The minutes stretched on as they waited for the bus, the rain creating a steady rhythm as it pelted the streets around them. Mikako was still trying to adjust to the unexpected intimacy of the situation. Ryo's jacket felt heavy on her shoulders, the warm, protective weight making her feel strangely secure. Her eyes darted nervously to the ground, occasionally flicking up at him, but she couldn't quite meet his gaze for more than a second.
Ryo, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease in the pouring rain. He leaned back against the bus stop pole, his eyes occasionally drifting to her, but he didn't push her for conversation. Instead, he let the silence hang, letting her simmer in her thoughts.
Mikako bit her lip, unsure of what to say. The sound of rain on the pavement and the occasional distant rumble of thunder filled the air, but inside the small space of the bus stop, it felt like she was standing in her own little world with him.
"…H-Hayato," Mikako started softly, breaking the silence at last, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ryo turned to look at her, his expression more curious than anything. He wasn't used to being the one who listened, but for some reason, Mikako's quiet words intrigued him.
"Yeah?" He tilted his head slightly, his smirk still in place.
"Um…" Mikako hesitated, her cheeks pink as she nervously adjusted the jacket around her. "I've never been in a situation like this before."
Ryo raised an eyebrow, amused. "You mean, you've never been caught in the rain with a guy who can't stop teasing you?"
Mikako's heart skipped a beat. Her fingers nervously tugged at the sleeve of the jacket. "No… I mean, I've never been flirted with like this. I don't… I don't know how to handle it." She gave a small laugh, but it was a nervous one.
Ryo's smirk softened just slightly as he heard the vulnerability in her voice. He could feel her discomfort, but it wasn't the awkward, unappealing kind. No, it was the kind of nervousness that made her more interesting to him. She wasn't used to it, and that made her a mystery. And Ryo, being the type of guy who liked a challenge, found that incredibly alluring.
"Well, there's no need to worry," Ryo said, his voice warm but still teasing. He took a small step toward her, just enough to close the gap, but not too close to make her uncomfortable. "I'm not the type to make you feel pressured. But I'll admit…" He paused, his eyes flicking down to her damp shirt, where the rain had made the fabric cling to her skin. "…You're kind of irresistible when you're like this."
Mikako's face turned a deeper shade of red, and she instantly moved her arms slightly to try and adjust the jacket, but it only made the situation worse. The way Ryo was looking at her made her pulse race, and the last thing she wanted was for him to think she was too forward or too easy to read.
"You're just saying that because you're trying to make me feel better." Mikako's voice faltered, a little self-conscious but also unsure. "I'm… I'm not like those other girls."
Ryo's grin returned, but this time, there was something more genuine behind it. He didn't push her to respond, and he didn't tease her for her words. Instead, he took a moment, considering his response more carefully than usual.
"Maybe," he said softly, "but that's exactly what I like about you." His voice was quieter now, his tone almost serious, as though this wasn't just some random flirtation. "You're not like other girls. You're different."
Mikako's heart fluttered in her chest, and she wasn't sure if it was from the warmth of Ryo's voice or the way he was looking at her now. For the first time, she met his eyes, though it was just for a fleeting moment. His gaze was intense, not playful anymore, but there was an undeniable edge to it that made her pulse race. She couldn't tell whether it was admiration or something else entirely.
"H-Hayato…" Mikako breathed, unsure of what to say. His presence was so overwhelming, but at the same time, it felt comforting in a way that was foreign to her.
"Careful," Ryo said with a grin that flickered back into place, breaking the silence in a lighter tone. "You might just start falling for me."
Mikako's eyes widened, and she quickly looked away, her face turning bright red. "I… I didn't—"
Ryo chuckled, enjoying her reaction. His teasing tone was light, but he had already decided—he wanted to keep seeing this side of her. "Hey," he said casually, "why don't we stay in touch?"
Mikako blinked, still flustered, as he pulled out his phone. "S-Stay in touch?"
"Yeah. You're interesting." He smirked, handing her his phone. "And I'd hate to miss out on getting to know you better."
Mikako hesitated before taking his phone, her hands trembling slightly as she started typing in her number. Just as she was about to press save, a message popped up on the screen.
Nanami: [Hey onii chan~ Did you like the pic? Should I send more? ♡]
Mikako's fingers froze over the screen.
Ryo immediately noticed her reaction. "What's wrong?"
Mikako stiffened, her face turning an even darker shade of red—though this time, it wasn't from embarrassment, but something else entirely. Wordlessly, she tilted the screen toward him.
Ryo sighed internally. Of course it had to be Nanami.
For a brief second, he considered playing it off, but he could already tell Mikako wasn't the type to fall for that. She had gone from flustered to stiffly composed, her posture a little more closed off now.
"…Looks like someone's popular," Mikako muttered under her breath, her voice quieter than before.
Ryo clicked his tongue, quickly taking the phone back. "Tch. That's just a misunderstanding." He smirked as if brushing it off, but he could tell the damage was done. Mikako's energy had shifted, and she quickly handed the phone back to him without saying another word.
Before he could say anything else, the bus pulled up, its headlights cutting through the rain-soaked streets.
Ryo's expression shifted to one of mock disappointment. "And just like that, you're going to leave me hanging. Here I thought I was really getting through to you."
Mikako shot him a nervous glance, her fingers still clutching the jacket tightly. She felt like she was in over her head, unsure of how to handle the situation, but also unable to fully escape from the strange pull she felt toward him.
She hesitated for a second before stepping onto the bus, her body brushing lightly against his. The rain was still falling, and the world outside was blurry, the streetlights casting soft glows through the mist. It was as if the moment had stretched on, yet everything had happened so fast.
As Mikako sat down, she looked out the window, still in a daze. The affection meter, which had been steadily climbing, seemed to freeze for a moment, as if reflecting her mixed emotions. She wasn't sure what had just happened, but there was no denying that something had changed between them.
She clutched Ryo's jacket tighter around her shoulders, her mind a whirl of emotions she didn't quite understand yet.
—
The bus rumbled forward, its interior dimly lit by the occasional flicker of streetlights outside. Ryo got in and sat beside Mikako, watching the way she gripped his jacket tightly around herself, as if trying to make sense of everything.
He exhaled, letting the silence stretch between them before speaking again.
"Listen, Mikako," he started, voice smooth but not overly playful. "I get it. That message probably didn't look great."
Mikako didn't immediately answer. She just kept her gaze on the rain-streaked window, eyes distant.
Ryo tilted his head slightly. "But don't overthink it. It's not what you're imagining."
She finally turned to him, expression unreadable. "…And what am I imagining?"
Ryo let out a small chuckle. "I don't know. But whatever it is, you're overcomplicating things." He leaned back against the seat, watching her reaction carefully. "I asked for your number because I wanted to. That's all there is to it."
Mikako narrowed her eyes slightly, as if searching for any hint of deception.
"Do you say that to every girl you meet?"
Ryo smirked. "If I did, don't you think I'd be a little smoother at handling unexpected messages?"
Mikako blinked, caught off guard by the logic. She hesitated, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the jacket. "…That's true."
Ryo leaned in slightly and, without breaking eye contact, called the number she had just entered. A soft vibration buzzed from Mikako's pocket. She startled, eyes flickering down in surprise.
"Looks like it works," Ryo said with a smirk, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Then, casually, he added, "I'm not expecting you to believe me right away. But if you ever feel like proving yourself wrong, you've got my number now."
Mikako stared at him, processing his words. Slowly, her fingers eased their grip on his jacket, just slightly.
Then—
Bloop.
The faintest, almost mechanical sound echoed in Ryo's mind. His eyes flickered toward Mikako's attraction meter—
—only to see it flicker once, then vanish completely.
For a second, his breath hitched.
The shift was instantaneous.
The warm, soft glow of the world—the subtle, almost dreamlike filter that had given the night a romantic charm—was gone. The streetlights no longer bathed the roads in a soft golden hue. The reflections in the puddles no longer shimmered with a storybook-like glow. Even the air itself felt… colder.
Reality had shifted.
The world had lost its artificial beauty, stripped of the delicate touch of whatever unseen force controlled the game's aesthetic. The colors dulled, the lights harshened, and for the first time since he had entered this world, everything felt painfully real.
"…Huh?"
Mikako's voice was small.
Ryo turned back to her, and immediately, he knew something was wrong.
She was staring at her hands, confusion flickering across her face like static. She flexed her fingers, then clutched the jacket again—this time, not with nervousness, but disorientation.
"Why… am I on this bus?" she murmured. Her voice was so quiet it almost got lost beneath the hum of the engine.
Ryo felt a chill creep up his spine.
Mikako's gaze darted toward him, uncertainty deepening in her eyes. "Who are you?"
Ryo's breath hitched, but before he could respond—
HOOOOOOOOOOOOONK!!!
His blood ran cold.
The deafening roar of a horn split through the night.
From the corner of his eye, past the window's reflection, Ryo barely had time to register the massive oil truck barreling toward them at an unnatural speed.
The world slowed.
The truck's headlights blinded the bus interior. The metallic screech of brakes being utterly ignored sent a violent shudder through the air.
Then—
IMPACT.
A violent explosion tore through the bus, engulfing the world in fire and shrapnel.
And then—
The flames swallowed him whole.
Pain—searing, consuming—wrapped around his nerves like living chains. His skin blistered, cracked, peeled. Heat flooded his lungs, turning his screams into choked gasps. He could smell himself burning.
Then time stood still, but only briefly. A pink panel overlapped reality.
─── [GAME MENU] ───
LOG OUT: ERROR
[You cannot log out at this time.]
Time resumed, and so did the pain. Ryo felt a shock ripple through him—he had never before been unable to leave a game when he wanted. It was almost unthinkable, yet here it was.
His fingers, now blackened bone, trembled as he tried to leave the game. But the moment time froze and the world began to shift, his perspective warped.
[You cannot log out at this time—.]
[You cannot log out at this—.]
[You cannot log—.]
Frantic, he struggled to exit the game, but something invisible held him in place. The flames surrounding him grew fiercer, encircling him like hell's judgment.
Ryo's mind raced. How could he escape this nightmare? Then it clicked. The save files! It was a simple idea, but sometimes that's all it took.
─── [SAVE FILES] ───
Time froze once again.
The flames still clung to his body, but they no longer moved—frozen mid-curl around his form. The agony remained, but the world itself shifted.
His perspective lurched.
He was no longer inside Hayato. His being merged with the game itself. The world transformed into third-person view. A game interface overlaid the scene, distorting reality into something more structured.
On the left side of the screen: a cutout of the protagonist he had been controlling—Hayato. A burnt, barely recognizable silhouette with male proportions.
On the right side: a blackened silhouette of Mikako, her body warped, curling at the edges like burning paper.
The background: an abstract piece of art—a burning oil truck colliding with a bus, flames bursting out in a horrific, almost painterly style.
A text box appeared at the bottom.
─── [ Mikako ] ───
"....."
Her name was still there. But her words? Blurry, unreadable.
Icons appeared on the top of the screen, exactly like a visual novel. His inventory was corrupted text, along with a few other icons that glitched in and out.
But the save file option remained.
He selected it.
─── [SAVE FILES]───
New windows overlapped the game scene.
The silhouette and dialogue box blurred as save file boxes flickered into place.
At first, he felt relief.
Then, he saw what the files had become.
Every single save slot had been replaced.
Some showed the moment of impact. Others captured seconds before the crash—Mikako smiling, unaware, the truck's headlights barely visible. Some showed the aftermath—the explosion, bodies reduced to unrecognizable husks.
And at the bottom of every file—
"???"
He flipped through the saves. Faster. Faster.
The same scenes repeated.
Then—
A voice spoke.
"──────"
The sound was garbled, censored—textual corruption bleeding into reality.
The save files vanished.
The screen changed.
He was back at the main game interface, but Mikako's silhouette had grown.
Her form stretched, the blackened outline warping unnaturally.
Her name had been replaced with question marks:
─── [ ??? ] ───
And her dialogue?
[#^# *** ## ***>>** ]
Jumbled. Censored. Wrong.
His perspective snapped, and his consciousness was dragged back into Hayato's burning body.
The pain slammed into him.
Everything intensified.
His vision blurred as the flames wrapped tighter. His flesh peeled in ribbons. He tried to move, but his body no longer responded.
He wasn't just dying.
He was being burnt alive—again.
And then—the flames changed.
They coiled.
Not just fire. Something more. The way they clung to him, digging inside, scorching deeper than skin.
He fought.
Forced himself out of first-person.
It hurt.
Like ripping himself free from something that had latched onto his soul.
His view lurched again—
Third-person.
The world was visual novel-like once more, but Mikako's silhouette was gone.
Instead, flames stood in her place.
And inside them—
If he looked closely, he could see them.
His missing save files.
His soul screamed for him to leave. But he knew that was impossible. Instead, he saved the scene.
─── [SAVE FILE CREATED]───
He selected it.
He entered.
And then—he deleted it.
If he wasn't allowed to leave or enter a decent save file, then—he'd just delete them all until there was nothing left.
The game mechanics forced a player into an earlier save if they deleted their current one.
So he did it.
Again.
And again.
Each time, the flames burned deeper. Each time, something was being stripped from him.
Something he couldn't name.
His body knew.
His mind refused to understand.
Then—
The world cracked.
The visual novel interface shattered.
A monitor flickered into view. Old. Bulky.
His Hayato's burnt body was ripped from the screen.
And then—
His real body—his normal body—began to separate from it.
Like a ghost exiting the corpse it had possessed.
But Ryo didn't process this strange scene as his eyes began to lose focus, and then everything turned to black.
Thud!
That was the last thing he heard as he lost consciousness.