After that, Aya and Ayn bid farewell to the police, remounting the motorcycle to continue toward Ari's friend's house. They'd long known the address, because Ari had sent them the detailed location early on, so opening the phone's navigation made the route crystal clear. Ari's friend's home was in suburban Osaka, near a tram station, in a high-rise tower building. The two rode on, finally arriving around 10 p.m.
However, upon arrival, there was no one downstairs, no sign of Ari. Ayn wasn't surprised by this, because he'd never told her the exact time they'd arrive. In their most recent call, he'd only said: "With this damn road situation now, I can't say when we'll get there, I'll call you when we're close." In other words, Ari had no idea when they'd show up, so naturally she wouldn't come down early to wait for Ayn.
Precisely because of that, Ayn took out his phone and dialed Ari's number, saying in a flat tone: "I'm downstairs."
From the other end came Ari's shocked voice: "Fuck, why didn't you say so now!? Wait, I'm coming down right away!"
Her reaction was perfectly reasonable. She'd always assumed Ayn would notify her in advance like before. Over the past few years, whenever Ayn occasionally came to Osaka to visit her, he'd always tell her the arrival time before setting off and keep updating his progress along the way, like "I've reached such-and-such place now" or "should be there around this time." It was exactly this thoughtful habit that let Ari meet him at the station on time every time. Because of that, she'd never expected Ayn to suddenly appear downstairs this time.
So why hadn't Ayn said anything in advance this time? Had he forgotten? No, he hadn't. He'd deliberately waited until they arrived to call, simply wanting to give Ari a little surprise—one that would draw out that line "Fuck, why didn't you say so now!?"
Here's the thing: hadn't there been surprises like this before? The answer—no. The old Ayn never actively created such "unexpected moments." He didn't like surprises; he could even say he hated them. To him, surprises meant "uncontrollable," meant "unknown," and the "unknown" made him uneasy. The past Ayn hated uncertain things and loathed that sense of lacking control, because it made him anxious, made his heart race with panic. And now, the reason he was thinking of surprising Ari wasn't because he'd suddenly turned romantic, it was because he was no longer as anxious, uneasy, or lacking in security as before. Precisely because of that, he had the mood to do such "off-plan little things."
So, why was now different from before? The answer was actually simple: the System and Aya.
The System had given him power, and power brought security—that kind of security that let him fundamentally escape fear and anxiety. Because of that, he was no longer constantly on edge like in the past, no longer filled with dread for the future. Aya was redemption in another sense. She illuminated Ayn's inner world, dispelling the long shadow that had loomed over his heart. Her presence let him feel warmth again, reviving that hollow, numb soul. Loneliness and solitude no longer accompanied him; instead, they were replaced by gentleness and love.
These two forces combined, letting Ayn complete a transformation of heart in just twenty-four hours. The old him often thought in the dead of night: "Living is so painful—might as well end it all." But now, he'd never have such thoughts again. The current him only thought: "My love loves me so much; I have to live well too, stay with her till the end. Even just one more day alive, one more glance at her—it's worth it."
Of course, Ayn's mindset had undergone a massive change, but Ari had no idea about it. So, when she complained over the phone "Why contact me only now!?", Ayn just smiled calmly and gave a reasonable excuse: "It's late at night—it's too unsafe for you to come out to pick me up."
This reason was indeed very convincing. After all, Osaka's security wasn't great these days—who knew what a girl might encounter venturing out alone at night. And though Ari thought it made sense, she still retorted unconvinced: "I'm going out with my friend, and my friend's boyfriend too—what could be unsafe about that?"
To this, Ayn just gave a light smile and didn't argue. However, Ari's words did remind him of something. So he casually said: "No need to have your friends come down too..."
But before he could finish, Ari excitedly interrupted: "How could that be? You're a legend now! Escaping from Ikebukuro all the way to Osaka, you know how badass that is!"
Hearing this, Aya couldn't help but cover her mouth to laugh, though she held back the sound. Why not laugh out loud? Because Ari had no idea Aya existed. To give Ari a surprise, Ayn hadn't mentioned Aya from the start, only telling her he was "going to Osaka with a colleague." Even now, Ari still thought Ayn had "driven out of Tokyo," not ridden a motorcycle the whole way from Ikebukuro to Osaka.
In short, hearing Ari's exaggerated "you're a legend," Aya finally couldn't hold back and let out a soft laugh. Ayn immediately shot her a glare, signaling her to cut it out, but Aya completely ignored his look, just covering her mouth in stifled giggles, her amusement impossible to hide. Ayn, helpless, simply ignored her and turned back to the phone: "It's not that exaggerated... Actually, I have something to tell you. After that, we need to head to Kobe overnight."
This sentence immediately put Ari on alert. As she put on her shoes, she frowned and repeated: "Kobe? What for? Isn't Osaka safe enough? Why go that far?"
Ayn didn't explain much over the phone, just saying steadily: "You'll know when you come down. Bring your luggage and car keys, we'll take your car to Kobe."
Hearing Ayn say that, Ari fell silent and said no more. Why stop talking? Because she sensed something off about Ayn's actions today—that strangeness left her both puzzled and a little excited. The puzzlement was easy to understand: she simply wanted to figure out why Ayn had suddenly changed so much. As for the excitement, it came from a vague intuition: she felt that Ayn might be a Transcendent. Of course, this intuition wasn't baseless; it was based on a few facts she knew:
First: when the zombie crisis broke out, Ayn immediately decided to leave Tokyo for Osaka. After all, most people back then heeded the government's call to stay home and wait for rescue, but Ayn didn't. Second: he'd escaped Tokyo remarkably smoothly. Though this was good news, Ari always felt it was a bit too smooth. After all, zombies were already roaming Tokyo's streets by then—who knew if stepping out meant death? Yet Ayn not only dared to go but picked the perfect route, making it all the way without a hitch. Third: now that the existence of "Transcendents" had been revealed, people online kept claiming they'd awakened such powers.
Precisely because she knew these three things, Ari's intuition whispered to her right then—Ayn might be one of them. As for why, she couldn't quite explain it herself, because she hadn't yet connected these three dots into a full picture. But if she could link them up, she might arrive at a startling guess:
Ayn had dared to leave Tokyo because he had confidence; and that confidence likely stemmed from having awakened as a Transcendent. The escape from Tokyo might not have been as "smooth" as he'd said—he'd probably encountered zombies but dealt with them using his Transcendent powers; and to spare her worry, Ayn had lied about "a safe trip with no zombies."
In short, it was precisely this "whisper of intuition" that made Ari choose silence, and it led her to decide to go see Ayn alone, without having her friends come down with her. However, she didn't fully follow Ayn's instructions; she didn't bring her luggage or grab the car keys. She thought to herself: first go downstairs and meet Ayn, see what exactly had happened.
Though Ari decided to come down alone, the question was: would her friends really obey and let her go meet someone by herself? In reality, would you let a friend staying at your place head downstairs alone at 10 p.m.? Especially with the government-imposed curfew and the city's security clearly deteriorating. Perhaps you would, but Ari's friends obviously wouldn't—they simply couldn't rest easy with her going out alone. Even if it was just to meet a familiar face downstairs, they insisted on going with her.
Besides, they were genuinely curious about this "legend" too. After all, these people had been following the news online closely, well aware of Tokyo's current state—and Ayn was someone who'd escaped from there. No one denied that reaching Osaka alive involved luck; after all, those without luck had long become zombie fodder. But equally, no one denied that mustering the courage to flee in the initial chaos of the disaster was something worthy of respect in itself.
So, when Ari appeared at the tower entrance, what Ayn saw wasn't one person, but six. One was Ari herself, and the other five were her friends: three men and two women. Among them, only one man and one woman actually lived in the building; the other three were temporary guests. After all, in times like these, it was common sense to huddle together: if something happened, at least they could look out for each other; even if nothing did, they could chat and share the worries.
Someone might ask: if that's the case, why not go to their own families? Wouldn't being with family be better? The answer was actually very simple: like Ayn and Ari, they were all foreigners living in Japan, with their families far overseas. Right now, the only ones they could "warm up" to were these trusted friends. And those families far away had probably long instructed them: "Stay with your friends and take care of each other."
Seeing Ari hadn't come down alone, Ayn couldn't help but sigh lightly in his heart. He knew this meant trouble. Trouble? Specifically, social interaction. Ayn wasn't good at socializing—never had been. To him, there were only three kinds of people in the world: family, colleagues, and strangers. He had no friends and didn't want any. At this moment, seeing Ari show up with a group of unfamiliar faces filled his heart with fatigue; it looked like he'd have to grit his teeth and deal with it.
While Ayn felt a headache coming on, Aya regarded the scene with remarkable composure. She barely paid attention to Ari's friends, because in her eyes, they were utterly irrelevant. Of course, irrelevant didn't mean impolite; if needed, Aya would extend the expected civility and decorum, this was simply the poise befitting her role as "Ari's good sister-in-law and Ayn's devoted wife."
What truly drew Aya's attention was Ari herself. She carefully observed Ayn's sister, not just because she cared about Ari, but because she knew "Ari's future"—the future where she might very well become Ayn's woman. So, she paid closer heed to Ari's appearance and demeanor, knowing Ayn liked pretty girls and that only someone pretty enough could pose a threat to her place in Ayn's heart. Then, in Aya's eyes, was Ari pretty? The answer: not pretty. Plain features, ordinary aura, 165 cm tall but weighing 67 kg. By Aya's standards, this already fell into the "a bit chubby" category.
However, one thing stood out especially in Aya's eyes: Ayn and Ari were fraternal twins. Precisely because of that, Ari shared an extremely high resemblance with Ayn. If she just slimmed down a bit, adjusted her posture and height, cut her hair short, and swapped into Ayn's clothes, she'd almost be another Ayn. It was exactly because she saw this that Aya felt an immediate fondness for Ari—as if what she saw wasn't Ari, but another Ayn.
And this fondness wasn't purely familial or friendly; it carried desire too. To put it bluntly, Aya kind of wanted to sleep with Ari, get in bed with her, and share pleasure. Of course, this wasn't because she truly liked Ari—it was simply that this woman bore Ayn's shadow, shared his bloodline, and more valuably, they were fraternal twins. So, precisely because she loved Ayn so madly, Aya kind of wanted to sleep with Ari. Of course, all this presupposed it wouldn't anger Ayn—otherwise, it would be a loss not worth the gain.