Cote: The Unseen Ties

The Girl Who Walked on the Edge

Elder Horikita did kept his promise, ensuring that no one else was around at the time of their meeting.

"I have something to confirm… and I want you to answer me—as a parting gift," he said. It sounded like a request, but the weight in his voice made it a demand.

Perhaps it was his own greed—his restless need to know more about the man who, made him feel lesser.

He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that no one was better than him. But he had never imagined he’d face a wall—no, a force of talent so vast, so effortlessly consuming, that it outshone him without even trying.

After a brief moment of consideration, Ayanokoji nodded slowly. He had already concluded that this would likely be the last time he'd speak with Elder Horikita, and so, answering his question didn't feel burdensome.

"It's fine if you can't answer this fully," Elder eye's narrowed as he continue esteadily yet probing and after paused he questioned "Why do you hide your abilities?"

Though the question was direct, it wasn't something he didn't expect "I simply don't want to attract attention." he replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Even if you truly want to conceal your true self, is this something you can stick by?"

Ayanokoji paused briefly. It wasn’t doubt, nor a reconsideration of his actions, that held him still—but a quiet, lingering uncertainty within himself. Something unspoken, undefined, yet undeniably present.

"How do I put this… um… I haven’t thought that far ahead," he admitted, choosing honesty over pretense. Then, with a faint breath, he added, "I decided to live the life of an ordinary high school student—someone you'd pass by without a second glance."

"Do you plan to continue this in the future?"

“It’s hard to say,” Ayanokoji replied, his tone unusually candid. “Lately, more things have been catching my attention. I don’t have to take most of them seriously, but… it’s still more than before.”
Perhaps he was being too honest—and he knew it. Yet, in that moment, he chose not to hold back.

"Do you think this path has a any meaning, even to yourself?"

His response came swiftly, laced with the quiet simplicity that had always defined him.
“If you look at it from my perspective—just wanting to live a comfortable life—I’d say that has meaning.”

He didn’t brush it off as some grand ambition, the kind of thinking often tied to people desperate to carve their names into the world just to convince themselves their life meant something.

To him, he couldn’t relate to that hunger. That ache to be remembered held no charm for him, he saw the quiet pursuit of comfort as a meaning in itself.

The idea of legacy felt like chasing shadows—an illusion stitched together by ego and fear. Why seek eternity in the minds of strangers, when life, in all its fragile beauty, exists only in the now?

"Maybe so," the Elder said thoughtfully. "But don't you want to leave something behind while you're at this school? If that's the case, then the question remains: 'Do you really think that continuing like this will have any meaning in the future?' It's something worth reflecting on."

"Leave something behind... that's only something someone as notable as you can do," he replied, dismissing it with a quiet certainty.

Maybe someone like Horikita would find purpose in striving, in rising to the top. And maybe he should. But him—his strength didn’t lie in ambition.

He wasn’t closed off—he simply saw the world from a different angle. Not lesser, just quieter. Not hopeless, but grounded. He didn’t reject meaning; he just chose to seek it in the spaces others overlooked.