Chapter 2
1153words
I walked ahead, followed by a mobile surveillance system radiating "approach at your own risk" energy. I could feel her gaze on my back, dissecting every movement with surgical precision—from my knee bend angle to the trajectory of my slipping backpack strap—nothing escaped her notice.
"Target's walking speed decreased by 7% compared to baseline average, heart rate maintained at 105 beats/minute. Assessment: mild anxiety. Probable cause: adaptive response to my presence."
That clinical reporting voice echoed in my head again.
"Shut up! Stop live-streaming my bodily functions in my own head!" I mentally roared, at my breaking point.
"Request denied. Real-time status sharing is fundamental to ensuring monitored subject safety. This is a highest priority directive."
Christ, is this woman an AI? Is her entire brain just a walking instruction manual?
"My brain is organically constituted, but my thought patterns have been conditioned for optimal logical processing. Additionally, the task manual totals 1,247 pages, all of which I have memorized."
...Mind reading is truly the shittiest superpower in existence, bar none!
I pushed open the heavy iron door to the rooftop as the midday breeze hit my face, carrying summer's distinctive heaviness. This was my sanctuary—thanks to rumors that "the roof access is locked by administration," few ventured up here, giving me blessed relief from constant mental noise.
I made my way to a shaded corner, slumped down with my back against the cool wall, and exhaled a long sigh of relief.
Kurosawa Rin sat beside me with military precision—back ramrod straight, legs pressed together, hands resting on her knees—more formal than a front-row attendee at a royal symphony.
I opened my lunch bag containing a simple homemade sandwich. Not because I'm some domestic god, but because crowded convenience stores are mental battlefields for me.
"Upon scanning, this lunch contains approximately 40 grams of carbohydrates, 15 grams of protein, and 18 grams of fat. Total calories: approximately 382 kilocalories. Nutritional structure: suboptimal. Recommendation: increase quality protein and vitamin intake."
As she spoke, she opened her pitch-black, militaristic lunch box.
I glanced over curiously. Then froze.
Inside was no rice, no omelet, no cute shaped food of any kind.
Just rows of gray, depressing brick-like bars, alongside a small transparent tube containing multicolored pills.
What the... is this? Military rations? Or some premium dog food?
"This is the 'Chronos' No.7 Standard Individual Combat Ration, with multivitamin and trace element supplements. One portion provides 800 kilocalories and all essential nutrients for basic human function. Advantages: efficiency, portability, and extended shelf life," she explained like she was presenting a new assault rifle.
I watched as she picked up one of the gray bars with a straight face, took a decisive bite, and chewed with the mechanical precision of someone solving complex equations.
My stomach clenched involuntarily.
Does she eat this stuff every single day?
No, what I felt wasn't sympathy but pure dread. Anyone who could willingly consume this as food must be wired fundamentally differently than normal humans.
"To eradicate conflict, individual appetites and desires are low-priority concerns that can be sacrificed," she stated, reading my thoughts.
"What exactly is this 'Chronos' organization?" I couldn't help asking. "Sounds like some dystopian shadow government."
"'Chronos' is an armed organization dedicated to eradicating all global conflicts. We operate independently of any nation-state, acting solely to achieve true peace for humanity." Her tone carried unmistakable zealotry—no, more like religious conviction.
"Using force... to achieve peace?" I remarked sarcastically. "That's like fucking for virginity."
"The root of conflict is desire and hatred. Through absolute, overwhelming force, surgically removing conflict sources is currently the most efficient known method." She turned, those bottomless eyes boring into me. "And you, Ayashiro Ai—your 'telepathy' ability has been classified as 'an S-class potential trigger with high probability of causing large-scale international conflicts.' Hence, I am here to monitor you."
S-class? Me? A guy who nearly passes out running two laps in PE?
I stared at my half-eaten sandwich, suddenly finding it tasteless.
So in her eyes, I'm not a classmate or even a person—just a walking nuclear warhead?
Just then, the rooftop door creaked open.
A petite figure burst through, her energetic voice shattering the heavy atmosphere between us.
"Ai-kun! There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you!"
It was my childhood friend, discipline committee member Sato Yui. Her bouncy side ponytail and flushed cheeks gave her an animated appearance, complemented by the pink lunch bag with rabbit patterns clutched in her hand.
"Yui? What are you doing here?" I asked, surprised.
"What do you mean? I came to have lunch with you, silly!" she said matter-of-factly, then noticed Kurosawa Rin. "Oh, is this... the new transfer student?"
A stream of thoughts flashed through Yui's mind: "Wow, she's gorgeous! Since when did Ai get so cozy with her? Could this be... love at first sight?! No way, not for a dense idiot like Ai! But still..."
"Hello, I'm Kurosawa Rin." Rin stood and gave Yui a slight nod—perfectly executed but utterly mechanical.
"Oh, hi! I'm Sato Yui!" Yui quickly responded, then turned to me, her eyes blazing with gossip-hungry fire.
I could feel my migraine threatening to return with a vengeance.
"Kurosawa-san, your lunch is... quite unique," Yui remarked, eyeing the gray brick in Rin's hand with undisguised curiosity.
"This is a high-energy nutrition bar," Rin stated flatly.
"Huh? It looks... well, not very appetizing, doesn't it?"
"Confirmed. Taste priority has been set to minimum."
A massive question mark practically materialized above Yui's head. This conversation clearly made zero sense to her.
"Um, if you don't mind, my mom made extra omelet rolls today. Would you like to try some?" With characteristic kindness, Yui opened her lunchbox revealing a colorful, balanced, lovingly prepared meal. She picked up a golden-yellow omelet roll that smelled heavenly and offered it to Rin.
I held my breath.
I couldn't imagine Kurosawa Rin, this "human weapon," eating something as normal and homey as an omelet roll.
Rin stared at the omelet roll, silent.
In those sharp eyes, for the first time, appeared something resembling confusion—an emotion beyond her data-processing capabilities.
"Report: unknown organic substance detected. Composition analysis... failed. Risk assessment... failed."
Her mental voice actually stuttered.
Then, as Yui and I watched in amazement, Kurosawa Rin slowly—with the caution of someone defusing a bomb—reached out and took the omelet roll.
She examined it briefly, then, mimicking our eating behavior, took a small, tentative bite.
The next second, she froze completely.
Those eyes, always glacier-calm, suddenly widened noticeably.
"...Warning. Taste receptors receiving abnormally strong signal stimulation. Dopamine secretion... rising rapidly. System... experiencing overload. Request... restart."
Her mental voice, for the first time, carried a hint of... panic?
Looking at the utterly dumbfounded expression on Kurosawa Rin's perpetually icy face—like someone who'd just been struck by lightning—I somehow felt... genuinely amused.
Maybe my high school life wasn't completely ruined after all.
Maybe.
