Aoi had been rescued.
That ending wasn't touched.The boat, the signal, the cut to black… all of it remained intact. The first game closed her story without ambiguity.
That's why, when a new project was discussed, the question wasn't how to continue, but why return to Aoi.
–"The island changes her," – said Mori.–"She can't go back to being the same person."
Kisaragi nodded.–"Surviving leaves a mark."
The conversation moved with more caution than enthusiasm. No one wanted to repeat the formula by inertia.
–"What if she doesn't return by accident?" – I asked.
They looked at me.–"If she survives once…" – I continued.–"And discovers ruins… it's logical that she'd want to understand them."
I grabbed the marker.–"Aoi doesn't come back as a victim," – I said.–"She comes back as an explorer."
The ideas began to fit.
After the rescue, Aoi studies. Archaeology specializing in unknown ruins. Not fantasy. Fragmented history, poorly documented civilizations. Places ignored because they're hard to reach.
–"And survival?" – asked Sato.–"She learns it intentionally," – I replied.–"Military training. Advanced survival course."
Mori barely smiled.–"That explains why she doesn't die in five minutes."
The game was no longer about surviving until being rescued.Now the goal was exploration.
–"Different locations," – I said, writing on the board.–"Islands. Jungles. Deserts. Coastal ruins. Abandoned zones."
Each scenario was independent. Self-contained. With its own rules.
–"Not a huge open world," – I clarified.–"Specific explorations."
The engine made it feasible to think this way. Load different maps. Reuse systems. Adjust climate, visibility, resources without rewriting everything.
–"What does the player do?" – asked Kisaragi.–"Decides how far to go," – I replied.–"When to retreat. What to investigate and what to leave intact."
Failure was no longer dying.It was losing information.Damaging a site.Making an irreversible mistake.
–"That's new," – said Mori.–"And consistent with Aoi," – I added.–"She no longer survives by instinct, but by choice."
The tone of the meeting changed. It was no longer chaotic brainstorming. It was construction.
–"This isn't Aoi 2," – said Kisaragi.–"It's Aoi… after."
No one contradicted him.
When it ended, I returned to my desk and opened the engine. I loaded a new project. This time I actually wrote a name, even if temporary.
"Aoi: Exploration"
I looked at the blank screen.I didn't feel pressure.I felt continuity.
Aoi was no longer waiting for someone to save her.And, without realizing it, neither was I.