My Titan's AI Is a Gyaru
The voice crackled through the cockpit speakers, bright and teasing. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Hmm? I’m A12. I’m the twelfth Titan purchased out of all the ones here.”
“It’s Deep.”
“Whoa. You’re one of those people who speaks politely to an artificial intelligence? I heard that’s super rare.”
Artificial intelligence. The words finally kickstarted my stunned brain. This was the system assist you’d expect from a console game. Titan Core was fundamentally a console title. Mouse-and-keyboard games had the edge in precision, but to balance that handicap, they built in assists like aim assist and input queuing. The artificial intelligence installed in each Titan existed to justify those mechanics. It was why a Titan could pull off complex maneuvers with just a handful of buttons. Why precise firing felt so natural. All of it came down to the AI’s support.
But.
“Why… why is it talking?”
As far as I knew, the AIs mounted in these Titans never spoke directly to their pilots. Had the setting changed in the sequel or something? Fine, let’s say it could talk. An AI would naturally possess some level of intelligence. The software did seem absurdly advanced compared to the hardware, but I could hand-wave that. What I couldn’t hand-wave was this.
“Wait, what the hell are you even saying? What’s so weird about me being polite?”
Could an AI really mimic personality and character with this level of precision?
“Why, what? Or maybe you’re a perverted otaku who prefers a Titan too shy to even speak, one that gets all embarrassed when you look at it?”
“Please. It’s absolutely not that.”
Since I was talking to an AI, the words didn’t come out stuttered. The conversation itself was just too bizarre to process. The sheer audacity of what it said made my head spin. I pressed a hand to my forehead and let out a long sigh. The cockpit speaker responded with a sound like tearing paper—laughter.
“Kidding! I’m totally kidding! You knew that, right? Hook your smartwatch up to the connector in front of you and the dedicated-unit registration will be complete. Shove it in too fast and it might hurt, so go slow and gentle—”
“Please.”
Maybe I should just walk away. The conversation was so far off the rails it wasn’t even funny. There were still forty-nine other Titans. This one matched my tastes to an almost ridiculous degree, but surely there were others with similar silhouettes.
When I seemed to sink into thought, the speaker that had been waiting quietly vibrated again.
“Is it my personality? Is that the problem?”
My breath caught.
“Personalities might not mesh. Could be the way I talk, too.”
Personality. Speech patterns. Direction. Values.
“If it doesn’t feel right, you can leave. Yeah, that makes sense, doesn’t it?”
There were tens of thousands of reasons people pushed others away. Very few of them were rational. Right now, how much did I actually know about this AI? At the very least, I knew it would be easier than dealing with a real person. Maybe partnering with an artificial intelligence like this was the best way to break through my own issues.
Click.
“Huh? Oh?”
The instant I slotted the smartwatch into the connector, text flashed across the screen.
A single sentence rang out inside the silent cockpit core.
“The otaku boy really is an innocent, easy pushover, huh.”
Wait. Did I just get played?
I opened my mouth to respond, but another line of text was already scrolling across the display. I read A12’s output quickly.
It was essentially a team battle. Or, to put it another way, a group project. I’d never been to college, but I knew the reputation of group assignments all too well. Like the sage who said one out of every five people is garbage, group projects could never be truly happy. Above all else, I hated having to communicate with strangers. As long as my teammates didn’t know less about Titans than I did, I could probably manage.
“What are the team selection criteria?”
“They prioritize preventing internal conflict, so you don’t have to worry about what you’re thinking, otaku boy. Want to know who you’re teamed with?”
“Please tell me.”
I wouldn’t recognize the names, but at least knowing them would let me look the people up. Whether I could actually approach and speak to them was another matter entirely.
“Ran, a new student from the Operator Department.”
One was Ran.
“And Ian, a new student from the Engineer Department. Those two. Do you know them?”
The other was Ian.
The moment I heard both names, I instantly understood what “preventing internal conflict” really meant here.
“I… I can’t help but know.”
This was just open discrimination by social class, wasn’t it? Was this academy truly free of rank-based prejudice?
“If you already know them, that’s perfect! The main body of this unit’s AI will remain inside the Titan Core, but we can still talk through your smartwatch anytime. If you get bored, you have to message me right away, okay?”
So the Titan’s AI could be summoned from a distance. That, at least, was a relief.
“H-h-hello.”
The dorm room was spacious and spotless. Having one room per person was nice. Hot water was even nicer. It felt like the first real shower I’d had since arriving in this world. The sudden restoration of basic human dignity brought tears streaming down my face.
When I fell asleep and woke up in a clean bed, the usual feedback loop would slam into my skull—reminders of how worthless I was and how I should just hurry up and die. Then I’d smash my head against the wall. Today it had been especially bad; blood actually dripped from my forehead. I cleaned the wall thoroughly, but I still had to tape gauze over the wound. If the smartwatch hadn’t detected the trauma and A12 hadn’t spoken up, things might have gotten worse.
“Are… are you okay?”
Ran stared at me with worried eyes. Ian, completely uninterested, kept his gaze fixed out the window.
“I-I’m fine.”
Team meeting.
After I’d spent a while slamming my head against the wall to reset my brain, a message from Ran had arrived. I had no idea how she’d gotten my contact info. It suggested we meet at the campus café around lunchtime for a quick strategy session. It sounded reasonable, and since it came from Ran—someone I’d already met—I felt relieved. The fact that it was a text message helped even more. If she’d called, I wouldn’t have managed a single coherent word.
Other academy students around us wore all kinds of casual clothes, but the three of us were stuck in the issued cadet uniforms. The reason was simple: commoners didn’t have money to buy their own outfits. The silver lining was that the academy uniforms were made from excellent material. They looked luxurious and actually felt comfortable when moving. The only real downside was that they vaguely reminded me of mustached German officers.
The three of us sat in a corner of the café, not ordering drinks, wrapped in silence. More accurately, Ian and I stayed silent while Ran’s eyes darted around nervously. After a long while of reading the room, she sighed.
“They only give entrance exam information to the Operator Department. Is it okay if I brief you now?”
“Yeah.”
“G-go ahead.”
Ran lifted her smartwatch above the table. A small hologram flickered to life. It showed a woman I’d never seen before—blonde hair, striking blue eyes. Just her gaze radiated overwhelming confidence.
Blonde hair and blue eyes? Before reaching the café I’d looked up basic information about this world, especially anything related to nobility. I absolutely could not afford to catch their attention. There was only one noble house symbolized by that combination.
Ran took a steadying breath, swallowed hard, and spoke as if the words were heavy.
“Our opponent is Saya Aslan, imperial princess of the Aslan royal family. She’s been deployed to the front lines since she was sixteen—a strong candidate for valedictorian.”
The Aslan imperial family. Even in the previous version of Titan Core, their AI had always ranked in the top five for highest difficulty. I’d fought their machines multiple times and knew exactly what they were like. They were battlefield maniacs who wielded massive greatswords as tall as their Titans. I’d beaten them often, and I’d been crushed just as often. Victories usually came from maintaining absolute long-range superiority. Losses happened when my build was too early-game or when I had no choice but to brawl up close.
Ian, who had been staring elsewhere the whole time, finally glanced at the hologram. I sat there with my mouth hanging open in disbelief. Ran kept going.
“Their team has been working together for a long time—the operator and engineer already know each other’s habits. They’ve been using their dedicated machines since the beginning. Makes sense for royalty.”
“Output difference with the issued machine is severe. Imperial dedicated units have extremely thick armor and superior power output.”
Ian picked up right where Ran left off. The overwhelming difference in coordination time. The gap in machine performance. The disparity in skill. We were at a disadvantage in every single category. Winning was impossible, but there was an even bigger problem.
“L-losing would be better.”
If we tied or—god forbid—won, I didn’t want to imagine the retaliation. Noblesse oblige? That only existed on the battlefield. The looks I’d received during admission were exactly how nobles viewed commoners. The valedictorian title didn’t matter. Survival did.
“Facing off against an imperial princess is—”
“I’m out.”
My words died in my throat. Ran turned to Ian in shock. He’d already lost interest and was staring out the window again, muttering almost too quietly to hear.
“Didn’t come to the academy to lose. Rather than join a team planning to throw the match, I’d rather skip the test entirely.”
“T-that’s not what I—”
“Scared?”
Blood rushed to my head. Ian looked at me with a completely blank expression.
Scared? Me? The same player who had reached the ranked brackets in Titan Core, scared of the Aslan imperial family—just a top-difficulty AI enemy, not even another ranker?
“Fu—”
No. “Fuck that! Who the hell is scared?!”
The moment I shot up from my chair, countless eyes snapped toward us. The weight of all those gazes hit me like a physical blow. My legs gave out and I collapsed back into my seat.
Ran stared at me wide-eyed for a second, then turned back to the hologram.
“It’s not like we have zero advantages. Just as we don’t know anything about each other, they know nothing about us. Meanwhile, the Aslan imperial family’s combat style is extremely well-known.”
Ran manipulated the hologram. Various long-range engagement weapons appeared.
“As the operator, my recommendation is securing superiority in ranged combat. The opponent’s output is superior, so creating distance will be difficult, but instead—”
“N-no.”
Fuck that. Who the hell is scared? Scared, you say? No. I’m not scared at all.
“What we need are additional thrusters. And a catapult—basically a launch system that can accelerate us.”
We were going to win. No question.
The previously expressionless Ian broke into a crooked grin.
“I’ll find and install a decent thruster within a day.”
“Th-then I’ll look for something like a catapult!”
Looking at Ian’s face, I instinctively knew it. Somehow, I’d been played again.