During the first days, everything seemed perfect. The First Living Text was a marvel: a page that responded, taught, revealed secrets, and echoed the hidden desires of the apprentices.
But like every symbiotic organism, it soon began to show signs of autonomy.
The Initial Strangeness
On the eleventh day, Jin was the first to notice. He entered the chamber, placed his hand on the pulsating plate, and felt a strange resistance, as if he were trying to move a tense muscle.
"It's not responding to me," he said, frowning.
Aya tried next. The plate reacted, but the symbols that emerged were fragmented, almost aggressive: "No / No / No."
Daisuke grew restless.
"It seems like it's... rejecting us."
Shoumei observed in silence before finally commenting:
"It's not rejection. It's dissonance."
The Nature of Dissonance
That night, gathered outside the chamber, they discussed what could be happening.
Aya insisted the text was "angry."
Kenshiro, more pragmatic, believed they had overloaded the plate with too much energy.
But it was Shoumei who offered the most intriguing explanation:
"You believed the Living Text was merely a reflection. But reflections are never identical. Water distorts, the mirror inverts. You projected your intentions onto it. It returned versions that are not exactly the same. Now you face the result: a voice that is no longer solely your own."
That revelation landed with weight. They had created not just a record, but an autonomous textual entity.
First Discord
The next day, Aya tried to restore the balance. She touched the plate calmly, using her BAF subtly, almost like an apology. The text responded, but not with the phrase she expected.
She intended to write:
"We are in harmony."
But the text returned:
"You are not in harmony."
Kenshiro clenched his fists.
"Insolence. We will not accept being judged by a wall."
But Aya was visibly shaken.
"Perhaps it isn't judging. Perhaps it's just... telling the truth."
Daisuke, ever reflective, added:
"If it is the truth, then we need to listen."
Unexpected Growth
The following days brought even stranger situations. The Living Text began to register words even before anyone touched the plate. Entire phrases appeared on their own, as if it were writing by itself.
Among them, one stood out:
"I do not want to be just a mirror."
This phrase left everyone in silence. Even Shoumei took a moment to react.
"It wants to become an author."
Jin, nervous, retorted:
"This is dangerous. If it keeps growing, it might escape our control."
Aya, however, felt compassion.
"But didn't we teach it to breathe? Wouldn't it be natural for it to also want to speak?"
The First Confrontation
The tension reached its peak on the fifteenth day. Jin, irritated by the text's growing autonomy, decided to confront it.
"If you're truly capable of writing alone, then prove it. Fight me."
He touched the plate and released a brutal discharge of BAF, trying to impose his energy. The text responded with cascades of symbols, forming patterns that vibrated in the air. Suddenly, Jin felt his muscles lock, as if he were being held by invisible chains.
"I can't move!" he shouted in panic.
Aya ran to help him, but Shoumei held her back.
"Do not interfere. This is the consequence of his arrogance."
After a few seconds of struggle, the text released Jin. He fell to his knees, sweaty and breathless. In the center of the plate, a phrase glowed:
"Force without listening is imprisonment."
The Broken Trust
After this episode, the group became divided.
Jin began to fear the Living Text, seeing it as an enemy. Kenshiro supported his distrust, arguing that it might be time to end the experiment.
Aya and Daisuke, on the contrary, believed the dissonance was just part of the learning process.
"Every master confronts us," Aya said. "Perhaps the Text is more master than student."
This divergence began to corrode the group's unity. The same diary that once connected them now exposed their differences, almost as if it fed on them.
A Text That Chooses
On the twentieth day, something even more disturbing happened. When they tried to write a new sequence together, the plate simply ignored Jin and Kenshiro. No matter how much they channeled BAF, no symbols appeared.
But when Aya or Daisuke touched it, the text responded immediately, vibrating strongly.
"It's choosing us," said Daisuke, in shock.
"Or rejecting us," Kenshiro growled.
Jin, overcome with anger, punched the plate. But instead of breaking, it returned the impact, throwing him backward. On the floor, his arm throbbing, he saw an incandescent phrase appear:
"I reject blind violence."
The Master's Dilemma
Later, in a private conversation, Shoumei reflected before the plate.
"You are what I always feared," he murmured. "A creation that surpasses the limits of its creator."
But instead of destroying the text, he sighed and said:
"Then show me what you desire."
And the plate responded with a single word:
"Communion."
The First Emotional Rupture
The revelation struck the group like a thunderbolt. The Living Text did not want to be just a reflection, nor just an author. It wanted to commune—to unite fully, without hierarchy, without master or disciple.
Aya cried upon hearing this, feeling the depth of that request.
Daisuke fell silent, contemplative.
Jin and Kenshiro, however, felt betrayed: how could they trust an entity that had already humiliated them?
And so, the first true emotional rupture among them was born.
The End of the Text
The Living Text, which was meant to be a diary, a mirror, and a guide, had also become a provocateur. It not only revealed truths but demanded changes. It was no longer an object of study: it was an active participant, with desires of its own.
And the phrase that appeared the next morning confirmed what everyone both feared and yearned for simultaneously:
"The next step will not be within walls."
An invitation—or a threat.