The next day at school was... normal.
Kaito sat in his seat, next to Mai Sakurajima. He was, predictably, asleep. The Kamakura outing, while quiet, had completely drained his social battery.
Mai, on the other hand, was not relaxed. Kaito could feel the tension rolling off her in waves. She was in her seat, but not really there. She tapped her pencil rhythmically against the desk, her eyes fixed on the clock.
When the final bell rang, Kaito began packing his bag with all the speed of a sloth, already preparing for the commute back to his beanbag chair.
"Kaito-kun."
He turned. Mai was standing there, her school bag already slung over one shoulder. Her expression was serious, professional.
"I need my assistant," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
[ASSISTANT QUEST ACTIVATED: The Confrontation]
Kaito let out a sigh. "What is it now? More shopping? I deserve a day off for a work-related injury."
"I sent my mother another message," she said, ignoring his complaint. "I told her to meet me today at four, at a café near the old agency. I... I have to talk to her about the contract with another agency. On my terms."
She was doing exactly what Kaito had suggested: setting boundaries. But she looked terrified.
"You want me to go?" Kaito asked.
"I need you to go," she corrected. "I need... an anchor. In case..."
She didn't finish the sentence. In case I disappear.
"How troublesome," Kaito muttered. But he grabbed his bag. Fia's logic was correct: resolving this was the quickest path to peace.
"KAITO! IT'S THE CLIMAX!" Fia's voice was vibrating in his head. "The 'Plot Resolution Event'! Her status bar is going to hit 100% today! I'm so excited!"
At 15:50, they were seated at a corner table in an upscale café in Shinjuku. The place smelled of expensive coffee beans and professionalism. Kaito felt out of place in his wrinkled hoodie. Mai, on the other hand, looked like she belonged, even if no one in the café could see her.
She was stirring her iced tea with a straw, her eyes fixed on the door.
"You're nervous," Kaito observed flatly.
"I'm focused," she retorted. "I'm just... rehearsing my lines."
At 16:02, the café door opened.
A tall, impeccable woman entered. She wore a grey pantsuit, and her hair was styled exactly like Mai's. Kaito recognized her instantly from the digital picture frame. Yoko Sakurajima.
Mai took a sharp breath, the sound cutting through the silence. She stood up from her chair. "Okay. Here I go."
"Good luck," Kaito said.
Mai straightened her shoulders—the actress taking over—and began to walk toward her mother. "Mom," she said, her voice firm.
Yoko Sakurajima was scanning the café with an expression of annoyance, as if she were on a tight schedule. She looked right at Mai.
And then, she walked right past her.
Yoko Sakurajima didn't stop. Her eyes swept the café and landed on the one person who looked like he was waiting for someone: Kaito.
She walked purposefully to his table. Kaito watched her approach, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mai turn slowly, an expression of pure horror and disbelief on her face.
"Excuse me," the woman said, her voice cold and professional. "Are you the one who scheduled this meeting?"
Kaito looked at the woman before him, and then at Mai, who was standing just a few feet away, trembling.
He sighed. More effort.
"My name is Kaito," he said, his voice flat. "I'm a classmate of Mai's."
Yoko Sakurajima's expression didn't change, except for a slight furrow of confusion between her brows. "Mai?" she repeated, the name sounding foreign in her mouth. "I'm sorry, who is that?"
A small sound, a choked sob, came from Mai.
Kaito stared at the woman. The denial was so profound it was frightening.
"Sakurajima Mai," Kaito said, slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Your daughter."
Yoko's face hardened. Not with recognition, but with offense. "I don't know what kind of sick joke this is, young man," she said, her voice sharp. "I do not have a daughter. Stop this nonsense."
"The message," Kaito insisted, unfazed. "You received a message about an agency contract. That's why you're here."
"Ah, that." Ms. Sakurajima pulled out her high-end smartphone and opened her messaging app, looking annoyed. "I received a very strange message from an unknown number about 'urgent business.' I had to cancel a production meeting to be here."
She turned the screen to Kaito.
Sender: Unknown
Café Bresson, 16:00. Subject: Contract.
There was no mention of Mai. The very message Mai had sent had been "corrected" by reality into a vague, anonymous business invitation.
"I don't know what that was," Ms. Sakurajima said, putting her phone away. "But it was clearly a waste of my time."
She turned and walked out of the café, as crisp and efficient as when she'd arrived, leaving Kaito alone at the table.
He remained seated. He didn't look at Mai right away. He knew what he would see.
"Kaito..." Fia's voice was faint in his head. There was no joy. No panic. Just a cold dread.
"This... this isn't good. Her paradox isn't resolved."
Kaito finally looked up.
Mai was still standing in the middle of the café, frozen in place. She was as pale as a ghost, her violet eyes wide and empty, staring at the door her mother had just walked through.
The status in his mind, which had previously read "80% Resolved," was now glowing a deep crimson.
"How," Kaito murmured into his untouched cup of coffee, "troublesome."
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