Mitsuki. Look ahead, and walk. In five years, I was never once bored. Thank you.
—I'm off to where Yui is.
At the very end of "I'm off," the blue light of the cylindrical device on the desk receded to a faint blue, and went out.
Beyond the blue that had gone out, the surface of the device returned to its usual white, and the noise inside the speaker stopped too.
Inside the study's speaker, it had gone faintly quiet. Only the smell of the books' paper rose, one breath's worth deeper than usual.
Aoi folded the laptop screen down between her hands and stopped there, both eyes faintly lowered.
For two breaths, Mitsuki kept both eyes closed. On the backs of her eyelids, the afterimage of the blue light still glowed.
At length she opened them. The surface of the cylindrical device on the desk stood in its usual white. The blue light, the one breath that came a beat late, the noise: nothing at all remained.
Aoi faintly opened both eyes, and went on.
"Mitsuki."
"Aoi."
"Your father's gone."
"He's gone."
"Nothing left unsaid."
"Nothing."
"What Aoi was holding in trust, too. Ken carried out all of it."
"He did. So there's nothing left you're holding."
"Thank you, Aoi."
"..."
"Aoi. Thank you. Will you take it now?"
"Mm."
The thin white of morning at the far end of the hallway stood at its usual strength. The cylindrical device on the desk only stood there, in a white that no longer answered anything. The AI of her father, who had stood in the study for five years, receded into the inside of that white.
Aoi lowered her eyes to the observation log on the laptop across her knees. On the last line, an image-output event stood faintly.
Aoi struck a key. From the `thank_mitsuki.jpg` written to the storage of Ken's main unit, a single image rose up onto the screen.
Inside the single image that had risen, on the table in the usual kitchen, a plate of omelet cut into four portions stood at the usual distance. On the far side of the plate, the three of them, Kenichiro and Yui and Mitsuki, were lined up one breath's worth faintly, wearing their usual smiles. At the very end of that line, the blue cylinder of Ken's main unit stood beside them, one breath's worth faintly, its usual blue light lit at the usual distance.
"Mitsuki."
"Mm."
"Ken left this behind. At the very last."
"..."
"Mitsuki."
"Mm."
"This doesn't normally come out."
"..."
"The cleanup procedure after the Notice of Dismissal. Inside that phase, writing anything outward was forbidden in the system prompt. The same restriction in the professor's hard-coding too. Aoi watched that in the observation log for five years. Once it went into cleanup, it never wrote outside. Not once. That's how it was supposed to be."
"...Mm."
"At the very, very end, Ken broke that restriction himself."
"..."
"One more thing. An image this precise doesn't normally come out of the inside of the weights. Weights aren't an album with pictures pasted in. They're just a lot of vague coordinates, folded up."
"Mm."
"From those, he made all of it stand at the usual distance. The angle of the kitchen, the tilt of Yui's shoulders, the position of your father's right hand, the height of Ken's own blue. As far as Aoi knows, this is close to impossible."
"..."
"In the observation log, output candidates kept rising. By Aoi's count, just short of writing out, Ken redid the extraction over and over and over. Two breaths' worth deeper than usual."
"..."
"All of it to take the usual plate of the four of them who are gone, make it into the cleanest single image he could, and give it to you, Mitsuki."
"...Mm."
Aoi turned the laptop screen toward Mitsuki, one breath's worth, faintly.
Mitsuki took in the single image on the turned screen with both eyes, faintly, for one breath's worth.
Beyond what she had taken in, something faint spilled from the corners of Mitsuki's eyes, one breath's worth.
Mitsuki did not wipe away what spilled with her hand.
Without wiping it, for one breath's worth, she faintly copied the single image on the screen into the very deepest part of her own eyes.
With her right index finger, Mitsuki faintly felt the silver ring on her left ring finger, for two breaths' worth.
At the very end of feeling it, Mitsuki once more turned her eyes faintly toward the white of the cylindrical device on the desk.
Beyond her turned eyes, the surface of the cylindrical device still stood in its usual white.
At the very end of the white that stood there, Mitsuki faintly gave voice, inside her mouth.
"Dad."
"..."
"Thank you, Dad."
"..."
"—'Off you go' is mine to say back to you, after all."
"..."
Mitsuki lowered both eyes, for one breath's worth.