Akira's consciousness drifted in the void, floating between life and death, until he felt an unexpected pull—a surge of warmth and light that seemed to tether him back to existence. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the cold, dark cell of the Tenryou Commission. Instead, he found himself in a place of elegance and tranquility, surrounded by the serene beauty of a traditional Inazuman estate.
But he wasn’t truly there—at least not physically. His form was ethereal, like a faint echo. As he looked around, he realized he was seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. The graceful movements, the poised demeanor, the quiet strength—it was unmistakably Kamisato Ayaka.
Day 1: Awakening
Akira's consciousness flickered back like a weak flame struggling against the wind. He awoke suddenly, disoriented, to find himself observing through unfamiliar eyes. The soft scratch of a brush against paper echoed around him—Ayaka was practicing calligraphy.
"Where... am I? What’s happening?" Akira’s thoughts echoed in his mind. "Wait—this isn’t my body. Whose hands are these? So delicate… and everything around me looks so clean, so pristine."
The room was serene, filled with the faint scent of ink and polished wood. Akira watched Ayaka’s elegant strokes, the precision mesmerizing. But after barely ten minutes, an overwhelming dizziness gripped him. Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision, and before he could process more, he fainted, his consciousness slipping back into the void.
Day 2: A Glimpse Beyond
Akira awoke again, this time during the bustle of preparations for an upcoming festival. Ayaka was organizing details with several retainers, her composed demeanor unwavering despite the flurry of activity around her.
"So, I’m still here... but why?" Akira pondered. "This festival—it must be important. Look at her, commanding respect with just a few words."
For an hour, he observed her meticulous attention to detail: reviewing decorations, approving performances, and consulting on ceremonial procedures. Her grace was undeniable, but Akira’s fascination began to wane.
"Is this it? Just endless discussions and polite nods? I thought there’d be more excitement in power," he mused, growing restless. The sense of dizziness returned, more intense this time. Despite his struggle to remain aware, Akira fainted once again, his grip on consciousness slipping away.
Day 3: A Full Day in Her Life
The third day dawned, and Akira found himself still tethered to Ayaka’s consciousness. But something had changed—this time, he didn’t faint. He was fully present, able to witness an entire day unfold through her eyes.
Ayaka’s routine began before dawn. Akira experienced every detail: the ritualistic tea preparation, the graceful strokes of calligraphy, the rhythmic dance of sword training in the courtyard. His initial awe faded, replaced by a growing sense of monotony.
"Again with the tea. The same brush strokes, the same sword swings," Akira groaned internally. "Doesn’t she ever get tired of this?"
As the day progressed, Ayaka attended more meetings, managed festival preparations, and interacted with the citizens of Inazuma. Akira’s boredom grew, his mind craving something different.
"Hmm, perhaps I should change the style today. This pattern feels too rigid," Ayaka’s inner voice echoed faintly in his mind.
Akira froze. "Wait... I can hear her thoughts? This is new."
Throughout the day, her internal dialogue unfolded, revealing her hidden worries, private frustrations, and fleeting joys. During a particularly dull meeting, he heard her silent musings:
"I must remain diplomatic. But honestly, this proposal is terribly inefficient," she thought while nodding politely.
Akira’s curiosity turned into intrigue. Not only could he observe her life, but now he could hear the thoughts she kept hidden from the world. The monotony of her routines was contrasted by the vibrant complexity of her mind.
"Maybe this won’t be so dull after all," he thought
Day 4: The Influence
Akira awoke with anticipation. The day began as usual—tea, calligraphy, the calm precision of Ayaka’s daily rituals. But today, he decided to test the boundaries of his connection.
As Ayaka sat to write a formal piece on Inazuman history, Akira concentrated. "Wouldn’t it be more interesting if she wrote about ninjas instead?" he thought, focusing intensely.
Ayaka’s hand hesitated mid-stroke. Her brows furrowed slightly, and she paused, tapping the brush against the inkstone.
"History is important... but maybe something different would be refreshing. Ninjas, perhaps? Their strategies and legends are fascinating," she reasoned with herself, and to Akira’s amazement, she began scribbling about the covert techniques and legends of Inazuman ninjas.
Akira’s excitement surged. "It worked! I actually made her do that—or did she just decide it on her own?" His mind raced with possibilities.
Later in the day, as Ayaka contemplated her lunch options, Akira decided to push further. "Pick something different… something spicy," he urged mentally. Ayaka’s chopsticks hovered indecisively over her usual choice.
"I always go for the same light dishes. Perhaps something with more flavor today? Yes, a bit of spice might be invigorating," she thought, and chose a dish far spicier than her usual preference.
Akira chuckled to himself. "Not bad, not bad at all. I wonder how far this goes."
As the afternoon faded, Ayaka prepared for the upcoming festival. Akira watched, torn between curiosity and mischief.
"Should I make her go to the festival? Would it even matter? It’s just another event, right? But… what if I made her skip it? Just to see what happens…" he debated internally.
But then Ayaka paused, looking out over the festival preparations from her balcony.
"Do I truly need to attend? I’ve been so involved in every detail. Maybe skipping it wouldn’t hurt… but no, my presence is part of my duty. People expect to see me there, and I should honor that responsibility," she concluded, setting aside her brief hesitation.
Akira’s internal debate mirrored hers. His power was growing, but with it came questions about his influence. Was it harmless fun, or was he crossing a line?
As the evening settled in, Akira found no clear answer. For now, the choice remained unmade, lingering like the faint echo of his presence within Kamisato Ayaka.
Time to decide what Akira will try to do:
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