The biology lab at Hoshinaka Senior High was unusually still.
Early morning sunlight streamed through the tall, east-facing windows, casting long golden beams across the floor and illuminating fine motes of dust that floated lazily through the air. The scent of rubbing alcohol, faintly metallic, hung in the space—joined by the crispness of sterilized equipment and the earthy undertone of potted soil.
Souta Minakawa moved in silence.
He had arrived earlier than usual to prepare. The room, which often felt clinical and functional, now carried a certain weight. Today wasn't just another class or routine lab session. Today was a test—yes, officially. But for Souta, it was more than that.
It was the first real-world feedback loop.
Each workstation was meticulously laid out with identical components: a medium-sized regenerative plant sample, microscope slides, tweezers, dissecting blades, gloves, growth charts, and a notepad. He paused beside each one, straightening a misaligned scalpel, checking the moisture level of a leaf. To the untrained eye, it was thoroughness. But to Souta, this was calibration. An experimental field.
The regenerative plant species they would be working with wasn't entirely ordinary. On paper, it was classified as Calidora rusticum, a rare but local species known for its ability to regenerate tissue when damaged. But in truth, each sample had been cultivated by Souta inside the Growth Matrix Space. Tuned subtly. Monitored carefully. Not dangerous, but responsive—especially to subtle fluctuations in mental activity and focused attention.
A living mirror, in some ways.
He moved to the front of the lab and picked up the whiteboard marker.
Practical Biology Assessment – Term 1
Objectives:
• Dissect and diagram vascular structure
• Analyze regenerative nodes under the microscope
• Initiate and document stimulation-based regrowth
Time: 90 minutes
Individual submission. No assistance permitted.
He capped the marker and stepped back. Nothing flashy. No dramatic wording. But any student who read carefully would realize: this wasn't about memorization. It was about perception.
He folded his arms behind his back and scanned the room. Eleven workstations. Three of them more important than the rest.
Yamada Koji. The quiet thinker. Disciplined, observant, and building momentum in subtle increments. His Brain Power was now at 0.8x. His Link Quality had advanced to Strengthening, something Souta hadn't expected so early.
Kana Ishikawa. Sharp and intuitive, with curiosity that often ran ahead of her caution. Her Brain Power had recently crossed 0.7x, and though her Link Quality was still Stable, her ability to draw analogies and question assumptions was growing more refined.
Takeshi Murata. Chaotic but clever. He had started the lowest—0.5x Brain Power at subsystem initiation—but showed the most unpredictable jumps in creativity. Now at 0.55x, he was building tools, rigging experiments, and pushing boundaries, often by accident.
Souta checked the subsystem interface through his internal overlay.
[Host Interface – Passive Mode]
Followers: 3
Yamada: 0.8x BP, 2.0 LP, Link: Strengthening
Kana: 0.7x BP, 1.5 LP, Link: Stable
Takeshi: 0.55x BP, 1.4 LP, Link: Stable
All Task Modules: Active
Monitoring Channels: Open
Perfect.
He didn't intend to prompt them. No nudges. No signals. This would be a true passive test. He wanted to see whether the system's growth paths translated into real-world behavioral changes—without them even knowing they were being measured.
His fingers briefly touched the edge of the teacher's desk. Cool and smooth.
He let out a quiet breath.
Today, he wouldn't intervene. He would observe. And through the system, he would listen—not just to actions, but to thought, tension, confidence, frustration. All of it.
Outside the lab door, the early-morning noise began to build: footsteps, chatter, the squeak of shoes on linoleum. The calm before the storm.
Souta returned to the center of the room and stood tall, hands folded behind his back. The bell rang.
It was time.
The lab door slid open with a soft thunk, and the first wave of students from Batch A began to file in. With only eleven workstations available in the biology lab, Class 2B's thirty-two students were divided into three rotating batches for the practicals. Batch A had eleven students—and among them, Yamada Koji, Kana Ishikawa, and Takeshi Murata stood out more than ever before.
Souta stood silently at the front, watching them without appearing to do so. His presence felt neutral, maybe even absent-minded to most of the students, but it was by design. Today, he wanted no distortion. Only data.
Kana's eyes darted toward the board, immediately scanning the objectives. Her brow furrowed slightly, but not in confusion—concentration. She was already building a mental outline. Beside her, Yamada had taken a slow breath, grounding himself before even reaching his workstation. Takeshi strode in with a slight smirk on his face and earbuds still dangling around his neck.
"All right," Souta said once the room had settled. "You may begin."
He tapped a panel beside the board, and soft instrumental background music began to play—just enough to muffle silence but not distract. The students turned to their tasks.
Gloves snapped on. Blades clicked into place. Leaves rustled. The dance of scientific inquiry had begun.
Yamada worked with methodical precision. He started with observation, taking time to record the stem curvature and node spacing in his notebook. His strokes were minimal but purposeful, using clean diagrams rather than excessive prose. He sliced through the outer sheath of the plant with practiced restraint, revealing the vascular threads within.
On the opposite end of the lab, Kana was already three steps ahead. She used her phone to snap a reference photo, then turned her sketchbook ninety degrees for better angle comparison. Her hands moved fluidly between microscope and plant, jumping between tasks and letting her instinct guide the order. She muttered quietly to herself, a rhythm of hypothesis and deduction.
Takeshi, on the other hand, wasn't even touching the sample yet.
He'd dismantled his workstation lamp and was redirecting the beam through a lens attachment from his own toolkit. When the light hit the plant from a specific angle, it caused the tips to shimmer faintly.
"Gotcha," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Souta observed silently from the corner, glancing occasionally at his internal interface.
[Passive Resonance Detected]
Kana: Creative Link Feedback (Minor)
Yamada: Cognitive Pattern Compression (Stable)
Takeshi: Exploratory Divergence Triggered (Unstructured)
His lips barely curved upward. Each student had defaulted to their mode of operation—reflection, intuition, improvisation. Even more fascinating, their energy fields within the Matrix were subtly shifting.
Yamada paused mid-sketch. He looked up briefly—not at anyone, just at the light refracting off the glass of the window. Then he bent down again, slower this time.
Souta's system pinged.
[Follower: Yamada Koji]
Focus Spike: +12%
Micro-resonance initiated.
Inwardly, Souta took note. It was starting.
Takeshi finally placed his gloved hand on the specimen. "Let's see if you like noise," he murmured, turning on a barely audible hum from a portable speaker. It emitted a low, consistent frequency.
The plant responded. Its edges twitched.
Kana glanced over briefly, eyes narrowing, then returned to her sample. She adjusted her microscope's fine focus with a deliberate twist and whispered, "You're not the only one who can listen."
[Follower: Kana Ishikawa]
Local Sync Response: Detected (Cross-reference: Takeshi Murata)
Souta exhaled slowly.
They were learning not just from the assignment—but from each other.
The room was thick with quiet intent. Even the background music faded from perception, replaced by the low ambient hum of analytical concentration.
Kana's brow furrowed deeper. She switched microscope lenses and then took a sudden step back.
"What the—" she murmured. Under the lens, the plant had shown a shift—almost like an internal pulse. It wasn't documented in textbooks.
Yamada had noticed too. "The nodes aren't just static," he said aloud. "They're reacting to touch. Very faintly."
Takeshi laughed softly. "They're alive, obviously."
"No," Kana countered. "They're aware."
Souta's pulse quickened, but he didn't move. This was the moment he'd been waiting for.
Real insight. Real risk-taking. Real wonder.
He checked the interface again:
[Micro-Resonance Cluster Forming: Yamada ↔ Kana ↔ Takeshi]
Synchronization Thread Active
The early signs of harmony. Emotional echo. Cognitive frequency alignment.
They were becoming more than individuals.
They were becoming a cohort.