lockers more quickly.
Breathing a bit heavily, Asahina answered: “I guess so…”
“So was there some incident that made you have to travel into the past?”
“No, it wasn’t anything I could think of. You just dragged me over to that broom closet and pushed me in.”
So I’d pushed her in and ordered her to go to this time, today. That was strange, even for me. What the hell had I been thinking? I should’ve come with her. I would’ve saved myself the trouble of figuring all this out.
We’d just made it to the shoe lockers without meeting anyone we knew when I suddenly stopped short.
“Where should we go?” I asked.
We obviously had to get away from the school, but I had no idea where to hide Asahina after that.
So what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t very well do nothing and just have her return to eight days in the future, could I—? I asked.
“You can’t,” said Asahina, her upturned gaze sad. “I thought the same thing and asked about it, but they said no. The time when I’m allowed to go back is also classified, and I don’t know it myself.”
Which meant that this Asahina from eight days in the future had something she had to do today, or tomorrow, or soon. I’d just assume that much.
So?
So the number one thing I wanted to know was what that was. Why had my eight-days-later self sent her back without so much as a single note?
As I hurled curses at my future self, Asahina trotted over to the second-year students’ shoe lockers, and just as I was changing from my school slippers into my sneakers—
“Asahina!” I hurriedly looked around for the time traveler’s form. She was reaching up to her own shoe locker, which was located on a high row.
“Yes?” she replied, looking over her shoulder as she reached up. “What is it?”
I couldn’t believe she was asking me that. “Those shoes belong to your past self! The one in
this
time!”
“Ah—r-right…” she said, closing the door to the locker. “If I put these on, then my other self would have a hard time getting home. And I don’t remember my shoes going missing, so…”
That wasn’t all. She would’ve put her own school shoes back in the locker, and then what would’ve happened? The other Asahina would come back, open the locker, and find shoes precisely identical to the ones she was already wearing already inside.
“R-right,” said Asahina, flustered. “But, um, how am I going to get home?”
She’d just have to wear her school slippers, I thought. It might be a little embarrassing, but there was no other way. She couldn’t very well borrow another student’s shoes. And at the moment, I was more worried about
where
she was going to go home, rather than
how
.
I returned to my own shoe locker, opening it as my heart banged away in my chest.
And there, nostalgically enough, I found a message from the future.
“… Good job, Asahina. You’re always prepared.”
There atop my dirty, worn-out sneakers sat a fancy little envelope.
A cold wind stabbed at Asahina and me as we walked down the street, away from the school.
There was a scattering of other students from North High around, and I wondered if the feeling I had that they were all glancing at Asahina’s strange state—carrying no school bag and wearing her school slippers—was just my imagination.
Asahina was to my right, her chestnut-brown hair swaying softly. Her expression was far from soft, though—it was as dark as the clouds before a snowstorm.
And there was no doubt my own face was hardly untroubled. After all, I’d been forced to flee the clubroom, and my skippingclub activities (actually, it was a brigade, so brigade activities) without notice would put the Chief in a bad mood, and unless I thought of a funny enough excuse or a good enough reason, I’d become fodder for one of her special punishments.
Nevertheless, leaving Asahina alone was risky in several ways. Seeing her wander aimlessly under the freezing night sky would make
Breathing a bit heavily, Asahina answered: “I guess so…”
“So was there some incident that made you have to travel into the past?”
“No, it wasn’t anything I could think of. You just dragged me over to that broom closet and pushed me in.”
So I’d pushed her in and ordered her to go to this time, today. That was strange, even for me. What the hell had I been thinking? I should’ve come with her. I would’ve saved myself the trouble of figuring all this out.
We’d just made it to the shoe lockers without meeting anyone we knew when I suddenly stopped short.
“Where should we go?” I asked.
We obviously had to get away from the school, but I had no idea where to hide Asahina after that.
So what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t very well do nothing and just have her return to eight days in the future, could I—? I asked.
“You can’t,” said Asahina, her upturned gaze sad. “I thought the same thing and asked about it, but they said no. The time when I’m allowed to go back is also classified, and I don’t know it myself.”
Which meant that this Asahina from eight days in the future had something she had to do today, or tomorrow, or soon. I’d just assume that much.
So?
So the number one thing I wanted to know was what that was. Why had my eight-days-later self sent her back without so much as a single note?
As I hurled curses at my future self, Asahina trotted over to the second-year students’ shoe lockers, and just as I was changing from my school slippers into my sneakers—
“Asahina!” I hurriedly looked around for the time traveler’s form. She was reaching up to her own shoe locker, which was located on a high row.
“Yes?” she replied, looking over her shoulder as she reached up. “What is it?”
I couldn’t believe she was asking me that. “Those shoes belong to your past self! The one in
this
time!”
“Ah—r-right…” she said, closing the door to the locker. “If I put these on, then my other self would have a hard time getting home. And I don’t remember my shoes going missing, so…”
That wasn’t all. She would’ve put her own school shoes back in the locker, and then what would’ve happened? The other Asahina would come back, open the locker, and find shoes precisely identical to the ones she was already wearing already inside.
“R-right,” said Asahina, flustered. “But, um, how am I going to get home?”
She’d just have to wear her school slippers, I thought. It might be a little embarrassing, but there was no other way. She couldn’t very well borrow another student’s shoes. And at the moment, I was more worried about
where
she was going to go home, rather than
how
.
I returned to my own shoe locker, opening it as my heart banged away in my chest.
And there, nostalgically enough, I found a message from the future.
“… Good job, Asahina. You’re always prepared.”
There atop my dirty, worn-out sneakers sat a fancy little envelope.
A cold wind stabbed at Asahina and me as we walked down the street, away from the school.
There was a scattering of other students from North High around, and I wondered if the feeling I had that they were all glancing at Asahina’s strange state—carrying no school bag and wearing her school slippers—was just my imagination.
Asahina was to my right, her chestnut-brown hair swaying softly. Her expression was far from soft, though—it was as dark as the clouds before a snowstorm.
And there was no doubt my own face was hardly untroubled. After all, I’d been forced to flee the clubroom, and my skippingclub activities (actually, it was a brigade, so brigade activities) without notice would put the Chief in a bad mood, and unless I thought of a funny enough excuse or a good enough reason, I’d become fodder for one of her special punishments.
Nevertheless, leaving Asahina alone was risky in several ways. Seeing her wander aimlessly under the freezing night sky would make
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