"Too bad... Someone is coming."
Kirashi flinched at the sound of Hoshi's voice.
Her words sliced through the fading wind with calm precision, sharp enough to make him hesitate. She always had that way of speaking—controlled, composed, yet able to make him second-guess himself without even trying.
Kirashi's gaze lifted toward her. Hoshi now stood atop the car roof, the light breeze tugging at her hair and coat.
Her expression was unreadable, her presence calm yet distant, as if her thoughts were already somewhere far away.
She gave Kirashi a single glance, then casually waved him off with a flick of her wrist.
"See you around."
Her tone was light, but there was something final about it—like a quiet door closing. The air around her stirred, swirling into a controlled gust that lifted her off the vehicle.
Within seconds, she was airborne, her figure carried higher and higher until the horizon swallowed her completely.
Kirashi stood there in silence, his fists slightly clenched. The wind she left behind brushed against his face, carrying a faint echo of her scent and her voice.
Frustration and confusion tangled in his chest—he wanted to say something, to stop her maybe—but before he could even process it, hurried footsteps snapped him back to the present.
Ryujin appeared from behind the wrecked SUV, his coat flaring with each step.
"Dang. She left."
Kirashi turned toward him, the edge of a smirk forming despite his still-tight chest.
"Ryujin, Ryujin, Ryujin..."
His tone was playful, but his eyes carried the tired look of someone masking his irritation behind humor. He stretched his shoulders, forcing a grin.
"Are you gonna replace me already?!"
Ryujin blinked, caught off guard.
"Hah?!"
He stopped mid-step, staring at Kirashi like he'd just spoken another language. The tension in the air melted slightly as the confusion replaced it.
"What do you mean?! No!"
Kirashi sighed dramatically and placed both hands on his hips.
"Okay, thank god!"
Ryujin frowned but shook his head with a half-smile.
"Where the hell did you get that? Anyway, you good?"
Kirashi gave a lazy thumbs-up, his grin returning.
"Yes! I'm okay!"
Ryujin nodded and started walking back toward the vehicle.
"Alright, let's go back. Ayro's starting to get jealous."
Kirashi blinked, tilting his head in disbelief.
"Eh? What?"
Ryujin chuckled, waving a hand dismissively as he walked ahead.
"Haha, it's nothing."
Kirashi sighed, trailing after him with a faint smirk. The faint traces of Hoshi's wind still brushed against the night air, fading slowly—like a goodbye that lingered a little too long.
~~~UWDS Asia HeadQuarters~~~
[May 4, 2169 - 12am]
"Today's progress reports are—"
The UWDS Staff stood at the front of the dim room, adjusting the stack of documents until the edges aligned perfectly. Paper brushed against paper in a soft, dry whisper.
The fluorescent light above flickered with a tired pulse, casting uneven shadows across the long table.
Eight trochanters sat in formation. No one slouched fully. No one relaxed fully. Jackets remained buttoned. Sleeves crisp.
The air carried the faint scent of filtered ventilation and something metallic beneath it—machinery running somewhere deeper in the building.
On the far wall, a digital map of Japan glowed. Regions marked in pale grids. Percentages hovering beside them like quiet verdicts.
The Staff inhaled once.
"Squad Segment 97 advanced further into the Kanto Region, operating just outside Tokyo. Field Men are clearing lower-density Seele clusters while the squad rests. Total coverage now stands at 3% of Kanto Region. Achieved in three days."
A low murmur passed down the table—not loud enough to be conversation. Just acknowledgment.
One trochanter leaned back slowly, leather stretching beneath his shoulders.
"3% in three days..."
He glanced sideways.
"Your squad maintains its pace, Nali."
Nali did not sit back. She remained upright, fingers loosely interlocked on the table. A faint smile touched her lips.
"We adapt quickly."
Across the table, someone quietly cleared their throat. The map screen behind them flickered, the 3% blinking once before stabilizing.
The Staff continued.
"Squad Segment 152 remains within the forested sectors of Tohoku Region. Dense terrain and elevated Seele activity are slowing expansion. They intend to widen their perimeter by evening. Current clearance stands at 2.1% of Tohoku Region."
The Trochanter of Squad 152 slammed his hand lightly on the table, frustrated by the gap.
"0.9% behind."
Not anger. Calculation.
Another trochanter adjusted his glasses.
"Forested terrain was always projected to reduce efficiency."
No one defended. No one excused.
The Staff turned the page deliberately, letting the sound linger.
"Squad Segment 220 pushed further north in Hokkaido. Five additional kilometers secured around Sapporo. Regional clearance now stands at 2.5% of Hokkaido Region."
A quiet nod came from down the table.
"Snow slows men,"
Someone muttered.
"But not them."
A faint, almost humorless exhale answered that.
Another page.
The room felt slightly cooler.
"Squad Segment 330 has suspended operations following the death of Zo. They withdrew east to stabilize and regroup. Field Men are maintaining secured zones. Total clearance stands at 1.4% of Kansai Region."
The fluorescent light gave a sharp flicker. This time it did not immediately steady.
No one moved.
Mugi's hands were clasped on the table. His thumb pressed faintly against his knuckle, once, twice. His reflection trembled slightly in the polished surface.
The silence extended long enough to feel intentional.
He finally spoke, voice even but thinner than before.
"We resume in twenty-four hours."
Across from him, one trochanter lowered his gaze—not sympathy, not avoidance. Just acknowledgment of loss.
The Staff did not rush the next sentence.
"Noted."
The page turned.
"Squad Segment 376 remains engaged in active combat within Chugoku Region. Seele concentrations are unusually aggressive. Clearance stands at 1.4% of Chugoku Region."
A screen shifted to display movement density. Red clusters pulsed faintly across the map.
"They've been active for sixteen continuous hours,"
One trochanter observed quietly.
No comment followed.
"Squad Segment 434 has made no territorial gain in Chubu Region. Seele activity remains high. Current coverage remains at 0.3%."
A chair slid forward slightly.
"Field Men casualties are increasing in that sector,"
The Trochanter of 434 said, fingers drumming once before stilling.
"Wounded transport cycles are tightening."
The ventilation hummed louder for a moment, as if filling the gap.
"Chubu was projected as resistance-heavy,"
Another voice added.
"Projections don't bleed,"
Someone replied.
The map flickered again.
The Staff moved on.
"Squad Segment 660 reports no new expansion in Shikoku Region. Coverage remains at 0.8%."
A quiet sigh slipped from someone near the end of the table.
Final page.
The paper's edge brushed against the podium softly.
"Lastly, Squad Segment 663 engaged in their first operation this evening at Shioizaki Park. Conflict concluded quickly. No injuries reported among squad members or Field Men. Kyushu Region remains at 0% secured."
A brief pause.
No celebration. Just documentation.
The Staff lowered the stack.
"That concludes the reports for May 3rd, 2169."
They bowed.
The door opened with a restrained creak and closed with a weighted thud that echoed longer than expected. The sound rolled across the walls and settled into the room's corners.
Silence followed.
The maps remained illuminated. Percentages steady. Regions breathing faintly in digital pulses.
Mr. Hasegawa leaned forward, hands folding together. The faint slide of fabric against leather sounded louder than it should have.
He let the quiet sit. Long enough to remind them who controlled it.
"The operation continues as scheduled. Let the exhausted rest."
His fingers tapped once against the table.
"But if anyone mistakes leniency for weakness... I will correct that misunderstanding."
No one shifted.
All eight trochanters straightened in perfect synchronization. Chairs responded with a collective creak.
"Roger."
The word landed hard.
Mr. Hasegawa rubbed his ear, a thin smirk touching his mouth.
"You'll rupture the wiring one day."
No one laughed.
Outside the building, a distant siren wailed, then faded. Somewhere deeper in the facility, machinery continued its low mechanical rhythm.
May 4th began without ceremony.
Some squads slept in scattered safe zones, boots still on. Others remained locked in combat, wind, snow, and shattered concrete absorbing the sounds of clashing steel and dying beasts.
Inside the war room, the percentages held.
For now.
~~~To be Continued~~~