THE COLDEST DEMON GOD
An Unwanted Hero's Ascension
Volume 1 — Summoning & Rejection
Chapter 4 — The Last Normal Day
The alarm never rang.
Renjiro Kurogane opened his eyes at 5:21 a.m.
For several seconds, he remained beneath the blanket and listened. Nothing. No electronic buzz. No warning tone from the monitoring equipment. No phone screen illuminating by itself. No unexplained flicker passing through the room.
Only the distant murmur of Tokyo beginning another morning.
Renjiro reached for his phone. 5:21. Normal.
He sat up and looked toward the desk. Three electromagnetic sensors remained active, their indicator lights steady in the darkness. The radio receiver sat beside them, along with the voltage monitor and two independent clock modules he had added the previous evening.
Everything had continued recording through the night.
Renjiro crossed the cold floor and woke the laptop. The monitoring dashboard appeared.
SENSOR A — NORMAL
SENSOR B — NORMAL
SENSOR C — NORMAL
RADIO RECEIVER — NORMAL
VOLTAGE — STABLE
No significant events after midnight. No unexplained spikes. No electrical disturbances. Nothing.
He checked the independent clocks. Both remained eight seconds behind the correct time. Exactly eight.
They had not recovered the interval lost during last night's event. They simply continued counting from the moment they had resumed, permanently separated from synchronized network time by the same missing duration.
Renjiro opened the folder on his desktop.
ANOMALY
Six event directories waited inside.
Three days ago, none of them had existed. Now he had synchronized electromagnetic spikes, interruptions across unrelated electronic devices, local power failures that did not correspond with measured voltage loss, reports from several locations, and physical clocks that had somehow failed to count the same eight seconds while remaining powered.
He opened his notebook. The final two lines from last night remained on the page.
The phenomenon is real. Cause unknown.
Do not assume mechanism.
Renjiro read them once, then closed the notebook.
Nothing new had happened overnight. Staring at yesterday's data for another hour would not manufacture evidence that did not exist.
He picked up his towel.
Routine first.
✦ ✦ ✦
TAK!
The bokken stopped at head height.
Renjiro held the position for a moment, weight distributed through the balls of his feet, shoulders relaxed, wrists aligned. Then he withdrew.
Step. Turn. Strike.
TAK!
Recovery. Again.
The dojo was nearly empty at this hour. One elderly man practiced slowly near the far wall, too absorbed in his own movements to pay attention to Renjiro. Beyond that, there was only the wooden floor, the faint scent of old timber, and morning light beginning to touch the windows.
Exactly how Renjiro preferred it.
He adjusted his grip and moved again. The bokken crossed horizontally, stopped, redirected, then descended through a second line without unnecessary motion.
His right wrist arrived slightly late.
Reset.
Again.
TAK!
Better.
Another sequence followed—advance, diagonal cut, controlled withdrawal, turn.
TAK!
Correct.
Renjiro lowered the weapon.
Nothing about his morning had changed simply because something inexplicable had happened during the night. The anomaly existed. He had evidence of that now.
It did not require his attention every second of the day. Ignoring the rest of his life would not make him understand it faster.
For twenty-seven minutes, Renjiro trained without thinking about the missing eight seconds once.
When he finally returned the bokken to the rack, his breathing was deeper but steady. He checked the clock.
Still moving.
Good.
✦ ✦ ✦
Class 3-B was louder than usual.
Renjiro understood why before reaching his desk.
Clocks.
Almost everyone seemed to be talking about clocks.
"My kitchen clock is seven seconds slow."
"Wasn't it already slow?"
"How would I know?"
"Then how do you know this is related?"
"Because everyone else's is weird too!"
"My microwave says something different from my phone."
"Microwave clocks are always wrong."
"Mine wasn't yesterday!"
Renjiro moved through the conversations toward his usual seat.
Near the center of the classroom, Okada Junpei was holding something above his head.
Renjiro stopped.
A white wall clock.
A full-sized white wall clock.
Junpei had brought it from home.
Kurosawa Mika stood beside him with the expression of someone reconsidering every decision that had led to their friendship.
"You carried that on the train?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Evidence."
"Of what?"
Junpei pointed dramatically at the clock.
"Eight seconds."
Mika stared at him.
"That explained absolutely nothing."
"It lost eight seconds last night."
"You've lost more than that from your brain."
"Personal attack."
"Accurate observation."
Several nearby students laughed.
Junpei finally noticed Renjiro.
"Kurogane!"
Renjiro continued walking.
"Oi!"
Junpei followed him to the window-side desk.
Renjiro placed his bag down.
Junpei placed the wall clock directly on top of it.
Renjiro looked at the clock. Then Junpei.
"Remove it."
"Check it first."
"I believe you."
Junpei froze.
"You do?"
"Yes."
"That was easier than expected."
"Remove it."
"Wait."
Junpei pulled out his phone and placed it beside the clock. The difference was obvious.
Phone time.
Wall-clock time.
Eight seconds.
Exactly.
Junpei pointed between them.
"See?"
"Yes."
"So?"
Renjiro opened his bag.
Junpei waited. Nothing else happened.
"Kurogane."
"What?"
"That's all?"
"What else?"
"I don't know. A theory?"
"No."
"You built sensors."
"Yes."
"You've been writing down everything."
"Yes."
"And you still don't know what's happening?"
"I have data."
"That's not the same thing."
"Correct."
Junpei stared at him. His face slowly took on the expression of someone realizing that he had somehow argued himself into Renjiro's position.
Mika walked past.
"Give up."
Junpei pointed at Renjiro.
"He knows something."
"No."
"You definitely know something."
"No."
"You're suspiciously calm."
"That isn't evidence."
Mika laughed.
Junpei looked personally betrayed.
Then another voice came from beside Renjiro.
"Mine too."
He raised his eyes.
Shirakawa Reina stood near the desk.
"Eight seconds?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Still eight?"
"Yes."
"Did you adjust it?"
"No."
"Same battery?"
"Yes."
Renjiro nodded.
Junpei looked between them.
"See? Shirakawa-san gets the serious questions."
"She answers them."
"I answer questions."
"Eventually."
Junpei placed a hand over his chest.
"That was cruel."
"It was accurate."
Reina glanced at Junpei's clock.
"Three."
Junpei frowned.
"Three what?"
"Clocks. Yours, mine, Kurogane-kun's."
"Four," Renjiro corrected.
Reina turned toward him.
"School?"
"Staff room."
"Sensei mentioned it yesterday."
Junpei slowly looked between the two of them.
"Four clocks in different places all lost eight seconds."
"At least four," Renjiro said.
Junpei's expression became serious.
For approximately two seconds.
Then—
"Time ghost."
"No."
"You cannot keep rejecting the ghost theory."
"I can until you provide evidence."
"The lost time is evidence."
"Of lost time."
Junpei opened his mouth.
Renjiro continued.
"Not ghosts."
Mika laughed from two desks away.
Junpei pointed at him.
"You used to be easier when you didn't talk."
"I barely spoke to you."
"Exactly."
"Try doing the same."
Junpei stood in silence.
A dangerous amount of satisfaction appeared on Mika's face.
Junpei picked up his clock.
"I hate this friendship."
Renjiro opened his book.
"You decided it was one."
Junpei stopped, then looked back.
"...I'm counting that as progress."
"It wasn't."
"Too late."
He returned to his own desk.
Reina remained. Her gaze shifted from the disappearing wall clock to Renjiro.
"You really don't think this is strange?"
"I do."
"You don't look like you do."
Renjiro turned a page.
"What should I look like?"
Reina considered the question.
"I don't know."
"Then this is fine."
A small smile touched the corner of her mouth.
"Morning, Kurogane-kun."
"Morning, Shirakawa-san."
She returned to her seat.
Renjiro continued reading.
Outside the windows, Tokyo looked completely ordinary.
✦ ✦ ✦
Shizuka entered Class 3-B at 8:16.
The room gradually settled.
Mostly.
Junpei's wall clock was now hanging from the side of his desk.
Shizuka saw it immediately.
She stopped walking.
"Okada-kun."
"Yes, Sensei?"
"Why is there a clock hanging from your desk?"
"Research."
"No."
Junpei blinked.
"I haven't explained it yet."
"You brought household furniture to school. I don't need the rest."
"It's not furniture."
"Put it in your bag."
"But—"
"Now."
Junpei reluctantly obeyed.
Mika watched with open satisfaction.
Shizuka placed her files on the teacher's desk.
"Before attendance, there's something we need to discuss."
The remaining conversations faded.
"The school has received more reports regarding yesterday's electrical disturbances. Maintenance inspected the building again this morning. They haven't found anything immediately dangerous."
Renjiro's attention sharpened.
Immediately.
Good wording.
It separated what had been confirmed from what had not.
Shizuka continued.
"However, several electronic clocks and battery-powered clocks appear to be slightly inaccurate after last night's incident."
Junpei's hand rose.
"Eight seconds."
Shizuka stared at him.
"You were told to put the clock away."
"It is away."
"Then why are you still involved?"
"Emotionally."
Mika covered her mouth.
Shizuka closed her eyes for a second.
"Yes. Approximately eight seconds."
The humor disappeared from the classroom almost immediately.
A student near the rear raised his hand.
"Sensei, how can clocks in different houses lose the same amount of time?"
"I don't know."
"Did the power company say anything?"
"No major outage was recorded."
Another student spoke.
"Could it be some network synchronization problem?"
"Battery clocks aren't connected to a network," Sakurai Nanami said from her seat.
The student scratched the side of his face.
"Right."
Junpei raised his hand again.
Shizuka looked at him.
"What?"
"Now can we discuss ghosts?"
"No."
"But electricity isn't explaining it. Internet isn't explaining it."
"We have eliminated nothing, Okada-kun."
Renjiro glanced toward her.
Correct.
They had failed to confirm several explanations. That was not the same as disproving them.
Shizuka looked across the class.
"Don't turn this into rumors. Don't spread nonsense online just because something strange happened. If you experience anything unusual, report it to a teacher or your parents. Otherwise, continue normally unless the school tells you differently."
Her eyes paused briefly near Renjiro.
He gave no reaction.
Shizuka opened the attendance sheet.
"Kurosawa Mika."
"Present."
"Okada Junpei."
"Present."
Junpei sounded unusually obedient.
Shizuka continued.
"Kurogane Renjiro-kun."
"Present."
His name was marked.
The day began.
✦ ✦ ✦
Nothing happened.
First period passed without interruption.
Then second.
The lights remained steady. Projectors behaved normally. No phones shut down. No clocks stopped.
Break came and went.
Still nothing.
Third period remained equally uneventful.
By lunchtime, the lack of disturbance had become noticeable precisely because half of Class 3-B had spent the morning expecting another one.
Junpei sat on the edge of Daichi's desk.
"Maybe it's over."
Mika opened her drink.
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm not disappointed."
"You are."
"I'm relieved."
"You brought a wall clock to school."
"For closure."
"That's the stupidest thing you've said today."
Junpei considered it.
"Today is still young."
Renjiro stood and picked up his lunchbox.
Junpei noticed immediately.
"Kurogane."
"No."
"You don't know what I'm going to say."
"You're looking at my lunch."
Junpei glanced toward the box. Then back at him.
"That proves nothing."
Renjiro headed for the door.
Footsteps followed.
He stopped.
The footsteps stopped.
Renjiro looked over his shoulder.
"Why?"
"Lunch."
"Yours is on your desk."
Junpei looked back.
His convenience-store bag remained exactly where he had left it.
He returned, collected it, then jogged back.
Renjiro waited.
Junpei reached him.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"That look said something."
"You forgot the only object required for what you're doing."
Junpei considered the criticism.
"Temporary logistical failure."
"Careless."
"Can you stop being accurate in ways that hurt?"
"No."
Renjiro resumed walking.
Junpei followed.
A few seconds later, another pair of footsteps came from behind.
Renjiro did not need to turn.
Reina caught up carrying bread and a carton of juice.
No explanation.
He did not ask.
The three reached the upper stairwell.
Renjiro took his usual step. Junpei sat several steps below him, while Reina settled near the broad window before eventually taking a place two steps down from Renjiro.
Silence followed.
Thirty seconds.
Then a minute.
Junpei shifted.
Another thirty seconds.
"I don't understand how you two do this."
Renjiro opened his lunchbox.
"Do what?"
"Sit here without talking."
Reina opened her drink.
"It's peaceful."
Junpei stared at her.
"Both of you are terrifying."
"Then leave," Renjiro said.
"No."
"Then accept it."
Junpei unwrapped his sandwich.
For another minute, he tried.
Reina glanced at Renjiro's lunch.
"Salmon?"
"Yes."
"You cooked it this morning?"
"Yes."
Junpei looked down at his sandwich. Then at the salmon.
Renjiro noticed.
"Kurogane."
"No."
Junpei frowned.
"I didn't ask anything."
"You were about to."
"How do you know?"
"You've been staring at the same piece for fifteen seconds."
Reina looked away, hiding a smile behind her juice carton.
Junpei pointed at Renjiro's lunch.
"I was appreciating the craftsmanship."
"No."
"Maybe I was."
"You weren't."
"Can I have—"
"No."
Junpei lowered his hand.
"Fine."
Renjiro continued eating.
A few seconds later, Reina's shoulders moved with a quiet laugh.
Junpei looked at her.
"You encouraged him."
"I didn't say anything."
"Exactly. Silent support."
Reina shook her head.
Renjiro ate.
Conversation faded again.
This time Junpei lasted longer.
Several minutes passed with nothing happening.
No flickering lights. No stopped clocks. No unexplained electromagnetic event.
Just the smell of food, afternoon sunlight through the stairwell window, the distant sound of students outside, and three classmates sitting in a place none of them would have considered important a week earlier.
Renjiro preferred it that way.
Ordinary required less explanation.
✦ ✦ ✦
The afternoon remained uneventful.
Physical education.
History.
English.
No disturbance.
At 3:41 p.m., Renjiro checked his phone beneath the desk.
The remote monitoring program reported all sensors normal.
Stable.
Perhaps the previous events had stopped.
Possible.
Perhaps the phenomenon was intermittent.
More likely.
Perhaps—
Renjiro stopped the thought.
Nothing useful came from guessing ahead of evidence.
He locked the phone.
The final lesson began.
Career guidance.
Again.
Shizuka stood at the front of Class 3-B holding a stack of forms.
"Some of you still haven't completed these."
Renjiro looked down at his own.
University
Employment
Technical School
Other
Most of the page remained blank.
Shizuka walked between the rows.
She stopped beside Junpei.
Junpei immediately covered his form.
Shizuka looked down at him.
"Okada-kun."
"Yes?"
"You wrote 'professional gamer.'"
Junpei looked completely serious.
"It is a career."
"Do you currently earn money from gaming?"
"Not currently."
"Then write a second option."
"Streamer?"
Mika laughed from the neighboring row.
Shizuka sighed.
"A realistic backup plan."
Junpei looked wounded.
"You don't believe in my dream."
"I believe in backup plans."
"That's less inspiring."
"It's more useful."
She continued walking.
Renjiro lowered his attention to his own form.
Still blank.
He already knew Shizuka would stop.
She did.
"Kurogane-kun."
"I know."
"Next week became this week."
"I know."
"And your form is still almost empty."
"Yes."
Shizuka stared down at him.
Renjiro waited.
She exhaled.
"At least write something before you leave today."
"I'll think about it."
"You said that last time."
"I did think about it."
"And?"
"No conclusion."
Several students nearby laughed quietly.
Shizuka rubbed her temple.
Then lowered her voice.
"Cooking?"
Renjiro paused.
The staff-room conversation returned to him.
What do you actually enjoy?
Cooking had been the first answer he had given.
"Maybe."
Shizuka's expression softened slightly.
"That's already better than nothing."
She walked on.
Renjiro looked at the form.
Cooking. Programming. Engineering. University. Employment.
Any of them were possible.
That was part of the problem.
He could imagine himself doing all of them. None felt necessary.
Renjiro rested the tip of his mechanical pencil against the page.
Perhaps writing one option would at least stop Shizuka from asking.
The classroom clock stopped.
Renjiro's pencil stopped with it.
3:56:17 p.m.
The second hand remained motionless.
He raised his eyes.
Nobody reacted.
Not yet.
Shizuka continued speaking near the front. A chair scraped against the floor. Someone whispered to the student beside them.
Life continued normally beneath a clock that no longer did.
Renjiro reached beneath the desk and took out his phone.
15:56:17
He waited.
The seconds did not change.
His attention sharpened.
"Kurogane-kun."
Reina.
He looked across the classroom.
Her phone rested in her hand.
Same frozen time.
Their eyes met.
Junpei noticed both of them.
His smile disappeared.
"What?"
Renjiro did not answer immediately.
He listened.
Pens still moved. Students breathed. Shizuka spoke. The air conditioner continued running.
People had not stopped.
Only measured time had.
Different from last night.
Renjiro stood.
Shizuka stopped speaking.
"Kurogane-kun?"
"Sensei."
A faint vibration passed through the soles of his shoes.
Weak enough that he might have dismissed it under different circumstances.
Renjiro looked down.
"What is it?" Shizuka asked.
The vibration came again.
Stronger.
Several desks rattled softly.
Students noticed.
"Earthquake?"
"Did you feel that?"
"Sensei?"
Chairs shifted.
Renjiro turned toward the windows.
Tokyo remained visible beyond the glass.
Buildings did not sway. Power lines remained still. Traffic continued.
No visible movement consistent with an earthquake.
The vibration came again.
Localized.
Or at least much stronger here.
Junpei stood.
"Kurogane."
"I know."
"What do you know?"
"Nothing useful yet."
Shizuka looked between them.
"What is happening?"
Renjiro opened his mouth.
His phone screen flashed white.
Every phone in Class 3-B emitted the same sound.
BEEP.
Students recoiled.
"What the—"
"My phone!"
"Mine too!"
"What happened?"
Renjiro looked down.
White filled the entire display.
No application interface. No notification. No logo.
Just light.
Then black.
The phone died.
Around the classroom, the same thing happened. One after another, students pressed their power buttons.
Nothing responded.
Reina stood.
"This is different."
"Yes."
The fluorescent lights dimmed.
Returned.
Dimmed again.
A low sound entered the classroom.
At first Renjiro mistook it for electrical noise.
Then it deepened.
Not from the ceiling. Not from the projector. Not from any single direction.
A hum.
Low enough that he felt part of it through the floor before fully hearing it.
Shizuka moved immediately.
"Everyone stay calm. Nobody leave on your own."
Renjiro stepped toward the classroom door.
"Kurogane-kun?"
He reached for the handle.
Turned it.
The latch moved.
He pulled.
The door did not open.
Renjiro tried again.
Nothing.
Not locked.
The mechanism worked.
The door simply refused to move.
Shizuka came beside him.
"Let me."
Renjiro stepped aside.
She turned the handle herself and pulled harder.
No movement.
Shizuka's expression changed.
"Kenta-kun, don't."
Renjiro's voice crossed the room.
Fujimoto Kenta stopped halfway toward the windows.
He looked back.
"I was just checking outside."
"Stay away from the glass."
"Why?"
"I don't know what happens next."
Kenta froze.
There was no dramatic tone in Renjiro's answer.
That made it more effective.
Shizuka immediately reinforced it.
"Everyone away from the windows. Move toward the center of the room."
Students began leaving their desks.
Renjiro remained near the door for another second.
Outside, Tokyo was still visible.
But something was wrong.
The colors had changed.
Subtle at first.
The red sign on the building across the street looked faded. The blue sky had lost saturation. Cars still moved below, but their colors appeared washed beneath a pale veil.
Renjiro stepped away from the window.
The hum deepened.
Someone began crying.
"Sensei…"
"It's alright."
Shizuka turned toward the class.
"Stay together. Nobody panic."
Her voice was controlled.
Her face was not quite as calm.
Renjiro noticed both.
A thin line of white appeared beneath his desk.
He stopped.
The line had not been there a second earlier.
It emerged through the floor without cracking the tile.
No heat. No smoke. No visible physical damage.
It curved.
Another line appeared beside it.
Then another.
Concentric structures spread outward beneath the desks, connecting at impossible precision. Smaller marks formed between them—symbols Renjiro did not recognize as Japanese, English, mathematical notation, circuit logic or any writing system he knew.
His mind searched memory anyway.
No match.
The pattern expanded.
"Kurogane-kun?"
Reina stood several meters away.
She had followed his gaze.
"What is that?"
"I don't know."
White lines continued forming beneath their shoes.
Junpei took a step backward.
"That answer is becoming really bad for my mental health."
"No better one available."
The floor vibrated again.
The pattern reached Junpei's desk.
Passed beneath its legs.
Nothing happened to the furniture.
The lines did not avoid obstacles.
They seemed to exist across the same surface without interacting with anything physical.
Renjiro moved two steps sideways.
The pattern continued expanding independently of him.
Not following.
Good to know.
Not useful enough.
Shizuka raised her voice.
"Everyone together. Now."
Students obeyed more quickly this time.
Daiki moved toward the center and began helping people away from the walls. Akari took Nanami's hand. Mika grabbed Junpei by the sleeve when he remained staring at the floor.
Renjiro checked the door again.
No change.
Windows.
Unsafe and no indication they would open.
Ceiling.
No access.
Ventilation.
Too small even if reachable.
No obvious exit.
"Kurogane."
Junpei was closer now.
The joking tone had disappeared completely.
"What do we do?"
Renjiro hated the question.
Not because Junpei had asked him.
Because there was no useful answer.
He looked once toward the spreading pattern.
Then at the windows.
Then the door.
"I don't know."
Junpei went quiet.
The words landed differently this time.
Over the past several days, Renjiro had said I don't know repeatedly because evidence had been incomplete.
Now the unknown was glowing beneath their feet.
Reina came closer.
"Any idea at all?"
"Nothing useful."
She nodded.
No argument.
The white lines reached the walls.
They climbed.
Not reflected light.
Actual lines.
Thin luminous structures moved vertically across painted concrete, spreading toward the ceiling as though the room itself had become another surface for the pattern.
Several students screamed.
Shizuka raised her voice over the growing hum.
"Everyone stay close! Kanzaki-kun, help me count!"
"Yes, Sensei!"
Daiki began checking rows.
Renjiro had already counted.
Thirty students.
Shizuka.
Everyone present.
No one missing.
For now.
"Kurogane-kun!"
Shizuka beckoned him.
"Come here."
Renjiro remained where he was for one second.
Distance gave him a wider view.
It offered no exit.
Isolation provided no advantage.
He joined the group.
Reina moved separately, ending up only a short distance from him.
Junpei stood beside Mika.
His face had become pale.
He looked at the glowing room.
Then at Renjiro.
"I officially withdraw the electrical-problem theory."
"Good."
Junpei stared.
"Now?"
"You were wrong."
"This is really the time?"
Renjiro did not answer.
Beside them, Reina made a sound that almost became a laugh.
Almost.
Then the windows disappeared.
No crack. No explosion. No broken glass.
Tokyo simply vanished behind white.
Several students screamed.
The classroom door followed.
Its shape remained for a moment, but every detail beneath the light faded—the handle, frame, paint, shadows.
Then the walls began losing color.
Desk edges blurred.
The blackboard faded toward grey.
Renjiro's hands looked pale beneath the growing glow.
Shizuka raised one arm over her eyes.
"Everyone stay calm!"
Her voice barely reached him.
The hum had become enormous.
It vibrated through his chest.
Renjiro looked down.
The individual lines beneath his shoes were gone.
The entire pattern had become solid white.
His feet still touched the floor.
For now.
Reina said something.
Renjiro turned toward her.
"What?"
Her mouth moved again.
He heard nothing.
The hum swallowed every other sound.
Then—
even the hum disappeared.
Absolute silence.
Renjiro's eyes sharpened.
Junpei shouted.
Nothing.
Mika's mouth moved.
Nothing.
Shizuka continued giving instructions to students who could no longer hear her.
Renjiro lifted one hand.
Moved his fingers.
Normal.
Vision intact.
Motor response intact.
Breathing—
He could feel it.
Could not hear it.
Then his balance shifted.
The floor had not visibly moved.
His body no longer trusted that it existed.
A sensation of falling tore through his stomach without any actual downward motion.
Several students collapsed to their knees.
Others grabbed desks.
Renjiro widened his stance instinctively.
It made no difference.
Reina reached for the nearest desk.
Junpei caught Mika's arm before she fell.
Shizuka braced herself against one table while holding Akari upright with her other hand.
The white light intensified.
Renjiro looked around one final time.
Classroom. Teacher. Classmates. His window-side desk. The blackboard.
His career-planning form remained on the desk.
Name filled in.
Class filled in.
Almost everything else blank.
The mechanical pencil lay beside it.
A future he had been asked to choose less than a minute ago.
University. Work. Cooking. Programming.
Ordinary possibilities.
Ordinary things.
Things that had existed moments earlier without requiring explanation.
The white reached the walls.
They disappeared.
Then the desks.
Reina vanished into the light.
Junpei.
Mika.
Shizuka.
Everyone.
Renjiro remained conscious.
One second.
Perhaps less.
No sound. No floor. No weight. Nothing.
Then—
Class 3-B vanished.
✦ ✦ ✦
The fluorescent lights were on.
The clock above the blackboard moved.
Tick.
3:56:18 p.m.
Tick.
3:56:19.
Thirty desks remained arranged across the classroom.
Bags hung from chairs.
Books lay open.
A half-empty bottle of water stood on Junpei's desk beside the edge of a white wall clock protruding from his bag.
Nothing glowed beneath the floor.
Nothing covered the walls.
Tokyo remained visible through the windows.
A mechanical pencil rolled slowly across the tile.
It struck the leg of Renjiro Kurogane's desk.
Stopped.
His career-planning form remained where he had left it.
Name.
Class.
Almost everything else—
blank.
The classroom door opened normally.
A teacher from the neighboring class looked inside.
"Shizuka-sensei?"
No answer.
He stepped farther into the room.
His expression changed.
"Shizuka-sensei?"
Thirty desks. Thirty bags. No students. No homeroom teacher. The room was empty.
Every student of Class 3-B—and Takahashi Shizuka—was gone.
End of Chapter 4