True Education: I Have a Life Simulator

[You push aside the scene before you. You're now in a corridor filled with the shattered fragments of dreams. On every surface—the walls, the ceiling, the floor—countless scenes flicker and play.]

["No... I can't." In a park deep in autumn, Ichinose Honami rejects someone's confession.]

["Let's not. If we keep it, it might just get thrown away like trash. Please take it back." At a temple on the mountainside, Ichinose Honami returns an unopened love charm to a monk.]

["Since Ryo is okay, I'll head back now. If I get home too late, Mom will worry. I also need to tell Maki about your condition." In a snow-white hospital room, Ichinose Honami leaves in a rush after visiting someone in the rain.]

[And lastly, Ichinose Honami's shadow stretches across the ground under the burst of fireworks, the sudden light elongating and distorting it into a monstrous, fragile figure—clutching a knife.]

["So... familiar." You recall Hotaru's final words in your mind: "Anywhere is fine. After all, they're all her unconscious nightmares. It doesn't matter which one."]

["Is this... one of Honami's unconscious nightmares?"]

["But it's too real."]

You walk forward step by step. No matter how fantastical a dream, it must be grounded in some real-world archetype or past event. And yet, Ichinose Honami's sea of nightmares feels undeniably real.

"As if it were a parallel timeline."

You raise your eyes to a glowing screen in front of you. It shows Ichinose Honami shutting herself off for six months after being caught stealing, before finally entering Tokyo Metropolitan Advanced Nurturing High School.

This appears to be the only worldline without your presence.

You stand silently, watching Ichinose Honami struggle.

"If Nagumo-senpai lends me 4 million private points to protect Class B from expulsion, then... I'll accept his confession."

Strange.

How could someone say something so completely self-sacrificing?

You reach out and swipe the scene away.

"If she's truly struggling, I want to help her. No matter who it's for, I'll do everything I can, even if it pushes me to the edge."

Ichinose Honami declares.

Too strange. Is this really who she is?

Hey now, that doesn't sound like a leader at all. With this kind of obvious weakness, once the enemy catches on, she'll be crushed.

"Lately, it's just been me and Honami eating lunch. It feels lonely. The student council work keeps piling up, but at least we can still talk when things get tough."

The smiling yellow-haired boy below you makes your stomach churn. You step on his face and move on.

"No, this won't work."

You're being overwhelmed by too much information. Even if you're more mentally resilient than the average person, it's impossible to remember everything and verify the authenticity of each fragment.

"If this is Ichinose Honami's dream..."

"Then under what circumstances would someone embed fantasy within a dream?"

"What kind of person entrusts their hopes to dreams?"

"What kind of person was the Ichinose Honami in your memory?"

You stop trying to process everything. Instead, you violently and thoroughly piece together every residual memory, every element of the current situation, all possible clues and answers, and return to the core of the problem.

"There must be a clue I missed."

"If the first dream I entered without memory was Ichinose Honami's original dream, then there must be something I didn't notice."

"But how do I return to that dream now?"

You knock your forehead gently, trying to focus on that one question.

"If the first dream was a fabricated reality Honami wished were true... like the one where she stabbed me with a knife. Then the rest of her might have longed for a happier dream."

"Maybe, just maybe... if I kill myself in the dream, I can return to the start."

You slowly cover your mouth and nose with both hands, as if you're playing a game with a child to see who can hold their breath the longest.

Quickly, your lungs scream in protest.

Your heart races wildly, your brain howls, desperate to survive.

Strength drains from your knees. From your whole body. You feel faint, as though you're being erased.

The boundary between life and death begins to blur.

The body wants to live. But your consciousness violently suppresses that instinct.

The dream continues to loop.

"If Nagumo-senpai lends me 4 million points, I'll agree to date him."

How could she say something so self-deprecating? And she's Ichinose Honami! Even in dreams, that's unacceptable.

"Once more."

As your vision fades to black, your pale lips form a smile of hope.

"Haa... haa... haa..."

You bolt upright in bed, gasping for air like someone just saved from drowning. You gasp and wheeze. The woman next to you stirs, groggy, and switches on the lamp. Warm golden light envelops you both.

"Did you have a nightmare, Ryo?"

Ichinose Honami sits up and wraps her arms around you. Though being woken up in the middle of the night isn't pleasant, she acts like it's nothing, pulling you gently into her arms.

"I told you not to take those weird pills the doctor prescribed before bed. Whatever, I'll throw them away tomorrow."

She pats your back tenderly. Her soft lips whisper into your ear:

"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here. I'll always be here."

You try to piece together your scrambled memories and calm your frantic heartbeat.

"The doctor... is it Sakayanagi-sensei?"

"Of course. I told you that woman is shady. Besides, being amnesiac Ryo isn't bad at all. Since we got married half a year ago, it's my responsibility to take care of you. And I will."

She wraps her arms tighter around your back, her face nuzzling against your chin.

You glance around the room. On the bedside table is a capsule box, partially covered by what looks like a medication form.

You pick it up and read under the dim light:

"Name: Kitagawa Ryo. Symptoms: Amnesia. Based on our conversation, I recommend the following—"

This handwriting... looks familiar.

Wait. Isn't this identical to that note? The one that said "Don't believe anything Ichinose Honami says." Or that love letter she claimed you wrote?

But... you remembered it clearly just now.

Yet now, both the note and the memory of the letter begin to fade, like sand slipping through an hourglass.

"What time is it now?"

"Ah, it's 5:57. Morning is coming soon. What do you want for breakfast, Ryo?"

"You lose your memory every morning."

You suddenly recall that absurd truth. Panicked, you break free from Ichinose Honami's embrace, run barefoot into the living room, and grab the landline phone.

You dial Sakayanagi Arisu's number.

"Hello, this is psychiatrist Sakayanagi Arisu."

Her cool voice comes through immediately. You don't have time to think—the memories are fading even faster now. The flowers on the windowsill sway gently in the morning breeze, sunlight about to flood into the room.

"It's me, Kitagawa Ryo—your first patient!"

You practically shout, then quickly lower your voice, remembering Honami's presence.

"If I ever call you again—no matter when—you must tell me:

'Climb over the windowsill. Jump down from there.'"

"Huh? I don't understand—do you have anything else to say?"

But the line goes dead.

Ichinose Honami gently hangs up the receiver and returns to you. She hugs you.

"Um... who am I? And who are you? Where am I now?"

You seem to have forgotten so much.

But you feel the warmth in her embrace.

Ichinose Honami lifts her head and presses her finger to your lips:

"I'm your wife. You are Kitagawa Ryo, my husband."

"We've been married for 237 days. Our anniversary is in 128 more."

"Don't be afraid. I'll always be with you."

"Mm."

In her gentle words, you let go of all thought—and fall back into her arms.

-------------------------------------

"Hey, hey, Eiichirou, Ryo's been sleeping the whole day. Is this really okay?"

Nanase Tsubasa tugged on her childhood friend Matsuo Eiichirou's sleeve. She glanced anxiously at Kitagawa Ryo, who'd been unconscious in bed for an entire day. Beside him, Ichinose Honami lay just as still. Both were breathing calmly—as if simply sleeping.

"You're the one who insisted Ryo go to Tokyo to find Ichinose Honami. Now look at them!"

Seeing Matsuo remain silent, she stomped her foot in frustration.

"There was no other choice. Since he was expelled from the White House facility at age 14, he's been stuck in a state of memory loss. Aside from his childhood friend Ichinose Honami—the girl who spent his first ten years with him—I can't think of anyone else who could possibly awaken his memories."

Matsuo pursed his lips, staring worriedly at his unconscious friend.

The room fell silent, save for the four steady breaths. Then came a rustling sound—the white cat Hotaru stirred.

"Hey, Hotaru, don't run around right now."

Matsuo quickly moved to restrain the cat, who looked like she wanted to pounce on Ryo's face. But Hotaru growled lowly, baring her teeth like she saw something she hated.

"I heard Ichinose and Ryo kept writing letters between ages 10 and 14. But Ryo never mentioned it. Back then, he wasn't even showing symptoms yet. Now that I think about it—it's strange."

Matsuo calmed Hotaru down and turned his gaze back to Ichinose's face.

"Ryo never told me what really happened in the White House. And as his friend, I couldn't just force him to say it."

Just then, the hospital room door opened—not his father, who had arranged their stay, but a silver-haired girl about fifteen or sixteen. Behind her stood two imposing bodyguards.

"Who are you?"

Matsuo's face changed. Unlike Nanase, he knew far more—his father's job demanded it. He understood just how dangerous Ryo's existence was. If certain people found out an escaped experimental subject was alive, everyone involved—including Tsubasa—would be at risk.

The silver-haired girl ignored him and walked straight to Ryo's bedside. Matsuo tried to intervene, but one of the bodyguards held him back.

Sakayanagi Arisu reached out, gently brushing Ryo's hair.

"To think I'd meet you again in a place like this... Honestly, I thought I'd never see you again. This must be fate."

"We haven't seen each other for two years and 128 days, Ryo."

"Or should I say—"

She smoothed the creases in his sleeping brow.

"Should I call you... Onii-chan?"