It starts the way all disasters do — with a single whisper.
By second period, that whisper multiplies into laughter.
By lunch, it's a headline.
"Aisha Kurozawa is dating Kai Isaragi!"
I hear it from three different classmates, two vending machines, and one school drone that somehow picked up the tag on social feed.
[System alert: Public status alteration detected.]
[Query: Should I initiate Reputation Defense Protocol?]
"No," I hiss. "You'll make it worse."
[Counterpoint: False data must be corrected to maintain operational secrecy.]
"Yeah, well, welcome to high school. False data is the culture."
Kira nearly falls out of his chair laughing.
"Bro, I leave you alone for one night and you turn a wiring project into a love confession?"
"Wasn't me."
"Sure. And I'm secretly a pop idol."
He points toward the hallway where Aisha's surrounded by curious students.
She looks composed, but her eyes flick toward me briefly, silently apologizing.
Then she steps forward and says, loud enough for everyone:
"It's true."
The hallway detonates into noise.
I freeze. "What did you just—?"
She walks up beside me, calm, deliberate.
"If I deny it, the stalker keeps following me. If I confirm it, he backs off."
"That's your plan?"
"Unless you have a better one, boyfriend."
[New mission objective confirmed: Protect target through fabricated romantic engagement.]
[Status: ACTIVE.]
"Don't you dare mark this as a mission," I mutter.
[Processing: Mission tagged 'Operation: Fake Boyfriend.']
Aisha hides a small smile. "You really do talk to yourself."
By the end of the day, the entire school runs on gossip-fueled energy.
Some students cheer us on, others glare like we just disrupted the social food chain.
Then, of course, the "incident" happens.
During cleanup duty, an older student — tall, athletic, self-proclaimed Kendo prodigy named Toma Arikawa — slams a broom onto my desk.
"So you're the guy playing hero, huh?"
"I just fix wires," I reply.
He snorts. "She turned down half the guys in this school. Now she says you?"
[Warning: aggressive stance detected.]
[Suggested action: de-escalate.]
Toma points at the courtyard. "Prove you're not a coward. Spar with me. If you win, fine — I'll drop it. Lose, and stay away from her."
Aisha appears in the doorway, eyes sharp. "Toma, this isn't a movie."
"Then it's real life," he says. "And real guys don't hide behind words."
[Mission conflict: protecting Subject's emotional safety versus maintaining cover.]
[Recommendation: limited engagement. Do not expose non-human abilities.]
I sigh. "Fine. Just a friendly match."
The courtyard crowds up fast — students circling, chanting, recording with their comm lenses.
Kira whispers beside me, "You sure about this?"
"No."
[Battle simulation activated.]
[Limiters engaged.]
Toma charges first — wooden sword slicing air.
I sidestep, slow enough to look human, fast enough to avoid the hit.
The System hums under my skin, feeding me readouts:
[Trajectory 22°, force 60N, intent 78%.]
I duck the second swing, grab the broom, twist.
The world narrows — instincts, motion, focus.
His weapon clatters to the ground.
The crowd gasps.
[Engagement complete.]
[Result: victory achieved within human thresholds.]
I lower the broom slowly. "Guess I passed."
Toma stares, panting — not angry now, just stunned.
Aisha steps between us. "Enough. This isn't about pride."
He nods after a long silence. "Didn't think you had that kind of reflex."
"I didn't either," I say truthfully.
The crowd disperses, half disappointed, half impressed.
Aisha turns to me, eyes soft.
"Nice work, fake boyfriend."
"Nice timing, real troublemaker."
[Emotional field stabilized.]
[Observation: team synergy achieved.]
Kira claps once. "That. Was. Awesome. We're totally forming a defense club."
I sigh. "Don't start."
[Log saved: Operation success.]
[New subroutine: Confidence module unlocked.]
And though I'd never admit it aloud, for the first time since waking in that morgue —
the applause feels like proof I actually exist.
The next morning, there's a new poster on the class bulletin board:
JOIN THE SELF-DEFENSE COMMITTEE!
Motto: Protect what you love. Or at least pretend to.
Founder: Kira Minato
Co-captains: Kai Isaragi & Aisha Kurozawa
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You didn't."
Kira grins, sipping canned coffee. "I absolutely did. You two went viral yesterday, man! The video of your broom fight hit three thousand views overnight. This school hasn't been this entertained since the vending machine caught fire."
[System alert: Rising public attention. Exposure risk at 27%.]
Aisha leans on the doorway, arms crossed. "You're turning my fake boyfriend into an internet meme."
Kira shrugs. "Public approval is the best camouflage."
By lunch, our "club" has six members — all delinquents, romantics, or bored geniuses.
There's Rin Takemiya, the track ace who calls every training "a date with destiny."
Jun Sato, the muscle-brained third-year who only joined because Aisha's in it.
And Toma Arikawa — yes, the same upperclassman who fought me — now smirking like a rival who's decided to become a sparring partner.
When I ask him why, he just says, "I lost fair. That means I owe you one."
[System note: Rival subroutine neutralized. Potential ally flagged.]
Our "training room" is the old gym storage hall, still dusty with forgotten mats.
Kira claps his hands. "Alright, welcome to the first session! Objective: learn basic defense and teamwork. Secondary objective: make Kai and Aisha even more awkward in public."
Aisha deadpans. "I'm leaving."
"No you're not," he says. "We need your poise. You're the face of our propaganda."
She sighs, then looks at me. "You're not enjoying this, are you?"
"Define enjoying."
"Exactly."
[Initiating physical assessment. Warning: suppressing automatic countermeasures.]
We pair off. Jun tries to grapple me — I sidestep; he hits the mat face-first.
Rin cheers like she's watching a shounen episode come to life.
Even Aisha laughs quietly, the sound half music, half mischief.
Then Kira says, "Aisha, your turn. You're sparring with Kai."
She blinks. "Wait, what?"
[Alert: incoming physical contact from Subject Aisha Kurozawa.]
[Recommendation: disengage.]
We circle each other awkwardly, barefoot on the mat.
She raises her fists — light, graceful.
"Go easy on me," she says.
"Not a chance."
I feint left; she sidesteps faster than expected.
For a second, she's behind me, sweeping my leg.
I fall, catching myself on one hand — and she laughs in triumph.
"Not bad for a fake boyfriend," she teases.
"Not bad for a CEO's daughter."
Kira whistles. "The chemistry here could power the city grid."
But mid-laughter, the System whispers something new:
[External signal detected.]
[Type: monitoring frequency.]
[Source location: unknown.]
My spine stiffens. "...Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Aisha tilts her head.
The hum vanishes — just the gym lights buzzing overhead.
[Signal lost. Threat level: unverified.]
I force a smile. "Nothing. Just thought I heard feedback."
But the truth gnaws in the background like static:
someone — or something — just tuned in to us.
Later, as the others leave, Aisha lingers, tossing me a water bottle.
Her tone is casual, but her eyes aren't.
"You froze earlier. During practice. What's wrong?"
I hesitate. "Just… deja vu."
"Of what?"
"Being watched."
She studies me a long second. Then:
"Then let's give them a show worth watching."
[New subroutine: Cooperative confidence pattern linked to Subject Aisha Kurozawa.]
[Mission log updated: Operation Fake Boyfriend — morale synchronization: 74%.]
And when she smiles like that — fierce, luminous, half-sincere —
I almost forget which side of the lie we're standing on.
The plan was ridiculous from the start.
Kira pitched it during lunch with a grin and a mouth full of curry bread.
"A night patrol, guys! First real field test of our defense club! We'll sneak in after dark, do a perimeter sweep, maybe catch the cafeteria ghost."
Everyone laughed—until Aisha didn't.
Her expression sharpened just enough to make the room quiet.
"Fine," she said. "If you're going to do it, do it properly. I'll come too."
[System alert: mission expansion requested by Subject Aisha Kurozawa.]
[Approving. Parameters—unclear.]
Ten p.m. The campus after curfew hums with the low buzz of electric fences and drone patrols.
We duck under the north gate—Kira's hacked the sensor grid again—and the night air smells of rain and neon.
Rin whispers, "I can't believe we're doing this."
Kira grins. "You'll thank me when we're legends."
[Environmental scan: 0 hostiles detected. 1 anomaly—frequency echo at 13.2 MHz.]
I stiffen. "Hold up."
Aisha turns to me, eyes catching faint moonlight. "What is it?"
"Could be a maintenance drone," I lie.
But the frequency matches something I haven't heard since the morgue.
[Pattern similarity: 87%. Possible System-class signature.]
We split into pairs.
Kira and Rin head toward the gym; Aisha and I patrol the library block.
The courtyard is silver and empty, the sound of cicadas replaced by humming transformers.
She whispers, "It's strange seeing the school like this. It feels… hollow."
"Like the walls are pretending to sleep."
[Emotional resonance increasing.]
She smiles faintly. "You always say weird things, Kai."
I want to tell her that "weird things" are all I have left of the boy I was—but the System interrupts:
[Alert: motion detected in Building C. Proximity—70 meters.]
"Someone's inside," I mutter.
We move quietly through the hall.
The lights flicker once, then steady into a sterile white.
A low beeping echoes ahead—like a heart monitor buried under static.
When we turn the corner, the air changes.
A student stands there, half-collapsed against the lockers—uniform torn, eyes vacant, skin faintly glowing with circuit lines.
Aisha gasps. "Is he—?"
[Identified: Unknown System User.]
[Designation: Failure Unit-07.]
[Corruption level: 42%. Consciousness unstable.]
He lifts his head slowly, voice like cracked glass.
"P…protect…who…?"
Then he lunges.
Time fractures.
The System floods my vision with data—angles, speed, trajectories.
I shove Aisha aside, catch the student's arm, twist—feel the heat of kinetic discharge scorch my sleeve.
[Activating Pure Module—Shield of Will.]
A shimmer bursts between us—transparent, hexagonal, catching the impact like invisible glass.
The rogue student recoils, screeching a digital note that doesn't belong in any human throat.
Aisha stares. "Kai—what—?"
"Run!"
We crash through a door into the courtyard, the Shield flickering.
[Warning: energy depletion 47%. Recommend disengage.]
"Not yet."
The boy staggers after us, lines of code crawling up his neck, whispering the same phrase again and again:
"Protect… protect… protect…"
I grab a fallen broom—the irony's not lost on me.
When he swings, I parry, pivot, and slam the handle into the circuit node glowing on his wrist.
Light bursts—then silence.
He collapses.
For a moment, I think he's gone—but his pulse stabilizes, faint and human again.
[System interference neutralized.]
[Unregistered AI fragment detected and absorbed.]
Aisha kneels beside the boy, trembling. "He's just… a kid."
"Yeah." I look at the flickering tattoo on his wrist. The same symbol burned near my own scar.
[Data synchronization complete. Partial memory unlocked.]
A voice whispers through the static of my mind—
not the System's, not mine:
"Find the others… before Continuum wakes."
The lights across the school flicker twice, then die completely.
We're left standing in the dark—breathing hard, drenched in electric silence.
Aisha whispers, "Kai… what are you?"
[Mission state compromised.]
I can't answer.
Because I don't know anymore.