The characteristic humidity of the Japanese summer enveloped the Fireworks Festival Saturday, turning the air into a hot, dense haze.
Kaito stood in front of Fujisawa station, checking his watch. 4:58 PM.
He wore his usual civilian clothes—jeans and a t-shirt—having bravely resisted Fia and Mai's pressure to rent a men's yukata. "Traditional clothes restrict movement and ventilation," he argued. "Besides, wooden sandals are ergonomically disastrous."
Beside him, Fia floated in invisible mode, vibrating with anxiety.
"Where is she, Kaito? The 'Yukata Meeting' event has a critical time window! If we miss the sunset, the romantic lighting bonus drops by 30%!"
"She will come," Kaito thought, leaning against a pillar. "The 'Other Futaba' craves this more than anyone. She wants to be seen, but this time, for the right reasons."
Then, he saw her.
She was standing near a vending machine, slightly apart from the main crowd. She was wearing the yukata. It was a light blue fabric with goldfish prints, and the yellow obi highlighted her waist. Her hair was up, showing her neck, and her makeup was light.
Kaito felt a pang of logical approval. She had followed the advice. She looked appropriate.
But something was wrong.
She wasn't looking for him in the crowd. She was looking at her phone, shoulders hunched and hands visibly shaking. The paleness of her face contrasted violently with the cheerful yukata.
Kaito pushed off the pillar. The trouble sensor in his brain, which he had unfortunately developed over the last few weeks, blared a red alarm.
He walked over to her, cutting through the crowd.
"You are two minutes late," he said upon approaching. "Schedule efficiency is compromised."
She jumped, almost dropping her phone. She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes.
"Tanaka..." she whispered, voice failing.
"What happened?" Kaito looked at the phone she was gripping tightly. "Battery trouble? Or did the internet go down and you can't post your selfie?"
"No..." she swallowed hard, extending the device to him with a trembling hand. "Look."
Kaito took the phone. The screen showed a direct message conversation on the social media app.
Unknown User: I saw you at the station. Blue yukata, huh? Very cute. But I prefer the photos you post without so many clothes.
Unknown User: I know who you are. Rio Futaba, from Minegahara High. I know you like to show off.
Unknown User: Meet me now behind the convenience store at the North exit. If you don't come, I'm sending the link to your account to the school forum. Everyone will know the saintly scientist is an internet slut.
Unknown User: I'm watching you right now. Don't try to run.
Kaito read the messages. His expression didn't change. It remained the same mask of boredom as always.
But internally, the temperature of his apathy dropped to absolute zero.
"THREAT ALERT!" Fia shouted in his head. "THIS IS A STALKER ARC! DANGER LEVEL: HIGH! KAITO, WE HAVE TO CALL THE POLICE OR RUN!"
"Running validates the predator," Kaito thought. "And the police require bureaucracy and statements. Inefficient."
He looked around the station square. Hundreds of people. Tourists, students, families. The "Unknown User" was there, somewhere, hiding in the crowd, feeling powerful for typing threats on a screen.
Kaito felt a deep, intense disgust. Cowardice was the human trait he despised most, right after excessive noise.
"He says he's watching you," Kaito said calmly.
"He... he's going to tell everyone," Futaba sobbed, grabbing Kaito's shirt sleeve. "If the school finds out... if Kunimi finds out... my life is over. I have to go. I have to beg him not to..."
Kaito raised his hand, interrupting her.
"You are going nowhere. Negotiating with digital terrorists is illogical."
Kaito took her phone. His fingers flew over the virtual keyboard.
"What are you doing?!"
"Replying," Kaito said.
He typed:
choco_cornet: This is her boyfriend. We are in front of the red vending machine at the South exit. If you are man enough to make threats, be man enough to come here and repeat them to my face. I'm waiting. You have 60 seconds before I trace your IP and send it to the cyber police.
He sent it.
"Y-You said you're my boyfriend?! And cyber police?! Do you know how to trace an IP?!"
"No," Kaito admitted, handing the phone back to her. "But he doesn't know that. Cowards operate on the assumption that the victim is alone and helpless. When the victim shows teeth, the coward's logic dictates retreat."
They waited.
The minute passed slowly. Futaba looked everywhere, expecting a monster to emerge from the crowd. Kaito just stared at the phone in her hand.
Unknown User: [User has blocked you]
Unknown User: [Account not found]
Kaito let out a bored sigh. "Predictable. A rat that runs to the sewer at the first light."
Futaba looked at the screen. The profile was gone. The threat had evaporated in the face of Kaito's apathetic aggression.
She trembled, and tears began to fall. Not from fear, but from relief and shame.
"He... is he gone?"
"He fled," Kaito corrected. "Because he is pathetic. And because you gave him power by creating this stupid account."
Futaba looked at the "choco_cornet" profile. The photos. The disgusting comments. The fake validation. All of that almost destroyed her real life.
With a trembling finger, she went to settings.
Delete Account Permanently?
She pressed Yes.
The screen loaded for a second, and then... gone. "choco_cornet" was erased.
Futaba lowered the phone, shoulders slumping. She looked exhausted.
"I... I don't want to go to the festival," she whispered. "I want to go home. Please."
Kaito looked at her. Her face was swollen from crying, makeup smeared. The festive mood had been murdered. Forcing a reintegration now would be disastrous.
"Mai will be upset," Kaito said, taking out his phone to message the actress. "But psychological safety takes priority. I'll take you."
The walk to Rio Futaba's house was silent. The sun was setting, casting long shadows. They moved away from the busy center and entered an upper-class residential neighborhood.
Kaito had never been to her house. He knew she lived "close," but "close" was a relative term.
They stopped in front of a gate.
Kaito looked up. And kept looking.
It wasn't a house. It was a mansion. A modern complex of concrete and glass, with a landscaped garden and a garage that could fit three of Kaito's apartments.
"This..." Kaito began, voice faltering slightly, "...is your house?"
"It is," Futaba muttered, unlocking the electronic gate.
They walked to the front door. Futaba opened the door with her key. The interior was dark and silent. The central air conditioning kept the environment at a perfect, constant temperature.
"And your parents?" Kaito asked.
"They aren't here," she said, unsurprised. "Traveling. Conference in Germany. They come back next month."
She turned to Kaito. She looked small in that huge space. Vulnerable.
"Tanaka... can you... stay a little?" she asked, hugging herself. "This house is... very big when it's empty. And after what happened at the station... I don't want to be alone right now."
Kaito looked at her. Then he looked at the living room, which had an Italian leather sofa that looked like it cost more than his vital organs. Looked at the marble staircase.
A vein popped on Kaito's forehead.
"Let me see if I understand the logistics," Kaito said, his voice dangerously calm.
He took a step forward.
"You live here. Alone. Your parents are in Germany."
"Y-Yes..." Futaba replied, confused by the change in tone.
"And you..." he pointed to her chest, "...and your other half, who is literally you... both have access to this residence."
"Yes..."
Kaito closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. He thought of his 20-square-meter apartment. Thought of his beanbag, which had deformed his spine. Thought of the "Divine Sandwich" on his single bed. Thought of the line to use the bathroom. Thought of the heat. Thought of the cramped space.
He opened his eyes and raised his hand with palm open.
SMACK.
He slapped the top of Futaba's head. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to convey cosmic indignation.
"Ow!" Futaba brought her hands to her head, shocked. "Why did you do that?!"
"BECAUSE YOU ARE AN INEFFICIENT IDIOT!" Kaito exploded, losing his composure for the first time that week.
He gestured frantically to the mansion around them.
"Look at this! This is a palace! It has central air conditioning! It has empty bedrooms! It has sofas that probably give massages!"
He stared at her, incredulous.
"I have been sleeping on a bag of beans for three days! My back looks like a question mark! Mai and your other Futaba are squeezed into my single bed!"
He put his hands on his head, walking in circles in the luxurious foyer.
"And the whole time... THE WHOLE TIME... you two could have been sleeping HERE! You were living here alone, in luxury, while the other one was invading my tiny living space! Why the hell didn't you merge just to save on emotional rent?!"
"I... I didn't think of that..." Futaba stammered.
"Of course not! You were too busy with existential crises to think about real estate logistics!"
Kaito sighed, defeated by the injustice of the universe.
"Fia," he called mentally.
"Yes, Chosen One? I'm admiring the crystal chandelier. It's very shiny!"
"Send a message to Mai. Tell her to bring the Other Futaba—I mean, the Original—here right now. Tell her we changed the reintegration location."
He looked at the owner of the house, who was still rubbing her head.
"The Fireworks Festival is canceled," Kaito decreed, taking off his shoes and stepping onto the cool marble. "We are having a Reintegration Slumber Party in this mansion. And I am going to sleep on the most expensive sofa I can find. Alone."
Futaba looked at him, stunned. And then, a small smile began to form on her lips. The fear of the stalker had been replaced by Kaito's comical indignation.
"You are a gold digger, Tanaka."
"I am a victim of circumstances and poor income distribution," Kaito corrected, walking toward the living room. "Now, where is the refrigerator? I need something expensive to compensate for my suffering."
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