A thin veil of mist still clung to the pines when Souta Minakawa rose before dawn. Slippers silent on the wooden floor, he moved to the sliding shoji door that opened onto his small veranda, breathing in the cool, damp air of Hoshinaka Village. The first light had not yet broken, but he could sense a faint glow behind his eyelids—an extension of the system interface that had become as natural as his own heartbeat.
He bowed his head for a moment of silent meditation, centering his thoughts on the day to come. Then, with practiced calm, he reached out mentally and summoned the system HUD.
A translucent panel blossomed before his vision, pale gold lines tracing parameters he'd already memorized:
[Host: Minakawa Souta]
• Age: 39
• Biological Cap: 53 Years
• Brain Processing Power: 1.1x
• Life Points: 2.5
• Followers: 3
Below, a secondary panel displayed ongoing environmental metrics:
[Environmental Anomaly Field: Fluctuating]
[Node Network Scan: Fragmented Signal Detected]
• Approximate Node 2 Coordinates: 35.467° N, 138.678° E (Northeastern Forest Ridge)
Souta's breath caught. Last night's faint resonance ripples had intensified enough for the system to triangulate a rough location. He traced an invisible map in his mind: a thin line running from the old shrine on the mountainside, through the eastern edge of the village, and now toward the dense grove of pines lining the school's perimeter.
He closed the environmental panel, letting the overall interface remain. Next, he tapped to expand the Follower Panel. Three names appeared, each with accompanying metrics:
[Follower: Yamada Koji]
• Brain Power: 0.8x
• Life Points: 1.8 → 2.0 (+0.2 LP Passive Gain)
• Link Quality: Strengthening
• Task: Maintain plant observation logs. Optional: hypothesize plant behavior under variable conditions.
[Follower: Kana Ishikawa]
• Brain Power: 0.7x
• Life Points: 1.0 → 1.2 (+0.2 LP Passive Gain)
• Link Quality: Stable
• Task: Analyze classmate survey data on curiosity and intelligence motivation.
[Follower: Takeshi Murata]
• Brain Power: 0.55x
• Life Points: 0.9 → 1.1 (+0.2 LP Passive Gain)
• Link Quality: Stable
• Task: Repair science lab tools. Document learning outcomes per item.
Passive task activity had awarded each student +0.2 LP since their last major report.
[Updated LP Totals After Passive Gains]
• Souta Minakawa: 2.5 → 2.8 LP (Resonance Return +0.3)
• Yamada Koji: 1.8 → 2.0 LP
• Kana Ishikawa: 1.0 → 1.2 LP
• Takeshi Murata: 0.9 → 1.1 LP
Souta's own Life Points ticked up from 2.5 to 2.8.
He watched the numbers fade as another line of data caught his eye.
[Node Signature Detected – Approximate Location: Northeastern Forest Ridge]
So, the second node was stirring.
Souta remained motionless for a few moments, letting the pulsing glow fade behind his vision. He returned to the edge of the veranda, where the first tendrils of dawn muted the horizon in soft pastels. He placed a hand on the wooden rail, grounding himself in the real world—damp earth, pine scent, distant chirps of waking birds.
"They're ready to know more," he thought, recalling the glow of Node 2's approximation. "But can they handle what comes next?"
He closed his eyes. A quiet memory surfaced: the rush of light, the burning cold on his palm, the moment Node 1 had activated. If Node 2 was still dormant, its signature weaker but moving toward awakening, he needed to decide his next step. The system had already recommended contact within a certain window. Was it time? Or was it safer to observe a little longer?
He opened his eyes and tapped a final line on the interface:
[Reminder: Initiate Contact Protocol – Optional]
[Warning: Unknown Consequences Possible – Use Caution]
Souta lingered, letting the reminder hover. He could almost feel the node's resonance whispering beneath the pine needles, weaving a silent invitation through the morning air.
Then, without announcing it to anyone, he pressed "Dismiss"—for now. The node would wait. He still needed to prepare: to ensure that Kana, Yamada, and Takeshi understood nothing overtly until it was necessary; and to keep Ryoko's trust intact, even as he delved deeper into the unknown.
He closed the interface fully and walked back inside, rolling the shoji door open just enough to warm his tea cup in a stray sunbeam. As the first students began drifting into the courtyard, Souta collected his backpack and headed out the door, determined to oversee the day in characteristic calm.
The morning at Hoshinaka Senior High School would begin soon. But as the mist cleared, the weight of that suppressed decision echoed quietly behind his every step—like a distant drumbeat calling him toward the pines.
The first bell rang within the echoing halls of Hoshinaka Senior High School, sending students to their morning classes. Souta Minakawa slipped quietly into Classroom 2-B—his footsteps nearly silent on the polished floor—and took his place at the front. He surveyed the room at a glance. Desks were arranged in neat rows, but three desks in particular drew his attention: the one by the window where Yamada Koji sat, the one opposite in the middle row where Kana Ishikawa busied herself with notes, and the back-corner desk where Takeshi Murata fidgeted with a small copper coil clutched in his palm. Everything about their posture and expression struck him as both normal and subtly off—like three ripples on a pond that refused to settle.
Yamada's gaze lingered on the canopy of pines outside, the same trees that nodded faintly at dawn. His pen hovered mid-air above his notebook, untouched. When his biology teacher announced a brief pop quiz on leaf stomata and photosynthesis, Yamada slid a hand to his chin as if calculating—yet when he answered, his voice sounded calm, almost somber, as though reciting a memorized verse rather than sharing a practiced fact. Once done, he returned to staring out the window again, eyes tracing the shifting patterns of sunlight through the branches. It wasn't that he lacked focus—his answer was correct—but there was a distant quality to his demeanor, as if only a fraction of his mind was truly in the classroom.
Kana's seat was two rows to his left. She tapped her brace of pencils against her palm, a habit she hadn't indulged before. When the teacher asked for volunteers to explain osmosis, Kana raised her hand and spoke with confident clarity—far beyond her usual measured tone. Yet halfway through, her words faltered, and she bit her lip, closing her eyes for a moment. She pressed her fingers to her temples before straightening her shoulders and continuing. Anyone glancing her way would think her perfectly composed; only Souta saw the flicker of unease in her eyes as she steeled herself to finish. Afterward, she placed a hastily-drawn circle in the margin of her notebook, scribbled something too small to read, and tucked the paper away.
In the back corner sat Takeshi, the once-rowdy boy who now held a meticulously coiled strand of copper wire as though it were a lifeline. He leaned forward, listening to the teacher's instructions on a physics lab experiment involving electromagnets—an experiment that would normally be simple but now triggered a flicker of nervousness in him. His fingers trembled as he traced a faint pattern on his desk: a stylized root branching into veins that pulsed at the same frequency his mind had started to sense. Whenever a classmate opened a window or a door creaked, Takeshi's head jerked toward the sound, as if he expected the world itself to speak.
No one in Classroom 2-B remarked aloud on these oddities. Their classmates busied themselves with assignments or whispered about weekend plans. But Souta noted the trio's synchronized gestures—Yamada's gaze shifting north, Kana's silent frown, Takeshi's restless tapping. He closed his mental map of their metrics and let the lesson proceed, aware that something had changed: the forest's influence was seeping into their awareness.
As the morning period ended, students spilled into the hallway. Souta lingered to gather his books, then slipped out the door. At that moment, Ryoko Shibata emerged from the teachers' lounge just across the landing. She paused in the doorway of Classroom 2-B, folding her arms as she observed the trio filing past.
She offered a polite smile to Souta. "Good morning," she murmured, voice low. Before he could reply, she followed him out into the corridor.
"Did you see them?" she asked quietly, nodding toward the classroom. "Yamada, Kana, Takeshi—something… changed this morning."
Souta inclined his head. "I saw." He lowered his voice. "You've noticed too."
Ryoko's expression was serious. "Their behavior is more coordinated than simple concentration. I've seen them distracted before, but not like this. They're… attuned to something I can't name."
Souta weighed his words carefully. "They're resonating. But not with anything in the school. Something in the forest is calling them."
Ryoko's eyes narrowed. "The forest? Do you think it's connected to the strange disturbances in the village? Last night, Mrs. Fujimoto told me her wind chimes were spinning in dead air. And Mr. Daisuke said his radio began playing static that resolved into… a melody. I brush these off as quirks, but now—seeing the students—there must be a link."
He nodded. "There is. But it's deeper than an electrical glitch or animal behavior. The system's node signature is shifting. They felt it, even if they can't articulate it yet."
Ryoko pressed her lips together, uncertainty flickering across her features. "If this is the case, and the children are affected—what will happen next? Should we keep them in class, or protect them from going too far?"
Souta placed a hand on her arm. "For now, maintain normalcy. They need routine more than protection. And we need to know exactly what they're experiencing before we pull them back. They'll start exploring on their own; we can't stop that, but we can guide and monitor."
Ryoko nodded again. "Guide and monitor. Understood."
They watched as the trio moved down the hallway, exchanging low-volume whispers. Souta noted that Yamada still held his gaze on the pines, hushed awe in his posture. Kana walked with a purposeful stride, but her eyes scanned the corridors, searching. Takeshi's fingers tapped a private rhythm against his thigh—no longer a simple nervous tick, but the echo of something unspoken.
Ryoko folded her arms. "And the rest of the students—are they aware?"
Souta turned to her. "Not yet. Just a handful of rumors: flickering lights, odd dreams. But nothing definitive. Most believe it's simple stress or rumor. Let's keep it that way until we know more."
Ryoko nodded. "I'll speak with the other teachers, caution them not to pry too deeply in front of the kids."
He gave a small, appreciative nod. "Thank you. And please, if you hear anything new, let me know immediately."
The hall cleared as the lunch bell rang. Souta and Ryoko parted—he to return to Classroom 2-B for the next period, she to consult her private journal in the faculty lounge. Meanwhile, Yamada paused under a flickering fluorescent light in the stairwell, pressing a hand to his chest where the pulse felt strongest. Kana leaned against a locker, fingertips tracing invisible lines on the door, as though charting the unseen forces moving through the school. Takeshi, near the window, slid the copper coil out of his pocket and held it softly, eyes closed as he concentrated on the faint resonance buzzing between the coil's turns.
Each sensed a thread weaving them together—an echo beneath the pines that none could yet fully explain.