Across town, in the warmth of the Yuigahama household, Yui Yuigahama returned home from school and unceremoniously tossed her bag onto the sofa. The familiar comfort of her home enveloped her as she stretched, preparing for a relaxing evening.
Her eyes caught something unusual.
Her mother's bedroom door stood slightly ajar—not completely closed as it usually was. And on the bed, visible through the gap, rested a strange object she recognized immediately.
"A game helmet?" Yui crept closer, peering through the doorway. "No way! Mom secretly bought one? And she actually managed to get it?"
A warm feeling spread through her chest. She'd never imagined her mother would be interested in virtual reality games. How exciting! Maybe they could play together!
She glanced around. Her mother wasn't back yet. Perfect.
Yui tiptoed into the room, reached for the helmet, and was just about to place it on her head when—
"Yui."
The voice came from directly behind her, calm and ominous.
"Ahaha!" Yui spun around, nearly dropping the helmet in her haste. "Mom! You're back! I was just... um... checking if this helmet would fit my head? You know, for science?"
Yuigahama's mother smiled sweetly—the kind of smile that promised dire consequences for disobedience—and gently but firmly extracted the helmet from her daughter's hands. "Bath time, Yui. Adult items are not for children to play with."
"Ooooh." Yui pouted, casting longing glances at the helmet as her mother shooed her toward the bathroom. "Just one look? Please?"
"Bath. Now."
Defeated, Yui trudged off to bathe. Her carefree nature meant the incident quickly slipped from her mind once the warm water enveloped her. Later, she'd pull out her phone and chat with Yukino Yukinoshita as if nothing had happened.
Yuigahama's mother, however, stood in her room, staring at the helmet with troubled eyes.
"Things are different now," she murmured to herself. "But... can a game built with lives really end that easily?"
Skepticism gnawed at her. The news claimed the crisis was resolved, that all players had been safely logged out. Yet her own helmet hadn't disappeared. It remained here, silent and waiting.
She sighed and carefully placed the helmet in a cabinet, closing the door firmly. She had no intention of putting it on. Who knew what unpredictable changes might occur? Her life was comfortable now—peaceful, stable, exactly as she wanted it.
As she left the room, she didn't notice the helmet's subtle glow, flickering to life in the darkness of the cabinet.
...
Morning arrived in Itomori Town.
Miyamizu Mitsuha opened her eyes to her own ceiling, her own room, her own body. The disorientation of waking in familiar surroundings after days of soul-swapping was becoming routine.
But something felt wrong.
She sat up slowly, rubbing her temples. The memories of inhabiting Hozuki Nozomi's body had grown fuzzy around the edges—details slipping away like water through fingers. She could recall eating desserts, tasting coffee, experiencing Tokyo's vibrant energy. But everything else? Blurred. Indistinct.
This feeling of fading memory made her deeply uncomfortable.
Yawning, she reached for her notebook—the one Hozuki Nozomi used to communicate with her. What she found there made her blood run cold.
Mitsuha, read this carefully.
First, you absolutely must not leave Itomori Town. Don't even think about coming to Tokyo to find me—you exist in a timeline three years before mine. In my present, Itomori Town has already been destroyed.
The destruction will occur on the day of the festival, when the Tiamat Comet passes. Meteorites will strike multiple locations throughout Itomori Town. The only safe place is likely the grounds of Itomori High School. The hidden world is too far—there won't be time to evacuate everyone there.
Listen carefully. Your memories are fading because the divine envoy's Kamimusubi is running out. On the festival day, before the comet descends, you must find a way to evacuate everyone in Itomori Town to the high school.
If the Kamimusubi exhausts completely, you and everyone else will die.
I'm still waiting for you to come to Tokyo, to start our relationship properly. So please—survive.
If you encounter something incomprehensible and terrifying, recite the incantation: "Eris's chest is padded."
If the incantation fails, use the card I left with you.
You can do this, Mitsuha.
Miyamizu Mitsuha stared at the notebook, her expression cycling through shock, disbelief, and finally settling on pale-faced terror.
"Is this real? Itomori Town will be destroyed?" Her voice came out as a whisper. "Different timelines? Three years apart?"
She thought back to everything she'd experienced—the soul-swapping, the impossible connections, the way Hozuki Nozomi's girlfriends spoke of him as if he were something more than human. He'd never lied to her before.
"I can't do this." She clutched the notebook to her chest, panic rising. "No one will believe me! If I tell people a comet is going to destroy the town, they'll think I've lost my mind!"
But she had to try.
She burst into the living room, finding her grandmother preparing breakfast. "Grandma! Something terrible is going to happen!"
Miyamizu Hitoha calmly put on her glasses, studying her granddaughter's frantic expression. "What's wrong, Mitsuha?"
"Tomorrow is the festival. The comet—it's going to hit Itomori Town! Everyone will die!"
Hitoha stared at her for a long moment.
"Grandma, you don't believe me?" Mitsuha's voice cracked.
The elderly woman shook her head slowly—not in disbelief, but in wonder. "It's not that I don't believe you, Mitsuha. It's that even if what you say is true, others won't accept it. They'll think you've gone mad."
Mitsuha's shoulders slumped. "Then what do we do? Everyone will—wait." Her head snapped up. "Grandma, you believe me?"
Hitoha smiled, reaching out to stroke her granddaughter's hair. "Of course I believe you, Mitsuha. I told you before—our family is special. When I was your age, I also had vague memories of becoming someone else. They've faded now, but they were real."
Her voice softened. "Cherish this connection you've formed. The divine envoy wouldn't warn you falsely."
"Grandma..."
Mitsuha's eyes glistened, but she shook off the emotion. There was no time for tears.
"No. I have to act. Tomorrow's festival—only Itomori High School will be safe. Everyone must evacuate there!"
She ran.
She found Teshigawara Katsuhiko and Natori Sayaka, dragging them into a quiet corner and spilling everything—the comet, the destruction, the urgent need to evacuate.
Teshigawara's expression grew grave. "This is the crisis the divine envoy spoke of, isn't it?" He straightened. "Mitsuha, what's your plan?"
Mitsuha pulled out her notebook, flipping to the pages where Hozuki Nozomi had outlined strategies. Some were crazy. Some were desperate. All were necessary.
"First," she said, her voice steadier than she felt, "we convince my father. He's the mayor—if he announces an evacuation drill, people will listen."
"That's... actually not a bad idea," Sayaka admitted. "A drill. No one panics over a drill."
"Exactly." Mitsuha's eyes burned with determination. "Then we spread the word. Quietly. Make sure everyone knows to go to the high school grounds."
Teshigawara nodded. "I'll talk to my father. If the construction company supports the 'drill,' others will follow."
Time was running out.
...
That night, Hozuki Nozomi woke suddenly, sitting upright in bed with his heart pounding.
He looked at his wrist.
The braided cord—Mitsuha's braided cord—had snapped.
Only one explanation made sense. Mitsuha had failed. The Kamimusubi was exhausted, the connection severed. Itomori Town was destroyed, and Mitsuha with it.
"No." He was already moving, pulling on clothes, grabbing his keys. "Not yet. There's still a chance."
The kuchikamizake. If he could reach the hidden world, drink Mitsuha's offering, he might still rewind time. One final attempt.
He drove through the night, reaching Itomori Town just as dawn began to lighten the sky. Then he ran—through forests, across hills, past Itomori Lake, following the path he'd walked with Yotsuha and Hitoha.
The hidden world. The ancient tree. The underground shrine.
The two jars of kuchikamizake sat on the offering altar, covered in moss and age.
"If I remember correctly, Mitsuha's is on the left."
He lifted the lid and drank.
The sake was sweet, mellow, infused with divine power. No strange taste—only warmth spreading through his body. He closed his eyes as dizziness washed over him.
Red light bloomed behind his eyelids—a braided cord unraveling, reforming, pulling him through time.
When his vision cleared, he was back. Three years ago. Before the meteor fell. Standing where Mitsuha would be.
But something was wrong.
He looked down at his hands.
Small. Delicate. Definitely female.
But smaller than Mitsuha's hands should be.
Much smaller.