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"It's charming that you think anything of mine could be hacked, even by someone talented by Futaba-chan," Ichinose chuckled a bit proudly, leaning her cheek on her hand.

"But I have protocols in mind, yes. And I always use my voice and face as a backdoor key for my AI for emergencies. First and foremost, a shield can defend... but a solid heavy object, with enough applied kinetic force?"

She shrugs!

"Easily enough to handle shadows. Easily enough to break a few legs so the AI and I can run."

"It's not just Futaba-san I am worried about," he points out with his chopsticks- sushi held between them as his mind wanders. He remembers Wolf, not the older one, but the Akechi who controls a Digimon. He didn't seem like he wanted to be in the loop of the matters in the same way as the Hasegawas were, but as long as the AI and Kuon can protect themselves, that's all that matters. He has Azathoth himself whom he can count on, now that he can control it.

The cognitions next to them flicker their gaze back at them, looking between each other confusedly as both Takuto and Kuon only kept talking.

"Sorry," he waves the sushi, still not eating it, while his mind wanders. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's a good thing that you are confident in your capabilities; it's enough for me to know that my trust and collaboration with you are in good hands."

"Who is it, then? If there's someone else proficient with codding, I want to meet them anyway," Kuon pried a bit. "Just to talk shop - it's rare I get to chat about that sort of thing with anyone on my skill level. Getting to talk to Futaba-chan was the most refreshing part of working with the Thieves, and all."

Maruki's eyes widen in recognition. "Oh right-! You must have talked to Futaba-san!" It hadn't even clicked for him until now, more fixated on Akira-kun when he figured that the phantom thieves were Kuon's benefactors.

For a moment he doesn't even remember the previous question as he is deep in thought. "She is quite bright and sharp, isn't she? Honestly, you two are very awfully similar so I am not surprised that you two got along well."

He proceeds to chew away at the sushi, nostalgia flashing over his eyes. "I remember Futaba-san speaking to her cat the time when I came to Leblanc. I genuinely thought it was neat but really we just ended up striking conversation when she realised that I had a book on cognitive pscience." He covered his mouth for a moment, finishing on the last gulps. "Her father...Well, I believe he was her guardian at least, and got quite defensive. Turns out her mother also agreed that it was a lovely division of science, which can help many people."

He looks away. "From what I have heard from here and otherwise, tragedy had followed her mother. In some worlds, I was involved too...Still, I am sure Futaba-san will be able to make her mom proud someday. If she hasn't already, considering how you speak of her."

Edited 2025-06-21 20:38 (UTC)

"Mm. I remember reading about that when I was poking through source documents fed to EMMA about cognitive psience. I'd thought to contact some of the authors of those papers and get their thoughts on what might be going on, but found out that way," Ichinose hummed thoughtfully.

She let the thought settle, taking a slow sip of sake.

"...So that was Futaba-chan's mother. ...I'm glad she has another caretaker, at least. One that bothers to fuss over her."

Maruki took notice of her sobering up as he grabs his own glass, letting the alcohol swirl a little with a gentle lilt of his wrist.

"It's a shame I never got to speak with her myself," he sighs as he looks ahead at Kuon. Eyebrows knitted together. Smile weakening. "Actually...I hate to bring your spirit down but I have been wanting to ask you something for a while."

"Bring my spirit down...?" Kuon asked, curious what he meant. She couldn't be sad, not truly. She didn't have the heart for it.

"May as well ask - go ahead."

He smiled sympathetically at her question.

"...it's about your relatives, I mean," he sighs. "Others you know who have given you the label- heartless. I have been thinking about what it means in your context and how you seek its true meaning."

"Truth be told, I find that label quite absurd," he leans forward as he takes a proper sip of his sake. "It's not something you can just say to someone and get away with it."

Lowering his glass, his gaze followed its rim. "Which makes me wonder when it all really began. Would you be comfortable sharing that with me?"

Edited 2025-06-21 21:32 (UTC)

"Oh, that's simple enough," Kuon replied softly, watching the sake swirl in her cup as she gently tipped it.

"When my parents passed, I didn't grieve. No crying, no tantrums, no mourning or asking for them back," she explained. "My grandparents, my aunts and uncles, cousins, all of them... they kept asking me about it, asking who I wanted to live with, all of those things. Apparently I was very unsettling and uncanny, even back then - I mostly remember sort of shrugging because I wasn't sure of how to navigate anything. By the time the funeral rolled around, I still didn't feel anything or have anything to say... that's about when I started hearing them call me a heartless doll for the first time."

Maruki listened intently. Making note of her words in his mental journal, one that was only slightly blurry with the alcohol in his system.

"I-what?!" he blinks when she finishes her explanation. "..why would they-? Sorry," he cuts himself off, waving his hand. "I am really sorry to hear that, Kuon. Genuinely, that's- I suppose I can see where they are coming from, given the priority tatemae takes over in any social event."

"How did you feel when you heard those words for the first time?"

"Certainly not as strongly as you just now," Kuon replied, smiling in some amusement.

There was a pleasant warmth in her chest...

Must be from the nice quality sake.

"I can't remember exactly what I was thinking. I was thinking about a lot of things around then, like who I would be living with after that, what school I'd be transferred to, whether I would be allowed to keep my things..."

She paused to take another sip of her drink so she could more easily fidget with the cup without spilling.

"I ended up getting taken in by my mother's cousin and her husband. They saw that I never cried over my parents, after all of that. They'd be frustrated with me for asking to leave the room. Took me to a few different therapists, trying to see what was going on with me."

"Oh, er-" he catches himself, shrinking as he shakes his head. He knows how mean relatives and family can get, especially considering where he comes from. "I just don't..."

He doesn't really finish his sentence because what can he say? Understand? He understands why the world is known to push down a grieving individual rather than try to support them. Don't see it? She remembers the situation so well, she remembers and lists the things she hasn't done to please her relatives.

He was glad that she had only one set of guardians who looked after her anyway. Even tried to get her help, though he's not sure if it was more for her sake or to prove themselves right.

"Leave your room?" He asks, catching that little hint while she fidgeted with her cup. He had the rhythm, and he could tell she might be getting nervous. "Why did they tell you to leave it?"

"They wanted me to 'come out of my cave', and would say 'stop staring at your computer', things like that. I'd been learning how to code even back then, since it was something my father indulged me in - he got tired of me taking apart things like the TV remote or whatnot and got me a computer to do puzzles and other games, and I ended up getting sucked into coding pretty early on."

Nervous? No, not really. It might be a shame if he ended up getting unsettled by her, knowing the truth, though. She was having fun.

"They'd fight so hard to get me to spend time outside of my room out with them, but then I'd hear them talk behind closed doors about how much my lack of expression scared them."

Takuto's hand lingered nearby, curled up close to his glass of sake, but free.

"Hence, you chose to stay in your room." The free hand relaxed, tapping against the table before his pinky brushed against Kuon's hand. Brown eyes remained focused on the table, trying to contain his own reaction. "Your father sounds like a wonderful man, though, allowing your interests to grow in a steady environment."

"Do you like...connect with him perhaps? When you code? When you solve a problem?" He asks with a bright smile on his face. "Or well, even if you didn't- there must be a sense of comfort, right? Away from the prying eyes and living in the comfort of what your parents left behind?"

Kuon's gaze lowered to the touch to her hand, not shirking away from it, just... curious. Did his heart hurt for her, even though hers never did?

And did she feel as though the computer connected her to her parents...?

"No, I think I was always aware that they were gone. It was just annoying, sitting and doing nothing instead of working on something. Hours of silence and trying to have conversations with people I hardly knew when I hadn't learned how to talk to strangers, yet, not really. Expected to get attached when I wasn't even attached to my parents."

Not enough to cry for them or mourn them, at least. Not enough to feel anything but empty.

And yet, she coined her digital creations like family. Perhaps he misinterpreted the way she saw coding, but it was a passion she clung to. That was enough of an answer. Her struggling to connect, to open up and holding onto a definition that made sense since everyone preached it- it's unfair. It sounds suffocating.

He raised his glass to drink a big sip this time. Pulling away his hand to grab the bottle and fill his glass.

"I think I am starting to see where you are coming from. It's not easy trying to juggle or explain the feeling of grief, and it's definitely not just any of what you have described or spoken about." He shakes his head. "Every individual is different and unique. They have struggles that become invisible wounds. Traditional treatment can only take someone so far, since for that, they need to reach out if they ever want to let go of that sorrow that plagues them."

"What I can't grasp is...you say you are not attached to them when you always speak of them fondly. You recognise positive traits and patterns. I don't remember the last time I have spoken of my own in the same manner."

Edited 2025-06-21 23:42 (UTC)

"It's hard to dislike people that I only remember the positive traits of... though that's part of child psychology, isn't it? Our parental figures usually have to do something quite drastic before we hit that stage of developing our own independent thought before we can recognize problems and faults with them."

She held out her cup for a refill, since he had the bottle out already.

"I was just too young to really know my parents. That's all. How did your parents end up treating you?"

Edited 2025-06-21 23:45 (UTC)

The fact that she clings to their kindness, their choices, their legacies—the computer, the puzzles—suggests an emotional imprint. Maybe not love as she defines it, but connection all the same. Even nostalgia is a kind of mourning, just softer and slower.

Maybe she’s measuring attachment by extremes—crying, tantrums, longing—when really, grief isn’t just what’s felt; it’s what’s missing after they’re gone.

She says she wasn’t old enough to know them. But then, why defend them? Why preserve their memory so clearly, even fondly?

She has more than a memory. She has a narrative.

He only smiles at her explanation, realising the pattern where she would bend inward and force herself into the same circular thought process. It's probably better to switch the topic to something else, but...that something else is a funny little topic.

He and his parents?

"Oh, sorry," he notices her gesture and pours more sake into her cup.

Once he sets the bottle down, he ponders, arms folded with his glass filled halfway with alcohol. "I mean...they weren't awful or anything. Ha- they didn't really treat me if you get what I mean."

"Both of my parents were respectable people. Over-achievers even- given my father was a corporate executive and my mother was a surgeon, but they were always busy."

He sighed. "They never really checked in unless you gave them results. And against my siblings, haha...I am not that special." He shook his head as he drank more of the sake and poured himself a fresh glass.

Edited 2025-06-22 00:16 (UTC)

"Really? That seems unreasonable," Ichinose hummed, sipping at sake fondly. "You're clever and emotionally intelligent. You're an extremely admirable man, their standards are absolutely unreasonable if they consider you unimpressive."

Silly, really. As she spoke, she started scribbling fingerless gloves on the doodle.

The alcohol spun in his system as he finished his first glass and went for the second one.

So much so that with the alcohol all over and within, his eyebrows hike over behind his glasses as he looks at her in shock.

A blush blooms on his cheeks as he finds himself fidgeting with his glass. "Oh, that's-"

"That means a lot," he chuckles awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck. "Especially coming from you, Kuon."

"It's just...pyschology is still a growing field. Most of Japan still scoffs at the idea of mental health awareness and I am not so well off back home. I am just some small researcher who struggles to manage his own money and juggling priorities between counselling and researching."

"But, still. Thank you."

"Just because you aren't a child prodigy doesn't mean you aren't able to achieve greatness. You're a brilliant man with a vision - however long it takes to get to that path, it's going to be a brilliant destination," she assured, saying it with full confidence.

She gently touched his arm, reassuringly.

"You'll make your world better than any psychologist could even dream of."

You're a brilliant man with a vision - however long it takes to get to that path, it's going to be a brilliant destination.

If it wasn't possible already, Maruki felt even more aware of his heart's existence the more she talked. When she touched him, his skin jumped, almost like a skittish horse before stopping there. His smile collapsed as he watched her, wordless, suddenly feeling like he had given a part of himself the more he simply looked at her. The unique hue of green in her eyes, like olives confidently held out, was even more tempting with the alcohol he held.

He can make the world better.

He will make the world better.

No matter what anyone says, because if there is even a voice that fuels the torch with which he wants to guide humanity, then imagine the thousands who carry the same sentiment. People with pain in their hearts. People who don't have vigilantes to protect them. People who do wrong to others with them pain. People who never got to live the lives they dreamt of, just to satisfy someone else's.

He returned her touch, fingers clutching her hand as he set his glass down.

Edited 2025-06-22 11:55 (UTC)

"Heh...you know, this gives me a sense of deja vu," he gulps, expression sober. "I remember when I was in the same position as this with a university friend, telling him when my research was first defunded. Think I mentioned this before, didn't I?"

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