The discovery of the non-networked terminal was a small victory in a world that felt designed to defeat him. Haruki spent the next few days in a daze, his waking hours a constant, anxious hum of dread. He barely slept, surviving on nutrient paste and the flickering hope that the dusty relic would hold the key to the system's flaws. He tried to tell Akiro about the terminal, to share his frantic energy, but was met with the same placid, unsettling calm. "This is an inefficient use of your resources," Akiro would say, his voice a perfect monotone, "The Musubi Protocol provides all necessary data for harmonious living." The words felt like polished stones, smooth and empty.
Haruki's obsession didn't go unnoticed. His low Kizuna-kai, his Bond Score, which had been in a steady decline for weeks, plummeted. He felt the shift in the way students interacted with him. The friendly nods from classmates became swift, averted glances. Conversations ceased the moment he approached. The system's passive social correction was in full effect, isolating him from the harmonious whole. He was a discordant note, a virus the system was trying to quarantine.
He sought out one of his professors, Dr. Hoshino, a man he had once admired for his seemingly genuine warmth. Haruki tried to explain his theory, using hurried, frantic words about the Aida-no-yami and the system's terrifying perfection. Dr. Hoshino listened with a gentle, patient smile. "Haruki," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "it sounds like you're experiencing some dissonance. The protocol is here to help. Perhaps you should consider a brief Jōka Ceremony to recalibrate your mind." The kind words were a mask for a terrifying suggestion. The Jōka Ceremony wasn't a help; it was a factory reset.
The encounter sent a shiver down Haruki's spine. The professor wasn't a villain, but a symptom. He was so completely integrated into the system that he couldn't see the cage he was in. Haruki realized then that his fight wasn't just against the cold logic of the protocol; it was against the willing surrender of everyone around him. He was a castaway on an island of perfectly content souls, and their happiness was his greatest fear. He was truly, utterly alone in his sanity. His only hope now lay in the dusty, cracked screen of that forgotten terminal.