The morning of the cultural festival arrived not with a bang, but with a heavy silence. Kaito rose from his beanbag chair, the apartment still plunged in the bluish twilight of dawn. In the center of the room, the white boxes for the new TV and game console stood out, symbolizing both the peace he had lost and the hope he still cherished for the future.
Mai was already awake, sitting at the kotatsu table, an untouched cup of tea in front of her. She was dressed in her school uniform, impeccably ironed. Her posture was rigid, her eyes fixed on nothing. She was an actress preparing for the most important role of her life, and she was terrified.
"Time to go," Kaito said, his voice breaking the silence.
Fia materialized beside him, already wearing a pout. "I don't like the 'Ethereal Form' Directive," she complained. "It's like watching a movie instead of being in it."
Kaito just stared at her. With an exaggerated sigh, her body flickered and dissolved.
"Directive activated," her voice sounded in his head, dejected. "Beginning audio-only transmission."
The school was a hell of sensory pollution. Colorful banners, the smell of takoyaki and cotton candy, the noise of hundreds of students laughing and shouting. Kaito navigated the crowd with the expression of someone wading through a sewer, with Mai following close behind, an invisible shadow in his wake.
Then, he saw them. Student council members, near the main gate, handing out stacks of pamphlets. Futaba's battlefield.
Kaito watched, impassive, as a group of girls took one of the pamphlets. They opened it, their eyes scanning the pages.
"What are they doing? Did they notice?" Mai asked, her voice a tense whisper beside him.
Kaito focused. One of the girls stopped on page four. Her finger traced the schedule. "Oh, they're showing 'The Sea at Dusk'," she said to a friend. "I love that movie. The lead actress is that..." she frowned for a second, "Sakurajima Mai, right? I thought she retired."
"Oh, right," her friend replied, distracted, already looking at the food list. "Let's get a crepe."
They walked away.
"It didn't work!" Mai whispered, panic in her voice. "They... they forgot a second later."
"It worked exactly as planned," Kaito said, his voice low. "It wasn't supposed to be a shock. It was meant to plant a seed."
"It's too subtle!" Fia complained in his head. "Where's the drama?! The System prefers explosive reveals!"
They spent the next few hours in a state of limbo. They walked through the stalls, Kaito buying a portion of yakisoba and handing it to Mai, who ate discreetly in a corner. He saw Tomoe Koga, the girl from the kick, working at a shooting gallery, looking stressed and popular. Their eyes met for a brief second; she looked away, blushing with embarrassment. A problem for another day.
At 1:45 PM, Kaito received a text message.
Futaba: Pamphlet distribution finished. Multiple casual mentions of the name 'Sakurajima' detected on the school's social media. Resonance is building. Phase 1 complete. The catalyst is up to you.
"Time to go," Kaito said to Mai.
The audiovisual room, on the third floor, was dark and cool. Several students were already there, seeking refuge from the heat and noise. Kaito and Mai found seats in the back, in the darkest corner. Mai sat so rigidly she seemed carved from ice.
"Kaito," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm scared."
Kaito didn't respond with comforting words. He just stared ahead. The mission was in progress. Feelings were irrelevant.
The room filled up. The lights dimmed. The projector came to life. The first scenes of "The Sea at Dusk" filled the screen.
Kaito didn't watch the movie. He watched the audience.
He watched the silhouettes of the students in front of him. At first, they were just watching any old movie. But then, the seed planted by the pamphlet began to sprout, watered by the image on the screen.
He heard a whisper in front of him. "Oh, I remember her. She's good."
A few phones lit up, the screens glowing in the dark. Kaito could guess what they were searching for. Sakurajima Mai.
"It's a wave," he thought, remembering Futaba's words. "Many small waves."
He felt a subtle shift in the room's air. It wasn't something that could be seen or heard. It was the feeling of dozens of minds focusing and agreeing on a single fact. The static that always seemed to surround Mai was... diminishing. Reality was stopping its fight against her existence.
The final scene of the movie played out. The credits rolled. The house lights slowly came up. Students began to stretch and talk.
It was the moment of truth.
A boy in the front row stood up and turned to leave. He was distracted, looking at his phone. He bumped into Mai's leg.
"Ah, sorry," he said, out of pure reflex.
He took a step, then stopped. He blinked, looking at the girl sitting in the dark. His brain processed the information. The actress from the movie. The girl sitting here. They were the same person.
"Wait a second..." he began, his eyes widening. "You... aren't you... Sakurajima-senpai?"
The name. He said the name. And he saw her.
It was like the first drop of rain before a storm. Another student, hearing the name, turned. "Hey, it really is her."
"What's she doing here?"
"Sakurajima-senpai, you're back?"
The questions began to surface, not as an attack, but with genuine curiosity. They were observations. Hundreds of them, all at once, all positive, all recognition.
Mai sat frozen as reality rebuilt itself around her. Silent tears began to stream down her face, but for the first time in weeks, a genuine, trembling smile formed on her lips.
She turned to Kaito, her eyes shining. "Kaito..."
He didn't smile. He just gave an almost imperceptible nod. The expression on his face was that of an engineer confirming that the engine had started.
They left the AV room, leaving a buzz of excitement behind them. The walk back through the festival was different. People still looked, but no longer through her. They looked at her. They saw her.
She was back.
They stopped near the school gate, the afternoon sun casting long shadows. Mai was still crying, but they were tears of relief.
"It worked," she said, as if she couldn't believe it.
"The logic was sound," Kaito replied.
He looked at her, the famous actress bathed in the golden light, finally free. Then his gaze drifted, moving past her shoulder, toward his neighborhood.
He could see the roof of his building in the distance.
He could see his sanctuary.
He could see his beanbag chair, his new TV, his new console.
He could see his peace.
"Work completed," he murmured to himself.
The mission was over. It was time to get paid.
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