It began in a place she once feared—her childhood bedroom, bathed not in the sterile glow of monitors, but warm candlelight and shifting patterns like code dancing on the walls. Posters of space and games flickered to life, almost like they were breathing.
Futaba stood at the center of it, barefoot on glowing tiles shaped like circuit boards. Her usual hoodie hung off one shoulder, and her hair, longer and looser, flowed like data unbound. But something felt… off. Different.
She looked down at her hands—slenderer now, tingling with warmth. Her heartbeat wasn't the rapid thrum of panic, but something slower. Thicker. Warmer.
"…what the heck is this?"
Her voice echoed strangely, as if coming from two places at once—past and present. Girl and… something more.
A mirror blinked to life on the wall.
She approached it—and gasped.
She was herself… and not. Her curves were softer, more defined. Her frame still petite but undeniably feminine. The way the oversized hoodie hugged her hips made her blink and shift, arms crossing instinctively—then falling when she realized the air was warm and welcoming.
Someone knocked.
The door opened.
Ren stood in the threshold, dressed in black with a faint red glow pulsing from beneath his coat. His gaze locked on her with an intensity that made the temperature rise even more.
"…Oracle," he said softly.
Futaba's knees nearly gave out.
"Wha—uh—why are you calling me that? Why are you here? Is this a memory palace again?!"
Ren stepped inside.
"No palace. Just you. And the fire you're beginning to feel."
Futaba backed up, bumping into her desk. Her mind scrambled to calculate what this meant, what part of her was manifesting this, but her thoughts were drowned by a strange new instinct—to let him get closer.
He did.
His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her glasses fogged up instantly.
"Is this a—uh, system bug?" she whispered.
Ren smiled. "No. You're just waking up."
And then, somehow, she was in his arms—held, not seized. He wasn't forcing. He was offering. And she didn't know when she started leaning in… only that she did.
His breath touched her lips.
And just before they met—she whispered:
"…I think I want this."
The world blurred into code and sensation, a firewall breached not by hacking—but by affection.