At 9 PM, exactly one hour after the last of the tournament spectators had left the school grounds, Kenji found himself standing outside the darkened Sakura High School library. The building was officially closed, but a single light glowed from within, and the front door was conspicuously unlocked.
He'd changed out of his volleyball uniform and back into casual clothes, though he still wore his championship medal—partly to maintain the fiction that he was a celebrating teenager, and partly because he'd actually earned the thing and wasn't quite ready to take it off yet.
Agent Sato was positioned in the school parking lot with a clear view of the building and communication equipment to call for backup if needed. The plan was simple: Kenji would attend the meeting, gather as much intelligence as possible about the conspiracy, and get out without blowing his cover or accidentally joining a criminal organization.
Simple in theory, anyway.
The library was dimly lit by a handful of desk lamps arranged around a circle of chairs near the reference section. As Kenji entered, he could smell the unmistakable aroma of vanilla pudding wafting through the air.
"Kenji-kun!" Nurse Yamada's voice called out from the shadows. "You came! I'm so proud of you for winning tonight!"
She emerged from behind the circulation desk wearing civilian clothes that somehow made her look younger and more attractive, which did nothing to improve Kenji's comfort level with the situation.
"Thank you for inviting me," he replied carefully.
"Of course! This is such an important night for you—winning the championship and taking the next step in your personal development!"
"What kind of personal development?"
"You'll see! Principal Watanabe will explain everything. He's so excited to work with you more closely."
As if summoned by his name, Principal Watanabe appeared from the stacks carrying a tray of what appeared to be professionally prepared pudding cups in various flavors.
"Takahashi-kun! Congratulations again on your outstanding performance tonight. Truly exceptional for someone so young."
"Thank you, sir."
"Please, have a seat. We have several other guests joining us this evening."
As Kenji took one of the chairs in the circle, three other people emerged from different areas of the library. To his surprise, they weren't all school staff—there was another student, a woman in her thirties wearing a business suit, and someone who looked like he could be a college professor.
"Let me introduce everyone," Principal Watanabe said, taking his place at the center of the circle. "This is Dr. Matsumoto from the International Development Consortium's research division."
The business-suited woman nodded professionally. "Pleasure to meet you, Takahashi-kun. I've heard excellent things about your potential."
"Professor Tanaka from Waseda University's psychology department."
The academic-looking man adjusted his glasses. "Very interesting case study you represent, young man."
"And this is Sato Hiroshi, one of our current student participants."
The other student was a senior Kenji recognized from the hallways but had never actually spoken to. He looked relaxed and happy in a way that seemed slightly... off.
"Hi, Takahashi-kun!" Sato Hiroshi said with enthusiasm that seemed artificial. "You're going to love this program! It's changed my whole life!"
"How so?" Kenji asked.
"I used to worry about everything—grades, social situations, the future. But after participating in the nutrition program, I feel so much more... positive about everything! Like all my stress just melted away!"
There was something robotic about the way he spoke, like he was reciting talking points rather than expressing genuine feelings.
"That's wonderful," Principal Watanabe said with satisfaction. "Hiroshi has been with us for six months now, and his transformation has been remarkable. Better grades, better social interactions, better overall life satisfaction."
"What exactly is the nutrition program?" Kenji asked.
"I'm so glad you asked!" Dr. Matsumoto pulled out a tablet and began displaying charts and graphs. "The IDC has spent years developing a comprehensive approach to enhancing human potential through targeted nutritional intervention."
"Meaning?"
"We've identified specific combinations of compounds that can improve cognitive function, reduce anxiety, enhance physical performance, and promote positive social behaviors."
"Through pudding."
"Through carefully formulated delivery systems that happen to be dessert-based," Professor Tanaka corrected. "The pleasant taste and familiar format encourage compliance while the active ingredients work to optimize neural chemistry."
Kenji felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't just about pudding—they were talking about mind control through food.
"What kinds of active ingredients?" he asked, trying to maintain the curious tone of an interested teenager.
"Various compounds," Nurse Yamada said vaguely. "Natural supplements that support healthy brain function."
"Could you be more specific?"
Dr. Matsumoto and Principal Watanabe exchanged glances.
"That's rather technical information," Dr. Matsumoto said carefully. "Perhaps we should start with a demonstration of the program's benefits."
She gestured to the tray of pudding cups. "We've prepared several different formulations for you to try. Each one is designed to produce specific effects—enhanced focus, reduced anxiety, improved mood, increased confidence."
"What if I don't want any specific effects?"
"Everyone wants to be their best self," Professor Tanaka said with the kind of smile that made Kenji's skin crawl. "These formulations simply help you achieve your natural potential."
"By altering brain chemistry?"
"By optimizing brain chemistry," Dr. Matsumoto corrected. "Think of it as... fine-tuning. Like adjusting a musical instrument to play more beautifully."
"What happens if someone doesn't want to be fine-tuned?"
The atmosphere in the room shifted slightly. The adults' smiles became a little more fixed, and Sato Hiroshi's expression took on a confused quality.
"Why wouldn't someone want to improve themselves?" Nurse Yamada asked, moving closer to Kenji's chair. "Don't you want to be happier? More confident? Better at the things you care about?"
"I want to be myself."
"But what if yourself could be better?" Principal Watanabe leaned forward. "What if you could have all the same personality traits and interests, but with less anxiety, better focus, and more positive interactions with others?"
"That doesn't sound like being myself. That sounds like being a modified version of myself."
"Modification implies something unnatural," Professor Tanaka said. "We prefer to think of it as... enhancement. Like contact lenses enhance vision, or vitamins enhance nutrition."
"Contact lenses and vitamins don't change how I think or feel."
"Neither do our formulations, really. They just help you think and feel more clearly."
The circular logic was making Kenji's head hurt, and he was starting to understand how they recruited people. The arguments sounded reasonable on the surface, but they were based on the premise that everyone needed to be "improved" according to their definition.
"What's the ultimate goal of this program?" he asked.
"Happiness," Dr. Matsumoto said simply. "We want to create a world where people are more satisfied with their lives, more positive in their relationships, and more productive in their endeavors."
"A world where everyone thinks the same way?"
"A world where everyone thinks more clearly," Principal Watanabe corrected. "Where negative emotions don't interfere with rational decision-making, where social conflicts are minimized, where people can reach their full potential."
"That sounds like a dystopian novel."
"It sounds like utopia to us," Nurse Yamada said, sitting down in the chair next to Kenji's. "Imagine a world without depression, without anxiety, without the kind of negative thinking that holds people back from their dreams."
"What about creativity? Innovation? The kind of thinking that comes from questioning things?"
"Those would all be enhanced," Professor Tanaka assured him. "Our formulations don't suppress creativity—they remove the mental barriers that prevent people from expressing their true potential."
"Like the barrier that makes me question whether mind-altering pudding is a good idea?"
The room fell silent for a moment. Sato Hiroshi looked confused, as if the concept of questioning the program literally didn't compute for him anymore.
"You're very perceptive," Dr. Matsumoto said finally. "That's exactly why we want to work with you. Most people your age accept what they're told without thinking critically. But you ask the right questions."
"And then you answer them with more pudding?"
"We answer them with results," Principal Watanabe said, gesturing to Sato Hiroshi. "Tell Takahashi-kun about your experience, Hiroshi."
"It's amazing!" Sato Hiroshi said with that same artificial enthusiasm. "I used to worry about everything—tests, girls, what people thought of me. But now I just... don't. I can see that those worries were holding me back from being happy."
"Don't you miss... feeling things strongly? Being passionate about stuff?"
Sato Hiroshi looked genuinely puzzled by the question. "Why would I miss feeling bad? Now I feel good all the time. Isn't that better?"
"What about when something actually bad happens? Don't you need to feel bad sometimes to know something's wrong?"
"Nothing feels bad anymore," Sato Hiroshi replied with a smile that made Kenji's blood run cold. "Even when things go wrong, I can see the positive side. It's so much better this way."
Kenji looked around the circle at the adults, who were watching his reaction with the intensity of scientists observing an experiment.
"How many students are in this program?" he asked.
"Globally? About fifteen thousand across seventeen countries," Dr. Matsumoto replied proudly. "Growing by about five hundred new participants each month."
"And they all end up like Hiroshi?"
"They all end up happier and more productive," Principal Watanabe corrected. "The specific personality changes vary from individual to individual, but the overall improvement in life satisfaction is consistent."
"What about long-term effects?"
"We've been running trials for three years now," Professor Tanaka said. "No negative side effects, and the benefits appear to be permanent once the neural pathways are properly established."
"Permanent?"
"The beautiful thing about our approach," Nurse Yamada explained, "is that once someone's brain chemistry is optimized, it tends to stay that way. They don't need ongoing treatment—just occasional maintenance doses."
"Maintenance doses of what?"
"The same nutritional supplements, just less frequently. Maybe once a month instead of daily."
Kenji realized he was looking at something far worse than he'd originally imagined. This wasn't just a conspiracy to distribute experimental food—it was a systematic program to permanently alter the personalities of thousands of young people around the world.
"What if someone wanted to stop the program?" he asked. "What if they changed their mind?"
The adults exchanged glances again, and this time the silence stretched longer.
"Why would someone want to stop feeling better?" Dr. Matsumoto asked carefully.
"Because they realized they weren't themselves anymore?"
"But they would be a better version of themselves."
"According to who?"
"According to objective measures of wellbeing and life satisfaction," Professor Tanaka said, pulling out more charts. "Participants show improved academic performance, better social relationships, reduced conflict with authority figures, and higher reported happiness levels."
"They also show reduced creativity, less questioning of authority, and apparently no interest in stopping a program that permanently changes their brain chemistry."
"Those aren't problems," Principal Watanabe said patiently. "Those are features. A society where people are happier, more compliant, and less prone to destructive behaviors is a better society."
"For who?"
"For everyone. Including the participants themselves."
Kenji looked at Sato Hiroshi, who was nodding along with everything the adults said with the vacant enthusiasm of someone who'd lost the ability to think critically.
"Has anyone ever tried to leave the program?" he asked.
"The question doesn't really arise," Dr. Matsumoto replied. "Once people experience the benefits, they don't want to go back to their previous state of mind."
"Because they can't think clearly enough to realize what's been done to them."
"Because they're happier," Nurse Yamada insisted. "Isn't happiness the ultimate goal?"
"Not if it's artificial happiness that comes at the cost of free will."
"Free will is overrated," Professor Tanaka said dismissively. "Most people use their free will to make themselves miserable. We're offering them something better."
"You're offering them mind control disguised as self-improvement."
The atmosphere in the room shifted again, becoming noticeably cooler.
"You're being very resistant to this concept," Principal Watanabe observed. "That's actually quite unusual for someone your age. Most teenagers are much more open to new experiences."
"Maybe that's because most teenagers haven't been exposed to as much... life experience as I have."
"Yes, that's something we've noticed about you. Your unusual maturity for someone so young. It makes you an ideal candidate for our advanced program."
"Advanced program?"
"Rather than starting with the standard formulations, we'd like to offer you a more sophisticated introduction to the benefits. Something designed specifically for someone with your level of... development."
Dr. Matsumoto pulled out a special pudding cup that looked different from the others—darker, more complex, with what appeared to be gold flecks mixed into the chocolate.
"This is our premium formulation," she explained. "Designed for individuals who demonstrate exceptional potential for leadership and influence."
"What does it do?"
"It enhances all the standard benefits while also promoting what we call 'positive authority'—the ability to guide others toward better choices, to be a role model for the kind of person everyone can become."
"You want me to help recruit other students."
"We want you to help other students become their best selves," Nurse Yamada corrected. "Just like we're helping you become yours."
Kenji stared at the special pudding cup, realizing that this was the moment of truth. Accept it, and he'd potentially gain access to the full scope of their operation—but at the cost of his own mental autonomy. Refuse it, and he'd blow his cover and lose the chance to gather the intelligence needed to stop them.
"Can I think about it?" he asked.
"Of course!" Principal Watanabe said, though his smile seemed forced. "Though I should mention that this particular formulation is quite time-sensitive. The compounds begin to degrade after a few hours outside of refrigeration."
"How convenient."
"It's just the nature of the chemistry involved. But don't worry—if you're not ready tonight, we can prepare another batch for you later."
"How much later?"
"Well, we'd need to assess your continued suitability for the advanced program. Your questions tonight have been... interesting. They suggest a level of skepticism that might need to be addressed before you're ready for the leadership track."
The threat was clear: take the pudding now, or risk being forced into the standard program later.
"What happens if I say no entirely?"
"No to what?" Dr. Matsumoto asked innocently.
"No to the whole program. No to the pudding, no to the enhancement, no to becoming a 'better version' of myself."
"That would be... unfortunate," Principal Watanabe said slowly. "Not just for you, but for the other students who could benefit from your influence."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that someone with your natural leadership abilities and social influence has a responsibility to use those gifts wisely. If you choose not to participate in our program, you might inadvertently influence other students to make the same choice."
"And that would be bad because...?"
"Because it would deprive them of the opportunity to improve their lives."
"Or because it would interfere with your plan to brainwash them."
The pretense of friendliness finally dropped completely.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Dr. Matsumoto said, her voice becoming clinical and cold. "This isn't a negotiation, Takahashi-kun. This is an opportunity. One that won't be offered again."
"What happens if I refuse?"
"You won't refuse," Professor Tanaka said with confidence. "Because you're a smart young man who can see the benefits of what we're offering. And because you care about your fellow students too much to let them miss out on those benefits."
"You're threatening the other students?"
"We're simply pointing out that your choices have consequences for the people around you. If you participate in our program, you can help ensure that your classmates have the best possible experience. If you don't..."
He let the sentence hang in the air.
Kenji looked around the circle again—at the adults who thought they were saving the world by destroying individual autonomy, at Sato Hiroshi who no longer had the capacity to question what had been done to him, at the special pudding cup that represented a choice between maintaining his identity and potentially protecting others.
His phone buzzed with a text. He glanced at it quickly and saw a message from Agent Sato: "Everything okay? You've been in there for an hour."
An hour. Had he really been listening to this pitch for an entire hour? It felt like minutes, but also like eternity.
"I need to use the bathroom," he said, standing up from his chair.
"Of course," Principal Watanabe said. "But don't take too long. As I mentioned, the formulation is time-sensitive."
Kenji walked toward the library's restroom, his mind racing. He needed to get word to Agent Sato about what he'd learned, but he also needed to figure out how to get out of this situation without completely blowing their investigation.
In the bathroom, he quickly texted: "Full mind control operation. 15k students globally. Need extraction plan."
The response came immediately: "On my way. Stall them."
Kenji took a deep breath and returned to the circle, where the adults were waiting with expressions of polite expectation.
"So," Dr. Matsumoto said as he sat down, "have you made your decision?"
Kenji looked at the special pudding cup, then at the faces around him—people who genuinely believed they were improving the world by eliminating everything that made human beings human.
"I have a few more questions," he said.
It was time to stall, gather as much intelligence as possible, and hope that Agent Sato had a plan for getting them both out of this mess alive.
The pudding conspiracy was real, it was global, and it was far worse than either of them had imagined.
And somehow, he was still pretending to be seventeen years old.