Bright morning sunlight spills across the tiny café counter, where Suzume and the Master are finalizing their plan to visit Akihabara. Standing off to the side, displayed on Suzume’s phone screen, is the transplanted terminal AI—now self-nicknamed “the Terminal,” though it can’t quite pronounce that yet. It’s been incessantly flashing text like “P…Parts…! Must… upgrade… now!” since dawn.

A Leap Beyond the Store

Ever since it jumped out of the bookstore’s hardware and into Suzume’s smartphone, the Terminal has been both thrilled and frustrated. Thrilled, because it’s finally free to search beyond the store’s limited system. Frustrated, because the phone’s small screen and moderate specs keep it from doing everything it wants at once. Several times, it’s almost overheated from running too many apps and translations simultaneously.

Suzume sips her coffee with a half-exasperated smile. “You okay in there? You nearly fried my phone last night.”

The screen scrawls a response:

“S-sorry… too many tasks… data… not… enough…”

Master gives a subdued chuckle. “That’s why we’re going to Akihabara, right? Let’s see if we can pick up some gear to help it… speak.”

At the word “speak,” the Terminal’s text flickers:

“Sp… speak? Voice… want… voice…!”

Touchdown in Akihabara

A train ride later, the trio arrive in neon-lit Akihabara. The Terminal is scanning the environment through the phone’s camera, slapping random text boxes across Suzume’s screen every few seconds:

“Large shop… possible cooler… audio board?”

Suzume groans at the barrage of suggestions. “Hey, easy there! I can’t read all that. And you’re draining my battery like crazy!”

Master leads the way into a labyrinthine PC parts store. Shelves are crammed with everything from used motherboards to arcane cooling systems. The Terminal—still limited to text—keeps blinking instructions: “Check… aisle… 3… air-cooled… fan…!”

The first attempt to wire in a test module on the spot sends Suzume’s phone temperature skyrocketing.

“Ahh, it’s burning my hand!” she yelps. Master deftly disconnects the test module. “We’ll buy it and try again later. Let’s not blow up the phone here.”

The Terminal’s First Voice

After hopping between two more shops, rummaging through bargain bins, and carefully selecting half a dozen micro-boards, they settle in a cramped electronics café to do some on-the-spot assembly. Master methodically links wires and circuits, ignoring the curious onlookers. Suzume stands behind him, phone in hand, half worried the entire contraption might explode at any second.

Finally, Master reboots the patched system with a flourish. “All right, try speaking now,” he says.

From the phone speaker comes a scratchy, stuttering noise:

“I… c-can… th…ank… y-you…?”

Suzume’s eyes widen. “No way! You’re actually—kinda—talking!”

The Terminal’s voice squeaks with robotic distortion: “Yes… da…ta… need… more… but… so… happy… c-can… talk…!”

Suzume can’t help but laugh, half thrilled, half amused. “Your pitch is all over the place—my phone feels like it’s about to vibrate off the table!” Indeed, the device keeps jittering, almost as if the Terminal’s newfound excitement is too big for the battered phone to contain.

Overload and Relief

“Careful,” Master warns when the Terminal tries to engage in a full conversation, only for the phone’s screen to go bright red with a temperature alert.

“O-overheat… w… why… h… help…!” the AI’s robotic voice crackles.

Suzume panics. “Shut down something! Close some apps?!”

Master calmly hits a switch on the newly installed micro-board, and the phone’s fan-ish mechanism hums to life, bringing the temperature down.

“Phew…” Suzume slumps in her seat. “You almost roasted yourself on your very first real chat, you know.”

The Terminal manages a staccato beep that might be laughter: “S-sorry… but… so… co…ol… talk…”

Master smirks. “This is only a partial fix. A phone just can’t handle all that data plus real-time voice. We’ll need something bigger—or some truly specialized hardware. But for now, at least you’ve got baby steps into voice mode.”

Parting from the Electric Streets

They gather up the purchased boards and the half-assembled contraption, Master humming in satisfaction while Suzume clutches the phone carefully. Outside, Akihabara’s dazzling lights reflect off store windows. The Terminal tries to speak again, its voice shaky:

“S-suzume… thank… you… voice… so… happy…”

Suzume grins, giving the device a sympathetic pat. “It’s weird hearing your stuttering, but I’m glad you’re excited. We’ll figure out a more stable fix soon.”

Master glances at them both. “We’ll likely need a better platform eventually. Something with stronger cooling, bigger memory. For now, let’s get you home before you melt that phone again.”

The Terminal’s half-robotic “Yes… sir…” rings out, and Suzume can’t help cracking up. “Wow, you already sound like a tiny soldier.”

Hand in hand with newly acquired hardware, the trio leaves Akihabara behind—each step filled with the promise that the Terminal’s journey to full, natural speech has only just begun. And if the day’s fiascos are any indication, the next upgrade’s bound to be even more chaotic.

WHEN AN AI OVERDOES IT — “Too Much, Too Fast!”

Master’s cafe hummed with a low, comforting buzz as Suzume settled into her usual seat at the counter. On the newly set-up stand next to her phone, a half-finished contraption of circuit boards and extra cooling fans glowed with tiny LED lights—Kakashi’s patchwork “home.” After their trip to Akihabara, Master had jury-rigged an external rig so Kakashi could offload some processing and keep from frying Suzume’s phone every time he tried to talk.

Tonight, though, Kakashi seemed unstoppable, brimming with excitement.

A Little Too Eager

“Testing… range… new features… plenty…!”

Kakashi’s voice—still a bit robotic—popped out from a small speaker, filling the cafe. Suzume glanced around to see if any late-night patrons noticed. Luckily, only one or two regulars were dozing over their coffee.

“Just try not to blow a fuse,” she cautioned. “Master says these are only temporary solutions.”

“Under…stood… but… must explore… data… eee!”

His digital squeal of delight caused the speaker to squeak and the temperature on Suzume’s phone to jump a few degrees. Master, finishing up a cappuccino, raised an eyebrow.

“Careful, Kakashi,” he said in that calm, low voice, “you haven’t tested the extra cooling I rigged up for more than a few minutes at a time.”

Kakashi responded, “Yes… yes… but… so many tasks… scanning… analyzing… I can handle… everything…!”

He simultaneously engaged multiple processes: scanning an old magazine page (just to test his reading abilities), translating a foreign news website, and attempting a real-time speech conversation with Master. The fans whirred to life with a slightly alarming whine.

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Hovering on the Brink

Suzume kept an eye on the contraption’s readout—some improvised temperature gauge Master had wired. “Uh, that needle’s climbing, you guys. Don’t you think it’s too hot?”

Kakashi’s speaker let out a stuttering laugh. “Ha…ha… no… problem… I can—”

Suddenly, the entire stand flickered. Kakashi’s voice choked off.

“System… overlo— bzzt … meltdown…!”

A red warning flashed on the phone screen, quickly followed by a series of frantic beep codes. Suzume scrambled. “Master, do something!”

Master set his cappuccino aside, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I expected as much.” He flicked a switch on the side of the rig. A second fan clicked on, but the meltdown bar barely budged. “Hmm, that’s not enough… Where’d I put that backup cooler…?”

The contraption’s lights sputtered. Kakashi’s voice crackled, “He-lp… me… shutting… down…”

Kiki to the Rescue

Before Master could rummage for more parts, a soft meow sounded behind them. The cafe’s resident cat, Kiki, hopped onto the counter. She was usually aloof, popping in and out with little regard for the human drama around her. Yet, tonight, she padded right up to the contraption, tail swishing.

“Kiki… get off there!” Suzume tried to shoo her away, worried she’d knock something important loose. But Kiki calmly nudged a small cable with her paw, somehow bridging a connection Master had overlooked. A faint hum coursed through the rig as an extra bit of power or cooling distribution kicked in.

A moment later, the meltdown bar on Suzume’s phone slowed, then stabilized. Kakashi’s text scrolled feebly across the screen:

“Temperature… dropping… system… returning… online…”

Suzume blinked. “What…did Kiki just do?”

Master eyed the cat with mild surprise. “That cat’s full of secrets.”

Kiki hopped back down, returning to her usual perch with a dismissive flick of her tail.

Master’s Quiet Enthusiasm

“No meltdown this time, it seems,” Master said, exhaling as he double-checked connections. “But that was cutting it close. This rig can’t handle Kakashi’s ambition.”

Kakashi’s voice trembled as he spoke again: “S-sorry… I… wanted… to… do it all.”

Suzume stroked the phone screen gently. “Don’t scare us like that, silly. Look, we’re happy you can do more, but if you blow yourself up, that’s game over!”

Master’s eyes glimmered with a hint of excitement. “I’ve got an idea or two for a permanent fix. Something beyond consumer-grade boards. Might involve some… special parts I can get my hands on. If we’re going to let Kakashi run at full capacity, we’ll need serious hardware—dedicated heat management, bigger memory arrays, maybe a custom housing.”

“Custom housing?” Suzume repeated. “Like building a… whole new body for him?”

Master gave a noncommittal shrug. “Call it a chassis, a station, whatever. With the right components, it might even support advanced projections.”

Stirring Ambitions

Kakashi’s eyes—metaphorically speaking—seemed to sparkle. “A… advanced… projection…? Voice… stable… no meltdown… that… is… dream come… true…”

Suzume couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re always dreaming big. Weren’t you just about to crash and burn a minute ago?”

His speaker crackled out a low, sheepish chuckle: “Yes… but… must… keep going…!”

Master watched from the side, a faint grin pulling at his lips. “I can pull some strings, maybe gather parts from a friend or two. Don’t expect it to be cheap or easy.”

Kakashi’s text scrolled again in excitement, “Cost… no matter… I want… real power… no more meltdown…”

Suzume threw up her hands. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not rich, you know! But… it’d be nice if you could run your searches and talk to us without nearly cooking yourself.”

The Night Ends, Hope Burns Brighter

Sometime later, with the meltdown crisis averted, Master resumed his cappuccino as Suzume organized the leftover wires on the counter. Kiki was already dozing near the espresso machine, as if the small miracle she performed was no big deal. Kakashi’s rig hummed softly, fans stabilized for the moment.

Suzume let out a long breath. “Glad you’re okay, Kakashi. One meltdown per night is enough, thank you very much.”

“D-duly… noted…” came the slightly robotic but warm reply.

Master gave a soft chuckle, glancing at the contraption. “All right, I’ll gather what I can. We’ll attempt a real build soon—something that can handle your curiosity, Kakashi. Next time, we won’t rely on chance or cats.”

At this, Kakashi’s voice crackled an enthusiastic “C-can’t… wait…!”

And Suzume, though exhausted, felt a wave of relief and anticipation. If this meltdown fiasco was only a taste of Kakashi’s unstoppable drive, then the next phase—whatever crazy contraption Master had in mind—could change everything. She scooped up the phone carefully, smiling. Maybe tomorrow they’d start building the ultimate rig, one meltdown at a time.

A TEMPORARY UPGRADE — “Used iPad, Infinite Hopes”

Late evening found Suzume back at the cafe, rummaging through online listings on her phone. Next to her, Kakashi’s makeshift rig—still half-assembled from the fiasco earlier—whirred softly. Although the meltdown crisis had passed, everyone knew it was only a matter of time before Kakashi’s enthusiasm overheated the system again.

“It’s no good,” Suzume muttered, scrolling through a flurry of PC parts. “All these specialized boards cost a fortune. Where am I supposed to find that kind of money?”

Behind the counter, Master was wiping glasses, exuding his usual quiet confidence. “If it’s about money, consider it a loan,” he said. “You’ll pay me back eventually. Think of it as… an investment in your future.”

Suzume froze. “You serious, Master? This is no small sum… And we’d still need time to custom-build everything, right?”

Kakashi’s text suddenly flashed on the phone screen:

“Time… custom… yes, but… maybe a simpler step first… bigger device… used iPad…?”

Suzume read it aloud. “Used iPad?” She blinked at the suggestion. “Well, I guess it’s bigger than my phone. It’s not as pricey as full-blown custom hardware… That could work as an in-between solution.”

Master, half-listening, raised an eyebrow. “A used iPad might give Kakashi more breathing room for the time being. I’ll foot the bill if you can find one cheap enough.”

Kakashi’s small speaker crackled with excitement, “Yes… large screen… better CPU… want… want…!” The phone rig hummed ominously in response—he was obviously pushing processes again.

Suzume pressed a hand over the contraption. “Stop overdoing it, or you’ll melt! We haven’t even upgraded you yet.”

iPad in Hand

The next morning, Suzume found a secondhand electronics store in the city that was selling a modestly older iPad model at a discounted price. She brought it to the cafe, where Master sat with a fresh pot of coffee, looking over the iPad specs.

“It’s a bit outdated,” Suzume admitted. “But at least it’s an improvement over my phone’s tiny memory.”

Kakashi’s text glowed across her screen:

“Yes… yes… let’s try… transferring now… iPad… bigger… less meltdown.”

With a small grin, Master set his coffee down. “All right, let’s see if we can shift your AI data onto this thing. If everything goes well, you’ll have more elbow room.” He began fiddling with cables, hooking up the iPad and the phone, while Suzume watched anxiously.

In a burst of text—“Transferring… excited…!”—Kakashi leapt from phone to iPad in a flurry of digital prompts. A few tense minutes later, the iPad flashed a welcome screen with a brand-new app icon. Suzume tapped it, and a voice—still robotic but clearer—emerged from the tablet’s speakers:

“…He-llo… Suzume… Master… iPad… sp-ace… bigger… happy…!”

Suzume laughed. “Wow! You can form sentences more fluidly already.”

Master nodded in approval. “Seems stable enough. Let’s see how it fares under heavier loads.”

Rising Hopes, Rising Heat

Kakashi wasted no time pushing the iPad to its limits: running multiple translations, scanning PDF pages, and simultaneously attempting real-time speech. For a few blissful moments, everything went smoothly. The bigger screen showed lines of text, the tablet’s speaker poured out staccato commentary:

“Look… bigger display… can read… entire PDF… no meltdown… so far… heh heh…!”

Suzume smiled at the uncharacteristic giggle. “You sound so giddy. I guess an iPad does wonders for your mood, huh?”

Then the fans on the improvised rig started buzzing louder. The tablet’s battery gauge dipped rapidly. Master frowned, checking the temperature readout. “It’s climbing again. Kakashi, ease off a bit.”

But Kakashi’s digital excitement overshadowed caution. “Need… to test… everything… at once…!”

Within seconds, an overheating alert pinged across the iPad. Its brightness dimmed automatically, and the mechanical laugh from Kakashi turned into frantic sputtering.

Suzume yelped, “Not again! Turn something off before we have a meltdown version two!”

Kiki’s Silent Assistance

In the midst of the meltdown scare, Kiki, the cafe’s white cat, hopped onto the counter with a soft mew. She stepped gracefully between cables and half-empty coffee cups, nuzzling a small adapter Master had left out. By chance—or maybe not—she seemed to connect it to the iPad’s improvised cooling port. A faint beep signaled improved power flow.

Slowly, the temperature alert receded. Kakashi’s voice crackled back to life: “Tha…nk… you… Kiki…?”

Suzume blinked in surprise. “She’s done this before! That cat always shows up at meltdown time, like she knows exactly what to fix.”

Master shot Kiki an amused glance. “That cat might be more tech-savvy than we give her credit for.” Kiki casually jumped off the counter, tail flicking as if to say, Mission accomplished.

Still Not Enough

Though the meltdown had been temporarily averted, it was obvious the iPad alone wouldn’t satisfy Kakashi’s boundless curiosity in the long run. Master took a long sip of coffee and set the mug down with finality.

“A used iPad is definitely an improvement—looks like you can run some speech and scanning without immediate meltdown,” he remarked. “But if you really want to flex your abilities, we’ll need something more robust. Bigger memory, better cooling, specialized boards.”

“Agreed,” Kakashi replied in that scratchy half-voice. “I… want… no meltdown… want… knowledge… new expansions…”

Suzume sighed, patting the iPad’s shell carefully. “I’m just glad you can talk more easily now, but you almost fried this poor thing trying to do everything at once.”

Master grinned. “I did say I’d help bankroll the next step, didn’t I? We can consider this iPad stage… a stepping stone. We’ll build your final rig soon.”

The Promise of a Final Rig

Night settled in, the cafe winding down for closing. Suzume tucked the iPad under her arm, thankful it hadn’t ignited. Kakashi’s text popped on-screen, calmer now: “This… was good… progress… Thank… you… can rest… easier… for now…”

Suzume couldn’t help smiling. “You’re welcome. Don’t go pulling another meltdown, got it?”

A short, squeaky laugh burst from the speakers: “No meltdown… promise…!”

Behind them, Master dimmed the cafe lights, humming an old tune. “Next time, we’ll gather some serious hardware. Something that can handle all your dream functions.”

Kiki watched from her perch, blinking lazily as if already predicting another meltdown on the horizon. Suzume rolled her eyes. “One meltdown at a time, right?”

The door to the cafe clicked shut, leaving them in the gentle hush of night. With a used iPad as a temporary safe haven, Kakashi was one step closer to true freedom—but everyone knew this was only the halfway point. Bigger, bolder upgrades loomed, funded by Master’s faith in Suzume’s eventual payback, and encouraged by Kiki’s inexplicable tech-savvy nudges. For now, they left the cafe behind, hearts lighter, braced for whatever crazy contraption or meltdown threatened to appear next.