The last laugh of the night, a triumphant cackle echoing off apartment walls, faded as exhaustion finally claimed Shou. He'd stumbled back into his room around 4 AM, pockets bulging with pilfered chocolate, mind buzzing with the sheer, unadulterated power of E.R.I.S. He collapsed onto his bed, the monitors still humming their soft lullaby, and was out cold before his head even hit the pillow.
Sleep, however, offered no escape from the inexplicable. His dreams were usually a chaotic mess of code, gaming triumphs, and the occasional nightmare about failing a basic math test. But tonight, it was different. He found himself standing in a field of impossibly green grass, the air warm and smelling faintly of cherry blossoms. A soft melody, like wind chimes catching a gentle breeze, drifted towards him. Then, a voice – light, lilting, accompanied by a genuine, unburdened giggle. He couldn't quite make out a face, but the feeling was undeniable: a warmth, a lightness, a sense of quiet joy he hadn't known he was missing. It was… nice. Unbearably, fleetingly nice.
The insistent blare of his actual alarm clock dragged him back to the stale air of his room, the dream dissolving into the familiar scent of old ramen. He groaned, swatting at the offending device. 7:00 AM. Too early. His eyes still felt gritty from the night's exploits, but the strange, pleasant echo of the dream lingered. He shook his head, pushing it away. Probably just the sugar rush from all the free chocolate.
He rolled out of bed, grabbed a hoodie off the floor, and pulled it on. It smelled faintly of… himself. Perfect. Breakfast was a quick, silent affair: a banana and a pre-packaged juice box. He wasn't a morning person, and the less interaction, the better. Especially before the caffeine kicked in.
School was a different beast from his nocturnal playground. Here, Shou Kaito, the digital anarchist, was Shou Kaito, the quiet, slightly eccentric kid who mostly kept to himself. His brain might be a chaotic supercomputer, but his social battery in a crowded hallway drained faster than a cracked phone screen.
His first class was Math. Great. Mr. Tanaka, his math teacher, was already at the board, chalk screeching, writing out a pop quiz. Shou's stomach did a nervous flip. He'd barely slept, and his brain was running on fumes and the memory of illegal chocolate.
"Alright, class, put away your notes! Pop quiz on percentages!" Mr. Tanaka announced, his voice booming. Shou's internal monologue went from a witty banter-fest to a desperate, high-pitched whine. Percentages! His personal, mathematical kryptonite.
He stared at the first question: "If a shirt costs ¥3,000 and is 20% off, what is the final price?" Shou blinked. His mind was a vast, empty expanse. He could brute-force a router, but he couldn't brute-force basic multiplication. His pencil hovered uselessly over the paper. The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder, mocking him.
Time to improvise. Shou swiftly pulled out his burner phone, keeping it below desk level. He quickly typed the first question into a search engine. The answer popped up instantly: ¥2,400. He mentally filed it. Then the next question, and the next, typing as fast as his fingers could fly, committing each correct answer to memory. It took him a frantic minute and a half to get through all five questions on the quiz. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 8:43 AM. Mr. Tanaka was already half-way through writing the fourth question on the board.
Tap. CONFIRM.
The familiar shimmer pulsed through the classroom, subtle but undeniable. Mr. Tanaka was suddenly back at the front of the class, just beginning to write the first question on the board. The clock on the wall now read 8:38 AM. Five minutes back. Perfect. Shou's classmates were still settling into their chairs, pulling out pencils. For them, it was as if no time had passed. But for Shou, every answer to the upcoming quiz was already crystal clear in his mind.
He picked up his pencil, feigning a bored stretch. As Mr. Tanaka finished writing the first question and turned to the second, Shou calmly, confidently, scribbled down "¥2,400." He breezed through the rest of the quiz with impossible speed and accuracy, turning it in well before anyone else.
Mr. Tanaka collected the papers. When he reached Shou's desk, he paused, his brow furrowed as he quickly scanned the sheet. He looked from the perfectly answered quiz to Shou's nonchalant face, a sharp, deeply suspicious look in his eyes. He said nothing, but the message was clear: How did you do that, Kaito? Shou just met his gaze with a tired, innocent blink. The teacher sighed, exasperated, and moved on. Shou felt a surge of smug satisfaction. This was the life.
Lunchtime rolled around, and the cafeteria erupted into its usual cacophony of shouts, clattering trays, and indistinguishable chatter. Shou snagged a lonely corner table by the window, pulling out his phone. He preferred to eat in peace, scrolling through obscure forums, while the rest of the school engaged in the messy, loud rituals of human interaction.
His gaze, however, was drawn across the room. There she was. Airi Kuze. The new transfer student. She was a magnetic force, surrounded by a swirling galaxy of other girls, all giggling and chatting, her long hair shimmering in the afternoon light. She was everything Shou wasn't in this environment – effortlessly popular, exuding a bright, warm energy that pulled people in. Her laughter, even from across the room, carried a similar lightness to the dream he'd had. He watched her, unblinking, a strange fascination taking hold. She's… really pretty. Like, annoyingly pretty. It's unfair.
Airi, amidst her cluster of friends, suddenly decided she wanted another juice box from the dispenser near Shou's table. She excused herself from her group, a faint, sweet smile on her face, and started making her way over, navigating the crowded aisles. Shou lowered his phone slightly, pretending to be deeply engrossed in a particularly thrilling bug report. Okay, don't look, don't look. She's just getting a drink. Act natural.
She was almost there. Just a few steps away. And then it happened. Her foot caught on something – perhaps a stray backpack strap, or a loose floor tile, or maybe just her own adorable clumsiness. Her eyes widened, a tiny gasp escaped her lips, and she began to teeter, tray tilting, the contents threatening to crash onto the linoleum floor. Time seemed to slow. No. Not her. Not this.
Shou's hand shot out, not to catch her, but to tap the E.R.I.S icon on his burner phone under the table.
Tap. CONFIRM.
The familiar shimmer washed over the cafeteria, subtle, unnoticed by everyone but him. The clatter of trays, the loud conversations, the laughter – it all rewound, snapping back into place. The clock on the wall clicked backwards a full five minutes. Airi was no longer nearing Shou's table; she was back at her own, still chatting with her friends, her juice box still in her hand. The incident, for her, had never happened.
Shou's heart hammered against his ribs. Holy smokes, that was close. He watched her again from across the room. He knew, now, that in approximately three minutes, she would decide to get that juice box. He knew her path. He knew the loose tile. This time, he was ready.
He subtly shifted his chair, positioning himself to appear nonchalant, yet perfectly placed for a casual intervention. As she began her walk towards the dispenser again, Shou tracked her, his eyes locked on her path. When she drew level with his table, just before her foot would catch on the small, almost imperceptible crack, he spoke, his voice surprisingly calm, almost flat. "Hey. Careful. There's a loose tile right there." He gestured vaguely towards the spot where she'd almost fallen.
Airi paused, mid-step, her eyes widening slightly as she looked down. There, indeed, was the small crack. She looked back up at Shou, her cheeks dusting a soft, faint pink. Her gaze was hesitant, then a little surprised.
"Oh! Oh, thank you," she said, her voice soft, the dream-like melody from his sleep briefly returning. She side-stepped the tile, a small, grateful smile blooming on her face. "I almost… wow. That was close. You saw that?"
Shou shrugged, a practiced nonchalance that masked the frantic internal monologue screaming: She's talking to me! Her eyes are like… liquid gold. No, not liquid. Like warm, inviting chocolate. Damn it, Shou, just say something cool! Something witty!
"Yeah, I guess so," he managed, his voice steady. "Walked past it earlier."
"Well, thank you, Kaito-kun," Airi said, her smile broadening. "You saved me from a very embarrassing cafeteria incident. My hero." She giggled, a tiny, effervescent sound that felt like tiny bubbles popping in his chest. Hero? Oh my god, she called me her hero. I could die happy right now.
"It's just a tile," he mumbled, trying to keep his composure.
"Still. Most people just walk by," she said, taking a sip from her juice box. "So… what are you doing all the way over here by yourself? You're Kaito Shou, right? From Class 1-A?"
She knows my name. This was it. This was why E.R.I.S existed. Not just for free chocolate or acing quizzes. This was the real game. He forced himself to look at her, not at his phone. Her eyes really were captivating, an innocent depth that made his usual witty retorts feel… inadequate.
"Yeah. That's me," he said, trying to sound bored, but his heart was doing triple backflips. "Just… peace and quiet, you know? Less chaos."
Airi nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I get that. Sometimes it gets a bit… much. My old school wasn't this big." She glanced back at her bustling friends, then back at Shou. "So, what are you reading about?"
He looked down at his phone, scrambling for something to say. "Uh, just… cyber security stuff. Boring."
"Oh," she said, her head tilting slightly. "Is that like… hacking?"
She thinks I'm a hacker. Smooth, Shou. Smooth. "Something like that," he replied, giving her a quick, almost imperceptible smirk. "More like… digital problem-solving."
Airi actually chuckled. "Digital problem-solving. I like that." She paused, her eyes lingering on his. "Well, thanks again for the warning, digital problem-solver. Maybe I'll see you around?"
"Yeah. Sure," Shou said, trying to sound cool, like he wasn't internally screaming with triumph.
"And, by the way, you look… familiar. I think, I saw you from my dream" Airi said.
She gave him another soft smile, then turned and gracefully navigated her way back to her friends, carefully avoiding the offending tile. Shou watched her go, a strange, warm feeling spreading through him. He looked down at his phone, E.R.I.S still quietly sitting there, its 'CONFIRM' button a silent testament to his hidden power. He'd used it to prevent a trip, to get a girl to talk to him. It was a small, seemingly insignificant moment, but something had shifted. The game had changed. And he realized, with a sudden, unsettling thrill, that he wanted to play it again. And again. And again. Just for her. He had infinite chances. What could possibly go wrong?