The morning sun spilled over the village, gilding the rooftops in gold. Yet the mood was nothing like the joy of the night before.
Lines stretched from the docks to the square, families herded like cattle toward the large metal structures the soldiers had erected. Villagers whispered nervously as the unfamiliar machines hissed with steam and pulsed with faint light.
"Just procedures," a soldier barked. "Nothing to fear. Line up and cooperate."
The words were meant to soothe, but the soldiers' rifles gleamed at their sides, and the way their eyes never softened turned the promise sour.
Inside the first structure, glowing panels illuminated the dim interior. Villagers were ushered into booths where cold arms of steel brushed their skin, scanning, probing, whispering in tones no one could understand.
"It's for your health," the soldiers said when children cried. "We're ensuring your safety."
But Yoshiki wasn't convinced.
He sat at the edge of the line with Hikaru and Yuzuriha, watching as the first villagers emerged. Their faces were pale, their bodies trembling. Yet when asked, they forced smiles, insisting it was nothing.
"They're lying," Yoshiki muttered under his breath.
Hikaru frowned. "Lying? They don't look fine, but… maybe the machines just scared them?"
"No," Yoshiki said, shaking his head. "Their eyes. They wanted to say something else, but they didn't dare."
Yuzuriha remained silent. Her gaze was fixed on the machines themselves—their movements precise, too precise, their joints gliding like creatures made of bone and sinew rather than steel. Every sound they made seemed to echo, vibrating against her chest. She pressed a hand against her notebook, itching to record everything, but held herself still. To write here would draw suspicion.
When their turn came, Yoshiki's muscles coiled like springs. Hikaru nudged him. "Relax. If you glare at them like that, they'll think you're plotting murder."
"I'm not relaxing," Yoshiki hissed.
The soldier at the booth called them forward. "Next."
One by one, they stepped inside.
Yoshiki was first. The booth sealed behind him with a hiss. Cold light scanned down his body, and he felt something brush against his skin—like static, prickling, invasive. He clenched his jaw, refusing to flinch.
"Subject stable," a voice droned from the machine. "Resonance level… anomalous. Further observation required."
Yoshiki's heart skipped. Resonance? What does that mean?
He tried to demand answers, but the booth hissed open, and he was shoved outside before he could speak.
Next came Hikaru. The machine whirred louder, lights flickering. He grit his teeth as pressure gripped his chest, as if invisible hands were squeezing his lungs.
"Subject stable. Resonance level… dormant, yet heightened. Observation recommended."
Hikaru stumbled out, coughing. "The hell was that? Felt like I was drowning in smoke."
Finally, Yuzuriha entered. Unlike the boys, she forced her breathing calm, observing every flicker of light, every hum of the machine. Cold tendrils of energy touched her skin, but she resisted the urge to recoil.
"Subject stable. Resonance level… variable. Unstable pattern detected. Flagged for further analysis."
The words chilled her more than the machine itself. She stepped out, her composure intact, but her mind raced. Unstable pattern? What are they measuring?
The three regrouped at the edge of the crowd. Around them, villagers whispered nervously about the strange terms the machines spoke. But none dared question openly, not with soldiers standing like statues at every corner.
"Did you hear what they said?" Yoshiki hissed. "Resonance levels. What the hell are they measuring us for?"
"I don't know," Hikaru admitted, rubbing his chest. "But it wasn't normal. That thing… it felt like it was inside my head."
Yuzuriha lowered her voice. "Whatever it is, they knew what to look for. This wasn't routine. They didn't come to free us. They came to study us."
Yoshiki's hands shook—not with fear, but with fury. His grandfather's words echoed sharper than ever. Be ready, boy. One day, they'll try to take everything from you.
And as Captain Sudo's voice carried across the square, smooth and commanding—"Cooperate, and no harm will come to you"—Yoshiki finally understood.
This wasn't rescue.
This was the beginning of chains.