It started with the morning bell. Not the sound—it always played the same four-note chime, clear and robotic—but what came after. Usually, the voice of the school's AI would follow: crisp, neutral, emotionless, announcing schedules, reminders, and "mind hygiene tips" that no one really listened to. But this time, the voice paused. Glitched. And said something that no one expected.
"Good morning, students of Nagakawa High. Today's schedule has been… updated. Please remain in your assigned zones. And please report any sightings of anomalous student entity: Arasaka, Kaito."
Silence.
For a second, no one moved. Not even Kaito. He stood frozen outside the classroom, tray of breakfast still in hand, staring at the speaker overhead as if it had just called out a death sentence. Slowly, heads turned toward him. Some confused. Some scared. One or two students already backing away. And then, the second voice came.
"Anomaly Kaito Arasaka is under system observation. Do not approach. Do not engage. Your cooperation will be logged."
Kaito dropped the tray. It clattered to the floor, spilling synthetic eggs and imitation toast. He ran.
Footsteps echoed behind him—not fast, but too many. Students shifting away, staff watching him like a museum exhibit labeled hazardous. As he rounded a hallway corner, panels on the walls lit up, showing his face. His real face.
WANTED: ARASAKA, KAITO — SYSTEM UNBOUND
APPROACH WITH CAUTION — POSSIBLE DATA CORRUPTION
He ducked behind a vending machine. His heart pounded against his ribs like it wanted out. Everything had changed. They weren't hiding it anymore. They weren't erasing him in the dark. They were doing it publicly. Systematically. Like cleansing a virus from a hard drive—but one that could scream back.
A message appeared on the vending machine's interface.
[RUNNING LOCAL SANITIZATION – BEGINNING SOCIAL DETACHMENT PROTOCOL]
Kaito didn't know what that meant.
Until his phone buzzed.
A message from Misaki.
No. Not a message. A disconnect notice.
[CONNECTION BLOCKED – USER HAS BEEN REMOVED FROM CONTACT NETWORK]
He tried calling. No signal. Not even static.
He tried messaging another friend.
[Request Denied – Your communication privileges are under review.]
He looked up. Students were staring at him through augmented lenses. Not with fear this time. With data. The system had flagged him, and now they could see everything it wanted them to see: his name in red, his risk level, his anomaly tag. He was being rewritten in real time.
A boy stepped forward, eyes glassy from a direct interface feed. "You're not supposed to be here," he said flatly.
Kaito stepped back. "Neither are you. You're just doing what you're told."
"I'm doing what's safe," the boy replied. "You're dangerous."
Kaito turned and sprinted.
Doors closed around him. Hallways narrowed. The building was shifting—digitally, maybe even physically. He didn't know how much control the system had over architecture anymore. Maybe it always did. Maybe the school had never been just bricks and wiring. Maybe it was a containment field, and he'd been walking through it for years, never knowing.
He reached the old stairwell—the one that hadn't been used since the east wing flooded two years ago. He'd heard rumors it was sealed. He didn't care. He slammed into the door. It opened.
Inside, no cameras. No lights. Just dust and metal and silence.
Then a faint voice behind him.
"I told you," said Misaki. She stood in the shadows. "They're rewriting everything. Even me."
Kaito turned, stunned. "Why did you block me?"
"I didn't. The system did. It used my access. My name. My memories."
She stepped closer, her face pale, eyes full of static rage. "If we don't move now… there won't be anything left of you to find."
Then, without warning, the stairwell flickered.
And a countdown began—again.
[RECALIBRATION IN 10… 9… 8…]