Chapter 2: Ability Two: Making Someone Distracted

"My buddy Haruki-chan is being babysat?!"

"No. I'm just testing your reaction. It's not like I can't handle myself."

Beside me was Takeda Akito, one of the only two friends I have on campus.

He's the epitome of a school geek and otaku that mistook cultural education for his life's passion. A modest haircut framed his face and his thick eyeglasses told his perpetual interest in reading and playing video games rather than doing any actual learning.

His fine mix of extroversion along with being loud and vocal helped me connect and recalibrate my social incompetence when it mattered most.

"Okay, dear wallflower hero. I believe you. You always put up that determined look on your face and I cannot mistake it from independence."

"...Pretty thoughtful today, aren't we?"

"Of course I am your buddy. No one hides anything from me. But there is still a lot about you I don't know..."

"You don't need to know everything," I replied curtly. "You'll probably end up laughing the whole day."

Because deep down, I just want to throw punches in the air or roll on the floor thrashing like a child.

The thought of me—Ishida Haruki, being babysat by a girl I rescued really stung my pride as a man.

How could she turn a disaster of an apartment into something habitable just by overnight?

I could do it…if I ever bothered.

And the fact that she seemed more independent than me despite my cruel years of loss, that hurts.

"Here we go again~" Akito mumbled.

Ahead, the school’s main gate came into view, a towering arch guarded by the ever-watchful eye of the turnstile system. The sun was blazing now, and the pathways were clogged with students in their white uniforms and blue blazers. The closer I got to the school, the louder the murmur of voices and the rhythmic clatter of shoes against the pavement became.

One by one, students swiped their ID cards or pressed their thumbs to the scanners, a daily ritual of us obedient cattles.

Komorebi High School.

This highschool is one of the biggest and most accessible by those in all social classes, thus making it the general destination for thousands of students graduating from their primary education.

I tugged at my own blazer, straightening it absentmindedly. I didn’t need to look like I had just crawled out of bed, even if it felt like I had. Shame would spill over if I left this to Ayase to iron up.

But not everyone was so prepared.

“I’m too late!” A boy dashed ahead, his blazer flapping as he sprinted toward the gate. He tried to leap over the turnstile in a desperate act of defiance, but his triumph was short-lived.

A towering figure stepped into his path.

The school’s security guard, a retired DART sentinel—Digitally Armed and Roving Tech—stood like a steel wall in his way. Its bulky frame stood ideal for most gym rats. “SECURITY” stenciled across his dark blue uniform, as he moved with eerie precision.

DART Sentinels were mostly used for military purposes such as scouting and combat. Their algorithm to follow strict command chains made them weapons of war.

In addition, emotional detachment means they use less power, so they do have the longest lifespans of all types.

Autonomy wasn’t also in their attributes, making them ideal puppets of world leaders.

Retired units can be used for civilian purposes, such as security and humanitarian crises.

“Identification card, not detected,” it repeated in its monotone voice, the sound grating and mechanical.

“But I’m a Komorebi student!” The boy’s voice cracked with desperation as he pushed against the Sentinel, his efforts laughable against the machine’s unyielding strength.

“Identification card, not detected.” over and over again.

The DART didn’t argue or hesitate. Its massive arms wrapped around the boy like a clamp, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

“The student will be brought to guidance for violations,” it intoned, marching off toward the counseling building with its squirming cargo.

I watched the whole scene with a sharp pang of irritation, but there was something deeper, too—a flicker of fear, maybe, or anger that was hard to pinpoint.

I didn’t want to admit it, but sentinels like that DART unit reminded me of how easily the world could be taken over by machines, leaving people like me behind in the dust.

"Well...that escalated quickly." Akito mumbled from behind me.

"A human security guard would've shown compassion and tolerance. After all, Sentinels don't have that. They just throw themselves and do what they're programmed to do."

Akito nodded sympathetically.

That’s how it is now. Humans are replaced by machines. Guards, teachers, drivers—everywhere you looked, there was a sentinel doing the job some human had been forced to give up.

“Mongrels,” I muttered under my breath. That’s what I called them. That’s what they were.

The turnstile scanned my ID, its screen blinking green. “ID: 20250001081,” it announced in its emotionless tone. The gates swung open, granting me entry.

I stepped onto the campus grounds, joining the sea of students. The sprawling school building loomed ahead, its polished glass windows mirroring the sunlight. Komorebi High prided itself on being modern, efficient, and forward-thinking. A fancy way of saying it embraced the Sentinel-driven world with open arms.

Even the classrooms weren’t exempt.

I walked into the homeroom just as the bell rang, sliding into my usual seat at the back.I kept my eyes low. It’s not like I’d just been rejected by Takamine-san yesterday or anything. Not like my pride was still somewhere under her shoes.

She stood there surrounded by boys and girls at the upper echelon of school hierarchy.

She blinked when our eyes met. But then she looked away, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as if I was never there.

Looking at them churned my stomach, it made me feel sick.

In addition, multiple love letters sat on her desk. As if she'll go on wasting her time on reading each one.

They were just another notch on her popularity belt. Just another batch of losers dumb enough to think they stood a chance.

The class immediately started. A human teacher lectured for our first subject, but in order to save face from embarrassment, I just slept my way to the next subject.

And the next.

"Buddy, you think I won't notice how grim you looked when you stepped in the classroom? Mind spilling the tea?"

Akito. A thin tankobon manga covered his face.

ED: Tankobon is the standard publishing format for books in Japan (especially manga).

“Problems.” I abruptly replied, turning away and glancing at Takamine-san sitting a few rows ahead. Her long and smooth black hair waved down like falls, a tapestry of carefully woven silk. Her side profile—a muse of snow skin and blue eyes like the clear sky, and her lips melted glaciers when she smiled.

It's just last night that she dealt irreparable damage. I'm trying to move on, yet my heart continues to beat erratically, betraying my intentions.

I confessed to her in secret. Just two of us, a quiet hallway, and a single ‘no’ that echoed too long. To a popular girl like her surrounded with chatty friends, I’m still surprised that she’s still keeping our dirty little deal of not telling anyone intact.

"I guess there's no need to elaborate." he leaned closer, putting the manga on his desk. “Trouble with Takamine-san again?”

I turned away immediately. Looks like Akito noticed.

"It's not about her." I feigned ignorance.

"Oh, let's say that you never sent a purposeful glance at her."

His grin widened mischievously as I groaned, sinking deeper into my seat.

“Drop it, Akito.”

“Man.” he sighed, “Normal highschool experiences, right? At least she didn’t put a palm next to your cheeks.”

"I did not confess."

Akito chuckled condescendingly.

"Too defensive! So it means she doesn't reciprocate your feelings?"

I deadpanned.

“You’re terrible at pep talks, you know that? You don't need to spell it out, nerd.”

“I’m giving you perspective, buddy.” he argued. “If you ask me, you dodged a bullet. Takamine-san's too high maintenance. Besides, you're like entering an inter school competition just to get her attention.”

Oh, wise relationship guru. I don't need your perspective. I just need someone that will empathize with my life decisions.

“Then she’s not the problem. Maybe I'm just too ugly to catch her eye."

I earned loud chuckles from Akito, drawing attention from a figure across the board.

“Takeda-kun.” a neutral, but firm voice. “Settle down, please.”

Our teacher is already here, and she was writing the day’s objectives on her clipboard with precise, fluid strokes.

Inoue-sensei.

Inoue-sensei again. Which could only mean one thing—'Sentinel Ethics.'.

It's a study of moral principles and social dilemmas about Sentinels.

She was a LUNA model—Labor Unit Neutral Android.

They were designed for manufacturing tasks fit with automation: assembling, lifting, packaging. Endurance over demanding tasks was the main attribute of LUNAs, making them susceptible for exploitation of corporate crocodiles and black market traders.

Their edge over DARTs is the experiment of autonomy and emotions—they can solve problems and adapt to changing work conditions.

Inoue-sensei, with her calm voice and soft posture, almost passed as human. Almost.

Newer LUNA models were introduced and successfully performed in more complex jobs such as counseling, teaching and research.

However, the capability of inputting emotions became a double edged sword—natural workplace anxieties like burnouts, fatigue and stress surfaced, and these kinds of emotions need to be stabilized by their own system.

But in doing so, it accelerated their battery depletion.

Inoue-sensei was no exception.

I never meant to overload myself with these kinds of information, but yes, LUNAs somehow look and act like humans.

“Good morning, class,” she greeted, turning to face us. Her synthetic face was flawless, too flawless—smooth and unwrinkled, with pale gold hair and artificial brown eyes that flickered faintly as they scanned the room. “Please take out your math homework from last night.”

In her neck etched her production tag, “1N-003”, a wordplay of the patterns similarity to the existing name.

A chorus of groans followed her announcement.

I slouched lower in my seat, my mind already wandering.

The thing about LUNAs like Inoue-sensei was that they were efficient to a fault. They didn’t get tired, didn’t forget anything, didn’t make mistakes. They were perfect teachers.

And I hated them for it.

Back when I was a kid, my teachers were human. They smiled when you got the answer right. They sighed when you messed up. They got tired and cranky and distracted. They were imperfect.

And that’s what made them real.

And Inoue-sensei? She was a machine wearing a teacher’s face.

“Ishida-kun,” her voice snapped me back to reality. “Your homework, please.”

I blinked, realizing I hadn’t even opened my bag.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered, pulling out the crumpled worksheet and handing it over.

"Please do not leave your worksheet crumpled next time. It's for aesthetics."

"Yes, ma'am." I mumbled, but under my tongue, I cursed. Sentinels are really just for aesthetics.

She scanned it with a flick of her eyes, her faint human hum filling the awkward silence.

“Acceptable,” she said, moving on to the next student.

Acceptable. Not good. Not bad. Just...acceptable.

The rest of the class passed in a blur of logic and philosophy, Ms. Inoue’s voice droned on. I barely listened.

The day dragged on, the minutes stretching into hours as I sat through the class. Ms. Inoue’s flawless handwriting filled the board, her explanations clear and concise.

But it was all just background noise to me. My thoughts kept drifting back to Ayase.

Her soft smile and the way she acted as if she belonged in my apartment. That wasn’t normal. It wasn’t normal at all.

And if the world found out that I am keeping her and living with her under the same roof, no amount of explanation letters could untangle the absurdity of that situation.

"Ishida-kun?"

I snapped to my senses. Inoue-sensei is calling me again.

She points out at the board, with the letters "C.A.R.E" written on it. "Please explain how this kind of Sentinel is beneficial to society."

So it was CARE—Child Assistance and Residential Element, Sentinels that look like children.

"CARE are Sentinels primarily used to bond with children in the absence of their parents. They are revolutionary types of Sentinels because they are skilled in babysitting and taking care of young children." I replied, legs itching to sit down. "Yet their core needs constant stabilization due to processing and receiving emotions, making their lifespans shortest compared to other models."

The class applauded—not wildly, but with quiet admiration.

"Thank you for your detailed analysis, Ishida-kun. You reviewed the concept very well.”

I felt a surge of satisfaction from knowing I contributed something to the conversation. Even though I failed to impress my main target, Inoue-sensei had still accepted my recitation.

And after that, my mind drifted again somewhere.

At the apartment.

I wonder what Ayase is doing right now.

I kept replaying Ayase’s expressions in my mind.

The way her eyes widened slightly when she was surprised, the faint blush that colored her cheeks when she was embarrassed, the small, hesitant smile she gave when she wasn’t sure how to respond.

She is unexpectedly skilled and efficient, and her timid attitude and vulnerability stood on the other pole. Perfectly imperfect.

And I find it...cute?

She wasn’t a pet, or a lost cause to rescue. She was a person. I had no right to think of her like that.

I shook my head. I shouldn't think about her this way.

I looked out the window, watching the sunlight filter through the trees on the campus grounds. The laughter and chatter of students outside seemed distant, muffled, like I was watching the world from behind a pane of glass.