Tobi couldn’t remember where it had happened. At some sort of chain restaurant, maybe. He remembered riding the bus to get there. Maybe his brother had taken him to a shopping center, and they’d stopped at a restaurant while they were out. He remembered his brother ordering a set meal off the kids’ menu for him. It came with fried shrimp, a hamburger steak, a piece of fried chicken, and pudding for dessert. A glass of orange juice, too, and a mound of red-colored rice with a little flag stuck into it. It felt like a feast to Tobi, and he vaguely remembered asking his brother if it was really all right for him to eat it. His brother had laughed and said that of course it was.
“You’re special, Tobi.”
For some reason, the one thing he remembered with perfect clarity was the moment his brother said those words.
✦ ✦ ✦
A car was pulled over on the side of the road with its hazard lights on. The large silver minivan was off on a side street where no middle schoolers were likely to pass on their way home. It was a fairly common type of car—you’d see plenty just like it if you paid attention. Tobi remembered Monika climbing into a similar one the day she transferred into his school. In fact, he was almost positive it was the exact same car.
He saw the vehicle the day after Asamiya handed over his phone in the supermarket food court. School had ended, and Monika had led Tobi and Ryuuko to the side street where it was parked and told them to get inside. She’d made it clear that following her was optional, but neither Tobi nor Ryuuko had reason to turn her down after everything they’d been through recently.
The minivan’s interior was quite spacious, and its rear section was equipped with two rows of seats facing each other. This wasn’t a train, so perhaps the setup was meant to facilitate conversation. The drivers’ seat and adjoining passenger seat were already filled, and a man in a suit was seated at the very back.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said. “You two are Otogiri and Shiratama, I presume?”
Tobi couldn’t tell how old he was, but he wasn’t young. He had a narrow face, an excessively cheerful smile, and a loud, nasal voice.
“Well, go on, then! Have a seat! Pile in, please!” he said, half rising as he beckoned Tobi and Ryuuko to sit across from him.
Monika sat down beside the man and gestured for the others to hurry up. Tobi and Ryuuko took their seats without a word. A moment later, the minivan’s sliding door closed on its own.
“Well,” the man said as he settled into his seat once more and unbuttoned his jacket. “Where to start? You know, you’d be surprised how nerve-racking it is to meet youngsters like yourselves. Let’s see… Oh, right—let’s get on the road, shall we?”
The driver immediately started up the car. Ryuuko was petrified, and seeing the anxiety written all over her face was making it hard for Tobi to keep his cool as well.
“It’ll be fine, Tobi. I’m right here with you,” Baku said. His calm, collected demeanor might’ve been an act, but it was reassuring.
“Oh… That’s right.” The man pulled a business card holder from his jacket. He slid out a pair of cards and handed them to Tobi and Ryuuko. “You can call me Kudou. It’s a pleasure.”
“Th-thank you very much!” Ryuuko yelped as she accepted a card with both hands.
Tobi took the other and quickly skimmed the words printed on it. “The Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office…Management Division Chief…Keiki Kudou,” he read out loud.
“In short, I’m with the government,” Kudou replied with a smile, rubbing his hands together. “A public servant, if you’d prefer. I work day in and day out for the people of this nation. Truth be told, someone else was supposed to meet with you today, but there was a bit of a scheduling problem, and things didn’t work out as planned. That person was particularly adamant, and I just happened to be free, so I have the pleasure of visiting you in their stead.”
“…Umm, excuse me,” Ryuuko timidly interjected. “What exactly is your relationship with Monika, if I may ask?”
“Oh, of course!” Kudou’s eyes went wide. “You would be curious, yes. Naturally. I’m acquainted with her legal guardian. To be specific, I’m both their friend and their professional superior. Monika helps them with their work, and they happen to be my friend and subordinate.”
“Basically, he’s my boss’s boss.” Monika shot the man a look that made it clear she wasn’t particularly happy about this. “I don’t have parents, but I do have someone who looks after me—that’s my legal guardian. I just help them out from time to time, and when I’m on the job, my guardian’s my direct superior.”
“Hence, I’m her boss’s boss,” Kudou cheerfully reiterated. A smile seemed to be his default—or perhaps only—expression, but that wasn’t to say his face didn’t change. He would narrow his eyes, raise a corner of his mouth in a lopsided grin, and flash his teeth from time to time. He was a man of many smiles.
“And her guardian is…?” Ryuuko asked, glancing toward the driver’s seat.
“Not here,” Monika said with a shrug. “The boss doesn’t really like tagging along for stuff like this. Oh—‘the boss’ is just a nickname.”
“It sounds like you have some very unique interpersonal relationships,” noted Ryuuko. “Though I suppose that’s just like you.”
“More importantly, HEA!” Kudou said, clapping his hands together. “We’ve analyzed the program, and under the circumstances, I felt it best to keep you two in the loop. Cutting to the chase: It isn’t a social networking app at all.”
“It’s made to look like one,” Monika chimed in, “but that’s where the similarities end.”
A good portion of the explanation ended up flying over Tobi’s head, but this is what he gathered in the end: Real social networking services use the internet to help people connect with friends or find others with similar hobbies and interests. When someone like Asamiya used HEA, however, they weren’t interacting with other users at all. In fact, the app didn’t even connect to the internet. HEA was a purely single-user app designed to look like a social network. When Asamiya booted up the program and sent a message, it would seem as though other users were responding with comments or questions. But in reality, those users were nothing more than the program’s preloaded AI generating text.
“…Wh-what on earth is the purpose of something like that?” The explanation had left Ryuuko’s head spinning.
Tobi could tell how confused she was, but he wasn’t doing much better himself. It was a very strange story.
“So it’s basically just a game?” he asked.
“Could be—or there could be something more to it,” Monika crossed her arms and shook her head, sending her shaggy mass of hair flying. “What we know for sure is that Asamiya’s relapse began after he started using the app. He doesn’t remember installing it himself, but someone with the right know-how could have used a backdoor—a type of computer virus—to put it on his phone. If that’s what happened, they covered their tracks pretty well, so it’s not much of a lead. We weren’t even able to figure out the exact date or time the app was installed.”
“Gaaah…!” Baku moaned.
Ryuuko clutched her temples. “…I—I think my head is about to burst…”
Tobi was right there with her. He already had a headache.
“In short,” said Kudou, “it’s a super suspicious app that’s also mega dangerous.”
His smile never faltered, and watching his expression was making it hard for Tobi to tell the actual severity of the situation.
“Nothing that resembles our mystery app seems to be circulating online,” he continued. “And we suspect that someone installed it on his phone in person. Assuming it happened at school, that narrows down our suspects to students and teachers. We have a few strings we can pull to get in with the teachers, so we’ll handle that. But the students pose more of an issue.”
Kudou leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.
“…What a conundrum. I just don’t know what to do,” he said. “Middle schools are full of middle schoolers. Of course they are! And I am a mere public servant. I’m no police officer, and even the police have problems investigating schools. But we’re in an even worse position. I’m at a total loss here…”
“In case you need a translation, he’s asking if we’ll help.” Monika shot the man a contemptuous glare. “Not like you needed to ask in my case. This is business as usual for me. I’m not doing this for fun, you know? It’s basically my job. At any rate, you’re paying me for it.”
“Heh-heh-heh…” Kudou chuckled and, still leaning forward, tilted his head up. “The two of you will be rewarded as well, of course—though we’ll have you sign a contract before any funds can be exchanged. You know how it is with government business. We have to dot all our i’s and cross all our t’s where money’s concerned.”
“…Huh?”
Tobi turned to look out one of the minivan’s windows. They were dark—probably tinted—and the outside world looked gloomy and shadowed. He hadn’t been able to see in from outside, either. Where was this car taking them? Had it really been a good idea to climb aboard so casually? Kudou claimed to be a civil servant and part of the Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office. But could Tobi take him at his word? Was there any guarantee he was telling the truth?
“Could it be…?” Ryuuko said, leaning forward and squeezing Chinurasha’s pouch. “Are you recruiting us to be part of a secret organization…?”