"…Reina Saeki. Yeah, that's her."
ANIER's voice, calm but artificial, echoed in her mind through the contact lenses.
"You sound like you're giving a dramatic introduction to a villain," Reina muttered, rolling her eyes. She tapped her pen against the edge of the desk. "I'm bored, ANIER. Bored out of my mind. Can't you give me something… interesting?"
"Interest parameters detected: your emotional output is minimal. You are currently experiencing 0.2 excitement units per minute," ANIER replied. Its tone was utterly neutral, and yet somehow judgmental.
Reina groaned. "Wow. Thanks for the reminder, genius. You know, you don't have to be so literal all the time." She leaned back in her chair, eyes half-lidded, watching the classroom ceiling swirl with light.
She shifted slightly, and through the augmented reality in her contact lenses, she could see the CCTV feed of her lab in the west wing. There it was: pristine, humming softly with the low buzz of electronics and the faint aroma of ozone from her ongoing experiments.
Shiro, her white cat, snoozed in the middle of a small bed she had made, twitching its tail every now and then as if dreaming of chasing something far away. "Carefree little monster," Reina whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You don't have deadlines. You don't have to invent something that could explode. Lucky you."
Shiro's ears twitched. Reina laughed softly. "Don't even think about judging me. You're just fluff and trouble."
The bell rang, signaling the start of homeroom. Reina barely moved, letting the minutes drift. That's when ANIER interrupted.
"New report received."
Reina blinked. "Hmm? Already? What is it?"
"Two months have passed since the graduation of upperclassmen Sei, Ren, Akira, and Mei," ANIER stated. "Statistical analysis indicates a 78% decrease in activity in the Independent Research Society clubroom since their departure. Your previous engagement with the clubroom is recorded at 0.0 visits."
Reina's eyes narrowed slightly. "Huh. Yeah… I guess I never visited since they left." She leaned forward, tapping her desk thoughtfully. "But that's not the end… I didn't think so either. They were great, sure, but I can handle things myself."
"Your confidence level: 92%," ANIER remarked. "Is this a motivational simulation, or actual sentiment?"
"Actual," Reina replied, waving a hand. "I've always liked a challenge."
"Observation: your challenge parameters often include chemical hazards, explosions, and risk of bodily injury. Probability of harm: elevated."
Reina smirked. "Elevated, but not lethal. That's my specialty, ANIER. You know me too well."
She paused, tapping her chin. "Wait… speaking of them… what about their club? The Independent Research Society…"
"Unknown," ANIER replied. "No live data since their graduation. Probability: abandoned."
"Hmm," Reina murmured, eyes lighting up. "Abandoned, you say? I should check."
The morning classes crawled by. Notes were taken mechanically, interactions were minimal, and Reina's mind drifted constantly toward the west wing. Lunch finally came, and she moved like a predator with a singular purpose.
The hallways smelled of fried rice, sweet bread, and stale perfume, but Reina barely noticed. She strode toward the Independent Research Society clubroom, eyes fixed on the door, imagining the possibilities.
"Okay, ANIER," she whispered, nudging her lenses for optimal clarity. "Show me the inside feed before I open it."
"Display engaged," ANIER confirmed.
The clubroom appeared untouched, frozen in time. Dust motes floated in the sunlight streaming through tall windows. Vials of chemicals stood neatly on shelves, papers were scattered in meticulous chaos, and her memories of debates, experiments, and laughter of the departed filled her mind.
Reina let out a soft sigh, pushing the door open slowly. The hinges creaked, but no alarms went off. Her boots scuffed lightly against the wooden floor. "Well… untouched," she murmured. "Maybe they left in such a rush… or maybe no one dared touch this place."
Her gaze fell on a corner where a small pile of papers remained, probably notes from Mei. She picked one up. "Huh… nothing explosive today," she said, flipping through sketches of molecular structures.
ANIER's voice buzzed in her ears. "Hazardous material concentration: unchanged. Probability of incident if interacted with: 13.7%."
"Low enough," Reina muttered with a sly grin. "But still… better handle with care."
She placed the paper down, brushing a layer of dust off an empty beaker. "Feels just like old times. Guess it's up to me now."
Back in the west wing, Reina's lab was quiet but welcoming. She kicked the door open slightly, a smile forming as Shiro jumped up, nuzzling against her legs.
"You missed me, huh?" Reina said, bending down to lift the cat. Shiro purred, kneading her hand softly. "Careful, you little fluff tornado… don't get into my new formula."
Shiro blinked lazily. "I didn't touch anything," Reina whispered, mostly to herself, though the cat looked guilty anyway.
Reina eased onto the couch in her lab, setting Shiro on her lap. She stretched, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. The cat curled into a tight ball, tail flicking. "Maybe I need to stop overthinking everything," she said, gazing at the ceiling. "Maybe I overcomplicate… every single thing."
"You often overthink," ANIER pointed out.
Reina opened one eye. "Wow, thank you, Captain Obvious."
"Correction: Lieutenant Obvious," ANIER replied dryly.
Reina laughed softly. "Sure, Lieutenant. But… seriously, I can't stop thinking about them sometimes. Sei… Ren… Akira… Mei… They were… incredible. Four people, four geniuses, gone just like that."
"You are superior in multitasking and inventive capabilities," ANIER said. "Your comparative output surpasses individual metrics of all four alumni. Probability of stagnation: 4.6%. Your progress continues."
"Yeah… I know," Reina whispered. Her voice softened. "But it's not the same without them… you know? Clubroom feels… empty."
Shiro mewed softly as if agreeing, her small paw pressing against Reina's hand.
Reina smiled faintly, stroking the cat. "I guess… I just need to keep going. Keep experimenting. Keep inventing. That's what they would want… right?"
"Logical conclusion: affirmed," ANIER replied.
"Alright then," Reina said, standing up, Shiro reluctantly hopping to the floor. "Time to make this lab… even better. I'll show them—well, not that they're here—but maybe myself—that I can handle this."
She walked to her workbench, flipping a switch. Lights flickered on, revealing stacks of notebooks, half-finished machines, and glowing tubes of chemicals. A soft hum filled the air. The faint scent of metal and ozone lingered.
ANIER's voice chimed in again. "Suggested task: optimize multi-purpose Halo parameters. Efficiency threshold: 87%. Hazard: minimal."
Reina grinned. "You read my mind, as always. Let's see… Halo, let's see what you can really do today."
Shiro stretched lazily on the couch. "You're a genius," Reina said, laughing. "I'm a genius. Together… unstoppable."
The cat yawned, and Reina got to work. Her fingers moved deftly across holographic controls, her mind racing faster than any AI could process. For the first time today, boredom was a distant memory.
Outside, the sun shone high over the school, but inside the west wing, time seemed to bend. Ideas sparked, wires connected, and formulas danced across digital screens.
And though the Independent Research Society's clubroom remained empty, Reina felt a strange sense of continuity—as if the echoes of Sei, Ren, Akira, and Mei whispered encouragement through the dusty air.
"Not the end," she muttered to herself, voice soft. "Just… a new beginning."
Shiro purred in agreement, curling back into a ball as Reina leaned over her newest project, ready to invent, ready to challenge herself, and ready to fill the emptiness with her own brilliance.