But the entirety of their worlds was the same.

SHE FIRST BEGAN TO NOTICE it when she was experiencing Ureshino’s memories.

That day in January when he thought he’d been stood up by them.

While he was waiting for the others to turn up, Ureshino ate his rice balls. It was a Sunday and he felt content, and contemplated the sky.

Just then Ureshino’s mother arrived. Someone was with her. A kindly-looking woman with tiny grey streaks in her hair. Wrinkles formed around her eyes when she smiled.

Ureshino called her ‘Kitajima-sensei’.

She was different from the Ms Kitajima Kokoro knew. But she knew instantly who she was. She was just much older than the woman Kokoro knew. In Kokoro’s reality, Ms Kitajima was a much younger teacher, with no grey hair or wrinkles.

As she considered this, she remembered something else.

They’d been hanging out in the castle and she was talking to Ureshino about Ms Kitajima.

She’s so pretty, Ms Kitajima, Kokoro had said.

Pretty? Ureshino seemed to have his heart set on any eligible female within sight – and Ms Kitajima would certainly fit the bill – and so this reaction was odd. Kokoro had wondered about it for a good long while.

In Ureshino’s reality, Ms Kitajima was not the attractive young teacher that Kokoro knew.

SHE REALIZED THERE WAS SOMETHING about Masamune’s memories, too, that had bothered her.

They’re not going to bail on me. I know it.

He was talking to himself, not to anyone else. His voice was wobbly.

They’re gonna come. I know it.

The hand kept rubbing his back.

Something must have prevented your friends from coming.

In this memory, she had much longer hair than the Ms Kitajima Kokoro knew.

This was, again, an older Ms Kitajima.

Which is why she wanted to probe each of their memories.

To get them to show her how it was for each of them.

SUBARU’S WALKMAN, FOR EXAMPLE.

Subaru took a music player out of his bag, connected to earphones, a model Kokoro had never seen before, and in the memory Subaru had been listening to cassette tapes. This player was far heavier and sturdier than anything she’d ever seen anyone carrying around with them.

BUT WHAT REALLY CONFIRMED IT all for her was her experience of Fuka’s memory.

When she played the piano there was a calendar beside her, with the date of her summer piano competition marked in red.

The calendar year was 2019.

Not 2005, which was last year for Kokoro.

AND WHEN SHE ENTERED AKI’S memories, she had further confirmation.

Nowadays even students owned cell phones, but Aki communicated by pager. When Kokoro was younger, her mother had had a pager, which she used to keep in touch with her workplace and with Kokoro’s father, so she was fairly familiar with how it worked. It wasn’t a device to talk on, but to send a one-way message. ‘Pocket bell’ was the Japanese for it, a term her mum used to use.