(V3) Chapter 14: My Pain, Your Heart

“We’ll now divide the room,” Himiko-sensei continued. “Stand to the right if you support Sentinels joining our schools. Then go left, if you oppose it.”

One by one, students began to move.

Saori headed toward the pro side with calm confidence. Akito skipped over, clearly fueled by his obsession with beautiful robot girls. Ayase hesitated, then followed them—quiet, but certain.

I stood still.

Everyone turned to look at me.

And I walked to the anti side.

Dead silence. And the thuds of my shoe and my heartbeat are the only thing I can hear.

Ayase froze mid-step. Her eyes snapped to me.

“...Ishida-san?” she said softly, barely above a whisper. But she turned around immediately. "Hmph!"

Akito’s jaw dropped. “Bro—what?!”

Saori frowned. “I didn’t expect you to be against it…”

I ignored the pit in my stomach.

I didn’t answer. I just kept walking until I reached the far right of the room.

And to me, my decision is final. I just don't want to be suspected of hiding anything from them.

The "pro" side already had the majority of students. My friends, the girls and boys on top of hierarchy and heck, even classroom delinquents.

Behind me were some sore strays of the school with lost identity that doesn't even know why they're here. Some just fumbled with their phones and others were biting their nails. But I don't mind. As long as my mission goes through.

And Takamine-san...where is she? Her friend Ogawa-san is absent too...

Himiko-sensei clapped her hands to regain control. “Well. This just got more interesting than I anticipated.”

The room buzzed with murmurs, side-eyes darting between me and Ayase.

“Now that sides have been chosen, we begin the discussion. One spokesperson from each side will present their opening stance,” she said, “Then followed by open floor rebuttals.”

She glanced at me. “Ishida-kun, as the only Anti voice that is even interested in this debate. I suppose you’re the Anti spokesperson.”

I nodded, slowly walking up to the front. My steps felt heavier than normal, like I was dragging memories behind me.

My parents.

Myself.

I cleared my throat, trying not to look directly at the person standing on the podium across from me, Ayase.

She was the "pro" side spokesperson.

Ayase stood mighty, fingers laced together. She kept avoiding my gaze, and she held up a book probably with the script she just wrote while we were preparing.

“Take this one easy, Ayase.”

“Sorry, but no, Ishida-san.”

How cruel. I’m facing a Sentinel with an infinite stockpile of knowledge. I am clearly at a disadvantage, but I can use my experiences to make this one feel real.

She cleared her throat softly, and faced the crowd instead of me.

"Androids, should I mean Sentinels in schools aren't about replacing people. They're about supporting them. In a world moving forward, it's only natural we learn side by side with what we created."

Her voice is soft—but clear. "Sentinels don't cheat. They don't bully. They don't hold grudges. They listen, help, and in many cases...they care. If schools are meant to prepare us for the real world—shouldn't they reflect the world as it is? Sentinels are part of it now."

A female student whispers behind me, intrigued. "She's kinda good at this...oh boy, your words gotta sting too."

Ayase continued with confidence. "...Maybe what scares us isn't that androids are less human. It's that sometimes...they're better at being human than us."

The room is quiet.

Then applause from the “pro” side followed by the spectating crowd.

But I couldn't help but notice how Ayase flushed slightly. Their excitement is palpable and I find myself smiling in surrender.

That went pretty smoothly.

Job well done, Ayase. You're killing it.

And now, the "anti" group was going on the losing end. I need to craft something believable, grounded, quick, and effective.

I cleared my throat and adjusted the mic.

"Sentinels are known to deplete their own lifespan when met by bonds and feelings only humans are capable of carrying. Isn't that the contrast of their purpose? I’ve seen firsthand what happens when a Sentinel forms a deep emotional bond that outpaces its system’s stability. They’re not built to carry feelings like we are. When they get overwhelmed, it’s catastrophic. We’re teenagers. We're wild. You really think school is the safest place for unstable AI with emotional cores?”

I stepped back. “I’m not saying Sentinels are evil. I’m saying they’re not ready. Especially that they overheat when they get too emotional. Happiness, excitement, sadness and love—it's dangerous. Besides, when they expire, they are toxic not just to the environment but also to humans around them."

A few students nodded uneasily, some even murmured about a certain contamination in Shinjuku.

And Ayase, she took notes of her rebuttals.

“But not all of them do,” Saori replied across the podium beside Ayase, arms crossed. “You’re generalizing based on worst-case scenarios.”

“Exactly!” Akito shouted, pointing dramatically. “You think I’d reject a school full of adorable AI girls just because some of them glitch? That’s prejudice, buddy!”

"Just let them in!" A bleached-hair male delinquent followed up. "I hear that they don't feel pain. Don't you want it? We'll stop bullying real people and start shit with machines instead."

A group of delinquents cheered, even in the spectator section giving thumbs up.

“That’s a messed up idea, Takeuchi-kun.” Saori sighed.

"I understand the benefits and advantages." I countered. “It’s not about bias, it’s about danger. Since there are black markets around offering emotional inhibitors, which deletes memories of Sentinels, that makes the situation in school more dangerous. In Komorebi High alone, we have 1,600 students. What if the new student is an AURA, or CARE, which stores bonds, memories and autonomy? Then some punk installs an inhibitor to them? You know how that ends. You’ve seen the reports about Sentinels turning into Drifters. Arson, burglary and heck—even murder. With teenage life full of fun and excitement, that would be more devastating.”

I bowed, and Himiko-sensei cued the "pro" side to speak.

Saori adjusted her clipboard, stepping up next to replace Ayase.

“While Haru’s logic is valid—it doesn’t mean all Sentinels are time bombs. We’ve advanced far past those early generations. Emotional regulation systems have evolved. Failsafes exist, and recovery teams like Ferrymen are more competent than before. And let’s not forget, Sentinels are more than tools—they’re becoming people. They learn, adapt, and grow.”

She gestured to Inoue-sensei, a Sentinel teacher just watching from a distance. “I know that this is weird but, I’ve seen Sentinels give better advice and show more empathy than humans. They care. And if we keep excluding them, treating them like bombs waiting to go off, we’re denying them the chance to prove they belong in society. How can we ever hope for peace or understanding if we start by building walls? If my sister was a Sentinel, I’d want her to be treated like a person too.”

Saori and Ayase glanced at each other and exchanged a smile.

Akito practically slid into position, grinning like this was his showtime.

“Okay okay, yes, serious topic—but also—let’s be real. Sentinels are cool. Like, really cool. Some of them even have combat mode! But more importantly, they’re evolving like characters in a story. They feel, cry, love—some of them probably listen to Vocaloid playlists at 2 a.m. like me.”

A churning feeling came from my stomach, wanting to throw up in a cringe.

He pointed at Inoue-sensei too. “You can’t look at her and tell me she doesn’t feel. Inoue-sensei enjoys her profession and is capable of uplifting students like she casted an empowering spell!”

You really say that as if she acts beyond what she's instructed to...

“Also? I’ve met a few who are stunning. Like, 10/10 waifus. We can’t say no to beauty and emotional growth. That’s like…anime law.”

Everyone groaned. Saori facepalmed. But beneath the joking, his point landed. There was affection in his words—genuine respect, however ridiculous the packaging.

"Hey!" another otaku from the crowd called out. "Are you talking about Aoi-chan? The actress from "Reverie"? I've had lots of conversations with her about Sentinels and how great they are!"

Akito smiled broadly. "Yeah! You goddamn right! But that's my waifu!" he winked.

A laughter echoed from the crowd. This time I knew, everyone was hooked. And I'm enjoying every moment of this.

Ayase steps forward once more, carrying a smile of victory. "Sentinels deserve the same respect as any regular citizen.” She paused, adjusting the microphone. “I know they can make great friends as well. Sentinels have a great library of talents in them and endless potential of knowledge. They can be a great companion in activities, such as singing, dancing, or playing music. They're capable of being teachers, mentors, and helpers, researchers—"

I blinked, and looked at myself.

In that deep hole in my chest that only I could see.

Researchers. The word echoed in the world that sank into my head.

There were my parents, always in a lab coat.

Always absent, immersed in a work I didn't even know.

I craved for them more than a kid craving for a mother's embrace and a father's love.

But when I did, I stood in front of their graves as if I never deserved that moment.

"Potential, huh?" I raked my uniform, as if trying to rip my heart out.

I chuckle, my heart beating rapidly, my sweat falling.

I smiled, maybe not the good kind.

That bitter, tired kind—like a storm's coming.

"Tell that to my parents."

Silence in the crowd.

They were stunned, unaware of what I was about to bring out.

I inhaled sharply, a low-pitched whistle escaping my lips. It was as if I absorbed something that started to control me.

My vision wavered between Ayase and Inoue-sensei, and I could hear the silence and people turning, and Ayase—she had that worry on her face.

I don’t know if this frustration was fueled by being ignored all day, but it already crawled to my sanity.

I walked closer to the podium and took the mic again, so tight that the wires bent and my knuckles turned white.

"Tell that to the family crushed in a car wreck...because a Sentinel glitched out—eyes glowing yellow, swinging at nothing like some monster—"

I gulped.

"Tell that to the boy—eight years old—me—who sat by the burning wreckage..."

"Badly wounded. Waiting. Praying. That damned Sentinel could fix herself. But what we received is a command of self destruction..."

Ayase clutched her book harder, reaching out. “...I didn’t know, Ishida-san…”

"You don't know…?”

"None of you could ever know the weight..."

Even the class clown’s mouth is shut tight. Even Saori herself, who stepped back in concern…or horror.

Some look down.

Some can't look away.

Ayase's hands clench.

Mine, already clawing, ripping my uniform’s threads.

"Programming errors. Malfunctions. Hacked systems. Wiped logs. There's always an excuse."

"But humans? We bury the dead, then give medals like gold coins."

"Machines? They get updates."

I glared—not just at Ayase—but every android-loving idealist in the room.

"Tell me again how we're the same."

“Tell me how this little safety you're fighting for can protect everyone.”

“And tell me how do I trust machines I perpetually resented and feared.”

The words hit Ayase like debris in a storm.

Because this wasn't logic anymore.

This was pain.

And this was me.

And all of them deserve to feel that.

“I’m sorry, Ishida-san.” she whispered, like a guardian wanting to jump and save me.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

But the line has been drawn.

Not good versus bad.

Not human versus machine.

But my pain versus Ayase’s heart.

And it all spun over until everything turned black.