In a dimly lit room, the only light came from the glow of a computer monitor reflecting in the sharp eyes of a girl with jet-black hair.
Stacks of light novels, anime CDs, and fantasy posters covered the walls—
a private space for someone living halfway between reality and fiction.
Ruri Gokou, also known as Kuroneko, typed quickly, her voice a quiet chant spoken under her breath.
"Yuuto Kido… Yuuto Kido…" she murmured, eyes locked on the screen with focused intensity.
Her fingers danced across the keyboard, tracing cross-world data pathways permitted by the Chat Group system.
"Hm… let's see if he's from any adaptation."
She typed again—
and paused when a result appeared.
[Yuuto Kidou — Character from Inazuma Eleven.]
Ruri stared for a few seconds, then clicked her tongue softly.
"Tch. Of course not. Same name, but completely different presence.
One's a cheerful soccer kid—
the other is… someone broken."
She leaned back in her chair with a long sigh.
"Then who are you, Yuuto Kido…?"
Her eyes narrowed.
She opened additional tabs—world data, fictional archives, Chat Group system logs—
all empty.
"No match in manga.
None in games.
Not in any fanworks recorded by the system either… strange."
She scratched her head, her long dark hair becoming slightly messy.
"Aaah! Just who is he!? I already searched every category!"
She slumped forward onto her desk, cheek hitting the keyboard.
Soft click click sounds echoed as random keys were pressed.
"Is he just some NPC…?" she whispered, half-defeated.
But the moment the words left her lips—
her eyes widened.
"No. That's impossible."
She sat up, eyes gleaming with realization.
"The Chat Group system never pulls background characters.
Everyone chosen has a name recognized by some branch of reality.
Even those erased from history are still recorded."
Her gaze shifted to the desk, where two phones lay side by side:
one for the Chat Group, and one personal.
Ruri picked up her personal phone.
Her expression turned serious.
"…Could he be… from there?"
Outside, the rain fell softly, as if affirming her suspicion.
Ruri stared at the phone a moment longer, then bit her lip.
"…I'd better confirm."
She opened her contacts and dialed the number saved under "Tomo-chan // Data Hunter."
It rang twice before someone answered.
"Hello. It's me," Ruri said immediately. "I need a favor.
Can you look up any information on someone named Yuuto Kido?"
She listened, then added firmly:
"No, not the one from Inazuma Eleven. I already checked. Someone else."
A short silence.
"…Yes. I know. Alright. Thanks."
She ended the call slowly and set the phone down.
Half her face was covered in the glow of the monitor, her violet eyes darker than usual.
"…Let's hope," she whispered,
"…that my guess is wrong."
---
POV: Yuuto Kido
Soft blue light from Miku's form cast gentle shadows against the dull walls.
Her expression was calm—yet warm—
like a smile that did not belong in a place this cold.
"Hatsune Miku…?"
Yuuto's voice was weak, rough from disuse.
"You're… one of the people who were messaging me earlier…?"
Miku tilted her head slightly, her blue hair shimmering faintly in holographic light.
"Yes," she answered softly—her tone like a quiet echo from a distant speaker.
"I'm Hatsune Miku. The one who spoke to you in the group, along with the others."
Her voice was not entirely human.
Too smooth, too exact.
Like a song played without emotion—yet beautiful because of that.
Yuuto's body tensed—caught between awe and fear.
Miku glanced around the room.
Damp walls, flickering light, the stale air heavy with dust and rain.
She exhaled—though she didn't need to breathe.
"By the way," she said, walking slowly toward him,
"it's stuffy in here… and dark too. How can you live like this?"
She meant it gently—
but to Yuuto, every step she took felt unbearable.
"D-Don't come any closer!" he cried, voice cracking, trembling at the edges.
"I don't want… anyone near me!"
Miku stopped.
Her eyes widened slightly, watching him curl inward, hugging his knees atop the bed.
"Eh? Why…?"
Her voice rose just a little—soft, airy, like a Vocaloid melody touched with worry.
"We're friends now. I won't hurt you, I promise."
But Yuuto only buried his face in his hands.
His shoulders shook.
His voice broke like shattered glass.
"Please… stop…" he whispered.
"Don't make me believe again…
Don't make me hope…"
Miku froze.
Those words cut deeper than she expected—
deeper than any data, deeper than any logical response.
"Hope…?" she repeated softly.
Her voice flickered—tinged with an emotion she couldn't fully express.
"What do you mean, Kido?"
No answer.
Only the soft rhythm of rain beyond the window—
a rhythm that almost sounded like a sad song.
Miku stepped forward again—slowly.
Each step accompanied by a faint digital chime.
She looked at him closely, her voice now gentle—
like a melody lowered to a lullaby.
"I don't know what happened to you," she said,
"but if I can make this room even a little brighter…
or let you hear something other than the rain…"
She paused.
Her smile was small—fragile, but real.
"…may I stay here for a while?"
Yuuto did not answer.
But his sobs gradually quieted, replaced by long, shaky breaths.
The blue light around Miku softened, spreading like a quiet embrace.
Outside, the clouds began to thin.
The rain still fell—but now, it sounded softer.
And in that hush—
Miku began to sing.
No lyrics.
Just sound.
A gentle digital melody, pure and calm.
And to Yuuto—
it was the first voice in a long, long time
that didn't hurt to listen to.