Naoya didn't take the train. Not anymore.
He walked.
Forty-two minutes from his apartment to school, cutting through side streets, slipping past sleepy storefronts and alleys with too many cats. His legs ached halfway through, but at least the world stayed quiet. No unwanted data. No uninvited shame.
He stopped in front of the school gate and stared up at the building.
[Environment: TAMA MINAMI HIGH]
[Security Node Sync: CLEAN]
[Network Integrity: 100%]
Safe.
He stepped through the gate and exhaled. In here, people followed rules. Phones were away. Heads were down. The noise of the outside world—its rawness—didn't reach this far.
He slipped into the usual routine. Shoes in cubby, stairs to third floor, morning bell just a few minutes out.
And then, at the turn of the hallway, he saw her.
Short black hair. Navy ribbon. A few notebooks hugged to her chest. She wasn't looking at him directly, but as she passed, her eyes skimmed across him.
In that single moment, something glinted above her shoulder—thin, soft, flickering white:
[Subprocess: ACTIVE SHELL – S TYPE]
[User Sync: STABLE]
[Signal Mask: SUCCESSFUL]
[Current Mood: Unsettled / Curious]
Then it was gone.
Naoya's feet froze.
His own system hadn't said a word. No alert. No ping.
But that—whatever it was—had registered. Hers. Her system.
She didn't say anything. Just kept walking. But her gaze lingered a second too long. Like she had seen something she wasn't supposed to see.
Or recognized something she couldn't unsee.
Maybe she saw my system?
In class, Naoya kept his eyes down, but his mind ran circles.
His system didn't show emotions. It didn't talk. It just watched, measured, labeled. External. Cold.
But that girl's window had listed how she felt.
A system that read her from the inside.
They are not the same?.
What is mine?.
Naoya tapped the edge of his desk. Nothing.
He blinked once, slowly.
[Status: OBSERVING]
[Priority: Passive Feed]
[User Permissions: LIMITED]
Always the same. Always distant.
Why me? Why this?
It never explained. It just hovered. A translucent overlay that mapped surroundings, labeled noise, pointed out odd things like network congestion or sensor drift. But never said why. Never spoke.
Should I supposed to use it? Or was was i the one being used?
He glanced across the classroom. Saw the girl again, two rows ahead.
No window this time. But her shoulders were still. Composed. Like she knew something he didn't.
But she knew that he was looking at her through her system
[EMOTIVE LAYER: ONLINE]
[Pulse: +6 BPM | Microexpression Drift: 0.3° Left]
[External Focus Detected]
[Observation Angle: 216.8° / Line of Sight Confirmed]
[Visual Sync Request: Blocked]
[ALERT: You are being watched]
[System Whisper: "He's not looking at you with curiousity."]
[Response Options: IGNORE | ENGAGE | TRACE]
[Defaulting to Passive Mode...]
She smerked
He couldn't shee her screen
I don't even know her name. he thought
He found her again during break. Courtyard. She sat under the old sakura tree. No buds. Just twisting branches and thin light.
She didn't look up as he passed.
But she spoke.
"You're leaking," she said. Soft. Almost like a thought.
Naoya slowed. "…What?"
She turned a page in her book. "Everything around you. It's sticking out Too much, "
Naoya glanced around. No windows. No data flows. Not right now.
He stepped closer. "How do you know?"
A small pause. Then she said, "You walk like someone who's drowning."
He stared.
She finally looked up.
There was no warmth in her voice, but there wasn't cruelty either. Just fact. Like reading weather.
"Your system doesn't shield," she added.
Naoya's mouth felt dry. "You have one too?."
She nodded. "I've had mine since July. It talks. Sort of. Not a voice, but more like—…" She paused. "Like breath in your ear that knows what you're hiding."
Naoya's hand curled at his side.
"So you can control it?"
"yes, what about yours."
Naoya's chest tightened. "Mine doesn't do that."
She studied him quietly. "Then yours is the watching kind," she said. "You're meant to see. Not interfere."
He didn't respond.
She stood. Her book snapped shut.
He noticed the faint shimmer again. Silver-white. It hovered for a second, above her spine, then disappeared.
[User Sync: CALMING]
[Advisory: No threat detected]
Naoya's own system remained silent.
He watched her walk toward the edge of the courtyard. Her steps were slow but not uncertain.
What kind of system tells you how you feel? he thought.
Or shows it to others? Does it mean it reads her thoughts? Her mood? Her memories?
It made him feel exposed just thinking about it.
His system, on the other hand, only gave him facts. Fragments. He wondered if it even knew what emotion meant.
Maybe hers was for empathy. Maybe his was for isolation.
"Naoya," he said finally.
She looked at him. Not surprised.
"Aoi," she said. Just that.
They stood in silence. Aoi glanced toward the old library building. Her system flickered again—just a sliver at the edge of her temple. No data this time, but something passed between them.
Not words.
Something closer to signal drift.
Before he could say anything, her system blinked one last line.
Naoya caught it out of the corner of his eye:
[External Observer: MATCHED FREQUENCY]
Then she turned and walked.
He didn't follow.
Not yet.
But as he stared at the ground, his own system stirred for the first time that day.
A blue pulse. Low and cold.
[UNKNOWN LINK DETECTED]
[Connection: Echo Signature Present]
[Investigation Required]
[Advisory: DO NOT LOSE SIGHT]
And at the edge of his vision—just for a breath—something strange:
A second window. Not his.
A duplicate of her silver-white UI.
But it didn't fade.
It watched him back.