Arzachel Lunar Base
Arzachel was quiet.
Too quiet.
A month had passed since the incident—since the explosions, the confusion, the fighting that should have shaken the Earth Sphere. Yet no rumors circulated. No leaked footage. No half-baked conspiracy threads whispered through military channels.
Someone had buried it.
Official reports spoke only of "internal system failures" and "temporary ceasefire violations." Librarian Works was never mentioned. Captain Marcus Hale's name appeared only in a short casualty list, buried among dozens of others.
The Moon kept its secrets well.
---
Arzachel — Military Hangar Sector
The Beowulf rested inside the cavernous hangar, its massive hull scarred and half-dismantled as engineers swarmed over it. Cranes moved slowly, replacing armor plates, refueling reactors, reloading supplies.
A beast at rest.
Kyousuke Asagi walked along the deck in silence, hands tucked into the pockets of his flight jacket. He had become like this over the past month—quiet, efficient, speaking only when necessary.
Not withdrawn.
Just… economical.
People noticed.
No one commented.
He stopped briefly, looking up at his Strike Dagger, still undergoing repairs. New plating gleamed where old scars had been burned away. It looked almost new.
Kyousuke felt nothing about that.
Scars mattered only when you remembered how you got them.
"Didn't think I'd see you here."
The voice came from behind him.
Kyousuke froze—just for a fraction of a second—before turning.
"…Emily?"
Emily Varrot stood a few meters away, arms folded loosely, dark-blue ZAFT-issued jacket draped casually over her shoulders. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, her posture sharper—but the smile was the same.
For a moment, time slipped.
Training days.
Shared simulators.
Late-night maintenance shifts and bad coffee.
"Wow," she said, eyes widening slightly. "You really are here."
Kyousuke nodded once. "Didn't think I'd see you either."
She laughed softly. "Guess we both ended up somewhere we didn't plan."
A pause settled between them—not awkward, but heavy with things neither needed to say.
Emily studied him more closely now. "You've changed."
Kyousuke shrugged. "War does that."
She didn't push.
Instead, she straightened slightly. "I'm stationed here. Mobile Suit unit attached to lunar defense."
Kyousuke blinked. "You're a pilot now?"
"Captain, actually," she corrected gently, tapping the insignia on her collar.
That earned a genuine reaction.
"…Captain?" Kyousuke repeated, a faint surprise breaking through his calm.
Emily grinned. "Yeah. Took a while. And a lot of luck."
"Congratulations," he said honestly. "You always were better than you let on."
Her smile softened.
Then she hesitated.
"There's something else," she said, carefully. "You probably already know."
Kyousuke nodded before she finished. "Cody."
Emily exhaled in relief. "So he told you."
"No," Kyousuke replied. "I just figured."
She tilted her head. "You're… okay with it?"
Kyousuke looked past her for a moment, at the Beowulf's massive hull, at the Moon beyond the hangar wall.
"I knew it would happen back then," he said quietly. "He was always better at being there than I was."
Emily searched his face, expecting bitterness.
She found none.
"That doesn't hurt?" she asked softly.
Kyousuke considered the question.
"It used to," he said. "A long time ago."
He met her eyes again.
"But things change. People change."
And I did too, he didn't say.
Emily nodded slowly. "Cody talks about you sometimes. He worries."
Kyousuke gave a small smile. "Tell him I'm still alive."
"I will."
Another pause.
Then Emily extended a hand.
"It's good to see you again, Kyousuke."
He took it—brief, firm.
"You too, Captain Varrot."
She laughed. "You don't have to call me that."
"Yes," he said calmly, releasing her hand. "I do."
Emily watched him walk away, his figure framed by the towering machines and drifting engineers.
There was something different about him now.
Not colder.
Just… anchored.
---
Later — Observation Deck
Kyousuke stood alone, looking out at the lunar surface bathed in pale light.
Emily.
Cody.
A life that might have been.
He felt no regret.
Only clarity.
The war had taken many things from him—but it had also stripped away illusions he no longer needed.
Kyousuke Asagi remained silent, yes.
But not because he had nothing to say.
Because now, every word had weight.
And somewhere beyond Arzachel, beyond buried truths and hidden wars, Librarian Works was still moving.
When they crossed paths again—
Kyousuke would be ready.
The conversation with Emily ended naturally.
A few polite words. A shared silence. Nothing forced.
Kyousuke Asagi turned to leave, boots echoing softly against the metal deck as he headed toward the corridor leading back to Beowulf's assigned berth.
"Kyousuke."
The voice stopped him.
He turned slowly.
For a heartbeat, he didn't recognize the man walking toward him.
The uniform was unmistakably OMNI Enforcer—pressed, clean, worn with the confidence of someone who belonged in it. The man wearing it was taller than Kyousuke remembered, posture straight, eyes sharp behind thin-framed glasses that no longer felt out of place.
Then he smiled.
The same smile.
"…Cody," Kyousuke said.
Cody McCain laughed, a hand lifting in an easy wave. "Damn. You really are hard to find these days."
Behind him came familiar faces—old squadmates, academy friends, people Kyousuke had once studied and trained with before the war scattered them across factions and fronts.
Cody slipped an arm around Emily's waist without hesitation, pulling her close with an unspoken claim.
A gesture.
A quiet declaration.
Some of the others glanced at Kyousuke, tension flickering in their eyes—expecting something.
Anger.
Jealousy.
A crack.
Kyousuke looked at them all for a moment.
Then he nodded once.
"It's good," he said simply. "You're all okay."
That was it.
No bitterness.
No forced smile.
No edge.
The group froze.
Emily blinked. "Kyousuke…"
Cody's grin faltered just a little. "That's… all you've got?"
Kyousuke shrugged. "What else would I say?"
He met Cody's eyes—steady, clear.
"You look different," Kyousuke continued. "Healthier. Guess the uniform suits you."
Cody searched his face, waiting for the sting that never came.
"…You've changed," Cody said quietly.
Kyousuke nodded. "Yeah."
The silence stretched—then eased.
One of the others laughed awkwardly. "Well. This is… not how I thought this would go."
Kyousuke allowed the faintest curve to touch his lips. "People rarely get what they expect."
Before anyone could respond, a firm, familiar voice cut in.
"Asagi."
Kyousuke turned.
Captain Helena Brandt approached, her coat swaying slightly as she walked, datapad tucked under her arm.
"It's time for your physique checkup," she said briskly. "Medical's already complaining that you keep skipping meals."
Kyousuke sighed quietly. "Yes, ma'am."
Brandt's gaze shifted to the small group gathered nearby, assessing them in a single, efficient glance.
"And who are these?" she asked.
Kyousuke gestured lightly toward Cody and the others.
"Colleagues," he said. "From before."
Brandt nodded once. "I see."
Her eyes lingered on Cody's uniform insignia, then on Emily's rank.
"Try not to start an inter-faction incident in my hangar," Brandt added dryly.
Cody chuckled. "No promises, Captain."
Brandt's eyebrow twitched. "That was not a joke."
Kyousuke turned back to the group.
"Take care," he said. "All of you."
Emily opened her mouth—then closed it again, settling for a quiet nod.
Cody watched Kyousuke walk away, hands in his pockets, back straight, steps unhurried.
"…He's not angry," Cody said slowly.
Emily shook her head. "No."
She looked after Kyousuke's retreating figure.
"He's already somewhere else."
---
Corridor — Toward Beowulf Medical Bay
Brandt walked beside Kyousuke in silence for a few steps.
"You handled that well," she said at last.
Kyousuke replied evenly, "There was nothing to handle."
Brandt glanced at him. "Most people would disagree."
Kyousuke didn't slow.
"Most people," he said quietly, "haven't buried enough to know what really matters."
Brandt said nothing more.
As the doors to the medical bay slid open, Kyousuke stepped forward—unchanged by the encounter, unshaken by the past.
Old bonds remained.
But they no longer defined him.
The war had carved him into something leaner, quieter, and far harder to move.
And as Kyousuke Asagi disappeared into the Beowulf's corridors once more, one truth was undeniable:
He no longer needed to prove anything—to anyone.
The infirmary buzzed with noise and complaints.
"Again? We just did this last month."
"Hey, doc, do we really need to take everything off?"
"Regulations, buddy. Regulations."
Rows of OMNI personnel stood waiting for their scheduled physique checkups—mostly pilots and crew rotated in from frontline duty. Uniforms lay folded on benches as medics and nurses moved briskly with datapads and scanners.
For many of the men, it had turned into an unspoken contest.
Sleeves rolled up.
Jackets shrugged off.
Biceps flexed just a little too deliberately.
"Looks like Mr. Olympia auditions in here," someone muttered.
At the center of it, Commander Isaac Rowan stepped forward when his name was called.
"Alright, alright," Rowan said with a grin as he peeled off his uniform jacket and undershirt.
The reaction was immediate.
His body was broad and powerfully built, skin tanned from years of deployment. Dense muscle layered with function rather than vanity—corded arms, thick shoulders, and a torso crossed with old scars that told stories no one asked aloud.
"Show-off," someone whistled.
Rowan laughed. "Jealousy doesn't burn calories."
Nearby, Leo Vargas followed, a bit sheepish as he removed his uniform. He was leaner, lighter-built—still fit, but clearly younger, less hardened.
"Hey, I'm still growing!" Leo protested as a few chuckles went around.
More followed—pilots, crew, soldiers—each in their own way a testament to life under constant gravity shifts, combat strain, and relentless training.
It was loud.
Casual.
Almost festive.
Then—
"Asagi Kyousuke."
The name cut through the noise.
Kyousuke stepped forward quietly.
He had been standing near the wall, hands in his pockets, saying nothing. He moved without hurry, eyes calm, expression unreadable.
He began removing his uniform.
Jacket.
Gloves.
Undershirt.
The infirmary went silent.
Not the awkward kind.
The stunned kind.
Kyousuke's body was… different.
Not bulky like Rowan's.
Not lean like Vargas'.
It was balanced—every muscle defined, sculpted with precision rather than excess. His frame was athletic, powerful without appearing heavy, strength distributed perfectly from shoulders to core to legs.
And the scars.
Thin lines along his ribs.
A faded burn across one shoulder.
Old marks that spoke of survival rather than recklessness.
Someone swallowed audibly.
Across the room, Captain Helena Brandt froze mid-step.
Her coffee slipped.
"—!"
The cup tilted, dark liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim before she caught it, staring openly now.
"…Since when," her mind whispered, has Asagi looked like that?
At the doorway, Emily Varrot had stopped dead.
Her thoughts tangled instantly.
Since when…?
Training days, he was slim—quiet—when did—?
Even Cody blinked, genuinely caught off guard.
Rowan burst out laughing.
"HAHA! I KNEW IT!"
Heads snapped toward him.
Rowan clapped Kyousuke on the shoulder, pride clear in his voice. "I told you all. Kid's been forged, not trained."
Kyousuke didn't react much—just stood there calmly as the scanner passed over him.
One of the female nurses stepped closer, tablet in hand… then hesitated.
"Oh—um—sorry, I just need to check muscle tension and—"
She flushed faintly, clearly flustered despite her professionalism.
Kyousuke looked at her, voice even, almost gentle.
"It's okay," he said.
"Just touch it, nurse. It won't bite."
A beat.
Then—
The nurse coughed, face reddening as she refocused. "R-right. Thank you."
Rowan snickered.
Vargas covered his mouth, failing to hide a grin.
Brandt turned away, clearing her throat far too loudly.
"Medical professionalism," she muttered. "Yes. Of course."
Kyousuke stood there without embarrassment, without pride—simply present, as if his body were just another piece of equipment maintained by necessity.
When the scan finished, the nurse nodded quickly.
"Excellent condition. No anomalies. Cleared for duty."
Kyousuke retrieved his uniform calmly, beginning to dress as the noise slowly returned to the room.
Whispers followed him now.
"Did you know he was built like that?"
"No."
"War really does things to people…"
Rowan watched Kyousuke with a wide grin.
"Welcome to the club," he said. "Didn't know you were already a lifetime member."
Kyousuke paused just long enough to reply.
"I never joined," he said quietly.
"I just survived."
And as the infirmary returned to its chaotic rhythm, one thing was clear to everyone present—
Kyousuke Asagi had changed.
Not loudly.
Not visibly at first.
But deeply enough that even silence couldn't hide it anymore.
The noise in the infirmary slowly returned.
Laughs resumed.
Comments followed.
Someone somewhere flexed again.
But the center had already moved.
Kyousuke Asagi finished pulling his uniform back on, movements unhurried, precise. Fabric settled over muscle and scars alike, hiding what moments ago had silenced a room.
To him, nothing had changed.
To everyone else, something clearly had.
Rowan crossed his arms, still grinning. "You know, kid," he said, loud enough for half the room to hear, "if Hale were still around, he'd be laughing his ass off right now."
Kyousuke paused for half a breath.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "He would."
The grin on Rowan's face softened, pride replacing humor.
Leo Vargas leaned in, stage-whispering, "S-so… do you train like that every day, or—"
"No," Kyousuke replied, already turning away. "Only when I'm alive."
Leo blinked. "That… didn't answer anything."
---
Near the Infirmary Entrance
Captain Helena Brandt stood aside, datapad in hand, pretending very hard to be absorbed in post-checkup reports. The coffee cup rested safely on a nearby table now—untouched.
She cleared her throat.
"Asagi."
Kyousuke stopped and turned.
"Yes, ma'am."
Brandt studied him—not his body this time, but his posture, his eyes. The way he stood as if gravity itself had agreed to accommodate him.
"You've been pushing yourself," she said evenly. "Physique like that doesn't come from standard training schedules."
Kyousuke didn't deny it.
"I needed something to hold," he said simply.
Brandt nodded once.
"See that it doesn't become the only thing you rely on."
"I won't," Kyousuke replied. "People already paid for that mistake."
Brandt's gaze sharpened—then softened.
"…Dismissed."
Kyousuke inclined his head and moved past her.
---
Infirmary — A Few Steps Behind
Emily Varrot remained where she was, hands clenched loosely at her sides.
She hadn't said a word since Kyousuke's name was called.
Since when…?
Her mind kept replaying old memories—academy days, late nights studying while Kyousuke dozed off over manuals, the quiet boy who smiled awkwardly and never talked about himself.
That body didn't come from confidence.
It came from endurance.
From surviving things no one else had seen.
She swallowed.
Cody… didn't see this version of him.
And that realization unsettled her far more than she expected.
Cody noticed her silence.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Emily nodded, forcing a small smile. "Yeah. Just… surprised."
Cody glanced toward the exit where Kyousuke had disappeared.
"…He really is different," he said.
Emily didn't answer.
---
Corridor — Outside the Medical Wing
Kyousuke walked alone.
The hum of the base surrounded him, distant and steady. He adjusted the collar of his uniform, fingers brushing briefly against old scars beneath the fabric.
No pride.
No shame.
Just confirmation.
I'm still here.
A memory surfaced unbidden—Marcus Hale's voice, calm and rough.
> You adapt.
Kyousuke exhaled slowly.
"I did," he murmured.
And somewhere deep inside, something settled—not grief, not anger, but resolve hardened by time.
Librarian Works was still moving.
Arzachel was still compromised.
The war was far from over.
But Kyousuke Asagi no longer carried his past like an open wound.
He carried it like armor.
And when he stepped back onto the Beowulf's deck, eyes forward, shoulders squared, there was no doubt left in anyone who watched him go—
The quiet pilot who survived had become someone the war itself would soon have to reckon with.
Arzachel Lunar Base — Main Hangar
The hangar stretched wide and deep, a cathedral of steel and light.
Kyousuke Asagi walked alone along the marked pathway, boots echoing softly against the deck. The air smelled of coolant, lubricant, and hot metal—familiar, grounding. Overhead cranes crawled along rails, carrying armor plates like offerings to sleeping giants.
A Nelson-class ship dominated one side of the hangar, its hull partially stripped, scaffolding wrapped around it like exposed ribs.
"Retrofit phase," a technician's voice echoed nearby. "She'll come out meaner than before."
Kyousuke barely glanced at it.
His eyes were drawn instead to the Mobile Suit lineup arranged along the far wall—machines standing shoulder to shoulder, silent and imposing.
A history lesson in steel.
GAT-01A1 Dagger / 105 Dagger — fitted with a variant mission pack, its modular hardpoints already swapped twice judging by the scuffs.
GAT-04 + AQM/E-X01 Aile Windam — sleek, aggressive, wings folded neatly like a bird of prey at rest.
GAT-02L2 + AQM/E-M11 Doppelhorn Dagger L — heavier, broader, built for sustained firepower rather than elegance.
Kyousuke slowed his steps.
At the end of the row—
What remained of Marcus Hale's Duel Dagger.
The wreckage had been arranged carefully. Not repaired. Not scrapped.
Just… preserved.
The torso armor was torn open, edges warped and blackened. Scorch marks traced where the fatal shot had pierced through. Technicians had cleaned it, but they hadn't erased the damage.
Kyousuke stopped.
He didn't salute.
He didn't bow.
He simply stood there, silent, for several long seconds.
I'm still here, he thought again.
Just like you told me to be.
He moved on.
Two Gundams stood apart from the rest, unmistakable even among elite machines.
The first was painted in a striking, customized scheme—
GAT-X133 Sword Calamity Gundam.
Its massive anti-ship sword rested magnetically along its back, armor lines sharper and more aggressive than standard Earth Alliance designs. The color scheme was refined—bold but controlled, unmistakably personal.
The second stood beside it, equally distinct.
GAT-X105E Strike E.
Cody McCain's colors.
The machine looked clean, almost pristine, as if its pilot favored precision over brute force. The Striker pack mounts gleamed under the hangar lights, meticulously maintained.
Kyousuke stopped between the two Gundams.
"So you found it."
He turned.
Emily Varrot stood a few steps behind him, hands clasped behind her back, expression calm but attentive.
"That's yours," Kyousuke said, nodding toward the Sword Calamity.
She smiled faintly. "Yeah."
She walked up beside him, looking up at her machine with a familiarity that spoke of long hours spent inside its cockpit.
"Sword Calamity was never meant to be subtle," Emily said. "High-output frame, close-quarters dominance, overwhelming offense."
She glanced at Kyousuke.
"Perfect for someone who doesn't like retreating."
Kyousuke huffed softly. "Sounds like you."
Emily chuckled. "Maybe."
She rested a hand against the Gundam's leg armor.
"I repainted it after my promotion," she continued. "Didn't want it to feel like just another weapon. Needed it to feel… mine."
Kyousuke studied the machine again.
"It suits you," he said simply.
Emily blinked, then smiled—genuinely this time.
"I was wondering what you'd say."
She hesitated, then nodded toward the Strike E. "Cody's. He treats it like a thesis paper—always refining, always testing. Still a bookworm, just with more explosions."
Kyousuke nodded. "Figures."
They stood there in silence for a moment, surrounded by machines built for war, each one reflecting the person who would someday pilot it.
Emily broke the quiet.
"You know," she said, carefully, "when I heard about the Arzachel incident… your name came up. Not officially."
Kyousuke didn't react.
"But people noticed," she continued. "A Strike Dagger holding the line against Librarian units. A pilot who didn't panic when everything went wrong."
She looked at him sideways. "That was you, wasn't it?"
Kyousuke's gaze remained on Hale's wreckage at the far end of the hangar.
"Someone had to," he said.
Emily followed his eyes, understanding dawning in silence.
"…I'm sorry," she said softly.
Kyousuke shook his head. "Don't be."
He turned to face her fully.
"We're still here," he said. "That's what matters."
Emily studied him—really studied him now—and felt the same realization she'd felt earlier in the infirmary.
This wasn't the Kyousuke she'd known.
This was someone forged.
"…If we sortie together someday," she said, "I hope we're on the same side."
Kyousuke allowed a small, rare smile.
"So do I."
Above them, the hangar lights dimmed slightly as shift rotation changed.
Steel giants waited in silence.
And among them, Kyousuke Asagi walked on—past memory, past expectation—toward whatever battle the war would demand next.
Arzachel Lunar Base — Main Hangar (Later)
The hangar lights shifted to night-cycle tones, casting long shadows beneath the Mobile Suits. Engineers thinned out, their voices fading into the background hum of generators and life-support systems. What remained was the quiet—steel breathing, reactors idling, the Moon listening.
Emily rested her arms against the railing, eyes still on her Sword Calamity Gundam.
"You know," she said, breaking the silence, "when I first got this unit, I hated it."
Kyousuke glanced at her. "Because of the name?"
"Because of what it represented," Emily replied. "Power without restraint. A machine built to end fights by overwhelming everything in front of it." She exhaled. "I was afraid I'd start relying on that."
Kyousuke nodded. "Weapons make decisions easier. That's the dangerous part."
Emily smiled faintly. "You always did think too much."
He didn't deny it.
They walked slowly along the line of Mobile Suits. The Aile Windam reflected the hangar lights like a blade; the Doppelhorn Dagger L looked stubborn and dependable. Kyousuke's steps slowed again when they passed Hale's wreckage, but he didn't stop this time.
Progress, he supposed, came in small distances.
"I heard," Emily said carefully, "that Beowulf's combat wing is being restructured."
Kyousuke's eyes flicked toward her. "Word travels fast."
"Too fast," she agreed. "People are nervous. Librarian Works doesn't leave loose ends. And Arzachel…" She trailed off. "Whatever they took, they'll use."
Kyousuke thought of the calm voices over open comms. Of data turned into decisions. Of Hale stepping in front of him without hesitation.
"They'll come back," he said. "Not for the base. For people."
Emily studied him. "For you?"
He met her gaze. "Maybe."
She didn't look away.
"Then don't fight alone," she said. "Not this time."
Kyousuke considered that—truly considered it. He had learned to endure alone. He had learned to survive. But endurance wasn't victory.
"I won't," he said. "If the lines allow it."
Emily smiled. "They rarely do."
A voice crackled over the hangar intercom.
> "Attention all pilots. Briefing in thirty minutes. Beowulf wing, priority attendance."
Kyousuke straightened. "That's me."
Emily nodded. "And me—different room, different flags."
They turned toward opposite corridors, then paused.
"Kyousuke," Emily said. "Back then… you didn't miss your chance."
He looked back at her.
"You just chose a harder road," she continued. "I think you always knew that."
Kyousuke's expression softened—just a little.
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe I just didn't know how to stop."
Emily laughed quietly. "You still don't."
"No," he agreed. "But now I know why."
They parted without ceremony.
---
Beowulf — Briefing Room
The room filled quickly: Rowan, arms crossed and steady; Maya Feld, eyes sharp; Leo Vargas, nervous but determined. Captain Helena Brandt stood at the head, hands braced on the table.
Kyousuke took his seat. The hum of conversation died down as the display activated.
"Arzachel remains operational," Brandt began. "Officially. Unofficially, we are missing data, hardware, and time."
A schematic pulsed—routes, blind spots, anomalies.
"Librarian Works didn't just test us," Brandt continued. "They mapped us."
Rowan's jaw tightened. "Then we change the map."
Brandt nodded. "Exactly."
Her eyes found Kyousuke. "Asagi. Your reactions during the incident—your adaptability—put you on the short list."
Kyousuke didn't flinch. "For what, ma'am?"
"For contact," Brandt said evenly. "When they come back."
Silence held for a beat.
Maya exhaled. "Figures."
Leo swallowed. "We've got your back."
Kyousuke looked around the table—at people who had bled with him, covered for him, pulled him out when he faltered.
"Then I'll do my part," he said. "No more. No less."
Brandt inclined her head. "That's all I ask."
---
Final Beat of the Scene
Later, as Kyousuke walked back toward the hangar, he passed the line of machines once more. He didn't stop this time. He didn't need to.
Steel waited.
The Moon waited.
So did the enemy.
And Kyousuke Asagi—quiet, composed, and no longer alone—kept walking forward, ready for the next page the war would force him to write.
Transit Window: Earthbound
The order came quietly.
No ceremony.
No fanfare.
Just a line of text on the Beowulf's internal board, followed by Captain Brandt's calm, unmistakable voice.
> "Beowulf ground detachment will deploy to Earth. North America Base. Departure in six hours."
Kyousuke Asagi read it twice, then closed the terminal.
Earth.
It had been a long time since he'd felt gravity press down on him for more than a few hours at a time.
---
Hangar — Pre-Departure
The Beowulf's hangar was alive again.
Cargo pallets were secured. Mobile Suits were locked into atmospheric-capable cradles. The sharp smell of propellant replaced the sterile chill of lunar vacuum operations.
Rowan stood with his arms crossed, watching technicians work.
"North America, huh," he muttered. "Humidity. Mud. Bad coffee."
Maya Feld smirked. "You say that like space is comfortable."
Leo Vargas looked nervous. "I've… never done a full atmospheric deployment."
Rowan clapped him on the shoulder. "Then congratulations. You're about to hate weather."
Kyousuke listened, silent as usual, gaze drifting across the hangar—until he noticed something missing.
His Strike Dagger wasn't there.
Instead, a larger silhouette stood where his unit usually rested.
He stopped walking.
---
Hangar — Lower Bay
Captain Helena Brandt was already there, hands behind her back, watching technicians finish final checks on a Mobile Suit painted in standard OMNI colors.
Heavier.
Broader.
Built for endurance.
Kyousuke recognized it instantly.
"…Dagger L," he said.
Brandt nodded. "GAT-02L2 Dagger L."
The machine's armor was thicker than the Strike Dagger's, its frame reinforced for sustained combat. Hardpoints along its shoulders and waist spoke of heavier weapon loadouts, designed for ground warfare and prolonged engagements rather than high-speed interception.
Kyousuke took a slow step closer.
"So it's official," he said quietly.
Brandt turned to face him. "It is."
She studied him for a moment, then spoke plainly.
"You won't be piloting the Strike Dagger anymore."
Kyousuke didn't argue. He had already felt it—during Artemis, during Arzachel. The Strike Dagger had kept him alive, but it had also been pushed to its limits.
"And the Beowulf?" he asked.
"She stays in lunar orbit," Brandt replied. "Command needs a rapid-response anchor up there. I'll remain aboard."
She paused.
"I'll be planetside in three days, once the transition is stable."
Kyousuke inclined his head. "Understood."
Brandt's gaze softened—just slightly.
"The Dagger L suits you," she continued. "It's not flashy. It doesn't pretend to be something it isn't. It endures."
Kyousuke placed a hand against the Mobile Suit's leg armor, feeling the cold solidity beneath his palm.
"…Like infantry," he said.
Brandt allowed herself a faint smile. "Exactly."
---
Later — Transport Shuttle
Earth grew larger in the viewport as the shuttle began its descent trajectory.
Clouds swirled. Continents emerged. Gravity slowly returned, pressing into Kyousuke's body like a familiar weight he hadn't realized he missed.
Leo sat rigidly in his seat. "So… you're really switching machines."
Kyousuke nodded. "Strike Dagger was a blade."
Rowan glanced over. "And the Dagger L?"
Kyousuke watched the planet below.
"A shield," he said. "One that can hit back."
Maya exhaled slowly. "Figures they'd give you the one built to stay standing."
Kyousuke didn't respond—but he didn't deny it either.
---
Final Beat of the Scene
As the shuttle pierced the upper atmosphere, fire licking across its hull, Kyousuke closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Orb.
The Moon.
Arzachel.
Different battlefields. Same war.
The Strike Dagger had been the machine that taught him how to survive.
The GAT-02L2 Dagger L would be the one that taught him how to hold the line.
When his eyes opened again, Earth filled the viewport—vast, heavy, waiting.
And Kyousuke Asagi was ready to meet it head-on.