They did not run.
That was the first change.
After the shrine, after leaving Kenta behind with a wound that could not be healed without becoming something worse, Hiroto slowed. Not from exhaustion but from decision.
He stopped trying to outrun the world's response.
He decided to let it watch him walk.
They traveled openly.
No hiding their trail. No avoiding settlements. When roads forked, Hiroto chose the most visible route.
Goro noticed immediately. "You're inviting trouble."
"Yes," Hiroto said. "But not the kind that attacks."
Masanori frowned. "You're making yourself legible."
Hiroto nodded. "And so are they."
They stopped at a market town near the river busy, ordinary, alive.
The wards were subtle here. Not restrictive. Suggestive.
Hiroto stood still in the square.
And waited.
Within minutes, people began to adjust around him merchants shifting stalls, guards repositioning, foot traffic flowing away from certain spaces without anyone issuing orders.
Yui whispered, "They're optimizing movement."
"Yes," Hiroto replied quietly. "Watch who hesitates."
A young man carrying baskets paused mid-step, eyes unfocused for a heartbeat, then rerouted himself.
"Did you feel that?" Hiroto asked him gently.
The man blinked. "Feel what?"
"That pause," Hiroto said. "That moment where you didn't decide."
The man frowned. "I…I guess?"
Others nearby began listening.
Hiroto raised his voice not loudly.
Clearly.
"Has anyone here felt a thought arrive already finished?"
Murmurs rippled.
A woman spoke hesitantly. "Sometimes… I forget what I was about to want."
"That's not forgetfulness," Hiroto said. "That's filtration."
Guards stiffened.
Masanori stepped forward. "You're provoking a response."
"Yes," Hiroto replied. "And recording it."
A Warden approached not aggressive.
"Please disperse," it said calmly. "This gathering is statistically inefficient."
Hiroto smiled faintly.
"Did you hear that?" he asked the crowd. "It didn't say unsafe. Or illegal."
The Warden hesitated.
Yui felt it a subtle tightening.
"They're adjusting," she whispered.
"Good," Hiroto said. "That means people are noticing."
A man shouted, "Why did my son stop wanting to leave this town?"
A woman cried, "Why do my dreams feel smaller?"
The Warden raised its hand.
"Emotional variance reduction improves quality of life," it said.
Hiroto nodded. "For averages."
Silence fell.
Averages were safe.
But no one lived there.
They left before arrests came.
But something followed them, not soldiers.
Questions.
By the next village, people were already whispering.
"He explains things."
"He doesn't fix them."
"He makes you notice."
That night, Yui sat close to the fire.
"Is this fair?" she asked. "What you're doing?"
Hiroto stared into the flames. "No."
Goro looked up. "Then why do it?"
"Because fairness isn't what's being stolen," Hiroto replied. "Choice is."
Masanori exhaled slowly. "You're turning people into variables again."
"Yes," Hiroto said. "But this time, they know."
By the third town, Wardens arrived faster.
Not to silence.
To reframe.
Posters appeared overnight.
Yui tore one down, hands shaking.
"They're winning the narrative."
Hiroto shook his head. "They're confirming it."
In a small village by the hills, an old man approached Hiroto privately.
"I don't know how to stop them," he said. "But now I know when it's happening."
Hiroto bowed. "That's enough."
The old man smiled faintly. "It's more than they want."
Far above, the Sovereign recalculated.
This was inefficient.
Awareness spread unpredictably.
Control required silence.
And Hiroto was not breaking systems.
He was teaching people to see them.
Closing
As they walked beneath the stars, Hiroto felt the shadow settle not heavier.
Clearer.
He was no longer resisting.
He was revealing.
And revelation, once begun, could not be optimized away.