Chapter 39: The First Bell

Haruto remained in the silence following the bell's breath, the golden light still churning like particles in zero gravity. Hina wasn't there. But not removed — something more. Kept safe. Experienced. Recalled differently.

The cracked vault trembled beneath his feet.

Then the floor gave way.

Not with force, but with consent — as if the world understood what needed to come next.

He fell again.

This time, slower. Drifting like a page caught in windless air. The light followed him, or maybe it led him.

Below was a chamber unlike any place he’d been. Not memory. Not loop. Not construct.

This place was older.

A cathedral carved out of something primal. Its walls were not stone but layered echoes — shifting images of every bell ever rung. The ceiling was endless, woven from silence. The air shimmered with gravity so deep it hurt to breathe.

In the center, there was a single bell.

Massive. Unbroken. Black as void and etched with writing older than time. It was suspended high above the floor, hovering in the dark like a moon ready to fall.

This was the first Bell.

The one that birthed the system.

The one that finished every cycle.

The one he was never meant to meet.

Haruto took a step forward — and the entire room responded. The walls lit up with millions of tiny memories. Forgotten birthdays. First statements. Left unsaid apologies.

Every memory anyone had ever let go.

In front of him, the bell was waiting.

Unmoving. Watching.

Judging.

The silence was broken with presence, not with sound.

A person appeared among the sounds, wearing a blue and gray cloak. The Cartographer.

Haruto hadn’t seen him since the day the streets folded.

"You must not be here," the Cartographer replied, their voice inflected with respect.

"I didn't come here to break it," Haruto responded.

"Why then has it opened to you?"

Haruto stared upwards at the floating bell—gigantic, alien. "Because I remembered. Because I released."

The Cartographer approached closer. Shadows deepened around him as walls pulsed with timelines. "You must then comprehend what this means. The system will listen. It shall reveal to you a truth, and ask one in return."

Haruto sighed, looking at the bell. "What kind of truth?"

"One that you cannot share. One that you cannot change back. One that decides which version of reality remains."

Above them, the ceiling shone — visions of varying timelines converging and diverging. In one, Ayaka's hand was clasped with Haruto's. In another, Hina stood on a bridge of static, as he dissolved from sight.

"It's coming undone," the Cartographer said softly. "It has just enough bits to recreate itself. But it doesn't know which story to keep."

He looked down. "So it's asking me to choose?"

"It's asking if you're important enough to decide," answered the Cartographer, eyes narrowing. "No,"

Haruto flinched — because he wasn’t sure.

“What happens if I choose wrong?” he asked.

"There is no wrong. Only cost."

Darkened the chamber.

And what if I do not select?

The Cartographer spoke softly. "Then the world starts afresh. Everyone forgets. Even you."

As the Cartographer faded, the air bent.

A single note rang out — soft, high, brittle.

Ayaka stood across the chamber. No longer a shimmer. No longer a ghost.

She was fully formed.

Dressed in her worn school uniform. Hair a bit knotted. Eyes shining and fatigued simultaneously.

"Hi," she said matter-of-f.

Haruto's breathing ceased.

You're. real

"I do," she said. "For the moment."

She walked towards him, barefoot on memory.

"You never stopped looking for me," she stated. "Even when all that ever told you to do was forget."

He nodded. "You were why I stayed."

And then?" she asked.

He looked down. "Now I'm thinking maybe that wasn't fair. To the others. To Hina."

Ayaka smiled serenely. "You do remember the time I left, don't you?"

He nodded again, slower.

"I asked you to meet me after school. I want to tell you something."

He took out the notebook from his pocket.

"I waited. You never arrived."

"I tried," she replied. "But the system wouldn't allow me to. It had to eliminate somebody so that you'd go running around."

Tears formed in his eyes.

"Why have you come now?"

She moved closer again.

"To say goodbye. The system let you choose to remember me completely. But it costs something."

"What price?"

"The others go away. Their echoes, their timelines. You get me… and nobody but me."

The room flashed momentarily. Hina's scarf appeared in the air momentarily, then wasn't there anymore. There was a photo of Yamazaki on a school outing. I recalled the rain's touch on the first time Haruto came here.

All slipping away.

He dropped to his knees.

I couldn't do that," he replied. "I couldn't get rid of them.

Ayaka knelt beside him.

You loved me first.

"I did."

And a part of you still does.

He closed his eyes. "It's just not the same. It's just not the same kind of love."

The trembling of Ayaka's hand as she stroked his cheek. "Then don't forget me. But please release me."

He opened his eyes. “Will you disappear?”

"No," she replied. "You'll cease from pursuing. And I'll cease from haunting."

He stood slowly.

The bell hummed softly, like it was a living thing passing judgment.

The cord that hung from it reached down, but not easily — it was suspended by sheer memory weight, swinging gently like it was daring him to act.

Haruto looked up the rope, then out.

It wasn't simple. He had to climb — a series of rough-hewn recollections. Roof tiles from his school building. Pages out of Ayaka's notebook. A piece of Hina's laugh.

Every step was a sacrifice.

As he walked onto the last ledge, he faintly heard the Cartographer's voice in his mind: "You can only choose what the world remembers."

He paused.

Closed his eyes then.

"I prefer the version of the world that remembers all of us-even if it forgets me."

He pulled the cord.

The Original Bell sounded.

And the world fractured — not with destruction.

But with possibility.

In the rippling aftershock, a figure emerged beside him. Fragile. Glowing faintly.

A red scarf. A gentle voice.

"Whatever, I'll never forget either of us," Hina whispered.

Haruto turned. And smiled. He never knew what was coming next. But there she was, still. And that was enough.