Mai's question hung in the air, heavy with a deceptive innocence: "By the way, Kaito, where is Fia?"
Kaito placed the empty plastic spoon inside the pudding cup, the slight sound of plastic against plastic being the only noise in the apartment for a second. He looked at the empty space where the goddess would usually be floating, vibrating, or breaking something.
"Archived," he replied, with an implacable serenity, like someone closing an inconvenient subject with a final, definitive gesture.
Mai raised an eyebrow, her spoon paused halfway to her mouth. "Archived?"
"Forced Ethereal Mode," Kaito explained, leaning back in his beanbag chair. He pointed to the new television and then the console. "My peace infrastructure was recently decimated by 'divine optimization accidents.' Risk analysis indicated that Fia's physical presence in the apartment results in a material asset depreciation rate of 100% every 48 hours. The logical solution was to revoke her mass and volume privileges."
He crossed his arms, satisfied. "She is here, technically. But as a pure software entity. No hands to knock things over, no body to trip over wires. Just data. It is the safest form of containment."
Mai looked around, as if expecting to see a ghost. "That seems... a little lonely for her. And can you hear her?"
"Unfortunately, the audio connection is direct via neural interface," Kaito said, tapping his temple. "But I can ignore a voice. I cannot ignore a fire in the kitchen."
He closed his eyes, preparing to enjoy the rest of his evening with minimal sensory effort.
It was at that exact moment that the miscalculation in his perfect logic began to manifest.
"ENVIRONMENT ANALYSIS: LEVEL 4 ROMANTIC TENSION DETECTED!"
Fia's voice didn't come from a corner of the room. It didn't come from behind him. It came from inside. It exploded in the center of Kaito's auditory cortex with the clarity of a 7.1 surround sound system installed directly into his brain. There was no direction, no distance. It was omnipresent.
Kaito flinched visibly, his eyes snapping open.
"TARGET 'MAI SAKURAJIMA' IS LOOKING AT THE CHOSEN ONE WITH A LOOK OF 'AFFECTIONATE AMUSEMENT'!" Fia continued, her voice reverberating off the walls of his skull. "THIS IS A CLEAR SIGN! SHE IS IMPRESSED BY YOUR DEPRECIATING LOGIC! THE PATH TO THE 'SHARED PUDDING ENDING' IS OPEN!"
Kaito clenched his jaw. "Fia. Volume. Down."
"I'm not speaking loudly, Chosen One!" the voice replied, now assuming a conspiratorial whisper tone that, ironically, felt even more intrusive, like someone was scratching the inside of his ears. "I'm using the 'Direct Thought' channel. It's the most efficient form of communication!"
Mai, watching Kaito's expression twist into a grimace of contained pain, tilted her head. "She's talking to you right now, isn't she?"
"She is... echoing," Kaito gritted his teeth.
"OH! LOOK AT THAT!" Fia mentally shouted. "MAI-SAN IS WORRIED! SHE IS LEANING FORWARD! PHYSICAL DISTANCE REDUCED BY 5 CENTIMETERS! ACTIVATING INTIMATE MOMENT SOUNDTRACK!"
And then, the unthinkable happened. Fia began to sing.
It wasn't a beautiful song. It was a vocal imitation of generic romance anime background music.
"Turu-ruuu... rara-raaa... doki-doki..."
The sound had no external source. Kaito couldn't cover his ears to block it. He couldn't leave the room to escape. The sound was born inside his head and expanded outward. It was a form of psychological torture the Geneva Convention would surely ban if it knew guide-goddesses existed.
Kaito brought his hands to his temples, massaging them hard. The "Soundtrack" continued, punctuated by Fia's commentary on the room's lighting.
"This... is an error," Kaito muttered.
"What?" Mai asked.
"The ethereal form," Kaito said, his voice strained. "I calculated the physical risk, but neglected the psychological impact of intracranial noise pollution with no manual shut-off possibility."
"Doki-doki! Her heart must be beating fast! Should I add heartbeat sound effects to increase immersion?" Fia pondered, and immediately began making "THUMP-THUMP, THUMP-THUMP" sounds in a deep bass that made Kaito's teeth vibrate.
Kaito looked at the rolled-up TV guide on the table. His weapon of choice. His tool of discipline.
He looked at the empty air.
If he tried to hit her now, he would only hit the wind. Or worse, hit his own head in an attempt to make the sound stop. Fia was, in her ethereal form, invulnerable to physical correction. She was safe. And because she was safe, she was unbridled.
Kaito's logic worked furiously, reevaluating the cost-benefit matrix.
Scenario A (Current Status): Ethereal Fia.
Material Damage: 0%.
Sanity Damage: Critical.
Control: Null.
Outcome: Permanent migraine and possible mental collapse induced by bad soundtrack.
Scenario B: Physical Fia.
Material Damage: High Risk (TV, Console, Eggs).
Sanity Damage: Moderate (controllable by magazine).
Control: High (Threat of mild physical violence/Closet).
Outcome: Peace possible through constant vigilance.
The conclusion was bitter but inevitable. The integrity of his mind was worth more than the integrity of his electronics. He needed a target he could hit. He needed the problem to be tangible so he could manage it.
"Stop," Kaito said aloud, cutting off the out-of-tune violin imitation Fia had started.
The mental sound ceased. "What? Didn't like the ambiance, Chosen One?"
Kaito took a deep breath. He looked at Mai, who watched him with a mix of pity and scientific curiosity.
"Fia," he said, with the gravity of a general signing an unconditional surrender. "Return."
There was a mental silence. "Return? You mean...?"
"Materialize," Kaito ordered. "Physical form. Now."
"BUT KAITO!" Fia's mental voice exploded in joy. "YOU SAID I WAS A RISK! YOU SAID I WAS EXPENSIVE! DOES THIS MEAN YOU MISS ME? THAT THE APARTMENT FEELS EMPTY WITHOUT YOUR GODDESS'S SHINE? OH, THAT IS SO TSUNDERE OF YOU!"
"It's not missing you, it's target management," Kaito snarled, feeling a vein pulse in his forehead. "I can't hit you with a magazine when you're a ghost. Your invulnerability makes you unbearable. I prefer risking my TV to listening to you beatbox in my cerebellum for one more minute."
"You want to hit me? That is... a twisted form of affection, but I accept!" Fia declared.
The air in the center of the room shimmered. Particles of pink and gold light began to swirl, accompanied by the sickly sweet smell of bubblegum and ozone.
Mai backed away slightly, pulling her pudding to safety. "Here she comes."
With a flash of light and a sound of "TADA!", Fia solidified.
But, of course, being Fia, she didn't just appear standing up. She tried to strike a superhero landing pose. However, she miscalculated the friction of the tatami versus the divine silk stockings she wore.
Her feet slipped forward.
"WHOAA!"
She windmilled her arms, seeking balance, and collided back-first with Kaito's stack of electronics boxes.
BAM. CRASH.
The console box tipped over. The TV box swayed dangerously, tilted... and stopped, propped precariously against Fia's shoulder, who was frozen in a contorted panic position.
Silence descended upon the apartment.
Kaito remained motionless, observing the scene: Fia was sprawled awkwardly over the console box, the weight of the TV box on her, face pressed against the cardboard, eyes wide with terror fixed on him.
"I-I saved the TV box..." she whispered, her voice muffled by the cardboard.
Kaito picked up the rolled-up magazine. He weighed it in his hand. The physical, tangible, comforting weight of paper.
He stood up, walked over to her, righted the TV box with care, and then looked down at the goddess.
"Welcome back to the physical plane," he said, monotone.
THWACK.
He gave a light, almost ceremonial tap on the top of her head with the magazine.
"Ow!" Fia complained, rubbing the spot, but there was a smile of relief on her face. She preferred the physical thwack to digital exile.
Kaito went back to his chair and sat down. The sharp headache caused by the mental sound was fading, replaced by the familiar, manageable headache of having an idiot in his living room.
"The protocol has changed," Kaito announced. "You stay physical. But any damage caused will be paid for with slave labor. You will clean the bathroom with a toothbrush if you scratch that TV."
Fia stood up, dusting off her dress. "Understood! Divine slave labor! It's a common trope in reverse isekai stories!"
Mai finished her pudding, watching the interaction with an amused smile. "You two have a... fascinating dynamic. It's like watching a cat owner try to train a hurricane."
"She is a virus," Kaito corrected. "And I just uninstalled the antivirus because it was consuming too much RAM."
He looked at the boxes. "Now, sit down. And be quiet. We have to plan tomorrow's catastrophe."
The mention of "tomorrow" made the energy in the room shift. The physical comedy gave way to the reality of the tactical situation. Kaito, Mai, and Fia. The most unlikely and dysfunctional team in the universe.
"The contract with Tomoe Koga," Mai said, turning serious. "You said you're going to set clear terms to avoid feelings."
"Exactly," said Kaito.
Fia, now sitting well-behaved (and afraid) on the rug, raised her hand like a student. "Strategic question, Chosen One!"
"Speak."
"If the goal is to avoid love... why are you using the classic 'Fake Boyfriend' strategy? The System has 4,500 story records where this ends in marriage. The failure rate of this strategy for the goal 'stay single' is 98%."
Kaito looked at her. For the first time, her stupidity had come full circle and hit a statistical truth.
"Because," Kaito said, his eyes dark and calculating, "in those stories, the protagonist tries to be a good fake boyfriend. He is kind. He protects the girl. He creates sweet memories."
He leaned forward, the moonlight casting shadows on his face.
"I am not going to do any of that. I am going to be a competent, but personally insufferable, fake boyfriend. I will turn romance into bureaucracy. I will turn dates into business meetings. I will suck all the magic out of the trope until only the function remains."
He looked at Mai. "You said I suffocated the magic with logic in the case of your invisibility. I am going to do the same with Koga's teenage love."
Mai let out a low laugh, shaking her head. "You are terrible, Kaito. But... if anyone can make romance feel like filing an income tax return, it's you."
"Thank you."
Kaito stood up. "Now, get out. Mai, to your apartment. Fia, to the closet. I need to sleep. Tomorrow I have a contract to draft."
Mai stood up, grabbed her bag, and went to the door. She stopped in the genkan and looked back. Kaito was already pushing (with his foot) a protesting Fia back into the broom closet with her pillow.
"Goodnight, Kaito," Mai said. "And... good luck tomorrow. Try not to destroy her heart too quickly."
"There is no heart in logistics," Kaito replied, closing the closet door in Fia's face. "Only results."
Mai left, the door clicking behind her.
Kaito stood alone in the middle of the room, surrounded by his open boxes. The silence returned, but now it was a physical silence, punctuated by Fia's muffled breathing in the closet. It was imperfect. It was annoying.
But it was better than her voice in his head.
He looked at the ceiling. Tomoe Koga's "Love Bug." Tomorrow, he would begin debugging. And he would use the cruelest tool of all: apathetic truth.
"How troublesome," he sighed, turning off the light.
________________________________________
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