Mariah and the rest of their friends were waiting at their usual table, a small, metal bench, shaped like a circle. It was one of four benches on a small patio outside the cafeteria. Most of their classmates seemed to have gravitated toward the roof. Kaho couldn't see Makoto, Sayuri and Hikaru, or Eiji and Yuto, Ryota's friends from the basketball team, but they were probably pestering Taiga to let them into the gym to practise while he ate lunch.
It was a surprise to see Ryota at the table, a neon pink basketball in tow. Then again, he hadn't seen Mamoru all break, nor had he caught up with him on the way to school. He waved to her as she came over, vending machine juice box and bento in tow.
Her friends had started their lunches already. Mamoru had speared a tempura prawn with a chopstick and was waving it around like he was conducting an orchestra. Beside him, Kikyo was eating some skinny carrot sticks from her bento, already almost empty.
"You feeling any better, babe?" Mariah asked.
Kaho shrugged and opened her lunch.
Unfortunately for Himiko, who was probably staring dismayed at her bento over at her elementary school, her grandiose banquet of food hadn't been delivered. No fillet mignon, no dauphinoise potatoes, no 'Twinkies' and certainly no 'Ramune'. Instead, like Kaho predicted, there were three miniature hotdogs, cut to look like little squids, fried pineapple rings, edamame beans and two rice balls wrapped in seaweed. Kaho's stomach dropped. She wasn't hungry. Especially for that. She tentatively picked up a rice ball, the smaller of the two and nibbled on the fluffy white rice, until she met the yellow pepper and tuna centre. That would do. It wasn't spicy, or herby, it was just a mild rice ball. Perfect for an uneasy stomach.
Kaho pushed the bento into the centre of the table.
"Anyone want anything?"
Mamoru reached over to Kaho's lunch with his chopsticks and retrieved an edamame bean and popped it in his mouth. Ryota took a fried pineapple ring. Kikyo lowered her head and looked longingly at the second rice ball.
Kaho glanced from her lunch to Kikiyo. Had she lost weight over the break? Her cheeks looked sallow and her eyes had purple bags under them. She hadn't styled her hair, instead it was thrown in a ponytail that was falling down her head.
Kaho gestured to Kikiyo to help herself. Permission. Kikiyo whispered a thank you and took the rice ball. It had been bigger than Kaho's and was probably filled with whatever discounted meat her mum had found in the supermarket, seasoned generously. Kikyo bit into the rice ball, a trickle of sticky soy sauce went down her chin. Kikiyo licked her lips and continued to eat, the smell of beef with sesame oil and crushed chillis wafted to Kaho's nose. She swallowed hard and pierced her juice box, slurping the juice Naseru had bought for her.
Mamoru returned to his own lunch, eating another tempura prawn. Kaho's eyes flickered to Mamoru's triple-decker bento box, like a three course meal, except one layer had already been decanted. Had she missed it?
As Kikiyo shifted her bag, her hand bumped against a brown envelope. She frowned, opened it, and took out a bundle of cash.
"What the honey brunch?!" Ryota raised an eyebrow.
"Only one person has that antic here."
Mamoru tilted his head, hand to heart, voice soft with mock awe. "Lo and behold… What fortune from the heavens has chosen our dear Kikiyo today?"
Kikiyo didn't look at him. "Cut it out."
Mamoru shut up immediately.
"You already tried this this morning. I'm not taking pity. Get a clue."
She calmly placed the money back into the envelope and slid it across the table—away from her—without another word. Then, she resumed eating.
"Yea, Kikiyo seems a bit extra moody today." Ryota thought and felt Mariah and Kaho staring at Ryota. He could almost sense what they didn't want him to ask Kikiyo.
All the while she gingerly picked up a slice of grilled red pepper from her bento box and stuffed it in her mouth. Kaho's brows furrowed – when did Kikiyo get that?
Her eyes flickered to Mamoru, who pushed up his glasses and ate the last of his prawns, moving onto the egg noodles on the next layer of his box. The last layer of his box.
Kikiyo looked down and dabbed her chin with a napkin. Kaho's eyes widened. Mamoru kicked her under the table. A threat. Don't mention it, or else. She nodded and sipped on her juice box. Mariah had been talking about Niagra Falls, telling Ryota about the girl who laid on the floor and got drenched.
"Did you make a wish?" Mamoru asked, "You're supposed to!"
Mariah sighed audibly and mimed zipping her lips.
"What did you get up to during the break, Kikiyo?"
She winced, finishing her mouthful, "I worked during the break."
"For the whole break?" Ryota said, his eyes wide, "Damn, are you saving for something special?"
Kikyo nodded wordlessly, and returned to her topped-up lunch.
The midday light filtered through the trees, casting shifting shadows across the stone bench where the group had gathered. Lunch boxes half-opened, conversation idling—until Mariah leaned forward, eyes fixed on Mamoru.
Mariah tapped her fingers on the table. "So, question—did anyone else get a parcel this morning?"
"Filled with… creepy black letters."
"I'm hearing about all these letters and I got one too. I saw some people freaking out in some of the classrooms on my way to our table."
Mariah said, closing the lid of her bento box, "Did any of you get a delivery this morning?"
Ryota nodded. Kaho too. Mamoru pressed his lips into a fine line.
There was a short silence.
Ryota raised his hand sheepishly. Mamoru gave a slow, noncommittal nod.
Kikiyo blinked. "Parcel?"
Mariah cocked her head. "Black, bunch of envelopes inside?"
Kikiyo shook her head. "Nope. Nothing like that."
A flicker of something crossed Mamoru's face—gone in an instant. He didn't say anything, but Kaho caught the way he glanced briefly at Kikiyo, then turned back to his food.
"Huh, you haven't gotten any?" Mariah said, "Guess not everyone got one."
"Looks like it," Kaho murmured, eyes drifting between Mamoru and Kikiyo.
"Yet. At least not yet. Correction."
Kikiyo frowned. "Wait... what are those letters about exactly?"
Mariah pulled hers out from her blazer pocket and slid it toward Kikiyo.
Kikiyo opened the envelope, unfolding the letter inside. Her eyes narrowed as she read. "It says... this is from another version of ... you? From a different dimension? A pocket of time?"
Mamoru leaned in slightly. "It's an introductory letter. The first one. From what I've gathered, a lot of teenagers have been receiving similar ones. The structure is always the same."
Kikiyo glanced up. "What kind of structure?"
"They all open with a personal hook," Mamoru said. "They describe something you've experienced—something specific, something recent. Tangible. Details that no one else would know. That's how they get you to take it seriously."
"Things that personally you experienced, but you have to be careful with the intent behind these things. Details that no one else would know. "
"I mean … who has reasons to hide what?"
"Why does this sound like a set up?" Mariah brought her brows pressed together.
"Maybe because it might very well be."
"I mean, we have our phones with us most of the time, maybe it's a few unsaverly people misusing parts of the government to get our details and send these letters off? To spook us?"
Kaho nodded. "Mine mentioned my sister. And things she said this morning. Stuff no one else heard. It talked about things that happened in real time and was already in the letter."
Mariah added, "Mine knew the exact time I left the house. That I tripped on the curb."
"It had details about when I was a child. I didn't have phones around me when I was 7." Ryota chimed in.
Kikiyo turned the letter back over, looking again at the date. "But it says today. So it knew what was going to happen about your past and present?"
"I mean… who has the scale and currency to launch something like this… if it's true it's sent to our generation."
"By somebody or something out there."
"Is this the part where you tell us the truth is stranger than fiction Mamoochi?"
"More like he's going to tell us art imitates the tangible life with a flurry of personal lived experiences," Ryota smirked reading a part of the introductory letter they all had the same.
"I think you're the last one that should be poking fun at this Ryota. You aren't the sharpest tool in the shed last I checked. Figuring out how, isn't what should be our immediate priority. These letters are in our hands. I already see where this is going. You guys are just poking at me to get me to make sense of it for you."
Mariah, Kaho and Ryota nodded at Mamoru.
"Some people are connected to others in key fields, too scared to come forward because of a hostile over polluted environment, hence they put it in books, media, label it fiction while profiting in underhanded excusable shady ways at the expense of the dulled populations and dulled attention spans."
"With some of the things my letter told me, based on what I read I can tell it was some other older me."
"If I went strictly based off the allegations the older me told me in the letter I read today, eventually the percentages of the populations had to reach an alignment, a bare minimum alignment upon ending the back and forth on key topics, that aligned a type of civilization that re-discovered the molecular technological ability to do this?"
"The sooner the better. The sooner you catch on, the better."
"That's the point," Mamoru said. "Each letter is dated. And you can only open the one for that specific day. No skipping forward. No reading ahead."
"Everyone I heard talk about the letters today mentioned an introductory letter from the sender that claims to be an already existing Advanced Civilization but that can't be true."
"Why would a supposed Advanced Civilization make its presence known now of all times? To just the teenagers of a civilization?"
"It doesn't make sense Mamoru. Make it make sense."
"With everything that's going on… This has to be another psychopath, that's for sure. Some psychop out of all the infighting that's going on at the key levels, the amount of people trying to find ways to come forward. This sounds like a fabricated lie. What do they win out of this?"
"What do they stand to win out of this?"
"It talked about sufficient personal lived experiences, an artificially misshaped and misdirected particular civilization?"
"What could that mean?"
"That you could only unlock comprehension through sufficient personal lived experiences, that it would significantly only matter to you if you personally go through it, if you personally experience it, that only then would you truly comprehend and internally and externally want to do something about it."
"Somebody destroys your life, you what? Turn around and destroy someone else's? You don't transmute?"
"Transmute in what ways?"
"According to the introductory letter separate from the personal letter, the sender alleges it's an already existing advanced civilization that wants to give us a chance to nudge the physical reality of the particular civilization before something that's coming up."
"Someone is going to use this for some weird kind of power trip, right?" Mariah said, scowling, "Instead of what they're actually here for."
Ryota shrugged, rummaging in his bag and producing a can of 'Pokari Sweat', contraband. He cracked the can open and tilted his neck back, draining the energy drink like his throat was a funnel. He covered his mouth and coughed, wiping his mouth on his hand, "It has to be a prank, I mean who has the power to do this? It has teens are getting it across the continents, you think it's a specific network of people? Look, I'll level with you. It said to only talk about the letters to people with these letters, half the people in our class were reading from black envelopes during Homeroom."
"We sit at the front," Kikiyo said, "So I wouldn't know how many of the people in our class were reading letters."
"I got one," Ryota said. "Mine had today's date. Weird message inside, kinda vague."
"Let me see. Yours, what did yours say?" Kaho held her hand out to Ryota who jumped back slightly. "Ah! No, I can't share that at the moment it has things… but the one letter I can show you talked about an important date."
"Same," Mariah added. "One of mine mentioned something about January 20th, 2028. Some kind of deadline."
Mamoru adjusted his glasses. "That date came up in mine too."
"What did it say?" Kaho asked.
He smiled faintly. "Nothing too crazy. Just… a nuclear disaster if those that embody the worst aspects of humanity … don't get what they want."
That seemed to be all he was willing to offer.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that answer."
"We're just teenagers! There's nothing we can do, what the hell?!" Ryota punched the side of his fist onto the table.
"It said everyone has to do their part by that date if they want to circumvent a specific type of physical reality."
"Physical reality… the phrasings."
"Did anyone else get like … explicit instructions about what they had to stop?" Ryota asked.
Kaho shrugged. Had they been explicit instructions? They were definitely instructions, a goal in mind, but actually achieving anything remotely like that was completely alien to her.
"Mine mentioned the new transfer student," Kaho admitted.
"Matsuoka?" Mariah asked.
"Matsuoka?" Mamoru echoed, "Like Matsuoka Kathen the basketball player?"
Kaho shifted. "Mine mentioned Naseru Matsuoka. The transfer student."
Ryota's head perked up.
"That's where I've heard that name before!" Ryota said, snapping his fingers, "Mamoru, you genius! He must be related to Matsuoka Kathen, the basketball player! He said he played!"
Mamoru laughed quietly, "It's a common enough surname, Ryota."
Ryota wasn't listening anymore. He got to his feet and bounced his neon pink basketball, "Damn he's going to be such a good player, it's in his blood, Kaho! His blood! Taiga will shit his pants when I tell him."
"You do that," Kaho said, rolling her eyes.
"I'll look him up," Mamoru said, nudging Kaho's foot with his own. He was buying her silence about the lunch he'd snuck Kikiyo. Kaho nodded, accepting the deal.
Were they dating? Was that them being a couple? Kaho and Tatsuya hadn't gone to the same school, so maybe that was normal for couples, sharing bentos and stuff. She shrugged to herself and sipped the dregs of her juice box.
"We're going to have to decide on what we're going to do about these... creepy letters."
Mariah leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table locking eyes with Mamoru, "you're the genius of the group. Mamoochi, this whole letter thing? I say you deal with it and then tell us what to do. You're always the fastest to figure out where to look—like, freakishly well. So just... explain it to us."
Mamoru gave a small, unreadable shrug.
Kaho placed a hand on Mariah's shoulder. "Mariah…"
"There's a lot happening at once," she continued, more thoughtfully now. "But you've always had the logistics. The way you put things... it clicks. Even when stuff's confusing or too big to really grasp at first, you find a way to break it down."
"It's like I said."
Mariah leaned, peering at Mamoru over the rim of her juice box speaking a bit more aggressively in her soft voice. "You're always the fastest to figure out where to look—like, freakishly fast. So just... explain it to us."
"Mamooooo-" Ryota raised a finger about to prepare a chant but Mariah stuffed a pear into Ryota's mouth.
Mamoru, who had just closed his bento box, raised a brow. He didn't answer immediately.
"Doesn't he always figure out the logistics? You've got the logistics," Mariah said, shrugging. "And you always find a way to make sense of things. Even when it's a mess. Stuff that doesn't seem connected starts making sense when you start talking."
Kaho watched Mariah carefully. Ryota leaned forward, elbows on his knees. Mamoru tilted his head slightly.
Mariah continued, "Especially about things that initially seem small and insignificant. Like remember that time back in second year of middle school? It was me, Kaho, Kikiyo, Ryota—we all thought someone was stealing notebooks from the hallway cubbies."
"Oh, that," Kaho muttered, half-laughing.
Mariah nodded. "Right? None of us could figure it out. We thought it was some weirdo from another class. But Mamoru noticed the missing books only ever came from the same row and always disappeared the day after cleaning duty."
Ryota snorted. "And it turned out the janitor thought they were trash. The cubbies looked like recycling bins from the back hallway angle. He was throwing them out."
Mamoru looked faintly amused. Mariah pointed at him. "You figured that out just from watching his cleaning routine. We were too busy accusing people."
Ryota leaned back, folding his arms. "And don't forget the trip in third year. When the room charts got switched."
Kaho blinked. "Oh, the trip to Lake Fukuda?"
"Yeah," Ryota said, nodding. "Someone kept changing the room numbers before the teachers did roll call. It happened three nights in a row. Everyone blamed the girls."
"Obviously," Mariah muttered.
Ryota grinned. "Mamoru figured out it was one of the upperclassmen trying to bunk with his friends. Matched the handwriting. You even brought your own magnifier to read the strokes."
"Only Mamoru would travel with a mini handwriting kit," Kaho added.
Mariah sat back and crossed her arms. "And you're hopelessly in love with Kikiyo."
Mamoru froze.
Kaho covered her mouth. Ryota barked out a laugh.
Mariah grinned. "It's not a secret, don't be melodramatic. You followed her to Hanagawa High when you could've gone anywhere."
Mamoru looked away. "That's not why—"
"Oh please," Mariah said, shaking her head. "We're all basically your best friends. You lonely puppy dog."
Kikiyo didn't say anything. She stared down at her mostly empty lunchbox, expression unreadable.
"You've been following her since Year One," Mariah said. "And even if you deny it now, you used to admit it. Back when we were still twelve."
"Don't embarrass him," Kaho said, half-laughing, half-warning.
"I'm not," Mariah replied smoothly standing and waving her hips. "It's cute."
"Why are you all bringing this up, are you really trying to get me worked up? Mariah…" Mamoru smiled forcing a twitching smirk.
Ryota waved a hand. "Look, forget the romance stuff. What matters is that Mamoru always notices what we don't. There's levels to that. That's a skill. You see the patterns before anyone else does."
"I mean… when it comes to humanity, things are always changing, you can especially decide how much change can permeate in a civilization. There's levels to change. There's been a big tug of war that I'm sure not all of you guys have immediately noticed. You guys clearly aren't going to get everything the letters are saying if its phrasings seem complex. I guess… sooner or later I'm going to have to."
Mariah nodded, satisfied. "See what I mean?"
Mamoru looked off to the side, clearly remembering.
"You do this thing," Mariah said. "You find the structure in chaos. And not because you're guessing—it's because you've got polished tools. You trained. You looked where most people don't. That's what makes you sharp."
"Stop trying to stroke my ego. I don't have one."
She paused moving her hands behind her back. Then her tone shifted slightly.
"Also, you're stalking Kikiyo on overtime lately, I think you owe her."
Kaho's eyes widened. Ryota snorted into his juice.
Mamoru turned stiff. "That's not—"
Mariah waved a hand. "Relax. We've known since Year One. Everyone knows. You followed her to Hanagawa when you could've gone literally anywhere else."
Kikiyo didn't say anything.
"But it's fine," Mariah added with a shrug. "Sweet puppy dog. We're all kind of best friends at this point. Even if your motivation was... kind of obvious."
Mamoru said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
Ryota leaned back, arms behind his head. "He's still the guy with the answers, love-struck or not."
Mariah held her hand out over the table. "All in favor of Mamoru officially activating his weird genius mode for this mess?"
Mariah reached into the center of the table and laid her hand flat. "All in favor of letting Mamoru do his thing? Officially?"
Kaho placed her hand on top of Mariah's without hesitation.
Ryota followed, thumping his down dramatically. "I second the motion."
Mariah smiled. "You're our good oligarch. Remember?"
Kaho looked over. "Oh god, you used to say that all the time."
"You did," Mariah said. "Back in Year Two. You'd finish group projects alone and say, 'Trust me, I'm a positive oligarch.' You had a whole speech about benevolent hierarchy."
Mamoru sighed into his hand. "I was joking."
"Too late," Ryota said. "The role stuck."
Kaho placed her hand quietly on top of Mariah's. Ryota added his with a nod. After a pause, Mamoru dropped his hand last.
Mamoru looked like he wanted to protest, but didn't. He placed his hand lightly on the stack.
Mariah smirked. "There we go. Positive oligarch in action."
Mamoru groaned. "We're still using that?"
"You made it up in middle school. You used to end every group assignment by saying, 'Trust in your good oligarch.' You loved that line."
"You forced that label on me."
"And you embraced it."
Kaho smiled. "It fit."
Mariah turned to Kikiyo and nudged her with her elbow and took Kikiyo's hands. "Alright, your turn. Let's butter mamu to do some of the work for us! You're his number one observation subject. You must have a good one."
Kikiyo blinked slowly. "A good…?"
"A... good what?"
"Example," Mariah said forming a wide grin, "of Mamoru noticing something before anyone else. Give him some credit."
"Since you're his favorite subject."
"Mariah… please, it's the first day back."
Mamoru looked away, feigning indifference, but his eyes shifted slightly in Kikiyo's direction.
Mamoru gave a sidelong glance, but said nothing.
Kikiyo sat quietly for a second, then nodded. "There was the mess in Year Three. When someone kept moving the school's Wi-Fi router. Remember that?"
Ryota frowned. "The weird signal drops during tests?"
"Yeah," Kikiyo said. "Everyone thought it was just a glitch in the building. Admin said it was structural interference. But Mamoru didn't buy it. He noticed it was only happening when a certain teacher was on duty."
Mariah raised her brow.
"He watched. Waited. Found that someone was physically shifting the router placement before the third period exam blocks. Slight rotations. Plugged into slightly different sockets on different days."
Kaho looked stunned. "How did he even spot that?"
"He noticed the floor scuff marks were being cleaned too precisely around the wiring box," Kikiyo said. "So he started logging where the signal broke down. Mapped the pattern. Took photos. Put it together."
Ryota blinked. "Wait... that was you, Mamoru?"
Mamoru gave a half-shrug. "Wasn't hard. Just took observation."
Kikiyo added, "When he presented it, it made admin stop blaming the facilities and investigate internally. Turned out one of the part-time IT aides was altering the placement to delay grading times. It wasn't malicious—just inefficient. But because Mamoru exposed it, the school rewired the whole third floor."
Mariah gave a low whistle. "You didn't even brag about that. Always fixing and modifying places you sly dog."
"I wasn't doing it to brag," Mamoru said, flat. "I wanted the problem fixed."
"And it did fix things," Kikiyo said quietly. "After that, students started reporting oddities more often. They trusted what they noticed. And they got sharper about it."
Ryota nodded. "It's like you gave them permission to think more."
"That's what you do, Mamoru," Mariah said, voice low now. "You nudge people toward competence. Not by telling them what to believe—but by showing them what they missed."
Mariah grinned. "Classic."
Kaho smiled faintly. "He does that for you a lot."
Kikiyo looked down at her lap. "I guess he just notices."
Mariah sipped the last of her juice. "That's what we're saying. He notices. Stuff the rest of us don't even realize we're missing. Until it's time to be bailed out when things go left."
"That sounds more like a Ryota type of problem with homework."
Ryota flopped pointing at Mariah. "Hey! You're right, I'm not going to deny it."
"Correction. Uh it's more like, when things go unchecked for too long and go left."
"We should cut him some slack and do things early to prevent the problems from worsening and spiraling."
Mamoru said nothing. But he didn't leave the table either.
"Just please don't drown us with lengthy complex audio recordings later."
Mamoru didn't respond for a long second. Then he stood, brushing crumbs from his uniform pants.
"I've got a flight at 7 p.m.," he said. "But before I leave, I'll prep something. I'll record a voice note and drop it in the group chat later tonight."
"You're going to explain everything?" Kaho asked.
"No," Mamoru said. "Not everything. Just enough to start thinking. It's not always about giving full answers—sometimes it's about throwing the right pieces out there. The kind that make people want to figure the rest out."
Mariah tilted her head. "So… breadcrumbs?"
"I have to make an exchange service, where I can gather what's mainly in the other teenagers letters, I think I'll make a letter agency where the other teens can come to me and my network for help about their letters."
"Already thought that up? You yet again revitalize my faith in humanity, with our genius I think the confusing letters get less scary."
"Atta' genius. Then you can tell us what the patterns show is the main goals of the letters."
"Exactly," Mamoru said. "Things people can notice in their own environments. Stuff that's already there. The more personal lived experience they attach to it, the more clarity is gained. That's how you gather significant comprehension. Not just through lectures—through recognition."
He checked his watch. "I'll compile whatever I find before boarding. Toss in different examples, you'll start putting things together."
Ryota scratched his cheek. "Kinda like a mental toolkit."
Mamoru nodded. "Right. I'll articulate it in a way you can digest. I'm not expecting you to solve it overnight. But once you start looking in the right places, you'll start seeing."
Mamoru gave a short nod, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
He turned, heading down the corridor path. They watched him go in silence.
"Still our oligarch," Mariah muttered.
"Still sharp," Kikiyo added.
"Still hopeless," Ryota grinned.
Mamoru slipped away from the stone benches without a word, his footsteps light against the pavement as he passed the tree-lined edge of the courtyard. He didn't look back. He didn't have to.
Once out of sight, he exhaled—then stepped toward a nearby wall just behind the courtyard storage shed. Out of view, out of earshot. He leaned back against the concrete, pulled his hood slightly over his head, and scrubbed one hand through his hair.
His face flushed.
"...She remembered," he muttered, voice low, almost disbelieving.
His fingers clenched into his scalp, messing up the back of his hair even more as he half-laughed, half-groaned into the air.
"Kikiyo... remembered something from that long ago?"
He dragged his hand down his face.
"That moment with the router," he muttered. "It wasn't even that impressive…"
"That's one of the smallest things ever… but did it really mean something to her? Probably not. Mariah was really pushing things today."
He closed his eyes, head thunking softly back against the wall. For a brief second, his lips twitched into something caught between embarrassment and quiet happiness.
"To remember something so small… that much detail…"
His hand dropped to his side.
But then, as fast as it came, the flush faded.
Mamoru's eyes opened, focused now, sharpened. His jaw tightened slightly.
"…Still," he said quietly.
He glanced down at his phone, thumb hovering just above the voice recorder app—but not pressing it yet.
"Some of what's going on ... most people wouldn't be able to handle it as they are at the moment in this particular civilization."
The words hung there, flat and real.
"Particular civilization." Mamoru thought about the letter. The specific line in the introductory letter most of the teenagers of the continent were already talking about.
He leaned forward, hands stuffed in his pockets now, staring down at the concrete as if it could give him answers.
Then softly, like something pulling from the edge of his thoughts, he said her name aloud.
"…Kikiyo."
"There's already enough there. But they've got to learn where to look."
"A new type… of … mobilization."
Kaho passed through the last lessons of the day in a haze. She couldn't help but stare at Naseru, she found her eyes flickering to the back of his head throughout lessons, instead of looking at the chalkboard, or listening to her teachers. Kaho sighed to herself. Naseru had been so unkind to her that morning, but then he gave her a juice box. Was this the duality of man? Or was one of them a front?
She didn't have an answer. Even after she made it home, beating Taiga, and her mom with Himiko, and chopped vegetables for dinner. Even after making herself a mug of tea. Usually she would be out after the first day back at school, making up on lost time with her friends Ryota, Kikiyo, Mariah and Mamoru, who was never in Japan during school breaks. They always went out on his money on the first day back. She knew her mom wasn't expecting her. They'd had the same routine since her second year of middle school. But with so many teenagers having letters to sift through, Kaho was sure arcades, karaoke bars, bowling alleys, boba shops and leisure centres would be desolate that evening. Maybe tomorrow they could play catch up. But having only taken one letter to school, and not having read the whole thing from back to front at once, she was sure she'd missed information. Hell, Kaho wouldn't have put it past her to accidentally skip pages. Did Future Kaho, the other Kaho from a varied pocket of time remember it was the first day back at school today? She was tired, stressed, even.
Kaho produced the letter again, and made a real, honest attempt to read the whole thing, and really let the information sink in:
Dear Kaho,
If you're reading this, then you're probably wondering what's going on, where those letters came from, and what is going on. My name is Kaho too, and I'm you, but from the future, I'm from a different Dimension Of Light within the same planet. And you don't need to believe me right now, but you will. It's important that you do.
I know this sounds crazy… but I heard from someone about the possibility of these letters getting to you, soon you'll find out how this is possible, but for now, I need your help. There's this really, really special person for me that was detrimental to me and our world. His name is Naseru Matsuoka. In my timeline, I failed…
To show you that I am you I'm going to tell you things only you and me would know: Himiko sang all morning about food and drove your mum crazy, she said she wanted fillet mignon and dauphinoise potatoes, a bottle of 'Ramune' and 'Twinkies'. Your mom will buy her those in a few weeks and she'll hate them because they taste like polystyrene, but a kid can dream, can't she?
Not good enough? After all Himiko always led with her stomach. Don't worry - you and Stupid Tamaki have been enemies since he pushed you off the swings when you were five. You threw wood chips and sand in his face. He doesn't remember why he hates you, but knows it as a truth that is as real as the air he breathes. But you remember. This morning Stupid Tamaki said that Rana would be hit by a car if you don't buy a tracker for him, and you can't shake the feeling that that stupid kid might actually be right about something. You don't have to listen to him, but listen to me when I say investing in cat trackers saves you a lot of time in the lead-up to your entrance exams next year.
You also nearly got hit by a rude guy riding a vehicle this morning, because Tama tried to play with Rana on the side of the road. Your cats are many things, but intelligent? Maybe not... You thought the rude guy was cute, attractive, even if he wasn't kind to you – and you feel guilty because you love Tatsuya.
Right now, in your timeline, Naseru and the direction of your generation's civilization is in danger, and you're the only one who can save him. All the letters I've sent will give you detailed instructions about what you should correct personally so that it can interconnect with the Protocol being sent to help your generation save yourselves morally, and interpersonally, and, better yet, save the planet from Nuclear disaster… letters with details on what to do. Please, Kaho, you have to help me save Naseru. That's one of the first steps."
Don't worry - there'll be many opportunities but you have to notice the opportunities. I'll do everything to remember and list the events in these letters so that you can remember and understand the patterns and the sequences ahead.
Those sequences… those paths will determine so much for you and Naseru who will be transferring from the United States.
If only you knew the horrors your classmates and friends would be subjected to in the polluted viciously tampered attacked sabotaged environment. Then again, maybe it's better that you don't. Because I want this you, the you I wasn't, to be able to make the tangible changes to calibrate stop it. You won't be the only one, Kaho, who gets letters like this; it's a plan, you see? But we don't know who or what the rest of us aim to correct. To someone like Eiji, Ryota's friend, he might tell his past self to pass the basketball to someone else in the preliminary match so he doesn't get embarrassed when he misses because he thinks fixing his pride is an important step – he might not care to remember when he missed a shot after all this time. But we are all trying to keep you from making mistakes. Catastrophic mistakes.
You've come this far, Kaho, and you're probably really confused, I would be too. This is a lot to take in, but I want to explain it to you properly – you and I coexist in parallel times, at different points, and in my world, people were too greedy, too selfish, selfishness and selflessness aren't bad when calibrated but too many people were just overly selfish when t Nand started a domino effect. Bad decisions, wrong decisions that changed our world for the worse. We are suffering through famines, illness, and loneliness where I am now. I don't want that for you, Kaho.
When I think of you, I think of how giddy you were to go back to school, and how much you loved your boyfriend. How you thought a catastrophe was the canteen shop only having melon bread left instead of milk bread or curry buns. And how much you adore your cats. You were good. I'd like to think I'm still good, somewhere here. Which is why I want the best for you.
We are malleable as teenagers, willing to listen, learn and change. Not always for the better either. Adults aren't. That's why I'm trusting you, Kaho, the you reading this right here and now to save Naseru and change the trajectory of the dominoes. You have to change your future.
Kaho's heart was racing, it felt like her lungs were in her throat. There was something chilling about reading everything her Future Self said in that letter from end to end. She wondered if that was why Maki had chomped on her finger with such ferocity she had been sick.
She looked up from the stack of papers as the door opened, Himiko prancing into the living room, shoes abandoned, dancing around, "I'm going to be Class Rep and Mum's promised me 'Twinkies'!"
Kaho stifled a giggle. Himiko would not make a good diplomat, swayed by their snacks and underhanded tactics. And, on top of that, those 'Twinkies', if her Future Self was correct, were going to taste like polystyrene.
"Kaho!" Mum said, "I didn't expect you home, are you okay?"
Kaho nodded, "Just a bit under the weather. I've chopped the vegetables for soup tonight."
"Thank you, my lovely girl," Kaho's mum said, putting her hand on her older daughter's forehead, "You're a bit red, and warm, go lie down for me, okay?"
Kaho nodded, making her way back upstairs. She found her cats asleep on her bed. Her wardrobe was still closed, the letters safely hidden. Kaho opened the wardrobe and removed the next letter.
The next envelope had the next day's date written on it. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the sticker on the envelope. She closed her eyes, took a shaky breath, and tore it open. A singular sheet of paper fell out of the ravaged envelope, in stark contrast to her Future Self's first letter.
With just one sentence on it:
'It wasn't Hikaru.'