It began twenty-six years ago.
In Yomiyama North Middle School, Class 3-3, there was a student named Misaki. He was the perfect type—excellent grades, athletic, kind, well-liked by everyone.
But one day in his third year, Misaki suddenly died in an accident.
The shocking news devastated the class. The atmosphere turned eerie.
Until one person said:
"Misaki didn't die. Look, he's right there."
But the place they pointed to was an empty desk.
Even stranger, the rest of the class seemed to believe it too. They couldn't accept the sudden loss of their beloved classmate.
So Class 3-3 lived as if Misaki were still alive. Talking to the empty seat, inviting him to walk home, writing his name on every group activity list. Students and teachers alike acted as though he still existed.
This continued for a whole year. Until graduation day.
In the graduation photo, a person who should not have existed appeared. A pale face, smiling unnervingly.
And that was only the beginning.
…
"I see. I've got the gist."
"You're the calmest listener I've ever told this to. But I suppose that makes sense. This shouldn't really concern you," Mei said. "You don't have any siblings at Yomiyama North, do you?"
"Of course not."
Rinji shook his head.
"Then the story continues in your school too?"
"To be precise, it repeats every year in Class 3-3. Once a year."
Mei glanced toward the ward.
"And right now, I'm in Class 3-3."
"…You mean the curse transfers to your relatives?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
"You accepted that quickly. Most people either laugh it off as a joke or get scared. You're different."
"Of course. I just analyzed the feasibility of it."
"…What?"
For once, Mei looked genuinely surprised.
"The story you told… in practice, it could happen under certain conditions. What makes it possible is this."
Rinji tapped his head.
"You've heard of brainwaves, right? They're real biological electric signals. Tiny, but enough to light a bulb for a few seconds. Since they can be measured, it proves human thought generates real energy that affects reality. Experiments like the double-slit interference and placebo effect prove that much."
He continued.
"One person's brainwaves are limited. But a whole class? If, like you said, twenty-six years ago the entire class fixated on the same thought, some strange phenomena could indeed occur. Like an extra figure appearing in a photo. Machines reacting to mental intent isn't unprecedented. Even old coin-toss experiments decades ago showed a 2% deviation caused by intent."
"…"
In truth, Rinji was just trying to use science to explain the supernatural. In essence, it was serious-sounding nonsense.
"But Takamine-kun, you still haven't explained one thing."
"What?"
"Almost every year, Class 3-3 ends up cursed in some strange way. How would you explain that?"
"…Coincidence?"
"For twenty-six years, it's happened every year in Class 3-3, and you still think it's coincidence?"
"Then it can only be someone's conspiracy." Rinji spread his hands. "Because I don't have much intel, I can only make something up—no, I mean, find you a plausible explanation."
"Takamine-kun, you're amusing."
"I can feel your sarcasm."
---
"So that's basically the story. Twenty-six years ago, Class 3-3 went insane, and ever since then, every year the curse comes to Yomiyama North's Class 3-3. As for what the curse really is, no one said."
"So that means we need to start investigating from Class 3-3 of Yomiyama North?"
Isaac closed the book in his hands describing the customs of Yomiyama and looked at Rinji.
"Then let's dig deeper."
"Dad, how are you planning to investigate?"
"Simple."
Isaac pointed at Rinji.
"I'll handle the transfer paperwork. You'll enroll in Class 3-3 to investigate."
"I refuse."
"Eh? Why refuse? Aren't you at the age to be in school?"
"Dad… I'm in high school." Rinji sighed. "Yomiyama North is a middle school."
"You're only there to investigate."
"Then why don't you transfer instead?"
"…."
"…."
"…Because… I'm already a student at Jindai High. Transferring to middle school would be embarrassing."
"I'm also a high schooler at Shuchiin Academy. Wouldn't it be embarrassing for me too?"
"Because you're not from this era. If no one knows you, then it's not embarrassing. And since you're only a first-year, going down to third-year middle school won't raise suspicion. I'm already eighteen, almost nineteen, even playing a high schooler is pushing it."
"Your face looks young enough. Playing a middle schooler wouldn't be suspicious."
In short, neither father nor son wanted to go to that middle school.
"Seems like we won't convince each other."
"Looks like we can only settle this with a duel."
"Then…"
Rinji and Isaac's eyes sharpened at the same time.
"Rock-paper-scissors!" they both shouted.
They threw their hands forward.
Rinji, in that instant, read his father's hand. The five fingers were just slightly spread—he was clearly throwing paper. Then I'll go scissors.
'Guess Dad has no experience with this game. Then I'll… what!?'
Isaac did throw paper. But Rinji didn't throw scissors—he ended up throwing rock.
Because he found his hand wouldn't open.
"Son, let me teach you something. The true battle is decided long before it begins."
With victory in hand, Isaac turned his back, leaving Rinji only a meaningful silhouette.
"…Shit! When did you put glue on my hand!?"