Viw: Whispers and the Beautiful Challenge

Season 1 – The First Whisper

Episode 8: Unshakable Proof

—The day after Naomi returned from Kyoto.
Holding the raw material and documents Takano had entrusted to her, she headed into the office.

The door to the development floor slid open.

“Welcome back, Chief!”

Yusuke’s voice rose as he stood.
Across the floor, faces turned—eyes brightening, if only a little.

Naomi drew a deep breath and set the aluminum can gently on the desk.

“This is the new ingredient.
Olive powder.
Review it with the documents.”

She passed him the thick stack of papers from Takano, then turned.

“Scan this and keep a PDF copy.
The original goes to the lab.
Version control—add it to your repo as well.”

“On it!”

They exchanged a short nod. Naomi gathered the can and the original and started down the corridor, morning light slanting across the white floor.
It was the same building, the same floor—yet the air felt different now.
Her own stride told her so.

＊

The lab’s automatic doors opened.
A clean, white smell.

“Good morning.”

Researchers in white coats turned.
Their eyes snapped to the aluminum can.

Naomi opened it, pulling out the inner pouch.

“From Takano-san.
Olive powder.
The technical appendix is at the end of the original.”

One researcher held the pouch to the light, pinching the lip.

“…What is this?”

He flicked it lightly with dry fingers.

“Freeze-dried?
A bit dramatic, isn’t it.”

He didn’t deny the technique—yet there was a trace of a smirk.

Naomi swallowed her words and nodded.

(Dramatic or not—the result will answer.)

A brief spark flashed in her chest.
But the schedule mattered more than sparks.

“Three bioreactors.
Use this temperature–humidity range.
Photograph every step.”

They moved quickly.
Parameters lined up across the monitors.
Behind the dust shield, the powder slipped in with care.
Numbers calmed. A green light flicked on.

Relief spread.

(Good… we can make it.)

For the first time, Naomi’s lungs filled easily.

＊

Two days passed.
Only two remained.

Tension returned to the lab.
The time for measurement was near.
The paper cup on the corner of the table had gone lukewarm.
The clock did not tick, yet the sound of anxiety rang in every ear.

“Beginning measurement.”

A researcher’s voice.
A lamp blinked. The indicator slid.
Paper fed from the printer—white bands marked with ink.
He glanced down—and froze.

“…Zero.”

Someone’s gasp echoed unnaturally loud.
The edges of Naomi’s vision darkened; the floor seemed to shift.

They had followed the protocol.
Appearance, scent—everything suggested fermentation was underway.
But the readout was empty.

“No way…”

Her voice rasped into the air and vanished.

“Knew it wouldn’t work.”
“Fooled by how it looks.”

Resignation mixed with ridicule, circling the sterile walls and returning like a draft.
Morning’s relief collapsed like a mirage.

Naomi gripped the table, searching for feeling in her fingertips.

(What did we miss?
Where?)

The checklist blasted through her head.
But before she found the answer, her heartbeat surged, drowning it out.

Then—Yusuke looked up.

A glint cut through his gaze—not at Naomi, but past her.
He shoved back his chair and strode out.
The door slammed louder than usual.

Seconds—minutes—lost their edges.
Naomi didn’t chase him.
She laced her fingers and counted her pulse.
There was nothing else she could do.

＊

He returned with a laptop, breath fine with sweat.
He set it on the bench, fingers racing the trackpad.

“Please—look at this.”

The preserved technical PDF filled the screen.
The scrollbar slid, stopped.

A full-moon icon.
A red underline.

—Fermentation must be initiated on the night of the full moon.

Silence.

A researcher frowned.
“The full moon?
You’re saying timing changes the outcome?
Ridiculous.”

Another smirked with only his lips.
“Call it theater.
Great for the presentation.
But the data is zero.
Let’s be realistic.”

“But!”

Yusuke raised his voice.

“We started this batch not on a full moon.
Isn’t this the only explanation for—”

A snort cut him off.

“Full-moon drama—sure, it plays.
But this is science, not superstition.”

The air sank lower.
Yusuke bit his lip, eyes fixed on the screen.
Naomi felt the white of the lab recede around her.

Their words didn’t fail to pierce—
they pierced and stayed.

(We came this far…
Was that light just an illusion?)

Her throat burned; her eyes stayed dry.
There was no room left to cry.

Beyond the window, clouds slid past a dull sky.
The light was hidden.

She watched that sky—
and Takano’s voice returned, clear as a bell.

—Ignore the rhythm of nature, and the power won’t stay.

Just one line.
She had treated it as metaphor.
Now, it fit into the sorest place in her chest and held fast.

Naomi pulled out her phone.
Her fingers trembled.
His name was already in her contacts.

The floor’s air, the lab’s cold laughter, the ticking clock—
she set them aside for one heartbeat, and pressed “Call.”

The ring aligned with her pulse.
The lab stayed cold and white.
Only that sound reached forward—
toward what might come next.