A week passed.
For Kaito, it was the longest week of his life. Futaba's plan, while logically elegant, had a fundamental flaw: it required time. Two weeks of waiting until the cultural festival. Two weeks in which his entire existence was redefined by the constant, silent presence of Mai Sakurajima.
They developed a routine. It was one of minimum effort and maximum passive tension. Kaito would wake up on his beanbag chair, smelling the faint scent of coffee—which Mai made every morning. He spent his days playing video games or reading programming manuals, pretending she wasn't there. She spent her days reading books from his shelf, sitting at the kotatsu table, taking care not to turn the pages too loudly.
They didn't talk much. The forced cohabitation had turned into a silent armistice. She was grateful for her existential anchor; he was profoundly irritated at having his sanctuary turned into a recovery home for quantum paradoxes.
The only constant, besides the tense silence, was the voice of Fia in his head, which had become progressively more strident.
"Kaito! She's three meters away from you! The 'Three-Meter Rule' is crucial for bond development!"
"Kaito! She's reading one of your books! Ask her what she thinks! Initiate an 'Intellectual Discussion Event'!"
"Kaito! She's looking out the window! She looks melancholic! Offer her a hug! The System gives bonuses for 'Physical Consolation Contact'!"
With every suggestion, Kaito's mental response was a silent snarl. He was executing the plan. The logical plan. There was no need for "events" or "bonuses." Efficiency was key.
That particular afternoon, Fia's patience finally ran out.
Kaito was on his beanbag, in the middle of a particularly tedious boss battle. Mai was in the small kitchen, washing the lunch dishes. The only sound was the clicking of Kaito's controller and the gentle sound of the water. It was the closest to peace he could get.
"ENOUGH!"
Fia's mental explosion was so loud that Kaito dropped his controller.
"I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS... THIS... EFFICIENCY! WHERE IS THE DRAMA? WHERE IS THE PASSION? THE AFFINITY BAR HAS BEEN STAGNANT FOR SEVEN DAYS! THE SYSTEM IS GETTING IMPATIENT! AND SO AM I!"
"Great," Kaito thought back, massaging his temple. "Then be quiet."
"QUIET? I AM A GUIDE-GODDESS! MY PURPOSE IS TO GUIDE! AND YOU ARE IGNORING ALL MY PERFECTLY LOGICAL AND ROMANTIC DIRECTIVES! IF YOU WON'T FOLLOW THE SCRIPT, THEN I'LL HAVE TO IMPROVISE!"
Before Kaito could formulate a mental reply about how troublesome divine improvisation sounded, the air in the center of his apartment began to tremble.
It was the same portal effect, but without the portal. The air shimmered, like a heat haze over asphalt. Then, particles of pink and gold light began to coalesce from nothing, swirling into a gentle vortex that smelled of cherry blossoms and bubblegum.
Mai stopped washing the dishes, her eyes wide with shock at the phenomenon unfolding in the middle of the room.
The light intensified, becoming blinding. A celestial melody, like a thousand tiny wind chimes, filled the apartment. The light then contracted and solidified, revealing a figure.
It was Fia.
She wasn't a specter or a voice. She was physical. Solid. She wore a white and gold dress with so many ruffles it defied gravity. Her hot-pink hair fell in perfect curls. Her electric-blue eyes shone with divine determination. She hovered a few centimeters off the floor for a moment, hands on her hips, in a heroic pose.
"Tremble, apathetic mortal!" she declared, her voice echoing with a power it didn't have before. "For I, Fia, Guide-Goddess of the Interdimensional System, have descended to your physical plane to personally correct your slothful course and guide you toward your glorious destiny!"
She landed softly on the tatami, a triumphant smile on her face. "Now, Kaito, let us discuss the 'Candlelit Dinner Event' you have been so stubbornly avoiding..."
She didn't finish the sentence.
Kaito was not shocked. He was not awestruck. He did not question the nature of reality. He felt only a single, pure, overwhelming emotion: annoyance.
A voice in his head was already irritating. A source of physical noise pollution, one he couldn't silence with a simple thought, was a fundamental violation of his sanctuary.
He stood up from the beanbag. On his side table, there was a rolled-up TV guide, the same one he used to kill mosquitoes. He picked it up.
He walked over to the radiant, noisy goddess.
He assessed her as if she were a malfunctioning appliance making an irritating noise.
And then, with the same energy one would use to straighten a crooked picture, he gave her a firm swat on the top of her head.
THWACK.
The world went silent. The celestial melody stopped. The golden light particles dissipated.
Fia stood frozen, her mouth open in a perfect 'O' of shock. Her electric-blue eyes blinked, lost focus. A small, almost comical, red bump began to sprout on her scalp, pushing through the pink curls.
"How troublesome," Kaito murmured, his voice perfectly monotone. "You're noisy."
He turned to go back to his beanbag, dropping the magazine back on the table as if nothing had happened.
The silence was broken by a sharp sob.
"THAT... HURTS!" Fia shrieked, her voice losing all its divine resonance and becoming the cry of a child who'd scraped their knee. Tears welled up instantly in her eyes. "I... I'M FIA! A GODDESS! YOU CAN'T HIT YOUR GUIDE-GODDESS!"
"I can," Kaito said, sitting down and picking up his controller. "And I will, if you don't quiet down."
From the kitchen, there was the sound of a plate slipping and smashing on the floor.
Kaito and Fia (who was now on the floor, holding her head and crying) looked toward the source of the noise.
Mai was standing there, hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief. She looked at the crying angel on the floor, then at Kaito, who was already staring at his game screen as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"You..." Mai stammered, pointing with a trembling finger. "You... just... hit a goddess... with a magazine?"
Kaito paused the game. He looked at her, then at Fia, who was sobbing pathetically.
"She was making noise," he explained, as if it were the most obvious logic in the world.
His sanctuary of peace was officially dead. Now he didn't just have a quantum paradox for a roommate. He had a crying, physically present goddess, too. His apartment was getting crowded.
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