Kana Ishikawa's POV
The morning after Sanae and Daichi accepted their invitations, Kana Ishikawa stepped onto the school grounds. A crisp breeze carried the scent of damp earth and chalkboard dust. Students still gathered in small clusters, but today their chatter seemed quieter—each moving with the unspoken weight of something new.
She paused beneath the oak by the main entrance, smoothing the strap of her bag. Dawn light revealed subtle tremors of transformation in everyone around her: the purposeful way Sanae arranged her station, the deliberate confidence in Daichi's movements.
In the life sciences lab, Kana noticed Sanae Okabe before the bell even rang. Sanae's posture was straighter than usual, shoulders squared in poised readiness. When the classroom door opened, Sanae didn't simply file in—she took a deliberate moment to arrange her seating, then methodically unpacked her notebooks, placing each at a precise angle.
As the teacher began reviewing yesterday's material, Sanae raised her hand—not to ask a standard factual question, but to propose a novel experimental approach: "If we varied the pH by 0.1 increments, we might see how the transport proteins respond in real time." Her voice was calm, but the suggestion rippled through the room, prompting nods and surprised looks.
Kana caught Sanae's eye across the room—this time, not a fleeting glance but a steady acknowledgment of shared curiosity. In that instant, Kana perceived that Sanae's thinking had been sharpened overnight.
Later, in the physics lab, Kana found Daichi Nomura crouched by the workbench well before the session officially began. He was adjusting the wiring on a demonstration circuit—an early prototype of a variable resistor array. His hands moved with unusual deliberation, testing each joint and whispering to himself about voltage tolerances.
When the instructor arrived, Daichi stood and requested permission to demonstrate his revised setup. Within moments, the circuit hummed steadily, illuminating a bulb at half its normal brightness—exactly the effect he'd predicted. Classmates exchanged impressed murmurs.
Kana watched as Daichi quietly packed away his tools afterward, eyes focused yet distant, as though he'd just glimpsed something profound. It wasn't the novelty that struck her—it was the measured confidence born of clear feedback.
Walking between classes, Kana felt the corridor's usual familiarity warp into something fresh. Lockers clicked open and closed in a rhythm that felt synchronized, as though these idle actions were part of a larger pattern she'd only just begun to sense.
She tapped her pen against her notebook, then glanced toward Yamada and Takeshi at the far end of the hall. They exchanged a brief nod—no spectacle, but enough to suggest a shared understanding. Kana realized they too must have sensed the subtle shift overnight.
Her pulse quickened. We're all evolving, she thought. This—this is just the start.
By the time Kana boarded her afternoon bus home, the sun had dipped to a soft orange. She settled into her seat by the window, sketchbook open on her lap. The world outside—from the curve of the stream to the old post office—melted into a blur of pastel hues.
Without overthinking, she began to draw:
A stylized tree with three established roots (Yamada, Kana, Takeshi) entwined at the base Two fresh shoots emerging overnight (Sanae and Daichi), stretching toward the light
Underneath, she wrote: Subsystem Roots: First Branches.
She paused, closing her eyes, feeling a gentle hum at the back of her mind—her own subsystem responding to conscious reflection.
That night, back in her room, Kana lit a soft desk lamp and opened her journal. Ink the color of deep plum waited ready in her favorite pen. She wrote:
October 4th
Today… they were different.
Sanae proposed a new experiment before anyone else spoke. Her questions felt sharper—like she'd been given permission to think bigger.
Daichi rebuilt a circuit with calm precision, then explained it as if teaching himself. He never sought the spotlight, but it found him anyway.
Yamada and Takeshi… I saw their small nod across the hall. They understand something I'm only beginning to name.
I sketched their roots and branches on the bus. The memory of those lines feels electric.
What if this is where we really begin?
I'm ready to find out.
She hesitated, then underlined the final line twice.
A subtle warmth spread through her temples—the gentle response of her subsystem. She felt her pen's tip quiver with renewed purpose.
[Reflection Task Logged: +0.1 LP]
Kana smiled softly. No grand fanfare, just the quiet confirmation that her intentional reflection mattered.
She closed the journal and turned off the lamp. Tomorrow, the core cohort would gather again—now five strong—each a living ripple in the Matrix.
Kana lay back, eyes tracing the ceiling's soft shadows, already anticipating what discoveries the morning would bring.