The class was nearing its end.
Sae gathered the last papers from her desk as some students began packing their materials. Yuta didn't move. His gaze was blank, fixed on the board, his thoughts too scattered to focus.
Then he felt it.
A faint, strange pressure, as if the room had taken on a new density.
'Cursed energy…?'
It was low. But real.
The kind that creeps—like dust forgotten in the corner of a room.
Yuta didn't move a muscle. Didn't lift his gaze.
He knew something was coming toward the classroom.
Utaha lowered her phone slowly, her eyes still fixed on the latest notification.
No visible expression on her face. Just a subtle raise of an eyebrow.
She shifted her gaze to the door.
As if she knew someone was coming. As if something familiar was about to happen.
The message still pulsed on the screen:
> "Special delivery. Hope you recognize the work."
She sighed. Not from exhaustion—but from habit.
Then she crossed her legs elegantly and kept her eyes on the door, waiting.
Yuta noticed at the same moment.
It wasn't the sound. Nor the gesture. It was the way she stopped looking bored.
Utaha never looked outside the classroom without reason. And now, in that moment, she was alert.
'As I thought… whatever's coming, it's tied to the mission.'
Yuta didn't move. Didn't take a deep breath. Just turned his gaze to the door.
And waited.
---
The hallway felt quieter than usual.
Tomoya walked slowly, the flash drive clutched between his fingers like a shard of glass.
When he reached the door, he took a deep breath, kept his eyes fixed on the classroom number, and raised his hand.
Tok… Tok.
---
The professor barely lifted her eyes from the papers.
"Come in already. And be quick."
Utaha gave a faint, sidelong smile, laced with curiosity. A girl beside her raised her eyebrows silently, noticing the unusual spark in the writer's eyes.
Yuta felt the shift in the air. Subtle. Precise. The cursed energy around his body intensified, like an invisible layer molding to his skin—pure instinct.
The doorknob turned with a dry click.
The door slid open a few centimeters, as if the room itself hesitated to allow the next step.
Then it opened fully.
Tomoya stepped in.
His body hunched, but his eyes steady. Short steps. Discreet. The flash drive gripped tightly, like a silent vow.
Yuta looked.
And froze.
Not because of Tomoya. But because of what came with him.
Behind. Beside. Above.
Phantoms.
Five. Six. Maybe more. Nearly transparent, like blurred shadows on wet glass. But they were there—clinging to him like dust on sweaty skin.
'It's not the energy from the flash drive…'
Yuta averted his eyes instantly.
The phantoms didn't move. Didn't attack. Just hovered, circling like soundless insects.
He knew the rule.
As long as no one sees them… they only watch.
Tomoya saw nothing. Felt nothing.
He walked to the back row as if the world wasn't cracking around his feet.
Utaha stood the moment she saw the flash drive.
Her eyes gleamed. Her smile—wide, unexpected—shattered any composed facade. It was pure relief. Pure victory.
"So it's you…"
She took two steps, ignoring the stares around her. One of her classmates whispered something, but the words died in the air.
Tomoya didn't respond. He just extended his arm, steady.
Utaha took the object like it was a lost jewel.
The phantoms didn't move. But something in them… vibrated.
The bell rang.
Chairs scraped. Backpacks zipped. Voices filled the room.
Aika stood, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.
"I'm going to find Megumi."
Yuta didn't react.
"I'm staying here."
Aika hesitated. But didn't question.
She left with the others.
Yuta was still watching the air when a notification cut through his vision—discreet, cold, silent.
[JJK System – Active Mission Alert]
[Ding! The cursed object has been detected in direct contact with the designated bearer.]
[Mission "Guardian of Silent Words" now in status: ACTIVE.]
[Analysis in progress…]
[Spiritual presence confirmed: 6 observer-class entities.]
[Recommendations: Maintain distance, avoid provoking hostility. Begin discreet surveillance.]
[Objective updated: Monitor Kasumigaoka Utaha. Intervention authorized if there's a threat of activation.]
The screen dissolved slowly. But the feeling… didn't fade.
Yuta closed his eyes for a second.
The game had begun.
---
The last students crossed the door as Utaha turned, the flash drive still in her hand, now clenched in her fist like a sealed confession.
"You've got some nerve."
She smiled, but her eyes… were warmer than usual.
"Staying invisible for so long, hiding all this… and then showing up with this."
She raised the flash drive.
"I've read a lot of texts trying to be my creative partner. They all spoke too loudly. Yours… spoke at the right time."
The classroom was nearly empty.
Just the two of them, standing face-to-face.
Utaha tilted her head slightly, her hair sliding over her shoulder.
"You're the mysterious editor?"
Her voice was low, as if guarding that question was a personal secret.
Tomoya didn't look away.
His hand in his pocket gripped the coat's seam tightly, but outwardly… he was steady.
"Well… it's me."
The pause was brief. But heavy.
"I hope you're not disappointed."
His tone was simple. No flourish. But there was truth there—and a hint of fear masked behind the steady voice.
Utaha blinked once, holding his gaze.
Then, without warning, she laughed. Softly. Almost relieved.
"Disappointed?"
She took a step forward, her shadow blending with his under the dim classroom light.
"Tomoya… I waited weeks for this answer. I wondered who could've touched my text with such care."
She raised the flash drive between her fingers, almost showing it to him again—a proof, a bond.
"And now… you're here. In front of me. With that face like you still don't get what you've done."
Her smile was faint.
"Thank you."
Tomoya lowered his face slightly, as if trying to escape the intensity of the moment.
His hand in his pocket gripped the coat fabric tighter, seeking support in something physical.
His voice came out lower than rehearsed—almost a whisper, unpretentious.
"You don't need to thank me. You've got talent… I just edited a little."
His eyes couldn't hold hers for more than a second.
But even so, there was something steady in that shyness. The certainty that he'd done the right thing—even without knowing what came next.
Utaha stared at him for a few seconds in silence. Her eyes sharpened slightly, but didn't lose their curious spark.
There was something new in her gaze—a kind of respect not earned through empty effort.
Then she smiled again.
More discreet now.
More… real.
"Do you have any idea how many people tried to mess with my scripts and failed miserably?"
She twirled the flash drive between her fingers.
"You didn't just get the rhythm. You got the tone."
Leaning on one foot, she tilted her head slightly.
"So… let me repay you."
The words came simply. No dramatic weight.
"You must want something. A favor. A conversation. A chance. Anything."
Utaha took a half-step forward. Her voice lower now, intimate, but still firm.
"What can I do for you, Tomoya?"
Tomoya took a deep breath, hesitating for a second. Then he raised his eyes with a bit more resolve.
"I… want you to write the script for my game."
The pause was short but heavy.
"Officially. As a partner."
His hand still gripped his pocket, but now there was a thread of courage between his fingers.
"That's what I've wanted. From the start."
Utaha stared at Tomoya for a moment that seemed to stretch in time.
The surrounding room, still with scattered hallway noises, felt muffled by the tension between them.
Then she looked away for half a second—as if processing the proposal, as if mentally reviewing all the layers she'd read in that script, in the edits, in the intentions.
When she met his gaze again, there was no doubt in her eyes.
Just a spark—direct, technical, and dangerously intrigued.
"You're really not asking for much. But you've got something the others didn't."
She raised the flash drive one last time, then tucked it into her coat's inner pocket, close to her heart.
"You understood my voice before trying to write your own."
And then, with a finer, more decisive smile:
"It's a deal. I'm in."
Her hand extended naturally.
"Partners, then?"
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