After the surprisingly quick conclusion of his final psychiatric examination, Hayashi Aoyama and Ayumi Ito stepped out of the hospital.
The silver mist of the morning had cleared, replaced by the sharp, unforgiving glare of the summer sun. The Metropolitan First People's Hospital was a sprawling complex of sterile white stone and glass, a monument to the city's obsession with health and longevity, at least for those who could afford it.
Of course, the complete results of a full physical and psychiatric workup weren't going to be ready in an hour. Aoyama would have to wait a few days to receive the official report that would either vindicate his "madness" or condemn it.
However, as they were leaving, Dr. Ogawa (the psychiatrist who had handled the evaluation) seemed strangely agitated. He'd followed them to the lobby, his professional mask slipping to reveal a look of intense, almost predatory curiosity. It was as if he wanted to forcibly admit Aoyama to the inpatient wing right then and there.
Aoyama, however, hadn't paid him much mind. He strolled down the sidewalk, his hands deep in his pockets, chatting with Ayumi as if they were just returning from a casual lunch.
"So, Ito-san, what's for dinner tonight?"
It wasn't even noon yet, and Aoyama was already mentally planning his next culinary masterpiece.
"Dinner? I... I haven't really thought about it yet, Sensei," Ayumi admitted, her mind still reeling from the "Bone vs. Cash" debacle in the doctor's office. "But more importantly, do you have the manuscript for Chapter 23 ready?"
As a dedicated editor, the deadline was never far from her thoughts.
"Oh, that? It's back at my place," Aoyama said, giving her a quick thumbs-up. "Why don't you come grocery shopping with me? We can grab the ingredients, head back to the studio, and I'll give you the pages over a nice home-cooked meal."
"Well..."
Ayumi hesitated. She didn't have any particular plans, but she couldn't help but worry. After witnessing Aoyama's clearly unconventional mental state during the evaluation, combined with his history of bizarre behavior that he himself found perfectly rational, she felt a pang of concern.
"Sensei... do you seriously not feel that anything about your behavior is... well, 'off'?" she asked, her voice low.
"Off? Me?" Aoyama shook his head, a bright, genuine smile on his face. "Not at all! I feel fantastic! And it's not like I'm out here hurting people or causing trouble, right?"
Ayumi thought about it. 'He's right,' she realized.
Even at his most unhinged, Aoyama was never a burden to society. Aside from appearing... well, "different" from a typical adult, he was actually quite kind and considerate.
But she'd heard that for those suffering from severe mental illness, the world they perceived was fundamentally different from the one everyone else saw.
'Is it like Maine in the manga?' she wondered.
In Edgerunners, Maine's perception of reality had fragmented. The world he saw was no longer the gritty streets of Night City, but a beautiful, sun-drenched wasteland. Because his internal logic had shifted, his actions (which appeared insane to outsiders) were perfectly justified in his own mind.
"Forget it... we'll know for sure when the report comes out," Ayumi sighed to herself.
---
Tachibana Akane's slender, pale fingers traced the spines of the magazines on the bookstore shelf. Finally, her hand stopped on a fresh, plastic-wrapped issue.
Manga World GoGo.
Even in the global landscape of the industry, Manga World was an absolute titan. For countless aspiring artists, getting a serial in this magazine was more than just a job; it was a "deification." It was the ultimate proof of talent, the gateway to the pinnacle of the creative world.
"I'm ready to check out. I have a member card."
Akane placed the magazine onto the counter along with a thick stack of advanced computer science textbooks. In the midst of the heavy, academic tomes, the vibrant cover of the manga magazine was strikingly incongruous.
"Hello. With your Platinum Member discount, that will be 241 yen."
The clerk processed the transaction with practiced efficiency.
Nearby, other customers were either pretending to browse or openly staring at the stunning university student. After all, a "beautiful soul" was a rarity, but a "beautiful face" was an immediate, undeniable source of aesthetic pleasure.
After paying, Akane stepped outside and hailed a taxi, heading back to her hotel.
Classes hadn't officially started yet, and although the MIT dormitories were already open, Akane had chosen to stay at a high-end hotel in the city center.
It wasn't just about the comfort; she certainly didn't lack the funds. But more importantly, the hotel was located on a direct bus route that stopped just a few blocks from Hayashi Aoyama's rental studio.
Back in her room, Akane set her shopping bags down and made herself a cup of coffee. She sat by the window, the bustling skyline of The Metropolis reflected in the glass.
She picked up the issue of Manga World GoGo and flipped directly to the latest chapter of Edgerunners.
Da-lang, da-lang, da-lang...
Before she could even read the first panel, her iPioneer 5 began to ring.
In the past, Akane had preferred simple, functional flip-phones. But after seeing that Aoyama used the latest Pioneer model, she'd gone out and bought the exact same one.
She looked at the screen. The caller ID simply read: "Aoyama."
A gentle ripple of warmth spread through her chest, and a faint smile touched her lips. She answered the call.
"Hello? Hello?"
"I can hear you, Aoyama-kun," Akane said with a soft chuckle.
"Ah, great! Akane, do you feel like having Fried Eggplant Boxes for dinner tonight? They might be a little oily, but trust me, they're delicious."
Aoyama's voice sounded muffled, as if he were already salivating at the thought of the dish.
"Fried Eggplant? I'd be happy to try it. But honestly... I've been craving that Shadow-Beef Salad you made last time. Can we have that too?"
"Of course! Leave it to me. I'll make the best salad you've ever tasted!"
Aoyama practically shouted his enthusiasm into the phone.
Without them even realizing it, their relationship had reached a point where they no longer needed to hide their thoughts behind polite formalities. They could be honest, direct, and comfortable with each other.
"I'll be looking forward to it then," Akane said, her voice dropping into a tender, melodic tone.
After hanging up, she turned her attention back to the manga.
Chapter 23: "The End."
Akane already knew what was coming. She'd seen the rough drafts. This was "The End" of Maine.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and dove into the story.
The scene opened with David getting Lucy into the car, preparing for a high-speed extraction of Maine and Dorio.
But as Lucy regained consciousness, the weight of the data she'd seen in Tanaka's neural link began to crush her. She'd seen David's profile. She knew Arasaka was looking for him. The fear of losing him had finally outweighed her loyalty to the crew.
She was pleading with David to leave. To abandon Maine and Dorio and just run away with her.
For most readers, this moment was a source of intense frustration and conflict. Maine and Dorio were their comrades: the people who had taken them in and given them a family. They were currently risking their lives to hold back the corporate dogs. How could Lucy ask David to leave them behind?
But in the next few panels, the reality of the situation set in. Maine and Dorio were already engaged in a desperate firefight with both the Trauma Team and the NCPD.
Maine, showing the desperate remains of his tactical genius, had used Tanaka (a Platinum-level customer) as a human shield. He'd strapped the convulsing executive to his own chest, effectively preventing the corporate security forces from opening fire.
For a moment, it seemed like they might actually have a chance. Maine and Dorio were veterans; they moved like ghosts through the smoke, their guns speaking in sharp, lethal bursts.
But then... it happened.
The "accident."
Maine.
As he was shouting for Dorio to fall back behind him, the world around him suddenly transformed. The gritty, blood-stained hideout vanished, replaced by a vast, golden wasteland.
And in the corners of his vision, the digital artifacts of cyberpsychosis (the "ghosting" and "stuttering" of his optical sensors) began to dance.
At the most critical moment of their escape, Maine's mind had finally, irrevocably, given way to the chrome.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]