Science class was… tolerable.
At least compared to math.
Mr. Hoshino scribbled across the board, chalk squeaking as he drew a grid and then a sphere. "Now, class, let's review dimensional theory. As you all know, our world doesn't stop at the three dimensions we can see."
He tapped the chalk against the board. "Length, width, height—that's child's play. Scientists, philosophers, and espers have long debated how many dimensions actually exist. Any guesses?"
A few hands went up. Some mumbled, "Four." Others, "Five." Someone even said, "Eleven," parroting something they probably read online.
I almost laughed. Cute.
Ren leaned toward me, whispering, "You know the answer, don't you?" His grin dared me to show off again.
I shrugged. "Maybe."
Mr. Hoshino's eyes landed on me. "Amamiya. Since you seem very confident, why don't you tell us?"
The whole class turned. I sighed, stood, and walked to the board. "Actually, the real answer is seventeen."
A wave of confused murmurs rippled through the room.
"Seventeen?" Mr. Hoshino raised an eyebrow. "That's… not exactly in the textbook."
I ignored him, picked up a piece of chalk, and started writing. "Space itself has ten dimensions. Think of it like threads stacked on threads, directions folded into directions. Three we live in, seven hidden beyond perception. Then there's time—seven layers of it."
I drew two columns: Space (10D) and Time (7D), circling them and connecting them with a line. "Together, they form a seventeen-dimensional space-time continuum. That's the actual framework of our world."
The classroom went still.
Ren muttered, "And people call me a show-off."
I tapped the board again. "Most of you think time is just one arrow, right? Past, present, future. But that's just the surface. Each layer of time flows differently, stacked like sheets of glass. Sometimes they bend, sometimes they intersect. And when they collide…"
I hesitated, thinking of the quakes. "…you get disturbances. Space-time quakes. Cracks in the continuum itself."
Still silence. Even Mr. Hoshino didn't interrupt.
I set the chalk down. "That's why the planet is wrapped in something called the Dimensional Barrier. Without it, the unstable friction of seventeen dimensions would've torn this Planet apart long ago. Each quake is the barrier holding back something bigger—something that doesn't belong here."
One of my classmates raised a trembling hand. "Uh… Amamiya, how do you even know this?"
I gave them a faint smile. "I just… see it. The laws that hold reality together. It's kind of my thing."
Ren chuckled. "Yeah, don't worry. He's not lying."
Mr. Hoshino cleared his throat loudly, finally breaking the silence. "Well… that was certainly… imaginative. Everyone, remember—on the test, we'll stick with the textbook's four dimensions."
The class burst into laughter, but I wasn't laughing.
Because at that exact moment, I felt it again: a ripple outside the walls of our classroom. Space twisting. Time stuttering. Seventeen layers shifting against one another, straining against the Dimensional Barrier.
And for a moment, I saw them—shards of higher reality glinting like broken glass across the sky.
I clenched my fist under the desk.
Whatever was pressing against the barrier… wasn't stopping.