“An internet cafe?
What are you looking for an internet cafe for?”
Yoshinon tilted its head, its eyes staring at Shiratori with utter confusion.
“Ngh…
to solve the issues regarding identity records and a permanent residence, I suppose.
If we’re truly going to prepare to live together, we should at least get these basic preparations out of the way.”
“No way!
You’re really willing to babysit Yoshino?!”
All the wild thoughts previously brewing in its mind had come to fruition, yet the other party’s acceptance was so naturally taken for granted—without even a hint of hesitation—that Yoshinon was genuinely stunned.
After all, for two people who had literally just met, this request was far too abrupt.
Yoshinon’s original goal had merely been to catch a glimpse of shock on Shiratori’s poker face; yet clearly, she had taken every word dead seriously.
Although trust among Spirits largely stemmed from being of the same kind, it certainly didn’t mean one would accept a total stranger so readily.
“You requested it, I have the capability to execute it, it brings benefits to me as well, and on top of that, we are of the same kind.
I believe I have every reason to agree.”
“No, no, no, wait…
Sister Shiratori, shouldn’t you really think it through a bit more?!
If you run into bad people in the future, you’re going to get taken advantage of!”
“That is not important.”
No, that was actually a remarkably serious problem.
While she treated matters of identity with extreme sensitivity, whenever she encountered human emotion, Shiratori displayed an almost paranoid simplicity.
At the same time, Yoshinon was thoroughly shocked by her matter-of-fact tone, bringing their conversation to a sudden halt.
The speed of the rain falling from the sky suddenly picked up, drops splashing onto the street, yet neither of them moved, remaining frozen in the middle of the roadway.
Yoshino and Yoshinon didn’t need to worry about getting soaked—they were entities that made the very sky weep to begin with.
But Shiratori clearly had no idea of this fact; the umbrella she had leaned over to shield them left more than half of her own uniform drenched.
(It didn’t turn see-through; please refrain from wild imaginations.)
Then, right as Shiratori locked eyes with the rabbit puppet’s gaze:
“Ngh…
Yoshinon, time is almost up.”
“Eh?
It’s this fast this time?”
A faint sensation of dizziness washed over Yoshino’s head—a harbinger of her return to the Neighboring World.
“Will I see you again?”
Sensing that the other party was on the verge of vanishing, Shiratori squatted down.
“Uh!
Big Sister Shiratori…”
The usually chatterbox Yoshinon suffered a rare pause in its speech.
“Is something wrong?”
“The way you speak…
Is it because you’re too direct, or because you’re far too simple-minded?”
Yoshinon adjusted the position of its eyepatch while speaking up.
“A conversation with you feels like an interrogation—just rigid questions and answers.
And you’re so bluntly direct that it leaves people…
baffled and frustrated.”
Shiratori’s emotional intelligence was past the point of being called “unreal”—it was as blank as an answer sheet for an advanced calculus exam.
Even Yoshino could tell there was something off about the dialogue, whispering something secretly into Yoshinon’s ear, to which the puppet gave a firm nod.
“I—”
Having her flaw pointed out directly, Shiratori’s voice trailed off as well.
Yoshinon took the opportunity to continue:
“Sister Shiratori, take just now for example: you used the umbrella to block the rain for Yoshino, yet you just stood there drenching yourself as if it were ‘the way things ought to be.’ No matter how much Spirits trust each other, to both you and Yoshino, you’re still just strangers, aren’t you?”
Indeed—they were ultimately nothing more than strangers who had met once.
“Not only did you agree to a joke of a request without hesitation, but that phrase you just said—don’t you think the timing was way too early?
It makes it sound like you can’t wait for us to hurry up and leave.
While Yoshino and I didn’t misunderstand, if you bumped into anyone else, they’d probably feel offended.”
“…”
Perhaps silence was the best response.
The puppet’s lecture—if it could even be called that—left her temporarily stripped of the ability to reply.
Sensing Shiratori’s sudden gloom, Yoshinon flailed its arms in a panic and quickly added:
“Anyway, Sister Shiratori doesn’t need to worry too much!
Feelings can’t be rushed.
Take it slow, and you’ll understand eventually.”
“Sister Shiratori…
I also believe you can do it…”
Yoshino offered her encouragement as well, her tiny hand clenching into a fist.
Though her words lacked confidence, her belief in Shiratori was genuinely sincere.
Shiratori parted her lips slightly as if wanting to say something, but the fear of misspeaking made her bite her lip, settling for a firm nod first.
“Mhm, mhm!
That’s the spirit!
Well then, until we meet again if fate allows, Sister Shiratori!”
Yoshinon put its hands on its hips with a triumphant look, as though it had successfully breached the indestructible castle wall of Shiratori’s emotional defense.
This surreal mental landscape gradually took shape within the rabbit puppet’s brain.
However, the remaining time had reached its absolute limit; both of them sensed the final second before departure.
Waving their hands at Shiratori, they vanished right before her eyes.
“Ah—wait!”
Even though she called out, Yoshino and Yoshinon had already vanished without a trace.
“…”
“…Just what is an emotion, exactly?”
Standing frozen on the spot, Shiratori stared at the location where Yoshino had vanished.
Only after a few seconds of silence did she utter those words, a subtle tremble finally bleeding into her tone.
“Just what are the appropriate words to say for a given occasion?”
“Are machine-generated emotions…
fundamentally different from the human feelings one is born with, after all?”
“Then what are these things inside me right now?”
She felt a piercing cold in her chest once more.
After questioning herself in rapid succession, she raised her head toward the sky.
It was raining.
The sky was crying.
“Ah…
even these two concepts cannot be connected together.”
How could crying be linked with rain?
Although the falling raindrops closely resembled tears, it was impossible for the sky to cry; it could only rain.
Letting out a sigh, Shiratori felt the corners of her eyes grow moist.
Her facial expression hadn’t changed in the slightest, yet tears spilled over uncontrollably all the same.
Using a finger to lightly catch the tear unbiddenly welling up from her eye socket, she stared at the translucent, pure droplet, her hand beginning to tremble involuntarily.
Then, shaken by the tremor, the tear rolled down along her fingernail.
“…”
Plip.
It blended perfectly into the sound of the rain.
It was merely a single tear, yet when she held a gun for the very first time, her hand had never trembled like this.
Tears were supposed to be so easy to control.
“Perhaps I really should take my time to understand.”
Rain continued to fall as far as her eyes could see; Yoshino’s departure hadn’t brought an end to the downpour.
It seemed today’s weather forecast had indeed been wrong.
“Things will get better.
At least I am still alive.”
Then, right at that moment, Shiratori uttered a very strange phrase.
To her, being alive was the single most important thing; as long as she was alive, there was hope for everything.
Yet looking at it now, this very line of thinking was perhaps the root cause of her rigid, single-track mindset.
“Perhaps…
it might be better if I stay here for a while?”
There was no basis for it.
Yet for some unknown reason—Shiratori felt that remaining here might bring her a tremendous surprise.