Chapter Two: The Hollow Chorus

The school grounds were a monument to silence, a sprawling garden of neglect where the only movement was the slow dance of cherry blossom petals drifting past the still, shimmering forms of the guardians. From a second-floor classroom window, a face appeared, disrupting the stillness. Mikoto’s smile was a defiant slash of normalcy, her hand waving with an enthusiasm that seemed to bend the very air around it.

“Hikari!”

Hikari looked up, the sound of her friend’s voice acting as a key, unlocking a tension in her shoulders she hadn't realized she was carrying. “Mikoto!”

Koji’s gaze lifted, tracking the sound. His eyes lingered on Mikoto’s vibrant expression for a fleeting, silent moment before surrendering to gravity, dropping back to the cracked pavement at his feet.

---

The classroom was a cavern of echoes and empty desks. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating dancing motes of dust above chairs that would likely remain empty. Hikari’s bag slid from her shoulder with a thud that was too loud in the quiet.

“Only both of you came?” Her voice was soft, the question laced with a sorrow she couldn’t quite hide.

Mikoto pushed herself off a desk where she’d been leaning. “Yes. Only me and the otaku nerd left. Everyone else said they're too scared to come.”

Ryota looked up from his phone, the glow of the screen reflecting in his glasses. A mock scowl twisted his features. “Hey, don't call me an otaku nerd.” He pushed his chair back, the screech of its legs a violation of the silence, and ambled over to join their small circle. His usual bravado was tempered, his voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone. “It's not just our classroom. It's every classroom. I don't know how long I'll keep coming, either. But then, hiding at home feels just as useless.”

Hikari hugged her textbook to her chest like a shield. “Yes... I know the feeling.”

“Too bad we have to self-study today. Again.” Mikoto sighed, gesturing to the blank chalkboard.

“What?” Hikari blinked. “Our teacher stopped coming, too?”

Ryota nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Only three teachers showed up, including the headmaster. The world's falling apart, and we're left with review sheets.”

A wave of defeat washed over Hikari, so palpable it seemed to dim the light around her. Her shoulders slumped as she took in the hollowed-out reality of their sanctuary.

---

The noise, when it came, was a shockwave. Raucous laughter and the chaotic chatter of a crowd erupted from the hallway, a sound so foreign and sudden it made all four of them flinch. It was the ghost of a memory, loud and alive.

“They're so loud,” Hikari murmured, more to herself than anyone.

Mikoto giggled, a sound like crystal bells. “I'm happy for them. To find a reason to be that happy, right now... it's incredible.”

Ryota tilted his head, his otaku-ear for voices kicking in. “That's definitely Akira and Sato.”

Koji, however, hadn't moved. His back remained to the room, his entire being focused on the window. Beyond the glass, his magical girls drifted in their silent, elegant patrols, their forms tracing arcs of light against the grim, unblinking pupil of the Eye.

Ryota followed his gaze and nudged him playfully in the arm. “What are you looking at, Koji? A beautiful magical girl? Have you fallen for one of them?”

A small, weary laugh, thin as smoke, escaped Koji's lips. It was a hollow sound.

Ryota came to stand beside him, his teasing tone evaporating into one of genuine awe. “They're incredible, don't you think?”

“Yes.” Koji’s voice was barely a whisper. “I think so, too.”

“I saw three of them patrolling my neighborhood yesterday. They never stop. Day and night, non-stop. I wonder what they're looking for?”

Koji was silent, the weight of the unspoken truth a physical pressure on his tongue. He could feel the words, I made them, burning in his throat. “Maybe they're just trying to protect us.”

“From what? From that?” Ryota pointed a hesitant finger toward the monstrous iris in the sky. “I saw the news last night. They sent jets up. They flew right through it like it was a cloud.” He shook his head, a gesture of profound helplessness. “I hope the government finds an answer soon.”

Koji had no reply to offer. The silence was broken by Mikoto's cheerful call from the doorway. “Koji! Ryota! Let's go to the canteen before the bread runs out!”

---

The school canteen was a tomb of abundance. Their footsteps echoed on the polished floor, the only sound in a space designed for a cacophony. The counters stretched out, laden with untouched trays of curry bread, melon pan, and steamed buns, a sad, colorful feast for a ghost town.

“Whoa...” Ryota breathed, his eyes wide behind his glasses. “There's so much food.”

Mikoto’s hands flew to her cheeks, her eyes sparkling with a delight that was instantly heartbreaking. “I really want to eat it all!”

A lone canteen worker, methodically wiping a spotless counter, offered them a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “The head chef said you can take as much as you like. He thought... well, he thought a lot more students would come today.”

The statement landed heavily, dousing their brief flicker of excitement. The abundance was not a gift; it was a measure of their absence.

Hikari, ever the anchor, forced a bright, determined tone. “Oh, don't worry! I'm sure they'll be back tomorrow. They all just felt a little... under the weather today.”

No one believed the lie, but they clung to its fragile courtesy, loading their trays in a silence that was louder than any lunchtime roar.

---

The final bell was a redundant sound in the pervasive quiet. They gathered their bags at the school gate, a tiny archipelago in a vast, empty sea.

“What are your plans for today?” Hikari asked, adjusting the strap on her shoulder.

“I think I'll just go straight home,” Mikoto said, her earlier vibrancy subdued.

Ryota scratched his head, looking toward the city. “Hmm... Maybe I'll swing by the mall. I heard a new action figure shipment came in. Can't let the end of the world interrupt my collection.”

Hikari then turned to the quietest of them. “What about you, Koji?”

He zipped his jacket up to his chin, a small, defensive gesture. His eyes were focused on some distant, internal point. “I want to go to the hospital. To see my mother.”

Hikari’s expression softened into immediate, profound concern. “Ah, okay. Do you want me to go with you?”

He shook his head gently, a firm but tired refusal. “It's okay.”

“Alright then,” Mikoto said, offering a small wave. “See you all tomorrow... if the world's still here.”

With waves and quiet goodbyes, the group dispersed, their figures growing smaller and more solitary against the immense backdrop. Koji was left alone, the path to the hospital stretching before him like a pilgrimage. Above him, his legion of silent guardians stood watch, their beautiful, impassive faces turned toward the heavens, while he, their creator, walked on, burdened by a solitude no amount of magic could dispel.