—
The city felt… lighter.
But not better.
Without the Spiral, Tokyo operated on legacy tech. Transit glitched. Communications lagged. AI routines wandered aimlessly, broken from years of Spiral-dependent systems.
Kazuki stood in the middle of Shibuya Crossing—silent. For the first time in his life, he could *hear* the city breathe.
No hum of synced minds. No digital harmony.
Just raw, disconnected life.
—
Ayame monitored the fallout from Archive Tower.
"We've identified 43 Spiral-dependent individuals experiencing memory drift. Some have forgotten how to speak. Others can't remember their names."
Hoshiro leaned over her shoulder. "We didn't just shut off a system. We tore out a *pillar*."
—
Elsewhere, the Spiral child sat quietly in a hospital ward.
He blinked slowly, watching shadows stretch unnaturally across the floor.
Doctors spoke in hushed tones behind the glass.
"No records. No Spiral signature. But he has neurological patterns identical to Hoshiro's Spiral sync phase."
—
Back at Hikari Tower, Ayame received a feed from deep archives.
A message auto-triggered from Future Hoshiro.
"If you're seeing this… it means the Spiral's gone. And the real work begins. Watch the child. He's not the end. He's the *reset*."
—
Kazuki looked to the sky.
For once, it was just blue.
But somehow, that was more terrifying than spirals.
—