Market Holiday
7:30 a.m. The System Control Room, Tōto Commerce Academy.
“Full shutdown in seventy-two hours.”
Vice President Kamiya’s voice held its customary calm, but deep fatigue was etched across his face. Before him ranged the large monitors displaying the system-overhaul schedule.
【Emotion Analyzer Large-Scale Update】
Shutdown Period：72 hours (3 days) Purpose：Full migration to diversity-compatible algorithm Scope：LVT trading, rank evaluation, love correlation analysis — all functions Scheduled Restoration：Day 4, 8:00 a.m. Risk Assessment：HIGH (no precedent)
“In other words,” President Hashimoto confirmed, “for three days, the ‘market’ will simply not exist?”
“That is correct. Students will be completely released from numerically assessed evaluation,” Vice President Kamiya worked the keyboard. “On Kurosaki-sensei’s proposal, this period has been designated a ‘Love Market Holiday,’ and will be used as an intensive program at the Izu training facility.”
President Hashimoto’s brow raised slightly. “Izu? Why there?”
“To observe the students’ ‘natural relationships’ in an environment free of system influence,” Vice President Kamiya continued explaining. “Ocean, mountains, hot springs — we wish to confirm how ‘pure emotion, unquantified,’ functions.”
At that moment there was a knock at the control room door.
“Excuse me.”
In came Kurosaki-sensei. But his expression held not its usual authority — only a faint, unfamiliar unease.
“Is the preparation for the system shutdown complete?” Kurosaki-sensei asked.
“Yes. However,” Vice President Kamiya showed him the materials. “There is one concern.”
On screen was a special warning message.
【Singularity Monitoring Alert】
Shironami Riko：behavioral patterns during system shutdown unpredictable Kurose Tenga：low dependence on quantification, impact expected to be minor Tsukishima Sō：transferred yesterday, insufficient evaluation data
Warning：possibility of unforeseen events due to interaction between multiple singularities
Kurosaki-sensei’s expression grew stern.
“Sō’s transfer may not be coincidental.”
“Sensei?” President Hashimoto was puzzled.
“He has shown a strong interest in ‘incalculable love,’” Kurosaki-sensei looked out of the window. “His contact with Riko-kun may produce more impact than anticipated.”
At that moment, the school announcement rang out.
“Attention, all students. For the next three days, a ‘Love Market Holiday’ will be in effect due to large-scale maintenance of the Emotion Analyzer. All students are to transfer to the Izu Training Center by 1:00 p.m. today.”
＊
1:15 p.m. Main Lobby, Izu Training Center.
“Woah, amazing! You can see the ocean!” “There’s a hot spring, too, apparently!” “Three days without thinking about numbers…”
The voices of the arriving students were full of liberation. Students who in the normal course of things were always checking LVT fluctuations on their smartphones were, for the first time, looking around them without caring about their devices.
The training center was a modern facility built on a hill overlooking Sagami Bay. A residential block, a training block, and the highlight: a natural hot spring facility — the ideal environment for experiencing “a world without quantification.”
“Tenga-san!”
Mizuno Haruka came rushing over with excitement. In casual clothes rather than her usual Rank E uniform, she looked more alive than ever.
“Isn’t this amazing? Everyone together, with no ranks or anything!”
Tenga was calmly observing the change in Haruka. He had not expected that liberation from the system would brighten her expression to this degree.
“Certainly an interesting experiment,” Tenga answered. “How people’s behavior will change over three days…”
“‘Experiment,’” Haruka said with a wry smile. “You’re the same as ever, Tenga-san.”
At that moment a commotion started in one corner of the lobby.
Around Saionji Reika the usual cluster of followers had gathered. But the atmosphere was clearly different from before.
“Reika-sama, let me carry your luggage.” “Are you tired?” “If there’s anything you need, anything at all…”
But Reika’s own reaction was cold.
“That will be fine,” Reika’s voice was exhausted. “I’m perfectly all right on my own.”
The followers were confused. Reika, who in the normal course of things had accepted being treated as their “queen” without question, was now plainly weary of it.
When the system stops, her ‘authority’ ceases to function as well, Tenga analyzed. Interesting…
At that moment, a new figure appeared at the lobby entrance.
Tsukishima Sō.
He was alone, carrying his own luggage, quietly surveying the facility. Many students glanced his way at his striking appearance, but Sō himself showed no interest in others whatsoever.
Sō’s blue eyes quickly scanned each corner of the lobby. It was as though he were instantaneously grasping the structure of the facility, the positions of the students — even the emergency exits.
And then Sō’s gaze fixed on one particular person.
Shironami Riko.
She was sitting by a large window, gazing at the evening view over Sagami Bay. Around her, other students were naturally gathering — seemingly drawn simply to Riko’s tranquil presence, regardless of rank.
Sō moved slowly toward Riko. Tenga observed that movement sharply.
What is this transfer student’s real identity? Tenga thought. What is his intention in approaching Riko…
“Riko-san,” Sō addressed her gracefully.
Riko turned. In that instant, something strange happened. For the first time, something like bewilderment appeared on Riko’s face.
“Tsukishima-san,” Riko answered politely. “Hello.”
“What a beautiful view,” Sō looked out the window. But his gaze was on Riko’s profile, not the scenery. “By the way, what do you think about the system shutdown?”
Riko tilted her head. “The system shutdown?”
“For three days, LVT, ranks, all quantification will stop,” Sō’s voice was gentle but his words carried the resonance of sounding someone out. “For a ‘singular existence’ like you, is that liberation? Or…”
“Singular?” A trace of unease appeared in Riko’s brown eyes. “I’m an ordinary student.”
A faint smile appeared at Sō’s mouth.
“‘Ordinary,’” Sō repeated. “An interesting expression.”
From a distance, Tenga was observing that exchange. Sō’s questions clearly had intent. As if he were ‘testing’ Riko’s reactions…
That transfer student is looking at Riko as a ‘research subject,’ Tenga was certain. In that case, I…
Just as Tenga was moving toward Riko and Sō, a loud noise suddenly rang out.
“Kyaa!”
He turned. Saionji Reika had fallen over in the center of the lobby. One of her followers, hurrying to carry her luggage, had bumped into her.
“Reika-sama! I’m terribly sorry!” Tadokoro Shinichirō hurriedly apologized.
But Reika’s reaction was unexpected.
“I’m fine,” Reika tried to get herself up. “I can manage on my own.”
“But, Reika-sama…”
“Please stop with the ‘-sama,’” Reika’s voice grew firm. “There are no ranks and no system here, are there? Then I am just ‘Reika.’”
The followers were confused. “Service to Reika-sama” — part of their own identity — had been denied.
At that moment, Riko rose.
“Saionji-san,” Riko approached Reika. “Are you all right?”
Reika looked at Riko. In those eyes complex emotions swirled.
“Thank you,” Reika’s voice had completely lost its usual arrogance. “Riko-san.”
“Are you injured?” Riko asked with concern.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Reika got to her feet. “Only…”
Reika looked around. Her followers stood there with puzzled expressions.
“I may have been wrong until now,” Reika’s voice was quiet but full of conviction. “I thought it natural to see people by their ‘rank.’”
Riko smiled gently.
“But now you’ve realized it isn’t, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Reika nodded. “When I’m talking with you, Riko-san, I feel as though I’m being seen as a ‘human being.’”
Sō’s expression shifted slightly at the sound of that exchange. A development different from the reaction patterns he had calculated — he was showing bewilderment for the first time.
Riko’s influence is greater than anticipated, Sō analyzed. Even Reika’s established persona is changing…
＊
1:30 p.m. The Deck by the Sea, Training Center.
“Wooo! The ocean!” Students, changing into swimwear one after another, headed toward the beach. The air was thick with a mood of wanting to enjoy three days of “liberation.”
Tenga sat alone at the edge of the deck, observing the scene. His classmates, whom he had always grasped as numerically expressed data, now appeared before him as flesh-and-blood people.
“Tenga-san, won’t you come into the sea with us?”
He turned. Haruka stood there in a white swimsuit. It suited her healthy figure well.
“I’d rather observe,” Tenga answered. “‘Natural state’ human relationships like these are fascinating research material.”
“There you go again,” Haruka said with a wry smile, and sat down. “Try thinking of it as something ‘fun’ instead of as ‘research material,’ just once?”
Tenga looked at Haruka.
“Fun?”
“Yeah — fun,” Haruka said. “Something you just think ‘that’s great’ about, without calculation or strategy.”
Tenga was thinking about Haruka’s words. The concept of ‘fun’ was one he had sealed away for a long time. He had believed emotional judgment was inefficient…
At that moment a cheer went up from the beach.
Looking over, Riko in a swimsuit was about to enter the sea. A pale pink bikini brought out her natural beauty.
And around that Riko, as if drawn by a magnet, many students were gathering. Males and females, regardless of rank.
“Amazing…” Haruka murmured, admiringly. “Riko-san really is loved by everyone, isn’t she.”
Tenga was watching Riko. Even in a swimsuit, an air of purity and grace emanated from her. And her smile was not a calculated beauty — it was filled with pure, heartfelt joy from the bottom of her heart.
Beautiful, Tenga thought. But it isn’t her appearance. Her very existence…
At that moment Riko noticed Tenga’s gaze and waved.
“Tenga-san! The water feels amazing!”
At Riko’s voice the other students turned too.
“Come on in, Tenga!” “Let’s swim together!” “The water’s so clear!”
The Rank E students were calling out to Tenga with warmth and familiarity. It was a sight unimaginable until the day before.
“Why not go?” Haruka suggested. “Experiencing the non-quantified world is part of research too, isn’t it?”
Tenga stood up. And for the first time made a decision on the grounds of “because it looks like fun.”
＊
1:45 p.m. In the Sea.
“Wow, Tenga-san, you’ve actually got muscles!” “You can’t tell with your uniform on.” “But your skin is so white — you’ve never been in the sun, have you?”
Tenga was in the water in his swimwear. He was unsettled by the students’ frank reactions.
“Tenga-san,” Riko came closer. “Can you swim?”
“After a fashion,” Tenga answered. “I’ve acquired an efficient swimming method.”
Riko laughed. “An efficient swimming method… let’s just swim for fun.”
Riko began to float on her back. Her movement was by no means skilled, but it came across that she was enjoying her unity with the water.
Tenga started swimming too. His form was certainly efficient, fast, and economical. But…
“Tenga-san,” Riko called out. “Try swimming more slowly.”
“Slowly? That’s inefficient.”
“Not for efficiency,” Riko smiled. “To enjoy the feel of the water.”
Tenga followed Riko’s words and swam slowly. And then sensations he had never noticed before came back to him.
The temperature of the water, the motion of the waves, the warmth of the sun, the smell of salt — all of it was pure sensory experience, entirely unrelated to ‘efficiency.’
Is this what ‘fun’ is? Tenga thought. Nothing to do with calculation or strategy — just…
At that moment someone bumped into him underwater.
“Ah, I’m sorry.”
He looked up. There was Saionji Reika. A white swimsuit showed off her perfect figure, but her expression held none of its usual arrogance — only something with a human shyness in it.
“Reika.”
“Tenga-kun,” Reika answered in the same way. “Without the system, it’s a strange feeling.”
“What kind of feeling?”
“Like it’s all right to just be my natural self,” Reika’s voice was peaceful. “Until now I’ve always been performing the role of ‘Saionji Reika.’ But here…”
Reika dipped her hand in the seawater.
“I can just be ‘Reika.’”
Tenga was watching Reika. This may be her real face. Reika as a flesh-and-blood person, not shielded by power or status.
“You,” Tenga said, “are more attractive like this.”
Reika’s cheek flushed, just slightly.
“Thank you,” Reika smiled. “You, too, are more human and attractive when you’re not always calculating.”
That exchange was being observed from a little distance away by Sō. He was not in his swimwear — he was sitting under a beach umbrella, reading a book.
An unexpected development, Sō analyzed. The system shutdown has stripped everyone’s ‘masks’ away. The change in Reika in particular…
Sō’s gaze turned to Riko. She was still surrounded by many students, spending her time enjoyably. But Sō could not understand her ‘naturalness.’
Why doesn’t she calculate? Sō thought. Why doesn’t she form a strategy? Why, by doing nothing more than ‘existing,’ can she wield this degree of influence?
When Sō closed his book and rose to his feet, Riko noticed him.
“Tsukishima-san!” Riko waved. “Won’t you come into the sea too?”
Sō hesitated. His plan had been to devote himself entirely to observation.
“I…”
“It’s wonderful,” Riko smiled. “Forget calculation and theory and just play in the water.”
Forget calculation? Sō’s thought stopped for a moment. That’s impossible. I am always analyzing, evaluating, finding the optimal solution…
But looking at Riko’s smile, that ‘impossible’ began to waver.
＊
7:00 p.m. The Large Public Bath, Training Center.
“Ahh, bliss!” “Hot springs are still the best.” “I didn’t think about numbers once all day.”
In the men’s large bath, the students were making the most of the liberating feeling from the system shutdown. Students who in normal times were always fretting over LVT fluctuations were simply enjoying the hot spring.
Tenga sat alone at the edge of the outdoor bath. The setting sun over Sagami Bay dyed the water’s surface gold.
Something changed in me today, Tenga thought. When I’m talking to Riko, all my theories lose their meaning. But it’s not unpleasant. Rather…
“Tenga-kun.”
He turned. Tsukishima Sō had gotten into the bath. His beautiful physique was androgynous — a perfection like ancient Greek sculpture.
“Quite a welcome for your first day of transferring — a school retreat,” Tenga said.
“Luck… you say,” Sō sat beside Tenga. “I don’t believe in luck. Everything is necessity.”
Tenga looked at Sō.
“Meaning your transfer was not coincidental?”
Sō’s blue eyes shone mysteriously in the evening light.
“Kurose Tenga,” Sō called Tenga’s name. “I have an interest in you.”
“In me?”
“Logical thinking with emotion completely removed — in theory, the ideal approach,” Sō’s voice was gentle but his words held sharp analysis. “However, watching you today…”
Sō paused.
“Your attitude toward ‘emotion’ is changing.”
Tenga’s expression hardened.
“What do you mean?”
“Through your interaction with Shironami Riko-san, ‘impurities’ are beginning to enter your ‘pure logic,’” Sō’s analysis was cool and accurate. “Is that ‘evolution’? Or ‘degradation’?”
Tenga did not answer Sō’s question. But that silence was itself the answer.
“I,” Sō continued, “cannot understand Riko-san’s ‘singularity.’ Why can she reach optimal solutions without calculation? Why can she produce maximum effect without strategy?”
A for-the-first-time human bewilderment lived in Sō’s eyes.
“Can you solve that mystery?”
Tenga looked at Sō.
“Are you looking at Riko as a ‘research subject’?”
“At first, yes,” Sō admitted. “But…”
Sō’s voice trembled, faintly.
“Today, after speaking with her for just a short while, my ‘calculation system’ experienced an anomaly.”
Tenga’s brow moved slightly.
“Anomaly?”
“Quantification of emotion became impossible,” Sō’s confession was full of a surprise like that of a machine discovering feeling. “For seventeen years I have quantified everything. But before Riko-san…”
Sō dipped his hand in the water.
“I become ‘incalculable.’”
Tenga understood Sō’s words. It was the same phenomenon Tenga himself had been experiencing.
“You too,” Tenga said quietly. “Have had your ‘heart read’ by Riko.”
Sō looked at Tenga.
“‘Heart read’?”
“Riko said to me: ‘You too, I’m sure, want to love someone not with efficiency but with your heart.’” Frailty entered Tenga’s voice for the first time. “In that moment, I could not offer a single counterargument.”
Sō’s expression changed.
“Is that a ‘diagnosis’? Or ‘treatment’?”
“I don’t know,” Tenga answered. “Only — when I’m talking to Riko, a ‘contradiction’ I had carried for many years seems to be resolving itself.”
Tenga looked at the sunset.
“What do you want to research Riko for?”
Sō was silent for a long time. At last he answered in a small voice.
“My parents… died because of ‘incalculable love.’”
Tenga drew a sharp breath.
“They loved each other too much, and destroyed each other,” Sō’s voice was devoid of emotion, but a deep pain was hidden beneath it. “So I want to make love ‘controllable.’”
“Control?”
“If I can analyze Riko-san’s ability and reproduce it artificially,” Sō’s blue eyes gleamed coldly, “no one will ever need to suffer for love again.”
Tenga watched Sō. That motivation had the same root as the reason Tenga had tried to eliminate emotion.
“You are wrong,” Tenga’s voice was quiet but full of conviction.
“Wrong?”
“Trying to control love is itself the error,” Tenga went on. “What Riko taught me is not ‘how to control.’ It is the ‘courage to accept.’”
Sō’s expression was puzzled.
“Today, I acted ‘without calculation’ for the first time,” Tenga said, climbing out of the water. “The result was… not bad.”
Tenga looked down at Sō.
“Why don’t you try it too? Not ‘control’ — ‘experience.’”
＊
9:30 p.m. The Women’s Large Public Bath, Training Center.
“Riko-chan, today was so much fun!” “Somehow, being with Riko-chan puts you at ease.” “Let’s hang out together tomorrow too!”
In the women’s large bath as well, students were gathering naturally around Riko. Drawn simply to Riko’s warm presence, regardless of differences in rank.
“Thank you, everyone,” Riko smiled. “I had so much fun too.”
At that moment, from a little way off, Saionji Reika was watching Riko with a complex expression.
Riko noticed Reika.
“Saionji-san,” Riko came closer. “Is something the matter?”
Reika hesitated. She had never been spoken to in this kind of ‘equal relationship’ before.
“I…” Reika’s voice shrank. “I envy you, being loved by everyone.”
Riko smiled gently.
“I’m not perfect either, you know,” Riko said, settling into the bath. “I just like finding good things about people.”
“Good things?”
“Yes,” Riko nodded. “There are plenty of good things about you too, Saionji-san.”
Reika was surprised. “About me?”
“Today, when you fell over, you said ‘I can manage on my own,’ didn’t you?” Riko’s brown eyes shone warmly. “I thought that was wonderful. I felt I’d seen your real strength.”
Tears rose in Reika’s eyes.
“Real strength…”
“And also,” Riko continued, “when you were talking with Tenga-kun just now, Saionji-san looked so natural and beautiful.”
Reika’s cheek reddened. “You were watching?”
“Yes,” Riko said with an embarrassed smile. “Somehow, you both seemed more human than usual… you suited each other.”
“Suited each other?” Reika was flustered. “Tenga-kun and I?”
“The way you both faced each other honestly, without calculation or strategy, was lovely,” Riko’s words were pure — not a trace of scheming. “I’m sure you’ll be able to understand each other’s real good qualities.”
Reika turned Riko’s words over in her mind. It was true — today’s Tenga had looked different from usual. Not a cool analyst but a young man, one among others.
“Riko-san,” Reika asked, hesitantly. “Are you… about Tenga-kun…”
Riko tilted her head. “Tenga-san?”
“…do you like him?”
Riko thought for a little while before answering.
“I like him,” Riko’s answer was straightforward. “But it may not be romantic feeling.”
“Different?”
“Tenga-san deserves to be loved by many people,” Riko’s voice was full of conviction. “But right now, he can’t believe that about himself. So first of all, I want him to realize that he ‘has the worth to be loved.’”
Riko looked at Reika.
“It’s the same with you, Saionji-san. Deep down you’re such a kind, strong, beautiful person, yet you think ‘unless I’m perfect, I won’t be loved.’”
Reika drew a sharp breath. Riko’s insight was too accurate to leave room for argument.
“We,” Riko went on, “are allowed to believe in ourselves more. And to believe in other people more.”
At that moment the lights in the large bath flickered once.
“Huh? Power cut?” “Oh, it went right back.”
But Riko and Reika had not noticed. They had not noticed that at the same instant as the lights flickered, something faint had flowed between the two of them. It was neither electricity nor magnetism — something more fundamental: a ‘connection.’
＊
11:00 p.m. The Stargazing Deck, Training Center.
The night sky was filled with a full canopy of stars. Free of light pollution, the Izu sky was showing a beauty impossible to see in the city.
Tenga stood alone at the edge of the deck, looking up at the stars. He was trying to sort through the events of the day, but was unable to analyze them in his usual logical way.
Riko’s influence is greater than expected, Tenga thought. Being with her makes every calculation seem meaningless. Is that dangerous, or is it…
“Tenga-san.”
He turned. Riko was approaching quietly. In her yukata she seemed to glow faintly even in the darkness of night.
“Riko,” Tenga called her name. “Can’t you sleep?”
“Yes, a little,” Riko leaned against the deck railing. “So many things happened today, I can’t organize my head.”
Tenga stood beside Riko.
“Me too,” Tenga admitted. “Today’s me was not my usual me.”
“How so?”
“I acted without calculating,” Tenga’s voice held a faint wonder. “When I swam in the sea, when I soaked in the hot spring, when I talked with you and Reika… I acted on theory-less grounds, just ‘because I wanted to.’”
Riko smiled.
“Isn’t that the real Tenga-san?”
“My real self?”
“The real Tenga-san, not hidden behind calculation and strategy,” Riko’s brown eyes shone in the starlight. “He was very attractive.”
Tenga’s heart beat faster than usual. It was a measurable physiological response — but right now he was not trying to analyze it.
“Riko,” Tenga said quietly. “Are you trying to change me?”
“Change?” Riko shook her head. “No. I just want you not to hide the good things you naturally have, Tenga-san.”
Riko looked at Tenga.
“You have kindness, compassion, a care for people — all of that. Your theory and strategy are certainly excellent. But they’re not the whole of you.”
“Why can you say that?”
“Because,” Riko’s voice grew warm, “when you told me about your father, your expression was full of deep love. I felt a deep love that can’t be explained by theory.”
Tenga’s expression distorted, faintly. His father’s story was his most painful memory.
“My father was destroyed by being swept away by emotion,” Tenga’s voice hardened. “So I, in order not to repeat the same mistake…”
“But,” Riko interrupted. “Your father wasn’t destroyed because he was a person of deep feeling, was he?”
Tenga looked at Riko.
“He just didn’t know ‘how to love,’ I think,” Riko went on. “Real love doesn’t destroy the other person. It makes them happy.”
Riko looked up at the stars.
“Tenga-san is far wiser than your father. So surely you can find the right way to love.”
Tenga was chewing on Riko’s words. His father’s love was certainly deep, but perhaps it was rooted in ‘possession’ or ‘sacrifice.’
“What you call the ‘right way to love’?”
“Putting the other person’s happiness first,” Riko’s answer was unhesitating. “Valuing the other person’s feelings more than your own.”
“Isn’t that the same as rational judgment?”
Riko smiled.
“It may be similar. But it’s fundamentally different.”
“How different?”
“Rational judgment seeks ‘efficiency.’ But love seeks ‘happiness,’” Riko’s explanation was concise but deep. “Efficiency and happiness don’t always agree.”
Tenga was moved by Riko’s theory. Her logic was simple, but a deep truth was hidden in that simplicity.
At that moment, footsteps approached the deck.
Tsukishima Sō appeared. He too was in a yukata, but his way of wearing it was perfect — as if stepped out of a fashion magazine.
“Are you both awake?” Sō addressed them gently.
“Tsukishima-san,” Riko turned. “Yes, a little too excited.”
Sō came to stand between the two of them. In that instant the air on the deck shifted subtly.
“What a beautiful night sky,” Sō looked up. But his gaze was on Riko’s profile, not the sky. “By the way, Riko-san—”
Sō’s blue eyes fixed on Riko.
“Something strange happened when I talked with you today.”
“Something strange?”
“My emotional analysis system stopped functioning,” Sō’s confession was direct. “For seventeen years I have quantified every human relationship. But before you…”
Sō’s voice trembled, faintly.
“I become ‘incalculable.’”
Riko tilted her head, puzzled. “Did I do something strange?”
“No,” Sō shook his head. “You haven’t done anything special. You’re merely ‘existing.’ But that existence…”
Sō paused.
“Is shaking my entire worldview to its foundations.”
Tenga was listening carefully to Sō’s words. Sō, too, was experiencing ‘change’ through Riko.
“Tsukishima-san,” Riko said gently. “Changing isn’t a bad thing.”
“Isn’t… bad?”
“Yes,” Riko nodded. “We are born in order to grow. Change is proof of growth.”
Riko looked at Sō.
“I think the Tsukishima-san of before was wonderful too. But the new Tsukishima-san will surely be wonderful too.”
For the first time Sō’s expression showed a human-like bewilderment.
“But,” Sō murmured, “by changing, I may stop being ‘me.’”
“That’s wrong,” Tenga spoke. “Your ‘core’ doesn’t change. What changes is only the surface.”
Sō looked at Tenga.
“Core?”
“Your essence — why you want to control emotion, that fundamental motivation — doesn’t change,” Tenga’s analysis was accurate. “What changes is only the ‘method.’”
Tenga looked at Riko.
“Riko taught me not to ‘eliminate emotion’ but to ‘use emotion correctly.’”
Sō drew a sharp breath.
“In other words,” Tenga went on, “rather than ‘controlling emotion,’ learn a method to ‘coexist with emotion.’”
Riko nodded happily.
“That’s it! There’s no need to hide your kindness and compassion, Tsukishima-san.”
“Kindness?” Sō was puzzled. “Me?”
“Yes,” Riko answered with conviction. “Earlier, when I was confused about the system, Tsukishima-san looked very worried.”
Sō’s cheek flushed, just slightly.
“That was… observation for data collection.”
“Really?” Riko smiled. “But the look in your eyes at that moment wasn’t the eyes of someone analyzing. It was the eyes of someone worrying.”
Sō was at a loss for words. Riko’s insight was too accurate to deny.
＊
12:30 a.m. The Lobby, Training Center.
“Looks like sleep isn’t coming tonight.”
The three had returned from the stargazing deck to the lobby. Deep into the night as it was, several students were still awake, relaxing on the sofas.
“Riko-chan!” Haruka waved. “I can’t sleep either.”
“Haruka-san,” Riko came closer. “Everyone’s up?”
Looking around, about ten students had gathered in the lobby. Students of different ranks who would never normally be together were naturally mingling.
“Somehow, today was a special day,” one student said. “I didn’t want it to just end.”
“I know,” another nodded. “When the system comes back, maybe we won’t be able to talk like this anymore.”
Tenga observed the students. With the system stopped, something had certainly changed. Within unquantified relationships, the students were discovering new selves.
“Since we’re here,” Riko suggested, “why don’t we play a game together?”
“A game?”
“A game to bring hearts closer,” Riko’s proposal drew interest from the students. “We share our ‘real feelings’ with each other.”
Riko sat in the middle of the sofa.
“The rules are simple. One by one, we each say ‘the most memorable thing that happened today’ and ‘a feeling you want to convey to someone.’”
The students formed a circle and sat down. Tenga and Sō naturally joined the circle too.
“I’ll start,” Riko smiled. “The most memorable thing today was being able to see everyone’s ‘real smiles.’”
Riko looked around the circle.
“You all always seem a little tense because of ranks and numbers — but today you all seemed to be having real fun from the heart. That made me so happy.”
Warm expressions spread across the students’ faces.
“And,” Riko continued, “what I want to say to everyone is ‘thank you.’ For accepting me naturally, for spending happy time together — truly, thank you.”
Applause arose. Not social obligation — applause of genuine gratitude from the heart.
“Then I’ll go next,” said a boy who had been sitting beside Haruka, raising his hand. “The most memorable thing today was… seeing Tenga-san swimming happily in the sea.”
Tenga was surprised.
“You know, normally Tenga-san is kind of unapproachable,” the boy went on. “But today he looked like a regular high schooler… easy to talk to.”
The boy looked at Tenga.
“What I want to say to Tenga-san is, ‘it’s okay to show more of yourself.’ Even without theory and strategy, the real Tenga-san seems like a really great guy.”
Tenga was at a loss for words. Without realizing it, there had been an impression he was making on those around him.
The game continued. One by one, everyone spoke their true feelings — things they couldn’t normally say.
“When Reika-san said ‘drop the -sama’ today, I felt so relieved.” “Sō-kun seemed too cool at first to talk to, but he’s surprisingly kind.” “I realized that beyond rank, we’re all just high schoolers.”
At last it was Tenga’s turn.
Tenga thought for a moment, then opened his mouth.
“The most memorable thing today was… Riko’s words.”
Tenga looked at Riko.
“When she said ‘let’s just swim for fun,’ I realized I had forgotten what ‘fun’ meant.”
Tenga’s voice grew gentle.
“For a long time I had only thought about efficiency and rationality. But today… when I acted without calculation, the world looked different.”
Tenga looked around the circle.
“What I want to say to everyone is,” Tenga continued, “thank you for accepting me not just as a ‘theory-obsessed person’ but as a human being.”
Warm applause arose.
And at last Sō’s turn came.
Sō was silent for a long time. At last he began to speak in a small voice.
“The most memorable thing today was… being told by Riko-san to ‘forget calculation.’”
Uncertainty dwelt in Sō’s blue eyes for the first time.
“For seventeen years, I have calculated everything. I thought all feelings, all relationships, could be resolved by equations.”
Sō looked at Riko.
“But before you… I can’t calculate anything.”
Sō’s voice trembled.
“That is terrifying, and yet at the same time… strangely peaceful.”
Sō took a deep breath.
“What I want to say to everyone,” Sō’s voice took on a human-like warmth, “is that ‘it’s okay not to fear change.’ I myself feel as though I changed greatly tonight. But it wasn’t a bad thing.”
Sō smiled. It was an expression genuinely human — showing itself for the first time.
“Thank you. Being able to spend time with everyone… I’m truly glad.”
Long applause continued.
＊
2:00 a.m.
The game ended, and the students naturally dispersed. But everyone wore a satisfied expression.
“Tonight was a special night,” Riko said to Tenga and Sō.
“Yes,” Tenga nodded. “During the time the system was stopped, perhaps we found what is ‘real.’”
“Real?” Sō asked.
“Unquantified, pure human relationships,” Tenga’s answer was full of conviction. “This may be the true essence of love.”
Riko smiled happily.
“You’ve both changed wonderfully.”
The three quietly headed for their rooms.
＊ ＊ ＊