The silence was louder than the notifications ever were.
For the first time in weeks, Ikaru Shinji woke up without a prompt. No blinking interface. No hope counter. No percentage updates for emotions he couldn't understand.
Just the stillness of a quiet Sunday morning, broken only by the soft chirping of birds outside his window and the slow whirr of the electric fan above.
He sat up.
No System message.
No menu flash.
No intrusive questions asking how he felt or if he wanted to "Assign a Trait."
He blinked. Once. Twice.
Still nothing.
And for a moment, he felt... afraid.
Where did it go?
Is it gone?
Am I alone?
He touched his chest instinctively, as if he could feel something had been unplugged—some circuit that had grown familiar, even comforting in its coldness.
But this—this absence—felt unnatural.
Not liberating.
Not peaceful.
Just wrong.
The truth was, he had gotten used to the System. Not as a friend. Not even as a crutch.But as a mirror. A dark one—always showing him what he didn't want to admit.
Without it, he didn't know what to feel. Or how to begin feeling.
The thought made his chest tighten.
"Let someone walk beside you…"That was the last thing it said.
He clenched his fists. That message—it didn't feel like code. It felt like a goodbye.
Or worse… a test.
Downstairs, his mother was humming in the kitchen.
He hadn't heard her sing in a while. Usually she just moved like a shadow, like they both did—coexisting without truly speaking.
He peeked from the stairwell. She was frying eggs. She looked older than he remembered.
"Morning," she said, not turning.
"…Morning."
It had been so long since he'd said that word to her that it almost felt foreign in his mouth.
"Hungry?"
He didn't know the answer. So he nodded.
She set a plate on the table. Just one.
"Eat," she said. "You're thinner again."
He sat down.
No system voice commented on "Caloric Intake" or "Health Level Decrease."
No stat was recorded.
Just warm egg, cold rice, and the sound of an old fan spinning above.
Later that day, he walked.Nowhere in particular. Just through the streets of town where the faces were familiar but nameless. The sakura petals were almost completely gone now. The trees looked skeletal. Honest.
It matched how he felt.
Yui wasn't in the park this time.
He sat alone on the same bench, listening to the breeze.
Still nothing.
He took out his phone—not to check the System. Just out of habit.
He opened the notepad app and began typing.
Entry 1: If the System is Gone
Maybe it wasn't here to help me at all.
Maybe it was just a reflection of how much I didn't trust myself to feel.
I let a voice that wasn't mine decide what mattered.
But now that it's quiet... the silence is louder than the pain ever was.
He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over "Save."
And for the first time, he added a line not for himself.
PS: If you're still there... I'm listening.Just don't leave without telling me why.
As he hit save, a soft click echoed—not from his phone.
But from behind him.
A bench creaked.
He turned.
Yui.
Her eyes looked different today.
Not sad. Not empty.
But tired—like someone who had stayed up all night, not crying, not hurting... just thinking.
"I felt it too," she said.
He didn't need to ask what she meant.
She sat beside him again, no invitation needed.
"The System... it stopped."
"I know."
"Did it say anything to you?"
She shook her head. "Just... faded. Like a breath held too long."
Ikaru looked at her. "Do you think it's coming back?"
"I don't know," Yui said. "But if it doesn't, maybe that's the point."
They watched the wind tug at the last few sakura petals above.
And for the first time since his rejection, since the voice had entered his life, since his own emotions had become quantified—Ikaru felt a moment pass by without needing to understand it.
Just feel it.
He didn't check for points. Or progress.
He didn't think of routes or outcomes.
He just sat beside someone who stayed, even after knowing everything.
Even after the System left.
And in that moment, he understood:
The System wasn't gone.
It was waiting.
Watching.
Letting him see if he could walk without it.
System Notification:(Delayed Sync)"You walked alone today. You spoke honestly. You listened."Hope: +1Autonomy Trait Activated: [True Self Lv1]Description: The version of you that speaks without fear of rejection.This is the first step.