Mei
It had been two days since Mei accidentally blew up her room. Thankfully, the wall was a quick fix for St. Freya, but other problems quickly arose.
Even just walking around campus grounds became unbearable. The constant chatter and ambient sound quickly overloaded her senses.
She tried her best to hold herself together, but it was becoming unbearable as her emotions were also now getting out of hand.
Just the sound of wind rattling her window, or the sound of water flowing from the sink was enough to make her immensely irritated.
So, Mei decided to try one thing that always helped calm her down: cooking.
The rhythmic chop of the knife, the hiss of the sauté pan, the bubbling of the stew—it was a symphony she conducted every evening to signal that the day's battles were over.
Though tonight, it felt like her senses were being bombarded.
Mei stood by the stove, gripping the wooden spoon with just enough strength not to snap it.
Hummmmmmmmm.
The refrigerator compressor hummed beside her. To anyone else, it was just dismissible background noise. To Mei, it sounded like a drill grinding directly into the base of her skull.
Clank.
Mei flinched as her wrist hit the side of the pot. The Gen-3 Inhibitor Cuff—that thick, ugly band of metal and glowing circuitry—was heavy.
It dragged her hand down, throwing off her muscle memory just enough to make her feel clumsy.
"Stupid," Mei hissed under her breath, staring at the tomato sauce bubbling violently in the pot.
The bubbles popped with wet, loud smacks. Pop. Pop. Pop. Each one felt like a wet finger tapping directly against her eardrum.
The smell of the garlic was overpowering, cloying, choking her. The heat from the stove felt like a sunburn on her face. The magnetic field in the cuffs pulled at the steel cookware, fighting her movements.
'You do this all the time, don't overthink it,' she told herself, gripping the spoon tighter. She reached for the salt. The heavy cuff dragged across the countertop with a screech of metal on ceramic.
Mei gritted her teeth, a headache spiking behind her eyes like a hot needle. 'Ignore the noise.'
"Mmm! Is that pasta?"
The voice was cheerful, loud, and right behind her ear.
Mei jumped, her heart hammering against her ribs like she'd just been ambushed. She spun around, the wooden spoon clattering loudly against the metal stovetop.
Kiana was standing there with a wide grin. She had snuck into the kitchen in her socks. She reached past Mei, dipping a finger into the sauce before popping it into her mouth.
"Hot! Hot, but good!" Kiana laughed, smacking her lips.
Smack. Smack.
The sound was wet. It was loud. It was disgusting.
Kiana chewed with her mouth open, humming a little tune as she reached for a piece of bread on the counter.
"Get out!" The scream ripped out of Mei's throat before she could stop it.
Kiana froze, her hand halfway to the bread. Her eyes went wide, her smile vanishing instantly. "M-Mei? I was just—"
"I said, get out!" Mei snapped, slamming her hand down onto the counter.
CRASH.
In her anger, she didn't notice where her hand was landing. The heavy cuff caught the handle of a glass jar of marinara sauce. It spun off the edge and shattered on the tiled floor.
Red sauce splattered everywhere—across the white tiles, across the cabinets, across Kiana's socks.
"Stop walking around!" Mei shouted, her voice cracking, ignoring the mess. "Stop making that noise! Just leave me alone!"
Kiana took a step back, looking like she'd been slapped. Hurt flashed across her blue eyes—confusion, then shame. She looked at the mess on the floor, then back at Mei's furious face.
"I... I'm sorry," Kiana whispered, her voice small. "I didn't mean to..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She turned and fled the kitchen, her footsteps retreating quickly down the hallway, leaving Mei alone with the simmering pot and the shattered glass.
Mei stood there, her chest heaving, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The anger drained away as quickly as it had come, replaced by a cold, hollow pit of shame.
"What's wrong with me?" She signed, covering her face with her hands.
She hadn't meant to yell. Kiana hadn't done anything wrong. That was something she had always done, she was just being herself.
She couldn't handle Kiana right now. Just like how she couldn't handle the cooking or anything else.
She stared at the sauce on the floor, the red liquid bubbling like magma in her vision. She felt tears of frustration prick at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
Mei turned the stove off with a violent twist of the knob. She walked out of the kitchen, retreating to the silence of her room to calm down.
She'll clean everything up later.
/ — /
Wendy
The thermostat on the wall read 26°C. To anyone else, the small, windowless office would have felt like a sauna.
To Wendy, it felt like the inside of a freezer.
She was sitting at Himeko's spare desk, buried under a mountain of clothes. A normal student uniform, a thick wool sweater over that, and a heavy tactical parka zipped up to her chin.
Her hands were encased in fingerless compression gloves, designed to keep blood flow active in her extremities.
But they weren't working. Wendy stared at the single sheet of paper in front of her. It was a midterm for physics.
Himeko had asked her to verify the answers on the freshman tests. A simple task to keep her mind occupied. To let her feel useful as the Major's new "assistant."
'It's just simple equations,' Wendy told herself, her teeth gritted to stop them from chattering. 'I was the best in Oceania. This is child's play for me.'
She looked at the student's answer. It was correct. All she had to do was pick up the red pen and draw a checkmark.
She commanded her hand to move. Her arm twitched. It felt heavy, as if it were encased in lead. The "thermal-regulatory cocktail" Theresa had injected her with six hours ago was doing its job. It was keeping her alive, but the sedation effect was suffocating.
It felt like her brain was stuffed with wet cotton. Her thoughts were sluggish, wading through a gray fog.
Wendy stared at her hand resting on the desk. It looked like a stranger's hand. Pale. Trembling. Useless.
'I am the Fourth Herrscher,' she thought bitterly. 'I can create hurricanes that level cities. I can fly faster than sound.'
She focused all her willpower on her index finger. 'So why can't I pick up a stupid pen?' The Gem of Desire pulsed dully in her body, a hungry void sucking the warmth right out of her body.
Her fingers scraped against the desktop, inching toward the red pen. She brushed against the plastic barrel.
She tried to grip it. Her numb fingers fumbled. Click. The pen slipped from her grasp. It rolled away, spinning slowly across the smooth wood until it hit the edge of the laptop.
The sound was tiny. Insignificant. But to Wendy, it sounded like a defeat. She didn't try to reach for it again. She couldn't. Her energy was gone, spent on that one pathetic attempt.
She just sat there, staring at the red pen, breathing in shallow, frosty gasps. "You've been staring at that same page for twenty minutes, Wendy." The voice came from the doorway.
Wendy froze. She hadn't heard anyone approach. She turned her head slowly to see that Himeko was leaning against the doorframe, holding two mugs of steaming tea.
She was looking at Wendy's hands. There was no anger in her eyes. Just a quiet, crushing pity.
Panic spiked in Wendy's chest. How long had she been standing there? How long had she been watching Wendy struggle to perform basic motor functions?
"I'm fine," Wendy whispered. The lie tasted like ash. "I just... I lost my train of thought."
"No, you didn't," Himeko said gently, walking into the room. She set the mugs down on the filing cabinet and reached over. She picked up the red pen.
"Your coordination is messed up. Theresa warned us the fatigue would set in around noon."
"I can do it," Wendy insisted, but she didn't move to take the pen back. She couldn't even lift her arm to try. "You did so much for me. If I'm not working, then..."
Himeko sighed, placing the pen down on the far side of the desk, out of reach. "Don't beat yourself up too much. You are still recovering."
She stood up and offered Wendy a hand. Wendy looked at the hand. Then, at the grading papers she hadn't touched.
The fight drained out of her. She was too cold to argue. Too tired to pretend. She took Himeko's hand and let herself be pulled up. Her legs felt like jelly, buckling slightly under her own weight.
"Go to the couch," Himeko ordered softly, steering her toward the door. "Drink the tea. Warm up."
"But the grading..."
"That's an order, Specialist Wendy," Himeko said, though her smile was sad. Wendy slumped. The title— Specialist —felt like a cruel joke.
"Yes, Major…"
She walked out of the office, hugging her arms to her chest, leaving the single, unmarked test papers on the desk.
'What I would give to crush some Honkai Beasts right now…'
/ — /
Kiana
> SIMULATION LOG: SESSION 4> DIFFICULTY: S (OVERRIDE) > ENEMY WAVES: 14/15 > PILOT STATUS: WARNING [ELEVATED LACTIC ACID / CARDIAC STRESS]
The digital construct of a Chariot swung its arm, the wind it generated whipped Kiana's hair across her face, stinging her eyes with sweat.
'Move.'
Kiana threw herself sideways, hitting the synthetic floor hard. Her shoulder screamed in protest, a dull, throbbing ache that had started two hours ago and was now a roaring fire.
CRACK.
The limb smashed into the tiles where her head had been a fraction of a second ago.
Kiana rolled, coming up on one knee. She didn't think or plan and just pulled the triggers.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Her dual pistols flared, sending three rounds of hard-light ammunition into the Chariot's hull. The shield shimmered, absorbing the impact, but the force staggered the beast.
"Die!" Kiana screamed, the sound tearing out of her raw throat.
She pushed off her back foot, ignoring the cramp in her calf. She launched herself into the air, spinning violently, bringing her heel down onto the Chariot's exposed helm.
> CRITICAL HIT.> TARGET ELIMINATED.
The beast shattered into a million pixels of blue light.
The room fell silent, save for the hum of the cooling vents and Kiana's ragged, wet breathing.
She landed badly, stumbling forward and catching herself on her hands and knees. Sweat dripped from her nose, pooling on the floor.
Her lungs felt like they were filled with broken glass. Every inhale was a battle.
> WAVE 15 INITIATING…
"Pause," Kiana gasped out. "Computer... pause simulation."
> SIMULATION PAUSED.
The red combat lighting faded, replaced by the sterile white of the training room.
Kiana collapsed onto her back, staring up at the grid of lights on the high ceiling. Her chest heaved. Her uniform was soaked through. There was a fresh bruise forming on her hip, blooming purple against her pale skin.
'Get up,' she told herself. 'Round fifteen. You have to finish the set.'
But her legs refused to obey.
She turned her head to the side, looking at the holographic scoreboard hovering near the door.
RANK: B+ TIME: 04:12:45 IMPROVEMENT: 0.8%
"Zero point eight," Kiana whispered to the empty room. A bitter laugh bubbled up in her chest. "Pathetic."
She closed her eyes, and immediately, the image of the others flashed in her mind.
Mei, sparking with enough electricity to vaporize anything she touched, held back only by her own fear. Wendy, creating literal storms that could cover an island, her body housing a storm she couldn't contain. And Kenji, strong enough to clear the sky, but in a war with his inner demon.
'They are monsters,' Kiana thought, the insecurity gnawing at her gut. 'They're breaking because they have too much power. While I'm breaking just trying to keep up.'
She flexed her hands. Her knuckles were raw and red inside her gloves.
Theresa had told them to rest. Himeko had told them to take it easy. But how could she? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her father walking away into the snow. Every time she looked at Mei, she saw the distance growing between them.
If she stayed the same... if she stayed just "Kiana Kaslana, the girl with the guns"... she would lose them. She would be left behind.
'I have to be stronger. Just like dad, a Kaslana never gives up!'
Kiana gritted her teeth and forced herself to sit up. The room spun. Her vision grayed out at the edges, her body screaming for water, for sleep.
She ignored it. She grabbed a towel from the bench, wiping the sweat from her eyes, and checked the time.
03:20 AM.
If she hurried, she could shower in the locker room, sneak back into the dorms before the sun came up, and pretend she had been sleeping the whole time. Himeko wouldn't notice. Mei was too distracted by the noise to notice.
She flinched when the memory of her in the kitchen flashed in her mind. Along with the guilt that came back full force.
Kiana shook her head and stood up, her legs shaking violently. She looked at the simulator console.
> RESUME?
Her finger hovered over the 'No' button. She should stop. She was at her limit.
'One more percent,' the voice in her head whispered. 'Just get to 1%.'
Kiana slapped the console.
> SIMULATION RESUMED.> WAVE 15: CHARIOT CLASS.
The red lights slammed back on. A massive, digital roar shook the floorboards.
Kiana raised her guns, her smile sharp and hollow.
"Come and get it, ugly."
/ — /
Himeko
Himeko hesitated with her hand on the doorknob.
Standing in the hallway outside Squad V's dorm, she could usually hear them before she even reached the door.
There should have been the bass-heavy thud of a video game, the clatter of pots from Mei's cooking, or just Kiana shouting about something trivial. It should have been noisy.
Instead, the only thing greeting her was a suffocating, heavy silence.
Himeko sighed, adjusting the six-pack of beer tucked under her arm. A gift she suspected would go unopened, and pushed the door open.
The air inside was stale. It smelled of old takeout and rubbing alcohol.
Himeko stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her. No one greeted her. No one even looked up.
'Wow, this is depressing.' Himeko thought, her eyes sweeping the room.
The living room, usually a chaotic mess of pillows and gadgets, was pristine in a way that felt wrong. Nothing had been moved in days.
Mei was sitting in the armchair by the unplugged television. She had a book open on her lap, but Himeko noted the page number. It was the same page Mei had been on when Himeko checked on them yesterday.
On the couch, Wendy was just a lump of gray wool. She was buried so deep in blankets that Himeko could only see the top of her green hair. She wasn't sleeping—the rhythm of her breathing was too jagged.
And then there was Kiana.
Kiana was the only thing moving. She was pacing the length of the room, from the kitchenette to the window. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Himeko leaned against the wall, cracking open a beer, and watched the Kaslana girl.
Kiana moved with a frantic, jerky energy. But Himeko, with decades of combat experience, saw what Kiana was trying to hide.
There was a subtle hitch in her step every time she turned on her left leg. She favored her right side. She was wincing every time she thought no one was looking.
'She's hurt,' Himeko realized, taking another sip of her drink. She already knew Kiana was using the sims after hours to push herself.
Usually, she would have put a stop to it. But she decided to let her vent for a day or two, she thought the girl would need it.
'Clearly, that was the wrong call…'
Theresa had been adamant. To give time for their bodies to adapt. To rest.
But looking at them now, Himeko started to doubt the idea of making them sit around. They were powerful Valkyries stuck doing nothing. No outlet to release their frustrations on.
Mei flinched at the sound of Kiana's footsteps. Wendy pulled the blanket tighter. Kiana turned again, her eyes hollow and frantic.
Himeko set her beer down on the entryway table. The metallic clink echoed in the quiet room.
"What are you doing, Kiana?" Himeko said, her voice low.
Kiana froze mid-step. She looked up, startled, as if she hadn't even realized Himeko was there. "Auntie Himeko? I... I'm just walking around, you know."
"You're limping," Himeko corrected bluntly.
Kiana opened her mouth to argue, but Himeko cut her off with a look. She walked past Kiana, approaching the coffee table in the center of the room.
She felt the tension in the air spike. Mei finally looked up from her unread book, her eyes dark and exhausted. Wendy shifted in her cocoon, peering out warily.
They looked at her like she was an intruder. Or maybe they were just terrified she was going to ask them how they were feeling.
Himeko didn't ask. Instead, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a crumpled manila folder. She dropped it onto the table.
THUD.
"Everyone, I need a favor."
"Municipal grid sent a ping an hour ago," Himeko continued, keeping her tone bored and professional. "There's a pack of Honkai beasts nesting in an abandoned textile factory in Sector 9. Mostly Chariots, maybe a Templar if it's really bad. It's just a cleanup job."
She crossed her arms, leaning back against the edge of the couch.
"I was going to send another squad to handle it tomorrow. But honestly? The paperwork for a deployment request is a nightmare, and I don't want to deal with it."
She looked at Kiana. Then Mei. Then the lump that was Wendy.
"I figured if you three were bored, you could go knock it out off the books. Save me the headache."
The reaction was immediate. And slightly terrifying.
It wasn't reluctance. It wasn't fear. It was hunger.
Kiana stepped toward the table, her pain forgotten. Her eyes, which had been dull and anxious a second ago, sharpened into focus. "We can go? Now?"
"Whoa, slow down there," Himeko warned, eyeing Kiana's leg. "It's just a quick sweep, nothing too exciting."
"I'll do it."
Mei stood up. The book slid from her lap and hit the floor, forgotten. Her expression was desperate.
"I can't sit here anymore, Himeko. I need to hit something."
Kiana slightly inched away from Mei at her statement.
Himeko turned her gaze to the couch. "Wendy? You're excused. It's freezing out there, and you look like you're halfway to hibernation."
Wendy sat up. She looked pale, trembling slightly as the cold air hit her face, but she shed the top layer of blankets with a determination that surprised Himeko.
"I'm going," Wendy muttered, her teeth chattering slightly. "If I stay on this couch for one more hour, I'm going to lose my mind."
Himeko looked at them.
They were a disaster. A girl hiding an injury, a girl who flinched at loud noises, and a girl who was freezing to death.
Sending them into the field was reckless. It was stupid. Theresa would give Himeko an earful for this.
But Himeko also saw the spark of life returning to their eyes. The stagnant, rotting atmosphere of the room was breaking, replaced by purpose.
Even if that purpose was violence, it was better than this slow death.
"Fine," Himeko said, pushing off the couch. "Suit up. We leave from the east hangar in ten minutes. And bring your heavy gear—I'm not carrying anyone home."
"Yes, Auntie!" Kiana shouted. She didn't sound happy, exactly, but she sounded real again. She turned and sprinted toward her room, ignoring her limp.
Mei followed, moving with a sharp, angry grace. Wendy didn't leave her cocoon, but instead used her power to summon wind strong enough to lift her up and away.
Himeko watched them scatter until the room was quiet.
She picked up her beer again, taking a long, slow drink. This should be fine, right? The kids get some time to release their tension and be a team.
What could go wrong?