The campus coffee shop was filled with the low murmur of conversation and the hiss of an espresso machine. Hikari sat at a corner table, a copy of a dense philosophy text open in front of her. She looked like any other student, unassuming and studious.
Maya walked in, looking around uncertainly until her eyes landed on the book Hikari had mentioned: *Theories of Everything*. She approached the table cautiously.
"Hi," Maya began. "My friend said someone left this for me?"
Hikari looked up, her expression one of polite, mild surprise. "Oh, yes. I believe so. Are you Maya?" She offered a small, friendly smile. "I'm... a friend of a friend. Please, sit."
The meeting was a carefully orchestrated performance. Hikari introduced herself as "Hana," a visiting student with a shared interest in advanced theoretical concepts. She didn't pry or ask direct questions. Instead, she guided the conversation with gentle, empathic precision. She spoke about the loneliness of being intellectually isolated, the frustration of having ideas you couldn't share with anyone.
"It must be fascinating, talking to someone like Kuro Tarayashi," Hana (Hikari) said, stirring her tea. "His mind must be an incredible place. But also, I imagine, a lonely one."
Maya, who had been guarded and suspicious, found herself relaxing. This girl, Hana, understood. "You have no idea," Maya confessed, her frustration spilling out. "He's... brilliant. Unbelievably brilliant. But he's so closed off. It's like he's surrounded by a wall of his own making."
"Perhaps he's afraid," Hikari suggested softly. "When you can see things that no one else can, it's frightening. You don't know who you can trust with what you see."
This was the core of the interview. Hikari was not just assessing Maya's intelligence or her intentions. She was assessing her character. Her empathy. She watched Maya's micro-expressions, listened to the subtle shifts in her vocal tones. She was performing the deepest, most intuitive background check of her life.
Maya looked down at her hands. "He showed me something... a document. It was... more than just brilliant. It felt... real." She looked up, her eyes meeting Hikari's, and in that moment, Hikari saw it all: the awe, the fear, the fierce, protective curiosity. Maya wasn't going to expose Kuro. She was going to try to understand him.
"Sometimes," Hikari said, her voice a quiet, knowing whisper, "the most extraordinary people just need one person who isn't afraid of the things they see." She offered another warm smile. "It was lovely to meet you, Maya."
As Maya left the coffee shop, a thoughtful, confused expression on her face, Hikari took out her phone and sent a single, encrypted message to Renji.
*Asset viability: Positive. The subject displays high levels of empathy and intellectual integrity. Low threat profile. Recommend observation, not neutralization. She may be useful.*
The gardener had assessed the new flower. And she had decided to let it grow.