I woke up to warmth.
Warmth. Soft, steady warmth pressed against my side, a slow rhythm of breathing at my shoulder, fingers lightly gripping my shirt like they were making sure I hadn't vanished in the night.
Tohka.
For a few seconds I didn't move. I just stared at the ceiling and let my eyes focus. The room was quiet in that thin, pale way mornings are quiet before the city fully wakes up. My body felt like I'd borrowed it from someone else—heavy arms, dry throat, that weird hollow ache behind the eyes that comes from sleeping without really resting.
Last night replayed in pieces: strange noises, sudden impact, shouting, running feet, lights. Tohka refusing to leave me alone after that. Tohka insisting she'd stay close....Very close. Tohka eventually drifted off with her head near my chest like she was guarding something fragile and not trusting the world with it.
I turned my head.
She was asleep, Violet hair spilled messily across the pillow, expression softer than I usually ever saw when she was awake. No glare at Origami. No stubborn argument. No dramatic declarations. Just Tohka, breathing quietly, still holding onto me even in sleep like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My chest tightened for a second. Not pain. Something simpler and worse.
I carefully slipped my hand out from under hers, slow enough not to wake her. She made a tiny sound and shifted, then settled again. I stayed frozen until her breathing evened out.
"Sorry," I whispered, mostly to the air.
I sat up and rubbed my face hard with both hands. My head felt full of static. Yesterday I'd met Yoshino. Kotori and Tohka had walked in. Yoshino had disappeared in fear. We'd talked for hours after that, and none of it had made me trust Ratatoskr any more than I already did. If anything, less. But I'd already made my choice.
If this was what it took to keep these girls from being hunted, then I'd do it.
Even if it hurt. Even if it got uglier.
Especially then.
I stood, stretched my back until something popped, and looked down at what I'd tossed over a chair the night before. Same lazy blue jacket. Same indoor slides. Same exhausted stupidity.
I put them on anyway.
⸻
The walk to school felt like I was moving through someone else's day.
People looked at my feet first. Then my face. Then back at my feet.
I didn't blame them. Indoor slides are the kind of thing you wear to shuffle from your room to the kitchen at six in the morning, not the kind of thing you wear outside on a weekday like a functioning person. Especially at a school with a uniform. My jacket still had that wrinkled look from being used as a blanket at one point. I knew how I looked. I just didn't have enough energy to care.
A group of first-years passed me and lowered their voices, which of course made it obvious they were talking about me.
"Uhm..?"
"Did he sleep outside?"
"Maybe it's fashion?"
I kept walking.
The school gate came into view. Morning noise, shoes on concrete, random laughter, someone running late and apologizing to someone. Normal sounds. Normal day.
Sure.
I stepped into the hallway and felt it immediately: the little pauses, the double-takes, the side glances that pretended not to be side glances. I slid my hands into my jacket pockets and kept my eyes forward.
Origami was at her desk when I entered class. She didn't react like everyone else. She just looked once with a flash of curiosity, at my face, my jacket, my slides—then looked away with that same expressionless focus she used for everything, like she was filing data.
I dropped into my seat and let out a long breath.
I wanted coffee. I wanted ten more hours of sleep. I wanted one week where no one tried to kill anyone.
Instead, I got Tonomachi.
He slammed down into the seat in front of me, spun around backward, and pointed at me like he was a prosecutor in a courtroom drama.
"Shidou! Explain."
I blinked at him. "What?"
He gestured broadly at my entire existence. "The look. The aura... The footwear.. You look like a divorced uncle who lost custody of his kids!"
"Oi.. It's not that bad..." I muttered.
"It really is!" He yelled out
He narrowed his eyes, then suddenly leaned in with grave seriousness. "Fine. Since you're clearly at the edge of human civilization, answer me this.... maid or nurse?"
I stared at him for half a second.
"Maid."
No hesitation.
Tonomachi recoiled like I'd stabbed him.
"Maid..? MAID!?" He clutched his chest theatrically. "After everything we've discussed? After all the intellectual groundwork I laid?"
"Hehe.. yeah?." I gave him a lazy smile.
"That is betrayal."
From my right, Origami's voice came in flat and neutral.
"Maids, huh."
That was all she said. No visible emotion. No change in tone. Somehow that made it worse.
Tonomachi whipped toward her, then back to me, then flung himself forward onto his desk in despair. "I have lost him. He's gone. He's become a lazy minimalist deviant."
A few classmates laughed. More people glanced over. I sank lower in my seat.
"Can you be any more embarrassing?" I asked.
"Absolutely not, Nurse supremacy."
After that Classes dragged.
Not because the lessons were hard. Because my brain had switched to low-power mode and refused to come back online.
I answered when called on. I took notes automatically. I stared at the board and occasionally realized I'd read the same sentence three times without processing it. Every time that happened, I rubbed the bridge of my nose and forced myself back.
Origami kept glancing at me at odd intervals. Not obvious enough for anyone else to catch. Obvious enough for me.
Tohka glanced too, but her looks were different: worried, occasionally pouty, like she still hadn't decided if she was angry at me for yesterday, relieved I was here and protective over last night, or all of them at the same time.
Probably both.
Between periods, people still looked at my slides. By third period I started to feel like they were louder than normal shoes. Every slap against the floor was a tiny announcement:
This guy has lost it.
This guy slept wrong.
This guy is one bad joke from collapsing.
I wasn't sure any of those were false.
Lunch arrived and with it, the daily ritual of me trying to prevent open war between the two girls nearest me.
I sat down first. Origami sat on one side. Tohka on the other. The air in that triangle got tense enough to cut with a spoon.
I rested my elbows on the desk and sighed. "Can we just... eat?"
Tohka crossed her arms. "I can eat."
Origami nodded once. "I can also eat."
"Great," I said. "Amazing diplomacy."
They both glared at each other over my bento.
I opened mine. Origami opened hers. Tohka opened hers.
Three seconds passed.
Origami looked at my bento, then Tohka's, then mine again.
She then looked me straight in the face with her same cold look.
"Identical," she said flatly.
I looked down. Me and Tohka had the Same shape rice portion. Same side dishes. Same garnish arrangement. Of course.
"Coincidence," I said weakly. "We bought it from the same vendor."
Origami turned her eyes to me. "Liar."
Tohka looked between us. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing," I said quickly. "It means Origami likes to be dramatic."
Origami reached over, lifted the lid fully, and pointed with clinical precision.
She started "You bought this at your local convenience that your frequent 2 miles away" she looked me dead in the face and continued "1,580 yen, One hundred fifty-four days ago. Same shop. Same brand."
I stared at her. "Do you keep a database in your head?"
"Yes." She said flatly.
"Of course you do..."
Origami..... had a stalking problem that's for sure.
Tohka frowned. "Shidou?"
"Eat your lunch," I said.
"Why is your face like that?"
"What face?"
"Your 'I am trapped and suffering' face."
Origami spoke without looking away. "Accurate description."
I put my chopsticks down and pressed my palms against my eyes. "I'm very... tired."
It was true. Not just physically. This felt like the type of tired sleep couldn't fix. Crazy things were happening both in and outside of my head. I couldn't even relax in my own dreams
Tohka leaned toward me. "Are you sick?"
"Emotionally."
Origami nodded once. "Understandable."
Which, coming from Origami, sounded less like sympathy and more like a field report.
Tohka puffed her cheeks. "I do still do not understand why you're making that face. Explain."
"Later."
"Now."
"Later."
"Now."
Before that could escalate into another lunch-period disaster, the world ended.
Or at least, it made that sound again.
UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU——-
The warning alarm tore through the school, loud enough to rattle the windows. Everyone in the room froze in the same instant. Chopsticks stopped mid-air. Conversations snapped shut. A few people flinched hard enough to knock over bottles.
Spacequake alarm.
My spine tingled.
Origami was already standing.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second—just enough for me to see her jaw tighten, she shot me a look—then she moved. Fast. Too fast for a normal student. She was out of the classroom before half the room had even stood up.
AST.
Of course.
Tohka grabbed my sleeve. "Shidou—what is—?"
Our teacher clapped sharply and shouted instructions. "Everyone to shelter routes! Now! Leave everything!"
Desks scraped back. The room exploded into movement.
I stood with everyone else, but before I could take two steps, a familiar sleepy voice appeared right behind me.
"Itsuka-kun. This way."
Reine.
She took my wrist and pulled me toward the rear exit.
Tohka caught my other sleeve. "Where are you going?"
I looked at Reine, then back at Tohka. The hallway was already chaos: students funneling toward stairs, teachers yelling directions, alarm still blaring above everything.
"Reine, wait," I said. "I can't just leave her."
Reine's expression didn't change. "Tohka-san should go to the shelter with her class."
"She'll come with us."
"No."
The way she said it made me stop.
"She has been sealed," Reine said quietly. "Functionally human now. Exposure to direct Spirit-AST combat may cause severe stress response. Ratatoskr wants to avoid destabilization and her regaining her powers, She could also be hurt now by most things a human could."
I grimaced
Tohka's grip tightened on my sleeve. "I am coming with you."
I turned fully to her and put both hands on her shoulders.
"Listen to me."
Her eyes were wide, angry and scared at the same time.
"I need you.... to go to the underground bunker with everyone else," I said. "Just for now."
"No."
"Tohka."
"No! Last night—"
"I know." I lowered my voice. "I know. But I'll be okay."
She shook her head hard. "You always say that."
"Because I mean it."
"You get hurt anyway."
I smiled, tired and probably terrible. "Yeah. I'm working on that."
She looked like she wanted to argue until the building shook from a distant rumble. Dust trembled from the ceiling corners. Someone screamed down the hall.
I squeezed her shoulders once. "Important task, remember? I need you safe so I can do it."
Her lower lip trembled. She hated this. I hated this.
Tamae Sensei reached us, breathless, and took her arm gently and looked at me. "Hey! we need to move kids! Come on!"
Tohka held my gaze one second longer.
"Come back please.." she said softly.
"I will, I swear..."
I let go of her and gave her one last look.... Then ran the opposite direction following Reine despite Tamae Sensei's shouts.
Outside, the city had that eerie pre-impact emptiness again—roads too clear, sidewalks half-abandoned, distant sirens stitching through the air.
Reine moved at a speed that made me wonder, not for the first time, what exactly Ratatoskr classified as "normal staff." I kept up, lungs burning, slides slapping wet pavement like a metronome for bad decisions.
We cut through an alley, then another block, then reached the transfer point. The world blurred in the usual Ratatoskr way—metal corridors, lifts, pressure change, noise turning from city panic to controlled operational intensity.
When the bridge doors opened, everything sharpened.
Fraxinus command deck. Displays alive. Operators at stations. Voices clipped and precise.
Kotori stood at center in commander mode, black ribbon, expression hard as polished steel.
She glanced at me once, then at my outfit
"You came in that..?"
"Nice to see you too."
"Sit down before you fall over."
I moved to her side anyway. "Well... is the spirit here?"
"Spirit-wave indicators are spiking. Manifestation imminent." She looked at me straight on. "And before you say it—yes, this is likely Hermit."
My chest tightened.
Kotori continued. "We already discussed your role last night. I'm not repeating all of it. I need one thing: are you in?"
No speeches left. No debate left. We already burned through that.
"I'm in," I said.
She studied me a second longer, like she was checking if fatigue had hollowed me out too far to be useful. Then she gave a tiny nod.
"Good."
An alarm changed pitch, higher and sharper than the school warning.
"High-density Spirit reaction detected!" one operator called.
"Location lock in progress!"
Kotori snapped into command. "Main monitor to projected arrival zone."
The front display switched.
An evacuated city sector filled the screen. Empty streets. Traffic lights changing for no one. Wind carrying debris in loose spirals.
Then the air itself rippled.
It looked wrong every time, like reality had become water and something massive had dropped into it from above. Distortion spread in circles. Light bent. Sound cut out for half a heartbeat—
Flash.
The blast kicked up a ring of dust and shattered fragments. A crater opened where buildings had stood moments before. My stomach lurched even though I was safe on a ship in the sky.
I'd seen this before with Tohka. I still wasn't used to it.
"Visual stabilization," said another operator. "Enhancing central zone."
Kotori folded her arms. "Confirm target."
"Spirit reaction signature matches" a crewmate said
I didn't realize I'd stopped breathing until my lungs forced it.
"Zoom further," Kotori ordered.
The camera pushed through drifting dust, into rain beginning to fall across the crater.
And there she was.
Small figure. Hood with rabbit-like ears. Blue hair peeking out. Puppet on her arm.
Yoshino.
The same girl from yesterday who'd sat in my house and solved word puzzles with careful concentration. The same girl who'd vanished the moment she got scared.
Kotori clicked her tongue. "Pull all data from yesterday, sixteen-hundred to seventeen-hundred. I want to know why our detection lagged."
"Roger!"
I didn't look away from the screen.
"She looks terrified," I said quietly.
"Because she is," Kotori affirmed.
AST units entered frame from three vectors at once.
Armored silhouettes cut through rain and smoke, engines flaring, muzzle flashes strobing. No warning calls. No negotiation posture. Immediate suppressive fire.
Yoshino flinched and jumped back. She moved fast—faster than she had any right to—but the barrage was constant. Missiles burst around her. Gunfire stitched sparks across broken concrete. She tried to retreat upward and sideways in panicked arcs like a cornered animal trying to find one open door in a burning room.
Another salvo hit near her feet and threw her off balance.
My hands clenched so hard my nails dug into my palms.
"They're unloading on her," I said. My voice sounded strange to me, flat with anger. "She's not even attacking."
Kotori didn't soften. Commander mode didn't do soft.
"AST doctrine is threat elimination," she said. "They do not grade on appearance. They do not care if the target looks like a child."
I kept watching Yoshino stumble, recover, flee, get hit again.
"Then why isn't she fighting back?"
Kotori's eyes flicked to another screen. "Hermit is categorized as a very docile-type. Defensive behavior, high avoidance. No direct aggression."
"Docile," I repeated, tasting the word like something bitter. "And they still won't stop."
"No," Kotori said. "As long as she remains a Spirit, they won't."
Rain intensified on the monitor. Yoshino shielded herself with one arm, puppet jerking as she moved. Another near miss blew debris across her path and forced her lower.
My exhaustion burned off all at once. Not into panic. Into clarity.
I turned to Kotori.
"If her power is sealed," I said, each word deliberate, "AST has no reason to hunt her as a Spirit target."
Kotori held my gaze. "In principle."
"And the spacequake risk tied to manifestation goes down."
"Yes."
"And I can do that again..? Like Tohka?"
She didn't answer immediately, Then
"If it worked for Tohka, it should hypothetically work for Hermit"
I took a breath that hurt.
"Then help me do it."
Kotori's expression shifted just slightly—something like pride buried under command posture.
"That's my Onii-chan," she said under her breath, then louder: "All stations, prepare Level One capture operation."
The bridge erupted.
"Roger!"
"Route simulation online!"
"Emotion analysis pipeline standing by!"
"Comms calibration complete!"
Kotori pointed at me. "You are not charging in blind this time. We run this properly."
I glanced back at the monitor. Yoshino was still running, still being herded by fire like prey.
"Then let's move now," I said. "Please."
Kotori nodded once, crisp and final.
"Operation authority confirmed," she called. "Let us begin."
If this had been any other day, I might've needed another long argument to steady myself. Another lecture. Another push.
But this wasn't any other day.
I'd already seen Yoshino close up. Already heard her small voice. Already watched her cling to that puppet like it was armor. Already watched her disappear in fear because my life dragged dangerous people to my front door.
Kotori stepped beside me at the rail, both of us facing the main screen. From the corner of my eye, I could see her posture: rigid, precise, every nerve focused on control. She looked younger and older at the same time in commander mode. Like my little sister and a battlefield officer sharing one body.
Quietly, so only I could hear, she said, "You said last night you'd do this even if it hurt."
"I meant it."
"I believe you.."
On-screen, another burst of fire chased Yoshino toward the shattered edge of the crater. She stumbled again.
I leaned forward without meaning to, like I could somehow bridge the distance by wanting it hard enough.
"Hang on," I whispered, not sure if I was talking to her or myself.
An operator called out vectors. Another confirmed AST formation pattern. Reine's voice came through comms from a side station, calm and sleepy as ever while listing risk probabilities that made my stomach knot.
Kotori began assigning the next sequence, each instruction clipping the panic into manageable pieces.
It hit me then, standing there in my ridiculous outfit, that this was what my life was now: school lunch arguments, evacuation sirens, a command bridge in the sky, and me in the middle trying to hold together people who were never given a chance to be ordinary.
Part of me wanted to sit down and sleep for a week.
Part of me wanted to break every gun on that screen.
Instead, I did what I could do.
I stayed on my feet.
I listened.
I answered when asked.
I kept my eyes on Yoshino and refused to look away.
"Engagement window narrowing," someone said.
Kotori's hand came down on the console rail. "Final prep check."
"Psych profile integration, green."
"Communication guidance array, green."
"Mission path to contact zone, green."
Reine added, "Shin your readiness?"
I opened my mouth, then paused. No time to correct her name mistake.
Images flickered behind my eyes. Yoshino in the rain yesterday, hesitant but trying. Yoshino now, fleeing missile trails in a crater.
I swallowed once.
"Ready," I said.
Kotori didn't look at me this time. She didn't need to.
"Level One capture operation," she said, voice ringing across the bridge, "commence."
"ROGER!"
Lights shifted. Displays updated. The ship hummed with rising output. The mission had started.
And whatever happened next, we were in it now.
I let out a slow breath and finally realized my hands had stopped shaking.
"Yoshino," I said quietly to the screen, to the rain, to the whole broken morning. "I'm coming."
Kotori's voice cut through the bridge one last time, sharp as a drawn blade:
"Okay! Begin the war!"
⸻
The alarm ripped through the classroom like a blade.
For a second, nobody moved. Then everybody moved at once.
Desks scraped. Shoes slammed the floor. Voices overlapped so hard I couldn't pick out words, only panic. Tamae-chan stood at the front trying to direct everyone toward bunker protocol, but my ears were still full of Shidou's voice from a minute ago.
"Go to the shelter. I'll be okay."
He had smiled when he said it, like that could make it true. Like that lazy smile can deny danger.
I hated that smile right now.
I clutched my bag to my chest as we were funneled into the hall. The line bent toward the stairwell that led underground. The emergency lights strobed. Somebody nearby started crying. Somebody else muttered prayers under their breath.
Tamae-chan looked back at me, trying to keep me close. "Yatogami-san, stay with us."
"I am," I said automatically.
But my feet were heavy, and my chest felt too tight.
Last night flashed through me in pieces: the dark room, Shidou beside me, the way I stayed awake longer than I should have because I kept listening for danger that never came. I had told myself I was being silly. Then morning came and he told me to stay behind again.
I swallowed hard and looked up the corridor as if he might still be there.
He wasn't.
Of course he wasn't.
We reached the stairwell entrance. The bunker route yawned open below—concrete steps, cold air, emergency strips glowing along the walls. Students started descending in a shaking line.
I stopped.
"Yatogami-san?" Tamae-chan's hand touched my sleeve. "Come on."
"I can't," I whispered.
She blinked. "You have to. It's not safe outside."
Outside.
Where he was.
My fingers tightened on my bag strap until my knuckles hurt. I could hear my own heartbeat over the alarm.
"Yatogami-san," she said again, gentler this time. "Please."
I turned to her and bowed quickly. "I'm sorry."
Then I ran.
"Yatogami-san! Wait!"
Her voice echoed me down the corridor, but I didn't stop. I burst through the school entrance into open air. The sky had gone strange—too still, too heavy, as if the clouds were waiting for an order.
Wind hit my face. Sirens echoed from across the district.
I didn't know where Shidou had gone.
I only knew I had to find him.
So I ran toward danger and left the bunker behind me.
⸻
Teleportation still felt like someone yanking my soul through a keyhole.
One blink: Fraxinus staging room, sterile light, Kotori's dry voice in my ear.
Next blink: warehouse interior, dim shadows, dust and oil in my lungs.
No entrance flare. No dramatic sound. Just me appearing between stacked pallets and an old wrapped machine taller than a truck. Silent insertion. Exactly as planned.
I stayed still and listened.
The warehouse breathed in long metallic creaks. Somewhere high above, wind pushed against broken panes. Far outside, muted through thick walls, I could hear AST thruster whine and comm chatter—but distant, perimeter-only. They were screening the exterior and watching for Spirit movement. They were not doing indoor push.
More important: they had no idea I was in here.
Good.
A quiet voice in my earpiece whispered, "Comms check."
"Clear," I murmured.
"Minimal speech volume. Proceed to interior sector."
I moved.
The place was a maze—towering shelf rows, wrapped gym equipment, spare furniture, old school festival props, wire cages full of parts nobody remembered. My footsteps were soft on concrete. Light leaked down from cracked skylights in pale strips full of drifting dust.
I passed a dead forklift, turned left around a wall of stacked mats, and heard cloth brush metal ahead.
Then I saw her.
Yoshino stood half-hidden near a column, hood up, small frame tucked inward like she was trying to occupy as little space as possible. Her puppet sat on her left hand, angled toward me like a suspicious guard tower.
As soon as she looked at me Her eyes widened.
"S-Shidou?"
My shoulders loosened a fraction.
"Hey," I said, keeping my hands visible. "I found you..."
The puppet turned its face toward me dramatically. "Suspicious opening line Big bro, Needs work."
I snorted. "Good to see you too."
Yoshino looked down, then back up. "You... came."
"Yeah."
"For me?"
The question hit me harder than it should've.
"Yeah," I said again. "For you."
The puppet made a small theatrical hum. "Not bad. Could be lying. But not bad."
A translucent prompt flickered at the edge of my vision as crew support fed me options:
1. You're safe. I'll protect you.
2. I wanted to see you again.
3. Let's leave right now.
I chose fast.
"I wanted to see you again."
Yoshino stared at me for a second, then lowered her gaze, cheeks pinking. The puppet shifted to face her, then me.
"Hm....." it declared. "Acceptable honesty detected!"
"Rare achievement," I said.
I took one slow step closer, careful not to crowd her. "Can we walk? Just... inside here."
Yoshino nodded once.
We started moving down the aisle, side by side but with a safe gap. She kept the puppet slightly raised, like a shield she trusted more than air.
I didn't ask how she was doing
I Didn't ask how long she had been alone.
I Didn't ask about the loneliness clinging to her like cold rain.
I could feel it anyway.
And the puppet—chatty, teasing, prickly—didn't feel like comic relief. It felt like armor built
around old fear. Bright paint over deep cracks.
Another prompt flashed:
1. Are you hurt anywhere?
2. You don't have to explain anything.
3. Stay behind me if something happens.
I heard crew chatter and picked the second.
"You don't have to explain anything," I said. "We can just walk and talk about random stuff."
Yoshino's shoulders eased slightly. "...Okay."
The puppet lifted one tiny arm. "I vote for random stuff. Trauma discussion is cancelled for today."
"Seconded," I said smiling.
We passed strange relics of school life—cardboard castle walls, giant fake fruit, rolled-up banners, old lockers, a pile of plastic traffic cones like a tiny orange mountain. Yoshino paused at a stuffed rabbit prize sealed in a dusty display bin and stared at it for a few seconds before moving on.
Every distant AST sound from outside made her flinch. Every time, she glanced at me after, checking if she should run.
Every time, I stayed calm and didn't rush her.
Prompt again:
1. If you're with me, no one will hurt you.
2. Do you trust me right now?
3. Would you go on a date with me?
I almost tripped over my own feet.
"...Command," I breathed under my breath.
Kotori's voice answered in my ear, crisp and smug. "Option three her affection parameters are ridiculously high. Do it Immediately"
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
I exhaled slowly. Alright.
I stopped and faced Yoshino.
She stopped too, fingers tightening around the puppet's sleeve.
"Yoshino," I said.
"Y-Yes?"
"Would you go on a date with me?"
Silence.
The puppet froze mid-tilt.
Yoshino's mouth opened, closed, opened again. She looked like I'd asked her to solve advanced math in a lightning storm.
"A... date?" she repeated faintly.
"In here," I said, glancing around rusted shelves and tarp mountains. "Not ideal location. But still."
The puppet recovered first. "Location score: one star"
"Harsh grader," I muttered.
Yoshino peered at me through her bangs. "Is... is it okay if I'm bad at dates?"
I smiled a little. "I'm bad at them too."
The puppet turned to her and whispered loudly, "True. He definitely is."
Yoshino made a tiny embarrassed sound that was almost a laugh.
Then she nodded.
"...Okay."
The word landed softly, but it felt like a door opening.
No more prompts appeared after that.
The earpiece went quiet except for low monitoring static.
I swallowed and grinned despite myself. "Then it's a date."
The puppet pointed at me like a tiny prosecutor. "You have our Temporary approval Big bro."
I smiled wider
⸻
We held perimeter around the warehouse in a loose ring.
No interior assault order. No confirmed interior line of fire. The structure was cluttered, enclosed, and terrible for high-mobility gear. Going in blind would be stupid.
I hate stupid operations.
Rainwater steamed off a thruster unit near my left flank. Two AST members scanned roofline openings while another monitored Spirit-wave drift. Their comm traffic was clipped, disciplined.
"Any visual on Hermit?"
"Intermittent thermal distortion near mid-structure. No clean target lock."
"Interior movement count?"
"Uncertain. Might be one, might be two signatures blending with clutter heat."
Uncertain. I disliked uncertain.
I kept my rifle lowered but ready and watched the dark warehouse face, every cracked window and half-broken door. No one had entered through our visible perimeter in the last cycle. No one had exited.
Whatever was inside was inside.
And until we had a shot that wasn't blind, we waited.
I didn't like waiting either.
⸻
Dating inside a warehouse turns out to be weirdly peaceful if missiles are only outside.
We wandered the rows like it was a scavenger hunt with no timer. Yoshino asked tiny questions in a tiny voice.
"Do you like sweet bread?"
"Yeah."
"Even melon bread?"
"Especially melon bread."
The puppet spun toward me. "Correct answer. Highest honor for you Big bro!"
I bowed slightly. "Honored."
Yoshino hid a smile in her sleeve.
I asked about colors she liked. She said pale blue. Asked whether she liked rain or snow more. She chose snow after a long pause. Asked if loud places bothered her.
She nodded instantly.
"Me too," I said.
She looked surprised by that, then relieved.
We passed under hanging chains and through a section stacked with folded stage platforms. One crate had "PRIMARY SCHOOL PLAY SET" stamped on the side in faded red letters.
A minute later we found the reason.
An old indoor jungle-gym assembly sat half-built in an open bay between storage aisles: climbing bars, plastic tunnel, a little platform with guard rails, a short slide with dull scuff marks from a hundred forgotten shoes.
Yoshino stopped dead. Her eyes lit up.
The puppet announced in dramatic awe, "Ancient relic discovered. Child-level dungeon unlocked."
I leaned against a stack of foam blocks. "Explorer Yoshino may proceed."
She looked at me as if asking permission. I nodded.
She climbed carefully at first—small hands on metal rungs, cautious steps, checking each foothold. Then a little faster. Then through the tunnel and up to the platform, where she turned and looked down with a shy, proud expression that hit me right in the chest.
The puppet pumped its little arm. "Conqueror of Heights! Queen of Platform Four!"
I laughed. "Long may she reign."
Yoshino blushed and ducked her head, but she didn't come down.
I stayed close enough to catch her if something went wrong. Not hovering, just ready.
The puppet swiveled toward me. "You're hovering emotionally."
"I'm just standing."
"Same thing."
I opened my mouth to fire back, and that was when her foot slipped.
There was moisture on the platform edge—condensation or tracked rain. Her shoe lost grip. She gasped, one hand missing the rail, body tipping forward.
"Yoshino!"
I lunged and caught her around shoulders and back.
Momentum carried us both down onto a spread of thin safety mats. Soft impact, hard jolt, and then—
Her hood fell back.
Her face was right there.
Too close.
Then lips.
A brief, accidental kiss.
Everything went still.
My heartbeat pounded loud enough to feel in my teeth. Yoshino froze like a startled animal. The puppet went completely rigid.
I waited for the sealing reaction.
With Tohka, it had been immediate—force, heat, impossible movement, undeniable shift.
Now?
Nothing.
No surge. No transfer. No change.
Just dust, breath, and stunned silence.
I pulled back slightly, brain stalling. "...What?"
Yoshino's cheeks burned bright red. "I-I'm sorry! I slipped—I didn't mean—"
"It's okay," I said quickly. "You're fine. Are you hurt?"
She shook her head so fast her bangs trembled. The puppet snapped back to life with theatrical outrage.
"Emergency! Embarrassment level critical!"
Despite the confusion knotting my stomach, a short laugh escaped me.
No sealing.
Why?
Wrong condition? Wrong emotional state? Timing? Something I didn't understand yet?
Yoshino looked at me through watery eyes, still flustered. "You're... not angry?"
"Why would I be angry?"
"I made trouble."
"You slipped," I said. "That's not a crime. If anything you should be the angry one"
The puppet thrust itself between us protectively. "If you tease her, I file emotional charges."
"No teasing."
"Good."
I helped Yoshino sit up. She kept one hand pressed to her chest like she could physically hold her heartbeat down.
Then a voice cut through the bay behind me.
"Shidou...?"
Cold hit the back of my neck.
I turned.
Tohka stood at the edge of the aisle, hair disheveled from running, breath uneven, eyes wide and hurt and sharp all at once. She had clearly sprinted hard to get here.
And she was looking straight at us on the mats, too close, cheeks flushed, the aftermath obvious enough without explanation.
For one second I couldn't speak.
Yoshino made a small startled sound and recoiled. The puppet snapped upright in full guard posture.
I stood too fast, almost losing balance. "T-Tohka..?"
Her expression flickered—confusion, pain, anger, fear—so fast it felt like watching glass crack in real time.
"Shidou.." she said again, quieter this time, which somehow hurt worse.
Behind her, distant through the warehouse shell, AST engines whined outside like circling wolves.
Inside, nobody moved.
And I swallowed