Chapter 33: “Three People One Lung (One Shared Lung)”
“...Phaaa. Hey‚ Rin-chan. Don’t you think the air in this room has gone past ‘mint flavor’ and turned into a tasteless‚ odorless ‘despair flavor’...?”
I braced my misshapen plastic-bottle shoe on my right foot—“Nagisa Hover”—in the muddy water that had gotten a few centimeters deeper since yesterday‚ and leaned my back against the edge of the observation window.
Cold water slowly seeped up‚ soaking around my hips.
Beyond the window‚ the wreckage of the “Debugger” we had just driven off could be seen dissolving into the dark sea.
The afterglow of victory.
Normally there should be a “Quest Clear!” fanfare right about now‚ but the back of my throat wheezed like when a parfait straw gets clogged‚ and no matter how much I inhaled‚ oxygen wouldn’t reach my lungs.
Even the spare energy to crack my usual jokes felt like it would dissolve into this thin air.
“...Nagisa-san‚ that’s not your imagination.”
Haru-kun crouched like a detective‚ staring up at the ceiling while keeping open the “Day 2” notebook we had bound with wax yesterday.
In his hand he held a narrow strip torn from the edge of a “blank page that hadn’t been coated yet.”
He gently released it from his fingertips and dropped it beneath the ceiling ventilation fan.
The scrap of paper—
Before it could hit the floor‚ it sprang upward as if pulled by an invisible thread.
“...Yes. That’s the ‘measured value.’”
Haru-kun spoke in short sentences with a voice drained of emotion.
“The suction speed of the paper scrap doesn’t match the negative pressure estimated from the second hand of the clock. It also doesn’t correlate with the carbon dioxide concentration that should be rising from our breathing.”
“The air in this room is being physically ‘dragged out’ by some other force.”
“Dragged out…!? Haru-kun‚ does that mean it’s about as bad as when my excitement index triples?”
“...It’s bad in the exact opposite sense. We are currently being forcibly ‘deleted.’”
“...You mean it’s being stolen?”
Rin-chan stood up while gripping her tool bag.
On her bare white shoulder—her waterproof jacket had no sleeves—the “red rope marks” from when she hoisted our combined 140 kilograms yesterday had swollen red like eerie warning lights.
“The periodic magnetic anomalies are a ‘pre-sign (load)’ that occurs when the system rewrites a structure. The negative pressure and the internal air pressure disturbances are merely ‘side effects’ of that rewriting.”
Rin-chan’s eyes glowed sharply with the light of a hacker as she glared at the ceiling.
“The world failed to crush us with the underwater window. So next‚ it rewrote this building itself into the system’s ‘lung’ and came to suffocate us.”
“The building… is breathing...”
Holding my paralyzed left arm (marshmallow state) with my right hand‚ I looked up at the ceiling.
The blades of the old manual ventilation fan up there were slowly—but unmistakably—spinning in reverse despite the absence of wind.
My head spun.
It felt like invisible hands were slowly tightening around my throat. Dizzy from sudden lightheadedness‚ my body swayed.
“Hyah...!”
The one who caught me as I nearly fell was Rin-chan’s hot hand.
Her exposed shoulder pressed strongly against my chest. The residual heat in her muscles from hauling our weight burned almost painfully hot in the thin air.
“...Don’t talk‚ Nagisa. Minimize oxygen consumption. Don’t raise your heart rate.”
“I-I know‚ but... Rin-chan’s heat is making my heart-rate monitor malfunction...”
In my oxygen-starved haze‚ the smell of Rin-chan’s sweat and the red marks biting into her shoulder burned vividly into my retinas.
The world was trying to make us “not exist.”
But the heat of her skin and the painfully synchronized rhythm of our breathing proved more strongly than anything that we still existed here as “one entity.”
“...Haru. Keep calculating. Identify where the system’s ‘gap (bug)’ is. ...Nagisa. We’ll need the spring in that right foot of yours (the hover).”
“Roger... Leader... My hover feels like it could jump about three floors right now... probably...”
Our Day 2.
The real battle was about to begin with an invisible “struggle for air.”
“...Haa... haa. Hey Rin-chan. That ‘reverse-spinning guy’ on the ceiling—working all the way up there means our hands can’t reach him...”
The ceiling of the oxygen-thin observation room was over three meters high.
A convenient item like a stepladder had sunk to the first floor along with the muddy water.
My lungs wheezed pitifully like they were announcing a “closing sale” on oxygen.
“...Then we’ll just have to build one. Haru‚ remove the shelves from that steel rack. Nagisa‚ you’ll be the vertical support pillar (anchor).”
Rin-chan stood in front of me‚ straightening the collar of her sleeveless jacket.
The “red rope marks” carved into her bare shoulders stood out even darker with the flush of oxygen deprivation.
“Me as a pillar? Wait—does that mean I become the shelf and Rin-chan stands on top of me!?”
“...There’s no time to decorate you. Shoulder ride. Haru will place the shelf board horizontally across your shoulders and we’ll use it as footing. If the load concentrates at one point‚ your collarbone will shatter.”
Rin-chan’s words carried a cold calculation—but one meant to keep me from breaking.
“Nagisa‚ with the elasticity of that right foot (hover)‚ you should be able to wedge yourself between the concrete and the ceiling.”
“...Rin-san‚ please wait. Nagisa-san’s right leg is currently under hemostasis. Vertical loading has a 68% probability of causing capillary rupture.”
Still holding the notebook‚ Haru-kun threw statistical despair at us in short sentences.
But I slammed my plastic-bottle shoe against the floor with a clumsy “mugyu.”
“It’s fine‚ Haru-kun! My hover’s rebound power alone is on the level of ‘a wall pushing back the water pressure at 1000 meters deep’!
Rin-chan‚ hurry! Before my lungs are completely empty!”
Leaning my back against the reception counter‚ clutching my immobile left arm (marshmallow state) with my right hand‚ I moved into position to support the cold iron shelf board laid across both my shoulders.
Me‚ the shelf board‚ and Rin-chan.
A clumsy structure assembled like a sandwich.
“...Here I go. Nagisa‚ don’t snap.”
The moment Rin-chan stepped onto the shelf board on my shoulders—
The plastic-bottle unit on my right foot creaked “giri...” and a crimson bolt of pain shot through my thigh where the AC adapter was biting in.
“...gh... fuguu...!”
“Nagisa!?”
“I-it’s fine...!
That was just the sound of my ‘motivation switch’ turning on...!
Right now I’m a hero holding back a dam’s flood all by myself...!”
At that moment—
Haru-kun placed warm hands on both sides of my waist.
While protecting his fractured right leg‚ he held down the edge of the shelf board with one hand and desperately steadied the sway of my body with the other.
“...Nagisa-san‚ minimize movement. The stress distribution of the shelf board is uneven.”
Haru-kun’s trembling voice reached me through my back.
“At this rate‚ the board will ‘buckle’ under Rin-san’s load. I will... stabilize it.”
“Haru-kun... thank you...!
Right now I can endure shaking about as much as a ‘trembling pudding’...!”
Through my oxygen-starved haze‚ Rin-chan’s thigh brushed near my ear‚ and the heat rising from her exposed shoulder scorched my face.
The tremor in Haru-kun’s hands supporting my waist traveled up my spine.
The warmth and trembling of the three of us gathered into a single pillar.
“...Haru! Isn’t the fan’s rotation cycle off!?”
“It’s stable. But the shelf board deformation is increasing. Three seconds until load limit—!”
I realized it.
Right now‚ we truly were “one pillar.”
I was the base.
Haru-kun was the “reinforcement” suppressing lateral sway.
Rin-chan was the “tool” at the top prying open the world.
The three of us had become a single structure.
Rin-chan’s hot hand lightly pressed my head to keep her balance.
At that moment‚ the red rope mark on her shoulder burned proudly—and cruelly—right before my eyes.
“...k—...the magnetic field... is too strong...!”
On my shoulders‚ Rin-chan groaned in pain.
Her precision screwdriver rattled “kach‚ kach” as if repelled by an invisible force.
The magnetic scan emitted from the western “black wall” intentionally magnetized the fatigued metal screws of the old ventilation fan‚ rejecting our hands.
“Rin-chan‚ hang in there!
My shoulders can handle vibrations like an old submarine creaking under water pressure!”
Driving my right-foot “Nagisa Hover” into the floor‚ I held my ground desperately.
From my thigh where the AC adapter tourniquet dug in‚ I could almost hear the cells crying “we want to go home...‚” but I ignored it.
Right now I was the human pillar supporting Rin-chan.
“...It’s impossible. The screw heads are magnetized and the bit won’t engage.
This building itself is trying to rewrite the ‘rules’ called physical laws...!”
“...Rin-san‚ don’t force it. The probability of stripping the screw head is 92%.
The system’s ‘update cycle’ is accelerating.”
Below us‚ Haru-kun’s voice sounded low from oxygen deprivation as he spread the notebook.
The analysis log of “Day 2” recorded the “delete waveform” of the air.
“Hey Rin-chan. Maybe that fan... realized it’s the ‘lung’ and is hiding its face because it’s embarrassed?”
“...Nagisa. I don’t have the spare oxygen to analyze emotional errors like that... haa... haa...”
Rin-chan’s breathing was rough.
Sweat falling from her bare shoulder touched my cheek hotly.
There wasn’t enough oxygen.
At this rate our brains would “force quit” before we fixed anything.
“Then I’ll find the face it’s hiding!
Haru-kun‚ tear one ‘all-you-can-refill’ page from that bookshelf!”
“...Refill...? Ah‚ understood. You’re visualizing the ‘flow’ of air.”
Haru-kun tore a bright page from an encyclopedia that hadn’t sunk into the muddy water.
I took it with my right hand‚ bit the edge with my teeth‚ and turned it into a narrow strip.
“Alright‚ here we go...
Nagisa-style special ‘lie-detecting pinwheel‚’ freshly made!”
Using my immobile left arm (marshmallow state) as a support‚ I folded the paper with my right hand and used the graphite of Haru-kun’s pencil as an axle to build an improvised pinwheel.
The moment I did—
The pencil core cried “mishi...”
The paper blades spun at abnormal speed‚ their edges turning slightly brown from friction heat.
That was how greedily the building’s “lung” was sucking in our oxygen.
“...Nagisa‚ what are you planning?”
“Rin-chan‚ look up!
I’m going to ask this little guy what the building’s ‘breathing’ really is!”
The moment I raised the pinwheel toward the ceiling—
It began spinning at a bizarre speed with a “hyun!” even though there was no wind indoors.
But the rotation wasn’t constant.
Clockwise → sudden stop → reverse → micro-vibration → reverse again.
As if the world had “forgotten how to breathe.”
“Look‚ Rin-chan! The pinwheel’s panicking!
The building is repeating ‘inhale’ and ‘exhale’ multiple times per second!”
“...Periodic pulsation...!?
This isn’t ventilation... this is system ‘synchronization (sync)’!”
Rin-chan’s eyes flashed sharply.
My clumsy paper pinwheel had exposed the invisible “hacking of the world.”
“...Haru! Can you calculate the system’s ‘refresh rate’ from that motion!?”
“...I can. I reverse-calculated the pinwheel’s stop interval using my pulse as the reference. ...I see the cycle.”
I could see Haru-kun’s chest rising and falling as his pulse accelerated.
Using that heartbeat as a “second hand‚” he was deciphering the world’s lie.
“There is a 0.03-second gap between these vibrations. A blind spot in the magnetic scan.”
“Rin-san‚ the moment the pinwheel tilts left... that is when the negative pressure reverses.”
“For only that 0.03 seconds‚ the screw’s magnetization is neutralized!”
Haru-kun’s pen ran across the notebook like sparks.
Instinct and statistics perfectly captured the gap called the system’s “bug.”
“...Understood. Nagisa‚ keep supporting me.
For one instant‚ I’ll put my entire ‘mass’ on you.”
Rin-chan’s knee sank deeply into the shelf board on my shoulders.
The red rope mark on her exposed shoulder pulsed as if certain of victory.
“...0.03 seconds. Now!”
Haru-kun’s shout pierced my oxygen-clouded brain.
At that moment‚ on the shelf board above my shoulders—
Rin-chan’s slender fingers slid toward the screw at lightning speed.
The blind spot of the magnetic scan.
The brief instant when the world’s “attention” drifted away.
The precision screwdriver fit perfectly into the groove of the screw freed from magnetization.
“...Got it. Accept the ‘exception clause’ of physical law.”
Rin-chan’s low voice sounded like the voice of a king declaring that the “rules of the world” that once cornered us would now be ruled by us instead.
Click‚ click‚ click!
Regular metallic sounds released the old cover of the ventilation fan one by one.
I drove my right-foot “Nagisa Hover” into the floor and endured the intense pain in my thigh where the AC adapter dug in‚ turning it into gasoline for counterattack.
“That’s amazing‚ Rin-chan!
It’s like the coolest parfait craftsman in the world is opening the lid of the future on top of my shoulders!”
“...Being compared to a parfait craftsman is insulting... but opening the lid is accurate.
Nagisa‚ we’re not going to ‘repair’ this fan. We’re going to ‘overwrite (hack)’ its structure.”
Rin-chan rummaged through her tool bag and took out a spare rubber gasket‚ a clip wire‚ and a fragment of wax.
Then—
From above‚ she reached down and plucked that “mirror fragment” from my chest pocket.
“Rin-chan... you’re going to use that...?”
“I will. It’s hard.
I’ll use it as an ‘angle-lock’ wedge so the valve won’t collapse under negative pressure.”
The mirror fragment was inserted like a thin spacer at the base of the improvised valve shaft reinforced with gasket and wire‚ functioning like a “rib” fixing the angle.
Then Rin-chan took out the “old lighter” from the bottom of her tool bag—the one she used when fixing the compass before.
“...There’s still flame left.”
Click—
A small flame flickered in the dim observation room.
Rin-chan held the wax fragment over the flame and quickly spread the melted wax with her fingertips into the joint between the mirror shard and gasket.
“Finger friction heat isn’t enough to melt it. So I’ll use fire.
This will relieve stress concentration. Nagisa‚ the ‘mirror’ you picked up will live here.”
“...It will hold. The valve’s ‘restoring force’ is also secured. A perfect check valve.”
Haru-kun raised the notebook and spoke briefly‚ full of certainty.
“That’s right. If this building acts as a ‘lung’ and sucks air out to create negative pressure indoors—
We’ll exploit that force in reverse and forcibly ‘backflow’ fresh air from outside.”
“Nagisa‚ final step. Use your left arm (marshmallow) to hold my thigh.”
“Eeh!?
In this situation‚ it’s okay for me to hug Rin-chan’s thigh right next to my face!?
My heart rate will overheat and I’ll burn all the oxygen instead!”
“...Just do it. Your ‘body weight’ will act as ballast so the reverse flow doesn’t blow the board away.
Haru‚ final count on the magnetic cycle!”
“Three‚ two‚ one... sync complete!
The system is resuming ‘inhalation’!”
I lifted my immobile left arm with my right hand and forcibly wrapped it around Rin-chan’s thigh as she braced on the shoulder board.
The heat transmitted from her bare skin.
The red rope mark on her exposed shoulder pulsed before my eyes like a living thing.
—GOOOOOOOOO!!
A tremendous suction roared from deep within the ventilation fan.
At the same time—
The muddy water on the floor nearly surged upward like an upside-down waterfall‚ and old books behind us floated from the shelves and fluttered violently.
The entire space was on the verge of being swallowed by a gigantic lung.
“Gooooooo!!
My weight is the password that makes the world bug out!!”
I gathered all my strength and pushed Rin-chan’s legs toward the ceiling.
At that moment—
The “check valve” Rin-chan had built exploited the system’s suction force and snapped like a spring‚ dragging outside air violently into the room.
The muddy water slammed back to the floor‚ books dropped back onto shelves‚ and the world’s “inhalation” screamed and stopped.
“...Obey the ‘rules’ called physical law. —Hacking (repair)‚ successful.”
Rin-chan’s sweat-soaked profile shone triumphantly in the dim observation room.
Tears and sweat fell from me onto her exposed white shoulder‚
and in that moment the “breathing” of the three of us overlapped into one.
“...Haa...! It’s here‚ it’s here...!
That ‘despair flavor’ from before feels like a lie! Not just mint—this is the finest ‘alive flavor’ air flowing into my lungs with unlimited refills!!”
Still supporting the shelf board on my shoulders‚ I looked up at the ceiling fan and inhaled deeply.
Shugoooo...
Not the suffocating sound like the building’s sigh from before.
The check valve Rin-chan made was exploiting the system’s suction (negative pressure) to forcibly drag fresh outside air in—
the sound of absolute victory.
“Heart rate descending to normal range. Oxygen concentration stable at 20.9%. ...Delete protocol overwrite complete.”
Haru-kun reported in short sentences.
He sat down on the wreckage of the overturned reception counter‚ spreading the notebook on his knees atop a small “island” avoiding the muddy water.
“...Nagisa. That’s enough. Remove the support. My muscles are about to pass the critical point.”
Rin-chan slowly bent her knees on the shelf board on my shoulders.
As she crouched‚ her forehead gently tapped against the top of my head.
The heat from her exposed shoulder wasn’t the heat of battle—
it was the slightly fragile‚ yet unmistakably “alive” body warmth after finishing something.
I loosened the spring of the “Nagisa Hover‚” crouched slowly with the shelf board‚ and lowered Rin-chan to the ground.
When we both collapsed at the same time‚ the mud-soaked carpet made a “guchari” sound.
But now even that unpleasant noise felt as comfortable as the cushion of a luxury sofa.
“Rin-chan... thanks.
Your hair that we made fluffy with baking soda just turned into the ‘sashimi course’ again from sweat...”
“...Don’t worry about it. I’ll just fix it again. ...More importantly‚ Haru. Show it.”
Prompted‚ Haru-kun turned the waterproof “Day 2” notebook toward us.
There‚ in strong strokes‚ were recorded the “lie of the air (system cycle)” exposed by my pinwheel and the blueprint of Rin-chan’s check valve.
And at the bottom of the page—
“Day 2: Repair of breathing.
The world tried to delete our oxygen‚ but we hacked that malice.
The lung of our single entity (team) is now perfectly synchronized.”
“Ahaha! Haru-kun‚ full marks!
Our history just painted over another bug in the world!”
I laughed while holding my immobile left arm.
The vision that had turned white from oxygen deprivation was repaired vividly by fresh air and Rin-chan’s intense gaze.
—But that relief didn’t last long.
“...Nagisa‚ look outside the window.”
At Rin-chan’s voice‚ I turned to the observation window.
The dark sea.
The water where the remains of the defense program we defeated drifted—
had somehow risen to nearly the same height as the edge of the observation floor.
“...No way. We ran up the stairs to escape...
and the water came chasing us like ‘yahoo’...”
Haru-kun closed the notebook and said quietly like a detective.
“...It’s the backlash from hacking the system’s lung (the building).
The external ‘initialization (format)’ is accelerating.
The more breathing we regained‚ the more the world is advancing physical ‘deletion’ through other means.”
Rin-chan stood and slung the towing rope back over her sleeveless shoulder.
There wasn’t a millimeter of despair in her eyes anymore.
“...Next‚ we make a path.
A ‘ship’ to leave this library (sanctuary) and reach Momiji.”
Our Day 2 wasn’t over yet.
But now we had synchronized breathing.
With one lung shared by three people‚
we would go deeper and farther through the sinking world.
Chapter 33 Complete
|