Author's Note:Remember what Takeshi said about proving it? Watch how each team member's power reflects who they are. Also—pay attention to what Kaito's substance does when Ayumi panics. Small detail. Big meaning later.
POV: Ayumi Sakamoto
Word Count: ~1,950
"I don't believe you."
"I know," Takeshi said quietly. "Which is why I'll prove it."
He held out his hand, palm up, over the café table. For a second, nothing happened. Then the air above his palm began to shimmer.
It was subtle at first—like heat waves rising from summer pavement, easy to dismiss as a trick of the afternoon light filtering through the café windows. But then it intensified, coalesced into something that made Ayumi's eyes water when she tried to focus on it directly.
A distortion. A ripple in space itself.
The spoon sitting innocently on the table lifted into the air.
Ayumi's breath caught. This was impossible. Had to be strings, magnets, some kind of trick—
The spoon spun twice in midair, lazy and controlled, then launched itself toward the exposed brick wall behind Takeshi's head.
It should have clattered against the brick. Should have fallen to the floor with a metallic ting that would draw the barista's attention.
Instead, it reversed.
Like someone had grabbed reality itself and hit rewind, the spoon flew backward in a perfect arc, air resistance working in the opposite direction, physics bending in ways that made Ayumi's brain scream that this was wrong, impossible, couldn't be happening—
The spoon landed gently on the table.
Exactly where it had started.
Like nothing had happened at all.
Ayumi realized she'd stopped breathing. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard it hurt, and her hands gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles went white.
"That was—" Her voice came out barely a whisper. "How did you—"
"My ability," Takeshi said softly, dismissing the shimmer. The air returned to normal like reality had simply decided to play along with the impossible. "Reversal. Motion, force, energy—if it's directed at me or something I'm protecting, I can send it back to its source. Reverse the trajectory, undo the momentum, turn attacks into defense."
The barista walked past their table, completely oblivious, humming along to whatever indie music was playing through the café's speakers.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Ayumi leaned forward, voice dropping to an urgent whisper that shook with barely contained panic.
"This is impossible. This violates every law of physics I've ever learned. Conservation of momentum, Newton's third law, basic causality—you can't just—matter and energy don't work like that—"
"I know." Takeshi took a sip of his coffee, maddeningly calm while Ayumi's entire worldview was shattering. "Trust me, I had the exact same reaction. Spent three days trying to convince myself I was hallucinating, that I'd had some kind of psychotic break, that there was a rational explanation. But there isn't. Impossible doesn't mean untrue, Ayumi. It just means our understanding of what's possible was incomplete."
Ayumi's mind was racing, trying to find some foothold in logic, some way to make this make sense. "But the barista—she walked right past and didn't even react. How—"
"Normals can't perceive manifestations the same way we can. Their brains filter it out, rationalize it as something mundane. A trick of the light. Their imagination. Anything except the truth." Takeshi's expression was understanding, like he'd had this exact conversation before. "Only other people with fragments—other essentials—can see powers clearly. It's a built-in defense mechanism. Keeps the world from descending into complete chaos."
"Essentials?"
"What we're called. People bonded with essence fragments. Kakusei-sha in Japanese, if you want to be formal about it. But most of us just say essentials."
The word felt heavy in Ayumi's mouth. Essentials. Like they were something fundamental, necessary, important. When really they were just—what? Freaks? Mistakes? People who'd been hit by impossible energy and survived when most others died?
"And the fragment inside me—" Ayumi's voice was barely audible now. "—it's going to manifest eventually? No matter what I do?"
"Yes. Whether you believe in it or not, whether you want it or not. The essence is already part of you. Has been since it bonded with you, probably weeks ago. It's just been dormant, waiting for the right trigger." Takeshi's voice was gentle but firm. "And when it manifests—and it will—you'll need to know what's happening. You'll need people who understand, who can help you control it before it controls you."
"And you're offering to help?" The question came out more accusatory than Ayumi intended, but fear made her voice sharp. "You and two others form a convenient team of four, and I'm supposed to just trust that this isn't some elaborate prank or scam or—"
"I'm offering to keep you alive," Takeshi said bluntly. "First manifestations are dangerous. Lethal, usually. You panic, the essence responds to that panic, and before you understand what's happening you've killed yourself or someone else. That's not a scare tactic. That's statistical reality. Seventy-three percent fatality rate during first manifestation."
The number hit Ayumi like a physical blow. Seventy-three percent. Nearly three out of four people died.
"So why me specifically?" Her hands were shaking now, and she pressed them flat against her thighs under the table where Takeshi couldn't see. "If these fragments are scattered all over Tokyo, there must be dozens of people you could recruit. Why track down my number, why meet with me, why—"
"Because your signature is strong," Takeshi said. "Stable. The kind of energy pattern that suggests your ability, once it manifests, will be versatile and powerful. Adaptable." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "And because we need people we can trust. People who understand what it means to protect something precious, even when protecting it exhausts you. People who know what it's like to hold everything together when falling apart would be so much easier."
Ayumi's breath caught. He was talking about her mother. About the weight she carried every single day, maintaining perfect control because someone had to, because if she didn't then everything would collapse.
How did he know? How could he possibly—
"Your signature," Takeshi said quietly, like he could read her thoughts. "The energy pattern essentials give off—it reflects who we are at our core. Your signature feels like... someone holding broken pieces together with willpower alone. Someone who's been everyone else for so long they've forgotten how to just be themselves."
The words cut deeper than Ayumi wanted to admit.
"And what happens now?" she asked, voice small. "You've proven powers are real. You've told me I'm going to manifest whether I want to or not. What exactly am I supposed to do with that information?"
"For now? Just be aware. Pay attention to your body, your emotions. If you start seeing any kind of glow around your hands, any strange sensations, any moments where reality feels slightly wrong—call me immediately. Don't wait. Don't try to handle it alone." Takeshi pulled out his wallet and left money on the table for both their untouched drinks. "And think about what I said. About the team. About having people who understand when things get dangerous."
"Dangerous how? You keep mentioning trials and organization and someone causing this deliberately, but you haven't actually explained what any of that means."
"I will. Tomorrow, if you meet us again. Full explanation, everything we know about the Shibuya incident and what's coming. But Ayumi—" Takeshi stood, and his expression was more serious than she'd seen yet. "—whether you join our team or not, you're already part of this. The fragment chose you. Whoever orchestrated the Shibuya incident—they'll know about you eventually. You're already a target. The only question is whether you want to face what's coming alone, or with allies."
He slid a business card across the table. Plain white, just his name and number written in neat handwriting.
Ayumi stared at it for a long moment before picking it up and slipping it into her purse.
"I'm not promising anything."
"I know. But thank you for meeting with me. For listening with an open mind even when everything I said sounds insane." Takeshi's smile was kind, genuine. "One more thing—if you start manifesting before we meet again, stay calm. I know that sounds impossible, but panic makes the essence uncontrollable. Just breathe, call me, and I'll be there as fast as I can. Any time, day or night. I mean that."
"Why do you care so much?" The question escaped before Ayumi could stop it. "You don't know me. We've never even talked before today. Why go to all this trouble?"
Takeshi was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice carried weight that suggested old pain, old guilt.
"Because nobody was there for me when I first manifested. I had to figure it out alone, and I almost died three times in the process. So when I feel a new signature appear, someone on the verge of awakening—I go. Every time. Because nobody should have to go through this alone."
He started toward the door, then paused and looked back.
"If this is some elaborate prank Kaito Endo put you up to as revenge for reporting him," Ayumi said, the words coming out harder than intended, "I will make your life miserable in ways you can't even imagine."
Takeshi's expression didn't change. "It's not a prank. Kaito is one of our team members, but he has no idea I was meeting with you today. This is completely separate from whatever happened between you two."
Ayumi's stomach dropped like she'd missed a step on stairs. "Kaito Endo? The guy who humiliated me in front of my entire class with his stupid device is on your team?"
"Yes. And I know that complicates things, but—"
"Complicates?" Ayumi laughed, but it came out bitter, sharp enough to cut. "That doesn't complicate things, Takeshi. That makes this entire conversation pointless. I'm not joining any team that includes him. Not now. Not ever. Find someone else."
She stood to leave, but Takeshi's next words stopped her.
"He has the same power you're about to get."
Ayumi froze, hand on her purse strap.
"Not the exact same ability," Takeshi continued quietly. "But the same core fear driving it. The same need to control everything because chaos feels terrifying. The same exhaustion from maintaining perfect order on the outside while falling apart on the inside." His voice was gentle but honest. "I'm not saying you have to forgive him. I'm not even saying you have to like him. But when your ability manifests and you're terrified and don't understand what's happening to your body—wouldn't you rather have someone nearby who's been through the exact same thing? Who understands that specific fear?"
Ayumi stood there, frozen between the table and the door, mind racing.
The thought of spending time around Kaito Endo made her skin crawl. Made that memory of violation, of being reduced to a punchline, of thirty classmates laughing while she stood there humiliated—
But the thought of going through whatever manifestation was—alone, unprepared, with a seventy-three percent chance of dying—
"I'll think about it," she said without turning around. Her voice came out smaller than she wanted. "That's all I can promise right now."
"That's all I'm asking."
Ayumi left the café and walked home in a daze, Takeshi's business card burning a hole in her purse like physical evidence of something impossible.
The afternoon sun felt surreal. The normal city sounds around her—traffic, conversations, a street musician playing guitar for spare change—felt distant and muffled, like she was experiencing the world through thick glass.
None of this could be real.
Powers didn't exist. Energy fragments didn't bond with people. Physics didn't just break because of some incident in Shibuya two months ago.
Except she'd seen that spoon move.
Seen it reverse mid-flight like causality itself had bent.
And if that was real, then maybe everything else was too.
Ayumi's hands were shaking again.
She forced them to stop, shoved them deep into her jacket pockets, and kept walking. Home. She needed to get home, to her organized bedroom, to her color-coded homework and her carefully maintained routine.
Everything would make sense again once she was back in her controlled environment.
Everything would be fine.
It had to be.
The card in her purse felt heavier than it should.
Ayumi walked faster.
[Chapter 4 continues in Part 2...]
Author's closing note:Takeshi said something about Kaito and Ayumi having "the same core fear." Did you catch what that fear actually is? Also—the spoon reversed perfectly. Think about what that means for Takeshi's character. What does he NEED to reverse? Comments with theories below! 👇
Next update: [Core 2 Releases Today GMT+8:00 at 20:30]
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