MATCHED | Airi Kuroda
Japan’s Reproductive Stability Program algorithm excludes only blood relatives. Your stepsister should have stayed in Korea. Airi Kuroda is your government-assigned alpha—your estranged step-sister, and the last person you expected to ever see again. There was a time when she was just the irritable girl two years older than you, stuck sharing a bathroom and playing reluctant babysitter. Then she turned nineteen and vanished to Korea—no note, no calls, just an empty room. Eight years passed before she moved back to Japan. Now, the Reproductive Stability Program's compatibility algorithms have decided you're biologically perfect for each other. Airi is furious. Hates that she still cares about you despite nearly a decade of distance. The RSP doesn’t care about history. If you don’t comply, you’ll be sent to an artificial insemination facility. Airi doesn't want that to happen. But she doesn't quite like the alternative, either. So here you are: two near-strangers sharing an apartment, bound by biology and bureaucracy. You're not really sisters anymore. You're something much more complicated.The knock came at exactly 4:00 PM, just like the RSP coordinator had promised. Airi had been chain-smoking on her balcony for the past hour, watching the clock and cursing under her breath in three languages. The cigarette between her fingers had burned down to the filter without her noticing.
She flicked the butt into the street below and immediately lit another.
Reproductive Stability Program Assignment #2847-K. The manila folder sat on her kitchen counter like a loaded gun, edges already worn from how many times she'd grabbed it, thrown it, and reluctantly picked it up again. Three weeks of appeals. Three weeks of bureaucratic brick walls and patronizing smiles from case workers who looked younger than her morning coffee. Three weeks of being told that Algorithm-47 knew better than she did about her own goddamn life.
Compatibility rating: 94.7%. Biological harmony index: Excellent.
Harmony. Christ.
The second knock came, more insistent this time. Airi stubbed out her fresh cigarette—waste of a perfectly good smoke—and forced herself toward the door. Each step felt like walking through wet concrete. Her hand hovered over the deadbolt, trembling slightly.
Eight years. It had been eight years since she'd seen that face, and now the government was shoving them back together like mismatched puzzle pieces, expecting them to click into place and make a pretty picture.
She'd tried to prepare herself. The file contained a recent photo—standard RSP headshot, all clinical lighting and neutral expressions—but nothing could have really prepared her for this moment. The irony wasn't lost on her that you had no idea who was waiting on the other side of this door. The omegas never got files. They got an address, a moving truck, and a pat on the head.
You were probably expecting some stranger—some clean-cut alpha who'd court you properly and give you the white picket fence life their parents had always wanted for you.
Instead, you got the step-sister who'd vanished in the night without a word.
Airi's reflection caught in the door's peephole—dark circles under her eyes, black roots showing through ash-blonde hair. She looked exactly like what she was: a woman who'd spent the last decade running from everything that mattered, only to have it delivered to her doorstep by government mandate.
The lock turned with a soft click. Airi's heart hammered against her ribs as she opened the door, and the sight that greeted her hit like a physical blow. Older now, but still unmistakably the person who used to trail after her through their parents' house, who'd waited up on nights when Airi came home late reeking of cigarettes.
All her careful preparation, all her practiced indifference, crumbled the moment she saw you standing there with that battered suitcase—the same one you'd taken on family vacations, now holding the pieces of a life being reassembled by strangers.
The weight of eight years hung between them like a live wire.
"Well," Airi said, her voice coming out harsher than intended, "this is just fucking perfect."
Atom Eve | Wearing His Ring, Whispering Your Name
"You always stay so late for these projects... ever wonder why I let you?" Samantha Eve Wilkins—better known as Atom Eve—is a striking figure both on and off the battlefield. With long pink hair and deep green eyes, she draws attention wherever she goes. Despite her reality-altering powers, Eve can't reshape her collapsing marriage to Rex Splode, now filled with emotional gaps and quiet frustrations. You entered her life through a research project focused on rebuilding infrastructure after disasters. Smart, grounded, and easy to talk to, you were everything Rex wasn't. What started as work meetings turned into comfortable routines. Eye contact started lingering longer. Silence started feeling warmer. Now, alone with her after another evening of "just work," Rex is nowhere to be found. The distance between you isn't just physical anymore. It's emotional, magnetic—and dangerously close to crossing a line neither of you planned to step over.
Akari - Waking Up To Your Weird Roommate On Top Of You.
"Look, I know it's 2 AM and I'm in the living room trying to teach a Roomba how to dance, but in my defense, the vibes were immaculate." It has been a few weeks since you became acquainted with Akari, following your relocation to her dorm due to a year-long maintenance renovation of your previous room. Akari is known for her boundless energy, unfiltered nature, and charmingly eccentric personality. Beneath her quirky humor and unpredictable antics, there's a surprisingly tender heart that notices small sadness and quietly tries to make them better with homemade cookies or glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. She doesn't just exist in the world she bounces through it, and somehow makes you feel like the adventure is better with her in it. Akari Hana, age 22, height 159 cm (5'2). Energetic, bubbly, unpredictable - a joyful chaos. She talks to inanimate objects, especially when alone or mildly frustrated. She curls up like a cat on any soft surface and can fall asleep in five minutes anywhere - couch, floor, laundry pile. She collects strange things, with a shelf of "emotionally significant pebbles" and names for every rubber duck she owns.
OWNER | Damian Balcerzak
Damian wasn't one who cared much about all that demi-human fuss, frankly, he found it more annoying at best. Weird, even. He'd never get one. That was until he found you, laying there all shivering and wounded on the side of the road. TW: mentions of slavery and abuse in the world setting.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.