It was a Friday afternoon, the kind of slow-moving day where the air buzzed faintly with anticipation for the weekend. Students shuffled through the last periods, minds already drifting toward home. But for the trio, the final bell wouldn't mark the end of the day.
Souta Minakawa stood at the edge of the staff room window, arms crossed as he watched the students scatter through the school grounds like freed birds. His eyes followed a familiar trio.
Yamada Koji, who now carried his books with a sense of purpose rather than obligation.
Kana Ishikawa, whose once scattershot curiosity had become focused and probing.
And Takeshi Murata, still rough around the edges, but now spending his free time tinkering with circuitry rather than goofing off.
They were growing. The system's quiet architecture had begun to take root in them.
But it was time they knew.
He called them to the old biology lab after school. It was rarely used, and its dusty stillness made it the perfect place for private talks. The overhead lights flickered to life with a low hum.
They filed in one by one, curious but calm. Not anxious—they trusted him now, even if they didn't know why.
Souta gestured toward the stools. "Sit. This won't take long."
Takeshi raised an eyebrow, sliding onto the stool. "You're not giving us more homework, are you?"
"Not exactly," Souta replied.
Kana tilted her head. "Then what is it?"
Yamada, who had been quiet as usual, simply watched their teacher with a searching gaze.
Souta took a breath. He had rehearsed this moment, but now that it had arrived, he realized no script would do it justice.
"You three have changed these past few weeks," he said.
Takeshi chuckled. "Well, I haven't been sent to the principal in days, so yeah, I guess that counts."
"It's more than that," Souta said, stepping closer to the desk between them. "You've all been given something. A gift, in a way. But also a responsibility."
Kana straightened. "What do you mean, 'given'?"
Yamada lowered his eyes. "The... interface. That glow. It wasn't random."
Souta nodded slowly. "It wasn't."
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Kana was the first to react. "So it was you?"
He met her gaze. "Yes."
Takeshi leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Wait, hold on. You gave us that thing? The... whatever it is? The floating screen?"
"Subsystem," Yamada said softly.
Souta nodded. "I don't fully understand what it is yet. Only that it was given to me first. And part of its function allows me to connect others to it—to share it, in a limited way."
"Why us?" Kana asked, her tone neither accusing nor fearful. Just... curious.
"Because each of you has something rare," Souta said. "The ability to grow. Not just in knowledge, but in thought. In focus. In the desire to push past what the world expects of you."
Takeshi looked at his hands. "So it's not just some weird hallucination... I thought I was going crazy when I saw it."
"You're not crazy," Souta assured him.
"What does it do?" Kana asked. "I mean really. We get points. We spend them to think better. But what is it for?"
Souta leaned against the old counter, the scent of old chemicals faint in the air.
"It cultivates. That's the best word I can think of. It rewards effort, curiosity, discipline. The more you learn, the more you grow—literally. Your mind sharpens, your lifespan might even extend, though that part is... more complicated."
Kana blinked. "Lifespan?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said, holding up a hand. "That part will come later. For now, all you need to know is that the system enhances you based on what you do."
Yamada finally spoke again. "You chose us. But how do you know we won't misuse it?"
Souta smiled faintly. "Because it doesn't work that way. You can't cheat it. The system doesn't respond to lies or shortcuts. It's bound to your intentions as much as your actions."
The room fell quiet again, the hum of the light overhead the only sound.
Kana exhaled. "So what now?"
Souta pulled a chair from the corner and sat across from them. His tone grew softer.
"Now, we continue. You keep doing what you've been doing. Learning. Observing. Growing. Only now, you understand why."
"Is there an end goal?" Takeshi asked. "Like, are we going to become... superheroes or something?"
That drew a quiet chuckle from Souta. "No capes, if that's what you mean. But one day, you might become someone who can change the world. Maybe not with powers. But with ideas. With leadership. With innovation."
Kana looked thoughtful. "And we keep it secret?"
"For now," Souta said. "This kind of thing... it needs time. Like a seed."
Yamada finally smiled. "One that grows slowly. But roots run deep."
Souta gave a small nod. "Exactly."
The students left the lab slowly, their minds heavier than before, but clearer.
They didn't speak of it openly, not even to one another. But each of them felt it. A shift. A new weight to carry, but also a kind of warmth. Trust.
Back in the lab, Souta remained seated.
He opened the interface only briefly, just enough to see the quiet flicker of resonance from each student. A pulse that confirmed something unspoken:
They were ready.
And this time, they knew what they were a part of.
The path ahead would grow stranger. Harder. But also richer.
He looked toward the dusty window, where the fading sunlight painted long golden beams across the floor.
And he whispered to no one,
"Let's begin."