That night, Rin sat alone in his apartment, going over the same questions he had spent years avoiding. His eyes drifted to the whiteboard mounted beside his desk. A stack of old mathematics and physics textbooks rested beside it, forgotten beneath a thin layer of dust. The whiteboard was crowded with years of notes, arrows, crossed-out theories, and questions that had never found answers.
At its center, four conclusions stood out above everything else:
3:00 AM — The shift happens.
Erasure — Buildings, textbooks, and physical records disappear.
Memory wipe — Human minds are altered to accept the new reality as absolute fact.
Early teenagers — Temporary memory retention observed. Duration unknown.
Once the shift occurred, almost everyone simply accepted the new world. Rin was the only one he knew who remembered the inconsistencies left behind. Not every shift was as massive as a disappearing apartment block. Sometimes, the fractures were minuscule—a slightly altered conversation, or tiny, localized details. But he had spent years ignoring them, convincing himself that life was easier if he simply looked away.
Nagi's question had made ignoring them impossible.
Tonight, Rin wasn't going to sleep. He wanted to see what happened when the clock reached 3:00 AM.
At 2:55 AM, Rin sat quietly on his living room couch. The apartment was pitch black, illuminated only by the faint red glow of the digital clock. For a decade, he had never witnessed another event like that first night. He had noticed the aftermath—the missing details, altered records, small inconsistencies—but never the shift itself.
Tonight, he intended to find out if it could happen again.
He waited, watching the red numbers change one minute at a time.
3:07 AM.
Nothing.
3:27 AM.
Still nothing.
4:00 AM.
Only the crushing silence of an empty room.
By 5:15 AM, the first grey light of dawn had begun to filter through the curtains. Rin remained on the couch, watching the clock. Nothing had happened. He checked the time again. 5:16. There had been no blackout, no metallic hum, no interruption he could detect.
Rin leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. The experiment had failed. Or the conditions had been wrong. If the shift could not be observed directly, then he needed another source of evidence. The note on his whiteboard came back to him:
Early teenagers — Temporary memory retention observed.
He opened his eyes and stood.
That morning, Rin walked into his first-period classroom at Tsukiyo High School. The students greeted him as usual. He placed his papers on the desk and looked over the room.
“How is everyone doing lately?” he asked.
“Tired,” someone answered.
A few students laughed.
“Exams,” another student said. “And homework.”
“Anyone staying up late because of it?”
A few hands went up.
“How late?”
“Around one,” someone said.
“Two,” another added.
Rin nodded. “Anyone ever stay up until three?”
A few students laughed. A boy in the middle row shrugged. “I stay up watching shows all the time.”
Another girl mentioned a sleepover that had lasted until four.
Rin listened to each answer carefully, checking their faces for the same hesitation Nagi had shown. None of them remembered anything unusual.
He nodded once. “Alright. Let’s begin the chapter.”
By afternoon, exhaustion had begun to dull his concentration, but his mind remained fixed on what had happened. He walked into the faculty room and moved toward his desk, still considering his next step. Before he could sit down, someone called his name.
“Takeda?”
Rin looked up. An older faculty member stood nearby, accompanied by a woman Rin had never seen before. She had a slim build, a stylish wolf-cut framing her face, and wore simple but impeccably neat clothing.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Rin studied her for a moment.
The older teacher smiled and gestured toward her. “Meet our new geography teacher. Shigure Koharu.”
Rin blinked through the fog of exhaustion. Right. He had forgotten about the mid-term transfer.
“Shigure, this is our history teacher, Rin Takeda,” the older teacher said.
Shigure bowed politely. “It's very nice to meet you.”
Rin returned the bow. “Likewise.”
“Shigure Koharu...”
He paused.
“Shigure... passing rain. Koharu... little spring.”
He looked at her.
“That's an unusual combination.”
The words left his mouth before he had time to filter them.
A brief silence followed.
The older teacher blinked. Shigure looked slightly surprised.
Rin realized he had just said all of that aloud.
“...Sorry. I haven't slept.”
Shigure smiled, her expression entirely unbothered.
“You're right about the meaning,” she said. “It's a nice change of pace from the usual questions about my commute.”
Rin gave a brief nod.
“Right.”
He excused himself and returned to his desk.
He decided it was better not to say anything else.
Later that afternoon, Rin hurried back toward the staff room after finishing his last class, his thoughts still unsettled. As he rounded a blind corner, he failed to notice Shigure approaching with a senior teacher on a tour of the school.
Both were looking elsewhere.
They crashed into each other. Both of them stumbled, and Rin nearly lost his footing completely.
“Oh! I'm so sorry!” the senior teacher exclaimed, stepping aside in surprise.
“Sorry!” Shigure gasped, immediately reaching out to steady him.
Rin grabbed her hand by pure instinct to keep from falling. As he did, her long sleeve slipped slightly up her forearm. His eyes darted down, catching sight of a jagged, deliberate mark carved into her wrist. It wasn't just a scratch.
It was a permanent scar.
Shigure followed his gaze. Without a second of hesitation, she yanked her arm back, hastily pulling the fabric down to cover her skin.
“...Sorry,” she whispered, her voice tight. Before either Rin or the senior teacher could say another word, she hurried away down the hallway.
The senior teacher watched her leave with a puzzled expression before offering Rin an apologetic smile. “She seems a little nervous,” she said quietly.
Rin barely heard her. His attention remained on the scar he had just seen.
The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully.
When school finally dismissed, dark clouds hung low over Mizuhara, and a light shower had begun to fall. Rin stopped beneath the main entrance, looking out at the light rain.
He had an umbrella. He could open it. He didn't. He usually liked the rain, but after staying awake all night, he was tired enough to feel the cold settling deep into his bones.
Near the gate, two younger students stood hesitating, looking out at the rain. Rin walked over to them.
“You don't have umbrellas?”
They shook their heads. Rin pulled his folded umbrella from his bag and held it out.
“Take it.”
They looked at him in surprise.
“No, sir. We're fine.”
Rin glanced toward the road.
“Don’t you have a long walk?”
Both girls nodded.
He extended the umbrella toward them again.
“Then take it.”
They exchanged a quick look before accepting it.
“Thank you, Takeda-sensei.”
Rin nodded.
“Go before the rain gets worse.”
He watched them disappear down the street, their figures fading into the mist.
Then he stepped out from beneath the awning.
The rain touched his hair almost immediately.
Rin heard a voice behind him.
“Takeda.”
He stopped and turned.
Shigure caught up at a normal walking pace, adjusting the strap of her bag.
“Going home?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Me too.”
They fell into step beside each other. For a while, neither spoke. The rain fell steadily around them.
“...one... two... three...”
Shigure glanced at him. “Are you counting?”
Rin looked at her. “No.”
She watched him for a second. Then she looked ahead again.
They continued walking through the rain.
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“A few blocks from here.”
“Near the school?”
“Yeah.”
“That's convenient.”
Rin nodded. A few more steps passed.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“You’re new here, right?”
“Where did you live before Mizuhara?” Rin asked.
Shigure gave him the name of her previous city. Rin recognized it immediately. It was a sprawling metropolis, a world away from Mizuhara. He wanted to ask why she’d left when the drizzle suddenly intensified into a deafening, violent deluge.
“Over here,” Rin said.
They both hurried for the nearest cover, huddling beneath the narrow, dripping awning of a closed convenience store. The rain crashed against the asphalt in sheets, instantly flooding the gutters.
Shigure sighed softly, shivering as she brushed wet hair from her face.
“I completely forgot an umbrella today. I'm still getting used to how unpredictable the weather is here.”
“I gave mine away,” Rin said.
He looked out at the flooded street. It was obvious this storm wasn't going to let up anytime soon.
“My apartment is just around the corner,” Rin said. “If you want to wait there until the rain slows down.”
Shigure looked at him, slightly surprised.
“Alright.”
Using their bags as makeshift shields against the deluge, they ran the remaining block to Rin’s apartment. “By the time Rin unlocked the door and let her inside, both of them were soaked. They stepped out of their shoes in the entryway.”
Rin dropped their bags beside the couch and went to the linen closet. He returned with a clean towel and held it out to her.
“H-Here.”
“Thank you.” Shigure dabbed at her wet hair.
Rin glanced toward the hallway. “I think I have some spare clothes you could wear.”
Shigure gave him a polite smile. “No thanks. I’m okay.” She pointed toward the hallway. “You should change first. You’re completely soaked.”
Why did I say that?
Rin nodded. “Right.”
He disappeared down the hallway. His apartment wasn't large, but it was meticulously clean. The kitchen opened into a narrow hallway connecting the bathroom, an empty guest room, and his sparse bedroom. Everything had its place.
After changing into dry clothes, Rin returned to the living room with two cups of hot tea.
“I never properly apologized for earlier,” he said. “I’ve been awake since yesterday.”
Shigure didn't respond.
Rin stopped.
She stood in the middle of the room, completely still. Her shoulders were rigid. One hand tightened around the towel. Her breathing had changed.
Rin watched her for a moment. “Shigure?”
She looked at him. “Takeda... do you have an umbrella?”
Rin glanced toward the window. “Yes.”
He took one from the entryway closet and handed it to her. She accepted it without meeting his eyes. Then she turned and left.
The door closed behind her.
Rin remained where he was. He looked at the closed door, then at the room around him.
Nothing he had said explained her reaction. She had been comfortable in the rain. Comfortable walking beside him.
Inside the apartment, something had changed.
Rin looked at the closed door again.
Something felt strange.