Far from the bustling square where villagers lined up like sheep, the true command center pulsed with quiet menace. Beneath the metallic hum of generators, glowing screens displayed streams of numbers, diagrams of nervous systems, and pulsing waves of light that shifted with each villager scanned.
At the center of it all stood Director Shiga.
His silhouette was rigid against the blue-white glow of the monitors. Silver hair, neatly combed back, caught the sterile light. The sharp lines of his uniform carried more weight than the soldiers' armor—it wasn't just authority, it was ownership.
"Report," he said, his voice flat, clipped, and carrying the weight of someone who expected precision, not excuses.
A technician straightened nervously. "The scans confirm it, sir. The resonance phenomenon is present in several of the younger villagers. Most cases are faint, but three individuals show… unusual readings."
"Names," Shiga demanded without turning his gaze.
"Yoshiki Takahiro. Hikaru Hayashi. Yuzuriha Mori."
The faintest arch of his brow betrayed recognition. "So… the echoes survived."
The technician swallowed. "What shall we do with them, Director? They've already been flagged for observation. The captain suggests—"
"Captain Sudo," Shiga interrupted, finally turning. His eyes were sharp, calculating, like blades honed on decades of secrets. "He does his job well, but he lacks foresight. If left to him, he'll treat them as simple anomalies. They are not. They are the key."
Silence thickened the room, broken only by the hum of machinery.
Shiga's hand hovered over a screen displaying Yoshiki's face. The boy's defiant glare, frozen mid-scan, stared back at him.
"The Takahiro bloodline," Shiga murmured. "Always defiant. Always standing in the way of progress." His lips curved into a thin smile. "And now… a chance to break that curse."
He shifted to the next display: Hikaru, coughing mid-scan, his body tensed against invisible force.
"Hayashi—quiet strength hidden under loyalty. He will bend… or he will shatter."
And finally, Yuzuriha. Her steady eyes locked onto the scanner itself, unflinching, calculating.
"And Mori… ever the watcher. Dangerous, if left unchecked."
He clasped his hands behind his back and turned toward the larger monitors displaying the entire village, every person tagged with faint glowing signatures.
"Proceed with the examinations. Mark the three for deeper analysis. But do not act yet. A caged animal is predictable. A free one… reveals its nature."
The technician hesitated. "Sir, if their resonance grows unstable—"
"Then," Shiga said coldly, "we'll learn more from their breaking point."
His gaze returned to the screens, to the three names glowing faintly among the sea of villagers.
"They will awaken," he whispered, almost to himself. "And when they do… they'll show us the path that was denied a century ago."
The hum of the machines deepened, as though echoing his words.
The sterile hum of Shiga's command center faded into the night air, replaced by the softer rhythm of cicadas outside the barracks. The village was quieter now. Fires smoldered low in their pits, the echoes of laughter long gone, replaced by the wary hush that follows a day too full of strangers.
But not everyone slept.
Yuzuriha sat cross-legged on the roof of her family's hut, knees hugged close, her eyes fixed on the faint glow pulsing from the soldiers' machines in the distance. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and salt carried from the sea.
She pressed a hand over her chest, feeling her heartbeat race. Not from fear—but from curiosity.
Those machines… she thought, narrowing her eyes. They're not just for recording. They react. They pulse like they're alive.
Down below, she heard the familiar tread of feet—Yoshiki's heavier, impatient steps, and Hikaru's quieter, measured ones. They stopped just short of her hut.
"Up here," she whispered, and moments later the two joined her on the roof.
Yoshiki dropped down beside her with his usual scowl. "You're watching them again."
"And you're glaring again," she countered without turning.
Hikaru sat a little apart, adjusting the cloth around his shoulders. His cough from earlier still lingered in his voice. "We shouldn't draw attention. If they see us staring, they'll know we suspect something."
"They already know we suspect something," Yoshiki muttered. "Those machines aren't for 'health checks.' They're searching for something." His fists clenched against his knees. "And they found it."
Yuzuriha's gaze flicked to him, sharp. "What do you mean, found it?"
He exhaled through his nose, hesitating. "The way that scanner reacted… it wasn't random. It was looking at us. Like it knew."
For a moment, none of them spoke. The quiet night pressed around them.
Finally, Yuzuriha broke the silence. "If that's true… then we have to know what it's measuring. I'll get closer tomorrow."
Yoshiki turned to her, eyes wide. "That's too risky."
"Riskier than letting them take us one by one and not knowing why?" she shot back. Her voice wasn't raised, but it carried the weight of conviction. "We can't fight shadows, Yoshiki. We need to see what they're hiding."
Hikaru looked between them, hesitant, then nodded slowly. "If she's right… then tomorrow, I'll help."
"Don't drag yourself into this," Yoshiki snapped.
"I already am," Hikaru replied evenly. "Whether we want it or not, we're marked. You felt it too, didn't you? When the light touched you?"
Yoshiki froze.
He had felt it. The warmth that wasn't warmth, the way the air itself seemed to thrum in his bones during the scan. He'd buried it under his anger, but now Hikaru's words brought it back to the surface.
Yuzuriha leaned forward, her eyes catching the faint reflection of the machines' glow in the distance. "Tomorrow," she repeated softly. "I'll find a way inside their camp."
The three sat in silence after that, the weight of unspoken truths pressing between them. Below, the villagers slept peacefully, unaware.
Above them, the stars burned quietly, witnesses to a secret that was no longer theirs alone.