The abandoned storehouse sat on the far edge of the village, half-collapsed from years of storms. Its roof sagged, boards warped with moss, but inside, it was their sanctuary. No soldiers patrolled this far; even the villagers avoided it, dismissing it as useless ruin.
A lantern flickered dimly in the corner, its flame muffled beneath cloth so no light leaked through the cracks. Shadows stretched long across the dirt floor.
Yoshiki sat cross-legged near the lantern, fists pressed to his knees. His expression was hard, though the restless tapping of his foot betrayed the storm inside. Across from him, Yuzuriha laid out sheets of parchment scavenged from her family's records, lines of hurried notes and diagrams spreading in front of her.
The door creaked once, then shut quickly. Hikaru slipped in, his breath heavy, hair damp with night mist. His eyes gleamed with a sharpness that stole the air from the room.
"You're late," Yoshiki muttered, though his relief was clear.
Hikaru didn't answer right away. He pulled something from his vest—a folded sheet, smudged with charcoal lines—and set it down between them. His hand lingered on it as though the paper itself carried a weight.
"I saw it," he said quietly. "Not just the patrols. Not just the machines. I saw what they're doing."
Yuzuriha leaned forward. "Show me."
Hikaru unfolded the sheet. It wasn't neat. Lines overlapped where his hand had rushed; patrol arcs crossed the page like spiderwebs. But near the center was a thick black shape, marked with jagged streaks.
"That's the resonance machine," Hikaru said, tapping it. "It… it doesn't just gather energy. It feeds on people."
Yoshiki's head jerked up. "What?"
Hikaru's voice was steady, but his fists were clenched. "I watched them drag a villager out. Tied, beaten. They threw him at the base of that thing. And then…" His throat tightened for a moment. "…it burned him. Not fire. Not electricity. Something worse. It tore the energy right out of him. His screams—" He stopped, forcing his voice to flatten. "When it was done, they carried him away like garbage."
The room went still.
Yuzuriha's hand trembled against the page. Her eyes flicked rapidly across Hikaru's notes, but her voice was hollow. "So that's it… The machines aren't just scanning us. They're harvesting." She pressed her lips together, then spoke more quickly, as if to drown her own fear. "It explains the resonance spikes we saw in their readings. They're using the villagers to fuel their extraction. They want to pull the island's energy straight out of living bodies."
Yoshiki's fists tightened on his knees until his knuckles whitened. "And the government calls this 'research.'" His voice shook with restrained fury. "They've been watching us like lab rats for a hundred years… and now they're feeding us to their machines."
The lantern hissed softly. The silence after was louder than shouting.
Hikaru looked at his friend. "Yoshiki—"
But Yoshiki surged to his feet, pacing across the storehouse. The shadows leapt with his movement, his form too large for the cramped space. He slammed a hand against the wall, rattling loose boards.
"I won't let them do this," he growled. His voice was low, raw. "I don't care if they've got machines, soldiers, or their damn director watching us. I won't let them take another villager."
His shoulders shook. For a moment, the anger looked too big for him, threatening to consume him from the inside.
Yuzuriha rose as well, calm but firm. "Think, Yoshiki. If you charge in now, you'll only give them what they want. They'll break you—worse, they'll use you." Her eyes glinted in the lantern light, sharp and unwavering. "We need to understand more before we act. We need to plan."
Yoshiki spun toward her, his breath ragged. "While we 'plan,' people are suffering. Did you not hear what Hikaru just said? They're killing us like we're nothing!"
His voice cracked, not from weakness, but from the sheer weight of rage.
Hikaru stood slowly. His expression was calm, but his eyes were dark, troubled. "Yoshiki… I hate it too. I wanted to leap out and stop them, but I couldn't. Not yet." He met his friend's gaze. "If you go alone, you'll die. And then who's left to fight?"
The words struck, but Yoshiki's chest still heaved with each breath. He turned away, gripping his hair in both hands, teeth grinding.
The lantern flame guttered once, then steadied. In that wavering light, Yuzuriha's voice softened. "I know it hurts. I know it feels like waiting makes us cowards. But think about what your grandfather told you. Think about why you've trained all these years. It wasn't to die in one reckless charge."
Yoshiki froze. His grandfather's words echoed—warnings about outsiders, promises that one day Yoshiki would have to stand.
He lowered his hands slowly. But his body still trembled, not with fear, but with something hotter, heavier.
Yuzuriha stepped closer, her hand hovering near his arm but not touching. "We'll face them. But we face them together. Not until we're ready."
Yoshiki's head bowed. For a long moment, he said nothing. His chest rose and fell like a bellows, every breath rough.
Then—
A faint glow flickered beneath his skin.
Hikaru's eyes widened. "Yoshiki…"
Yuzuriha stepped back, her own breath catching. The glow spread across his forearms, veins of ember light crawling beneath his skin like molten cracks. His fists clenched, and sparks hissed from between his fingers.
The air grew hotter, the lantern flame whipping as if caught in a sudden wind. Shadows stretched long across the walls.
Yoshiki's voice was low, almost a growl. "…Then tell me why I can feel this fire inside me now. Tell me why it won't wait."
The glow brightened, flames licking across his arms. The ember veins pulsed with each heartbeat, faster, stronger—until the heat filled the room like a forge about to burst.
The trio's eyes locked, breathless.
And then—
The storehouse filled with light.