Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

♫

 “Ya’d forget yer head if it weren’t screwed on, ‘Samu. Think ‘bout how poor Yacchan’s anxieties are gonna play up if yer late.”

 “Hitoka-chan’s anxieties’ll play up no matter what I do,” Osamu sighs, heading back down the road. “Running a school festival isn’t exactly easy on someone as stressy as her.”

 “I’ll wait by the gate. Hurry up.”

 “Yer not even gonna wait, asshole?”

 “It’s yer own fault for droppin’ yer phone, dumbass. I’ll wait by the gate for ya, ok? Don’t be long or I won’t be there.”

 Osamu grumbles, shifting his bag on his shoulder as he walks down the road towards the park. He really hopes he didn’t drop his phone in the river or something. He retraces his steps slowly down the stairs and along the river. Their quiet town of Nishinomiya will probably be filling up with tourists soon. Not Osamu’s favourite time of the year. Neither is the blazing hot sun his favourite weather. Cool, grey autumn mornings are the best, but he seemed to be the only one of that opinion. Apparently the bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds and sun that blinds him reflecting off the river are so much better.

 His phone is, thankfully, in one piece in the store parking lot. Osamu sighs in relief, bending down to pick it up. There’s a message alert on the screen. It doesn’t even have a name attached. Osamu frowns, picking up the pace on the return trip. He doesn’t actually want to be late. 

 The gates come into sight and he slows to a walk again, finally opening up the strange message on his phone.

From:
be reborn

 What on earth is that supposed to mean? Be reborn? Is he getting spiritual spam on messenger now? He grins, lifting his head and tilting his phone.

 “Oi, have ya see this weird message, A-”

 What?

 Osamu lowers his phone, staring at the other three, who’re staring back. Who the hell are they? What’s going on? Someone stumbles into his back and Osamu jerks around. A fourth strange boy is there, staring up at him. They’re all in different uniforms. Osamu doesn’t recognise any of them. His gaze jerks around the school. He doesn’t recognise the school. The sky is bright and blue. The gate he came through drops off into a cliff down to clear blue water.

 “What...?”

♫

 A woman’s monotone voice calls over a tannoy in the non-existent distance, reading off a timetable as warning bells ring, alerting them to the arrival and departure of trains that aren’t real. The words are a tinny blur that Osamu can never quite catch fully. He thinks it starts as the train timetable, an apology that certain trains have been delayed and that they’ll be arriving soon. They never do and Osamu doubts they ever will. From there, he thinks it turns into evacuation orders, listing prefectures and towns and schools. But why would she list schools? And then he thinks she starts to ramble, something about starting school. Something about graduation. He thinks it descends into gibberish from there. 

 It doesn’t make sense, and logically it must just be the tinny distortions and distance. 

 Osamu sighs, reaching up to the blazing hot sun, blotting it out with his hand against the endless blue of the clear sky. A few perfect, candy floss clouds, float leisurely across the bright expanse, reflecting off the crystalline sea. The sapphire ring settled on his finger flashes in the harsh light as his fingers slowly close around the sun. As if that would stop the unrelenting heat.

 “Blue, huh?” 

 He sighs and lets his hand fall back to the wood beneath him. His feet swing absently in the water with a gentle splash. At least the water, unending as it is, is cool and refreshing in the summer heat. His trousers are rolled up so he can paddle as he lays one the warm wooden jetty, watching the clouds hang motionless in the sky.

 “Tropical shaved ice would really take the edge off the heat.”

 Too bad there’s nowhere to pick any up around here. What Osamu wouldn’t give for some cool shaved ice. 

 Some cool drinks. 

 Watermelon. 

 “I’m hungry.”

 He sits up slowly, gazing across the vast ocean in front of him. Nothing but calm, blue ocean as far as the eye can see. Osamu sighs once more, splashing his feet absently. There aren’t even any fish swimming that he can watch. There’s nothing interesting to eat at all. What a dull, uncomfortably hot place. He unbuttons his shirt and leaves it folded on the jetty with his phone. Not like it’s any use anyway. At this point, it’s nothing more than a fancy clock since there’s only one usable app. 

 Once all his clothes are in a pile with his phone on top, Osamu jumps into the water. 

 It’s shallow this close to the shore, but still deep enough Osamu can submerge himself fully. He dives to the bottom, swimming along the flat, cracked concrete. The paint across it looks like old road markings. Stop signs are bent over and twisted, littering the ocean floor. 

 Osamu takes a breath as he surfaces. His feet just about touch the ground and he gazes back at the little island school. 

 Hoshinomiya High School is something Osamu can’t make sense of. Nothing makes sense since coming here. He sighs and drops under the water again, swimming across the way he came towards the pier once more. The water is cool and refreshing, even if empty. It’s perfectly clear. Osamu can trace the warnings on the former road with his fingers with perfect clarity. But, not a single fish swims by or takes shelter beneath the jetty. And as far as the eye can see, only blue, shimmering water and the odd shadow of a cloud.

 And yet, Osamu can’t shake the feeling that things lurk out there.

 Nothing makes sense and there’s something very wrong about the endless blue of this world.

 When Osamu surfaces once more, he’s not alone anymore. On the pier, crouched at the edge with his cheek resting on his arms folded over his knees, is Komori Motoya. He grins and lifts a hand to wave.

 “Hiya.”

 “What’re’ya doin’ out here, Motoya-kun?” Osamu says, swimming over.

 Motoya’s shoulder slump and he flops back on the pier. “Rin-tan’s still trying to get online. I think he’s determined to check every computer in the building. And Keiji-kun and Aran-kun are studying. How boring. There’s a mystery to solve and they’re more interested in studying and getting online!”

 “If Sunarin can get one of the computers working and get us online, maybe that is a step towards answers,” he replies. Motoya huffs and Osamu folds his arms on the edge of the pier as a pillow. “What wouldja do to solve the mystery then, Motoya-kun?”

 “Glad you asked,” Motoya says with a grin. He sits up, resting his elbows on his crossed legs and leaning down closer to Osamu’s level. “Who’s Atsumu?”

 Osamu frowns and Motoya’s grin widens. “D’ya have an answer?”

 “Nope,” he replies, leaning back. “But that’s the answer to the puzzle, isn’t it? Just who is Atsumu? I think, if we can figure that out, we’ll have a much better idea of the situation.”

 “Why do I feel like yer trying to convince me to look for clues with ya?” Osamu sighs.

 “If it helps, we don’t have to split up?” Osamu narrows his eyes. “I brought you a towel. You should really plan your dips better, you know?”

 Osamu sighs but relents with a nod. Motoya tosses the towel on him as he gets up and wraps it around himself. Not that Motoya pays attention, he rolls over and turns away so Osamu can dry off and dress without an audience.

 “Maybe Atsumu is ReSource,” Motoya muses. Osamu glances over his shoulder at him. He’s kicking his feet in the arm, phone in hand on his front. “I mean, the way ReSource talks is more than just a chatbot, right? It’s like an actual person. ReSource said it’s here to help us, and that’s what Atsumu’s message says too.”

 “Maybe,” Osamu says. “But, ReSource seemed as surprised by us turning up as we were.”

 Motoya hums and Osamu finishes buttoning up his shirt, then crouches at his side. The FreeSpace messenger app is the only thing on their phones that will work. No photos, no contacts, unable to get any signal. But, they’d been added to the group chat before they knew it, and ReSource introduced itself as their guide to living in this place.

 “Maybe it was just us he was surprised to see,” Motoya says, sitting up. “All the school uniforms in the locker room… maybe Rin-tan was right and we’re not the first ones here. Maybe ReSource was just surprised to see new people?”

 “How do we even know Atsumu’s a person?” Osamu says. He straightens up and Motoya gets to his feet. Motoya hums, tucking his hands behind him as they climb the steps. “Maybe he was someone else like us. Maybe he’s long gone.”

 “And he left the messages for us to follow?” he says with a grin. “We need to find answers whatever the case.” 

 Osamu sighs, but wanders along by Motoya’s side as they head back towards the school. He lifts his head slowly, gazing up at the spiderweb cracks in the sky. It’s been there since they arrived. It doesn’t get any bigger, but it still unsettles Osamu.

 “The problem is, we don’t know if Atsumu left the messages in any kind of order,” Motoya says with a thoughtful tilt of his head.

 “Does it matter?” Osamu replies. “They all seem to be the same message anyway?”

 “Well then, why don’t you just mark all the places it appears and see if it forms a pattern?” Aran says as they pass.

 Ojiro Aran is the oldest of their group. He’s spread out with books and notepads on a picnic table under the shade of a tree to study. Osamu wonders if he knows what he’s studying, but apparently he just skips what seems familiar. Why study though? There aren’t any teachers and who knows what’s going on with them back home? If they even have a home.

 Do they even have a home to go back to?

 “Why don’tcha ask ReSource if there’s a map of the school somewhere ya can use to map out all the places Atsumu’s left a message?” Arana says.

 “See, this is why you're the senpai, Aran-kun,” Motoya laughs.

 Aran just sighs.

 Motoya laughs and grabs Osamu’s hand, pulling him up the steps into the school. He’s already got his phone out. Osamu’s phone is buzzing and he opens it up to reveal Motoya in the group chat, asking ReSource about the map and bugging Rin to join them in exploring.

 Suna Rintarou and Akaashi Keiji are the more anti-social members of their little group, in their own unique, slightly weird ways. Rin seems to be stuck to his phone, unable to function without it, despite their lack of use right now. He mostly seems to want to sulk and sleep so far. Although Osamu thinks he’s seen him disappear into the school gym at night. So maybe he’s just a night owl? Keiji, on the other hand, seems polite and kind and studious, but quiet. He seems content to spend time with them, but doesn’t really interact. Like a cat, Osamu thinks. With them, but not a part of them. He spends his days on the steps in the courtyard, with various books and his phone by his side, reading quietly or watching the horizon and the train tracks that vanish under the water.

 “He said yes,” Motoya chirps. Osamu turns to him and he’s grinning. “Rin-tan said yes to finding Atsumu with us.”

 “I wonder why,” Osamu mutters. He tosses his used towel on one of the umbrella stands. He’ll remember to take it to the locker room later. “Maybe he’s finally got bored of trying to find wifi.”

 “Maybe he’s finally accepting that we’re all in this together,” he says with a grin, “and we should all just be friends.”

 Osamu rolls his eyes. Even after only three days, Osamu knows that Motoya isn’t the type to blindly believe in friendship and fuzzy feelings. He’s a little shit - emphasis on the little, given he’s several inches shorter than all the others. Osamu’s still not sure if he should trust anyone here, but he thinks if anyone’s here who’s going to betray them for the fun of it, it’s Motoya.

 There’s a map waiting for them in the workroom that Osamu’s sure wasn’t there before. Still, Motoya picks it up with a grin and a notebook to go with it. Osamu stops by the vending machines to pick up snacks before heading out to meet Rin at the front gates. They’ll retrace their steps and try to figure something out.

 But, Osamu pauses in the hall. Keiji is by the steps, silhouetted against the bright, reflective water, Aran is still working through his books, and Rin is sitting on the table next to him. Aran doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to him though. Well, Rin’s pretty ignorable; he’s quiet and doesn’t demand attention, happy to scroll through his phone like there’s anything on it. Osamu isn’t sure what they’d do if they had a loud troublemaker type here. Motoya is enough chaos for them.

 “Osamu-kun?” Motoya calls. “Rin-tan’ s waiting for us.”

 “Sunarin is…?” Osamu repeats.

 He lifts his hand slowly, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight and its reflection from the ocean. If Rin is waiting and Keiji is on the steps, who’s next to Aran? 

 The boy next to Aran turns. Osamu blinks at the flash of gold and a painful longing in his chest as the stranger waves, but Osamu can’t quite make out his features.

 “Osamu-kun?”

 Osamu turns to Motoya, who’s frowning at him. “Ya don’t…”

 He turns back to the courtyard, but Aran is sitting alone. Osamu frowns. Just a trick of the light? He steps back and turns away. That must be it. Just a trick of the light. He turns and follows Motoya down the hall towards the front entrance.

 Rin is waiting by the front gate, slurping his drink through a straw. Motoya grins and bounces over.

 “Alright,” Motoya says and steps over the threshold. He stands on the edge of the cliff, wind slowly ruffling his hair as he turns to them with a grin, illuminated and glittering against the blue sky and reflective sea. “This is where it all started. The first step. Where we first met.”

 “Don’t make it sound like we’re here celebrating a romantic anniversary,” Rin mutters. “It’s only been three days.”

 Osamu sighs and tilts his head up to gaze at the crack in the sky once more. Only three days, huh? He hums and tilts his head. Only three days since the five of them stepped through these school gates, situated on a sheer cliff, to this empty school set in endless blue, with a crack in the sky. They were all in mismatched uniforms, none of them from the same school and none of them with any idea who the others were, where they were, or how they got there.

 None of them knew anything but their own names. 

 “Hmmmm.” Motoya crouches, looking at the nameplate on the gates. “Maybe it’s you, Osamu-kun.”

 “Me?” Osamu replies.

 “Maybe,” Motoya says, straightening up. “Maybe there’s a connection. You’re Miya Osamu. This school is Hoshinomiya. You’re from Tsukinomiya.”

 That's absolutely not how anything works, Osamu's sure. Clearly his name is nothing to do with his school's name, what kind of nonsense is that?

 “That does seem like an odd coincidence,” Rin says and slurps his drink.

 Motoya nods quickly as he stands. “Especially the schools. That’s a weird coincidence. Hmm… write that down, Watsamu, it might be important.”

 Rin snorts and it serves him right to be choking on it for laughing. Osamu doesn’t have any sympathy.

 “Please tell me ya didn’t just call me Watsamu,” Osamu says, narrowing his eyes.

 Motoya grins and sweeps passed, patting the notebook Osamu is holding with a laugh to take notes. Rin flashes a smirk in passing, repeating the order to take notes. He might not be the most social of the bunch, but he’s definitely capable of being smug when required. Osamu sighs and follows behind towards the school entrance. Apparently when Motoya gets an idea in his head, he’s impossible to dissuade.

 The first of Atsumu’s messages is at the front entrance. They hadn’t noticed it the first time, not until they realised what situation they were in, but it’s hidden among the other posters stuck to the windows. It’s a colourful poster for a kids’ volleyball clinic during the summer looking for volunteers. There’s a cute fox balancing a moon on its nose in the corner and a volleyball in the starry sky in the top corner. It’s cute and childish, and they’ve seen the same poster all over the school. They’ll probably have to make note of them all.

 But it’s the first place that Atsumu’s message appears, if you follow the logical progression of someone entering the school. Right there at the top, where you’d expect the title about the clinic, in the same childish, attention seeking font.

 It’ll be ok. I’m Atsumu. Let me help you.

 Motoya unfolds the map, spreading it out on the front step and marking down the location. Osamu hands over the notepad and he opens up to make notes. Whatever notes he needs to make. Osamu’s not really sure what he’s going to be writing down.

 “So,” Motoya says, “volleyball poster. Maybe he plays volleyball. Keep an eye out for any volleyball stuff around the school. What else?”

 “What else should there be?” Rin says.

 “None of the posters have the school name,” Osamu says.

 Motoya nods, turning back to his notebook. “Good catch.”

 “The moon,” Rin says. They glance up. “The moon is weird. And you’re from Tsukinomiya. It would make sense.”

 They really are obsessing over the names.

 “Ooooh,” Motoya says with a nod. “Does the school look familiar, Osamu-kun? Do you feel deja vu or something? Maybe it’s Tsukinomiya under a different name.”

 “Not really,” Osamu replies.

 “I mean, it does just feel like a generic school,” Rin sighs. “Not that we’d know, really. But even I feel like the halls are familiar.”

 Motoya sighs. “I suppose so. What else? Any other interesting posters? With the same symbols or anything? In fact, what posters are there, just all of them, maybe some of them will turn up together a lot?”

 They nod and start listing off posters for various clubs and events for Motoya to note down. They make special note of any mentions of volleyball, any foxes or moons. There are a few. The band club has the same fox. So does the cheer squad. There's an advertisement for a Tanabata festival on site; listing the most delicious sounding stalls that just makes Osamu hungrier.

 “I could really go for some takoyaki,” he sighs. “Okonomiyaki. Onigiri.”

 “Chuppet under the fireworks,” Rin mutters.

 “Shaved ice,” Motoya groans.

 Osamu glares up at the sky. “Why do we only have eggs in the kitchen?”

 “Maybe if we can find Atsumu we can ask him,” he says and Rin nods. “For the sake of our stomachs, we have to get answers.”

 They work their way through the school floor by floor, taking notes of every instance of Atsumu’s message they find and everything around it. The Tanabata poster turns up a lot. So do the band and cheer squad poster. Always by the side of the volleyball poster. But there are other places where the message appears. It’s written across chalkboards. A few textbooks are titled with it.

 And Atsumu's fingerprints are all over the school. There’s a shoe locker with Atsumu’s name on it, the only one not scratched out. There are uniforms in the locker room that don’t match theirs, but they already knew about those. It’s what first brought up the possibility that they were the latest of many. But there’s a uniform marked with Hoshinomiya and Atsumu’s name on the label too. Just like with the shoe lockers, his locker is the only one not to have its name scratched out. His school bag is inside. They empty it out on the bench between them, sorting through the contents like it’s going to be any different from a normal student’s. Text books, notebooks, an empty bento. Too bad it’s empty. Osamu might be desperate enough for an actual meal that he’d eat it.

 “You’re thinking gross thoughts, aren’t you?” Rin says.

 “Shut up,” Osamu hisses

 Atsumu’s messages don’t seem to have any kind of pattern to them. But, one spot catches their attention. In one of the classrooms, one with the desks pushed together and decorated as if expecting guests, the message is scrawled across the top of the chalkboard in bright yellow. The chalkboard has been covered in doodles and Summer Vacation is written in large colourful letters just below Atsumu's message. There’s a list of meals and drinks from the cafe - that isn’t open, and Osamu hates the board for teasing him like that - along with a timetable with smudged out details next to them. Between the doodles of foxes and moons, there are equations and diagrams. It feels important but he can't make any sense of it. 

 But one doodle in particular catches Osamu’s attention more than any other.

 Osamu lifts his hand slowly and lays it against the chalkboard next to the doodle. A white ring, set with a red triangular stone. It matches the sapphire ring on Osamu, Rin and Aran’s fingers. It feels uncomfortably coincidental.

 “If these rings are the clue, why do only three of us have them?” Rin says, looking at his own ring.

 “And why red?” Motoya says. “There’s a blue chalk right there.”

 “We don’t know Atsumu did all this though,” Osamu says, turning away. “But, if it was all him, maybe he’s tryna warn us ‘bout something?”

 Motoya leans into his space, taking his hand and looking over the ring. “The rings?”

 “Who knows,” Rin mutters. “But, if these things are all from him, maybe this room is some kind of epicenter? Maybe this is where he was or something? Like a base.”

 “Maybe there are other hints here,” he laughs. “Time to split up and look for clues!”

 “Yer way too into this,” Osamu says, pulling his hand away. 

 But, Motoya’s not wrong. So they leave their notes in the middle of the room and split up to investigate the classroom. There’s another school bag marked as Atsumu’s, this one a gym bag. Inside is a jersey and gym gear. 

 “Maybe Atsumu played volleyball,” Osamu says, holding up the #11 jersey up to his body. “Feels nostalgic…” He frowns, lowering the jersey and holding it loosely in his hands. Rin and Motoya are frowning at him too. “I wonder… if I played too…”

 “It kinda does feel familiar,” Rin says, glancing away.

 “Maybe that’s how we’re connected,” Motoya says, folding his arms. “Maybe we all met playing. Maybe we’ve played Atsumu.”

 Osamu nods quietly. He’s not sure why, but he can’t bring himself to let go of the jersey. He lifts his head to the others, only for some writing on the opposite chalkboard to catch his eye. It hadn’t been much of an interest compared to the one at the other end of the room, but, half hidden behind a hanging navy blazer, Osamu thinks he can see his name.

 “Osamu?” Rin says, waving a hand in front of him.

 Osamu steps forward and slowly takes the blazer from where it’s hanging. And sure enough, it’s a list of names. Well, that’s something concrete at last. Their names are all on the list, along with others.

 Along with Atsumu’s name.

 “Finally,” Motoya sighs. “An actual clue.”

 “Shouldn't you be more concerned by this?” Rin says. Motoya frowns. “The fact that our names are on the list, but we’re not alone? Doesn’t that mean there were others here?”

 “Or others are coming,” Osamu says.

 Motoya frowns and sits on the edge of the table with his notebook. “Read them out to me? From the top.”

 Osamu sighs and nods, reading out the names, the strange place names with them, and the colours they’re written in. The place names aren’t anything Osamu recognises. To be honest, he’s not sure they’re real places. Maybe some kind of description or codename? Most of them are written in blue. Some of them are written in red. Including Keiji.

 “It feels like the more we learn, the more confusing it gets,” Osamu sighs, stepping back.

 “Have we even actually learnt anything?” Rin says. “We’re on a list of random colours and places. If there’s an order of pattern, I can’t see it.”

 “Maybe we should focus on the odd ones out?” Motoya says. They nod. It makes as much sense as anything. “Atsumu and Kenma don’t have family names. And there’s that smudge out blue name. Kenma doesn’t have a place name and Atsumu’s is smudged out. That and Keiji-kun being in red. They seem like anomalies.” 

 It’s all very well saying that but they don’t really have any other clues to go on. Knowing these things are different doesn’t actually help them figure out why they’re different. Osamu sighs, gazing down at his ring.

 “The rings?” he says quietly, tipping his head back, gazing at the red ring on the opposite board. “Maybe we’re blue ‘cause of our rings. Maybe the colour we’re written in is the colour of our rings?”

 “I don’t have a ring,” Motoya says with a frown.

 “Maybe ya do,” Osamu says. “Maybe ya’ve just lost it. Maybe it’s somewhere in yer bag or pockets or something. Or maybe ya had it before ya came here and just don’t have it with ya.”

 “Then, Akaashi has a red ring?” Rin says.

 “I guess,” Motoya says. “What’s with all this? Why can’t it just make sense?”

 “If Atsumu’s on that list, does that mean he’s like us?”

 “Maybe he really is tryna warn us of something,” Osamu sighs. 

 “So, what are we supposed to do?” Rin says, leaning on the wall.

 Motoya sighs and lowers his head. “I don’t know. It’s lots of clues, but I don’t know how it all fits together.”

 Osamu frowns, looking down at the jersey still in his hands. He has no idea what they’re supposed to do with all these clues either. All these scattered pieces don’t make any sense. He’s sure they must slot together somehow, but Osamu can’t see it. 

 Eventually, Motoya sighs and slumps back in his chair. “Let’s just play volleyball.”

 “Volleyball?” Rin says.

 “Why not?” Motoya replies, leaving his things and standing up. One thing about being the only people here means nothing goes missing if they leave it lying around. “Volleyball comes up over and over. Maybe we should play.”

 “D’ya know how to play?” Osamu says.

 “We’ll work it out,” he replies, already striding out. Osamu and Rin sigh between themselves but follow him anyway. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

 “We’re going to just be tossin’ the ball around, huh?” he laughs.

 “I’m sure two on two is a type of volleyball,” he argues.

 They follow Motoya to the gym to find a plastic ball before he manages to bug Aran into joining them. And, for some reason, rather than changing into gym wear, Motoya throws swimming trunks at them.

 “What the hell?” Rin groans.

 “C’mon, we’ll play in the sea,” Motoya laughs.

 “The sea?” Aran sighs.

 “What? It’s not cold or anything,” he says. “Osamu-kun goes skinny dipping every day. We’ve got this gorgeous ocean, why not use it?”

 Osamu sighs but goes along with it. Why not? Motoya’s right. If they can’t escape, they might as well have some fun in the sea keeping them prisoner. Aran relents with a shrug and Rin grumbles about being dragged into things but goes with it. 

 “Don’t blame me when you get a chill,” Keiji says as they head down the steps to the sea. He’s watching their pile of towels at the top of the steps. “There’s a pool over there.”

 “The water’s not that cold,” Aran says, wading in. “And it seems pretty safe. Ya could join us.”

 “I’d rather not,” he replies.

 As always, the water is cool but not cold. It’s a nice break from the summer heat. Osamu isn’t sure how Keiji can stand the heat, but he doesn’t look even slightly flustered. 

 Motoya ducks under the water and comes back with his hair all over his face. The water is barely waist deep on even Motoya, but that’s probably. The ground beneath their feet is a little sandy, but mostly solid. This close to the school, there are rock pools and flowers where the sunflower covered banks meet the sea. It's a little strange, but kind of idyllic, in a weird sort of way. They don’t head as far out as the jetty, not far enough to hit old roads and sign posts, but far enough from the steps that they’re not going to splash Keiji and that the train tracks are floating at the surface without support.

 Motoya pulls Aran over to his side of the tracks, with a pout about balancing out the sizes and starts with the ball. They don’t really know how to play volleyball, so they settle on whoever drops the ball on their side of the tracks loses and Keiji at least reluctantly agrees to keep score for them. No holding the ball, everything else goes. Simple enough. Probably nothing like the actual technical rules of volleyball, but it’ll do for them.

 It takes a few false starts for them to figure out what they’re doing. The sandy layer over the rocky ground is slippy and slick and the water resists their movements. It creates a weird mix of weightlessness and unbalance. More than once, Osamu has lunged for the ball, only to trip and splash face first into the water as the ball bobs away like the tease it is. 

 Volleyball is the worst. 

 It’s frustrating and exhausting and Osamu hadn’t realised he was quite so competitive. But it’s fun. Under the blazing sun and blue sky, splashing around in the clear water like dumb kids is way more fun than he imagined it would be. 

 And Osamu thinks, every now and again, he catches a flash of warm laughter on the wind and between the splashes and yells. He thinks, out of the corner of his eye, he catches a figure sitting with Keiji, watching them fool around. Whenever he turns to look, though, the figure is gone; only ever visible when Osamu isn’t looking for him.

 But the longer they play, the more Osamu thinks his body is used to this. Despite the water and the sand, his body wants to move certain ways. Motoya seems to be fighting the same urge to put his arms together as Osamu is, if only that didn’t put them below the water a lot of the time. Aran is definitely going to break their ball if he keeps hitting like that and Rin seems surprisingly good at blocking the ball. 

 Rin shoves the ball back in Motoya’s face after another spike and it hits the water next to him as Motoya grumbles and rubs his forehead.

 “You’re unfairly good at this, Rin-tan,” he sighs.

 “I think you’re just too short for this,” Rin replies. “Isn’t volleyball supposed to be a sport for tall people?”

 “Like we know,” Motoya grumbles. “I’m not even that short. You’re all tall. I think.”

 “I think you’re short,” he says with a slight smirk. “If we need to know how the weather is down there, we’ll ask.”

 “Hey-”

 The ground shakes violently and  Osamu grabs the tracks for balance. Suddenly, there are waves washing against the steps. Keiji stands and the four of them scramble back to shore. Rin grabs Motoya’s hand as he stumbles, pulling him up onto the steps and towards the courtyard. They collapse to the steps, watching tracks pull up into the distance just under the surface. There aren’t tracks out there. Osamu has been swimming out there. He knows there aren’t tracks. But they’re forming anyway.

 Buildings start to rise up from the water, sendings waves crashing against the steps and they scramble to get higher, away from the turbulent sea. 

 “What the hell?” Aran whispers, as the tracks connect to shapes in the distance. 

 By the time the sea calms again, there are soft trees, electrical pylons, small buildings and iron beamed bridges visible in the distance. There's an entirely new landscape on the distant horizon after days of nothing but blue.

 “We just…” Aran blinks at the horizon. “We all just saw that, right?”

 “Yeah,” Osamu says. “That all just… popped out the sea.”

 “This isn’t right,” Keiji says. “This isn’t right at all.”

 “Did we just unlock a new level?” Motoya says.

 “A new level?” Rin says. “This isn’t a game.”

 “It might be,” he argues. “I’m sure… weren’t there anime like that? Protagonists are dragged into a game and they have to complete it as the heroes to escape, right? I’m sure that’s a thing.”

 “If we’re in a game, and this is home base and that’s the next level,” Keiji replies, frowning at the buildings, “then isn’t that where we find enemies?”

 “Maybe it’s a dating sim,” Rin says.

 Osamu frowns, wrapping one of the towels around his shoulders and handing out the others. “Way to think positive, Sunarin.”

 “We’re going to investigate, right?” Motoya says, getting to his feet with a gin. “We’ve got to.”

 “What if it’s dangerous out there?” Keiji says.

 “What if we get trapped out there and can’t get back?” Aran agrees.

 “So you just want to sit here and let the days pass by without answers?” Motoya argues. “Even if it’s dangerous, don’t we have to at least have a look?”

 “Do we?” Osamu says.

 Motoya huffs, stomping back towards the locker room. “I’m going, you lot can sit here and be boring if you want, but I want answers.”

 “Do you?” Keiji says.

 “Huh?” he says, turning back to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 Keiji frowns, gazing back at the nearly formed world down the tracks. “What if you’ve forgotten for a reason? What if you remember things you wish you hadn’t? Do we really have to remember? Even if it breaks your heart? Even if you wish to forget again, you might not be able to.”

 Motoya frowns at him, pulling the towel around him a little more. “Don’t you want to remember, Keiji-kun? Are you really happy like this? Are we even us without our memories?”

 “We don’t need things like memories,” Aran mutters. They turn to him and Osamu can’t help gently nudging against Motoya, laying his hand over his trembling one. “I dunno why, but I think I’ve heard somethin’ like that. Something ‘bout… if we cling onto yesterday, what’re we gonna be tomorrow?”

 “Then we should just be happy like this? We should let go of our memories?”

 “Assuming there are memories out there for us to even remember,” Rin mutters.

 “That doesn’t matter,” Osamu says. Motoya lifts his head, frowning up at him and he flashes a grin back. “Aran-kun’s right.”

 “He is?” Motoya says quietly.

 “He is?” Rin and Keiji mutter.

 “I feel like I should be glad,” Aran says. “But him agreeing with me makes me uncomfortable.”

 “O’course he’s right,” Osamu says. “Even if there aren’t any memories out there for us to find, or our memories are awful, then we don't need ‘em. They’ve already made us who we are. They’ve already made us this different, right? It’s like, if we’re all water, then the ingredients added to turn us into different stocks and broths are our memories, but they've been strained out now. But just ‘cause ya can’ see ‘em anymore, doesn’t mean the flavour ain’t still there.”

 “You’re so weird,” Rin sighs.

 “And, if there aren’t any memories out there, we just need to make more,” he continues. Motoya’s eyes widen and Osamu squeezes his hand. “And ain’t goin’ on a quest through a mysterious land way better memories than any borin’ school lessons we’ve forgotten?”

 Motoya gazes up at him for a moment before a dazzling grin breaks out and he nods. “Right.”

 “Let’s go,” he says with a grin.

 “Well, I suppose if you two are so determined to go,” Rin says, getting up slowly, “someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”

 “Rin-tan!” Motoya laughs, and Rin ducks away before Motoya can grab him. “You do care!”

 “I do not.”

 “Liar.”

 “Like I can let the three of ya go alone,” Aran sighs. “You’ll be dead before ya leave the school.” He glances down. “Keiji-kun?”

 Keiji sighs and tilts his head back to gaze at them. “Tomorrow.”

 “Huh?”

 “If we’re going to do this, we need to be prepared,” he says, closing his book. “And, we need to make sure it’s not just going to vanish overnight. Even if we’re determined to head out there, we don’t know anything. We need a plan, supplies, precautions. So, we don’t rush. We’ll do it tomorrow, or you can do it without me.”

 “He’s not wrong,” Aran says. “There’s a lot of stuff we don’t know about this world and what’s out there. We shouldn’t rush it. Especially if it can help us get our memories back. None of us wanna screw up our chances, right?” They nod and Aran grins. “Then let's get dressed and start planning, huh?”

 At least Motoya has perked up again. It doesn’t seem right to see him looking so sad. He’s really invested in finding the answers to their missing memories, huh? No matter how playful and cheerful he seems all the time, he’s actually really struggling.

 “There’s a new message,” Rin says. Of course he’s checking his phone straight away after dressing. Osamu frowns and leans over Rin’s shoulder, resting his hands absently against his bare back. “An alert?”

 “Destabilization detected?” Osamu mutters. “What does that mean?”

 “As if I know,” Rin says, shoving his face away. He scowls and turns to his phone. “I’ll ask ReSource, but it’s never helpful.”

 “I’m pretty sure when it says help us, it means keep us trapped here,” he says, turning his own phone. 

 There’s a new message and he opens up the group chat he doesn’t remember agreeing to join. There’s the destabilization alert, whatever the hell that actually means, and then ReSource, objecting to them calling it unhelpful. 

 “It’s creepy that it knows what we’re saying,” he says and Rin nods. 

 ReSource might object to being called unhelpful, but it is. All it does is warn them not to go to the other world - interesting choice of description - as it’ll be dangerous. That doesn’t discourage any of them really. Aran’s frowning and muttering about this being why they need to prepare. And Rin might constantly claim he’s being dragged into their shenanigans, but he never backs out. Osamu thinks Rin just wants an excuse to be chaotic without admitting it. 

 “Hey, Aran-kun,” Motoya says. “Can we show you and Keiji-ku our research?”

 Aran nods. “If ya’ve got something to share, sure.”

 Sometimes, Osamu is sure there’s actually a sixth member of their group. Beyond ReSource’s creepy ability to hear them, sometimes he’s sure there’s someone else here. That figure he sees out of the corner of his eye and hears when he’s not paying attention. He’s sure as they’re approaching the courtyard, Keiji is talking to someone, but when they arrive, he’s alone and reading on the steps, as always.

 “Keiji-kun,” Aran calls. “The detectives want to share their findings.”

 Keiji shuts his book and stands. “I highly doubt there are answers just floating around here, Ojiro-san.”

 “Yer so formal ‘bout everythin’,” he sighs and Osamu nods. The dialect says he and Aran are from Kansai, a region not exactly famous for its formality, but Keiji is so painfully polite and formal even when being blunt bordering on nasty. Not even Rin’s that formal after three days of just the two of them. “But, if they think they’ve found something.”

 Motoya is still glaring at Keiji a little childishly as they head into the school and return to the classroom on the first floor. 

 “What a weird place,” Aran mutters as they enter. “Did the three of ya do this?”

 “It was like this when we found it,” Rin replies, slumping on the couch. 

  It’s like a clubroom or something,” Motoya says. “Or maybe summer classes?”

 “It definitely feels like a hangout, right?” Osamu says.

 “It does,” Aran says.

 Keiji sits at the pushed together desks while Aran looks around. It might look like a club room or summer classes, but the details are wrong. It’s weird. The uniforms scattered and hung around don’t match each other. There are barrels in one corner, an old bicycle, Atsumu’s gym bag, stacks of books, an actual volleyball rather than the plastic thing they’d been using, what looks like trading card decks in one of the cubby holes. The other desks are pushed aside, there’s one with a group of chairs around it and a stack of cardboard boxes around it, and inside some of them are variously designed plushies. And Osamu has no idea why any classroom has a couch and coffee table under the windows. 

 It’s weird. 

 “Alright,” Aran says, turning to them. “Whatcha got to show us then?”

 “Let’s start with the biggest deal,” Motoya says, stepping over to the board with the list of names. Keiji’s constant frown turns a little more frowny and Aran leans back on the desk with a thoughtful hum. “We’re all on the list. It’s the only thing we’ve found that gives us a concrete link between us all.”

 “It is creepy seeing us all on a list like that,” he says with a nod. He frowns and leans forward a little. “Atsumu’s there too, huh?”

 “But no family name or… whatever this next bit is,” he says.

 Aran frowns, leaning back and folding his arms. “Atsumu, huh?”

 “Something familiar about it?” Rin says.

 “I dunno,” Aran sighs, shaking his head. “It’s something I can’t seem to reach. Like when yer sure ya’ve forgotten somethin’.”

 “We’ve forgotten a lot,” Keiji says. “What about the others? Or the colours and the places?”

 “What if it’s some kind of test,” he replies, glancing over his shoulder. “Maybe we’re supposed to prove something and the colours are who’s failed.”

 “Then Keiji-kun’s already failed?” Rin says.

 “Do I seem like the sort of person who’s ever failed a test?” Keiji says, adjusting his glasses.

 “We had a different idea,” Motoya says, bouncing over to the other board. “What if Keiji-kun and I do have rings, just not with us?” He holds his hand up to the doodle of a red ring. “What if Keiji-kun had a red ring before coming here?”

 “So, we’re assuming the rings are important then?” Aran says.

 “It's possible,” Osamu says. “But, also volleyball.”

 “Volleyball?” Keiji says.

 “I did wonder why ya suddenly wanted to play,” Aran says.

 “When we made the map,” Motoya says, spreading out his map on the desk. “We noticed that Atsumu’s message didn’t seem to have much of a pattern location wise, but we didn’t find a volleyball poster without it. It turns up with a moon and fox a lot, but it’s those volleyball posters. And we found a jersey. We think Atsumu played volleyball. And maybe we did too.”

 Aran hums. “It did feel kind of natural.”

 “Maybe that’s how we all know each other,” Osamu says. “And him.”

 “And, think about it, when we played, that new place appeared,” Motoya says with a nod. “Maybe if it is a test, the more we figure out the clues, the more they’ll give us.”

 “So it really is like a game,” Rin says.

 “Maybe.”

 “That’s not really what games are designed to do though,” Keiji says quietly. They turn to him and Keiji frowns, taking off his glasses to clean them. “Games aren’t really designed to test you. They’re designed with a carefully balanced difficulty curve, just hard enough that you feel like you were tested and only just made it, a reward system carefully balanced to make you want to keep going. Video games are designed to be addictive and lure you deeper.”

 “What’re ya sayin’, Keiji-kun?” Aran says.

 “If this world is set up like a game,” he says, “perhaps we should consider why and what we’re being lured deeper into.”

 Silence hangs over the room. Osamu hadn’t considered that at all, but Keiji’s right. Games are designed to be addictive. Why would a world ever be like that for no reason?

 “Well,” Aran says, straightening up. “What about these places? Are they even places? Maybe they’re something to do with our pasts?”

 Keiji hums. “A Star Festival, that probably means Tanabata.”

 “Ooooh, there’s posters all over the school for a Tanabata festival here,” Motoya says. He wanders off and returns with the poster, putting it on the table for them to lean over. “Maybe we really do need to throw our own festival and something from Osamu-kun’s past will reveal itself.”

 “It’s not a Tanabata without food stalls,” Osamu says. “An’ I’m not having a food stall with just eggs in my pantry.”

 “What about the others then?” Rin says.

 Osamu frowns at the list and the names beside them. They’re just weird descriptions. He thinks he was probably right that they’re some kind of code name or in joke.

Suna Rintarou - Lily Tears: Careless Unbalance
Komori Motoya - Trembling Cliffs: Crumbling Facade
Ojiro Aran- Oracle Shrine: The Divine's Will
Akaashi Keiji - Lighthouse Stellarium: Sea of Candy Stars 

 None of them make sense like the Osamu's really. At least, not without more context. At least some of them seem descriptive. What the hell does Lily Tears mean? Typical of Rin to be that much of a pain in the ass.

 They sit in the hangout classroom for hours, working through their plan for the next day, what they might find and what they’d need to pack. They have no idea what’s coming. Osamu spends the evening cooking dinner and supplies for tomorrow while Aran washes out some of the empty bento boxes they found around the school. And, honestly, screw whatever thing is keeping them here for only stocking them with only eggs, it’s such a pain in the ass. He's still thinking about seeing what he can make from the vending machine snacks. And Suna is useless, sitting at one of the tables and scrolling through his phone like there’s going to be anything new on it. Keiji is flicking through his book still and Motoya sits on the counter next to Osamu, chatting away casually.

 At the very least, cooking gets Osamu out of other duties. Even so, Osamu keeps Motoya company as he sorts their laundry for washing in the morning. Having to hand wash everything is a pain. He’s glad to be out of that. But, Motoya keeps him company as he cooks, so Osamu remains with him now. 

 “Do you think our memories really are over there?” Motoya says quietly, barely heard over the rustle of clothes. “Is Keiji-kun right and we should let it go?”

 “I dunno,” Osamu replies. “But, I don’t want to just abandon our memories either. And, whatever the situation, I want to take a look out there. I want to know what’s happening.”

 Motoya glances back at him and nods. “I’m glad you’ve got my back at least.”

 They sleep in the nurse’s office. The beds are already sectioned off and set out, even if they’re not the most comfortable. It’s not luxury, but it’s enough space for the five of them and the curtains give them at least a little privacy. And thankfully no one snores.

 “Hey, Ojiro-san,” Keiji whispers, once they’re all settled into their beds and things have been quiet for a while. “I’m sure you’ve already considered… this might not be something so wholesome as a game or test…”

 “Ya mean we’re already dead,” Aran replies, “and this is some kind of purgatory where we face judgement for the lives we led.”

 “Everything about this place is already so strange,” he says. “It wouldn’t be such a stretch, would it?”

 “No,” he sighs. “But, I think whatever the situation really is, tryna carry on as we have been likely won’t get us anywhere. I think it’s best to face whatever’s coming head on. I think I’d regret chickening out more than takin’ a risk an’ failing. If I have sins to make up for, I wanna know, so I can see how far I’ve come.”

 “Things can’t be taken back though,” Keiji says softly. There’s a quiet rustle of fabric and Keiji sighs. “Things will change.”

 “Things always change.”

 “I wish they wouldn’t.”

 Things have to change. No matter how they wish to hold onto a special time and place, they have to move on. The world won’t stop and wait for them. Maybe that’s why this strange eternal summer feels so wrong. A world that doesn’t move on and doesn’t change. 

 Osamu wakes in the darkness of the night to quiet movement. He sits up slowly and there’s a shape on the other side of the curtains. Whoever it is moves away silently and Osamu frowns, slowly pulling back the curtain. The door is just closing. Their ghostly sixth member again? Osamu frowns, pulling on his shoes and hurrying after the figure. 

 “Hello?” he calls softly in the hallway. He bites his lip, shutting the infirmary door behind him before taking a guess. “Atsumu?”

 There are quiet footsteps leading away and Osamu chases after them. Whoever the figure is, he stays just out of sight the entire time. Just around corners and down the stairs. The doors to the courtyard are open and Osamu steps out into the darkness. 

 The sky is beautiful. Without the clouds and without polluting city lights, the dark sky is clear and glittering with starlight. The galaxy arches over the school, more brightly than Osamu ever imagined it would. He smiles absently, reaching up to the stars. 

 Tanabata, huh?

 A chance for reunion under the stars.

 The lights in the gym are on and Osamu turns to it slowly. Light cracks through the door and pours through the windows as he approaches. He gazes through the crack in the doors. 

 Rin’s inside. Osamu tilts his head a little, curiously watching Rin on the floor stretching. He can pull himself all the way down to the ground, practically bent in half and holding his ankle stretched in front of him. Wow. He had no idea Rin was that flexible. And Osamu’s cheeks flush a little as his gaze trails down to the patch of bare skin where his t-shirt rides up from his sweatpants.

 “I can feel you drooling from here,” Rin says, sitting up. He glances back at Osamu as he changes legs. “Come in or go away. The stalking is creepy.”

 “I’m not stalkin’ ya,” Osamu replies. He slips his shoes off and steps inside, shutting the door behind him. Rin gives him a glance before bending slowly forward, holding his ankle and stretching out. “I saw ya leavin’ and was curious.”

 “No you didn’t,” he says. “I left a while ago.”

 Osamu wrinkles his nose. “The sixth again, huh?”

 “Sixth?” he says.

 “I keep catching sight of someone else. Like a ghost. Always out of the corner of my eye. Like talking to Keiji-kun or leading us places. Ya never noticed?”

 Rin hums, straightening up again. “Maybe, sometimes. I think someone led me out here when I couldn’t sleep the first night. I assumed it was the trick of the light, but… maybe I heard a voice telling me…”

 “Tellin’ ya?”

 “I’d better not screw up this time.”

 This time? If it is Atsumu, clearly he knows what they’d done in their past. He knows who they are. Or were. Is it Atsumu trying to help them? Or something more sinister? It doesn’t make any sense. Nothing here makes sense.

 “What’re ya doin’ out here, anyway?” Osamu says, crouching next to Rin. “Ya thoughtcha couldn’t sleep so just came out here to stretch?”

 Rin tilts his head, face as blank as ever. Osamu really wishes he was a little more expressive. He’s so hard to read. It always seems like there’s so much more going on in his head than he ever says out loud. 

 “I don’t know, to be honest,” he says, after a moment. He hums and stretches his legs to the side instead. “I just felt like I hadn’t moved enough. And, then when I found the gym empty and wanted to move around, this was just what my body felt like it needed to do. Like muscle memory or routine, I guess. Like you and cooking. And isn’t that why you go swimming every day, because you feel like you’ve not burnt off enough energy?”

 Osamu tilts his head, watching Rin’s movements, switching slowly from one side of the stretch to the other. He’s pretty sure he’d snap in half if he ever tried to stretch that far. And he doesn’t really want to admit how much he’s kind of distracted by the way Rin’s shirt rides up with every movement. He hadn’t noticed before, but Rin’s really toned. Osamu doesn’t think he’s out of shape. He’s probably decently fit, but Rin’s muscles are obvious and firm right under the skin, flexing as he stretches. 

 “I swear, if you actually start drooling I’m never going to let you live it down,” Rin says. He sits up and brings his legs together, giving Osamu a cold glance. “And after you’ve been so shameless with Komori, too.”

 “Huh? Motoya-kun?” Osamu says, blinking down at him. 

 Rin gives him a flat look before he stands and brushes himself down. “Shameless.”

 Really, Osamu has no idea what he means, but watching Rin work through his stretching routine is something else. He’s pretty sure Rin’s trying to kill him. He arches his back and catches his ankle behind his head and Osamu’s sure he’s going to have a heart attack. If he’s ever had crushes before, Osamu doesn’t remember, so it’s fine to call Rin the first person who’d ever made him feel like this.

 And he’s definitely feeling some kind of way. 

 “So, ya were some kinda gymnast or dancer or somethin’?” Osamu says.

 “Guess so,” Rin says and straightens up his leg. “I doubt I can do all this for no reason. If you’re going to just sit here and be useless, come and be a support while I do my bad leg.”

 “Bad leg?” he says, getting up. “Yer injured?

 “Not injured,” he says, shaking his head as he straightens out. “I think…” He hums and tilts his head. “I don’t think it’s uncommon to just have one side better than the others. Like being right handed.”

 “Oh.”

 Rin doesn’t talk much through his stretching. He quietly instructs Osamu and works through a routine like it’s second nature. And then somehow goads Osamu into trying out some of his lighter stretches. He’s definitely going to be aching tomorrow. Rin just smiles. He looks like he’s reaching for his phone before remembering he can’t use it. Yeah, Rin strikes Osamu as the type to record his friends being embarrassed.

 “Hey, Miya,” Rin says as they’re sitting in the break area.

 “Osamu’s fine,” he replies.

 The break area on the ground floor of the school is a comfy seating area set against a curved glass wall. There are better vending machines here and Osamu assumes the view would have once been over the athletic field on the other side of the courtyard, where the tracks and mysterious buildings now sit against the stars. Freshly showered from their exercise, Rin is glistening in the dim light of stars and glowing vending machines as they sit side by side with sports drinks.

 “Why do you really think Akaashi is different from us?” Rin says.

 “Ya mean why is he in red?” Osamu says. Rin nods. “I dunno.”

 “Komori doesn’t have a ring but, if it is that, why’s Akaashi different?” he says. 

 “What’re ya thinkin’?”

 “That maybe he’s a threat. If this is a video game, don’t most narratives like this have a traitor?” He hums and tilts his head back, letting droplets of water drip from his damp hair over his chin and down his throat. “What if Akaashi’s dangerous? He’s the one who didn’t want to go over there and get our memories back.”

 Osamu frowns down at the drink in his hands. “I thoughtcha weren’t into the idea either?”

 “I just don’t think we should be rushing,” Rin says. “You and Komori were very keen to go barrelling in there on uncertain terms. A little realism never hurts. Or… were you just trying to make Komori smile again?”

 “Ya seem terribly bothered by me an’ Motoya-kun, Sunarin,” Osamu replies. Rin rolls his eyes. “I do want answers. And it was weird seein’ Motoya-kun lookin’ so worried by something’. As for Keiji-kun… I think as long as we keep in mind that he might be different, we should be ok.”

 “You’re too trusting,” he sighs. 

 “Maybe. But, I think I just don’t like the idea of people bein’ alone.” He hums and turns to the ocean, then tilts his head thoughtfully. “Hey, Sunrarin? Wanna cool down a bit more before we dry off?”

♫

 Atsumu hums, leaning on the rails of Hoshinomiya’s roof, watching Osamu drag Suna down to the pier to undress and jump into the starlit sea. The carefree days of youth, huh?

 “This could be dangerous,” Kenma says quietly, not looking up from his game. “Connecting the Heartscapes could result in more cracking.”

 “I know that,” Atsumu snaps. “I didn’t do it.” 

 “I didn’t,” he says. 

 “I’m not sure I believe ya,” he laughs.

 “I don’t really believe you either,” he replies. “So, let’s just assume neither of us trust each other, and pretend we believe each other for now and focus on other possibilities.” Now he looks up from his game, looking out at the buildings in the distance. “Another player has joined the game, huh?”

 “Or the AI’s being a cheating bastard again,” he sighs. 

 Kenma pulls a face. “It does do that. It’s possible we’ve entered a new difficulty mode.”

 “Must Die difficulty, huh?” Atsumu mutters.  “I'm gonna have to get Mori involved if things are gonna get difficult.” He glances at Kenma, whose eyes are bright and glittering with starlight. “Ya look pumped for that. S’all about the challenge for ya, ain’t it?”

 “It’s not just about beating the game,” Kenma says, frowning at him. “You’re not the only one desperate to save someone.”