Then she was there again. Classroom 2-B, bright fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, the smell of lunch trays and pencil shavings filling her nose. She was in line, tray in hand, and there was Ayumi. Smiling. Sweet. The way she always used to, the way Yui remembered her before… everything.

  “Maybe it was all a dream,” Yui thought, a flicker of hope she hated herself for feeling. Maybe Ayumi was still alive. Maybe she could go back to laughing in the cafeteria instead of… whatever this nightmare was supposed to be.

  They got their trays, grabbed their usual spot, and for a split second, it was like nothing had ever happened. The cafeteria chatter, the clatter of trays, the smell of reheated pizza—it was all too perfect, almost painful in its normalcy.

  Watch it, Yui,” Ayumi said, eyes glinting mischievously. And just like that—she tripped her.

  Yui went down, lunch flying. Pasta smeared across the floor, her papers scattered, a juice box rolling under a chair.

  “Loser!” Ayumi laughed, loud and sharp, the sound echoing in Yui’s chest like a hammer.

  For a moment, Yui froze, humiliated. But then Ayumi crouched down, offering a hand. “C’mon.” she said, pulling Yui up. The lunch mess didn’t matter. She held her up, steadying her, and for a split second, the nightmare softened.

  “Remember when I scraped my knee in gym?” Ayumi teased, nudging Yui with her elbow as they walked. Yui couldn’t help it—a laugh escaped her, shaky but real. She remembered the tiny bit of comfort, the way Ayumi had once been there.

  And then… it twisted.

  Ayumi’s eyes darkened, her smile sharp again. “Funny,” she said. “How come you helped me that one time I scraped my knee… but you couldn’t help me when—oh, I forgot.” Her tone dropped, venomous now, cold. “You were the one killing me.”

  Yui jerked awake again, this time on the cold, worn seat of the abandoned bus. Her cheeks were streaked with tears she didn’t even realize she’d shed, chest heaving. The shadows pressed close, heavy and silent.

  “A… Yui?”

  The voice was soft, careful. Familiar. Yui blinked through her tears and saw Airi, sitting beside her, worry etched across her perfect, composed face.

  “I… I…” Yui’s voice cracked, and the words wouldn’t come. She curled into herself, trembling. Before she knew it, she was clinging to Airi, crying into her shoulder like the last safe thing in the world.

  “I don’t want you to die,” she sobbed. “I don’t want anyone—anyone else—to die.”

  Airi held her tight, one hand rubbing Yui’s back in soothing circles, the other resting lightly on her shoulder. “Shh… it’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s okay, Yui. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Her voice was steady, warm, the kind of voice that made Yui’s chest unclench slightly. But deep down… Airi’s own stomach churned. She didn’t know if it was true. She wanted it to be, but something in her gut whispered otherwise. So she stayed quiet, letting the lie—soft, comforting, necessary—wrap around Yui like a shield.

  “Thank you,” Yui sniffled, burying her face further into Airi’s shoulder. Her pulse was slowly returning to normal, but the bracelet on her ankle pulsed faintly, almost like it was warning her that safety was just an illusion.

  Airi patted her gently. “I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen while you’re with me.”

  The next morning, sunlight sliced through the cracked windows of the abandoned bus. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams. Yui was still curled in a corner, rubbing her eyes, trying to convince herself that maybe, just maybe, the nightmare hadn’t left its mark on her soul.

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  The door rattled, and in walked Haru, hands full of bags. He set them down with a thump, grinning like nothing was wrong in the world.

  “…How did you buy all this?” Yui asked suspiciously, squinting at the assortment of snacks, bottled water, and random supplies.

  Haru shrugged, smirking. “I didn’t.”

  Yui blinked. “…W-what?!”

  “I stole it,” he said casually, tossing her a granola bar. “Relax. No one was around.”

  Yui froze, clutching the bar like it might bite. “Don’t do that! You could lead people—people—over here!” Her voice pitched in panic.

  Haru rolled his eyes, dropping onto a seat like the world’s most unconcerned criminal. “Relax. It’s fine. We’re invisible here. Totally undetectable.”

  The bus smelled faintly of dust, food, and Haru’s “stolen goods.” Kaito sat cross-legged on the floor, nibbling at a granola bar, while Yui hesitated before grabbing one herself. Haru had really gone all out.

  “We need to figure out the Jesters clock,” Kaito said quietly, tone clipped. His voice carried a weight that made even the granola bar feel unimportant.

  Airi frowned. “I don’t think regular tools could fix that.”

  Kaito shook his head, expression hardening. “It’s either we try… or we stay in this time for the rest of our lives.”

  The room fell into tense silence. Then slowly, they began getting dressed. Winter jackets, gloves, scarves—Haru’s “stolen” contributions.

  Airi tugged at Kaito’s sleeve gently. “Can I… warm your hands?” she asked softly.

  Kaito blinked, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. He held his hands out. Airi rubbed them, her palms pressing warmth into his, and for the briefest moment, Kaito’s lips twitched into a smile. His chest felt lighter, though his mind stayed sharp. Heart skipping a beat, he tried to hide it.

  “Oh! Yeah, I stole some clothes for you guys too,” Haru piped up, holding up two thick jackets. “Winter stuff. I… idk if they’re the same size, but all I saw was size 12-13. That’s… age, right?”

  Yui hoped they fit. They slid on like regular jackets, just warm enough to fend off the chill creeping in from the cracked windows. Not perfect, but enough.

  They were about to leave the bus when a faint scrape echoed outside. Someone—or something—was circling the bus.

  Everyone froze. Kaito’s eyes narrowed. Yui clutched her jacket tighter. Airi’s hands hovered near her chest. Haru, as usual, tried to shrug it off, but even he went quiet.

  The noise faded. Kaito peeked cautiously out the cracked window. “It’s… okay. Come out.”

  Slowly, they opened the door, stepping onto the cracked asphalt. The morning air smelled cold, sharp, and unfamiliar. The cityscape of 2024 stretched around them, streets empty, a thin fog hanging low.

  The city smelled faintly of asphalt and exhaust, the sun low in the sky, painting long shadows across cracked sidewalks. The group had finally found a quiet spot outside an old shop, benches worn smooth from years of use. Yui perched on the edge of one, still fidgeting with her jacket, trying to push the lingering memory of her nightmare out of her mind.

  And then she saw them.

  Adult Haru and Yui. And a little girl who they called Hana, with black hair and grey-tinged eyes. Hana waved, bright and cheerful. Yui’s chest twisted, caught between disbelief and longing. Her hand rose almost automatically. She waved back, unsure if she wanted this to be real or just another trick of her mind.

  Yui’s eyes lingered on Hana. Something about her—the way she blinked, the soft curve of her mouth—made her think faintly of Haruka. A pang of guilt stabbed her chest.

  “Is… is that me?” Yui whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

  Kaito, crouched nearby with a small toolbox, didn’t look up. “Probably not.” he said coolly, though his fingers tightened on the tools.

  Yui shook her head, forcing herself to look away. “Yeah… probably not.”

  Haru’s attention drifted to the small collection of supplies, muttering under his breath about stolen jackets. Yui’s gaze kept flicking back toward the distant trio, lingering just long enough to leave a hollow ache in her chest before she forced herself to focus.

  Minutes passed as Kaito worked meticulously on the Jester’s Clock. Yui’s hands stayed folded in her lap, trembling slightly, heart skipping at the thought that she might one day have that little girl, that family, that future. Haru, of course, munched happily, oblivious to everything but the taste of the granola bar.

  Then—click. Whir.

  The clock stilled, low hum replaced by a faint pulse. Kaito leaned back, exhaling softly. “Done,” he said. Calm, steady, precise.

  Haru whistled. “Wow. You actually made it work. Cool.” He didn’t notice the weight in Yui’s eyes, didn’t see the flicker of pain and hope.

  Airi gave Kaito a soft smile, brushing his sleeve lightly. He glanced at her, heart skipping slightly, before returning to the clock.

  Yui hugged her jacket tighter, forcing herself to exhale. Nothing else had changed, but somehow everything felt heavier. She stole one last glance toward the distance where Hana had been, and she blinked. They were gone.