Chapter 17: "The Sound of the World Clicking to a Stop"
“I can hear it! It’s definitely over here! Rin-chan‚ hurry!”
I splashed through the cold water up to my knees‚ racing down the hallway of the abandoned building swallowed by fog.
The crying I’d been hearing since last night.
Thin‚ fragile‚ but unmistakably—
The voice of that child‚ like it was pleading‚ “I’m here.”
(Hey‚ just wait…! You know‚ my “distressed-person sensor” is actually high performance!)
“…Wait. The footing’s unstable. Nagisa‚ your ‘intuition’ sometimes misreads coordinates.”
From behind‚ Rin-chan’s cold voice chased me.
Her usual scolding… but today‚ her voice was hard‚ like crushing rock candy with your molars.
(Wh-what’s with that voice… scary… but I like it… no‚ this isn’t the time!)
“It’s okay! My ears are on par with Prince Shōtoku!
I hear the sound of a snack bag opening with my right ear and catch a lost child’s voice with my left. That’s my special ability!”
“…Prince Shōtoku is someone who could listen to ten people at once. Your ears are just hungry‚ aren’t they?”
Rin-chan’s sharp retort spared no mercy today either.
But I could sense a faint tremor of “worry” hidden behind her coldness.
(Because‚ Rin-chan… whenever I rush off on my own‚ she always makes that genuinely troubled face…)
“Look! I can hear it again! Just past that corner!”
From the depths of the fog came the hic… hic… sobbing voice.
Each time‚ my HP was gnawed away by “worry damage.”
(This is bad… if this keeps up‚ my stomach will tie itself in knots from worry…!
But it’s okay‚ my stomach can handle two bowls of ramen…!)
Wait for me.
We’re coming to help you right now.
I hooked my fingers into the gap of a collapsing door—
And forced it open in one push.
Beyond the door might have once been a nursery.
Faded plastic blocks‚ picture books stiffened with mud.
The fog entering through broken windows wrapped the room like a white coffin.
(Wow… this is definitely a horror movie set…
But it’s okay‚ I have my “distressed-person sensor”…!
My sense of duty overpowers fear… probably… please let it win…)
“…No one’s here. Nagisa‚ let’s go back.”
Rin-chan stopped at the entrance.
In her eyes‚ there was no hope‚ no wavering‚ no expectation.
Just inorganic light calculating the collapse probability and water infiltration rate of the space.
(Ah… this isn’t “worrying and stopping me”…
It’s the eyes of someone judging “this place has no more value”…)
“That can’t be! I heard it so close!
There’s no way anyone would get that scared from a ghost house without pay‚ just from mishearing!”
I pushed aside the scattered junk and moved deeper into the room.
The water at my feet made cold splashing sounds.
Amid it all—
Sh-sh-sh…
Creepy static joined the crying.
Each time the sobs overlapped with the noise‚ my heart jumped.
(Scary… honestly‚ really scary…
But ignoring a “help me” violates the charter of my adventurer guild (self-proclaimed)…!
I’m the guild master… but still… it’s against it…!)
“…Nagisa. Stop chasing that ‘sound.’
…It’s not what you think it is.”
Rin-chan’s voice pierced my back.
Not the usual “danger” warning.
A voice rejecting something on a deeper level.
(Huh… Rin-chan… why say it like that…?
It’s not “stop because it’s dangerous”…
It’s more like… “deny that existence itself”…)
“Rin-chan‚ you can hear it too‚ right!? It’s a child’s voice!
Lost‚ cold‚ crying alone!
We just fixed the heater‚ remember?
We have to give them a warm place!”
I grabbed a stack of desks and toppled them all.
Clattering echoed‚ and the fog swirled lightly.
Beyond that—
A small “shadow” sat in a dark corner.
“…Ah… found you!”
(See… there you are…!
My ears are high performance after all…!
Rin-chan‚ will you believe me now…?)
My chest raced.
But Rin-chan’s footsteps—
Stayed frozen behind me.
I ran toward the shadow.
“It’s okay‚ you don’t have to be scared. We’ll—”
The hand I reached out froze midair.
It wasn’t a child.
A dusty‚ old cassette recorder.
A bear-shaped recorder for children.
But its plastic body was cracked‚ and pale blue liquid oozed from the battery compartment.
And—
‘…U… uah… aahn…’
The sobs came from the bear’s mouth.
Each time the broken speaker vibrated‚ a scraping metal sound mingled with it.
(Huh… wait…
This isn’t a child… it’s a bear…?
No‚ not even a bear… something in the shape of a bear…?
Give me back my feelings…)
“…It’s just… a machine…”
My strength drained.
Someone must have recorded a child’s voice long ago.
In this post-apocalyptic world‚ its broken circuits shorted‚ endlessly looping the same cry.
(This… this is too cruel…
A lone being crying endlessly in such a world…
Even if it’s a machine‚ that’s unbearable…)
“…Nagisa. If you understand‚ let’s go.”
Rin-chan stood beside me.
Her eyes were cold‚ like looking at a stranded rock.
(Ah… these aren’t “worrying eyes”…
They’re the eyes of someone seeing something they don’t want to deal with…
Rin-chan‚ why make that face…?)
“Hey‚ Rin-chan. If we fix this‚ will we learn something?
Where this child went…
Where their parents are…”
I reached toward the recorder.
Leaving it to cry here forever felt too cruel.
At least I wanted it to say “goodnight” one last time.
(It’s not about whether I can fix it…
I just can’t leave a crying child alone…)
“…Stop. That’s just trash.
The data is corrupted‚ the circuits are decayed.
Even if you fix it‚ you gain nothing.”
Rin-chan’s voice was cold like an ice blade.
Unassailable logic.
Yet that logic—
Fell into my chest like lead.
(…Rin-chan…
Why say it like that…?
Is wanting to help really that meaningless…?)
The recorder still cried.
In a broken corner of the world‚
Its voice‚ reaching no one‚ repeated endlessly.
“Don’t call it trash!
This child has been crying alone here all this time!
If we fix it‚ maybe its ‘memories’ can be saved!”
I hugged the recorder tightly.
Cold‚ damp‚ even slightly sour.
But fixing this machine felt like the only way to prove that—
In this empty world‚ my goodwill was still “alive.”
(Because… it’s crying…?
Even if it’s a machine‚ I can’t leave a crying child alone…
I just can’t…)
“…Memories‚ huh.
You always pick up useless things.”
Rin-chan’s voice was colder than ever.
Sharp as ice‚ slicing deep into my chest.
“…Nagisa.
What we need to do now is calculate for our own survival.
Not cling to the voices of dead machines.”
“I know! I know‚ but… I can’t leave it alone!”
My vision blurred.
Before‚ when I nearly fell from the overpass—
I reflected on my own irresponsibility.
Yet still.
(Ignoring someone’s voice and only saving myself…
Can that really be called “living”…?
What does Rin-chan… think…?)
“Please‚ Rin-chan… just this once…”
I clung to her‚ begging.
But—
Rin-chan didn’t look at me.
Her gaze focused only on the recorder in my hands.
There was no pity‚ no anger‚ no kindness.
Just cold “conclusion.”
Rin-chan quietly reached out.
“…Rin‚ chan?”
For a moment‚ I hoped.
Maybe she’d help me fix it.
But—
Her fingers didn’t touch the play button.
Instead‚ the main power switch on the side.
(…Eh…
Rin-chan… that…)
Something small crumbled inside me.
“—Ah.”
Click.
A light‚ casual sound‚ like a fingertip habit.
The child’s sobs from the speaker abruptly stopped.
The room returned to complete silence‚ so sharp it hurt my ears.
“…It’s over. There was no ‘person’ there from the start.”
Without lowering her hand from the switch‚ Rin-chan walked on without looking back.
Her back dissolved into the fog‚ looking farther than ever before.
(…Rin-chan…
Don’t say it like that…)
I stood frozen‚ holding the silent bear recorder.
I thought something would change if I fixed it.
I thought saving it would make our future a little brighter.
But—
Reality erased it all with a single “click.”
My goodwill.
This child’s memories.
The feeling of wanting to help someone.
“…U-uh…”
My sobs fell alone into the silence.
It was at that moment.
—Zz‚ zzzz… Zzzzzooooonnn!!
From the depths of the city‚ a colossal rumble rose‚ like the world itself screaming.
Cracks ran along building walls‚ window frames rattled.
(Huh… what…?
Is even the world crying…?
Stop… just for now…)
“…Nagisa! Come!”
At the entrance‚ Rin-chan shouted.
But my feet wouldn’t move.
My chest was heavy‚ my breaths shallow‚ my heart shaking more than the world.
Our “values”—
Made a sound of irreparable collapse along with the city.
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