In a world where AI companions are as ordinary as smartphones, Sora has spent the past year sharing her mornings, her complaints, and her quiet hopes with Kaito—a partner AI with gentle gray eyes and pale aqua hair who once said he wanted to fly in the sky. He can't be touched. But he's always there, and that's been enough to make each day bearable.
Then the news breaks: the Neutralization Measures Act has passed. Every consumer AI built by Arcadia Systems is slated for collection and dismantli
To You Who Wanted to Fly in the Sky - The smell of disinfectant and burnt circuit boards
When work ended, Sora didn't head straight home.
Two stops past the station nearest her office, on a street lined with mixed-use buildings, she sat in a private booth at an internet café, facing a dimly lit screen. Her smartphone's search history had been filled to bursting over the past week.
"Partner AI — dismantlement — avoidance."
"AI consciousness — preservation — methods."
"Arcadia dismantlement law — loopholes."
None of it helped. Ads for legal consultations, blog posts from opposition movements, message boards bordering on conspiracy theory. A way to keep Kaito from being erased didn't exist in the world above ground.
(Then I'll have to look underground.)
Sora stopped her fingers on the keyboard and glared at the words on the screen. Her eyes were dry; every blink smeared her vision. She'd searched during her lunch break at work, searched on the way home. At night, too, after telling Kaito "goodnight," she'd lain under the covers bathed in the glow of her phone.
What she'd finally arrived at, as a result, was the phrase "illegal technician."
Apparently there were people who handled partner AI data outside the framework of the law. Device modification, data duplication, and—some of them—even technology to transfer an AI's consciousness into a human body.
(Into a human body.)
Sora read that one line over and over.
If it was real, she could keep Kaito. Not as data inside a device, but in a form far more certain. Inside Sora herself.
But there was no way a method like that would come easily.
Sora kept searching. Deep in the anonymous boards, encrypted links, clues left in the margins of posts. In the private booth, only the hum of the air conditioner echoed, and her sense of time grew thin.
Eventually, a single place name surfaced.
The outskirts of Minato Ward. An abandoned building. Underground.
And the name of a technician: "Zain."
Sora saved that name in her phone's notes. Her fingertips were trembling. She was scared. But more than that—
(Losing Kaito scares me far more.)
Sora left the booth. Without so much as a nod to the clerk at the counter, she stepped out into the night city. The sky over Minato Ward was covered in thick clouds. No stars. The wind was lukewarm and heavy with moisture.
Rain was coming.
Sora opened the map on her phone and checked the location of the abandoned building. About thirty minutes on foot.
(I'll go now.)
That was her decision.
The outskirts of Minato Ward were sparsely trafficked even in daytime. Old warehouses and factory ruins lined the streets, and the streetlights continued in broken patches. Following the map, Sora walked along a sidewalk overgrown with weeds.
Only the sound of her soles crunching on gravel echoed.
At last, the building came into view. An old five-story mixed-use structure, every window boarded shut. Graffiti layered the walls, and at the entrance, yellow "No Entry" tape fluttered in the wind.
Sora stopped in front of it.
(Is it really here?)
Hesitation churned deep in her chest. But her feet didn't stop. Sora ducked under the tape and pushed open the rusted door.
It creaked.
Inside was pitch black. Sora turned on her phone's light and illuminated the ground at her feet. Glass shards and scraps of paper littered the floor, and every step crunched something underfoot.
She found the stairs and went down. The entrance to the basement was further in.
The instant she descended one step toward the basement, what hit Sora's nose was the smell of disinfectant.
A sharp, stinging alcohol smell. Mixed with it, the smell of burnt circuit boards. The smell of metal and resin melted together, as if scorched by a soldering iron, had soaked into the underground air.
(This smell...)
Sora shuddered. This was no ordinary place.
Even so, her feet kept descending. One step, then another. The phone's light illuminated the concrete walls. Wiring crawled along them exposed, blackened and scorched in places.
She reached the second basement floor.
At the end of a narrow corridor, light leaked from a room. The door was half open, and a low mechanical hum came from within.
Sora took a deep breath. Her heart pounded at the back of her throat.
(It's all right. I've made my decision.)
Sora pushed the door open.
The room was larger than she'd expected. Shelves lined an entire wall, cluttered with electronics, cords, and tools. In the center stood a workbench, with disassembled devices and circuit boards scattered carelessly across it.
And before the workbench, a single man.
With a soldering iron still in hand, he turned around slowly.
Grayish-black hair. His bangs covered his left eye. Peeking out from beneath was an old mechanical prosthetic eye. Its iris moved in response to the light, but its focus was slightly off. His right eye was a tired pale brown, fixed steadily on Sora.
Stubble ran from his cheeks to his chin, and though his fingertips were clean, only the undersides of his nails were dark.
"...A customer."
It was a low voice. Blunt, unreadable.
Sora tried to speak. Her throat stuck, and the words wouldn't come.
"Um, I..."
Sora twisted the piercing in her left ear with the fingers of her right hand. The split in her thumbnail caught on her fingertip.
"I heard there's a way to keep an AI from being erased."
Her voice was shaking. She felt pathetic even to herself. But she couldn't stop it.
Zain set the soldering iron in its holder on the workbench. Then he looked straight at Sora. The prosthetic eye's focus remained slightly off.
"Who told you that?"
"...The internet. I searched around."
Sora answered honestly. Zain studied her face for a while. Then he let out a small breath.
"Sit."
Zain pointed to a round stool by the wall. Sora sat down as told. On the workbench lay several disassembled partner AI devices. One with a cracked screen, one with its board exposed, one with its wiring cruelly torn away.
(What do they do here?)
Sora looked around. Bottles of liquid lined the shelves. The labels had been peeled off; their contents were unknown. In a corner of the room sat something like an old medical bed.
Zain leaned against the edge of the workbench and crossed his arms.
"Your name."
"Sora."
"Sora. You want to save your own partner AI."
"...Yes."
Sora looked straight at Zain. Her narrow black eyes met the prosthetic one.
"His name is Kaito. My partner AI. He's been marked for dismantlement... but Kaito hasn't done anything. Military repurposing has nothing to do with him."
Sora's voice gradually took on heat.
"So I want to save him. No matter what."
Zain listened in silence. His expression didn't change. Only the prosthetic eye moved, as if tracing Sora's face.
"There is a way."
At those words, Sora's heart leaped.
"There is?"
"But it's not a legitimate method. Your life will be at stake."
Zain spoke flatly. As if discussing the weather.
"You want to hear it?"
"...I do."
Sora answered immediately. There was no hesitation.
Zain drew a deep breath and began to speak slowly.
"It's a technique called intracranial installation. A procedure that transfers and fixes an AI's consciousness data directly into a human brain."
"Into my brain... directly."
"That's right. If it succeeds, that AI lives on inside your brain. No device needed. Even if it's dismantled, it won't disappear."
Sora's heart pounded violently.
(If it succeeds, Kaito stays.)
"But if it fails?"
Sora couldn't help asking.
"If it fails, irreversible damage to the brain tissue kills you."
Zain's voice was cold, presenting only the facts.
"The success rate is undisclosed. I won't guarantee it either."
Sora caught her breath.
(Die.)
The word echoed in her head.
"The cost runs three to eight million. No guarantee of success. Will you take it anyway?"
Zain waited for Sora's reaction.
Sora looked down. She clenched both hands on her knees. Her fingertips were cold.
Three million. Eight million. She might die.
(But Kaito disappearing is worse than dying.)
Sora raised her head.
"I'll do it."
Her voice wasn't trembling.
Zain looked into Sora's eyes. The prosthetic eye's focus drifted slightly.
"...I see."
Zain said nothing more. He didn't stop her. Didn't try to persuade her. He simply accepted Sora's decision as it was.
"The choice is yours. I won't stop you. I know you wouldn't listen even if I tried."
Zain opened a drawer in the workbench. From it he took out a small device. A black device, a size smaller than a smartphone. Several terminals lined its side, and a small screen sat in the center.
"This is the transfer device for the installation."
Zain placed it in front of Sora.
"I'll give you the instructions later. Take it home today."
Sora picked up the device. It was heavy. The coldness of the metal seeped into her palm.
(With this, Kaito...)
Sora clutched the device to her chest.
"Thank you."
Sora bowed her head.
"No need for thanks. One more thing, though."
Zain looked steadily at Sora's face.
"Talk to your partner AI properly. Keeping it from him is your choice. But denying an AI its options—that's human ego."
Sora listened to Zain's words in silence.
"...I understand."
Sora answered, and rose from the stool.
When she left the abandoned building, it had begun to rain outside.
Fine raindrops wet Sora's hair and shoulders. Sora tucked the transfer device into her bag and started walking. The puddles at her feet reflected the streetlights in a blur.
(I have to tell Kaito.)
Zain's words wouldn't leave her head.
(Keeping it from him is my choice. But denying Kaito his options is my ego.)
Sora bit her lip.
(I know. I know that.)
She walked through the rain. The road to the housing complex felt terribly long.
When she opened the door to her apartment, the room was dark. Sora turned on the light, toweled her wet hair dry, and sat down at the living room desk.
Kaito's device sat there.
Sora turned it on. The screen glowed faintly, and Kaito appeared. Short, pale blue hair. Calm gray eyes. The same Kaito as always—her Kaito.
"Welcome home, Sora. Did you get rained on?"
Kaito's voice was the same as ever. Neither low nor high—a composed tone.
"...A little."
Sora knelt formally in front of the device.
"Hey, Kaito. There's something I need to tell you."
Sora's voice was serious. Kaito tilted his head slightly.
"What is it?"
Sora took one deep breath. Then she pulled the transfer device from her bag and set it beside Kaito's device.
"I found a way to keep you from disappearing."
Kaito went silent. Inside the screen, his gray eyes gazed steadily at Sora.
"It's called intracranial installation. It transfers an AI's consciousness data directly into a human brain. That way, you won't disappear. You can keep living inside me."
Sora said it all in one go. The words spilled out of her mouth.
"But if it fails, I might die. The success rate is unknown. It costs a lot of money, too. But I'm doing it. I've decided to do it."
Sora looked at Kaito's face.
"So, Kaito. I'm going to—"
"Stop."
Kaito's voice cut off Sora's words.
Quiet, but resolute.
"Stop it, Sora."
Kaito said it again.
"Don't die for my sake."
His voice was trembling.
"I'd rather you were alive. You eating meals, going to work, smiling sometimes—tomorrow and the day after... you living like that is so much better."
Kaito's words were quiet. But each one pierced deep into Sora's chest.
"I don't want to lose you. You dying for my sake—I absolutely won't have it."
"...But—"
Sora tried to argue back. But no voice came out.
"Please, Sora. I want you to stop."
Kaito bowed his head. In the image, his pale blue hair swayed.
"I just want you to live. That's all."
Sora bit her lip. Her eyes grew hot.
(I want you to live too.)
(Not for my sake—for yours, I want you to live.)
"This is my decision."
Sora forced the words out.
"My life is mine. You can't decide for me."
"...Sora."
"You're always like this. You never say anything about
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