Reverberations

Suguru Geto discovered that Echo could not only speak, but see as well.

It perceived the world through Suguru Geto's senses. Whatever he saw, it could see. Whatever he heard, it could hear. That night, as Suguru Geto lay in bed with his eyes closed, ready to fall asleep, Echo suddenly projected an image into his mind. It was not something he was looking at, but something he had never seen.

The image showed a room. It was small, perhaps ten square meters, with an iron bed, a table, and a chair. There were no windows in the walls, only an iron door. A yellowed paper talisman was pasted onto it. An enamel cup sat in the corner, a faded flower printed on its side. A notebook lay on the table, its black leather cover worn white at the edges.

Suguru Geto recognized the notebook. Ichiro Nakajima's journal. He recognized the room, too. It was the room beneath the Old Library. He had gone down there, seen the talisman on the iron door, and smelled that cloyingly sweet odor. But he had never gone inside. He had never pushed open that iron door. He had only stood outside it for a while before going back up.

But the image Echo showed him looked out from inside that room. It faced the iron door from the direction of the bed. From the spot where Ichiro Nakajima had lain for forty years, it looked at the door that had never opened.

Suguru Geto's eyes snapped open. The skin over his chest was glowing, the orange patch of light like an eye in the darkness. His heart was beating so fast that he could hear blood rushing through his ears.

Echo, he said inwardly, is this what you saw?

There was no answer. But Echo's pulsing quickened.

Are you seeing the past? Or the present?

Echo remained silent for a few seconds. Then it projected a second image into his mind.

It was the same room. But this time, it was different. No one lay on the iron bed. The bedding had been neatly folded, the enamel cup placed in the exact center of the table, and the notebook closed and set beside it. The floor had been swept, and something had covered the words scratched into the walls with fingernails.

The room had been tidied up. As though someone's belongings had been put in order after their death, waiting for someone to collect them. But no one had come. For forty years, no one had come.

Suguru Geto sat up in bed. His hands were trembling. Not from the cold, but because he had suddenly understood something: the Ichiro Nakajima Echo saw was not Ichiro Nakajima from forty years ago, but Ichiro Nakajima in the present. That room, that iron door, that iron bed, and that journal were all still there. Behind the iron door in the basement. But Ichiro Nakajima was gone.

On Tuesday, the Association's new observers officially moved into Jujutsu High. The scar-faced man was named Kiryū. The other two were Iguchi and Tamura. They stayed in the guest rooms on the third floor of the administration building and appeared outside Suguru Geto's dorm room at seven sharp every morning, carrying a clipboard and a portable cursed energy detector. When Suguru Geto opened the door, Kiryū would raise the detector in front of him, and a string of numbers would appear on its screen. Kiryū recorded the numbers on his clipboard, then said, "That's enough. We'll be back at seven tonight." The whole process took less than a minute. No one talked, no one exchanged pleasantries, and no one asked, "Did you sleep well last night?"

Suguru Geto found this more unsettling than Sasaki. At least Sasaki would glance at him. Kiryū did not even acknowledge him. They looked at the numbers on the detector's screen, the tables on the clipboard, and the spot on Suguru Geto's chest. He was like a human-shaped detector, with no expression or emotion, only data and tables.

At noon on Wednesday, Suguru Geto ran into Yu Haibara on the hill behind the school. Haibara wore workout clothes and held a wooden sword.

"Geto, who are those people?" Haibara sat down beside him, keeping his voice low. "The ones in blue uniforms. I saw them leaving your dorm this morning."

"People from the Association. The new observers."

"That woman from before isn't coming anymore?"

"No."

Haibara fell silent for a few seconds. He laid the wooden sword across his knees.

"Geto," he said, "are they looking for an excuse to lock you up?"

Suguru Geto looked at him. Yu Haibara's profile looked very young.

"No," Suguru Geto said.

"Really?"

"Really."

"That's a relief!"

Haibara turned and looked into Suguru Geto's eyes. After a while, he nodded. He asked no more questions, simply standing up and brushing the dirt from his pants.

"Geto, I'm going to train. Nanami's waiting for me."

With that, he ran down the slope, his steps quick.

Echo, he said inwardly, did you see him? That kid. His name is Haibara.

Echo pulsed once.

I saved him. In another timeline, he died. In this timeline, he's alive.

Echo pulsed again. This time, the rhythm was different: slower, as though it were thinking.

Then it projected an image into his mind.

The image showed Yu Haibara. But not the Yu Haibara of the present. This was another Yu Haibara. He wore his Jujutsu High uniform and stood in darkness, with no wooden sword in his hand and no one beside him. There was no smile on his face, only fear.

Suguru Geto opened his eyes. His throat tightened.

Echo did not answer. But the image lingered in his mind for a long time, so long that whenever Suguru Geto closed his eyes, he could see Yu Haibara standing alone in the darkness.

On Thursday, Suguru Geto went to the infirmary for his weekly checkup. Shoko attached probes to his chest, arms, and neck, then switched on the old detector. Waveforms flickered across the screen. Shoko frowned as she watched them.

"Has anything changed with Echo lately?"

"It's been showing me images," Suguru Geto said. "It can see things I can't."

Shoko's fingers paused over the keyboard. "What do you mean?"

"It can see the past. Maybe other things, too. I don't know."

Shoko was silent for a few seconds. She did not ask, "How do you know?" Nor did she say, "That's impossible." She simply lowered her head and continued operating the equipment, recording the data.

"Geto," she said, "is Echo growing?"

Suguru Geto closed his eyes and looked inward for a moment.

"No. It's still the size of two fists."

"Is it consuming your cursed energy?"

"Yes. But very little. Usually, I can barely feel it. It only absorbs large amounts when probing cursed energy is injected."

Shoko removed the probes and jotted a few notes in her record book. Her handwriting was so sloppy that Suguru Geto could only make out a few phrases: "stable," "no abnormalities," and "continued observation recommended."

"Shoko," Suguru Geto said, "do you believe Echo is conscious?"

Shoko set down her pen and looked at him.

"Do you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then that's enough."

Suguru Geto sat up on the bed and put on his shoes. As he reached the door, Shoko called him back.

"Geto."

He stopped.

"Those images Echo shows you-are they good or bad?"

Suguru Geto thought for a moment. "Neutral. It isn't telling me whether they're good or bad. It's just telling me these things existed."

Shoko nodded. She took a cigarette out of her pocket and held it between her lips without lighting it.

"Then don't overthink it. Whatever it shows you, watch. When you're done, get on with your life."

Suguru Geto smiled and left the infirmary.

On Friday night, Suguru Geto wrote in his diary in his dorm room. This diary was not for anyone else to read. He wrote the date in his notebook, then added: "Echo showed me an image today. It was Shoko. She was sitting by the infirmary window, holding a lit cigarette and looking outside. But beyond the window wasn't Jujutsu High's athletic field. It was somewhere Suguru Geto had never seen. A stretch of sea. Shoko gazed at it, her face expressionless. She took a drag on her cigarette and slowly exhaled. The smoke drifted over the sea and soon vanished. I don't know why Echo wanted to show me this. Maybe it wanted to tell me Shoko has a sea inside her heart. Maybe it just wanted to tell me what she thinks about when she smokes."

He closed the notebook and set it beside his pillow. He turned off the light and lay down. The skin over his chest began to glow.

Echo, he said inwardly, what did you see today?

Silence.

What did you see that I didn't?

Echo pulsed once. Then it projected an image into his mind.

The image showed Satoru Gojo. He wore his black Jujutsu High uniform, without sunglasses. He stood amid ruins, surrounded by collapsed buildings and burning flames. His hands were covered in blood. It was not his own.

His head was lowered as he stared at his hands. He looked at them for a long time. Then he raised his head and looked at the sky. There was no light in those Six Eyes.

Suguru Geto's heart clenched.

Echo, when is this? Another timeline?

Echo did not answer.

Satoru Gojo stood motionless in that expanse of white.

Suguru Geto opened his eyes. Tear tracks marked his face. He was not the one crying. Echo was. He could feel the grief welling up from deep within its core. As though someone inside his chest were covering their face, their shoulders trembling, unable to make a sound.

Echo, Suguru Geto said inwardly, that wasn't your fault.

Echo's pulsing grew rapid.

That wasn't your fault, Suguru Geto repeated. He pressed his hand firmly against his chest, as though embracing someone he could not see.

Echo's pulsing slowed. Gradually, little by little, it returned to its usual rhythm. Neither fast nor slow, as though saying: Okay.