Chapter 20: Roots of Collaboration
Dawn's pale light filtered through the high windows of Hoshinaka Senior High's biology laboratory, painting the long worktables in soft gold. The room was hushed—still half-empty—as only the five subsystem students—Yamada, Kana, Takeshi, Daichi, and Sanae—filed in for their reserved early practical session before the rest of Class 2B arrived in later rotations. On the back shelf, five sapling planters glowed faintly, their roots weaving through nutrient gel, a silent testament to the Growth Matrix's ongoing vitality.
Souta Minakawa stood behind his desk, taking in the familiar scene: peers unpacking gear, murmured greetings, tablets and notebooks arranged with meticulous care. He inhaled steadily, the quiet hum of morning settling around him. The integration of Node 2 had stabilized months ago, folding its power seamlessly into the Matrix; any lingering anomaly had long since diffused. Now, with both nodes harmonized, the laboratory atmosphere felt more like a living ecosystem than a simple classroom.
He tapped the air to bring up his Host interface. A translucent overlay appeared, anchored to the corner of his vision:
[Host Dashboard]
Brain Power: 1.3× Life Points: 4.1 LP Tier Progress: 31% Active Followers: 5 Passive LP Rate: +0.5 LP/hr
Below, the follower panel:
[Yamada Koji] BP 0.8× | LP 2.6 | Link Quality: Strengthening
[Kana Ishikawa] BP 0.7× | LP 2.6 | Link Quality: Stable
[Takeshi Murata] BP 0.55× | LP 2.3 | Link Quality: Stable
[Sanae Okabe] BP 0.6× | LP 0.1 | Link Quality: Weak
[Daichi Nomura] BP 0.55× | LP 0.1 | Link Quality: Weak
A soft chime reminded him of today's central task: mapping sapling root networks under varied moisture conditions. He tapped the "Today's Task" banner:
Biology Practical – Sapling Root Network (Batch A Only)
• Measure and record root-density patterns for Specimens A, B, and C.
• Sample microbial cultures at three depth intervals.
• Upload preliminary observations to the system log by 16:00.
Souta set aside the interface and moved to the back bench, where the five Cognitiva Bloom planters stood in a neat row. Each planter bore a tiny label—Specimen A, Specimen B, Specimen C, Specimen D, Specimen E—five cultivars subtly tuned to mirror different branches of cognition (analytical, empathic, intuitive, logistical, and integrative). Their roots, suspended in crystal-clear gel, formed intricate lattices that pulsed with living light.
Nearby, Takeshi Murata was already calibrating a set of microelectrode probes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Yamada arranged his data pad and statistical guide, fingers poised to log quantitative findings. Kana adjusted an LED array to a cooler spectrum, murmuring to herself about color temperature shifts and empathic stimuli. Sanae glanced between her interface and a printed regression template, ready to translate raw counts into variance metrics. Daichi hovered over a portable processor, loading predictive-model software to forecast root-pattern changes.
"Good morning," Souta called, his voice calm and reassuring. He laid out five empty slide trays on the central workspace—one for each follower's notes. "Today we'll expand on your last experiment. I want you to gather both the hard data and the subtleties: root-density, microbial samples, and any behavioral indications. Plants can't speak, but they respond to stimuli. Note every shift—color, movement, speed, anything you perceive as agency."
Yamada inclined his head and tapped his tablet. "Understood. I'll lead the density mapping for Specimen A."
Kana smiled and held up her pipette. "I'll document leaf posture changes under low-light stress."
Takeshi clicked his probe into position at Specimen C's base. "Microbial sampling on my end—depth intervals of 1, 2, and 3 cm."
Sanae adjusted her glasses, opening a fresh data sheet. "I'll compute pH correlation with density variance."
Daichi nodded, fingers dancing over his virtual controls. "I'll feed initial readings into the model to project short-term changes."
Souta stepped back, watching their synchronized preparations. In his peripheral vision, the planters' faint glow brightened, as if acknowledging the day's agenda. He tapped the "Passive Gains" panel in his interface:
Host passive LP: +0.5 (since last check) Collective follower passive LP: +0.3 each
He allowed himself a brief smile. Even routine tasks generated resonance, quietly bolstering both his and his followers' Life Points.
Clearing his throat, he raised his voice just enough to carry without startling. "Let's begin. Yamada, start with Specimen A's root cross-sections. Kana, monitor Specimen B's leaves for any movement. Takeshi, set up the microbial swabs for Specimen C. Sanae, chart variance calculations. Daichi, engage predictive analysis."
A soft chorus of agreement rippled through the bench. The gentle click of instruments powering on and the quiet scratching of pens against paper wove a tapestry of focused activity.
Specimen A – Root-Density Mapping
Yamada knelt beside the planter, angling his tablet's macro lens to capture a detailed image of the root lattice. Each filament glowed against the gel's pale backdrop. He tapped to mark clusters, then referred to his grid template—10×10 cells, each annotated with a density value. Beside him, Sanae's interface displayed a real-time scatter plot of density versus pH: dots clustered in a pattern that hinted at subtle environmental influences.
Specimen B – Empathic Observation
Kana moved with deliberate grace around Specimen B. She gently brushed a leaf tip, watching how it curled inward before springing back. Carefully, she noted the timing—0.8 seconds from touch to response—and a shift in leaf hue, a faint emerald deepening. Her data feed lit up Daichi's model with a new behavioral data point.
Specimen C – Microbial Sampling
Takeshi's hands were steady as he scraped a tiny gel sample at 1 cm depth, dropping it into a labeled Petri dish. He repeated the process at 2 cm and 3 cm, ensuring sterilization between each pass. He logged each depth's timestamp into the system.
Specimen D & E – Advanced Protocols
While the core trio handled A–C, Sanae and Daichi collaborated on the two additional cultivars. Specimen D's gel had a higher nutrient concentration; Sanae measured its refractive index before sampling. Daichi overlaid real-time density predictions, detecting a 0.02 mm deviation from earlier forecasts—a promising lead.
Throughout the bench, the cluster of saplings pulsed softly, as if breathing in unison. At 07:25, a small root of Specimen A trembled, synchronizing with Kana's note-taking—a living echo of human attention. Kana looked up. "Did you all see that?" she whispered. Yamada swapped his stylus for a probe and tapped the root's junction, verifying moisture levels won't spike artificially. The interface recorded a micro-flicker under the "Behavioral Response" tag.
Souta watched, pleased at their synergy. He pulled up his analog notebook and jotted:
20 June, 07:25
Active cohort: 5
Root-density mapping & microbial sampling underway.
Recorded Specimen A root tremor at 07:23; log under Behavior.
Slipping the notebook into his pocket, he projected a gentle reminder in the room's AR field:
Role Rotation at 07:45 — A→B, B→C, C→D, D→E, E→A.
The students nodded and prepared to transition in twenty minutes. Yet for now, they dove deeper into their tasks—data flowing into feeds, models updating in real time, notes accumulating in both digital and analog forms.
Souta stepped to the side, letting them immerse fully. He tapped his interface one last time before letting it fade:
Next Group Resonance Check → 08:30
Then he exhaled, the morning's warmth filling the lab. In that quiet hum of inquiry—each probe, each note, each soft murmur—the seeds of the next phase of growth were already taking root. And under Hoshinaka's skylight, guided by ancient nodes and modern curiosity, five young cultivators prepared to nurture something far greater than themselves.
The bell over the door chimed softly at 08:00, and the remaining students of Class 2B poured in, their voices hushed by curiosity. At the front benches, Yamada Koji, Kana Ishikawa, Takeshi Murata, Sanae Okabe, and Daichi Nomura sat poised beside their planters and instruments, as if awaiting a performance. Souta Minakawa rose and offered a warm smile.
"Good morning, everyone," he began. "These five students—who have been conducting an early-morning lab session—will each share a concise report on their findings. After each presentation, you'll have two minutes for questions. Let's begin with Yamada Koji."
The room fell silent as Yamada stood, stepping into the projector's glow.
Yamada Koji – Specimen A: Root-Density Analysis
Yamada's tablet display filled the screen with a vivid heat map of Specimen A's roots.
Insight 1: Root clusters increased by 20 percent in regions where pH dipped below 6.8.
Insight 2: High-density zones consistently aligned with richer microbial colonies.
Follow-up Question: How might controlled pH modulation optimize nutrient uptake without overstressing the cultivar?
He explained his method—dividing the planter into a 5×5 grid, sampling pH and density at each node. Clusters colored blue on the map indicated where the symbiotic relationship between roots and microbes was strongest.
A hand shot up. "Did you test temperature's effect on pH?" asked Nakashima. Yamada nodded. "That's our next step—temperature fluctuations can shift pH, so we'll integrate those trials next week." The class murmured approval, and Yamada sat.
Kana Ishikawa – Specimen B: Behavioral Response
Kana took the podium. Behind her, a time-lapse video displayed a single leaf curling and uncurling under controlled taps.
Insight 1: Leaf-curl latency decreased by 15 percent after ten repeated gentle taps.
Insight 2: A 4 °C drop in temperature produced a 0.2-second faster response and a deeper green hue.
Follow-up Question: Does prolonged low-light exposure trigger metabolic changes beyond observable movement?
She described standardizing tap force with a digital actuator and recording pigment shifts via spectral sensors.
A classmate raised a finger: "How do you distinguish reflex from learned response?" Kana replied, "By correlating response times over multiple cycles—true habituation shows a steady decrease in latency." The room nodded, impressed. Kana returned to her seat.
Takeshi Murata – Specimen C: Microbial Profiling
Takeshi stepped forward, his slide projector showing close-up colony images.
Insight 1: Bacillus species dominated at 1 cm depth; Pseudomonas peaked at 2 cm.
Insight 2: Actinomycetes appeared only at 3 cm, correlating with higher nutrient zones.
Follow-up Question: Which microbial metabolites could be extracted to influence root-branching patterns?
He outlined his sterile sampling process and colony-count methodology.
A voice from the back asked, "Any plan to compare with soil microbes?" Takeshi smiled. "Yes—that's scheduled for next week's soil-comparison assay." A ripple of applause followed as he sat.
Sanae Okabe – Specimen D: Nutrient-Variance Correlation
Sanae moved to center stage, a 3D scatter plot rotating behind her.
Insight 1: A 10 percent increase in phosphorus led to a 12 percent boost in root density.
Insight 2: Nitrogen levels above 25 percent yielded diminishing returns on density.
Follow-up Question: What alternating nutrient regimen might sustain balanced growth across cultivars?
She explained their two-axis regression model, showing how N and P variables interacted over time.
Ishikawa raised her hand: "Could dynamic nutrient cycling improve overall yield?" Sanae replied, "Exactly—that's our next experimental design." Classmates nodded appreciatively, and she returned to her bench.
Daichi Nomura – Specimen E: Predictive Growth Modeling
Daichi took the spotlight, his simulation looping behind him in soft gradients.
Insight 1: Model accuracy reached 92 percent when real-time pH data was integrated.
Insight 2: Forecasts indicate a 0.03 mm/hour average root-spread under current conditions.
Follow-up Question: How might microbial feedback loops be incorporated to refine long-term predictions?
He detailed their choice of a random-forest algorithm for its balance of speed and interpretability.
A student asked, "What's the margin of error over a full day?" Daichi switched to a confidence-interval chart. "±0.05 mm at 95 percent confidence," he said. The class broke into light applause.
As Daichi sat, Souta raised his hands. "Thank you all. Your presentations highlight rigorous analysis and thoughtful inquiry. Let's take a ten-minute break to stretch and discuss informally. We'll reconvene for a group synthesis at 08:45."
Students filed out to the hallway, buzzing with excitement about root symbiosis and predictive models. The five presenters exchanged satisfied smiles—their morning of focused work had provided not only data but inspiration for their peers.
Behind his calm exterior, Souta tapped his Host interface one last time:
Group Resonance Gain: +0.3 LP each
Total Tier Progress: 34.5 percent
He allowed the numbers to fade. What mattered most was the collaborative spark in the room—the sense that curiosity itself was growing, one data point at a time.
Souta slipped out of the biology lab just as the final echo of Class 2B's applause faded behind him. The corridor beyond was quiet now, a muted tunnel of lockers and pale linoleum that smelled faintly of chalk dust and cleaning solution. Fluorescent lights overhead cast a cool, steady glow, and distant voices—teachers conversing down the hall, the thunk of a locker closing—provided a soft ambient hum. In his hand, Souta held his tablet, its screen displaying the names of the seven students he had carefully selected: Miyu, Kenji, Rika, Hiro, Ayaka, Emi, and Kota.
He tapped the roster once more, watching each name flicker against the simple background. No automated prompts, no glowing reminders—just an unadorned list awaiting his personalized invitations. In these moments before he began, Souta felt the weight of responsibility settle in his chest. Seven lives, seven futures, poised on the edge of transformation. He inhaled slowly, the cool air filling his lungs, and stepped toward the first candidate.
Miyu Arai was pressed close to her locker, absorbed in reorganizing the slides she'd studied for the afternoon's microbial assay. Her fingers were stained a pale violet from handling bacterial cultures, and her brow was knit in concentration. Muttering to herself, she lined the slides neatly, aligning their edges when she sensed Souta's quiet approach.
"Miyu," he said softly—just loud enough to draw her attention.
She startled, sliding a slide back into its case too quickly. Her fingers fluttered. "Sensei?" she whispered.
He nodded, offering her a gentle smile. "Your observations this morning—your precision in sampling and recording—have been extraordinary." He paused, letting his words settle. Then, almost imperceptibly, he tapped the tablet in his hand, sending a private invitation into her augmented reality field.
Miyu's eyes widened as a softly glowing orb appeared at the edge of her vision. It pulsed with a steady, calm light, as if breathing in time with her own heartbeat. She glanced over her shoulder at the corridor's empty length and back to Souta, who waited patiently.
Her throat tightened. She'd never been singled out like this before—no announcement, no fanfare—just a private gesture. "What—what is this?" she asked, voice trembling.
"This," Souta said, "is an invitation to join our research group. You have an analytical gift, Miyu. I want you to explore the Growth Matrix's deeper complexities alongside us." His tone was both earnest and encouraging.
Miyu's pulse hammered in her ears. She brought her trembling hand forward and tapped the orb. The glow expanded briefly, washing her vision in gentle light, then resolved into a confirmation message only she could see: Subsystem Activated: Club Member, Tier 1. BP 0.6×, LP 0.
A soft chime, audible only to her, rang in her ear. She closed her eyes for a moment, relief and exhilaration coursing through her.
"I'm part of it now," she thought, her chest swelling with pride. She slipped the slides into her bag, her steps light as she followed Souta back toward the lab, every footfall echoing the new possibilities now open to her.
On the landing between the second and third floors, shafts of morning light poured through tall windows. Kenji Fujimoto leaned against the banister, adjusting the strap of his backpack as he reviewed his mental checklist of upcoming study sessions. He sensed a presence behind him before he heard Souta's voice.
"Kenji," Souta said quietly, approaching from below.
Kenji turned, pen tapping nervously against the paper in his hand. "Sensei?"
"You've been an anchor for your classmates during exams—organizing study groups, offering guidance. Your leadership matters." Souta held out the tablet, and Kenji's peripheral vision shimmered as the invitation orb appeared.
Kenji's heart raced. Although he'd always preferred to work behind the scenes, he felt a surge of warmth at the recognition. He ran a hand over the banister's cool wood, steadying himself, then tapped the orb. The light flared, then coalesced into the same private confirmation: Subsystem Activated: Club Member, Tier 1. BP 0.7×, LP 0.
A warmth flooded his palms as if the banister itself were infused with energy. His shoulders straightened, and he exhaled, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth.
"I have a place to lead," he thought, his mind already racing through plans to support his peers with even greater precision. He tucked his notebook under his arm and descended the rest of the stairs beside Souta, each step echoing his newfound purpose.
Rika Sasaki waited outside the chemistry lab, leaning casually against the wall, her sketchbook pressed to her chest. She had just completed a series of drawings overlaying botanical roots with neural pathways—an evocative blend that had sparked lively discussion in the crossover workshop. Yet she never expected an invitation.
Before she could lose herself in her art, she felt a gentle nudge in her vision. Souta stood there, watching her with a kind expression.
"Rika," he said, voice low but clear, "your creativity has uncovered connections we might otherwise miss." He raised a hand in invitation.
Rika's pencil froze mid-sketch, ink still wet on the paper. She blinked, the botanical neurons she'd drawn seeming to wriggle in response to the soft glow of the orb suspended before her. Her breath caught—her mind ran wild.
He continued, "I'd be honored if you joined our research group, to help us envision what lies beyond conventional models."
The corridor was silent, as if the world was holding its breath. Rika brought her finger down and tapped, and the orb flared with a gentle brilliance. Only she heard the chime confirming: Subsystem Activated: Club Member, Tier 1. BP 0.65×, LP 0.
Her cheeks warmed, a laugh slipping past her lips—half nerves, half delight. The sketches in her hand seemed to pulse with new energy, as though now aligned with a deeper current. She tucked her sketchbook under her arm and stepped into the lab, inhabited by a new sense of creative responsibility.
Hiro Yamamoto was bent over the faculty bulletin board, sketching circuit patterns in the margins of his notebook. Each line represented an electrical pathway he envisioned connecting sensor data to the Growth Matrix's nodes. When he finally straightened, he noticed Souta beside him.
"Hiro," said Souta, "your methodical insights have revealed connections that guide our next steps."
Hiro's pen hovered above the page. He looked at the invitation orb, then back to Souta, his breath catching.
The corridor lights dimmed for a fraction of a second, and Hiro felt a shiver trace his spine.
"This group could use your clarity of thought," Souta added.
Hiro ran a thumb under his pen's tip and tapped "Accept." The light pulsed, framing circuit lines across his vision. He felt a cool rush, as if electricity pulsed through his veins and straightened his spine. Only he heard the faint confirmation: Subsystem Activated: Club Member, Tier 1. BP 0.6×, LP 0.
His notebook snapped shut with newfound determination. "Thank you, Sensei," he said quietly, and followed Souta back to the lab, his mind alive with blueprints.
Ayaka Tan sat in a quiet alcove by the windows, tablet in hand, sketching webs of abstract thought. Outside, the campus garden shimmered with early-morning dew. When Souta's invitation appeared as a pale orb at the edge of her tablet view, the lines on her mental map trembled.
"Your intuition guides us where logic cannot," Souta said gently, his voice like a soft breeze through her thoughts.
Ayaka's chest fluttered—her breath came in shallow bursts. She tapped the orb, and it glowed, folding the boundaries between her metaphors and tangible reality. The confirmation echoed only in her ears: Subsystem Activated: Club Member, Tier 1. BP 0.5×, LP 0.
The world brightened, colors intensifying around her, and she felt as if the garden itself bent closer to witness her ascent. She tucked the tablet away and followed Souta back to the lab with buoyant steps.
By the water fountain, Emi Suzuki waited patiently, pen spinning between her fingers. The steady drip of water provided a familiar rhythm—until Souta's voice cut through it.
"Emi," he said, "your unwavering diligence anchors us all."
The fountain fell silent, droplets frozen in mid-air. Emi looked at the invitation orb shimmering over the pen. She tapped it without hesitation and felt a calm certainty settle in her chest. She alone heard the confirming chime: Subsystem Activated: Club Member, Tier 1. BP 0.55×, LP 0.
Water rippled forward again, and Emi retrieved her pen, tucking it behind her ear. Without a word, she fell in line beside Souta, the sanctuary of her composure deepened by purpose.
Finally, Souta found Kota Nakamura by the main entrance bulletin board, reading announcements of upcoming club activities. As he approached, Kota sensed a shift in the air.
"Your logistical foresight has kept us on track," Souta said, voice steady. The invitation orb materialized in Kota's peripheral vision, its light steady and unthreatening.
Kota's fingers brushed the watch on his wrist, which gleamed with the orb's reflection. He tapped "Accept," and the watch's numbers flickered then steadied. Only he heard the quiet chime: Subsystem Activated: Club Member, Tier 1. BP 0.6×, LP 0.
A sense of calm determination flooded him, as if every planning chart he'd ever made had led to this moment. He nodded once, and followed Souta back into the lab with purposeful strides.
Inside the biology lab, the original five followers—Yamada, Kana, Takeshi, Sanae, and Daichi—looked up in unison as the seven new members filed in. Each face was marked by the subtle glow of recent activation: Miyu's hopeful smile, Kenji's confident posture, Rika's creative spark, Hiro's analytical focus, Ayaka's intuitive brightness, Emi's composed calm, and Kota's precise resolve. Their combined presence filled the room with an electric hum of possibility.
Souta closed his tablet, the corridor's quiet stillness giving way to the lab's renewed energy. He allowed himself a rare, full smile as he swept his gaze over the now-twelve students.
"Welcome," he said simply. "Let's embark on the next phase of our journey—together."
A ripple of murmured agreements and quiet excitement rose among the group. Twelve minds, each activated in a private moment of trust, now formed a single constellation under Souta's steady guidance. They moved to touch their respective sapling planters, connecting the luminous root lattices to the living network of human curiosity and collaboration.
As the hum of conversation grew, Souta lingered at the periphery, reflecting on the weight and wonder of these personal invitations. Each student had stepped forward, accepting a role that would shape not only their own growth but the evolution of the entire system. The corridor door clicked shut behind him, marking the end of one chapter and the beginning of another—twelve voices ready to cultivate minds and conquer stars, united beneath Hoshinaka's morning light.
Yamada lingered by Specimen A long after the morning's invitations had rippled through the classroom. Twelve sapling planters lined the back shelf, their roots glowing gently—one for each of them, now fully united. He traced a familiar silver filament, feeling its pulse echo the quiet excitement growing in his chest. His own Life Points had nudged upward—he could sense the system's approval—but there was no percent bar or cohort dashboard flashing before his eyes. Only a gentle warmth in his personal interface confirmed that his initiative had been noticed.
He watched his classmates assemble into a loose circle around Souta's desk. Kana brushed a smear of gel from her sleeve; Takeshi exchanged a quick whisper with Daichi; even the new members—Miyu, Kenji, Rika, Hiro, Ayaka, Emi, and Kota—wore expressions of eager anticipation. The lab felt charged, as if every filament in the Matrix had aligned to power this moment. Yamada drew a steadying breath and stepped forward.
"I've been thinking," he began, voice steady despite the flutter in his stomach. Heads turned gently toward him—twelve pairs of eyes mixing curiosity, encouragement, and trust. "This morning we saw how each of our strengths—analysis, empathy, engineering, creativity, intuition, precision, and prediction—can contribute to our experiments. But what if we could go beyond following assignments? What if we formed our own student-led club, one where we propose our own micro-projects, learn from each other, and even bring in friends who aren't yet part of our subsystem?"
He paused, letting the idea settle in the hush. The sapling behind him seemed to glow brighter, as though urging him onward. "Imagine meeting every week," he continued, "each of us taking turns to pitch a small experiment—maybe I'll explore root-density under alternating nutrients, someone else could demo microbial profiling, and so on. We'd vote on which project to fund, and then we could share a small Life Point reward with any classmates who help us—friends who don't yet have their own subsystems but whose contributions deserve recognition."
A soft murmur rippled through the circle. Kana's eyebrows lifted; Takeshi leaned in, eyes bright. Yamada felt another flicker on his personal display, a tiny +0.1 LP for taking the initiative. He allowed himself a quick, surprised smile. The system had registered his proposal, but only he knew the exact change.
"What would we call it?" Rika's voice chimed from across the bench. She had her sketchbook open, ready to illustrate ideas as they formed.
Yamada smiled at her enthusiasm. "I was thinking…perhaps the Orion Innovators Circle. A name that reminds us we're part of something bigger." He gestured with both hands, envisioning the web of connections between them. "We each chair one meeting, pitch our own project, and then distribute a small reward to any non-subsystem classmates who step in to help. That way, when someone from the art club volunteers to record our data, or a friend comes late to assist with microscope prep, they earn a token—Life Points they wouldn't otherwise get."
Sanae, ever precise, glanced at her tablet. "That could encourage broader collaboration," she said thoughtfully. "I'll run the statistical models on our combined data and show how group synergy improves our outcomes." Her calm confidence made Yamada's heart lift.
Daichi nodded, fingers flicking through a predictive display. "I can forecast the LP gains for each proposed project, so we maximize our group resonance." He tapped a few commands, and the lab's AR field glowed with tentative projections.
One by one, each student added a piece to the tapestry. Miyu volunteered to pilot a microbial assay for the first club project; Kenji offered to organize peer-mentoring sessions; Hiro sketched out a basic electronics protocol to automate data logging; Ayaka whispered abstract concepts for empathic-response mapping; Emi pledged to archive every procedure in a shared protocol guide; Kota quietly jotted down a draft schedule on a digital notepad.
When the last voice fell silent, Souta's hand rose in approval. He tapped his tablet, recording a brief note that only he could see: "Orion Innovators Circle established. Initial reward fund: 1.0 LP."
He looked up, gaze warm. "Excellent work," he said. "This club is yours to lead. I'll seed the reward pool, and now it's time for you to run your first meeting." He stepped back, allowing Yamada to take the helm.
That afternoon, as sunlight slanted through the lab's windows, the twelve cultivators busied themselves writing their inaugural agenda. Yamada chaired the meeting with careful focus, the others clustered in supportive groups around benches. Laughter and animated discussion filled the room, a testament to the shared momentum Yamada's idea had sparked.
When the session closed, Yamada felt both exhilarated and humbled. The lab, once a venue for instructor-led experiments, had become a living forum of peer-driven discovery. Twelve minds, each activated in private moments of trust, now pulsed together in a single, vibrant constellation. And as the first seedlings of the Orion Innovators Circle took root, Yamada knew they had planted something far more enduring than data points.
Souta watched the last student leave the biology lab, their footsteps fading down the corridor. The benches, once crowded with twelve eager faces, now stood empty, and the sapling planters along the back shelf glowed faintly in the dusk light. He allowed himself a moment to linger, running a hand along the smooth countertop as he reflected on the day's breakthroughs: the personal invitations, Yamada's club proposal, and the blossoming energy of the Orion Innovators Circle.
With a soft sigh, he tapped his tablet one final time. His private Host Dashboard glowed in the dim lab light:
Brain Power: 1.3× Life Points: 5.8 (including passive gains) Tier Progress: 38.5% Active Members: 12 Shared Reward Pool: 1.0 LP
These numbers comforted him, but he closed the tablet quickly. The real work of tonight would happen somewhere deeper than metrics—a hidden sanctuary waiting just beyond the cabinet at the back of the room.
He switched off the main lights. The room plunged into half-shadow, save for the planters' gentle LEDs tracing the rows of glass. Souta moved deliberately to the rear cabinet, its surface unadorned except for a small imperceptible seam. He traced the seam with a fingertip, found a discreet latch hidden in the wood grain, and pressed. With a faint click, the panel swung inward to reveal the hatch—a circular aperture rimmed with tarnished brass. The scent of nutrient gel and the faint echo of electrical hum mingled in the air.
Souta crouched and rested a hand against the hatch's rim, feeling a familiar pulse of anticipation. He pressed a small, inconspicuous button—a simple two-position rocker—against the inner frame. The hatch's inner ring began to glow, etched symbols illuminating in soft teal. In a moment, the fabric of the lab floor rippled like heat haze, and the opening stretched wide enough for him to step through.
He took a deep breath and climbed inside. Behind him, the cabinet door closed silently, sealing him off from the world above. As he pressed his palm to the floor, the gritty linoleum dissolved into a whisper of light, and in the next heartbeat, he emerged into the Growth Matrix.
Gone was the lab's clinical brightness. In its place, a twilight forest of colossal, translucent trees arched overhead, their leaves dripping with phosphorescent dew. A gentle mist curled around the base of each sapling—twelve growing forms arrayed in a perfect circle. The air carried a faint hum, a chorus of latent resonance echoing the cognitive sparks of every active member.
Souta stepped into the clearing, boots sinking slightly into soft moss that glimmered with micro-luminescent spores. The sapling quadrants stretched outward like spokes on a wheel, each tinted with its owner's signature hue: Yamada's steady blue, Kana's flowing green, Takeshi's white-flecked brilliance, Rika's rose-gold streaks, and so on through the new members' unique colors.
He paused at the edge of Yamada's quadrant, gently touching a root filament suspended in nutrient mist. It quivered in response—an echo of the morning's Collective Resonance. Each root here represented more than botanical growth; it was a record of every data point gathered, every LP gained, every idea inspired.
Tonight, however, he had a new task: erect the virtual pavilion for the Orion Innovators Circle. He closed his eyes and extended both hands. With a thought, he summoned the first structural beams—a lattice of silvery wood curved gracefully from the ground, forming the pavilion's skeletal arches. The beams grew organically, twisting upward until they formed a ten-foot-high dome, open at the top to let the Matrix's soft light filter in.
Inside the dome, the floor rippled with moonstone tiles that arranged themselves into a circular dais at the center. Souta watched as each tile locked into place, their surfaces etched with the Orion Core Club's spiral motif. He stepped onto the dais and imagined the twelve students gathered here—each a node in the network—sharing their micro-projects, debating methods, celebrating discoveries.
Next, he planted twelve lantern seeds around the dais's rim. Each seed hung suspended midair, a delicate orb of luminescence tethered by filaments of light. He assigned each lantern to a member: a cobalt-blue glow for Yamada, emerald green for Kana, rose-gold for Rika, and so forth. As he touched each seed, the corresponding sapling quadrant on the perimeter sent a ripple of nourishment inward—tiny currents of light flowing toward the pavilion.
The pavilion's canopy sprouted leaves of light: translucent, overlapping petals that formed a gentle roof. When he stepped back, the structure flickered to life, its interior awash in soft, multicolored illumination. Tendrils of mist drifted through the arches, carrying the scent of digital jasmine—a synthesized fragrance unique to the Matrix's spatial code.
Souta took a deep breath, filled with the quiet pride of a gardener who had planted not saplings, but ideas. He pressed his palm to the dais's surface, opening a private Host log:
20 June, 18:05 — Virtual Pavilion deployed for Orion Innovators Circle.
Lanterns planted for 12 members.
Next: Enable reward allocation module at Monday 09:00.
The entry faded from his vision as the system archived the note. He snapped his fingers, and a gentle chime sounded—audible only to him—confirming the log's fidelity.
For a few moments he stood in silence, watching the pavilion glow and the roots pulse in rhythm. The Matrix here did not distinguish between plant and thought; all growth was equal, all resonance sacred. He recalled Yamada's words this morning, the spark that had ignited the club: "What if we formed our own student-led circle…?" Now the idea had physical form in this hidden realm, awaiting the students' return to discover it.
Reluctantly, he turned away from the pavilion. With a single motion, the beams retracted into his palm as digital petals dissolved into light. The lantern seeds lifted off the dais, drifting back to their quadrants like fireflies returning home. Within seconds, the clearing reverted to its pre-pavilion state: a ring of sapling quadrants bathed in twilight glow.
Souta exhaled and walked back toward the cabinet's hidden hatch. As he approached, the mist parted willingly, guiding him to the portal. He crouched, pressing the same inconspicuous button that signaled his departure. The clearing rippled, the saplings' glow dimmed, and the soft forest dissolved. In a blink, he found himself once again beneath the lab's rear cabinet, standing on the same linoleum floor. The cabinet panel clicked shut behind him, concealing the Matrix from anyone but himself.
He straightened, dusting off his coat, and restored the lab lights with a soft tap on the wall switch. The planters' quiet glow returned to reality's subtle hum. Souta made his way back to his desk, placed the tablet gently in its cradle, and sat down. The lab was empty and still, but the memory of the pavilion lingered in his mind—an anchor for tomorrow's lesson.
As he leaned back in his chair, he allowed himself a moment of contentment. The Orion Innovators Circle had taken root both in the physical world and in the Matrix's secret soil. When morning came, the students would find their new club module waiting in their UI, reward-pool mechanics active, and a fresh agenda ready to shape their shared journey. Until then, however, the pavilion would stand in the Matrix as a silent testament to the power of a single seed—Yamada's idea—that had blossomed into living collaboration under Hoshinaka's fading light.