The walk away from the park was surreal.
Zeke had made a grand show of "taking Mochi home," cradling the air all the way down the street until he was out of sight. Sora had then gently steered the conversation, not dwelling on the "rescue" but letting it settle, letting the manufactured memory put down roots in Sina's mind.
"Well," Sora had said, her tone perfectly casual. "Now that the great cat-astrophe of the day is over, how about we all get some taiyaki? My treat. To thank our resident hero."
My heart leaped into my throat. Taiyaki. The word was a landmine, a direct link to the real, forgotten Day 78. But looking at Sora's calm, confident expression, I realized this was intentional. She wasn't avoiding the echoes; she was leaning into them, testing the resonance of their new foundational myth.
Sina's face lit up at the suggestion, her previous anxiety completely gone, replaced by a bright, easy smile. "That's a great idea! I could really go for something with custard."
Another direct hit. My eyes met Sora's for a fraction of a second over Sina's head. Sora's expression was unreadable, but I could feel the tension thrumming off her. This is it. The test.
We went to the same little shop. The elderly woman behind the counter smiled her familiar, wrinkled smile.
"Back so soon, dears?" she asked, her voice raspy. She was looking at me and Sina.
My blood ran cold. It was an innocent comment, but it could shatter the entire illusion.
Before I could panic, Sora stepped forward smoothly. "We were here a couple of weeks ago," she said, her voice a calm wave that washed over the dangerous moment. "You must have a good memory for faces. We'll take three custards, please."
The old woman just nodded, oblivious to the high-wire act she had just stumbled into.
We sat on the same bench in the same pocket park as I had with Sina on Day 78. But this time, the dynamic was completely different. I wasn't a strange, prophetic messenger anymore. I was Kelin Ishida, the kind but slightly reckless boy who climbs trees for cats. I had a backstory.
"Okay, I have to ask," Sina said after taking a blissful bite of her taiyaki. "Is climbing trees for cats a regular thing for you, or was that a special occasion?"
The question was light, playful. It was a normal question. The desperate, fearful confusion was gone. Our lie had worked. It had given her a safe place to put her feelings.
"Strictly special occasions," I said, my voice finally finding its easy rhythm. "My cat-rescuing services are in very high demand. I have to pace myself."
Sora snorted into her taiyaki, turning it into a choked cough.
Sina giggled. "Well, on behalf of the theoretical Mochi, thank you. That was a really... a really nice thing to do." She looked at me, and her gaze was warm and uncomplicated. The 'static' had resolved. She now had a reason for the pull she felt towards me. It was gratitude. It was admiration.
"Anyone would have done it," I mumbled, feeling a pang of guilt. I was getting praise for a lie.
"I wouldn't have," she said honestly. "I would have been too scared. And Sora would have just called the fire department."
"Efficiency is key," Sora said, ever the pragmatist. "But I concede, his method was more dramatic."
The banter felt normal. It felt real. We were three friends, sitting on a bench, eating fish-shaped pastries. For the first time, I wasn't the only one carrying the weight of a secret history. Sora was in on it now, an active co-conspirator. It was a strange, powerful relief.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky in the familiar golden-hour hues, Sina took out her notebook. But this time, watching her write wasn't agonizing. It was fascinating. I knew, for the first time, exactly what she was putting on the page.
Day 81. Today was strange, but it makes sense now.
I met the boy my brain was looking for. Kelin Ishida.
He's in my history class.
We met a few weeks ago, but I forgot. He rescued a cat named Mochi from a tree for his friend Zeke.
He was very brave. And kind.
Sora, Kelin, and I got taiyaki to celebrate.
She wasn't just recording facts. She was writing a story. A story we had given her.
When it was time to go, we walked them to the bus stop. As the bus pulled up, Sina turned to me.
"Hey, Kelin?" she said, her voice a little shy.
"Yeah?"
"Sora told me you're really good at those claw machines at the arcade," she said. "The ones with the... stuffed bears."
My heart stopped. It was another echo, a reference to a conversation we hadn't had in this new, manufactured timeline. But this time, it didn't scare her. The foundational myth was doing its work, re-contextualizing these phantom memories as fragments of other forgotten hangouts.
Sora's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. This was an unforeseen variable.
"I dabble," I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
Sina smiled, a brilliant, genuine smile. "Maybe you could teach me how to beat the stuffed bear mafia sometime."
She remembered the phrase. My carefully constructed composure almost crumbled.
"I'd like that," I managed to say.
She got on the bus, gave me and Sora a wave, and was gone.
I stood at the bus stop, the world tilting slightly. Beside me, Sora let out a long, slow breath she seemed to have been holding all afternoon.
"Okay," she said, her voice shaky but tinged with awe. "My insane, probably terrible idea... actually worked." She turned to me, her sharp, analytical gaze replaced by something softer, something stunned.
"Ishida," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "What in the world have you been doing for the last eighty days?"