XCEL

It took Ibuse a second to realise that something had, in fact, changed. After another flash of white, he found himself humming along the highway once again, at exactly the same point he’d departed. He recognised the overhead distance markers, and the positions of the higher-rise buildings in the distance. His sacred intrusion of his trusty silver Mazda Capella on its profane grounds aside, the road was quiet and still.

His clock, however, was half an hour fast.

Ibuse blinked, and looked from it, to the road, and back again. He checked his watch—exactly the same. How? He’d checked it what seemed like moments before those strange golden gates had opened up. Had he seriously been driving along that corridor for half an hour? It sure hadn’t felt that way.

“Figured it out yet, detective?” Chimed Toshina.

Ibuse swore loudly. “Stop doing that!”

His gaze snapped to his rear-view: the foppish spirit was lounging sideways across his backseats, hands folded behind his head. The blond curtains parted at this angle, but covering the eyes was a black masquerade-type mask, with golden clock hands protruding at obtuse angles.

“My apologies,” Toshina raised a hand. “I find it difficult in this form to remember when I am and am not supposed to be here; all this non-interference rubbish does my head in.”

Ibuse didn’t care to listen much. He was too busy trying to puzzle over the latest existential conundrum whilst keeping himself on the road. “And I don’t care what kind of god you say you’re not: get your feet off my seats! I scrubbed down her leathers just last week!”

Taken aback, Toshina did as requested and swung himself upright into a floppy seated position.

“So?” He asked, peering over Ibuse’s shoulder. “Still keeping a handle on the sanity, detective?”

“Either sit in my backseat or my passenger,” came the detective’s testy remark. “Stop obstructing my rear-view.”

“Oh, fine.” Toshina made a face and disappeared. Teleporting back into the latter position, he peered out of the window—Ibuse wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to see beyond that mask with no peepholes—and cooed at the surroundings. “You humans sure are picky about your vehicular etiquette, aren’t you? I remember when it was considered vulgar for the man to even chariot his own cart; oh, how things change…”

“What?”

“Don’t mind me. What did you think of the Corridor?”

“Beautiful.” He needn’t elaborate. His eyes unfocused one moment, flashes of the serene visuals overlaying his current route. Shaking himself awake from those hints of trance, he spared Toshina a glance. “Mind explaining? I still don’t know whether I’ve travelled through time or been dreaming at the wheel and somehow not crashed for the past half hour.”

“Yeah, see, that’s one thing you’re going to have to let go of—this conception of yours, what you know as Time.”

Ibuse furrowed his brow.

“No such luck?” The phenomenon sighed. “Shame. I had hoped the Corridor would’ve been a blatant enough metaphor, but alas I’ll do my best to convey.” he grumbled, “I wish I were Mitsune sometimes…”

“Who’s that?”

“Oh, someone.”

“Someone I know?”

“Not on your terms, exactly. She knows you—everyone else, too, as it happens.”

“How vague do you plan on being?”

“My nature prohibits specifics; reality would come undone if I spoke clearly.”

“That’s helpful.”

“Regardless, let me ask you: how do you view time?”

Ibuse dipped his chin and took time to consider. “Past goes to future through the present. How cold am I?”

“You’d die, but that threshold isn’t anything special for your species. What do you understand by Omnitemporal Dissociation?”

“Come again?”

“Nevermind. So, you generally view time as a linear? A line, bit of string, continuous progression?”

“Never given it too much thought,” Ibuse grumbled. “Always had a bit too much on my plate to bother philosophising.”

“Isn’t that just admirable?” Toshina clapped. “You’ve used your time well, don’t worry. You’ve helped many, and positively influenced many more.”

Ibuse nodded, any scepticism in him had long since evaporated. The time deity that Toshina was, of course they’d know what his history entailed. “Still got a lot of regrets,” he commented. “Questions I would’ve liked answered.”

“That’s the nature of the human existence. You do what you can; time moves on with or without you. You’ve done your best to move with it, rather than let yourself be left behind.”

Ibuse let Toshina’s explanation lapse into silence as he kept focus on the road ahead. The highway winded slightly as he went, bending and curving like a river in flow. They’d long since left the suburbs—his past whereabouts—behind. They moved forwards, propelled by the current of his own momentum, into the city—his future destination.

Then, it clicked. “Time’s like a river.”

Toshina grinned. “For everyone else? Yes. You’re dropped in at one point, and tread water until you drown further down. Doesn’t matter how fast you try and swim against it: you’ll only end up drowning faster.”

“That’s bleak.”

“Is it? I’m sorry.”

“Are you? I can’t tell a single thing about you.”

“No, really, I am. That’s the thing; humanity has invented so many cultures, aphorisms and figures of speech that I—at least as I am now—forget what’s applicable where.”

“As you are now?”

“Ah, best you don’t focus on that part.”

Ibuse’s eyes narrowed. “And you specified ‘for everyone else,’ didn’t you?”

“This is why I love detectives!” Toshina’s delight intensified. “You have such sharp wits; it’s delightful.”

“I take it you’ve known many.”

“My nature precludes interaction with the physical world, but I have observed a great deal. It’s a shame. The sharpest minds of your kind are never the ones put to paper; misunderstood, ostracised, put to waste.”

“You refer to this nature of yours but never elaborate.” Ibuse turned to face the spirit to add weight. “Toshina. What are you?”

“I’d have imagined both of you would have figured it out by now. You’re the clever sort, no?” Toshina winked at someone Ibuse couldn’t quite see. “I am humanity’s perception of the subject we’ve been discussing for the past… nearly five minutes now. I am the primordial phenomenon of Time.”

“Congratulations, I suppose.” Ibuse’s hand dashed the gearstick, and the Mazda purred underfoot. A small part of him was wondering why he had just reacted to this the same way he reacted to his office colleague’s recent promotion. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Toshina puzzled over this a little. “I forget, have we reached the part where Rinkaku Harigane’s clued you in about the cognitive world yet?”

“That happened nearly a week ago.”

“Oh, so it did. Thank you for refreshing my memory.” Toshina picked up their left arm by the elbow and let it dangle rather grotesquely. “This vessel isn’t as sharp as it used to be.”

“What vessel?”

“Never you mind. So, how simple do you want your explanation?”

“Simple enough that my elementary school-aged daughter could learn and recite it in front of class in time for her group presentation tomorrow.” Ibuse didn’t need more headaches.

“Lots of people think about idea; thinking energy creates deity.”

“Sacchan’s smarter than that.”

“I meant no offence.”

“I’m joking.”

“See, you’re learning!” Toshina chuckled. “Humans have a tendency to anthropomorphise concepts they can’t understand. The psychic energy they exude tends to agglutinate; enough collated energy spawns a representative entity with their own dominion.”

“So, you control time?”

“Control has negative connotations that don’t befit my personal image,” Toshina quipped vainly, examining the back of their hand. “I prefer the term overseer.”

“You… enforce time?”

“Sounds slightly less nefarious, no?”

“Then what’s this whole non-interaction thing about?”

“Phenomena are made of psychic energy. Normal people can’t perceive psychic energy. The only way we can make ourselves known is by indirect influence through our respective dominions.”

“What about people like Harigane, and those other kids? Psyche users—the ones with that ritual knife, you know what I mean.”

Toshina leant forward, face darkening. “They can perceive and interact with us phenomena, yes. Enough about them, though. Let’s steer this conversation back to who it’s truly about here: you!”

Ibuse frowned. “I don’t see what’s so special about me.”

“And that’s what’s so wonderful. You don’t see it, and that’s the best thing. You once asked me why I blessed you of all people, didn’t you?”

“I forget. You have a habit of ignoring my questions.”

Toshina’s smile widened. “You know your role, and you do it well.”

“I was taught never to leave a job undone. A task done poorly is a task failed.”

“Who taught you that again?” Toshina tapped the side of their face. “Masayuki Miren, wasn’t it?”

Ibuse’s searching look didn’t last long. He nestled himself further into his seat. “I shouldn’t be surprised you know about her.”

“Earlier, you mentioned regrets—”

“I don’t regret the time I spent working for her.”

“Nor should you. You should look upon your past with pride, and abandon it.”

“Hang on—abandon it?”

“You are no longer bound to the flow of time as you once were. Let’s use the river analogy. That works for you, right? By my blessing, you have been plucked from the river. It may not seem like much, but you can now walk along the bank in any direction you wish, climbing in and out of the water—or not—as you wish. Time isn’t a river for you anymore; rather, a corridor. Ring any bells?”

Ibuse blinked twice, then slapped his forehead. “How didn’t I see that sooner?”

“Not really your fault.” Toshina shrugged. “That’s why I’m here.”

“I’ve wondered about what would happen had I the chance to go back in time; what could have happened, had I been elsewhere at that time.”

“You would’ve changed your past actions?”

“No. I accept my own mistakes; I’ve got a lot to be grateful for that wouldn’t be the case if it weren’t for them. I want to know what happened to her.”

“So does someone else.” He chuckled to himself. “That’ll be fun.”

“Who?”

No response; Ibuse sighed. “Of course you’re not going to tell me.”

“Forgive me, detective; sometimes, the plot just spoils itself.”

“I’ll find out for myself, then.” Ibuse looked back at the clock. He’d been going the wrong way for half an hour. Now, he finally understood how to Correct his Progression.

Open the Door!

開門 Kaimon

At his command, the wide golden screen doors carved themselves into the space ahead of him and opened. Ibuse saw the second-hand on his watch freeze. Of course it had: he’d been removed from the unending river. He was free to take all the time he needed, now he could finally traverse the eternal evening corridor to whenever he pleased. He’d never be in the wrong place again.

“I’ve got it from here, Toshina.”

The spirit saluted, and faded from view. Ibuse stepped on the gas, and sped through the doorway. The transition into the corridor wasn’t nearly as jarring on the senses this time around. The harsh and steady rumbling of the asphalt under his wheels was replaced by the glossy ethereal floor. The skies still glowed their blissful medley of blues and golds, and the segmented walls with their faint glowing entryways welcomed him home. Ibuse hadn’t returned here to look at the scenery, however.

“This might burn a bit,” he murmured, petting his dashboard. “Sorry girl.”

He spun his wheel full right lock and yanked on his handbrake. The Mazda’s tires screamed across the tiles as he spun into a drift, turning about face. Straightening the wheel, Ibuse paused for breath, for both his sake and his wheels’. All these evasive manoeuvres would not look good on his record, he realised. He’d worry about that later. That said, he supposed he now had the time. His priorities came first, however, and that was Harigane. Revving his engine, Ibuse tore off back down the corridor.

He’d definitely make it to Kawarajima in time, now that he was the one in control.

* * *

“Oh! I see what’s going on here. Don’t tell me you were planning on running away, Hargiane! We were having so much fun!” Meguru Yoha touched down effortlessly and dusted his hands, strolling towards the pair of them. “But, seriously? Picking up chicks while your life is in danger? I respect the hustle.”

Rin deadpanned. “Go to hell.”

“Rin, who is this guy?” Aiko looked between the two of them, backing away.

“Sup, babe? Name’s Meguru.” The man flashed her a grin and slicked back his hair. “You wanna ditch this kid and hit the bar? I’ll treat you well, maybe even better if you sweet-talk me a little.”

Aiko also deadpanned. “Go to hell.”

“Fiery as you look, ain’tcha? Shame, I kinda like that.” Meguru’s foot tapped the ground twice. A seismic crack split the floor beneath Aiko’s feet, and she toppled backwards. Rin blinked, and Meguru was already by her side. Every action had an equal and opposite reaction. Magnifying the consequences of one’s step meant faster movement. Catching Aiko as she fell, Meguru brushed a stray lock of hair over her ear. “Watch your step; ground ain’t so steady around here. Well, how about it? I’ll take ya someplace safe.”

Aiko froze completely. Meguru waited for an answer, eyebrow raised, before another miniaturised car hit him square in the temple. The black Subaru expanded from its frame the moment before it made contact with the man’s face. The momentum combined with expansive force sent the man flying.

The projectile vehicle missed Aiko by centimetres.

Rin approached, his gaze focused on where he’d knocked Meguru to kingdom come. He looked surprisingly calm for someone who had just attempted vehicular manslaughter for the second time on the same man. “Can you stand?”

Aiko nodded and rose with his help.

“We’re getting out of here, now. That attack won’t stop him, unfortunately.”

Before Aiko even had time to voice her questions, Rin saw the small brass bullet—another coin—hurtling towards her! He parried it with a frame.

“Run, Aiko! Get to the bridge!”

A blur dashed out from behind the car’s shadow. Not only did Rin’s car fail to stop him, it apparently didn’t even slow him down! Psychic energy pulsing through his legs, Rin moved to intercept. Leaping forward, Rin slashed down.

Severance Planar

断面 Danmen

Meguru feinted just out of harm’s way, doubled back and seized the boy’s other arm. “Just let me have my fun, kid. You know you can’t hit me, so why even try?”

“That’s a pathetic mentality.” Rin spat in the man’s face. “You’re pathetic.”

“You think so, huh?” A muscle twitched in Meguru’s face as he wiped away the glob of spit. “Glad I never asked.” Grabbing Rin’s left arm with his other hand, Meguru broke it over his knee at the elbow like a twig. The shock of the pain nearly blinded him. Meguru dropped the boy like a wet rag, and advanced on the Aiko. “Now, where were we, sweetheart? Still didn’t hear your answer.”

Aiko called Rin’s name over and over, having stopped just before the bridge.

“Go! Keep moving!” Rin grit his teeth. “Get over the bridge and get out of here!” With no actionable arms left to support himself, he inched forwards on the ground, no choice but to force his face through the dirt like a worm.

“Ain’t letting you do that.” Before Aiko could step foot on the bridge, Meguru took aim with another coin. Flicking it with his index finger, the coin zipped through the air, past Aiko’s ear, and clinked against the bridge.

Disaster Strike

災害打 Saikatsuda

The coin splintered a gigantic crack, shattering the construct into infinitesimal shards. Rin’s efforts splintered and faded into the void, along with his hopes of making it out of this place alive. Aiko yelped, caught between the ledge and her aggressor.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, girl.” Meguru smirked. “Who knows, seems you’re pretty good at twisting the flow of fortune yourself, what with me here to save you and all. Couldn’t imagine anyone better myself, though—” His face twisted into a smirk— “I never forget a cute face. You sure we haven’t met before?”

Aiko hissed something Rin couldn’t hear, and backed further towards the ledge.

“Leave her alone!” Rin desperately willed himself forwards. “She has nothing to do with this! It’s me you’re after!”

“You’re broken. Can’t play with you anymore.” Meguru looked over his shoulder, thoroughly disappointed. “Thought you were made of tougher stuff. Hakana wasn’t wrong, though. It was fun while it lasted. You can have fun dying on that thought.”

With one final effort, Rin threw himself forward on his knees, before his face hit the floor. Silence elapsed, all tinges of resistance draining into the earth. “Fine. You win. I’ll give you the blade.”