Reflective Mission

The VR chambers were buried deep within the University’s most secure wing. Miyuu figured this was either because VR pods were ridiculously expensive or because the administration had learned the hard way that some students would rather risk expulsion than face a Reflective Mission. She couldn’t blame them. If she weren’t so closely monitored, she’d already be halfway to the horizon.

Rows upon rows of sleek, black, glassy pods lined the chamber like an army of eggs waiting to hatch dragons. Or nightmares. Probably nightmares.

"Welcome, students! Please step inside your designated pod. Reflective missions will now commence!" chimed a gratingly cheerful android voice. The sound made Miyuu flinch, a cold shiver crawling down her spine. Déjà vu struck like a sucker punch—the overly chipper tone was identical to that obnoxious reception android from her first day.

She glanced over her shoulder at the other unlucky students shuffling forward, each clad in their own form-fitting VR suits. The air was heavy with dread, the collective vibe of people trudging to their doom. Miyuu’s suit was bright pink, clinging from neck to ankle in a way that felt both restrictive and embarrassingly eye-catching. She’d tried to reclaim a shred of dignity by throwing her cropped black jacket over it, but it wasn’t much help.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little confident. She had K.A.T.O., her ultimate ace. Whatever this mission threw at her, they would game the system. Easy. 

Right?

Her assigned pod hissed opened, the curved glass door sliding back to reveal a reclining seat that looked suspiciously like a dentist’s chair. She stepped in reluctantly, and the pod door sealed shut behind her, cutting her off from the outside world in a way that felt way too final.

Sinking into the seat, she adjusted the neural-link headset over her head. 

“Your wrist node will now make connection,” the android announced with far too much enthusiasm.

Her wrist chip blinked, and a familiar buzz coursed through her arm as it synced to the system. She opened her mouth to make a snarky comment to K.A.T.O., but his voice cut through her mind, his usual teasing edge absent.

I can’t go with you, he said, his tone grim. SOLON’s put up a wicked dangerous firewall. I’m sensing something really twisted in there. Be careful.

Her stomach dropped. What?! she fired back. You can’t just—

But before she could finish the thought, her vision blurred. The pod’s interior dissolved into a void of inky darkness. A pulse of static crackled in her ears, and then the world around her shifted.

Miyuu barely had time to process the icy wave of panic crashing over her before the VR simulation swallowed her whole.

As Miyuu’s vision sharpened, she was greeted by a hovering green form, all feathers and bright eyes.

“Welcome, student Tsukishima Miyuu!” it chirped, its voice the auditory equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. “Are you ready for your Reflective Mission?”

The creature, apparently named Frowl, flared its wings dramatically, as if it were about to take flight. Instead, it leaned closer, flashing a grin—or as much of a grin as an owl-shaped hologram could manage. “My name is Frowl, your friendly faculty unit!” it announced.

Miyuu crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Yeah, yeah, I’m thrilled. Can we just get this over with?”

Frowl’s glowing eyes flared. “Oh, impatient, aren’t we?” he cooed. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll fix that attitude of yours in no time.”

Miyuu gritted her teeth. “Uh-huh. Fantastic. Let’s skip the birdbrained theatrics, okay?”

Frowl fluffed his digital feathers, clearly unbothered. “Now, just select Tutorial if you lack previous VR experience,” he trilled, his tone suggesting he was speaking to a toddler.

“Go away!” Miyuu snapped, her patience already fraying. “Does this featherbrain know who he’s talking to?” she muttered under her breath.

“Oh, don’t worry—I know exactly who you are, Ms. Tsukishima,” Frowl said, his mock-sweet voice taking on a sharper edge. “And why you’re here.” His feathers pulsed with an eerie green light, casting unsettling shadows across the still-morphing environment.

Miyuu glared at him, refusing to rise to the bait. He, of course, wasn’t finished.

“I must say,” Frowl continued with a mocking pout, “I can see how you ended up here. Such a troubled, rebellious little thing.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but Frowl’s voice cut through again, annoyingly chipper. “Any-hoo! For your Reflective Mission, you’ll be under the watchful eyes of Student Council members Aoyama Shion and Kazehaya Jun. Rest assured, they’re very excited to supervise.”

Miyuu groaned internally. Of course they are.

“The mission will conclude after successful completion—or after three hours.” He cocked his head to the side, feigning concern. “Assuming, of course, that your mind doesn’t break before then.” His eerie glow brightened as he delivered the line.

“And with that, I bid you…” He fluttered closer, his voice dropping into a sing-song whisper. “…have fun!”

Before she could launch the string of profanities building in her throat, the space around her began to melt and twist. Colours bled into each other, shapes stretching and snapping back into incomprehensible forms as the simulation transformed.

Miyuu braced herself, jaw tight, as the new environment locked into place. Whatever fresh hell this was, she was ready to face it. Probably.

She found herself standing before a towering stone gate. The stone was carved with delicate floral patterns, glowing blue crystals embedded in its surface like a jeweller had a little too much fun. The crystals cast an ethereal light across the scene, turning the gate into a glowing monument of "welcome to hell."

Miyuu grinned despite herself, bouncing lightly on her toes as she stretched out her arms. One thing she loved about VR—how weightless and nimble it made her feel. It was like reality, only better.

The gates groaned, a deep, scraping sound that vibrated through her chest as they slowly began to part. Beyond them, a stone path stretched into the distance, lined with more of those glowing crystals. Fancy.

She glanced down at her outfit and smirked. She was decked out in a shiny suit of fitted armor, all sleek black and silver plating accented with faint blue highlights that caught the glow from the crystals around her. Despite looking like something out of a medieval-meets-sci-fi mashup, it felt ridiculously light, like wearing pyjamas made of steel. A long pink coat trailed behind her, fluttering with a flair that practically screamed main character energy.

Open menu, she thought, sending the command through her neural link as naturally as breathing. The emptiness on the other end hit her like a hollow thud. The dull ache of K.A.T.O.’s absence lingered, an annoying little reminder of how much she’d grown to depend on him. She sighed. "Ugh. Let’s just get this over with."

A holographic menu blinked to life in front of her, hovering mid-air with a faint hum. She poked around, her smirk fading as she realized her inventory was completely empty. No weapons, no tools, no snacks. Not even a sad virtual rock.

“Figures,” she muttered, dismissing the menu with a sharp flick. “The first time I’m in VR in ages, and it’s for some cheesy ‘reflective mission,’ not something actually cool. Like, I don’t know, a first-person shooter?” Her smirk returned as she imagined taking aim at cardboard cutouts of the student council, one by one. Headshot. Bye, Haruki. Double kill. Take that, Kaito. She could practically feel her mood lifting just picturing it.

She shoved the thought aside and started down the path, her boots clicking against the stone as the crystals pulsed faintly around her. The air was still, the silence thick enough to make her ears itch. After what felt like an eternity of walking through nothingness, a faint sound broke through the stillness—a soft, pitiful wailing.

Miyuu stopped, her ears straining. The noise grew louder with each step, a grating combination of muffled sobs and hiccups that set her on edge. Rounding a bend, she finally spotted the source of the noise.

A small, hooded figure sat on the ground, shoulders shaking as they buried their face in their hands, crying like the world had just ended. The sound was so over-the-top, it felt like a bad actor was trying to win an award for "Most Dramatic Breakdown."

Miyuu raised an eyebrow, folding her arms as she stared at the figure. “Oh, great,” she muttered. “What’s this? My tragic ghost of Christmas Past?”

Staring up at her, with tear-streaked cheeks and wide, familiar eyes, was a younger version of herself—this Miyuu was tiny, practically doll-sized. To her escalating irritation, Chibi-Miyuu was accessorized with a pair of twitching cat ears and a small, flicking tail that seemed to have a mind of its own.

Miyuu scowled, her brain immediately tagging the likely culprit. Riku. Of course, he couldn’t resist. She clenched her jaw, willing herself to stay calm and not scream into the VR void. Not yet, anyway.

She forced herself to focus, taking a deep breath through her nose as she stared down at her miniature double. “Alright,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “So, I’m supposed to help… me. Great. Perfect. Totally not weird at all.”

“What’s wrong, Chibi-me?” she asked, her tone halfway between patient and profoundly irritated.

Little Miyuu blinked up at her, sniffling pathetically. Her oversized white cloak pooled around her tiny form, and her twitchy little cat ears tilted downward. She sniffled again, wiping her nose on her tail.

Miyuu grimaced. Gross.

“I’m lost,” Chibi-Miyuu wailed, her voice wobbling as fresh tears spilled down her face. “I don’t know where I am!”

Her face scrunched up like a crumpled piece of paper, and her sobs grew louder—complete with hiccups and dramatic sniffles for maximum effect. Even the tail behind her sagged in a way that seemed engineered to elicit pity.

Miyuu groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was exactly the kind of emotionally manipulative nonsense she should have expected from a Reflective Mission.

Just as she was about to say something—what, she hadn’t decided yet—a notification blinked to life in front of her.

Quest Unlocked:
Help Chibi Miyuu solve puzzles through the labyrinth to reach the portal that will send her home.

Accept Quest?
(There was only a “Yes” button.)

She glared at the floating text, muttering, “What’s even the point of asking if I don’t have a choice?”

With a resigned sigh, she tapped Yes, watching the notification vanish as Chibi-Miyuu’s teary eyes turned hopeful.

“Okay, kid,” Miyuu said, cracking her knuckles and squaring her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”

The tiny version of herself nodded enthusiastically, her tail perking up as she wiped her face with her tail again.

Miyuu winced. “First rule: stop using your tail as a tissue. It’s disgusting.”

Chibi-Miyuu sniffled, wide-eyed. “But it’s soft!”

Miyuu groaned, muttering under her breath, “Riku’s so dead when I get out of here.”