You thought this was what you wanted: The Author. A blank page. A new chance for connection. But now that you are together, conversation seems to fade in and out between the two of you, as if your words were ghosts. Gone are the inside jokes, the witty observations, the rain, the sweets. Once you’ve exhausted all your questions about where you are and what is happening, you each seem to find refuge in your books, your writings: Aomasa in their magical, shifting novel; you in your doodle-filled tome. At this point, you really are at a loss of what to do. Once you finish your sketches, you simply take to doing what you did when you were bored at school: you doodle in the margins. Bunnies, cats, tea cups, anything and everything just to keep your mind off–

“Hey, what have you got there?”

Their voice startles you. You have no idea if Ajisai is able to move more quietly than the average person, or if you really were that immersed in your own work but, suddenly, they are kneeling right over your shoulder, peering at everything you’ve been drawing.

“Ah, nothing!” You say quickly, and slam the Tome shut. But as you turn to meet the Author’s gaze, your heart stops. That flame of tentative recognition, one which had only flashed across Ajisai’s face a few times since your arrival, has now become the burning fire of sudden familiarity.

“Oh my lord, Shihara?” They ask, their eyes wide. “Urushihara Kame, from class 3A? Is that really you?”

You can’t tell if the words coming out of A’s mouth are delighted or disgusted, surprised or confused, disappointed or joyous. In fact, you can’t tell much of anything right now. It’s as if your body is moving of its own accord: your right hand is grabbing your tome, your left the umbrella, your legs picking yourself up off the floor and running, sprinting, away from Aomasa’s gaze.

“Hey, where are you going?” You hear in the distance.

But you’re gone.

Running.

Running…

You thought this was what you wanted. Ajisai. Bunny doodles. A return to what you once knew. But if it is, why are you so afraid right now? Why did the familiarity scare you?

Why are you running?

You stop only when you are out of breath and your head is starting to spin. You don’t know how much distance you’ve covered, or how long it’s been since you started sprinting. Around you, everything is still the same bright, misty white. But at least, you seem to have lost Aomasa.

You sit down on the ground, catching your breath and trying to think about literally anything other than what just happened. The Original Book is the first topic of interest your mind lands on. What are they doing? Was your hunch about their mental state right? And what about the message that appeared in your Tome – are they really a danger to the Chosen?

As your breathing becomes level, you close your eyes, and try hard to concentrate purely on the Original Book. Soon enough, you are transported to an entirely unfamiliar setting. The structure that looms before you is decrepit by now, overgrown with vines and cluttered with abandoned vehicles. The Book is standing amidst all of this and… are they losing pages? Yes, they are. One by one, a number of their pages become detached from their form, twisting and twirling origami-like to create terrible critters, ferocious monsters and… some familiar faces. Is that a snarling Amar? A growling Kanna? A twisted owl from the Hoot House?

But before you can take a closer look, you are transported back to the eternal whiteness from whence you came. Out of breath once more, you ponder what you’ve just seen, the terrible creatures that await the Chosen in the next Incarnation.

But not you.

You are here. You are safe. You are…

“Shihara!” The voice is still in the distance but, in the mist, you can already see a figure getting closer and closer. In a flash, you get up with half a mind of running away again. But you know immediately that your legs are not about to carry you much further. You are tired – physically, spiritually. Isn’t it best to just get it over with?

So, you stand there, and wait for Aomasa. You don’t know if they’ve ran all the way here, but it’s clear that they sprinted at least the last few hundred meters. As they arrive, they are fully out of breath.

“Don’t run!” They splutter just before bending down and catching their breath, hands on knees, panting.

You regret not running. You feel like you’re about to be sick but, at the same time, you can’t move.

Just get it over with.

“Just, just tell me something,” Aomasa says between shallow intakes of breath. “Are you here… because of me?”

Just get it over with.

“Yes.” You are usually more verbose, but that will do. The word slips out of your mouth with you barely noticing it.

“But… why?” A asks, at least half-recovered. “We were friends, Shihara… and it was nice… but it, it wasn’t…”

Meaningful? Special? Anything more?

Aomasa shakes their head, almost as if they just read your mind. “Well, maybe it was… something,” they continue. “Just maybe. For you.”

It feels like a slap across the face, but Ajisai continues as if nothing of import had happened.

“But I- I’ve moved on! …Although… that being said…” Tentatively, Aomasa’s eyes meet yours. With a herculean effort, you look back. “It can, um… It can get pretty lonely around here. And if you have nowhere else to go…” The Author sits cross-legged on the white ground, puts their book beside them, and pats it. “You could always stay. I’d let you borrow my book.”

You thought this was what you wanted: Aomasa. A good book. Your old life back, pristine, eternal. But then, why aren’t you taking it? What’s keeping you from sitting down next to Ajisai, and taking what they’re offering with a grin?

You try to shake off the stupor and take one step forward. Then another. Then another, and another, and another. You move slowly, if at all. Your legs feel like jelly. Your umbrella trails the ground behind you as if drawing a line across the whiteness, and all the while A’s gaze follows you. Satisfied. Expectant.

But then, you catch their gaze drift behind you. Their eyes grow wide, and they scamper backwards.

“W-what?!” They stammer, and you feel adrenaline rush through your body. Immediately, you turn around. What greets you is straight out of a storybook.

Behind you, you see a thick, black line right where your umbrella had traced the floor – but that’s not all. The line seems to be extending behind you horizontally and, now, vertically, cutting straight through the mist behind your back. Then, like a zipper being unzipped, the line bursts open before you, revealing a familiar scene: a barely-flickering hearth in a dilapidated room you recognize as the Heart. But this time, there is an important addition to the scene: a mirror behind the fire. And reflected in the mirror is…

Well, technically it is you. It’s your face, your eyes, your hair. But the differences are the interesting bit. To begin with, you are not wearing your own clothes. Instead, you are dressed in a real-life version of the outfit you sketched out in your Tome just a while ago: the billowy blouse, the wide pants, the floppy hat, the heels, your coat… it is all there, just waiting for you to reach out for it.

But beyond your wonderful clothes, there is something else that is different about your reflection. Like the woman in your sketch, it is you but, at the same time, it isn’t. There is something more… adult about this Shihara. More confident. Perhaps even braver. This Shihara knows what she wants. She knows what her place is in life. She is full and complete on her own; knows exactly who she wants to be. And behind her… is that the same place you saw in your vision? The new Library Incarnation?

Is this a way out?

“Is that the Heart?”

You startle as you hear Aomasa’s voice right next to you. How do they keep creeping up on me?! You wonder, annoyed. But this time, you realise the reason is quite simple. Ajisai is standing right next to you, but there is absolutely no trace of them in the mirror.

“Huh,” you hear them whisper, simultaneously realising what you just have. “That’s pretty weird.” Then, they shrug. “Just another trick of the Library, I’m sure. Or something ideated by those stupid Monitors…” A says, and dismisses the portal with a flick of their wrist. Then, they offer their hand to you instead.

“So, wanna read my latest manuscript?”

Images begin to flood your mind: A dog-eared manuscript. A pleasant teahouse. Lo skipping away – and with her, the last few months you’ve spent in the Library flash before you. Wagashi bunnies. Wick and the journals. The Monitors. Silk worms. Adamo’s prosthetic leg. The Original Book’s page. A divination session with Alwin. A feral Amar.

That last image sends a shiver down your spine. Everything you learned, the friends you made – are they all really going to die at the hands of the Original Book? Of those terrible monsters they are creating? Could you do something to stop it?

Well, maybe not you, but…

You meet your reflection’s gaze. You know your eyes are currently full of doubt, fear, maybe even a tear or two. But you can see none of those emotions in the eyes of your mirror image. What stares back at you is strength. Conviction. Perhaps even power.

But then again, A…

All of a sudden, you see the edges of the portal waver, and you know you don’t have much time.

So, what will it be?

The past or the future?

To escape or to remain?

A dog-eared manuscript or billowy blouse?

Choose.