I’m snooping.

I’ve returned to the classroom and am now rummaging through the belongings of the girl who has feelings for me.

I don’t like what I’m doing, of course, and I’m really feeling like I’ve strayed from the straight and narrow this time.

It’s PE right now, so Maria made the call that it would be better to dig through the suspect’s things and find some clues before confronting her directly.

I agreed, though I couldn’t bring myself to say so, which is why I went along with the plan despite my wounded morals.

There’s no point unless I do some rummaging, too. Maria’s already gone through everyone’s things many times before. Judging by our current predicament, she hasn’t had much luck with it. That makes sense, though. Maria didn’t know any of our classmates before today, so she wouldn’t be able to tell if anything was weird or not.

“Phew…”

This girl’s textbooks are unexpectedly full of neatly color-coded underlined sections, and her notebooks contain small, rounded letters in a vibrant assortment of colors. There’s a doodle of a cat in the left margin, and another picture of a cat in the same place on the next page. The same with the page after that, too… That’s when I realize that together, the pictures make a flip-book. As I flip through the pages, a cat flies into space on a rocket made out of cans. I have to chuckle at that, which provokes a glare from Maria.

Our suspect’s bag is full of the cute articles anyone would expect a girl to have. Most everything is either pink or white. Her iPod is jam-packed with J-pop. She must have her wallet with her, because it’s nowhere to be found.

“Oh!”

I find a cell phone covered with pretty decorations. A treasure trove of personal information.

My hopes of finding a few leads are dashed to bits when it turns out the phone is locked. I won’t be able to explore its hidden secrets, but I’m kinda glad I don’t have to look through it, too.

Next, I open the makeup pouch beside a pink mirror. This must be foundation, and that’s probably some colored lip balm. Here’s a pencil for drawing on eyebrows and scissors for trimming them, and this brand new one here must be…mascara.

“…”

Huh?

Something isn’t right.

“Did you find something, Kazuki?”

“……I’m not sure, but…”

I dig through the makeup bag. There doesn’t seem to anything suspicious inside.

“Maria, what do you think of this pouch?”

“Well, I’ve certainly seen it before, but I never found anything strange about it…”

Maria’s face freezes as her sentence trails off.

“—Wait, that’s impossible. She shouldn’t have this. If she did, I would’ve noticed during the 27,755 times before. But…she actually—”

“What is it? Did you think of something?”

“…Did you notice anything else, Kazuki?”

“…Huh? …Well, it did strike me as unusual for her to have it.”

“How could this be?”

Maria has a pained expression on her face.

I resume digging through the bag to see if anything else turns up. Down toward the bottom, my fingers make contact with a texture I know well. I pull the object out.

“Ah—”

Something is coming back to me.

The familiar packaging triggers a memory.

“So maybe if I’d made a move on you differently, you might’ve gone out with me?”

“Okay, I get it. I’ll just keep after you until you finally return my feelings.”

No way.

No way.

No way.

I refuse to believe this. This is BS.

It has to be a coincidence, nothing but a random fluke, but it’s too out there for my brain to have made it up…

“Maria, what’s your favorite food?”

“…What’s with you all of a sudden?” Maria frowns at me. “…Hey, what’s wrong, Kazuki? You look pale.”

“…Mine is Umaibo.”

I show Maria what I found in the bag.

It’s one of my flavored rice sticks.

“My favorite is corn potage, but I’ve never told anyone because nobody really cares. I snack on them in class all the time, but I’m always eating different flavors since I like to give them all a try. There’s no way anyone would know that I like corn potage the best.”

“You aren’t such a big fan of the teriyaki burger flavor, though.”

“Which one’s your favorite?”

I stare at the snacks again, wanting to believe this is some sort of mistake.

Every time I look, they’re always the same.

They’re corn potage flavor, not teriyaki burger.

The memory they’ve conjured up is telling me something.

Even if it’s a coincidence that she has a corn potage Umaibo in her bag, the images in my mind are declaring irrefutably that she has to be the owner.

“Kazuki.”

Maria grips me firmly by the shoulders. Her nails dig into my skin and drag me back into awareness.

“This is the part where I’d like to say ‘She has to be the owner. We finally found her,’ but I don’t think that’s the case…”

She sounds so bitter that I have to ask what she means.

“There’s no way the person who managed to fool me for 27,755 transfers would make such a careless mistake.”

“But I thought you said you never actually knew who the owner was?”

“That’s not quite right. For all we know, I could have identified her as the culprit many times before this. But I wasn’t able to remember it was her.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but it most likely has to do with the rules of the Rejecting Classroom. It’s not impossible when you think about it. The Rejecting Classroom will exist as long as the owner continues to believe time is looping. If they’re identified, it would cause the whole premise of the classroom to collapse. That’s why the rules are set up so anyone who learns the identity of the owner will forget.”

“…But this time we found out it’s her.”

“True, but it’s no cause for celebration.”

Maria continues angrily.

“What I mean is that if we don’t do something this time, we’ll lose everything we’ve learned.”

I can see what she means. If we mess this up, our memories will be wiped, and we’ll have to start our hunt all over again from scratch.

Maria is grinding her teeth in vexation. She’s used to having as many tries as she needs, so she finds this situation with no room for failure extremely irritating.

“…Hey, you normally only get one try in the game of life, anyway. There’s no pressing the reset button and loading from a save point, not even for the little things.”

I thought that sounded pretty cool, but Maria only gives me a chilly look.

“Did you really think that would cheer me up?”

“S-sorry… You just looked so upset that I had to say something.”

Maria’s mouth softens at my apology.

“Oh, I’m definitely upset, but it’s not because we’re in a tight spot.”

“…So then why?”

“Don’t you see? The Rejecting Classroom hasn’t ended, even though I’ve managed to locate the owner several times in the past. You know what that means, right?”

I tilt my head.

I can’t tell if Maria’s angry at me, the culprit, or herself as she spits out her next words.

“It means the owner has beaten me every single time.”

✵

“Kokone.”

“Oh, if it isn’t Kazuki Hoshino, Mr. Loverboy himself.”

Kokone teases me in her usual silly tone of voice.

It’s lunch break. The class didn’t go easy on Maria and me after we skipped all our morning classes. Maria put an end to it pretty quickly by refusing to utter even a single word in response. But it seems our classmates can’t keep their curiosity in check, because now they’re staring. Not that I don’t understand why.

“Um, hey, Kokone. Actually, I—”

I stop myself midsentence. Her normally cheerful expression has been replaced by a much more serious one, and she’s taken hold of my sleeve.

With a quick glance toward Maria, she leads me from the classroom.

“I have something I want to ask you. No dodging the question.”

Releasing her grip on me once we’re beside the door, Kokone continues.

“What’s going on between you and Otonashi?”

“…Why do you ask?” I already know the answer, but I put the question to her anyway. Her only response is to lower her gaze, though. “It’s not that easy to explain.”

Kokone remains silent, her eyes fixed on the floor.

“But Otonashi isn’t the person I like,” I add.

Hearing this, she looks up at me with wide eyes.

“So that means…”

Something catches her attention, though, and she doesn’t finish. The action doesn’t slip by me unnoticed.

She’s peering hard into the classroom, as if searching for someone.

Her eyes stop scanning.

They’re focused on Kasumi Mogi.

As of March 1, I wasn’t yet in love with Mogi, and I haven’t interacted with her at all so far during this 27,755th transfer.

“The truth is, Kokone, there’s something I need to ask of you. Could you—?”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t need to say it. I think I understand things pretty clearly now.” Kokone smiles and continues. “How about meeting in the kitchen after school? We can talk about everything there, Kazu.” At first, I wonder why she chose the kitchen, but then I remember that Kokone is in the home economics club. “I don’t think there will be anyone there today.”

Kokone looks at me again as I nod okay. Her expression is unreadable.

“Kazuki.”

Maria calls me over from where she was watching on the other side of the door. She’s probably signaling to me that it’s time to leave.

After telling her I would see her later, I start to turn away from Kokone.

“Ah, hold up a second.”

I stop short and face her again.

“Hey, I just want to ask you something. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, though…”

“What is it?”

“Who is it that you like?”

I answer without a moment’s hesitation.

“Mogi.”

As she hears this, Kokone lowers her head to hide her face. But I see her expression before it’s completely hidden. There’s no way I could miss it.

Kokone is smiling.

✵

School is over for the day.

As soon as Maria and I rushed into the kitchen after hearing a scream, we knew just how badly we had failed in everything.

We missed this opportunity that would never come again.

Just as expected, Kokone Kirino and Kasumi Mogi are inside. No, to be more exact, Kokone Kirino andsomething that was once Kasumi Mogi are in the room.

The kitchen is covered in blood.

The one behind all of this stands gripping a kitchen knife, its blade still dripping wet.

“Kazu.”

The look on her face doesn’t change once she notices me.

“…Wh-why…?”

I don’t understand. Why did she need to do this?

Mogi is watching me, her diminutive figure drenched in blood, with the same blank expression she always wears. This time, however, the unmistakable gleam of reproach is in her eyes. Yeah, of course there is. There’s no doubting that I’m the one who caused this situation.

“It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts…”

Mogi’s been quietly mumbling this whole time as if casting a curse upon me.

I don’t want to hear any of it. Suddenly, I want to plug my ears and block it out, but I don’t. I lost free control of my actions the moment I saw Mogi’s bloodstained body. Her words force their way into my ears. I fight my hardest to avoid understanding them, but it’s no use. The words swell and surge like an avalanche, pouring over me until they engulf my immobile form.

Mogi is speaking to me.

She’s condemning me and voicing her hatred.

“It hurts.”