For Kaito, the definition of a "perfect day" was a blank canvas. Not a canvas waiting to be painted, but an empty, untouched canvas, stored in a dark basement where no one would ever find it.
His apartment was the personification of this philosophy. Minimalist, not out of elegance, but out of pure optimization of effort. There was a futon, which he rarely bothered to fold; a low kotatsu table, currently turned off; a small kitchenette with a microwave and an electric kettle; and a worn-out beanbag chair positioned perfectly in front of his small television.
The morning sunlight, which poets might describe as "golden" or "promising," was, to Kaito, just a source of irritation and unnecessary heat. He blocked it out with heavy blackout curtains. The birds singing outside were noise pollution. The world outside was constantly demanding. Demanding attention, demanding effort, demanding reactions.
Kaito had none of that to give.
He sat on his beanbag chair, eyes half-closed, finishing his meal of the day: a bowl of seafood-flavored instant noodles, which he had prepared with lukewarm tap water because waiting for the kettle to boil seemed like an unnecessary effort. The taste was vague and disappointing, which matched his mood perfectly.
On the TV, the morning news was on, but muted. An anchor was speaking with urgency, probably about politics, or the weather, or some problematic celebrity. Kaito didn't care. It was just visual noise.
His philosophy was simple: "If it doesn't affect me directly and doesn't require effort, I don't care." It was a mantra that served him well.
He felt the old, familiar pang rise in his throat. A dense, formless sadness that lived permanently in his chest. He hated it. Hated not knowing why it was there. He vaguely remembered a time when he tried to speak—about an award he won in school, about a book he liked. He remembered his parents' eyes passing right through him, as if he were a ghost, more interested in the evening news than in his existence.
"Whatever," he muttered to himself.
Apathy was easier. Apathy was armor. If you don't care, you can't get hurt. If you don't engage, you can't be ignored.
It was then that physics decided to take a vacation in his living room.
A low hum began, like a million flies trapped in amber. The air above his trash can—a small plastic basket next to the TV—began to tremble. Kaito watched, uninterested, as the space folded. A small point of darkness appeared and then tore open, ripping apart like a wound.
A portal. A swirling vortex of deep purple and black energy, crackling with cosmic power. It smelled like ozone and old books.
Any other protagonist would have screamed, or armed themselves, or at the very least, stood up.
Kaito looked at the portal. Then he looked at the empty instant noodle cup in his hand. He considered the distance to the kitchen. He considered the distance to the trash can, which was now a portal to oblivion.
The portal was closer.
With a sigh that sounded like the last gasp of a dying man, Kaito leaned forward and, with a casual flick of his wrist, tossed the styrofoam cup directly into the center of the vortex.
The portal made a sad zwoop sound and swallowed the trash.
Kaito leaned back. "I hope that doesn't attract cosmic rats," he pondered, before closing his eyes. "How troublesome."
The portal, however, seemed offended. It gagged. It hissed. And then, with the fury of a dimensional stomach rejecting a spoiled meal, it convulsed.
A figure was violently spat out of the vortex, skidding across the tatami floor and stopping in an awkward pile of limbs and ribbons.
Kaito opened one eye.
The figure scrambled to her feet, wiping seafood broth and small bits of noodle from her hot-pink hair. It was a girl. A small girl, dressed in an outfit of white and gold so bright and with so many ruffles that it hurt the eyes. She looked like an anime mascot who had lost a fight with a costume wardrobe.
She stomped her foot, and the floor trembled slightly. "WHO?! WHO DARES TO USE THE TRANSDIMENSIONAL NEXUS AS A GARBAGE CAN?! THAT IS A VIOLATION OF... of..."
She stopped. She looked at the apartment. She looked at Kaito.
Kaito looked at her. He slowly raised his hand, indicating himself as the culprit of the trash-tossing.
The girl's electric-blue eyes went wide. Her indignation melted away, replaced by a gleam of recognition that made Kaito's stomach churn.
"YOU!" she shrieked, her voice hitting a high-pitched tone that threatened to break glass. "YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE! THE PROTAGONIST! THE CENTER OF THE WORLD! THE GREAT..."
Kaito didn't let her finish.
On his side table, there was a rolled-up TV guide, which he kept for the sole purpose of killing the occasional, troublesome mosquito. He stood up, picked up the magazine, and with the same energy one would use to straighten a picture frame, gave her a firm swat on the top of her head.
POK.
The world went silent.
The girl froze, her mouth open in a perfect 'O'. A small, almost comical, red bump began to sprout on her scalp.
"How troublesome," Kaito muttered, his voice flat. "You're loud."
He turned to go back to his beanbag.
"THAT HURTS!" she screamed, tears instantly welling in her eyes. "I AM FIA! A SYSTEM-GODDESS! YOU CAN'T HIT YOUR GUIDE GODDESS!"
"I can," Kaito said, sitting down. "And I will, if you don't quiet down."
Fia was about to explode in a supernova of indignation when a different sound, a clear, celestial ding, echoed through the room.
A translucent blue screen appeared in front of Kaito's face, blocking his view of the muted TV.
[URGENT SYSTEM MISSION ACTIVATED!] [World in Peril: 001-BGS (Bunny Girl Senpai)] [Objective: Save the Maiden of Invisibility!] [Description: A lost soul wanders the library, her existence fading due to mass Quantum Observation Effect. If not anchored, she will vanish from reality, causing a temporal paradox.] [Target: Mai Sakurajima] [Reward: +100 Bond Points, +10 Affinity (Mai Sakurajima)] [Accept?] (Y/N)
Kaito stared at the screen. He saw the (Y) and (N) options. He also saw, in the top-right corner, a small [X] icon and a [Minimize] button.
His finger moved with surprising speed. He pressed [X].
The screen disappeared.
The silence that followed was even louder than Fia's shriek. The Goddess looked as if she had been struck by lightning.
"Did you... did you... did you close it?" she stammered, incredulous. "YOU CLOSED AN URGENT MAIN-WORLD MISSION?! SHE'S GOING TO... SHE'S GOING TO DISAPPEAR IF YOU DON'T GO!"
"Good," Kaito said, sinking into the beanbag. "That's the point of closing things. Now, if you could..."
"NO! NO, NO, NO!" Fia was in a full-blown panic, running in circles. "The System doesn't allow this! The rules! If you ignore it, the paradox will leak! Her world will collapse and merge with yours!"
Kaito opened one eye. "Merge?"
"YES!" she wailed. "You'll have quantum anomalies everywhere! People vanishing, time rewinding, quantum bunnies appearing in your kitchen! Do you want that?!"
Kaito thought for a moment. Quantum bunnies. That sounded like something that would require cleaning.
He sighed. It was the sound of defeat. His peace, his blank canvas, was already irrevocably stained. Now, it was a matter of damage control.
"If I go," he said slowly, "will you shut up?"
Fia's eyes lit up. "YES! I mean, I have to guide you! But I'll guide quietly!"
Kaito looked at the still-humming portal, then at the useless, loud Goddess, and finally at the mission notification that had begun blinking in the corner of his vision again. He was being forced to interact. The universe was conspiring to annoy him.
His peace was broken. Now, he had to decide which was the path of least effort to, perhaps, get it back.
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