As Squad Segment 663, along with Jayu and Aldrin, bids farewell to Kaba Island, their weary vessel cuts through the darkened waves.
The sea, once a cradle of escape, now churns with fury, a howling tempest clawing at their fragile craft.
Wind-whipped rain lashes against their skin, salt and fear mingling in the air. Each crest they climb feels like the last, each trough a hungry abyss waiting to swallow them whole.
The stars hide behind a veil of stormclouds, and the horizon is lost to chaos. How far can a boat so small defy a sea so vast?
Inside the cramped deck of the little boat, the squad rests—if one could call it that. Silence looms heavy, yet it speaks louder than words.
The only sounds that dare to break through are the deep, rhythmic crashes of the sea and the heavy raindrops drumming against the worn wood above.
Each drop echoes like a whisper of doubt, each wave a reminder of how fragile they are against the vastness of the storm.
Shadows flicker in the dim light, their breaths shallow, their bodies weary, as the sea decides their fate beyond these thin, creaking walls.
In the hush where silence roars the loudest, Kirashi dared to stir it—
weaving words into the void, an attempt to kindle warmth in the cold, unspoken gloom.
"We were lucky to find this boat left on the island, huh..."
Aldrin chuckled as he steered the boat through the waves.
"Yes, indeed. I couldn't even check how much fuel this thing had. If we run out in the middle of the sea, we're doomed."
Kirashi sneered nervously.
"Ah, yeah?.. Haha, let's not jinx that."
From his seat, Itoshi wondered aloud.
"Who could've left this boat out here though..."
Kirashi leaned toward him from the opposite bench.
"I know, right? It's quite convenient."
Once again, silence settled over the squad—thick, unbroken, heavy with exhaustion.
Jayu sat quietly beside Kara, the rhythm of the storm their only companion.
With a gentle touch, her left hand reached for the frail, blue-haired girl's hood, fingers clutching the fabric as if tethering herself to something certain.
A silent call. A wordless beckon. Seeking warmth in the cold—connection in the void.
"Yes? Jayu-chan? You need something?"
"It was him..."
Jayu answered.
Kirashi and Itoshi turned their gaze toward her.
"H-Him?.."
Kara tilted her head.
"My Guardian Angel... He made that shield... So I wouldn't get wet from the rain."
Everyone listened to Jayu and Kara's sweet exchange.
Itoshi let out a soft chuckle at her words, then walked over and gently patted her head.
"That's right... It was your Guardian Angel."
~~~Tokyo, Japan~~~
"After weeks of mystery and no answers, the recent Japan Airlines Flight 20042169 has finally been found. Investigators using advanced radar-tracking technology have managed to locate the missing aircraft."
In a dimly lit bar tucked away in the neon veins of Tokyo, the low hum of conversation dwindled as the news played on a flickering television above the counter.
The anchor's steady yet grave voice filled the room, recounting the chilling disappearance of Flight 20042169.
A few patrons, glasses half-raised, paused mid-sip.
The bartender, polishing a glass with absent-minded strokes, glanced at the screen.
Ice clinked as someone set their drink down—eyes narrowing in quiet disbelief.
"Heh. It's finally been found, huh."
The bartender clicked his tongue a few times before another man replied.
"A plane suddenly disappearing, huh? I wonder how it disappeared."
"With recent satellite imagery, photos revealed that the plane crashed through Kaba Island around 1:40 a.m. on April 7th, 2169. Details suggest it hit massive turbulence—possibly even a flock of shorebirds migrating that fateful evening."
"Years of my life and I've never heard of shorebirds migrating at night."
The bartender scoffed.
A man with a thick Russian accent approached the counter, speaking in English.
"Can I have some vodka?"
"何杯いる? (How many cups do you want?)"
the bartender asked.
"Hah? Ah..."
The man tapped the back of his neck a few times—and suddenly, he could understand.
"一本で十分.(A bottle will do.)"
The bartender nodded.
"Coming right up."
"Thank you so much... Ah, may I ask?"
The Russian man hushed.
"Yeah?"
"Is it allowed to smoke inside the bar?"
"Do you see a No Smoking sign?"
The bartender shot back with dry sarcasm.
The Russian chuckled.
"Ok, old man."
"Out of the 122 passengers and 26 crew on board, no souls are reported to have survived. Authorities are still working on recovery efforts. Due to the storm currently ravaging the area, a full investigation has been delayed."
"Hah. Tokyo's one of the most advanced cities in the world... yet its authorities only managed to find one missing plane after a month."
The Russian man scoffed with a smile.
The bartender served him the bottle as he muttered,
"That's the seventh flight to reportedly 'crash' in that area."
"Seems like Okinawa has a curse,"
Another patron murmured.
"I know, right? Seven flights in three months—all disappearing. Something's definitely out there."
The bartender nodded.
The Russian man laughed, low and sharp. The others glanced at him.
"Instead of yapping and making theories, why don't you guys check it out for yourselves?"
The bartender shook his head, calmly avoiding the bait.
"That's not my concern."
"Oi, watch your mouth,"
The other patron snapped.
The Russian smirked at his reaction.
"What's your deal anyway? What's an assassin like you doing here?"
The patron barked.
The Russian's smile faded.
"Hoh? So you know..."
"You're Yuri, right? Who's your target? Who sent you, you stinky old timer?"
The bartender crossed his arms, eyes closed.
"Oh boy. You two better not start a ruckus in my bar, or I'll kick you both out."
"Hoho! Seems like the rookies of UWDS are getting ahead of themselves."
The wind within the bar howled with a restless fervor—swirling between clinking glasses and hushed whispers, mirroring the storm brewing between Yuri and the UWDS member.
Tension crackled like distant thunder, every glance a spark ready to ignite.
The dim lights flickered, caught in the invisible tempest of their unyielding stares, while the world held its breath—waiting for the storm to break.
The bartender sighed and extended his hand.
"Disruption."
Suddenly, the oppressive heat vanished.
The air, thick moments ago with rising hostility, fell deathly still. Then came his voice—calm, measured, absolute.
With one word, the storm was sealed away, leaving only silence in its wake.
Both Yuri and the UWDS member froze, eyes wide.
"A Disruption spell?!"
They thought in unison.
Yuri turned to the bartender.
"What a strong spell you've got, old man. You shouldn't be in a bar."
"I told you—I'll kick you out if you start trouble. And to answer your question, it's the kind of life I want. Don't touch it."
The bell above the door jingled as the UWDS member stepped out.
A cold draft followed, snuffing out the last of the heat.
Yuri watched the swaying door, the silence heavier than before.
"So that's the future of UWDS, huh?"
The bartender scoffed.
"Haha... Look at them. Who once stood so proud."
Yuri laughed.
~~~Somewhere in the sea between Kaba and Naru island~~~
Ayro coughed, his breath ragged as he woke from his slumber. The boat rocked gently beneath him, the scent of salt and damp wood filling his lungs.
"What the hell is that s-smell?"
"Ayro!"
Kirashi, Kara, and Itoshi called out.
"Why are you guys so loud? Jeez..."
Ayro muttered as he scratched the back of his head.
"Are you okay?!"
They asked.
He replied, strained.
"Yeah... I'm fine. My back isn't though..."
Ayro noticed that Ryujin was nowhere to be seen.
"Where is Ryujin?"
He asked as he tried to stand, but the wound on his back sent a sharp pain through his body, forcing him back to his knees. Kirashi, sitting nearby, quickly caught him before he could fall.
"Woah! You should rest first. Your wound's not well patched up—you'll still bleed a lot. Ryujin-san's outside, guarding us."
"In this storm?..."
Kirashi couldn't find the words, but his actions spoke for him. With quiet care, he helped Ayro sit back down, easing him against the deck wall.
Jayu sat nearby, her small hands resting in her lap, eyes wide with silent, focused curiosity.
She had been watching everything since they boarded—watching and learning, like she always did. Her gaze lingered on Ayro's wound, the dark stain still visible beneath his torn uniform.
Without a word, she got to her feet. Her movements were soft, like she was afraid to disrupt the fragile calm in the room.
She crossed the narrow space and knelt in front of Ayro, her brows furrowed in concentration.
Gently, Jayu placed her hands on Ayro's thigh. Her fingers were small, but they settled with surprising confidence.
A subtle hum rose in the air around her—an unseen pulse of energy that stirred the air like heat waves off summer pavement.
"Hmmpp!"
Ayro flinched slightly as a sharp tingle ran up his leg, but it was quickly followed by warmth—soothing, soft, and deep.
The pain dulled, then ebbed completely, like a curtain of fog lifting from his muscles.
"Uhh... Um... ah! T-Thank you..."
A beat of silence.
Itoshi, Kara, and even Hachi blinked in unison. Then—
"Ehh?!"
Ayro smiled weakly as he looked at his teammates.
"She can use a healing spell."
"M-Mama taught me that... She told me it would help people who are in need..."
Jayu replied softly, her tone shy but sincere.
Ayro looked at her with quiet gratitude. He raised a hand and gently patted her head, his touch full of warmth and respect.
"You helped more than you think. Thanks, Jayu."
Jayu's eyes lit up just a little, her expression softening. She gave a tiny, proud nod and returned to her seat without another word, the effort clearly having taken something out of her.
The rest of the squad exchanged glances in the dim light of the deck's interior. The storm continued to roar outside, but in that small space—for just a moment—there was something peaceful. Like hope had taken root in the quiet.
~~~To be Continued~~~