[Congratulations! Chapter One Completed!]
[Reward: Bond Progression System Unlocked!]
[Warning: Chapter One Reward requires Bond Level 50%]
"Bond Level? What's that?" Michael muttered, his hospital room eerily silent except for the beep of machines.
Michael's chest tightened.
He zoomed in on Aiko's face—dirt smeared, hair matted with blood, but alive. A new menu popped up:
[Bond Level: 25%]
"Seriously? After all that, it's only 25%?" Michael groaned.
Onscreen, Aiko lay collapsed near the waterfall.
The tent Michael'd moved earlier stood nearly a mile away, its fabric glowing faintly through the mist. Michael tapped the [Relocate Tent] option, spending another $4.99 to place it directly over her.
Remaining Balance: $378.91
What… What????
Michael couldn't believe it. How much did he just spend???
Aiko gasped as the tent materialized around her, sheltering her from the icy spray. She crawled inside, her ragged breaths fogging the air.
"Kami-sama… you're still here…"
Aiko stood up.
Then, she bowed toward the empty air.
"Kami-sama…"
"I trust that you will hear me."
"You gave me strength when I had none. You armed me when I was defenseless."
"I won't waste this chance. I'll clear my name. I'll protect Father—even if he hates me."
A notification popped on Michael's screen:
[Bond Level Increased! 25% → 35%!]
Michael barely registered it. His brain was stuck on a loop:
$378.91…
$378.91…$378.91…
Over six hundred dollars gone in less than an hour. His throat tightened as the adrenaline from the fight drained away, leaving a hollow, sick feeling.
I'm insane. I'm actually insane.
He'd spent nearly as much as the hospital's co-pay for his last surgery. On virtual swords and fake lightning.
But Aiko's face filled the screen now, alive and breathing, her eyes wide with wonder as she knelt beside Yuriko's body.
The sight hooked into his chest like a fishhook.
"Kami-sama…"
Aiko pressed her forehead to the tent floor, her newly restored strength already sapped by the fading curse. "You… you gave me justice. You believed me."
Michael's thumb hovered over the home button. Do it. Close it. Now. His finger shook. She's not real. She's code. She's—
Aiko lifted her head, tears streaking the dirt on her cheeks.
"For months, I prayed to any god who'd listen. I begged for death. For proof that my heart wasn't black." Her fingers dug into the tatami mat.
"But you… you showed me the truth. You fought for me."
The home button taunted him. One tap and she's gone. But his hand wouldn't move.
Aiko knelt on the tent floor, her breath still ragged from the fight.
Yuriko's body lay cooling nearby. Aiko turned her face upward, tears streaking the dirt on her cheeks.
"Kami-sama… I don't know if you can hear me," she whispered. "For months, I wished for death. Every night in that cage, I wondered… why was I born? Why did I survive when my family, my honor, everything I loved was torn away?"
She closed her eyes, memories flooding her—the jeers of the Teahouse patrons, the sting of branding irons, the suffocating hopelessness.
"I tried to be strong. I told myself that if I endured, the gods would see my worth. But no one came. No one answered. Until… you."
Her fingers brushed the healed scar on her wrist, where shackles had once bitten into flesh.
"You healed me. Fed me. Gave me shelter. When I had no strength left, you fought for me." A sob broke free, raw and aching. "Why? Why would a god waste power on a disgraced prisoner?"
The tent remained silent, but Aiko felt warmth bloom in her chest—foreign yet comforting.
She pressed her palm over her heart. "You showed me the truth. You gave me justice. Not because I deserved it, but… because you chose to."
Her spine straightened, defiance cutting through her tears. "I won't waste this second chance. I'll clear my name. I'll protect Father, even if he curses me. And I'll expose Himari's lies, no matter the cost."
She bowed low, forehead touching the floor.
"Thank you, Kami-sama. For seeing value in a broken thing."
Michael stared at his phone.
His throat felt tight, his remaining hand gripping the device so hard his knuckles paled. The heart monitor beeped erratically beside him, matching the frantic rhythm in his chest.
She thinks I'm a god.
Guilt twisted his gut. He was no deity—just an one-armed college student trapped in a rotting hospital bed. Yet Aiko's gratitude, her faith, clawed at the numbness he'd wrapped around himself since the accident.
Stupid. Irresponsible.
His mother's face flashed in his mind—her calloused hands counting out tuition money, pride shining in her eyes as he'd left for Tenesia.
"Make something of yourself, Mikey."
Now he was here: one-armed, nearly broke, and dumping cash into a scammy app.
But then he looked back at Aiko. Really looked.
Her hands trembled as she lit a stick of incense scavenged from the tent—a makeshift offering to her "kami". Her movements were clumsy, her cursed body still weak, but determination hardened her features.
She reminded him of himself on the mound during the ninth inning, bases loaded, sweat dripping down his neck as he stared down the batter. That desperate, furious hope.
We're the same.
The realization hit like a fastball to the ribs.
Both of them—broken, trapped, fighting to survive in worlds that had discarded them. The difference? He had a choice. He could still try to salvage his pathetic reality.
Aiko? She had nothing but the flickering hope he'd sparked.
A notification blinked:
[Bond Level Increased! 35% → 40%!]
[One-time Ability Unlocked: Voice Chat (Trial)!]
[Speak to Aiko for 10 seconds!]
Michael's breath caught. Voice chat? His thumb hovered over the button. What would he even say? "Hey, I'm not a god, just some cripple blowing his savings on you"?
Aiko's voice piped through the speaker, soft but steady. "I know you're listening, Kami-sama. I… I wish I could hear your voice. To thank you properly."
The plea undid him. He mashed the [Voice Chat] button.
The air crackled.
Aiko jerked backward as static pricked her skin. A deep, rasping voice—unlike any she'd heard—boomed around her.
"You don't… owe me anything."
Her heart seized. Kami-sama's voice! It sounded strained, as if every word caused pain, but it thrummed with raw power.
"You—" She scrambled to bow properly, forehead pressed to the floor. "I-I'm unworthy of your presence! Forgive my weakness, I—"
"Stop." The voice hardened, then softened. "You're not weak."
Aiko froze. No one had spoken to her with such… kindness since her father's betrayal.
"Himari framed you." Static distorted the words, but urgency sharpened them. "Tatsuya… assassin… coming. Prepare."
The connection sputtered. Aiko lunged forward, desperate. "Wait! Please—!"
Silence fell.
Aiko crumpled, trembling. Kami-sama's voice lingered in her mind—not the thunderous command of a deity, but the ragged whisper of someone fighting. Like her.
"You're hurting too," she murmured. "Aren't you?"
The [Voice Chat] timer hit zero. Michael slumped against his pillows, sweat soaking his gown. Speaking had sapped him like he'd sprinted a mile. His stump ached, that phantom itch crawling up his nonexistent arm.
But Aiko's face on the screen—awestruck, hopeful—made the pain fade.
A new alert flashed:
[Tatsuya's ETA: 18 hours]