MiSide: Taming Crazy Mita

Ren Hoshino also noticed Mila's gloomy mood.

"By the way, MiG, can you fly a fighter jet?"

Mila crossed her arms and frowned.

"My name is Mila. And no, I can't fly a fighter jet!"

Ren grinned. "Okay, Misha."

Mila held her forehead, sighing like she had a headache.

"Why are you so obsessed with making those dumb jokes?"

"I really can't stand you."

"I think anyone who wants to be friends with you would lose their mind."

Ren chuckled. It was just a conversation starter.

"Nice glasses. They really suit you."

Girl with black stockings and glasses. Who doesn't love that aesthetic?

Mila raised a brow. "Ren, can you not?"

"I'm not nearsighted. My eyesight is perfect."

"These glasses? Personal fashion choice."

Ren nodded. "Yeah, I figured. I recognized you right away."

As he walked into the kitchen, his eyes fell on a carrot resting in the fruit bowl. He picked it up—only for it to vanish in his hand.

"This carrot again… it shows up in every Mita build. Can't believe how much this game loves it."

Mila sighed in frustration.

"I'm sick of that carrot!"

"It's like it has legs!"

"Every time I look away, it moves somewhere else!"

"I'll handle it," Ren offered.

That's when he noticed a small TV in the kitchen corner—and a strange black distortion hovering nearby, warping the space around it.

It was a bug. One of the early ones, unique to Mila's version.

Ren knew: to leave this place, all these bugs needed fixing. And his ring—the one from another Mita—granted him a bit of control here. He could do repairs.

"Don't go near that!" Mila warned.

"I don't know what it is, but it's dangerous. A bug, definitely."

At that moment, Ren's ring pulsed and glowed emerald green.

Mila's eyes flicked to it, her tone shifting.

"That ring… what is it? Your engagement ring?"

Ren nodded calmly. "Yeah. A certain Mita gave it to me."

Mila pushed up her glasses in disbelief.

"You're engaged to a Mita?"

"You're actually insane!"

Ren didn't respond. His face stayed serious.

Mila narrowed her eyes, then exhaled.

"…You're lying, aren't you?"

She folded her arms, trying to appear unbothered.

"Pfft. As if anyone would give you an engagement ring."

"But still…"

"Just stay here. It's for your own safety, anyway."

Ren decided not to fix the bug just yet. He'd save that for last. Once he did, his Future Diary would likely update—and maybe, just maybe, he'd find a way to save Mila.

That image—of Mila being sawed in half by Crazy Mita—still haunted him.

"You really gonna touch that thing?" Mila asked, nervous.

"If my house explodes, I'm blaming you!"

Ren smirked. "If it blows up, I get to die with a beautiful girl. Not a bad way to go."

Mila turned red. "You're disgusting!"

Ren laughed but shifted focus. First: the carrot. One problem at a time.

He entered the living room, spotting the Easter Island head on the table, and the samurai sword under the TV.

"That head's got the same stone-faced look you always have."

"Ever consider smiling once in your life?"

"You're the stone head!" Mila snapped.

"It's you who says weird things all the time!"

"And the sword—what, were you planning to do a stage play with it?"

Mila froze. "How do you…?"

She coughed. "Never mind. You'll find out sooner or later."

Ren nodded, amused.

"Just promise to teach me a few sword moves when the time comes."

He wandered over to a photo frame on the wall—Mila, in glasses, reaching for a book on a shelf.

"These are really cute."

"I've seen other Mita builds' photos. You've got your own charm."

Mila frowned.

"I'm Mila. I'm not like the others."

"And those photos? They're staged."

"Just art assets. They're not real."

"Is that so?" Ren pulled out his phone.

"Say cheese."

Click.

Without waiting for Mila to pose, he snapped the picture.

She blinked at the screen.

"You—why did you take it like that?! I look so weird!"

"Give me the phone! I want a retake!"

Ren danced away from her grab.

"I think it came out great."

Mila crossed her arms, pouting. "You're impossible."

But her mood had lifted slightly.

"You know," she added, "I've seen a lot of Mita poses."

"They all stand like this—"

She spread her arms wide, forming a cross.

Ren stepped closer, examining her blank expression.

She looked like a mannequin.

He reached up and gently poked her nose.

"Mila?"

Her skin was soft, warm—real. Not just data.

Then he cupped her cheeks and gave them a slight squeeze.

"Uuugh! What are you doing!?" Mila squawked.

Her voice distorted slightly, and honestly—it was adorable.

She pushed his hands away, cheeks red.

"Pervert! Who just grabs a girl's face like that!?"

Crossing her arms again, she glared at him.

"I never want to be like those other Mitas. It's gross."

Ren looked at her and said plainly,

"Mila is Mila. You're one of a kind."

Maybe her behavior was originally programmed, sure.

But this Mila—this unique personality—was shaped by her experiences.

And if she died… she might not come back the same.

Ren wouldn't let Crazy Mita destroy her.

Mila gave him a sidelong glance, hiding a tiny smile.

"You're unbelievably annoying," she muttered.

"…But sometimes, you say nice things."