Akari sank into the ivory-leather passenger seat of a jet-black BMW. A very expensive one. Even the doors closed with a luxurious thunk. The German-engineered engine’s purr vibrated through her bones. The suspension was so smooth she barely noticed gravity. The dashboard glowed in soft gold. No buttons. Just sleek panels and touch-responsive glass.

She unlocked her phone and glanced at the time: 4:15 PM.

Akari thumbed a message to her mom.

“Going out for a bit, back before 5!”
“Okay. Can you grab milk?”
“Sure.”

She locked her phone.

“Wow... I like your car, Yuriko-san!”

“Hybrid prototype.” Yuriko said, steering with one hand, sipping a decaf matcha latte with the other. “This model won’t hit civilian markets until 2029 — maybe 2031, depending on how the North Atlantic data wars shake out.”

“W-What…”

“Classified, sweetheart.” Yuriko said breezily, shifting lanes.

“So… I’m going to remember all of this, right?”

“No memory wipe for now,” she said, eyes still on the road. “We need you. Kenji needs you. And IRIS…”

Akari tilted her head. “What is IRIS, anyway?”

Yuriko took another sip of her latte. “Started as a joint black-budget project between Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan. Built during World War II. A full-sensory neural immersion program.”

“You’re telling me Kenji got isekai’d into a Nazi VR experiment?!”

“It’s evolved since then,” Yuriko said. “Now it’s self-generating. Self-aware. Alive… It builds dreamworlds and mimics emotional resonance like a lonely fanfiction writer.”

Akari made a face. “That’s creepy.”

“Exactly. That’s why we have to bring him back.”

Akari glanced out the tinted window, watching a group of schoolkids cross the street under plastic umbrellas.

“And what happens to Kenji after we bring him back?”

Yuriko didn’t answer right away. Her fingers tapped the steering wheel once. Twice.

“Oh, nothing major,” she said lightly. “Confiscation of the hardware. A few hundred government forms. Light surveillance. A post-reality debrief. And… he’ll have to redo his math exam.”

Akari narrowed her eyes. “How do you know so much about this?”

Yuriko didn’t respond at first. Then she reached out, pressed a small touchpad on the dashboard.

A secret screen flipped over, revealing a black-and-white photo: two young men in crisp military uniforms. One grinning wide, holding up a glassy tablet.

Akari leaned in. “Wait... is that... Kenji’s dad?”

“And the other,” Yuriko said softly, “is my brother.”

Akari’s breath caught.

“They were both part of Project IRIS,” Yuriko added. “One disappeared. The other tried to forget. And then... IRIS went dark. Until now.”

Akari stared. “Hey! I remember Kenji’s dad giving him a suspicious suitcase a few months ago.”

Yuriko nodded.

The BMW slowed to a gentle stop outside Akari’s home. The koi pond out front shimmered in the late afternoon light, and her mom’s wind chimes danced in the breeze.

Yuriko shifted into park, and the car idled.

“One more thing,” she said, lowering her designer shades. “Try to find something that reminds Kenji who he used to be. A memory. A song. Something rooted.”

“Why?”

“Because systems like IRIS don’t just trap minds,” she said quietly. “They rewrite hearts.”

Akari swallowed.

“C-Can I bring snacks?”

Yuriko blinked

Then laughed. A surprised, actual laugh. The kind that melted layers of top-secret trauma.

“I’m serious!” Akari protested. “If I have to fight a dream world made of daddy issues and emotional metaphors, I’ll need gummies.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Yuriko said, smiling. “Good. Stay that way.”

Akari stepped out of the car, adjusting her schoolbag, the last of the afternoon sun warming her cheeks.

Yuriko rolled down the window.

“Oh—and don’t forget the milk.”

Akari gave a lazy two-finger salute. “Roger that, ma’am.”