broken mug of lukewarm water which he had discovered somewhere around the counter. It never steamed or smelled, and she drank it.

A long time passed without either saying anything.

Then she broke the silence.

"I think my name's Hina."

Haruto looked up.

"You think?"

She nodded slowly. It returned to us when we were running. Not all of it. Just… like a ripple. Th like hearing a person cry Cross a river after you.

"Hina," he repeated.

It felt right.

"I'm Haruto."

She smiled faintly. "I know."

He blinked. "You do?"

"I said your name. When the loop broke. I didn’t know I knew it. But I did."

Haruto stared at his hands. I believe that to be the functioning of anchoring. Not with knowledge. With… memory."

"No," she said softly. "With meaning."

He looked up.

"I didn’t remember your name. You know how you cast your eyes over people. Just as you always made yourself understand them, even when you were not talking. I recalled that you left the classroom five seconds behind the rest of the classroom.”

Haruto stared down at his hands. “I think that’s how anchoring works. Not with knowledge.”

“No,” she said softly. “With meaning.”

He stood up backward giving the words their place.

The windows were blackened outside, but the atmosphere was charged with electricity just back of the window. The city wasn’t gone. It had just stepped back.

I believe this place is protecting us, said he.

She nodded. "For now."

His eyes drifted to his watch.

99:40:59.

Still ticking.

Still steady.

Nothing here seemed much to me, nothing at all. As a dream turned into another repetition, oversleeping.

“You said the Correctors destroy individuals.”

"They do."

"What are they?"

She hesitated. "A correction to instability. It is a failed and already dead memory that tries to be constant in this world.”

Haruto frowned. "Then what are we?"

Hina stared down at her mug. Too many of these mistakes to remember.

Something had changed in her face, sadness, then sanity.

“You were not meant to see me,” she said. "Not just because of the loop. Due to the connections with whom I have to deal.”

Haruto stiffened. "Who?"

Her lips spoke, no growth was made.

She clutched her head.

There was a clear ring on the walls.

It wasn't loud. To shake the spoons on the counter.

"Stop," she whispered. “It is far too soon to think about her.”

"Her?"

The name was on the tip of her tongue.

She stared at Haruto - and her look said that she was aware of it.

She knows Ayaka.

The world would not allow her to say so.

The lights of the cafe fluttered, faded and fluttered again.

Brushing past her fingers, he moved around to the other side of the table.

"You don't have to say it. Not yet."

Her head nodded shakily.

He exhaled.

I had, in fact, never seen myself feeling not completely alone, at least since I had awakened in this strange new world.

But it was as though a falsely fragile silence. Like, too fragile.

We left the booth and began looking around. Behind the cafe was a very narrow kitchen that wound. All the clocks in the pantry had been frozen at 00:01, with one clock moving backwards.

I stared at it.

Then I flipped it face‑down.

Hina stood pulverized in front of a bulletin board, on which pics were nailed up--only the face of everyone had been scratched up, with one exception.

A girl.

Short hair. Dark eyes. A half‑smile.

It wasn’t Ayaka.

But she kinda looked like her.

I touched the photo--then it melted away and lost all its qualities.

We stayed quiet. Not all this was desirable to that which was remembered.

Something was off.

The lights were more fighting than before. Two flickers followed then it was fixed in one place. Too steady.

An inch of a cup on the counter moved. Then another. Now it went back to its beginnings.

I retired, shallowly breathing.

“Do you feel that?” I asked.

Hina nodded slowly. “It’s stabilizing… too fast.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means that it will forget us again. That’s how the system resets. Feels safe, then erases you.”

The cafe stopped humming. It was beat like the physiognomy of a giant.

I froze, when we returned to the front room. Booths had moved. Walls looked… cleaner.

The floating tables were now lifeless. It all appeared to be too good.

“Hina,” I whispered. “I think we’re getting prepared.”

“For what?”

“For forgetting.”

Muffledly, low and slow, there came a sound outside. Not the Correctors’ bells.

A doorbell.

The type one would hear when one passes a shop. Except nobody was inside.

Hina made towards the door, but I caught her arm. “No.”

The bell rang again. Then muffled behind the door: “Seno Haruto, you have five more echoes to fracture. Or none of you leave.”

My blood went cold. I stepped back. Fear and instinct gave my fingers a tingling.

It was a hollow voice, and not an angry voice. It didn’t sound alive.

Then it said: “You took one with you. Think she’ll survive the cost?”

I was between her and the opening. “She didn’t ask for this. I made the choice.”

The voice didn’t reply.

The lights dimmed again. I looked at Hina. She was pale again. On the back of her neck her pulse was palpable.

I dragged her away out of the door. The way sound struck the walls made the walls rip in a watery way.

The sanctuary was losing its form.

I had awakened something.

“Five more?” Hina whispered.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what that means. But we’re on a timer.”

The air vibrated. The stagnant exterior made another invasion.

Our time was ticking away. But now we had a worse thing than solitude: association.

I checked my watch.

99:39:30.

The hand of Hina jerked one time--the merest twitch like the crawling of fingers in a statical way.

She didn’t notice.

I did.

The countdown was moving faster.

He didn't know where the other echos were.

But he knew they couldn’t stop now. Neither could the world.