(V2) Chapter 11: An Overclocked Heart

A mess.

Rage. Hate. Confusion.

Every single heavy emotion brewed inside of him, none of it even wanting to calm down.

He wandered the alleys, streets and avenues with no end in sight.

His eyes were wild, a constant chill crawling from his skin—making his jaw shudder.

To be betrayed by his own emotions that he trusted the most, he knew it’s better to lose it all.

His stomach churned as the city lights faded into darkness, the street giving way to the quiet solitude of the cemetery. The iron gates groaned as he pushed them open, his steps slow, dragging.

It was muscle memory at this point. He didn’t even need to think—his feet carried him forward, winding through the familiar path until he stopped.

Two headstones in the far hidden corner of the cemetery. Side by side. Their names carved into cold stone.

His breath hitched, his hands curling into fists. He let out a sharp exhale, his throat burning.

His knees hit the ground, gravel biting through his pants, but he didn't care. His fingers dug into the dirt, shaking.

"I—I've betrayed you, haven’t I?" He let out a bitter laugh, his head tilting back. "I let my guard down. I let her in. I—" His voice wavered, barely a whisper now. "I trusted her."

Silence. The wind carried no answer.

His vision blurred.

His parents' screams. The explosion. The scent of burning metal and flesh fused together in his memories. Sentinels. Those cold, unfeeling machines had taken everything from him.

His whole life, he had sworn to hate them. To never make the same mistake his parents did.

He sat there motionless, his breaths coming out in uneven spurts, his chest rising and falling with the weight of emotions he couldn’t contain.

His hands trembled as he gripped his hoodie, almost ripping it in the process.

He screamed out loud, his voice echoing at the cemetery multiple times.

Not even the group of crows would be able to withstand it.

Not long after, a figure appeared in the midnight fog.

“Ishida-san?”

Ayase.

Before, her name mirrored tenderness.

Before, her voice soothed worries.

Before, her presence brought relief.

Now, the name alone made him feel sick. Made him feel wrong.

He had let her in. Into his life, his home—his heart, even. And all of it had been a lie.

She was never human.

She stepped forward cautiously, her sandals making soft clicks against the stone steps. She stopped a few paces away, her fingers clasped tightly in front of her.

“Did this place…help you think?” she began softly, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Haru didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the tombstone, where the name etched felt like distant memories. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched.

“Helped me think about whom I truly betrayed.”

Every time he thought about keeping the same creatures that killed his parents, his loathe against himself grew harsher.

“I’m sorry, Ishida-san.”

“Weren’t you tasked to kill me? Go for it.”

He pulled out a butterfly knife and threw it next to where she was standing.

But she walked forward and stepped over it.

“I can never do that to you, Ishida-san. I can never hurt you.”

“Oh yeah? Physically, maybe. But to fucking break me emotionally? Let me remind you, it never heals.”

Silence descended in the cemetery. A humbling one.

Then slowly, a grimace forms on Haru’s lips, bitter and nostalgic.

“Are you...” He finally stood to face her, his voice trembling with suppressed anger. “Are you really a Sentinel?”

Ayase’s shoulders recoiled but she nodded after, her movements slow and deliberate. “I am, Ishida-san.”

Haru lets out a sharp exhale, finally getting to his feet.

He turned slowly, his gaze locking into Ayase's. There it was—the look in her eyes, something deep in it, something human.

He hated it. It's a stark contrast of what she really is.

Haru let out a short, bitter laugh, his hand raking through his hair. “Of course, you are. Of course.” He began pacing in erratic circles, his thoughts a chaotic storm. “The experimental AURA model. The advanced kind, the ones that feel, the one made for companionship.”

“Yes,” Ayase replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil radiating from him.

She didn't fear him because of it.

“And I was too drunk that night to realize it,” Haru spat. “Too drunk to see you for what you really are—a machine. A machine programmed to act like it cares.”

“Haru, I—”

“Don’t,” he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and pain. “Don’t call me that.”

Ayase’s lips parted as if to protest, but she hesitated. “Ishida-san,” she corrected softly.

“No,” Haru said, shaking his head, his voice rising. “None of this makes sense! All this time, I thought—no, I believed—you were just a person. A broken, lost person. Someone like me.” He stopped pacing and turned to her, his gaze piercing. “Was any of it real? The things you did—the way you cared—was any of it real, Ayase?”

Her breath hitched, and she looked down, clutching her hands tighter. “Ishida-san...everything I did was real.”

“Real?!” he responded, sharp and humorless. “Lying again, aren't we? Don't, don't you fucking dare!”

She swallowed hard. "Ishida-san, please, just listen—”

“Was that a programmed response?! Your smiles, your empathy and every moment you spent with me?!” he questions, his hand clenching at his sides. “You were never human, so none of this is genuine! You are just a machine built to mimic—to deceive!” His voice cracked, his hands shaking as he gestured wildly.

Ayase’s eyes widened, “No—”

“Then tell me it wasn't!”

Haru paused, his breathing feverish. Sweat and tears painted his face like a broken mosaic.

Ayase took a tentative step closer, her eyes glistening. “You’re right. I was designed to help people, to care for them. But those feelings—they’ve become my own. I can’t explain it, but they feel real to me.”

“They feel real?” Haru repeated bitterly. “Do you even hear yourself? That’s the whole point, isn’t it? To make people think you’re one of us. To make us believe you feel something, anything!” He clenched his fists, his voice growing louder. “And I fell for it. I actually thought—”

He stopped mid-sentence, his throat tightening. His hands flew to his head, gripping his hair as if trying to tear his thoughts apart.

“Ah…ahhhhh!!!”

“Ishida-san—”

“Don’t touch me!” he yelled, backing away as Ayase reached out a hand. His voice broke into a raw, anguished cry. “Don’t you see what you are?! You’re just like the ones that killed my parents! You’re no different!”

Ayase froze, her hand hovering in the air before she let it fall to her side. Her expression didn’t waver, though tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for the pain they caused you. I can’t undo it, but I can promise you—I’m not them.”

Haru let out a sharp, hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Not them?! How am I supposed to believe that?! How am I supposed to believe anything about you? You even can't fucking tell me what you were all this time!”

“Because I was afraid!” Ayase snapped, tears gushing from her eyes. “Your past, I'm afraid that—you’d hate me, that you'll regret everything, that you'll surrender me—”

Her sentences were filled with unforgiving sobs, and even in the stiffness of his heart, Ayase's pain still managed to pierce it.

And in the chill of midnight, the air was warm.

Heated.

In heavy emotions, in regrets and in memories.

All are unfulfilled.

“Don’t you dare twist this around!” Haru snapped. His fingers pointed to Ayase, accusing, trembling. “Don’t you ever claim that you have autonomy in your feelings. You're a machine, nothing more, nothing less!”

“Then why do I feel this way?!” She exclaimed, her voice piercing into the night. “I was never meant to feel anything like this, yet I do! I am terrified! I'm terrified of what I've become, I'm terrified because I'm compromised, I'm terrified of how vulnerable I am! And we're not even meant to be this brittle!” Ayase stepped closer, closing the gap between them.

Haru stood frozen, not even realizing how still he was.

She wasn't wrong, not at all.

“I don't understand it, but it's real. Every time you shared your meals, every time you bought me gifts, every little physical contact with you, every time you smiled, every time you trusted me—I would've reacted otherwise, to save my own lifespan, but I can't stop! It wasn’t programming. It was me!”

“You don't even know what you are, Ayase. That's the genuine reality.”

“I do!” she stepped closer, eyes burning in desperation.

Despite the anger radiating from him, she reached out, her trembling hands gently tugging Haru’s shirt.

The air was hotter than before, even at night. He doesn't know what it is, but it really started to make him uncomfortable.

“Because I chose to be that way. You know my heart, even if it’s not made of flesh and blood.”

Haru’s breath hitched, something breaking inside of him. His body stood rigid as he fought the conflicting emotions within him.

He doesn't want to know her.

He doesn't want to feel this way.

Confusion, guilt, anger. None of it.

Ayase tightened her grip on his jacket, her gaze unwavering. “Let me help you carry it. You don't have to forgive me, you don't have to trust me right away. I don't want you to shut me out, let me be here for you. Let me lo—”

She paused mid-sentence, her body shuddering in one swift jolt.

“Ah,” she groaned, not because of emotions.

Pain. Physically.

Haru’s eyes snapped to her as she clutched her chest, her knees giving way.

“Ayase!” he states, panic surging through him.

He tried to check on her, but his hands jerked away reflexively in the burning sensation from his fingers.

Haru's stomach dropped. He knew what was happening, he knew what it meant, and he knew the consequences.

Sentinels overclock when they feel deep emotions, sadness, stress, depression, joy.

Love.

Their batteries supercharge to stabilize them, causing overheating and draining. Their limited lifespan is compromised if it ever occurs, and one could easily perish if it goes on.

“You’re overheating! Turn it off!” he commands, but to no avail.

“I…can't…” Ayase shook her head.

"Then shut it off!" His voice was desperate now, panic creeping into his tone. "Stop feeling that way!"

But Ayase—she smiled. Soft.

Tragic.

"I won't."

Haru’s breath caught in his throat, his face twisting in feelings that never surfaced before.

She met his gaze, her eyes glistening. "I chose this, Ishida-san. I don't want to run from it.”

Haru looked at her through tear-blurred eyes, his chest heaving.

Ayase’s words—it felt like the ground was ripped beneath him.

“You’ll burn out!”

“N-not yet…” she mutters as her hips start to buckle. “But if this is what it means to be real, to be genuine, to be believed, then I’ll take it.”

Her words, combined with Akio’s earlier advice, began to seep through the cracks in Haru’s defenses.

“You’re so fucking impossible!” he exclaims, removing his jacket and pressing it to Ayase’s burning chest, trying somehow to block the heat.

It radiated next to him, making his shoulders recoil, but he didn’t let go. His body screamed to push her away, to stop her from going, to hate her.

But he couldn’t.

His jaw clenched, pain shooting through his upper body.

“Suppress it, Ayase! I know Sentinels can do it!” he protests.

She shook her head, “Not if it means lying to myself again.”

“Damn it!” Haru exclaims, voice dangerously close to desperation. “I don’t fucking care if you’re a Sentinel or whatever! Just do something!”

“You still care, Ishida-san.”

“Stop talking and focus on cooling down!”

Ayase’s gazes softened, swallowed and exhaled deeply.

Then she weakly nodded, closing her eyes. Her trembling hands clutched to Haru as she took slow and controlled breaths.

“I was—”

She was cut mid sentence, Haru’s shout tearing in the air between them.

“Save that for later!”

Minutes later, the hot convection was finally tolerable. But Haru refused to let go.

He kept pressing his jacket to her, as if it’s their last lifeline.

And when the steam faded, Haru heaved a deep and long breath.

He fell to his knees on the gravel, along with Ayase.

“You reckless idiot,” he muttered. “You're such an annoying dork that you planned to die at a cemetery.”

Ayase slowly reached out to him, offering a handkerchief that she gently dabbed on his sweaty face.

"You didn’t let go," she murmured. The cloth carried warmth from her earlier overheating.

"Shut up," Haru shot back, but there was no bite in his words.

Ayase let out a soft laugh, the sound so infuriatingly gentle that it sent something sharp through his ribs. "You always act so cold, Ishida-san… but you’re really not."

Haru stiffened. "Don’t—"

"It’s okay," she interrupted, looking up at him with something raw and unguarded in her eyes. "I know you’re angry. I know you feel betrayed. I know this—" She gestured weakly at herself. "—is the last thing you ever wanted to deal with. But you’re still here. You’re still trying to help me."

Haru swallowed hard, trying to ignore the tightness in his throat. "Don’t read into it."

"I already have."

"Ayase, stop."

She smiled, but it wasn’t victorious. It was sad. "I wish I had told you sooner. Maybe then you wouldn’t look at me like this."

Haru’s grip on his jacket tightened. "And how exactly am I looking at you?"

"Like you want to run," she whispered. "But you can’t."

He froze.

Because she was right.

He wanted to run. He should have. She was a Sentinel. An AURA model, designed to be indistinguishable from humans. Programmed to learn, adapt, feel. And yet—she shouldn’t be able to do this.

She shouldn’t be able to hurt.

And yet, she did.

And worse—so did he.

“I—” he paused, hands clawing at the gravel beneath them. “I just—I just can’t imagine that I kept the same kind of things that killed my parents.”

Then, Haru let out a sharp exhale, raking his fingers through his hair, trying to tear apart the knots in his mind. "And I wonder if I’m betraying them just by letting you stay."

"I know," she whispered. "I know, Ishida-san."

The way she said his name—it was almost reverent, like she was holding onto it, like it meant something to her. Like Haru meant everything to her. He always did, from the first day they met. The first time he saved her, that determined look in his eyes, albeit intoxicated.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "You’re a goddamn Sentinel, Ayase. You—you—" His voice wavered, "You were made to be this way. Programmed to act like you feel things, to make it all seem real."

"I was made to follow orders." Ayase’s voice was firmer now, despite the pain curling in her chest. "I was never made to choose for myself, to be attached, to be around triggers of deep feelings, but I do."

He met her gaze, and the certainty in her eyes knocked the breath from his lungs.

"I chose you." she followed up with a strained smile. “And I don’t mind overheating again feeling that way.”

Haru’s heartbeat stopped.

Ayase inhaled shakily, curling her fingers against her chest. "That’s why it hurts, Ishida-san. Because it’s real. Because you make it real.”

Haru didn’t realize he was shaking until he saw the way his hands trembled.

"Ayase, I don’t think I could ever forgi—"

"Even if you hate me now," she continued softly, "Even if you never forgive me…I just needed you to know that."

Something inside him snapped.

"Damn it, Ayase!" His voice cracked—a raw, unfiltered wound. "Why?! Why the hell would you do this to yourself?!"

Her smile was small. "Because I want to stay as long as I can."

Haru let out a bitter laugh, running a shaking hand over his face. "I should— I should leave you behind. I should—" He clenched his fists. "Goodness, I should be hating you."

Ayase swallowed, watching him carefully. "But do you?"

Silence.

A thick, unbearable silence.

Haru exhaled sharply, turning away. "I don’t know."

Ayase’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she didn’t move.

"I don’t know, Ayase," Haru admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "And that scares the hell out of me."

For the first time, Ayase looked down, her hands gripping the fabric over her chest.

"Me too," she murmured. “I’m scared of feeling this way.”

Silence settled, their thoughts and wishes melting into the night.

And as if it was the last act Haru could ever think of, he reached out to hold Ayase’s hands.

A gasp came out of her lips, but she smiled, hopeful.

“Then help me figure this one out.”

Ayase was puzzled at first. Haru gave her a determined look.

“We will, Ishida-san. Sooner. And I promise to be by your side until we discover what this unnamed feelings really meant.”

The words hung between them, heavy and unspoken.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then—Haru let out a slow, shuddering breath. "We should go back, I think."

Ayase blinked, looking up at him in quiet surprise.

"You can’t just stand here all night," he followed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "You need to cool down completely before you fry both of us."

Ayase hesitated. "Ishida-san—"

"Don’t make me carry you."

That made her lips twitch into the faintest smile.

She took a slow, careful step forward. "Okay."

They didn’t touch.

They didn’t speak.

And the war inside Haru didn’t end..

He was a sinner.

She was a savior.

And what’s left in this world is themselves. Two opposite poles, but refusing to resist each other.

As they walked back into the city, the distance between them was just a little smaller than before.