[As Ayumi wasn't accepting the fact, it contunied]
Takeshi held out his hand. The air above it shimmered like heat waves, then a spoon on the table lifted into the air, spun twice, and launched toward the wall.
It should have hit.
Instead, it reversed mid-flight like someone had hit rewind, landing gently back where it started.
Ayumi couldn't breathe. "That was—how—"
"My ability. I can reverse attacks back at their source. It manifested six weeks ago. Nearly killed me before I figured out control."
The barista brought drinks—he'd ordered for both of them—and left without noticing anything unusual.
"This is impossible," Ayumi whispered. "This violates physics."
"I know. But impossible doesn't mean untrue. And the fragment inside you will manifest eventually, whether you believe it or not. The only question is whether you'll have help learning to control it."
"And you're offering to help?"
"Yes. Me and two others. We're forming a team of four. You'd be the fourth."
"Why me?"
"Because your signature is strong. Stable. And because we need people we can trust. People who'll have each other's backs when things get dangerous."
"Dangerous how?"
"The Shibuya incident wasn't random. Someone caused it deliberately. They're organizing trials, tests. We don't know everything yet, but we know teams of four will be critical." His voice was serious. "When your ability manifests, it'll be dangerous. First manifestations almost always are. If you're alone, you could die. Please at least take my number."
He slid a business card across the table. Plain white, just his name and number.
Ayumi stared at it, then slipped it into her purse. "I'm not promising anything."
"I understand. But if you start seeing anything unusual—any glow around your hands, strange sensations—call immediately. Don't wait."
"If this is some prank Kaito Endo put you up to—"
"Kaito is actually one of our team members," Takeshi said. "But he has no idea I was meeting you today."
Ayumi's stomach dropped. "The guy who humiliated me is on your team?"
"Yes. I know that complicates things—"
"That doesn't complicate things. That makes this pointless. I'm not joining any team with him."
She stood to leave.
"He has the same fear driving his power as you're about to get," Takeshi said quietly. "The same need to control everything because chaos feels terrifying. I'm not saying you have to forgive him. But when your ability manifests and you're terrified—wouldn't you rather have someone nearby who's been through it?"
Ayumi stood frozen. "I'll think about it. That's all I can promise."
"That's all I'm asking."
The apartment smelled like old coffee when Ayumi got home. Her mother was on the couch in her bathrobe, still watching TV at 2 PM.
"Hi Mom. Have you eaten?"
"Had toast this morning."
"That was breakfast. Let me make lunch."
In the kitchen, Ayumi pulled together a simple meal. Rice from yesterday, miso soup, pickled vegetables. The familiar weight settled on her shoulders—the responsibility, the caretaking, the control she had to maintain.
As she scooped rice into a bowl, her mind returned to Takeshi's words. Your ability will manifest based on your core psychological truth.
What was her truth? Fear of being like her mother—depressed, unable to function? That she'd built her personality around being perfect, organized, the opposite of broken?
Her hands tightened on the rice paddle.
And then the rice started to change.
It happened so fast she almost didn't register it. One second, normal white rice. The next, her reflection staring back from the surface—not like a mirror, but the rice had transformed into an exact replica of her face. Perfect detail. Individual strands of hair. The small scar on her chin.
Ayumi dropped the paddle.
She stumbled backward until her spine hit the refrigerator, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
"No, no, no—"
The rice-face held for three seconds, then collapsed back to normal grains.
She looked at her hands.
They were glowing.
Soft golden light pulsed beneath her skin, radiating from her palms, spreading up her wrists. As she watched, frozen, the glow intensified up her forearms. She could feel it—something waking up inside her that had been sleeping her entire life.
The fragment. The essence.
It was real.
Her vision blurred. The kitchen was too small, walls closing in, couldn't breathe—
Her phone. Where was her phone?
She lunged for her purse, hands shaking so badly she could barely work the zipper. Found it. Takeshi's number already added without her consciously deciding.
She hit call.
Second ring: "Ayumi?"
"It's happening," she gasped. "The glow—my hands are glowing and the rice turned into my face and I can't control it—"
"Where are you?"
"Home. Kitchen. My mom—she can't see me like this—"
"I need your address. I'm coming now."
She rattled it off, barely recognizing her voice. The glow was spreading, brighter, and she could feel the essence trying to manifest something she didn't understand.
"I'm five minutes away. Maybe less. Just breathe. The glow won't hurt you. Stay in the kitchen and I'll be there."
The call stayed connected. Ayumi pressed the phone to her ear and focused on his footsteps, his breathing, the proof he was coming.
Three minutes.
The glow pulsed with her heartbeat. Her skin began to ripple like disturbed water, appearance shifting.
For one second, she saw her mother's face on her hands. Older, tired, depressed.
Then her father. Gone five years.
Then Mina, classmates, teachers, strangers—faces cycling faster, her body trying to become everyone and no one.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
"Describe it."
"My skin's changing. Different faces. Like I'm transforming into everyone I've ever seen."
"That's your ability manifesting. Transformation. Probably tied to your need to be whoever people need you to be. Does that sound right?"
It did. God help her, it did.
"How do I stop it?"
"You don't, not yet. Let it cycle. Don't fight it. I'm almost there. Thirty seconds."
Ayumi stood in her kitchen, transforming, while her mother sat fifteen feet away completely oblivious.
When someone knocked exactly twenty-three seconds later, she'd never been so relieved.
She yanked the door open. Takeshi stood there with two others.
Silver-haired Akira from school.
And Kaito Endo.
Of course.
Her golden glow exploded outward—panic, embarrassment, rage tangled together—and her transformation accelerated into a blur.
"You," she managed, voice echoing strangely. "You're—he's—"
"Deep breaths," Takeshi said, stepping inside. "We need to get you calm."
From the living room: "Ayumi? Who's at the door?"
Her eyes went wide. "My mom—she can't—"
Too late. Her mother appeared, bathrobe loose, hair unwashed.
She blinked at the three boys, then at her daughter.
"Oh, are your friends staying for dinner? I should get dressed." She shuffled back to her bedroom, completely oblivious to the golden glow.
Ayumi stared. "She can't see it?"
"Sometimes normals don't," Akira said quietly. "Their brains filter it out. Only essentials perceive manifestations clearly."
Takeshi moved to the kitchen, gesturing for Ayumi to follow. She did, on shaking legs, trying not to look at Kaito's calculating eyes tracking her transformations.
She hated that he was seeing this.
"This is insane," she said, gripping the counter. "I want it to stop. I want you all to leave—"
"Can't do that," Kaito said. His hands showed greenish-blue mist. "Trust me, I tried ignoring it. Doesn't work. The essence is part of you now."
She turned on him with pure anger. "Don't talk to me like we're friends. You humiliated me two days ago. And now you're in my home watching me fall apart and I can't—"
The golden glow exploded outward.
Kaito's mist erupted defensively. Akira phased. Takeshi's shimmer activated.
But Ayumi's transformation wasn't an attack. It was an implosion.
Her body shifted rapidly—tall, short, male, female, young, old, faces that couldn't exist in one person but did, all fighting for dominance.
Then she collapsed to her knees, glow sputtering out, gasping for breath.
"Make it stop," she pleaded. "Please."
Takeshi knelt beside her. "The essence responds to emotion. Fear spikes it. Panic makes it uncontrollable. You need to calm down."
"How am I supposed to calm down—"
"One thing at a time. Your transformation isn't random. It pulls from your subconscious—people you know, want to be, fear becoming. It's cycling because you're not directing it." He held out his hand, showing the shimmer. "My power comes from my need to protect, to reverse damage. Everything I am is reflected here."
Akira phased his hand through the counter. "Intangibility. From my need to disappear, to slip through cracks. I'm a ghost. My power makes me one literally."
They looked at Kaito.
He let the mist swirl. "Substance manipulation. Gas, liquid, solid. From my need to control my environment when my emotions feel uncontrollable."
Ayumi watched through tears. "So mine is because I adapt to what others need?"
"Yes. It's not weakness. It's versatile, powerful. But you need to understand it to control it."
"I don't even know who I am anymore."
"Then we figure it out together. That's what teams do."
"I haven't agreed—"
"I know. But whether you join or not, you have this power. It'll keep manifesting. You need training, understanding, allies." Takeshi offered his hand. "And what's coming—you'll be a target regardless. Better to face it with us than alone."
She took his hand, let him pull her up. The glow had faded, leaving her exhausted.
"Tomorrow. I'll explain everything. For tonight, avoid emotional extremes. Text if the glow starts again."
"And if I don't want to meet?"
"Then I'll respect that. But I hope you'll come."
At the door, Ayumi caught Kaito's sleeve.
"Why did you do it?" she asked quietly. "The prank. Why me?"
He met her eyes—no smirk, no deflection. Just uncertainty.
"Because you were there. Because you looked perfect and I wanted to break that. Not because of you. Because of who I am—someone who creates chaos when I can't control my own mess." His voice was low. "It wasn't personal, but that doesn't make it okay. I'm sorry. Actually sorry."
"Still a terrible answer."
"I know. But it's honest. And if you join—you should, Takeshi's right—then we need a real conversation. About boundaries, respect, me not being an asshole. I can try to do better."
"If I join, you write me that real apology. And mean it."
"Deal."
She closed the door.
In the hallway, Akira said dryly: "That went well."
"She'll come," Takeshi said. "Give her tonight to process. She'll want answers by tomorrow."
They emerged onto the street. Kaito's phone buzzed—dinner in 30 minutes.
"Tomorrow then," Takeshi said. "Be ready for questions."
Akira phased and vanished. Kaito stood alone.
He thought about Ayumi's question. Why?
Because he was broken. Because creating chaos distracted from his internal mess. Because control over external chaos meant his internal wreck didn't matter.
But those weren't answers he could give someone he'd just met.
His phone buzzed again—photo of tonkatsu. His stomach growled.
He started home, mind spinning. What trials? Who caused this? Why teams of four?
The mist tried to manifest. He shoved it down.
Three days since his awakening. Three days of training. Three days of everything shifting.
And now a fourth member. Maybe.
If she could forgive him for being exactly who he was.
Big if.
He saw Hana on the steps. "You've been different lately."
"Have I?"
"You're meeting people. I can tell."
"When did you become a detective?"
"I've always been observant. Are they good people?"
He thought about Takeshi, Akira, Ayumi.
"Yeah. I think they might be."
"Good. You need good people. Mom made tonkatsu. Try not to ruin her good mood."
She slipped inside.
Kaito stood alone as Tokyo's lights came on.
Somewhere, Ayumi was processing her transformation.
Somewhere, whatever caused Shibuya was planning bigger things.
And Kaito, who'd spent nine years running from anything real, was part of something he couldn't escape.
Tomorrow. Answers tomorrow.
Tonight, he'd pretend normal and practice an honest apology.
That would be harder than any prank he'd ever planned.
Author's closing note: Three faces appeared first in Ayumi's transformation. Did you catch which ones? Also—watch what Kaito's substance tried to do when she manifested. It responded defensively, but to protect whom? The answer matters more than you know.