Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ash, drifting in the air and onto the ground. A sky, once blue, now an inky black. Screams in the distance. Crying nearby. Black crystals everywhere, a poison.

Few people of the wrecked town had escaped when they heard the warnings. Those who stayed behind had no choice in the matter when people dressed in white hoods and armed with pipes and sticks showed up, beating them down and keeping them trapped.

Because these townspeople were not sick, not like the ones in the hoods and masks. The Reunion Movement had no mercy for those who stayed back and just watched as victims to the crystal plague suffered. Infected or Uninfected, sympathetic or otherwise, bystanders were as bad as murderers.

Amongst the rubble was a person. He was late, distraught when he heard what Reunion’s leader was going to do.

Talulah. He ran through the night and ruin, forcing himself to ignore desperate pleas.

But he did stop when he saw white-hooded men kicking down a door. This Catastrophe had not been that large; the house, like many others on the outer ring of the Catastrophe’s epicenter, still stood. They flooded inside, dragging out a family of three—Ursin, judging from their round furry ears. The white-hooded group threw them onto the ground and started beating them with their fists like punching bags.

One of the men spotted the young man approaching. He waved in greeting and was laughing in morbid delight. The young man did not say anything and stared at the family that struggled within their captors’ grasps.

“Hey Doctor!” greeted another white-hooded man, and the others grunted similar sayings. “We’ve got this town on lockdown. We’re left with cleaning up stragglers now.”

The Doctor kept his eyes on the family. A girl squirmed within his gaze. A man tried to throw himself in her way, shielding her from the men’s punches and kicks.

“What are you doing?” the Doctor asked slowly.

“Huh?”

“You are just beating them. I assume Talulah said ‘kill’, not literally ‘cleaning up’?”

“Oh.” The man’s voice dropped in tone. The others stayed their hands and feet, and held the family in death grips. “These piles of filth? They deserve to suffer when they didn’t do anything!”

Even though they only had little holes for eyesight, the Doctor could imagine a red, manic light in their eyes. “Because they could have helped you? Are you sure about that? Are all of you?” he asked quietly.

“Y-Yeah,” one timid-sounding man spoke up, but his voice was laced with passion, and anger, wishing to be let out.

“We won’t suffer this prejudice.”

“I hate them… I hate, I’d never—”

“Ursus doesn’t deserve mercy!”

“Hey Doc, wanna share in our revenge? I know there was this incident with some Ursin guys you had, with—”

The Doctor’s hand shot up, palm raised open in a stopping gesture. Everyone shut up immediately.

“So this is the path you really wanted to set us on, Talulah?” he muttered. “Why?”

“Sir?” asked a man—and he was falling backwards in the next second, his cheap mask cracked.

The Doctor’s fists were smashing more masks, and over, and over, and over…

The Doctor sat up in cold sweat, throwing a punch into dark and empty air. He kept still for a few seconds until his arm felt like it was being draped with weights all over.

He let it fall onto the plush bed he was on. He was in his room, somewhere on a moving base, he remembered. And for all the room was familiar, he felt… out of place. And not?

It was a complicated topic the Doctor felt he shouldn’t be thinking about so early in the morning. Or was it morning? He checked the alarm clock on his bedside table, which read 4:19 AM.

The Doctor frowned. He was up incredibly early. This room had no windows, being rather deep inside the base unlike the more communal facilities, so he had to rely on devices like the clock and the high-tech computer at his room’s desk. Speaking of which, he saw a blue icon blinking on the desk’s glassy surface.

Dragging his legs out of the blanket and slogging them onto the floor took an unnecessarily long minute since he still felt out of sorts from the dream, but he was in his swivel chair, at his desk, and tapping at a blinking icon of a rook chess piece on the desk's glossy white surface.

Immediately, streams of colors lit up the Doctor’s dark room—and burned at the Doctor’s bleary eye—as all sorts of programs and data contained in boxes spread across the activated computer’s screen. These were just quick reports and the like; the Doctor dumbed down his process of logistics as ‘the serious things need official things, someone else’s approval (and things), stuff to use, moving said stuff, and his thumb of approval’, all of which were important issues dealt in his actual office.

“Rhodes Island greets you with a good morning, Doctor,” said a cool woman’s voice that echoed from the desk’s built-in side speakers. “How odd. You are five hours early from your usual wake-up time.”

“Good morning, PRTS,” the Doctor replied curtly as he skimmed and clicked through notifications. “Is there anything urgent?”

“There are currently no assignments or reminders you set for today. Or this week. Lungmen has no need for us at the moment, and the base is currently too far away from any major cities to be within effective operation range, remember?”

The Doctor did not know, or had yet to ask, about what went into the making of this artificial intelligence, but the cheeky tone was not something he appreciated at the moment.

“Ah,” PRTS suddenly started, “I think you scheduled a holiday for yourself.”

The Doctor sighed irritably.

“Now now, 'past you' did file a holiday as a separate priority,” PRTS said in a placating way. “You may as well have used post-its, given how busy you were back then but this is an appropriate time, don’t you think?”

The Doctor leaned back in his seat as the AI’s rambling became background noise. He remembered reading a notification on his computer that said ‘Get a holiday, no matter the kind.’ But what PRTS had not been clear about was that it had been there before his amnesia. Whatever notes pre-amnesia Doctor had were probably stored somewhere else, if there were any, given the lack of decorations save for the bed, desk, clock, and some basic black-and-white-themed furniture.

He remembered a few bags though, inside the closet full of scarves, jackets, and overcoats (pre-amnesia Doctor must have loved being mysterious), hidden in a compartment.

“Doctor?” PRTS’s voice brought the man out of his thoughts. “We aren’t scheduling another psychology appointment with Dr. Kal’tsit, are we?”

A mix of emotions arose within the Doctor, nervousness (and guilt, though he did not know why) being the most prominent. He still didn’t know much about the other doctor, other than the fact that she was far more suited for the profession than he was and stared daggers into him every non-working hour she got, but he really didn’t want to see her right now.

So he stood up, ignoring PRTS’s calls for him as he turned off the computer, bumped painfully into his bed’s frame and became motivated to turn on the lights, found some slippers, and reached for his signature, comfortable, navy blue jacket hanging onto a coat rack.

The jacket (more like a coat, really), he found, came with a black cap, mask, translucent buttoned robes, and a strangely comfortable black scarf. Not once had he felt overly uncomfortable in heat with such clothes. Either way, ensuring that his face was masked, according to some Operators, was a habit that did not go away with his amnesia. But why? Protection against Oripathy? Now that he thought about it, his usual hooded outfit could resemble a hazmat suit. He even had a mask with a slasher’s smile and a gas mask, both of which would have made one ever-masked Operator proud.

Past him must be weird. He was sure a certain sleepy-eyed Cautus told him that, repeatedly, and he had a feeling his headpats and hair grooming cemented him as creepy. Being masked all over probably didn’t help.

He ran a finger on the jacket’s sleeve, feeling travel-worthy material smooth over his skin. He had a thought, and took up the robes instead and wore it over his pajamas, then left out the room.

Now came the question of where to go at this hour. The Doctor knew there would be Operators up right now doing night shifts, but not many, and certainly do not have to be bothered. He was not hungry, or feeling up to early office work, even if an adorable brunette leader would admire his dedication.

He looked at the hallway he was in. As a person of authority on Rhodes Island, his room was positioned close to the dormitories, the command center, and the base’s main facilities for easier access. Lights built into the sides of the hallway either side of the Doctor provided dim vision. To his left would be where more of Rhodes Island’s leadership stayed in, along with lifts and stairs to the Operators’ dormitories. To his right led to the base's many different facilities.

And the lounge. It was conveniently built next to the main cafeteria and kitchens, where people tended to bring their food there and stay for window views of the outside. As a result, in addition to sofas and beanbags and coffee tables, there was a supply closet authorized for storing whatever Operators brought, like mattresses, and a raised platform acting as a stage. Atop it was a grand piano of all things, apparently brought by Closure, the base’s head engineer.

His thoughts lingered on the piano, and he thought about the dreams he had been having since he first awoke as the amnesiac. One flickering memory, just within his grasp, came to his lips.

“All alone~ All alone~” he whispered-sang.

He went back into his room, grabbed a manual on music and a few sheets of paper, and hummed for the rest of the way to the lounge.

Amiya covered her mouth with a hand as she yawned, having woke up at half-past six in the morning. As the leader of Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals, even though the next few days would see no major missions, she still had to oversee projects meant for executive management. To that end, she headed to the cafeteria for an early breakfast, and maybe a cup of coffee.

Then she heard the music coming from the lounge. Piano keys?

Something within her stirred. She forgot about her drowsiness as she dashed into the lounge and found a small crowd of people, Operators included, formed in front of the lounge’s stage. Even so, it was oddly quiet, especially with Ifrit the active and childish Operator, and Fang, a team captain, who would be asking questions out of impulsive curiosity.

Instead, everyone was staying quiet as they watched the spectacle in front of them, and those who were talking whispered instead. Amiya, though, didn’t care for all that and dashed around the crowd and saw the bowed head of her Doctor behind the piano.

She saw a young man playing the piano in a corner of a humble café where worn, tired, dust-stained customers of the rainy grey evening watched. Amiya had been outside taking shelter under the café’s front roof when she heard the melancholic melody. There were doctors in town, people were saying, offering their limited but valued medical services—check-ups really—for a very modest sum even the poor of the town could afford. And here was one of the two strangers, who, as Amiya heard from the café owner later on, had tuned and played the piano freely.

Plenty of people got drawn to the café, creating a sudden rise in business that the district it was in rarely saw. The music was sad, but for the usually depressed workers of the town this was the kind of relaxation they needed. Amiya found herself sitting up front, at a table right next to the pianist doctor, her long rabbit ears bobbing to the gentle beat.

When the doctor finished his piece, he looked up to the applause of the customers, all of whom felt a light in their hearts and found themselves suddenly able to cheer in spite of the day’s wear on them. Amiya was standing, wide-eyed, silent in her awe at the crowd’s rare smiles.

The people called for another song. The young man made a near-imperceptible nod, though he paused when Amiya’s eyes met his.

They were a dark green, but shone amber in the light. Dull, yet Amiya felt she could stare even deeper into those eyes. The young man looked at her and knelt down to her height. She was younger back then, and shorter.

He asked what kind of music she wanted to hear—no lyrics, since he wasn’t that good, nor did he want to exhaust his voice. Excited, Amiya asked—

Brang!

—then an offkey note made her blink out of the memory. She was back in the lounge. The Doctor was sighing loudly.

“Ughhhhhhh,” he whined. “So closeeeeee…” Then he raised his head and saw the crowd that had formed. “How long have all of you been there?” he asked.

Amiya saw the crowd stir with a mix of admiration and confusion. She could understand why. It was such an uncharacteristic sight of the quiet and taciturn Doctor, at least for those who knew him for years. Those who were newer didn’t know that much about the Doctor pre-amnesia and ended up knowing the plucky, oddball amnesiac.

“Um, that was an incredible performance, mister,” spoke up Jessica’s timid voice. Amiya heard the Blacksteel Operator shuffling her feet in nervousness. “But, I—um, are you… new…?”

The young man’s head tilted to one side in confusion. “What do you mean, Jessica? I’ve been here for years if what everyone here has been saying is true.”

Amiya replayed the dialogue in her head. Then she realized that no one here had ever seen the Doctor out of his jacket, much less showed his face. They only saw a new person.

She cleared her throat, getting everyone’s attention. After looking around and making sure she had the small crowd’s eyes on her, she said, “Everyone, I understand that you never saw the Doctor, but… this really is the Doctor!”

Everyone looked at the Doctor in translucent robes over his bunny-patterned pajamas (Amiya felt her cheeks growing hot and took an interest in the floor), and slippers, with frizzy bed hair. He returned the strange looks with a quick two-fingered salute. “Hi?” he greeted.

Amiya couldn’t help but giggle at her Doctor’s silly look as Rhodes Island’s staff surged towards him and shouted questions. It was going to be a busy day.

The Doctor stood up, a young, thin, pale man with a mop of black hair. He was short—taller than Ansel the pink-haired Cautus, but notably shorter than most of the male Operators here. He had a dark green eye.

One right eye; the left eye that had been blocked out of sight by the piano's lid was covered up by a dark blue bandana, which wrapped around the hidden eye and his head, the short ends trailing down one side.

The crowd stopped in their tracks, surprised at that part of the reveal. No one was sure what to say until Ifrit impulsively pointed at the bandana.

“Cool eye patch, Doctor!” she exclaimed. “Is it like one of those action movies where it turns out you’re actually a war veteran?”

Amiya winced. It was going to be a very busy day.

Chapter Text

The Doctor was in a kitchen, watching the kettle on the stovetop boil. After giving it a moment, he took hold of the kettle and poured green liquid into ceramic cups on a tray, filtered by a strainer. Then he took up the tray over to a door, twisted the doorknob, and swung it open.

A girl with hair a shade of pale emerald and cat-like ears sat at a desk, poring over a tome. Stacks of books covered the rest of the desk as the young Doctor shook his head disapprovingly at the sight.

“Here, Kal’tsit,” the young Doctor said, setting a cup of piping green tea in a clear space on the desk.

“Thank you,” she replied, but looked at the tea. “I think I have seen this before, but never tried it. What is it?”

“Green tea,” answered the young Doctor. “Or ocha, of the Far East. It’s bitter.”

Kal’tsit took a sip and made a face. “Bitter,” she agreed, and sipped again. “It couldn’t have been tea or coffee?”

“I could have made the instant kind, either one, but we—well, you, mostly, ran us out of our stores. This one was made with green tea leaves, so you better appreciate it a little.”

“Hm,” was all Kal’tsit noncommittally said as she sipped at her tea. Then she looked out the window in front of her. Rain spattered and slid down the glass. The Nomadic City tonight looked even gloomier to the Doctor.

“Both of us need a break,” the Doctor stated.

Kal’tsit raised an eyebrow at him. “We have exams next week.”

“Which makes it all the more important for us not to be stressed. I can tell you would simply… drop within the next few days with this reading marathon of yours.”

There was a long silence in which Kal’tsit regarded her tea before she looked back at her carefree partner. “Alright then,” she said. “Where will you take me?”

The Doctor grinned. “The café by the station. They have good sweets even you would enjoy.”

“Hmph. And I suppose I have to enjoy myself while you get a cup of bitter coffee? Or more leaves? Your intolerance defeats the point of going to a place filled with sweets.”

“Kal, even if I can’t enjoy sweets all the time, your smile would be the only sugar I’d need.”

Kal’tsit's furry ears twitched as she grabbed a book to throw.

“Uh, hey, I was complimenting you!”

“Then don’t start flattering me.”

“Well, we are engaged, sort of.”

“In name.”

“But you can’t deny how this looks to people, or to me— ow! Put it down— oh, you actually blushed. I guess Kal’tsit is a maiden at heart after al— ow!”

“—Doctor... Dooooctoooor...”

The Doctor felt something poking his cheek. It stung a bit every time it landed. Then he opened his eye as he shifted in place and saw something pointed and draped in black get too close—!

“Gyahhhh!”

“O-Oh… sorry Doctor.”

The Doctor recognized that slow, sleepy voice. “D-Durin? Ugh… I’m fine.”

Once he stopped blinking the pain out of his eye, he managed to take a look at the little Caster Operator in oversized black robes standing in front of him. Through her blonde fringe, her tired blue eyes worriedly looked at him.

“Are you really all right…?” she asked.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he reassured her. “I’ve taken worse hits.”

“Oh, that too, but… I mean, I heard you sleep-talking. You didn’t sound… great.”

“Great?”

“Like you… weren’t in a nightmare, but you’re still bothered, maybe?”

The Doctor blinked and looked around from the desk he was at. He was in his office, a large room decked with the usual range of paperwork supplies and electronics befitting Terra’s modern offices, as well as sofas and couches set in the center of the room meant for guests. A few kinds of furniture hugged the walls, including a large bookshelf in one corner.

More important was the pillow underneath his arms on the desk. He drew himself back into a proper sitting position in his swivel chair, examining the impressions he left in the pillow as it sprang back into its plush form. Durin watched it with great interest.

“Can I have it, Doctor?” The Caster pointed at the pillow reserved for the Doctor’s bouts of drowsiness. “It’s pretty much the end of my shift...”

He considered it for a moment. Well, he didn’t have any need for it, so he silently handed it over. With an uncharacteristic bounce in her step, Durin flung herself onto a sofa and rested her head on the pillow. The Doctor counted one second, then two…

He heard snoring. He chuckled at the marvels of narcolepsy before sparing a thought for why his eye was poked out. Wasn’t he wearing a mask…?

Wait. He had taken the mask off and hung it on a coat rack by the door. He still had his hood, cap, and scarf, but his eye—and eye patch—were visible.

Then he thought of the dream.

Kal’tsit.

The Doctor banged his forehead on the desk. It was painful and left him dazed and blinking for a moment before he thought some more about the unusually vivid memory.

“Kal, even if I can’t enjoy sweets all the time, your smile would be the only sugar I’d need.”

What the heck? What the heck! What was their relationship!? The Doctor inhaled and exhaled, loudly, trying to calm himself down and focused on the ‘sugar’ part of it.

The Doctor, as it turned out, was sugar intolerant. To be specific, he was limited in how much sugary food and drink he could take before his body violently rejected the sugar.

It had been a few days after returning from Chernobog. As a welcome back party of sorts, the support department that consisted of Operators serving in non-combative roles like cooking had a nice dinner laid out. Everyone was feasting and the Doctor was getting to know (or re-know in the case of the older Operator teams) the others until he took up a slice of a weird-looking blue cake.

He had been fine in the seconds after he ate the whole thing. But when he was just about to return to his room and sleep, he stopped, shuddered, convulsed, and dropped to his knees while coughing up the remains of the cake.

After the ensuing panic, he was given a prescription, a warning, and exaggerated infamy for being the doctor who nearly killed himself with sugar (and the regret of Operators still resentful of him). It wasn’t even the inedible factory-produced kind.

The Doctor shuddered at that memory and shook his head. Then his stomach grumbled for non-diabetic products.

“Lunch time,” he told himself. Getting up from his chair, the Doctor stretched the stiffness from sitting too long out of him. He then scribbled on a sticky note about where he had gone and stuck it to Durin’s forehead before leaving the office.

The office’s door, like most of the doors on Rhodes Island, was an automatic sliding kind reserved for high-security places. His hand reached out to push on the datapad on the right of the door—

—twisted the doorknob—

The Doctor’s hand brushed against the buttons. For a moment, he grasped for a knob that wasn’t there. Then he caught himself and pushed a button. The door slid out of the way. He walked out.

The tactician put a hand on his head as he walked down the hallway. Memories becoming indistinct from reality was a mental illness if what Dr. Kal’tsit said was true, not to mention the dreams. It had been happening over the last few months, but the Doctor had a feeling it all started with his unmasking.

“Hey there, Doctor. Is everything all right with you?”

The Doctor nearly jumped and turned around to see the speaker.

And the white-haired woman lazily smiling at him seemed to blur in his vision. There were no wolf ears. She was a human, slightly taller, wielding a katana in one hand and a staff in the other, while more weapons hung onto her back like blackened wings of death. She grinned, even with blood all over her face…

The Doctor blinked. Standing in place was the Guard Operator, a Lupo from Siracusa with white hair and silver eyes—her left eye sported a scar of a cut over it. She was dressed in a coat, shorts, and boots, all black and grey. And her expression was a calm, cordial one to match her voice, but her wolfish ears on top of her head that denoted her race wiggled out of rhythm.

“Oh, ah, Lappland,” he greeted quickly. “No, I’m fine. Just a little tired from paperwork.”

Lappland’s smile grew a bit. “Really? Paper?”

“Ugh… Well…”

Lappland giggled. It was a weirdly cute noise coming from someone who made mountains of corpses. She walked over to the Doctor’s side.

“I was going to get something to eat. Are you headed to the cafeteria, Doctor?” Lappland asked.

“I am,” the hooded man replied tentatively.

“Then I’m coming along with you.”

The Doctor shrugged and they walked together. He had no problem with Lappland alongside him, especially because she liked to do her own thing regardless of anyone's protests.

“What are you getting?” Lappland asked.

“Maybe something with rice,” the Doctor replied.

“Not more leaves?”

The Doctor suppressed a look of surprise. But, no, Lappland couldn’t have known about the memory. Instead, he adopted a more natural frown of annoyance.

“I can eat more than just salads, alright? It was just that one time with Hibiscus.”

“What was it she said, again? ‘Twelve different kinds of vegetables?’ How did you not get poisoned from that?”

“Don’t exaggerate. I ate it and I’m fine. It’s not good to be eating meat all the time, you know.”

“I’d rather have pasta.”

“Pasta? What’s that?”

“A kind of noodles from Siracusa.”

There was a pause. Lappland wasn’t saying anything. The Doctor looked at the Lupo, but her expression was blank, her wolf ears still.

“Lappland?” he asked.

“Hey, I think they have pasta in the cafeteria. I think if you tried it, you’ll understand my tastes better.”

“Uh, okay…”

This conversation was over, or so the Doctor understood the pause. They continued to walk, taking a few more turns and paths until the next corridor opened up into somewhere much bigger.

Rhodes Island did not quite qualify as a Nomadic City with their huge cityscapes and skyscrapers, but it was made using RIM Billiton’s gargantuan transportation technology, and with the many people Rhodes employed along with their families, not to mention the different, large facilities they made use of and the Catastrophes they must avoid, being self-sustainable was a must for the organization. Besides, while Rhodes may field a paramilitary force, it was still a medical company at the end of the day. An open space was a necessity for its patients.

This was what the Doctor saw. Small, lustrous, nearly identical buildings, each meant for a specific purpose. Hubbubs of people. Streets big enough for a car to move through. People young and old playing around the bases of apartments and dormitories. A little green park also acting as a crossroads. And this was just one floor of the five making up the hub. A flat, transparent skylight encompassed the entire hub overhead and allowed sunlight to come in, painting the place in a slightly orange hue.

The Main Hub was quite a sight for the Doctor when he first saw this—as an amnesiac, that was. Most newcomers would come through this area first, forgiven for thinking that Rhodes Island was a town and not a scientifically advanced base.

“It’s Lappland…”

“Hey, is that really the Doctor?”

“Yeah, it’s his jacket and all.”

“How could we forget the devil’s commander?”

“Some pair… Let’s get away.”

But like any other community, even amongst Operators used to the Infected and weird going-ons, there were lots of boundaries and unspoken rules. A lot of that was floated throughout the chattering people nearby that were just noticing the Doctor and Lappland.

The second-most important agreed upon opinion was to stay away from the craziest of crazies. The most important was to be wary of the Doctor. Even after three months of a lack of casualties, and a somewhat silly, laidback Doctor, the general populace maintained a distance from him.

Lappland seemed to take no notice of it, though. It was with this atmosphere they headed quietly for the cafeteria.

At least the public scrutiny lessened once they arrived. But much to Lappland’s muted dismay, there was no pasta.

“Sorry, Doctor, and sorry, Miss Lappland,” Gummy the Defender, and one of the current food servers at the counter, was apologizing. She was a blonde middle-school Ursus student who was popular for cooking on and off the battlefield, but her array of recipes was still limited to Ursus cuisine, consisting of hearty things like thick soups, cereal, and pancakes.

“It’s not a problem,” said the Doctor. “I’ll… have this creamy mushroom stuff.”

“That’s beef stroganoff, Doctor! And what about you, Miss Lappland?”

The Lupo looked at the displayed foods and pointed at a vat of potato salad. “I’m in the mood for vegetables. Does it have some meat, though?”

“Oh, it has chunks of beef!” answered Gummy. “But there’s a more vegetarian kind if you want—”

“No, no, I’d be glad to have meat,” Lappland cut her off. “I’ll have that salad as a side, and pancakes and bacon.”

“Oh, uh, alright! Give me a moment!”

They took their trays of food once Gummy came back. The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Lappland.

“What is it?” asked the Lupo.

“You said you didn’t like vegetables,” the Doctor recalled.

“There’s a difference between dislike and hate. Besides, I want to know more about your… interesting tastes.”

“Okay…” The Doctor looked around for an empty bench, but the ones nearest to them were occupied. The two moved towards the unoccupied ones further ahead. “What for?”

“Because you’re actually like Texas.”

The Doctor nearly stumbled, but Lappland was already moving an elbow into the Doctor’s chest, steadying him without so much as a grunt from either of the two. She grinned when she saw suspicion and confusion written all over his face, or rather, eye.

“Ha ha! To see your body language matching your expressions is really interesting! I should've just stolen that mask of yours earlier.”

“I did not appreciate that. And that would be theft. Anyway, there, an empty table.”

They sat at the table. No one else was there, but that was fine for the both of them, or rather, Lappland was used to being alone.

“So…” the Doctor started, composing questions in his mind, “what do you mean, me being like Texas?”

Lappland ticked off points by raising fingers, “You’re both calm, suave, think you have responsibilities, tend to explode emotionally, have friends, have moments of solitude, like sweets—though you can't eat them much, Doctor…”

“I better not be hearing some secrets next, Lappland.”

“And you are both incredible fighters and cowards.”

The Doctor stiffened up. Lappland was giving him that look, the kind she would gaze at Texas with. Not predatory, but hungry, bloodthirsty, focused—and anxious, and insane.

“Um…” The Doctor took down his hood and loosened his scarf; he still wanted to eat. “Meaning…?”

Lappland raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “You’re repressing that side of yourself, though I could be wrong. At least, I don’t think you are consciously or unconsciously doing so with your amnesia right now, but I remembered that steadfast back of yours during those missions, and that one time in the wilds, when you perfectly threw the me who underestimated you!”

Her wolf ears were waving around excitedly. The Doctor chewed on a piece of beef thoughtfully, but he was trying to hide his anxiousness. How long had Lappland been with Rhodes Island? He remembered she was here for over a year, so she had been here for at least a month before pre-amnesiac Doctor left for reasons still unknown. Could she tell more about his past?

“'Threw you? Underestimated me?' Can you elaborate?” he asked.

Lappland giggled darkly, not humorously. “I remembered Dr. Kal’tsit’s warnings about you, especially about being too weak to reliably fend off assailants. You were not a cripple even when you gave off that image with a cane, but you fare poorly up close,” she said, earning a sigh from the Doctor. “Yes, rightfully so like the unfit you right now, but you were practically fearless before, so steadfast, so… knowledgeable when it came to warfare and combat.”

“Then there was that time we were alone in a forest. We were just clearing out the rest of the bandits. You had me guarding you while the rest of the Operators looked around the area. And, wondering just how well you do in an ambush—a betrayal—I lunged at you. Just a pounce that let me knock your mask off, but there you were, tripping me with that cane you had, grabbing me with one hand and letting me fall past you. By the time I got up…”

The warning bells in the Doctor's head had long since gone off when they sat down for what he thought was a chat. Now he was drawn in. By Lappland as a person? The contents? Or the madness displayed? Either way, he couldn't help but stay rooted in his seat.

She shuddered gleefully, head down and fringe hiding her face in a silvery, shadowed veil. A low laugh came from her as she hugged herself. “Hehahahaha… Oh gods, I thought you were Texas’s brother when I saw your face. That face. I could have kicked you off, but your eye was… mesmerizing. You had your cane resting on my ribs. Had you leaned in and stabbed…? Ahahaha~”

Lappland suddenly lurched forwards over the table. The Doctor, already jumpy, nearly fell backwards. Her grin seemed to come close splitting her face open. Her pupils rippled in the light like it did on water: uncontrollably.

“Hey, hey, Master, when are you going to be fighting again?” she pleaded oh so quietly.

“Lappland, off of him.”

A gloved, fingers-bared hand took hold of the white-haired Lupo’s shoulder and pulled her back. It wasn’t light, so Lappland slammed into her seat.

The Lupo's manic grin was wider, though. “Oh. Texas,” she greeted, a sudden quiet creeping back into her voice.

A black-haired Lupo stood behind Lappland, an open box of chocolate-covered sticks in hand, amber eyes staring the other Lupo down with clear disdain. She wore a white jacket, a black mantle, ID tag, black shorts, stockings, and sneakers; her uniform, the Doctor appraised, without her bag. The Operator from Penguin Logistics was not acting as calm as usual, though.

Texas nodded to the tactician. “Doctor, are you alright?” she asked. He noticed that the other Guard Operator’s hand was gripping Lappland’s shoulder very tightly.

Deciding this shouldn't have to get worse, he frantically waved a hand dismissively, saying, “No, I’m fine! We were just talking, and, you know, it’s Lappland. Weird is my kind of normal by now.”

The cool woman sighed and let go of Lappland. “I told you, you don’t have to keep talking to her. One of these days you’ll regret it.”

“Oh Texas, don’t you realize this is practically like Exusiai you’re talking to?” Lappland said, not seeming bothered by what happened. “Our Master is too kind for that.”

“Leave Exusiai out of this, and don’t call him Master,” ordered Texas. “He’s just Doctor.”

“How snappy! And refreshing. You barely talk to me like this, much less any time,” whined Lappland. Then she turned to the Doctor with a wide smile. “Then, Master, what do you think of me calling you that?”

“Uh…” The Doctor wasn’t sure what to say, but he felt Texas’s piercing gaze on him. “It doesn’t really matter whatever you call me. I’m fine with it, but only in private, at least. Though, why ‘Master’?”

“Because you are a master in a few ways: fighting in particular, even when you have forgotten, and my loyalty to you.” Lappland bowed her head. “As I said once, I look forward to where you and Rhodes Island take me… Doctor.”

Those words contained much intensity. The Doctor looked back into Lappland’s silver eyes. They were usually… stormy, if he were to describe them. Whatever feelings that reflected in Lappland's eyes were hard to pinpoint. Now they were clear, a sudden calm in the madness the wolf-girl was known for.

The Doctor smiled back, a little unsure seeing as they were in public and everyone around him was watching and gossiping. This was probably going onto Rhodes Island's daily news somehow. But this was his life now. Months ago he would have hesitated, but he knew there were people like Lappland who need help. That was what the Island did, and the Doctor believed in it.

Texas had an unreadable expression on her face. Her wolf ears seemed to frown as they lowered themselves.

“As I said, you won’t get anything but trouble with this girl, Doctor,” said Texas, disapproval lacing her words. “Good day.”

She walked off towards a red-haired Sankta—Exusiai herself—dressed in similar uniform, with yellow, glowing, crystalline wings like shards of glass floating behind her and a halo hovering over her head. She had just come into the cafeteria and was waving Texas over.

“You know,” Lappland said, “there’s another reason why I am interested in you. I think you are a master at that kind of thing, too.”

“Ah… which is?” the Doctor asked warily.

“Texas likes you,” Lappland replied. Loudly.

Said black-haired Lupo froze up, furred ears shooting up like exclamation marks. Exusiai called to her in surprise, but then Texas walked off as if nothing happened. The whispers around them intensified.

“…Lappland…” the Doctor said tiredly. He could imagine the rumors surrounding him getting harder to deal with.

The psychotic girl was already eating, shrugging at him as if saying ‘So what? It’s true’, and grinned.

Exusiai was chuckling much to Texas’s chagrin once they were out in the lounge.

“Wow, it had been Dr. Kal’tsit at first, but people have been shipping Leader with a couple of Operators here, and guys too!” Exusiai remarked. She stroked her imaginary beard. “So what’re your chances of getting together with our good—”

“Shut it,” Texas cut her partner off and walked ahead.

Exusiai hurried alongside her. “What? It’s not like you actually like him, right?”

“I don’t.”

“…Fast reply.”

“So it is. What about it?”

“Uh… nothing. You get snappy whenever it comes to the Doctor, these days.”

“There’s nothing between me and the Doctor.”

Texas was really focused on that point, Exusiai thought, not to mention acting uncomfortable. Then the Sniper Operator stopped and stared at Texas for a moment.

“Uwah… don’t tell me…”

“I’m going.”

“Whoa, come on, we’re best buddies! Come on and tell Auntie Exu!”

“Shut up.”

From a distance, Angelina Ajimu, a twin-tailed brunette Vulpo in red and white, and a gravity-warping Specialist, bit her lip. She wanted to talk to the Doctor, but at the moment he was sharing a table with the infamous Lupo, the one who made mincemeat of her enemies on the battlefield. She shook her head and decided this wasn’t the time.

She looked at the letter in her hand and pocketed it. This just might be what the Doctor needed.

Chapter Text

Measured. Gentle. Professional.

These were the kinds of words an average patient of Rhodes Island would think when they receive personal sessions from Dr. Kal’tsit, a green-eyed, white-haired lynx-type Ancient usually wearing a lab coat over a green dress, as well as Head of the Medical Department, and one of the unquestioned core leaders of the organization. Despite her professional disposition, anyone could trust her.

But being a doctor was just one side to her. The masked Doctor could attest to that.

“You walking excuse for a plankton,” she told him one day in her office.

The Doctor stopped in front of her desk, holding a stack of folders containing reports that went from his thighs to his chin. He set it down on the desk, resisting the urge to massage his sore arms or to walk out of the room right at that moment and save them a fruitless argument. But he had something to talk about with Kal’tsit.

“That’s new. Am I really that weak?” he replied evenly.

“Shut it. Is it in your nature to throw yourself into the meat grinder of every situation?”

The Doctor couldn’t help but flinch. He wasn’t even hit, but being verbally abused like this was routine. And familiar, somehow.

“What’s this about?” he asked.

Kal’tsit rarely expressed herself with her face, but it came close to a scowl. “About everything that happened before. Most recent was rushing into an Originium-contaminated pit. What happened to being the tactical advisor?”

“That mission? We were incredibly shorthanded! It was that or leave those children there.”

“I can respect that, but what would have happened if you were injured, or worse? You are not particularly athletic.”

“We were on a mission to rescue survivors. I had a working mask. I could wait, but what would be the point had the children contracted Oripathy?”

“We could have treated them right after had you waited. We could have done it without long-term Oripathy occurring. You had no need to risk contracting Oripathy too.”

One of the Doctor’s hands curled up tightly. “Treatment? Those kinds of successes happened by chance! That’s not a cure-all and you know it.”

Both doctors looked at each other. Kal’tsit’s lynx ears lowered themselves in wariness. Having heated talks like this was another routine thing between them, acting so angrily, tiredly… sadly, for both him and Kal’tsit. Here in the office, standing and cooling down, the stern woman’s gaze felt heavy on the Doctor for some reason.

Then Kal’tsit turned away to look at her computer. “It’s not just the danger you put yourself in that has the Operators worried. Your body can’t handle so many strenuous activities. Amiya and everyone else would be worried if they knew how badly it can be for you.”

“I know that!” snapped the Doctor. “I just don’t want it to happen again.”

“Again…?” repeated Kal’tsit.

The Doctor paused. It came out of his mouth without thinking. Was it his memories acting up again?

He shook his head and went over to the door out of Kal’tsit’s office. He always hated how he felt out of sorts by talking with the other doctor, and right now he wasn’t sure what he would say if they argued more. The woman wouldn’t bother with answering his questions about his past anyways.

Then he remembered the other thing he came here for. “By the way, I have a message addressed to you from a ‘Dr. Saria’ of Rhine Lab,” he said.

Dr. Kal’tsit was sipping from her mug of coffee when she heard the Doctor. She did not spit out the coffee. Instead, she drank probably a half of the mug’s contents before rounding on him with a glare, much to the Doctor’s dark satisfaction.

“This better not be a joke,” she said, injecting pure venom into her tone. “Anything to do with Rhine Labs or a doctor like her is not someone to make light of in our field.”

“It isn’t!” The Doctor raised his hands in a show of innocence. “I only got the letter from Angelina an hour ago and had it checked by a few trap experts. It’s in the top folder.”

He nodded to the stack of reports on her desk. Kal’tsit took the paper envelope out of the topmost folder, shook it for any strange sounds just in case, tore it open and unfolded a sheet of paper. Then she read.

“What did this doctor say?” the Doctor asked.

“Her arrival is at four o’clock in the afternoon; nearly two hours from now.” Kal’tsit gave the Doctor the letter as he moved over for a look. He read its brief contents, which consisted of a polite greeting and a meeting request, with a photo of a cold-looking white-haired woman with horns on the sides of her head: a Vouivre, said to be Ancients descended from the mythical ‘wyverns’. “She will be coming through the public caravan, quietly. I assume you want to be the one welcoming her?”

“I do.” The Doctor put the letter back on the desk. “I don’t have much to do right at the moment, anyway.”

Kal’tsit sighed as she thought of what she wanted the Doctor to do with Saria. Accepting sudden visitors, or recruitments out of the blue, was common. But the administration work involved, not to mention the situation of a formerly high-ranking Rhine Lab employee who kept herself hidden until now, would be trouble to deal with.

“Do you happen to know who Dr. Saria is?” asked the Head Medic.

“Ifrit’s, uh, guardian, other than Silence. The girl misses her, while the doctor pretty much hates her. Other than that, all I know is that Dr. Saria used to work at Rhine Lab.”

“Have her show her credentials, if any. Even if she lacks them, keep her here for me to talk to. And whatever you do, ensure that Silence and Ifrit do not meet Dr. Saria or we will be facing unneeded drama between the three of them.”

“Got it.”

Kal’tsit raised an eyebrow. “I thought you would have them reunite, just like one of those sappy family reunions.”

The Doctor shrugged. “I’m not as dumb as you think to have Silence suddenly be ready for Saria, if that’s what you’re thinking. I know about the emotional turmoil inside her enough not to spring this on her. I’ll just try to get the three together at a better time.”

“It better not be tomorrow. That is still too soon.”

“It depends.” There was a long, wistful tone in his voice when he remarked, “If Ifrit, Silence, and Dr. Saria met right now, it might be a disaster like you said, but they’d have to meet each other sooner or later. Maybe things aren’t so bad as it seems between the two doctors. Besides, no matter what happens, we’re here to help where we can.”

“You meddle too much for your own good.” Kal’tsit shook her head out of resignation. “Amiya must have learned those kinds of bad habits from you.”

The Doctor smiled under his mask. “Rhodes interferes in matters like this all the time. And Amiya wouldn’t be our adorable leader otherwise, right?”

“It’s not a compliment.”

The Doctor chuckled. “I’ll take my lunch break before waiting at the bay. Should I send her to your office?”

The Head Medic shook her head. She would have said something about the Doctor taking this as a chance to skip leftover paperwork, but handling Operators, including potential would-bes, was technically his job, and he wasn’t one to leave any immediate issues leftover.

“I still have a few meetings to attend. For now, you may handle Dr. Saria’s first impression of Rhodes Island. Send her to my office then at seven o’clock. I need not remind you of how important this is.”

The masked man nodded. “All right. See you later, Doctor.”

Kal’tsit watched the door slide aside and the Doctor, musing, “You’re not using my name…? Though, I’m not one to talk.”

Dr. Kal’tsit was the Head of Rhodes Island’s Medical Department, living in a mobile base known as the Ark where thousands of differences separated many of its inhabitants from the average societies throughout the world. This society of theirs primarily operated on the basis that everyone helps each other, but the Head Medic was depended upon by many people for her services. She was a calm role model to follow, someone who would listen to one prattle on, and even a savior at times.

Though, the Doctor had been here as long as she had, establishing a reputation and adoration amongst... certain Operators that dated back to the founding of Rhodes Island, and even before that. Today, he was more of the kind of person who could tackle the extreme sorts of people that even Rhodes Island had a hard time accepting, as demonstrated with Lappland the other day. For a tactician who proved himself in the past few months, he was still a simple, fumbling, childish amnesiac discovering and re-discovering the world around him with every mission embarked on and every Operator recruited.

He was not the Doctor after that war, Kal’tsit had realized. Besides his personal insights and the curious researcher inside him, maybe that was why the Doctor was so drawn to everyone he met.

That said, the man could be… unconventional at times.

Saria was a Vouivre woman, one with twin pairs of black horns on the sides of her head, tipped orange, and a long tail with scales of black fading into star-spiked tip, also orange, coming out of her rear end. Her long straight hair was the color of ashen steel, her eyes were a dull amber, her skin was pale, and her black overcoat covered the rest of her body save for her black shoes and her tail that nearly dragged itself on the ground.

She was also tall for a Vouivre. At least, her white hair jutted over the small crowd of passengers when she stood up, got off the bus, ignored stares from the onlookers and retrieved her luggage. With an unassuming brown suitcase in the left hand and a fat travel case on wheels in the right, she looked around Rhodes Island’s busy vehicle bay for… anyone who looked like they were waiting for her.

The former director was not expecting anyone to be there for her. Her message was sent on short notice after all, let alone the fact that there was no suitable way for a reply. She would admit that it had been more of an impulse when she heard of Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals heading her way, but she swore to stop any more of Rhine Lab’s experiments being replicated, and where else to be sure of that but a leading organization on Oripathy, filled with Infected patients that could become more flame demons?

No, not while she lived.

Saria headed for a raised platform at the back of the bay, where passengers congregated into a crowd went through a security checkpoint. The inspection line was made up of metal gates, stands, sensors, and guards arranged at intervals, equipped with various assortments of non-lethal weapons; Saria thought one of them was an Arts-user, judging by the wand on one woman’s hip. Once she passed the inspections, she could ask for Dr. Kal’tsit of the Medical Department, to whom she sent the letter to, or Amiya, leader of Rhodes Island. Both were in positions to discuss matters.

However, standing out was a young-looking man with messy black hair and an average build, a few centimeters shorter than her, wearing a floppy-looking cap, a white scientist’s coat, baggy black pants, black gloves, and a black jacket with lines of Rhodes Island-blue tied around his waist. He wore sunglasses, though the straps of a medical eye patch can be seen wrapping around his left eye. He showed no appendages characteristic of most Ancients. He stood there on the platform, by the railings, hands on his hips and scanning the crowd.

Then he saw Saria and waved to her.

Saria had no idea who this person was. A random waving person? An actual member of Rhodes Island? Their high-ranking representative? Or a stranger in disguise sent ahead of the former doctor to trick her into being kidnapped? Many scenarios unfolded in her mind as the former head of Rhine Lab’s security speculated before deciding that it was pointless if she did nothing.

At the very least, she could ask and glean the person’s intentions. Saria’s combat equipment was kept inside her larger case, but she could swing that huge bag around if she wanted to. She kept watch on the hooded person waiting for her, a fist hidden, as she moved along with the trickling crowd of visitors towards the platform.

“Hello there!” the man greeted as Saria moved within earshot, confirming that he was looking for her. The Vouivre thought his accent was Columbian, a soft, confident tone, deliberately adjusted to be heard over the chatter of the passing crowds but not needlessly grabbing attention. “Are you Dr. Saria?”

“I am,” the woman replied politely. “May I ask for your name?”

“Call me Doctor. And yes, it really is my only name.”

Then he smiled. Saria… stiffened at the sight.

What was brought to the Vouivre’s mind was the grin of another woman. This ‘Doctor’ was not grinning, but the shape of his face and the air he exuded came close. Saria could almost hear her laughter, her capriciousness…

He reached out for a handshake. “How do you do?” he asked.

For once in a long time, caught up in her thoughts, Saria hesitated. The Doctor noticed this.

“Is… everything fine, madam?” he inquired worriedly.

“…No, it was nothing. I thought you looked similar to a friend of mine,” admitted Saria, inwardly cursing herself for that moment of vulnerability. This man must be just a look-alike.

“Well, if you say so.” He turned around and gestured to an inspection stand. “Please follow me, Miss. We can talk more in my office.”

They walked over to the stand. No one was lining up for it so the two walked up to the guard manning it. Like the Doctor, he was dressed in a black and blue jacket.

“Please show your identification and state your business,” said the guard.

“I work here. And this woman is with me,” replied the Doctor as he pulled out an ID card—the photo was of someone in black with a full glassy mask and hood over it—and gave it to the guard. The guard took it and put it through a scanner…

The guard did a double take at the young man in front of him then looked at the computer bringing up information.

“I, uh, please go through, Doctor. And… you, ma’am?”

Noting the interesting reaction, Saria gave the appropriate credentials, had her luggage passed through detectors, and the two moved past the checkpoint without a hitch. The Vouivre looked down on the Doctor by the gate, thinking.

“What is it, Miss?” the Doctor asked when he noticed her staring.

“Who are you, really?” asked Saria, feeling she may as well press for answers. “I have heard of Rhodes Island's officers, but not one like you. That guard practically changed his attitude, and I can’t help but wonder why.”

The Doctor rubbed the back of his head. “Mm… can I ask a favor of you?”

“If it is within reason.”

“Not a lot of people here have seen my face yet.” The Doctor looked around, though with anticipation rather than fear, not unlike a prankster. “I was thinking of going through the whole day incognito, just to test it out. I’ll tell you more about me once we reach the office.”

“Very well.” Saria nodded in consent. He seemed harmless at the very least, and inside a base full of civilians and guards, the attention it would attract would spell trouble not worth taking Saria on with. “If you would lead?” she asked.

The Doctor’s smile widened. Saria couldn’t help but be reminded of a certain fiery girl’s smile. “Thank you. Now, like I said, just follow me.”

They made their way past a crowd. Saria noted the number of Infected, indicated by the black crystal lesions on their skin here and there, and a wide entrance where she saw the crowds thickening. A bright light streamed from above, making for a sudden change from the tight interiors they went through.

“That’s the main hub,” the Doctor remarked. “Maybe I’ll show you around that place, but for now, the elevator’s this way.”

They walked over to a row of elevators where they joined a few people, some dressed in black and blue. The rest stuck out in their wild colors and varied outfits, but all of them had an ID card clipped onto their clothes or were chatting about work. The obvious lack of a standard uniform would have been frowned upon in a more disciplined workplace.

“Say, Miss Saria? Are you here to join Rhodes?” asked the Doctor who was by Saria’s side.

“What made you think that?” she asked back.

The Doctor waved a hand at the people before them, dressed in Rhodes Island’s colors or in colors indicative of their unique backgrounds, Infected and non-Infected alike. “We get lots of people here who join us. I hear lots of stories from them, and usually it’s because they’re running from something, or they want something here. What did you come here for?”

“…To ensure great power does not overstep boundaries, if I must say.”

“That sounds confusing.”

“True. But I know what I want to do here regardless.”

The Doctor innocently tilted his head, which told Saria that he was still confused by what she meant. It was an action the Vouivre would have associated with a child that stoked her curiosity about this person. So far, he acted like an average, polite, carefree office worker, albeit one significantly high on the chain of command.

Once the elevator arrived, the two took it down to a lower floor and emerged in a wide corridor. Here, the flow of people was smaller and more orderly, but no less lively. The Doctor led Saria down the corridor and through pathway over pathway, the noise of the staff getting quieter with every turn until they finally arrived at a door.

Glued to the wall beside it was a simple paper sign with the word ‘DOCTOR’ scribbled onto it.

“Don’t ask me why there was this piece of paper instead of a proper plaque,” the Doctor quickly said when Saria looked at him for an explanation. “The construction team was told by the previous owner not to do anything about this office, not even a plaque, and it didn’t cross my mind to change it with how busy I was.”

“You should. This makeshift sign poorly reflects the nature of your position,” Saria admonished—gently, when she realized she was essentially talking down a possibly important figure in Rhodes Island, not some rookie in Rhine Lab. “People would gain a wrong impression of you, and it may affect your authority if your subordinates don’t take you seriously.”

“Gee, you sure sound like Kal’tsit.”

“My apologies. But I do not really approve of this.”

“It’s fine. You practically sound like an angel compared to that woman, though I don’t think a fancier tag would do much for my image these days. Anyway, let’s move in.”

The Doctor pressed his ID card to the door’s scanner, making it slide out of the way.

“Here’s my office. If you want, you can hang your coat over that rack— wait, Ifrit!?”

Unlike Saria’s first meeting with the Doctor in which she hesitated, she went absolutely still over hearing that name. Then she reacted by stepping back outside.

Inside the office, Saria heard the Doctor talking to that unmistakably obnoxious voice.

“Uh, who are you again…? Oh, yeah, it’s you Doctor! What’s with those black glasses? And why do you sound like that? Didn’t like me snooping around or something? Or you don’t like me now? I’ll do what I want, alright!?”

“It’s not that, Ifrit. I have an important guest and, well, it’s supposed to be a surprise for everyone.”

“What? Someone new is joining us? Show me then! It better not be another white-coat guy, though.”

“Then what would be the point of a surprise? Anyway, give me a moment to talk with— Ifrit, wait!”

A blur of white and hazel raced out of the door. She was heads shorter than Saria, but the former director knew the black, crystal horns on top of the child’s head, and those golden slits in her eyes surrounded by orange red, like fire around a core. Her hazel hair was done in pigtails now, and she was dressed well—not in that plain medical white gown, but in a white cloak and a black dress.

Saria took this image of Ifrit in. In the same moment, the Doctor rushed out of the office as Ifrit stared up at the woman before her.

“…Saria?” uttered Ifrit, all the boisterousness gone from her. She stepped… and jumped at the taller woman.

Saria reflexively grabbed Ifrit under the arms. The girl took advantage of this to pull the taller woman in for a hug.

Ifrit leaned back for a look at Saria’s face, as though she would disappear even before her very eyes. The little pyromancer’s grin looked like it would split her face apart. “You’re here!” she shouted.

“I am,” Saria agreed. And on her face was a little smile she allowed for herself.

The Doctor had ushered Saria and Ifrit into his office, hanging up a sign that said ‘MEETING IN PROGRESS – KNOCK FIRST’ on the door and closed it.

The two from Rhine Lab were talking as they sat on a sofa—which was mostly Ifrit shouting questions and Saria answering calmly.

“Where have you been!?” Ifrit was close to blowing up, and not just metaphorically. Smoke could be seen trailing from her hair. The temperature in the room shot up by a degree or two.

“Ifrit, I can answer those questions later. I have matters to discuss—”

“No, no,” the Doctor interrupted as he walked over to his desk, “I haven’t told you this, but Dr. Kal’tsit will see you at seven in the evening; I’m just here to welcome you. Go ahead and chat all you want— Ifrit, don’t tell me this is what’s left of your homework.”

He held up half a sheet of paper. The ends were charred black.

“I really did it!” Ifrit insisted. “You can see my name and answers and all, right?”

“Half of the answers are missing. Also, I am not a psychic.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Well, I’ll consider this really done if you answer me this: what is a synonym for 'malady'?”

“Wh… Synonym?”

“A word that is similar in meaning with a different word. Give me a word that means the same as ‘malady’.”

“Ma... Malady… Ugh…”

The Doctor crossed his arms and sat down on the sofa opposite of Saria and Ifrit as he looked at the flame-throwing girl struggle with the word. Saria was quietly assessing the relationship based on this exchange when Ifrit exclaimed.

“Milady!”

“That is essentially short for ‘my lady’ and is used to address women of high standing, which is popular in...?”

“Victoria! There was a show about it. So does it mean I’m right?”

“No. Think again.”

“Coffee.”

“You’re thinking of rhymes. Also, coffee is a beverage with unclear origins, but said to have been invented in Columbia. By the way, what does it have that keeps you up at night?”

“Uh… nicotine…?”

“That’s from smoking cigarettes.”

“I mean, caffeine!”

“Correct! And no, ‘coffee’ has nothing to do with ‘malady’, although it can be the cause of one kind.”

“Aw…”

“Do you want to give up?”

“No, shut up! I wanna show Saria how much I know now!”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. Then he smiled. “Alright, then. You have five minutes.” Then he addressed the former director who remained silent, “Sorry, Miss Saria, but I’m more or less a tutor in general subjects in my off time.”

“It’s fine,” Saria said. There was a soft look in her eyes as she gazed at Ifrit, eyes shut, exaggeratedly wringing her head this way and that for an answer. “Education… actual time to study anything was a chance she never got, back at that place.”

The Doctor glanced at Ifrit and leaned in close to Saria. “I heard from Silence and Ifrit that Rhine Lab does… illegal experiments,” he whispered.

Saria nodded hesitantly; that information was supposed to be a well-kept secret. “Yes… Rhine Lab does. Olivia... Olivia Silence is here?”

“Yes. She came to Rhodes Island with Ifrit around a year ago, I think.”

“Of course. That woman swore to protect Ifrit, after all.”

The two fell into silence while Ifrit groaned and muttered to herself.

“So… are you really joining us?” the Doctor asked.

“I am,” Saria answered. “What process should I go through to do so?”

“Well, there’s a battery of tests our Human Resources Department holds for recruits. Subjects include academics, Originium Arts, background checks, fitness, fighting; a basic interview, though I don’t think you’ll have a problem with the physical part of things.”

“How would you know I’d do well in physical tests?”

“Hm…” The Doctor made a slight pout in one cheek, thinking. “I’m a sort-of administrator for all Operators here.”

“Administrator?”

“Officially, I am a tactical advisor that leads field Operators, mostly on the field. I am also a base planner, though we have a head engineer for the R.I.I.C. I work with for those issues. In other words, I manage Rhodes Island’s Operator activities, though I’ve never recruited or interviewed someone in person before since it’s mostly Dr. Kal’tsit that takes the… ‘special cases’. Most of the time, I’m just authorizing recommendations or looking into backgrounds.”

“I am not certain that explanation was sufficient.”

“Don’t worry. I’m supposedly a doctor with a degree in neurology who researched Oripathy too.” The Doctor sighed. “I don’t think even Amiya or Dr. Kal’tsit really know what I did back then.”

To her credit, Saria processed all of this without a word and asked, “What did you mean, ‘back then’?”

“I have amnesia.” Saria stared at him. The Doctor chuckled. “You heard me right. I’m still recovering my memories, but it’s… frustrating sometimes, to know I’m missing something.”

“I apologize. I did not mean to bring up grievances.”

“It’s fine. You asked, I answered. Speaking of which… Ifrit? Your answer?”

The girl started and shouted, “Puking!”

“That’s a result of a malady.”

“Oh, of course, sickness!”

The Doctor lightly clapped his hands together. “Correct! Have a gold star for taking fifteen minutes to come up with one word we always use in Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals, that one thing our company always treats!”

Ifrit tried not to pout or glare or start a fire. “C-C’mon, quit talking to me like that. I got it right!”

“You did, though it really means we have to work on your vocabulary.” The Doctor went over to Ifrit, his hand reaching out to ruffle her hair. “Still, you managed to answer the other questions I threw your way. You’re not just befitting the title of the best pyromancer, you truly are on your way to becoming knowledgeable, Lady Ifrit.”

“Grr… Don’t give me that smile! H-Hey, you’ll mess up my hair like that! Stop that!”

The Doctor grinned. Ifrit let out another frustrated growl, but she was not throwing a fit or spitting literal fire or any number of actions that would have sent anyone involved with science packing. Saria, feeling like she was an intruder to this scene, could only marvel at this side of Ifrit quietly.

Was this what Silence did? And who was this Doctor to be so close to Ifrit? What happened? Saria wondered what was Rhodes Island ever since it surfaced in the medical world years ago. Now, seeing all this, she had more questions.

Saria thought of one now. Or she did, when Ifrit ran up to Saria and demanded a harder question and Silence came into the room. Ifrit’s guardian spotted the two at first and remarked lightly.

“Doctor, Ifrit, I see that—”

Then the woman went still, staring at the one face she abhorred ever since she left Rhine Lab. Saria returned the stare, tensing.

Silence was much like what former director remembered: short brown hair in a curly bowl cut, round black glasses, and wearing a white cloak designed similarly to Ifrit’s. She was a Liberi, Ancients composed of feathered people, made clear with the brown feathers on her head and the huge wing underneath her cloak.

Her amber eyes were usually droopy, a sign of her drowsiness coming on as part of being an owl-type Liberi, or a side-effect of Oripathy causing Silence to sleep at irregular times. However, they were wide awake now.

An absolute loathing lit them up.

“It’s… you…!” Silence murmurs turned into a shout. “Get back, Ifrit!”

“S-Silence?” Ifrit stammered, looking between Saria and Silence. She was bewildered by this change from Silence’s calm demeanor, but the scientist was not having any of it.

“Ifrit!” Silence called again, dashing in and interposing herself between Ifrit and Saria as though the former director would snatch up a prey before her. “Why are you here, Saria?”

For her part, Saria had many emotions running through her, many things unsaid that she wanted to say to the two. But her voice was flat when she answered.

“To join Rhodes Island.” A pause came before Saria spoke again, “I do not mean any harm.”

“Do you, now?” Silence spat. “Ifrit, we should leave.”

“But… it’s Saria!” Ifrit protested. Weakly; the girl was always one to listen to Silence, but Saria was a precious person too. “What’s with you, Silence?”

“You do not know the danger she poses.” Silence gripped Ifrit by the shoulder and steered her towards the door. “Let us leave. Now.” There was no room for compromise, but Ifrit pulled back.

“No! I still have so much to talk with Saria about!”

“Silence, hold on,” the Doctor finally stepped into the conversation. He had been looking between the three indecisively until he decided he had to stop this from getting heated further. “It’s not like Saria did anything to Ifrit while we were here earlier. If Saria wanted to, I know she could have—”

“Earlier!?” Silence whirled on the Doctor. Her glare made him shift back. “It could all have been a trap, to deceive! She could have taken you and Ifrit hostage!”

“In a base full of armed personnel? Look, a lot of things could have happened but they did not.”

“And what about later? What would happen then?”

Silence glared at him questioningly. Ifrit became unsure of what else to say as she glanced between the Doctor and Silence and Saria, who remained silent.

The Doctor kept a level tone. “I honestly cannot say. Olivia, please, for the time being, leave with Ifrit and calm down.”

“Doctor!?” Ifrit exclaimed. “Why are you siding with Silence?”

“Miss Saria here still needs time to get used to Rhodes Island. She may be considering employment, but she is not formally a member until then. Furthermore… you three, Silence especially, need time alone.”

Ifrit considered the words, then stopped trying to pull herself out of Silence’s grip. “Fine…” she muttered.

“Miss Saria, Silence, are you all right with this arrangement?” asked the Doctor.

Saria nodded wordlessly. What use was there in arguing when the Vouivre herself had nothing she could say right now?

In contrast, Silence had nothing more than a withering look for Saria. “Ifrit. Let’s be gone from here. And… accept my apologies for the outburst, Doctor.”

“No worries, Olivia,” he replied. “Just rest easy and keep quiet about Miss Saria for the time being. We can talk more later.”

After that note, the Liberi woman and her young charge, who looked back at Saria, were gone in a quiet moment. The Doctor sighed.

“Miss Saria? Are you alright?” he asked her.

Saria kept still. “I am.”

“You can’t possibly be that fine with this situation.”

“I can.”

“You might have to talk to them again. Don’t you want to?”

“I do not need to.” Saria was being stubborn, she knew that, but that one incident in the past truly changed the lives between the three. She opted for a change in the subject. “May I stay here until Dr. Kal’tsit is ready to see me?”

The Doctor paused before saying, “You don’t have to stay here in my office. Do you want to go somewhere else? I can take you there.”

Saria briefly considered saying ‘no’. She would see the rest of the Ark in due time once she was drafted in, assuming no complications rose. But in a corner of her eyes was the burnt paper Ifrit had given to the Doctor, a proof of how long she had stayed here in Rhodes Island to be this comfortable with a teacher.

Silence, too, would be around for as long as both of them were part of Rhodes Island. Only then did the thought cross Saria that, in spite of not being in her plans, she would be bound to work alongside the one person she simply did not want to be with. Not right now. Perhaps not ever.

So Saria answered, “N— yes.”

The Doctor perked up. “Well then, could you tell me what kind of place you have in mind? I might not know everything about this place, even if I’m someone in charge, but give me a thought.”

Saria’s lips pressed together. She was not in a right state of mind to be conducting any business.

“Somewhere quiet,” she said. “I would like to sort out my thoughts.”

The Doctor nodded. “Follow me then, Miss Saria. I think I have the right place in mind.”

The Ark’s top observation deck was devoid of people, sunburnt in the orange afternoon light. Saria stood alone by the railings as she felt the wind lightly fiddle with her hair.

“Miss Saria.”

The Doctor’s call made Saria look at him. The young man was wearing his jacket properly this time as he walked over to her right, two styrofoam cups in both gloved hands with steam wafting out of them.

He offered one to her. “Green tea?”

Saria nodded wordlessly and took the cup. She raised it to her lips, feeling the steam warm her face. The Doctor let out a sigh and held the railing with his free hand, watching the sun coming close to dipping on the horizon.

And that was all. The Doctor said nothing. Saria said nothing. All was quiet but for the wind and the very faint rumble of the Ark’s massive wheels tracking on the earth. Out of the corner of her eye, Saria imagined the Doctor sipping his tea and thinking of something to say. But unlike the past few hours, he did not make small talk, much less another sound.

At least, until he took off his sunglasses. Saria could not help but stare this time when she saw his right eye, a dark shade of emerald, and a left eye covered by a standard medical eye patch. The barest hint of a white, clean cut showed itself under that covered eye, but his black fringe covered the rest of his eye patch.

The Doctor hung the sunglasses onto one of his pockets and glanced at Saria. “Interested in my eyes?” he asked matter-of-factly.

“I am,” Saria admitted.

His eye seemed to twinkle as he smiled. “You don’t have to sound like it’s wrong. Just a few days ago, I showed my face in public for the first time in ever, according to the employees. I feel a little conscious of the stares, but I’m more bothered by the questions they ask.”

"Questions?" Saria was not one for chatting, but there was a subtle plea from the Doctor that made the former director want to keep the conversation going.

“Like why I kept my face hidden for so long. I usually eat with the Operators, which was a first for the Operators since I apparently did not do that before my amnesia, but I would keep part of my mask open enough for me to slip food through. It was just a pre-amnesia habit, I guess. I said that it never crossed my mind, and no one asked. Then they wondered why I did so in the first place. It won’t be long before they ask about this.” The Doctor touched his eye patch. “There is a scar over it: clean, shallow, at least four years old, but I guess whatever that cut was took out my other eye. The eyeball itself is still intact, but it keeps itself shut regardless of whether I want it open, and even if I forced it open, I can’t see anything out of it. Whenever I try to look with my left eye, I’d see only dark blurs.”

“Your condition seems to describe visual agnosia,” Saria assessed, drawing on her medical knowledge. “Why did you have a scarred eye?”

“Dr. Kal’tsit claims it was the result of a bladed attack, but other than that, she doesn’t know. After it healed back up, nothing else was done to it.”

“I see.”

"Mm-hm..."

Saria sipped her tea, seeing as she felt she had nothing else to remark about. The Doctor fidgeted a little, probably unnerved from the lack of dialogue on Saria’s part, much less himself, and drank from his cup without another word. Otherwise, they lapsed back into silence again for the second time.

It was odd. Saria thought the Doctor was a chatty person, and that showed when he elaborated on his worries and his eye just now, both of which had to be personal issues. Yet, he just shared them with a complete stranger.

“Why did you tell me so much about yourself?” she found herself asking.

The Doctor looked up and seemed to ponder upon his answer. Then he said, “First, Ifrit and Silence talk about you so much that I can’t help but think of you as a trustworthy person.”

Saria had to internally restrain herself from asking ‘What did they say?’

“Another thing is that I find you a rather patient person. And quiet. I could relax and say my entire piece without having to be interrupted, though I can’t imagine you carrying on a conversation unless it’s about something… scientific, like my eye.”

Saria said nothing about this. Communication was important when it came to coordination as a group, but personal matters tended to be kept out of her previous workplace, or resolved quickly and efficiently. Not that Saria thought herself incapable of socialization, but it had been her more social co-workers who were most fitting for the delicate task.

The Doctor made a thoughtful, humming sound. “That aside… lastly, I don’t have anything to lose saying all this because I can’t remember anything from before. I vaguely recall bits and pieces, but it’s…”

He trailed off. Saria saw his eye narrow, his easy smile twist into a blank expression. It was the kind of face Saria knew she saw before…

“Now I remember,” she suddenly said.

“Remember what?” asked the Doctor.

“You remind me of Ifrit.”

“Er…?”

“It is nothing to be concerned about. That expression of yours… I cannot help but think of Ifrit, back then, confined. So much of the world out there she wanted to see, and I think of what she missed when I see that sadness in you.”

The Doctor stared at Saria in awestruck wonder. “That sounded poetic. Have you ever written… well, poetry or anything like that?”

She inclined her head. “I have written formal reports.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Well, I don’t think you’ll fare badly when it comes to consultations too. You’ll fit in well here at Rhodes Island.”

Saria felt the ghost of a smile forming on her face. When was the last time she spoke this earnestly? Quiet, and distantly, yes, but like a… a 'friend' was one word for it, though that was too strong.

For now, perhaps.

“I think Ifrit is alright with her life here,” stated the Doctor. “Silence tells me that pyromaniac brat never smiled like that before. With the wild times I’ve spent with her, I believe you don’t have to worry so much over her. You’ll see if you stick around.”

“What made you think that?” she repeated the question for the second time today.

“When you talked about Ifrit just now. There was that weird smile you made when you met Ifrit. You look like you were going to smile all the way, but then you hold it back. What with your… lack of expressions, and the scene in the office, that was when I had the thought that you really care for Ifrit, or worry. You’re doing it now.”

Saria—curled her hand into a fist, stopping it from feeling for a curve of her lips. It was a habit that she remembered Silence pointing out. And Ifrit. And perhaps Magallan and Mayer…

“Thank you for letting me know, then,” said Saria. “I… am glad for that girl.”

“It’s only been a few hours, but I think it’s safe to say we’ll get along.” The Doctor smiled and raised his cup to her. “Let me introduce myself, Miss Saria. I am Doctor—full name still in question—somehow still a tactical advisor to Rhodes Island. I like books and music and bitter-tasting things. I am but an amnesiac scared of the future, searching for my answers to my many, many questions. But even so, if you need help, call for me and Rhodes Island. We will answer.”

The former director looked down on him. Then she touched her cup to the Doctor’s.

“I am Saria, ex-member of Rhine Lab Medical Research Institute Experimental Team. Call me Saria. As of now, I require the help of Rhodes Island to ensure there will be none who stray off their path, and to protect those dear to me. I qualify myself as a field medic and defender, but if there is a problem… ask, and I will help if I can.”

They drank the lukewarm tea.

Rhine Lab. Originium. Ifrit. Silence. Rhodes Island. The Doctor. And more issues besides.

Saria certainly will not lack for work this time.

Chapter Text

Eyjafjalla was a young girl of the Caprinae, a race consisting of people with the animalistic parts of goats. Caprinae mostly hail from Leithanien, famed in all of Terra as the leading nation-state in Originium Arts. A Catastrophe Messenger, volcanologist, and researcher of Originium and its relationship to the environment, Rhodes Island earned the envy of many academic communities for having such a prestigious Caster.

Despite being an Infected.

“…ess… at’s… it wo… s… …not…?”

Eyjafjalla shifted in her seat, noticing a bit of paper and ash on the hem of her lavender dress and brushing it off. She checked her curly brown hair for any more remains of a skill manual. Her clothing, despite the ragged edges, could afford to take more tears and corrosions; her white cloak had seen volcanoes and Catastrophes for a few years now. Even so, specialized clothing would fit such dangerous excursions better.

She kept her attention on the woman's moving lips despite her growing discomfort.

“Mm… maybe… do it… is…?”

“Er, I don’t think we should try anymore experiments here, Miss Blaze…”

In contrast to the girl’s small frame was a mumbling black-haired Feline sitting in front of her, a red hairband barely keeping knee-length hair in. She wore a white jacket partially unzipped to reveal a white tank top, a tight-fitting skirt, and belts wrapped all over haphazardly from the waist down. Her sleek tail restlessly swept the floor as she flipped pages through a blue book, a stack of similar books on the tabletop next to her.

“C’mon, you don’t have to be all polite with me, Eyja.” The shade of Blaze’s sky blue eyes reminded Eyjafjalla of a burner set to the hottest degree, fitting the bright grin she gave the younger girl—scarily well. “And hey, I think I’m getting close to refining my compression like you told me.”

“I don’t mean to offend, but I think it would be better if we weren’t testing your Arts inside a room full of equipment, unimportant or not…” Eyjafjalla ran a hand over one of her white horns and plucked out a scrap of paper.

“Hey, don’t worry!” Blaze stopped at a page, although Eyjafjalla saw that her eyes were darting up and down too quickly for ordinary reading. “All the usual Arts-proof areas are being used by a lot of new guys that there isn’t much room for my Arts. I feel like I’d lose this moment of inspiration if I didn’t do it now. And about the books… well, they’re mine anyway. I can always replace them.”

Eyjafjalla sighed. “You shouldn’t be treating books that way…”

While Eyjafjalla had been with Rhodes Island for a few weeks now, she still felt new here in the sense that she had yet to get a grasp for her… eccentric co-workers. Case in point, Blaze, a loud and spontaneous personality who insisted on training in a storage room. That said, the Feline demonstrated a level of control that Eyjafjalla cannot help but be impressed by. The ability and focus needed to maintain heat in specific areas while performing astounding physical feats could have seen Blaze a senior, if not master, of any Arts-warrior community. An Elite Operator indeed.

“—right,” Eyjafjalla heard Blaze grunt, “maybe I got something. Mind if you stand back, Eyja?”

Though the Caster wanted to protest, she could not help but wonder about the kind of Art Blaze will display. The damage it could inflict was small in scope, anyway. So, reluctantly, Eyjafjalla stood up and raised a hand, poised to throw up a warding spell.

Blaze looked at her palm. Eyjafjalla felt the temperature fluctuate around her as her skin sensed passing warmth and chills repeatedly. The Feline mouthed a word, which Eyjafjalla observed as ‘gather’.

The air shifted. Eyjafjalla felt the temperature drop back to normal. A visible haze formed over Blaze’s hand, causing a patch of air to distort in a rough sphere. Not perfectly round, but the heat was being contained in what Eyjafjalla’s faint Caster senses thought of as a running, crudely-shaped current of energy. Taken another way, maintaining such an approximately round shape was almost as good as making a perfectly round one.

“—yeah that’s not so bad,” Blaze spoke, making Eyjafjalla snap out of her examination. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s incredible! If I hadn’t asked first, I would have thought you were a talented Caster too!”

“Aw, thanks.” Blaze was bashfully scratching at the back of her head. “That means a lot coming from an incredible Caster like you. This is just a product of hard wo—”

The movement made her Arts-channeling hand shift. The sphere stuttered. Eyjafjalla saw the currents within violently threatening to unravel itself.

“Whoa— aaaaahhh—!”

Blaze let out a long yell as she clenched her channeling hand. The heat went up in the room—then—!

The sphere… held. The heat died down.

Eyjafjalla let out a tense breath, having been ready to catch the destabilizing Art. Blaze apologized nervously, “Eh-heh… sorry about the scare—”

Then Eyjafjalla heard something behind her. She picked up the very faint sound of… wood creaking, metal hinges squeaking, then footsteps. Eyjafjalla heard a Bolivian instructor’s strict voice.

Blaze perked her head up, raising her hand in greeting. The one holding compressed heat.

The sphere unraveled itself. Eyjafjalla shouted a warning—see Blaze fumble, eyes going round with shock—and a tall figure in white and orange darting in front of her—

“—so that’s why I hear that Dobermann is making Blaze clean out the toilets, why I could feel the heat off Saria after she came back from her exam, and you want advice on how to advise Blaze,” the Doctor, masked today, concluded when he heard out this girl’s problem in his office. He just finished overlooking a list of this week’s batch of recruits.

And what a mountain of papers that had been. There still was more to go through before he could start arranging for recruits to go into training sessions, let alone actual battle plans. Was there a recruitment season he wasn’t aware of? Kal’tsit gave him an odd look when he asked her that.

So was that where all the permits had gone into…? the Doctor managed to hear her murmurs as they parted ways. As in, recruitment permits?

…Back to the slightly sooty girl. She was seated on the sofa opposite of the Doctor and nodded stiffly.

“Yes, er, Mister Doctor. Should I call you that?”

“No, just ‘Doctor’. Uh…”

“What was that, Doctor?”

“I realized I haven’t asked for your name. I’m sorry, but I don’t remember a girl like you.”

The girl tilted her head before her eyes widened with surprise, then she bowed respectfully. “Ah, I’m very sorry! I forgot to introduce myself…”

“You looked shocked when Saria accompanied you here so it’s fine!” The Doctor decided not to mention the scraps of paper that fell to the office’s floor when Eyjafjalla suddenly bumped into the coat rack. That pointed to how dizzy the Caprinae was at the time before the Doctor started talking to her. “And it’s supposed to be my job to remember every Operator as much as I can. Now, let’s start over with introductions. I am the Doctor, no real name given. You are?”

The girl nodded and adopted a more professional tone as she introduced herself, “Eyjafjalla. You can just call me ‘Eyja’.”

“Ey-jaf-jal-la,” the Doctor tried the word. “That sounds familiar.”

“Oh?” Eyjafjalla sounded excited. “My parents named me after a volcano they visited in the north. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“Not really… If we are talking about types of Catastrophes then I have heard of volcanoes contaminated by Originium, but I haven’t read of Catastrophes in much detail. Er, sorry for not hearing of it?”

“You don’t have to apologize! Volcanoes are a rather specific field even for environmental scientists. Dangerous, even.”

The Doctor inclined his head in thought. “So you’re a… volcanologist? Is that why you’re helping Blaze, since you work with fire?”

“I am a volcanologist, yes, and what I do does play into my experience with heat. I am a Caster specializing in Fire Arts, you see. I have the necessary theories and experience in regards to Heat Arts, but while I could influence temperatures with my Originium Arts, Miss Blaze’s Arts is based around taking it to extreme degrees.”

“So it’s not just her attitude you have trouble with, but also the difference in implementation?”

“Yes! I heard of the insight you give to other Operators. I was wondering if you knew what I should do about it?”

“Insight?” He may be the tactical advisor, but that made him sound more like some wise sage everyone went to. “You know, I'm an amnesiac. Even if I have learnt a lot about the world and Originium Arts in the past few months, that’s not much knowledge I can boast of. I’m only a part-time tutor for a reason.”

Eyjafjalla remained insistent. “Even then, Doctor! I, um, understand that you are missing memories, but I have seen reports of how you commanded Operators while giving incredible suggestions. What’s more, Dr. Kal’tsit praised you!”

“...Wait, praise?” Now that was a shocker.

“Not directly… This is just my own thought when I spoke with her about you one day, but despite the insults she gave you, she still pays much attention to what you do. I think that’s a sign of how much she cares about you!”

“That sounds very hard to believe. And I’m supposed to be the tactician.”

“Besides that, you said you are a tutor, right? I heard about that, too! Part-time or not, not just anyone would have wanted to study under someone who doesn’t really know what they teach, or even if they don’t know but are teaching anyway, then that tutor must have worked hard for their students to still want to study with them!” Eyjafjalla gave the Doctor a confident look. “I don’t believe I made a mistake at all in wanting to learn from you.”

The Doctor wondered when this unofficial counseling service started. His job description on the public records read as something like this: Executive in charge of combat operations and tactics for Rhodes Island. Underneath was a list of a few missions and videos he was in charge of. No origins listed. No facial picture. Uninfected. ‘Do not disturb.’ It went through some changes once he came back as an amnesiac, but of course, his history was never filled up save for external Operator opinions and reports.

“Maybe because I’ve been around the USSG so much…?” he asked himself.

“Excuse me, did you say something?”

“Nothing, Eyjafjalla.” Underqualified he might feel about himself, he still had work to do. Here was someone he should help, and he did have the knowledge for it. “But alright, then. I’ll be giving you a few details about Blaze, or rather, my opinions, so listen carefully. Speak up if you have something to add; this is a discussion, so we should be bringing ideas together.”

Eyjafjalla stared at the Doctor for a moment before she seemed to register his words. She took a deep breath and replied, “Yes, Doctor!”

She seemed like she was taking this too seriously, but that should be fine for now. The Doctor took a deep breath, rested his hands over his thighs, and steepled his fingers. He recalled Blaze’s Operator profile, mentally pulling up instructors’ notes and recent reports of the Guard’s missions. He hadn’t commanded her in a battle, but he had a feeling that day will come soon. This talk should make for a good review.

“Blaze, a shocktrooper-type of Guard, promoted to Elite 1-ranking months earlier, close to Elite 2 now. She takes the role of a trailblazer—heh—clearing up the way for everyone, and she works well enough in a team. But as it is with most explosive Arts she racks up a lot of property damage. I heard that the average Feline can land from heights better than most Ancients do thanks to this ‘shock-absorbent bone structure’. Blaze is above average, though; she can land from, say, a fifteen-story building. For stunts like that, she slows herself down a little with propulsion underneath but it wouldn’t have been enough for ordinary people. She trusts to her body more, and in the right conditions, transfer the force of her drops into crash landings.”

“I see! Her physical training makes up— no, rather, her Arts is more of an accessory to her combat style. Is it because she simply needs more practice on fine control? Hold on, I have a notebook!”

The Caprinae brought out a worn book from the bag by her side. She flipped through the pages and held the book up to the Doctor.

The Doctor eyed the first page. Rather than counting the number of lines, he thought it would be easier to count the blank spaces in between. A lot of diagrams and text here and there were squeezed in.

“Um, is this all you wrote?” the Doctor asked tentatively.

Eyjafjalla let the papers fly. The Doctor counted three, six, ten more pages; a total of twenty pages of black lines. He tried not to edge away from the paperwo— ‘notes’.

Too late. The Doctor realized how qualified this Caster was, and forgot how long any discussion could take.

The girl had a proud smile on her face as she explained, “I wrote notes based on Miss Blaze’s explanation of her Originium Arts, what other Casters and Arts Guards have remarked, then my opinions on the last page. Still, I would have liked for more information, just to be conclusive! I remember the shape of Miss Blaze’s sphere of heat and how she circulated Arts energy so let me sketch it— ah, wait! I was taking a video recording and I have the camera here. I hope it wasn’t broken…”

When Saria was heading back to the office after taking her dinner, carrying a metal lunchbox and avoiding Ifrit prowling the hallways, she saw a Caprinae girl walk out of the office with a small stack of books in her hands. Saria recognized her as the Caster she blocked Blaze’s explosion from—and when the Vouivre inquired later to be sure—Eyjafjalla, renowned Catastrophe Messenger and researcher. The girl bowed to someone through the open door several times and walked off, looking both satisfied and worried at the same time.

Saria entered the office then. Everything appeared the same as she left it save for the masked Doctor slumped over the desk.

A certain Liberi came to mind... two of them, rather. Saria examined the lifeless form for a moment and went over to make sure. “Doctor?” she asked. “Are you awake?”

“Oh. Hello, Saria,” his muffled voice came through his pillow. Saria debated on telling him to get rid of it. “How was your day?”

“Nothing to note of. You missed dinner.”

The Doctor shifted in his seat for a moment, rising, struggling against some unseen force before giving up. “Ah. I’ll go get something later.”

Saria sighed. In the past few days acting as his secretary, having signed up as one soon after she joined Rhodes Island, she learnt he was a typical kind of hard worker who worked late into nights and skipped meals on accident. Not that Saria was one to talk, but it was concerning behavior from someone with a laidback attitude.

She set down the metal lunchbox. “Eastern-style riceballs from Operator Matoimaru. She said you liked them.”

“How huge are they this time?”

“I would estimate each to be a size approaching an average football.”

“She still doesn’t hold back…” The Doctor finally raised his head and took off his mask, eye blinking at the light. “Well, she has my undying gratitude.”

“If the paperwork this time was difficult, I could have stayed behind longer to help you,” Saria remarked. “I understand that Operator recruitment is partially overseen by you. There had been numerous recruits at the examination, and you remained here scanning recruitment profiles when I left.”

The Doctor waved a dismissive hand as he walked over to the office’s faucet, part of a small kitchen that took up a corner and had nothing else other than a marble counter, an electric kettle, and a small refrigerator. He took his gloves off and washed his hands.

“It’s nothing so difficult to tire me out. All I have to do about the recruitment information sent to me is to give my own opinions and make suggestions based on what each recruit can do. Making requests for the new Operators to participate in missions comes after they get a full evaluation, and if they are available.” The Doctor picked up a riceball and bit into it. “Salmon! Except it’s burnt a little. Anyway, even though I say it’s easy, I only got around half the list today. We’ll be finishing that tomorrow after addressing the usual slew of office work. I’d like your opinion as a former director of security.”

“That is fine. Although I wonder what made you so tired if it was not your work today. Was it Miss Eyjafjalla I saw earlier?”

“You know her? She is a famous Caster, right?”

“Amongst a few other accolades.”

The Doctor picked up a book with his free hand. “This is a notebook she left me. We were discussing Blaze’s Heat Arts.”

“A discussion…” She flipped through the pages.

It was when she finished skimming one essay she had a revelation.

“I think it’s been five… six hours since we met and started talking. I wasn’t sure how much help I was—”

He was cut off when Saria abruptly walked over to him, feeling her stare drill into him up close.

“Did you write this, Doctor?” Saria questioned him, showing the page. “‘Regulation of temperature according to all possible factors’, ‘gathering of heat through precision Ice Arts’—unusual, yet understandable despite the roughness of it.”

“I-I did,” he managed an answer.

“…Are you not a Caster?”

“No, I can’t cast Arts. I got a Flawed rating for Originium Arts Assimilation.”

‘Flawed’? It was not a rare occurrence for most Ancients, Saria supposed. Originium Art tools did not guarantee the use of Arts for everyone. “Not a professor then? You are acting as a tutor for several students including Ifrit, if I recall correctly.”

“It’s not like the homework I give out is university-grade, or at least I don’t think it is like I did writing with Eyja. I read a lot and learnt a lot from other people, but it’s not like I’m actually qualified to be a professor, right?”

The Doctor waved a hand over the notebook. Saria saw his innocent look and decided to take his words at face value.

Perhaps she will have to expand their range of topics to discuss in the future.

The next day, Eyjafjalla came by to talk about the books she was given.

“Doctor, I must ask again, how did you come to own such books!?” the young Caster was exclaiming over the tactician’s desk, making him edge back in his chair from the sheer inquisitiveness in her tone.

“Calm down, Eyja!” the Doctor said carefully. “What’s the problem here?”

The Caster held up a book with a thread-bound back. Titled on the front was Esoteric World: Kagerou, with Far Eastern characters brushed underneath in black ink. “Educational books from Higashi are notoriously difficult to get, and fully translated ones were said to be seen once in a blue moon!” Then she held up a thick book. “A Treatise on Flare Spells is a book controversial in Victoria’s Arts societies for being limited to leather-bound versions when it first came out decades ago, but it contains many records of high-level Fire Arts that they are highly sought after by many a collector, Fire Artists or not!” She held up a thin paperback. “System Flux was supposed to be a beginner’s textbook on Originium circuitry, and yet it was in-depth in describing energy control! With this, along with your suggestions, I could form a better theory for Miss Blaze to follow!”

Eyjafjalla slammed her hands on the desk, a focused glint in her eyes. This was so out of character compared to the soft-spoken politeness of yesterday. “Doctor, are you a genius!?”

The Doctor hesitantly answered, “…I am the sole tactical advisor for Rhodes Island.”

“Excuse me?”

Was it too quiet? The Doctor’s voice was a little over a whisper...

“I said, I am the tactical advisor for Rhodes Island. I learn and think on what people could improve on.”

“That’s not what I mean! Have you worked as a professor in regards to Arts? Or maybe, versed in multiple subjects? What books have you read? What did you study?”

“Eyjafjalla, I don’t have any memory of whatever I did, much less any concrete knowledge. All I’m relying on is pure deduction and what I know now.”

Eyjafjalla blinked, then she looked down at the desk she had her hands on. She jumped back and bowed in shame. “S-Sorry for getting so close! But you have the feel of like… like one of my teachers, or my seniors. It feels hard to believe that you are an amnesiac.”

The Doctor knew the feeling. All those exploits about being a commander came from a past he never knew, and somehow the current Doctor could match those expectations. SilverAsh still subtly prodded the Doctor about that every now and then in their chess matches.

“Eyjafjalla, you say that you think you can help Blaze with her Arts better now?” asked the Doctor.

“I would say ‘clearer’.” She dutifully gathered the books back up and stacked them on the desk. “I only need another day with the books, then I should be able to resume with a more concise explanation. I’ll return the books then… if that’s alright with you, Doctor?”

“No, I don’t mind them being borrowed for a little longer.”

Eyjafjalla smiled. “Then, I think that’s all! Thank you so much for this, Doctor. I’ll be sure to tell Miss Blaze to thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

But the Caster did not walk away. She looked at the Doctor, then at the floor, squirming when he looked at her strangely.

“Eyja?” the Doctor asked in concern.

The Caprinae started. “A-Ah! Yes, sorry. I… didn’t know if I should bring this up…”

“Eyja, it’s fine if you want to ask me for something,” the Doctor replied sincerely.

“Then… you see…” Eyjafjalla paused before taking on a calmer tone. “Is it alright if I could visit you about my studies? I would appreciate your expertise. Every now and then, since I know you have other people to meet, and your work.”

“Professor? Sorry if I’m bothering you…”

He already had an answer.

“Okay. I’ll be sure to free up my schedule for the next few days.”

Eyjafjalla looked taken aback. “I-Is that fine with you? Aren’t you busy?”

“Though I may have to ask you to wait until I’m done with something, I’m actually not as burdened with work as you think, unless a major event happens, or someone calls for me, or I have to personally prepare for missions. These days, they have been quiet for me. I can’t guarantee being available all the time, but Eyja, feel free to look for me if you need help.”

Eyjafjalla beamed. “Then… thank you, Doctor!”

It was the start of another relationship worthy of Rhodes Island’s gossip.

The next morning, Blaze blew up a corner of an Originium Arts training room, away from supply closets. That was to be expected, especially after the nagging Dobermann gave her.

What was not expected was a Caster very well-known in the Arts Department being seen headed for the Doctor’s office, then coming back looking happy, then at the office again by evening, then out looking like a child who got their Christmas early as an Operator who tailed her described.

The Arts Department became confused. What? Why? Casters remarked on this later, attracting the attention of gossips and Operators in charge of information gathering. They were a (somewhat) professional lot, so they tried not to make assumptions.

Emphasis on ‘tried’.

At any rate, the rumors grew.

The day after, Eyjafjalla bowed once more and left the room. The Doctor waved a hand in goodbye.

Saria, doing a final inspection of some weapon-use permission forms, was giving him a searching look.

“…Is something wrong, Saria?” asked the Doctor when he noticed her looking.

“Are you certain that you cannot cast Arts? Or still require time to share your thoughts on calcification?”

The Doctor groaned. She had been talking more about Arts lately.

“Can’t we… talk about the weather…?”

“I am certain that this may assist you in teaching Ifrit.”

“But—”

“I insist. After all, the Arts Department has been wondering about your, ah, ‘lessons’ with Eyjafjalla. Preparing interesting topics would not be amiss in maintaining respect amongst them.”

“Crud.”

Another day later…

The Doctor was carrying a stack of files.

“Good morning, Senpai!”

He tripped. Saria dashed around her desk, catching him with one arm circling his waist and snatching flying papers with her free hand. A few files escaped her grasp and fell to the floor. Eyjafjalla cried out an apology and moved to scoop up the mess.

Once the files were set down before any more accidents could happen, and the Doctor thanked Saria, Eyjafjalla explained the name she gave to the tactician.

“It’s a Higashi word that means ‘senior’, you see. I thought of calling you ‘Professor’, but then I remembered that you objected and said you were a person still learning just like anyone else. That said, you displayed such seniority that I can’t imagine calling you less, so I think the title is appropriate!”

Saria raised an eyebrow but did not look up from her desk, bless her politeness.

The Doctor felt himself blushing with embarrassment. Then he saw the office’s door open.

“Doctor, here is the latest stack of recruitment files.”

“Hey Leader, here’s the workshop’s latest update on bows and stuff~”

Eyjafjalla, not taking notice, did a short, respectful bow. “Please take care of me, Senpai!”

There was silence all of a sudden.

Amiya was staring at him with a betrayed look. Exusiai was mouthing ‘ooh’.

“Uh…” The Doctor had a bad feeling about this. “Hey, girls. How long have you been there?”

Later, Exusiai decided to take the ‘cute Caster’ for a chat with the rest of Penguin Logistics over lunch in the cafeteria, leaving Amiya to privately interro— ask the Doctor about Eyjafjalla in the lounge.

“I am aware that the title ‘Senpai’ means she is referring to you as a senior. It was about the discussions between you and Miss Eyjafjalla over the past few days?”

“Yes," he answered with the air of someone being scolded, "that was what she wanted to call me.”

“She was only asking about Originium Arts, right?”

Despite this being just a question, Amiya’s tone suggested that there was a bad answer to it she wouldn’t want to hear.

“Yes… that was all,” the Doctor answered carefully. “I was only sharing my views on Arts.”

“And that is also why Blaze has been excited about her Arts over the past few days?”

“Eyja told me Blaze was doing well, so, yes.”

“‘Eyja’…?”

“Yeah, Eyja as in Eyjafjalla,” the Doctor clarified.

Amiya’s rabbit ears lowered themselves in a show of moodiness. “That’s… not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“N-Nothing in particular! I was thinking that you two got so close in a few days.”

“Did we? Well, we read a lot of books, Eyja showed off her Arts and book collection, I showed mine… She was such a lively girl that it turned out to be a lot of fun talking with her like that.”

“She called you with a pet nickname,” whispered Amiya.

“Huh?”

“I was just talking to myself! A-Anyway, does this mean you are preparing to teach Originium Arts? Because that would be—”

“No I’m not.”

“Excuse me?”

The Doctor tilted his head. “I would be too busy to be, ahem, there this weekend, wouldn’t I?”

Amiya’s ears straightened themselves. “This weekend…” Then she smiled, which was a good sign for the Doctor. “That’s right. It wouldn’t be good if you had to teach on top of being a tactical advisor anyway, so that’s a relief!”

“What were you two talking about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Eyjafjalla walked up to them from behind the Doctor. The tactician waved when he saw her.

“Hello, Eyja. Has Penguin Logistics been nice to you?”

“They were very nice, yes! Then they got into a fight over, um, chocolate sticks?”

“That’s the usual Penguin girls for you…”

It was a friendly conversation. However, they were oblivious to the… odd look Amiya sent their way before she coughed for attention and smiled politely.

“We were talking about a musical concert held this Sunday, Miss Eyjafjalla,” answered Amiya. “The performers’ identities are kept a secret as a surprise, but there is sure to be a long line-up to look forward to.”

“A musical? Oh…” Eyjafjalla looked downcast.

“What is it, Eyja?” the Doctor asked.

“I’m sure that the music will be loud enough for me to hear. It's just... even with my hearing aid, I’m sure to miss something.”

“Wait… you need a hearing aid?”

Eyjafjalla blankly looked at the Doctor before realizing. “Doctor, you didn’t know about my deafness?”

“I didn’t think to look at your profile closely…” he sheepishly admitted.

“That’s fine. It’s my Oripathy, you see." Eyjafjalla brushed aside a lock of her hair, revealing a small earpiece attached to her humanoid ear. "I use a hearing aid, but I still have problems with my hearing. That’s why I miss a lot of things I could have sensed from noise.”

“From what I hear from Dr. Kal’tsit, your Oripathy is causing you to be blind, right?” Amiya interjected.

Eyjafjalla nodded. “Oripathy is relentless, isn’t it? I’d still like to go, though!” She put up a smile. “And there’s a lot of others who could tell me about the performance. You don't have to worry about me!”

The Doctor looked at the little volcanologist. She was young, he realized. Not in the sense of numbers, but by the things she had yet to experience in spite of her achievements, much like Amiya. However, being an Infected still meant you could succumb to Oripathy even with current cutting-edge treatments.

‘A clouded future,’ one line in her profile said. Such a life it was for any Infected.

So a gloved hand came down to ruffle Eyjafjalla’s hair. The Caprinae jumped at the contact.

“S-Senpai?”

“It’ll be alright, Eyja,” the Doctor told her. “What I hope to hear from you once the concert is over is how much you enjoyed it, rather than what others saw or heard. Deafness or not, blindness or not, I want to hear from you and you alone. Can you do that?”

Eyjafjalla let the words sink in. Her lips trembled before breaking out into a smile, wider than any the Doctor had seen before. “Yes I can, Senpai!” she gratefully answered.

Amiya sighed, but she had a smile of her own too. This was the Doctor being himself after all. “The concert will take place at seven o’clock in the evening, Miss Eyjafjalla. You can check the online newsboard for more details. I’m sure the musicians will appreciate more watchers.”

“Thank you, Miss Amiya. And call me ‘Eyja’! Do you mind if I called you ‘Amiya’? I wanted to ask about your black Arts that I've never seen before!”

“Of course you can, Eyja. Rhodes Island will do their best for the Infected. I'm sure we can find a way to stop your Oripathy.”

"Don't you think it'd be simpler to say, 'have a little faith'?"

Amiya giggled. "Of course!"

This somehow felt fitting: two Infected girls facing the world with nothing but their wits and optimism, however they showed it. The Doctor was tempted to wipe a tear off his eye, except there wasn’t one, and he still had his mask on.

He saw someone, no, a few people walking towards them, though.

“Eyja? Why is Skyfire coming this way?” he asked the volcanologist.

“The Feline with the red jacket? I’m not sure. I do remember seeing her near me when I was talking with those girls.”

“Wait, that’s the entire King’s Wand. I recognize a few people from the Arts Department, too.”

“Oh, I see Earthspirit!”

“There’s a crowd of Casters… heading this way…”

Amiya saw someone holding up a video recorder, and another with a notepad. She bit her lip when she realized they all had one thing in common, including Eyjafjalla.

A thirst for knowledge.

Chapter Text

“Sightings of Reunion around Lungmen. Hostile caravans have been digging in. Troop compositions range from rioters, cocktail throwers, Casters, Avengers, their elite variants, and the rumored Yeti Squadron… Reports about Chernobog are… sporadic. Scouts that get in too close are threatened by Reunion’s patrol groups, drones get shot down, having spies is too risky…”

The Doctor sighed, alone in his office reading the latest reports from a Rhodes Island group stationed in Great Lungmen. So much for a quiet period. Wei Yenwu, the… leader of Lungmen, requested for Rhodes Island to come help prepare their defenses. The Ark was on a course back to Lungmen for this reason.

The Reunion Movement never stopped, which was strange given how close Chernobog was to Lungmen. For a group bent on making the world pay for their transgressions against the Infected, Lungmen should have been the perfect next target. The Doctor had been to the slums. Reunion had to have known too.

Vendetta aside, did they have the logistics to keep themselves afloat with food and water and other essentials? If not, they would have to pillage; again, with Reunion’s numbers, equipment, and agents mixed in with refugees from Chernobog, Lungmen was perfect for that. Where did they get the resources to stay functional for the months— wait, the Doctor remembered. Parts of Chernobog were still functional, and early drone pictures show a majority of agricultural or nutrition-based sectors in use. Reunion’s patrols roamed in a 50 km-radius around the city, but there have been vehicles that moved further, targeting inter-Nomadic City supply lines…

‘Prepared’ was the simple word he had for the supposedly unruly mob. At least, good enough for Reunion to maintain control over Chernobog while still conducting supply runs and terror attacks all over Ursus’s and Lungmen’s regions for over three months. The question was why Chernobog remained effectively stuck in place that long.

“…Really. Not bad, given their situation.”

He couldn’t help but murmur the praise aloud. Well, not really praise. Had this been a school exam, he would have graded it a 70 out of 100. It would be more like telling a student to do better.

So what did grading a hostile organization have to do with his duties as a tactical advisor? Probably nothing, but the Doctor was seeing a pattern lately. Sometimes he would perform unconscious actions, or see flashes of a scene, or gain thoughts that felt more like someone else’s just by being around something or thinking deeply.

“—Just because you have the ‘qualities’ to survive almost any temperature doesn’t excuse your constant choice of clothing. Or eating.”

“—neural synapses— What? You already… Of course, right when I was supposed to connect it. We’ll have to open it back up. Why is it that you’re always so smart and so stupid at the same time?”

“You’re a dolt.”

Past Doctor sounded bothersome. Condolences to Kal’tsit for putting up with him.

The office door opened. Hydraulic machinery hissed for a moment. The Doctor saw a lock of black hair and emerald eyes looking at him.

“Ah, Doctor—”

Then the door slid back closed, cutting off a shout.

The Doctor coughed back a laugh and gave it a moment. The woman already had enough practice. Sure enough, the door opened up, and it stayed like that.

“Oh, why do these doors get me every time… Ah, ahem, Doctor? I will be the one taking the bodyguard shift today. Have you rested? If not, I’ll sneak up on you again.”

The woman that strode into the office was a Kuranta, an Ancient with the ears and tail of horses and the energy and speed to outpace most Ancients. She had black hair tied into a long ponytail, save for a white curving cowlick and a diamond-shaped mark on the front of her hair. Two horse ears on her temple twitched at a gentle rhythm. She wore a shirt that covered her chest and bared her waist, along with a cloak, ripped jeans, and boots, accentually colored in varying shades of brown like a tree’s trunk.

The Sniper greeted the Doctor with a playful smile. “I see you’re well. How was yesterday? I heard you got incredibly popular with the Casters.”

“Too popular.” The Doctor sighed. “Skyfire might look for me today.”

“That’s a beautiful woman’s attention you have on you!” she teased. “Why aren’t you acting excited?”

The Doctor sagged in his chair. “If being nagged at by ‘superior’ theories and asking for opinion after opinion is good attention. I also have Reunion to worry about. Here I was hoping for a break…”

Meteor’s hand reached over to pet the top of his hood. “There, there,” she cooed.

“…I am an adult. I have no memories of that, but I am sure I am of age.”

“Are you now?”

“I am. So keep that in mind while you pat me.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t sound serious.”

Meteor giggled. “Do you happen to be free now?”

“…Once I finish reading this report. What do you want to do this time? Because having a campfire on the deck is still an issue to work out.”

“No… but we should have one with everyone another time. What do you say to a forest outing?”

On the course back to Great Lungmen, the Ark had drifted by a Nomadic Town (basically a smaller Nomadic City) known for its proximity to a veritable expanse of grasslands encompassing towering redwood trees. It was moored nearby for the entire day to allow Operators for a chance in the outdoors, whether to forage or to relax. Of course, Meteor and the Doctor were outside for the latter.

The Sniper was in her element. She danced around trees and waltzed over roots; the tactician, like the paper-pushing beansprout Gavial tended to describe him as, felt as if all the branches that tugged at his jacket were all out to get him. The grass was dense enough to obscure the ground and kept on making him stumble over whatever he could not spot.

To emphasize the point, he tripped over a rock.

“Careful now, Doctor,” Meteor murmured, suddenly at his side as she caught him.

“Thanks,” the tactician replied. “I like being outside of the ship, but I guess I’m not good with plants after all.”

Meteor looked at him curiously. “Come to think of it, this is your first time amongst trees, isn’t it?”

“Yes… I think. At least, I haven’t been in any forests since Chernobog.”

“Not even on missions?”

“Well, not inside of them. Any mission that involved some kind of forest didn’t take long, not that there are many around the Ursus Region, Great Lungmen, or even their borders to start with. Catastrophes would get in the way too. All I know about forests come from books and pictures.”

“You’ve missed out on so much, then!” The archer’s grin was full of excitement, like a kid who wanted to show off to their friends. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll make your first experience memorable. Now hold onto my hand. I heard of an excellent field of flowers this way.”

So hand-in-hand, they hiked up a small hill. They stepped over roots, watched a deer bound by, Meteor caught the Doctor, hiked up another hill, crossed over a fallen tree over a little gorge, stepped through trees, hiked…

“Uh, Meteor… how… how much longer do we hike?” The Doctor was feeling his lungs burn.

“Sorry, Doctor,” Meteor apologized, “but I promise, the sight will take your breath away.”

“Is this secretly some kind of punishment for last week?”

“I don’t recall. What did you do to me?”

“I asked about your ag— gyah!”

His hand was being crushed in Meteor’s grip.

“I know that I’m actually at quite an age, but I am quite spry, thank you very much.” The archer smiled, but the corners of her lips were edged into something resembling a frown. “Catapult hasn’t exactly been nice to me about that, recently, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t need me to remind you, Doctor?”

The Doctor nodded frantically.

“Good! Now, here we are. Take care not to trip, or you’d have quite a roll downhill~”

Her smile was a bit calmer now. The Doctor made no more comments until he looked over the hill’s crest.

A clearing stretched before them. The sun shone brightly overhead, unobstructed by dense foliage above. A ring of trees surrounded a bed of white flowers. Little bugs flitted about from the short grass.

Dead in the center where no white flowers grew was a single tree, towering over the two visitors with a trunk far thicker than any of the Ark’s concrete walls.

Meteor whistled. “Now that is quite an old tree. And a convenient shade. Lovely carnations too!” She turned to the Doctor, a grin on her face. “Doctor, now is this pretty sight going to get me that campfire…?”

She faltered when the Doctor unclasped his mask. The tactician took in a deep breath of fresh, warm air.

“The wind blows from so high on the Ark’s deck, but the breeze here is calming,” he remarked. “Thank you for bringing me outside, Meteor.”

“Oh… it’s no problem,” the Sniper managed to say. “Getting some fresh air is good for your health, as you know. People have been worried about you ever since that little marathon in your office. I hope you’ve learned not to make girls cry since then.”

The Doctor winced. “I reflected, alright?”

Meteor raised a disapproving eyebrow. The Doctor squirmed a little, looking away. She held the look at the Doctor’s ‘I’m-really-sorry-okay?’ face before she broke into a chuckle.

“At least I’m now certain that you aren’t a robot,” she said. “Your sad expressions just don’t fit a cool tactician’s image. What a nightmare that would be, if I had to turn to engineering just to fix you up next time.” Said tactician frowned at her. The archer merely chuckled at this look too. “Let’s enjoy ourselves here while we can, then, as an apology to everyone you worried. What do you want to start with?”

The tactician huffed before he pointed at the flowers. “Show me how to make flower crowns.”

“Why are we tailing the Doctor again?”

“Um, watching over him because Dr. Kal’tsit requested us to?”

“But—Melantha! We always play with him! They look like they’re having fun. I wanna make a flower crown.”

“Calm down. Although it’s true that in the few times a few of us escorted the Doctor, we never snuck around like this. Nor did we have the whole team together.”

“Steward’s on to something! Is our mission supposed to be leading into something big? Like, like, an assassin following him?”

“No, I don’t think Dr. Kal’tsit would send out civilian teams unprepared and uninformed like this. It could simply be a precaution. Bandits have been roaming this region, I hear. We are certainly not equipped to fend off whole bands.”

“Don’t you worry your fluff, Ansel! We can beat ‘em back! We aren’t complete rookies anymore, and we got an elite Sniper too!”

Bzzt.

“A4, tone down your chatter.”

“Oh, hey, Firewatch!”

“I repeat, quiet down.”

“Listen to Miss Firewatch, Cardigan.”

“Aw, Adnachiel, I really wanna get the Doctor to make some funny faces! And this place is so beautiful…”

“I understand how you feel, Cardigan. I’m very interested in the Doctor showing his face now. Still, I think it’d be kinder to leave those two to themselves, where they don’t have to worry about others— or rather, where they only need to worry about each other instead of a crowd. You know they aren’t the type to leave others be. How would they relax then?”

“Wow, spoken like a true helpful good guy!”

“Besides, I can see everything from up here.”

“No fair! Don’t you have a video to share?”

“…I have my smartphone. Is that alright, anyone?”

“You do not have their consent for a secret recording.”

“Why are you treating this like a baby walking for the first time…”

“Let’s not question that, Mister Ansel.”

“Aw… By the way, how long do we have to watch?”

“Until they leave the forest, if possible.”

“…The Doctor’s lying down under the tree… Is he gonna sleep? He looks so comfy…”

“…”

…

Thump.

“…Zzz…”

“That was… fast. Thankfully, we aren’t on a combat mission. But Cardigan will get a cold at this rate. Steward, do you have a blanket?”

“Here, Mister Ansel.”

Shuffle, shuffle—

Click.

“A-Adnachiel? Did you take a picture?”

“I fell to the temptation of saving the Doctor’s sleeping face and do not regret my actions. I will accept any punishment as you deem fit, Captain.”

“L-Let’s not go that far. But we have to ask the Doctor and Miss Meteor after this…”

“Dr. Kal’tsit is going to have a headache again…”

Meteor suppressed a laugh when she heard the brief but signature chatter of Reserve Op Team A4. Had they been on a real stealth mission they likely would have failed before it even started. Their tones fit a whole voice spectrum ranging from quiet to loud: Melantha the timid, Ansel the calm, Steward the attentive, Adnachiel the bright, and Cardigan the peppy. The archer thought she would spot the Sankta’s bright halo, but it was small for all it was bright. The treetops were plenty dense to hide in too.

That was fine. They kept quiet once the Doctor started napping. Meteor smiled and caressed the Doctor’s cold cheek. She resisted the urge to pinch it.

“Hm hm~” Meteor hummed to herself. “You’re too defenseless, Doctor.”

Then—movement. The archer steadied her breath when something flitted between the trees ahead of her.

Meteor knew how to hunt, but she was more confident in her eyes and her bow than she did hiding. She knew the silhouette she saw was not a trick of the light, much less matched Team A4’s profiles. The archer remembered that the Doctor had two girls who signed up to be his bodyguards.

Plume? No, the Lateran Liberi would have been out in the open, and the Vanguard did not practice stealth. Also, Meteor saw her heading out on a foraging run in the morning and should not be back in a few hours.

Was it Gravel? She was practically glued to the Doctor most of the time. Meteor saw the shadow right when she caressed the Doctor; Gravel did not make her affections for the tactician a secret. She would make the most sense.

Or Projekt Red? Did Kal’tsit send the Lupo? Meteor talked to the Lupo assassin once. The Kuranta felt much older than the girl before her was, but the archer saw Red in action, and the Lupo was always by Kal’tsit’s side. But why would she reveal herself so easily?

Meteor itched to stand up and investigate the disturbance. It was a possible danger, and she would not like someone interrupting their peaceful outing.

“Mm…” The Doctor made a noise. Meteor watched him roll side from side for a moment, then glumly murmur, “Beansprouts again today…”

Meteor had to swallow a laugh, then coughed forcefully when she heard someone’s muffled outrage. Ansel, perhaps? He was one of the Medics who tried to make the Doctor stick to a schedule, only to fail whenever the paperwork flooded in, or the Doctor simply forgot, or he went on some escapade.

Meteor looked at the trees again. With her Kuranta agility, she would be back quick after a check. Yet, even seconds were all it took to assault a defenseless target. What for, Meteor could only guess, but she did not plan on leaving the Doctor alone after getting a private moment together in such a long while.

So she stayed, despite the audience.

“…You completely forgot about our promise, didn’t you, Doctor? It was only a few weeks ago, you know,” Meteor murmured and pinched his cheek. He mumbled something and did not wake up. “When I mentioned going out to a forest, well, I meant visiting the ones in Kazimierz one day, but a good forest like this makes for a nice rehearsal. Still, we made a promise that you forgot. I was expecting you to remember and say something like, ‘Now we can visit a forest! Show me what you got, Meteor!’”

“Still, it’s fine. We did go to a forest, and we enjoyed ourselves.” The archer reached a hand backwards and felt the rough bark of the tree shading them. “I already knew about this place in my travels, actually, but in one of my conversations with Lena, she happened to mention this hill. She told me that she listened to your talks about seeing flashes, of scenes you don’t know, and she looked it up according to your descriptions. I wonder how you remembered. I suppose that means you’ve been remembering even before your unmasking, and that you might have come here before, but more than that, I felt… jealous, that you’ve been divulging so much to someone.”

Meteor watched the tactician’s chest rise and fall. She laid a hand on his chest, feeling the soft beat of his heart. “Still asleep? For all the weight you have placed on your shoulders, you can still make time for peaceful moments like this. Just seeing you makes my worries feel small. Don’t you think so too, Gravel?”

A giggle from behind made Meteor withdraw her hand.

“I agree very, very much, Miss Warden~”

A pair of black heeled boots stalked into view. As Meteor looked up, she saw brown stockings, a black, partially unzipped jacket, a skin-tight white suit, and a white chestplate with Kazimierz’s pitch black insignia: a knight chess piece with three lines striking through it. A barcode stood out on an exposed right shoulder. Long pink hair fluttered in the breeze, and a pair of mouse ears twitched. The wide smile attached to the owner’s face was twitching too.

“Ah, Gravel, I was looking for you back at the Ark,” Meteor replied cordially.

“Mm, I was doing an early morning patrol of the forest.” Gravel did a whimsy spin and sat down on the other side of the Doctor with her legs tucked into her arms. “When I came back, imagine my disappointment when I heard the Doctor was already out on a stroll!”

“So you went back out as soon as you returned to base? Your speed really is amazing.”

“The faster I move, the more time I get to spend with Doctor.”

Gravel was giggling and grinning throughout the conversation. Even so, Meteor could not help but feel apprehensive. A Knight this excitable Zalak may be, Gravel reacted poorly whenever it came to the Doctor—not with violence, especially when the Doctor would be upset if fights happened, but any girl (or boy) who got too close to her Doctor may experience a chill down their back.

Meteor moved to stand up. “If you want, Gravel, I’ll give you some time alone—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Gravel raised a finger. “Now Meteor, I’m satisfied being by Doctor’s side. It’s not like I can’t share.”

The archer stared at the assassin. “I… you mean, you’re fine with me being around?”

“Why not? You were the one who brought the Doctor outside to rest, didn’t you? I care for his happiness, and you brought him that for today.” Gravel smiled, and this time, Meteor sensed sincerity in it. “I’m grateful that you are here for him.”

The archer… sat down. Maybe she had the wrong idea about the assassin who cared so much for the Doctor.

“After all,” Gravel continued, “if one thing is clear to me after seeing our Doctor interact with people, it’s that those who love him are not bad people.” The assassin put a finger on her lips. “Maybe ‘bad’ is a little too broad for a word, but that’s the simplest way of putting it… oh?”

Meteor’s face was as red as a tomato. She did not look at Gravel, much less the bushes where there were still onlookers. “I don’t— that is not what— how I feel, exactly, for Doctor,” she stammered. “He’s a very good man. I, well… I’m thankful for having a friend like him.”

“…So I was right. When did it happen? From the start? A little later? He is quite a wonderful man when you get to know him. So much more than looking from afar would feel...”

The Doctor mumbled something again in his sleep, blissfully unaware of the talking. Meteor dared not say anything more as she watched Gravel stand up.

“I’m sure all of you will protect Doctor wonderfully.” Gravel had a thin smile on her lips. “I’ll be at the Ark if you need me. Of course, if you decide to get a little too close to him…”

The assassin giggled darkly while she stroked the handles of her daggers hanging behind her back. The trees dared not say anything as she zipped out of sight.

Meteor finally let out a sigh. She looked up ahead into sky and tried to stop her heart from beating so—

“U-Um, Miss Meteor…”

Melantha came walking out of the bushes, warily looking at where Gravel disappeared. Following her were Steward and Ansel, propping up a dazed Cardigan by her shoulders, while Adnachiel waved a hand as he climbed down a tree.

“I’m no expert at stealth and such,” Meteor told them with her usual smile, “but I think you could have done better.”

Still Melantha, fidgeted and bowed. “We… I want to apologize for spying on… you. A-As team—”

“I wish to extend my apology as well—” started Steward.

“We should have at least stayed back—” Ansel concurred.

“Hush now, all of you.” Meteor put a hand on Melantha’s head, making her cat ears twitch in surprise and the boys stop. “I know you are all good people. I don’t mind. For now, can we keep quiet for the Doctor’s sake?”

The tactician still slept soundly. Melantha nodded slowly, as though that would be enough to wake the man up after all the ruckus.

“Miss Firewatch told us that she will be keeping watch,” Adnachiel whispered once he was close to his team. “We’re more or less free to do what we want around here.”

“If… that is alright with you, Miss Meteor?” asked Melantha.

“Feel free,” replied Meteor. “I’m sure the Doctor would be glad to have company. That aside, Adnachiel?”

The angel stood at attention, though he had a little, expectant smile on his face. His smartphone was even in his hand for show. “Yes, Miss Meteor?”

She hoped she did not sound strange when she asked, “If you happen to have taken a picture or two of us, do you… mind sending them to me?”

“I’ll be sure to help you print them out later, if you don’t mind me meddling.”

“Thank you.”

An hour later, after a quick explanation of why Team A4 and Firewatch were around to the Doctor (excluding the part between Meteor and Gravel), the entire group was back at the Ark. Firewatch excused herself with a nod. Steward and Ansel held bouquets of white carnations for Perfumer and a few patients who would appreciate a little more color in their rooms. Melantha offered to escort the Doctor back to his office, with Cardigan doing the same, more as an apology for slamming into the Doctor in a one-sided game of tag. Adnachiel smiled his ever mysterious smile at Meteor and left for a workshop.

When the Doctor thanked Meteor, the archer jumped and laughed and smiled and acted flustered like she did on the way back to the Ark.

The gossips whispered that day.

Chapter Text

“—all I can offer is myself and my… my tainted sword.”

“So you walked away in the end.”

“You were right. And saving her will not undo what I have done, least of all to you. I do not have the right to ask forgiveness of you, but please, Liz will die.”

So he and she went, for innocent deaths dragged into a war, and for a girl in a castle who was never known by those she had saved. The only ones who knew were two, a dishonored swordswoman and a—

“…Hm~”

A tune.

“Hm, hm hm~”

A quiet tune. A light wind picks up…

“~~~!”

…winding, getting faster, stronger, expectant. A breeze was starting to blow.

Then—

“—H-Hah…”

Then the flow broke.

The Doctor’s eyes blinked open. It was bright, more than it should have been for a ceiling light. A sweet scent was in the air.

He was… lying down on his pillow, somewhere other than his office…

“Oh, you’re awake, Doctor.”

The Doctor had been looking up at a glass pane until a pair of fox ears appeared. Brown eyes looked back at him playfully.

“Hello, Lena,” the Doctor greeted, still lying down on a bench.

“Hello!” Lena the Vulpo—codenamed ‘Perfumer’—greeted brightly. Instead of her usual white sleeveless dress and blue coat, she was dressed in a tighter, grey uniform for gardening work. “How was your nap this time?”

“Refreshing. The Garden’s scents are as amazing as ever.”

“I thank you on behalf of the flowers. You brought back an interesting mix of scents yourself.”

“I’ll assume that’s a compliment. Were you the one humming?”

“Oh, not me. That would be Nightingale.”

“You mean the Medic?” The Doctor sat up. “Did she come in while I was sleeping?”

“Just a few minutes after you napped.”

Lena inclined her head. He followed her look to his back.

On the other side of a flowerbed, between a bed of red flowers and another of black was a woman vividly dressed in white. She sat on another bench, wearing a woolen hat that reminded him of a nurse’s cap Medics wore, a turtleneck sweater, and a frilly dress with detached sleeves. Blonde hair cascaded down her back in waves. Leaning on the bench was a metallic staff, with pulleys at the top from where a little birdcage hung.

She also had horns on the sides of her head; black as night, curved like a bull’s. Her hat had holes to accommodate for them.

She was a Sarkaz, a race known more for their independent, mercenary, and warlike personalities; they were hard to get along by nature. It did not help that plenty of Sarkaz fit the stereotype. ‘Demon’ and ‘devil’ were common slurs given to them.

The one peacefully, yet aimlessly gazing at the flowers all around her would have never fit the image. Nightingale slowly raised a thin, milk-pale arm in the air, cupping a rose in hand with as much care as one would with a little bird’s injured wing. It was a mesmerizing sight for the Doctor that he only snapped out of it when Lena bent her head low to whisper.

“Have you never met her?” she asked.

“Huh? Oh, well, no.” The Doctor shook his head. “I’ve only seen her a few times around the Ark, but I’ve never talked to her before.”

“Really? What a relief.”

“Uh, what do you mean by that?”

Lena’s eyebrows knitted themselves. “You’re too popular you know? We haven’t spent time together lately.”

“Ah, well…”

“Oh, and of course, you’ll say there’s work, and you have more friends and all…” The gardener made a show of crossing her arms and haughtily looked away. “Hmph! What happened to being one of my first patients of the Convalescence Garden?”

“Lena…”

“Don’t ‘Lena’ me, mister.” But she closed one eye, the other looking back at him expectantly.

The Doctor ruefully shook his head. “Pouting like that without your smile isn’t the woman who I’m grateful to. For reminding me that I’m allowed to take breaks, I will always remember you. I’ll be sure to come by some time on one of my breaks.”

Lena turned her head away, hiding her face. Still, she asked quietly, “You mean it?”

“Definitely.”

A beat, then Lena faced the Doctor with a shaky, almost upset curve of a smile. “W-Well, the Doctor’s way with words has improved so much in a few months!” The gardener picked up a watering can from a rack nearby. “Anyway, remember your promise to drop by again! And don’t oversleep here!”

The Doctor chuckled and waved the Vulpo off. He looked around the Garden, a greenhouse started and managed solely by Perfumer, and a few others with expertise in gardening on some days. Here was one of the Ark’s most reliable source of flowers.

He looked at a bush of blue hydrangeas, recalling what curative properties Lena told him before—and saw a blue bird fly over it, with feathers in the colors of a clear blue sky.

The Doctor mentally perused a book on birds he read. At first, he thought it was a hummingbird, but when it flitted and perched on a branch, it looked a little too large to be one, and lacked the machine-gun pace it flapped at. It looked more like a robin. Then it twittered and chirped—it went ‘rat-a-tat’ for a moment. Did robins sing so loudly? This bird sang longer and louder.

—He knew this bird. It was… a…

“All birds are free to fly wherever they go, free to sing any way they want. However, a nightingale’s singing stands out amongst birds so much that it is more common to see them kept as house pets in this land.”

The Doctor glanced back on instinct. The Sarkaz in white was nowhere to be seen. By the time he turned back, the nightingale was nowhere to be seen.

Also, this was something he wondered when he saw the bird fly underneath the shadows of shelves on the walls…

Was there such thing as a blue nightingale that glowed?

The Doctor was getting a brief body examination in a medical ward. Inside one of the spaces partitioned by curtains, he sat on a cot while the Medic sitting down had a look at him.

Figuratively speaking, since her eyes were closed.

“To repeat, have you felt any pain in your right arm lately?” asked the Medic.

“No,” he answered.

“Your left?”

“No…?”

“I need a clear answer, Doctor.”

“Only if I bump into something with it.”

“Then, your chest?”

“It happens when I am out of breath, or sometimes out of nowhere. They last only for a few seconds.”

This Sarkaz with white horns and flaxen hair, a woman hooded in a travel-worn black cloak and sleeveless black-white robes, peered at her patient. “Doctor, all I can say is that you need more awareness of your own body,” she admonished softly. “You would do better to leave physical labor to others. Especially today.”

“Not even with carrying pillows?”

“Perhaps, but with your tendency to push yourself? Exhaustion accumulates. You know this very well.”

The Doctor rubbed his left arm. “I don’t really like the idea of sitting still.”

“You must, for your sake.”

It was the kind of passionate plea Medics aspired to instill in certain self-sacrificing patients, but hearing it from this particular person made it strange. Dedicated as this Sarkaz was to her work, she did not always look so… vulnerable.

“Alright, Shining,” he said, injecting pep into himself, “I’ll be sure to watch—and only watch!—for today.”

Shining gave him a dubious tilt of her head. “Would you, now?”

“Cross my heart.”

“…I suppose there was that time you were like this…”

“Hm?”

“Just old memories, Doctor. Here, take my arm.”

The Doctor looked oddly at the Sarkaz, but she waited with her arm outstretched. So he took it. From the way Shining’s arm did not waver as she accepted the Doctor’s weight leaning on it, he could have mistaken it for steel.

“Uh… what a… gentle-lady you are,” the tactician joked. “Am I supposed to mistake you for Nearl?”

Shining silently gave him the barest of smiles in reply as they stood up—and walked to the exit together, arms still intertwined upon the Sarkaz’s insistence. Thankfully, the curtains were closed and not many people were in the room.

“Say, Shining?” the Doctor asked. “You’re part of a group named the Followers, right?”

“Yes; there are Nearl, Nightingale, and myself.”

“I saw Nightingale in the Convalescence Garden this morning, and I realized I never talked to her. What is she like?”

Shining paused, before replying, “I believe you will meet her soon enough on this day.”

“How do you know that?”

“She asked me about you this morning as well.”

“Her too…? Well, I have another question.”

“…?”

“Why do you close your eyes?”

Shining opened her eyes in answer, making the Doctor look up at the taller woman in surprise. They were dark brown, soft, radiating warmth. Hot chocolate came to mind. And yet, there was a hardness to the gaze the Doctor could not keep his mind off…

Then the Sarkaz closed her eyes with a mysterious smile. “As Platinum would say, ‘a girl should have her secrets’. Do treat Nightingale well, Doctor.”

Shining revealed a side of her not many might have glimpsed, and since the Doctor saw it, she made a request he was obligated to complete as payment; it sounded more like a social trap she led the Doctor into if the tactician was reading her right.

But as the Doctor watched Shining walk off alone, it felt more like he committed a crime by getting the Sarkaz to act that way.

The Doctor worked in his office now. Thankfully, today’s issues went by quick.

“That should be all for taking stock of our ammunition.” The Doctor tapped a finger on a clipboard before passing it to the logistics officer waiting in front of his desk. The officer thanked him, wide-eyed with awe before leaving.

“Gee, Baws, yer calcs are in-sane!” a Forte exclaimed in a (somewhat literal) cowgirl-ish accent. Like Nightingale, she had a pair of black horns on her head, with orange hair, a visor cap, and bearing the signature black—waist- and leg-baring—clothes of Penguin Logistics. “How’re you still swamped with paper on ‘em bad days?”

“That’s just because numbers aren’t the only things I deal with, Croissant, nor do I spend all my time sitting here. Anyway, that should be all for this week’s trade with Penguin Logistics. Saria, is the presentation finished?”

Saria looked up from her computer. “Tactical maps have been edited,” she confirmed. “The presentation is ready.”

“Alright! If that’s all, then you two are dismissed. Remember, the concert is at seven o’clock and takes place in the Hub’s main lounge. I don’t know when we’ll hold another gathering like this so I want to see you and your friends enjoying yourselves tonight, alright?”

“Aye-aye! Cheers for tonight, Baws!”

Croissant strode out of the room, singing something about paydays. Saria watched the cheery Defender leave.

“The diversity I see at Rhodes Island so far continues to amaze me,” Saria remarked.

“Ha… That’s the same thing Plume told me in her first days as my bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard? If I recall, you have the Specialist Gravel as your bodyguard.”

“I have two in total besides my acting secretary like you, virtually at all times except on breaks. Although… I’m pretty sure Gravel would tail me anywhere anytime, and Plume is really dedicated once she guards me.”

“Then that is all the more to your benefit, as questionable as the Specialist’s attitude may be.” Saria closed her laptop and stood up. “Will you be coming to the concert?”

“I will. What about you?”

“My former co-workers, Mayer and Ptilopsis, have invited me, despite my reservations with Ifrit and Silence likely appearing there.”

“I’m sure they’ll be there. Ifrit is curious about those kinds of things.”

“…”

“You better not back out. I’m worried that a loner like you might stand up your only friends—plus me—on this ship!”

Saria sighed. “I do not appreciate your image of me, or your self-proclamation as my friend.”

The Doctor grinned. “Then are we or are we not?”

“I would rather you did not get ahead of yourself.” The Vouivre irritably looked away. “Nonetheless, thank you for your concern. Rest assured that I will be there.”

Saria left in a huff. At least she was opening up a little, these days.

“Now then… let’s see what those performers will be up—”

Blue.

“…to…?”

The Doctor trailed off in his own thoughts when something flashed by his sight.

He looked to a corner of his eye. No, nothing.

Then—a flutter of blue!

He shot his head that way.

…Nothing. Only empty space greeted him.

Then, he heard something flapping in the air. Tenzin, SilverAsh’s gua— pet bird, made similar flapping sounds. He looked up.

It was the same blue bird from before, small, easy to cover in the Doctor’s hand. It flapped its wings in the air, just above his head, chirped loudly, and dominated over the office’s silence with wingbeats alone (besides the air conditioner humming) as it flew in a circle. By all rights, it should be an ordinary bird that probably flew in from somewhere. It happened before.

But this time, the Doctor thought something felt wrong with it. Why? He did not know (as usual). Other than that, he knew he closed the office’s windows; there was a pair in the office beside the kitchenette, allowing a view of the outside. The only other times the bird would have got into the office were when visitors opened the door, which no one indicated they spotted.

The bird chirped again and flew towards the door. The Doctor imagined it would peck at it or something to open it when it disappeared in a ruffle of feathers.

The Doctor stared at the blue plumes. They fell to the floor without a sound. He blinked to make sure he was not suffering from a post-exhaustion hallucination.

Now he stared at whitish grey floor tiles. Nothing blue was there.

So… he was only seeing things. Having a lie-down just an hour ago wasn’t enough. Maybe he wasn’t mentally fit after all?

“No!” he told himself. “That was so not natural that I have to investigate this!”

He looked at the door the bird flew at. He dashed out and into the empty hallway outside of it.

It was silent, with no one walking around. The Doctor’s office was a part of the Ark’s primary complex used for Rhodes Island’s main operations, but it was located in one of the most outer sections of the entire base, almost separate from places of note like the Control Center. Even if there was a day like the Operators gone off preparing for the concert, a hallway nearly devoid of people was a daily sight for the Doctor.

At least it made spotting the blue bird easier. He saw it flit around a corner. He followed…

…nearly running into someone standing against the wall.

“Nightingale?”

The Sarkaz in question looked at him, birdcage swaying as she turned with her staff in hand. “Hello, Doctor,” she greeted softly.

“Oh, hello.” The tactician waved a hand. “I think this is the first time we’ve met.”

“It is.”

Nightingale said nothing else as she stared at him. The Doctor resisted the urge to fidget.

“I was looking for a blue bird, this small,” he said, drawing a little circle in the air with a finger as a reference. “It flew inside my room before it, well, vanished into thin air. Have you seen it?”

Nightingale shook her head. “I did not see one pass my way. I was looking for a blue bird as well. However, I do not know one that vanishes.”

“Oh. Well. Maybe I’ll see that bird later.”

The conversation fell flat again. The Doctor thought of something to say when Nightingale asked, “Would you… search for that bird with me? Or rather, both birds?”

“Um…”

“But it may be… pointless. This ship is very large. I understand if you do not want to.”

“No, no, I’ll help. I was wondering what the bird you talked about has to do with you.”

Nightingale’s eyes seemed to brighten when the Doctor accepted her request, before seemingly going back to being lost in thought. “It… is a friend.”

“A friend?”

“I think so. It comes to me very often. It is different from the other I know longer. More animated, I would say.”

“When did you first meet it?”

“A week ago. It came to me with an injured wing; I mended it with my Arts. Perhaps it stays with me out of gratitude for that.”

“I didn’t know birds can get attached to people that way.”

“Neither did I. At least, that is what I hope it is all.”

“…?”

Nightingale stepped away from the wall. “Doctor, shall we go now?”

The Doctor nodded. “Do you have any idea where the birds are?”

“I do not. Do you know, Doctor?”

“Not me either…”

“Doctor, you do not need to…”

“Nonsense. I have…” The Doctor looked at his phone. “…five hours until the concert this night. I may as well spend that time helping you. You don’t need to feel sorry for me, alright?”

“Then, I am grateful, Doctor.”

—Two o’clock.

“Grani, hey there!”

“Doctor! How are you today? It’s getting crowded here so be careful! Oh, and you’re Nightingale, right? I’ve heard of a brave Medic who, despite her frail body, saved lots of lives! Um, no offense about your body.”

“Do not worry. It is true. I simply wished to help my friends, and those who needed my healing.”

“At any rate, Grani, we’re looking for two birds this small, both blue. I think it’s called a nightingale. Is that right, uh, Nightingale?”

“It is.”

"When did you last see it, ma'am?"

"Three days ago, in the Hub."

“That's plenty of time for a bird to be gone... Ah, don't worry! Search requests are my specialty! Just leave it to me!”

“Grani, wai— oh, she’s already off…”

“What a pure soul.”

“Mm, she’s only been here for a few months, but she’s being called the ‘friendly neighborhood hero’ already. I better message her before she does try to look around on her own, though. Let’s move on.”

—Three o’clock.

“…There. You should be fine now.”

“Thank you big miss Medic! Papercuts are dumb!”

“Take care.”

“Thanks, miss!”

“That was a lot of children that came over. Nightingale, do you come to this nursery all the time?”

“Ever since the time I borrowed a book about a blue dove, the children have asked me to read stories to them should I come by. They say they like my voice for how soft it is.”

“Huh. Red once said she doesn’t like my voice. Too loud, apparently…”

“I do not believe it is difficult to adjust your own voice.”

“Maybe I’ve been shouting on the battlefield too much. Lots of noise comes from everywhere.”

“…Are you well, Doctor?”

“What? Oh, you mean am I bothered by having to be on the battlefield? You can say I’m determined to see my Operators through every mission. I’m fine. I should be asking you that.”

“It is… cruel. Seeing lives extinguished on any side is not what I want to see. But I cannot stop now.”

“I wonder if that’s why Perfumer gets along with you. She talks with you, right?”

“I have been visiting her garden ever since Perfumer invited me. Its owner is very kind to have such a peaceful place for people who need to rest their mind. Although, at some point, I was watching y— listening to music.”

“…?”

“…Doctor, do you go to the garden for the same purpose?”

“Oh, it’s more than just a breath of fresh air for me too. Did you know she brews tea at specific hours? Be careful with scheduling visits there before work times. The flowers and tea together are bound to make you fall asleep…”

—Four o’clock.

“—the history of the Aslan Empire has lasted for nearly two decades to present day; we are nearing the anniversary for—“

“Why in the world are we in the classrooms…”

“I do not see any birds here, Doctor.”

“Right then. Let’s be quiet—”

“Ah! Doctor, whatever are you doing here today?”

“Hypatia. Sorry, we were looking for two blue birds.”

“Well, you won’t find any in this class! But would you mind if you spared some time to comment on the current ruling monarchy of Victoria? I believe we discussed over history once. You would know much by now on the subject.”

“I am really not the right person to consult on this. We’ll be going now—”

“Doctor, you’re a traitor to book-readers everywhere.”

“What the— where did that come from, Istina?”

“I never saw those books you lent to Miss Eyjafjalla, Senior. Where did you hide them?”

“I just happened to find them…”

“Then make it up to me here, unless I must guilt you into something else.”

“I am not taking this from you.”

“Would you risk the consequences, regardless?”

“…Nightingale, could you give me a moment to deal with this?”

—Five o’clock.

“It’s that Doctor again. He’s been coming out of his office a lot more lately.”

“Yeah… you think he’s out patrolling?”

“With Nightingale? What is she doing with him? Did he drag her along?”

“No idea. Who knows what he really thinks.”

“C’mon, guys, he’s proven himself to be a harmless guy. He’s led us through thick and thin already!”

“Yeah, but you know, we’re talking about a… some kind of legendary shadow chessmaster. The Head Medic wouldn’t have kept him around otherwise. We’ve seen the records. We’ve heard the stories. Isn’t it stranger to think that he isn’t capable of doing it?”

“Old Blaststar blew himself up at the old Doctor’s order. Ironteeth posed as a bandit for too long. What’s the next trick he’ll come up with one of our best Medics?”

“Guys, ugh, shut up! You’re all drunk! At least take it somewhere else!”

“…”

“…”

“…Doctor…?”

“Let’s keep moving, Nightingale.”

“A chessmaster, huh?”

“What was it you said, Doctor?”

“Nothing. Sorry for leading you around so much,” the Doctor apologized to Nightingale as they rested at a bench, inside one of the dormitory common rooms.

“No, I should be apologizing for slowing our search like this.” Nightingale herself was looking flushed though.

“Let’s take our time resting.” The Doctor needed it for his sore feet too. “I think we haven’t checked out the Main Hub yet, or the loading bays. Actually, we visited less than half of the open places on the Ark…”

“Doctor, we can look on another day. I appreciate that you have stayed by me despite how easily you tire. Furthermore, I enjoyed myself seeing so many people.”

“You don’t sound like you talk to people much, even with your popularity.”

Nightingale held a hand over her heart. “As you know by now, my body often fails me due to a certain toxin. Moving from place to place like this is not something I could do as much as I want to.”

“I’m sorry for not paying attention to your stamina sooner.”

“You have no need to. I could not have walked alone as much as I did today without you.”

Didn’t everyone who was lacking in something all? The Doctor could remember the hundreds of times he relied on someone else for something, work or not.

“Doctor, I never said this until now, but thank you.”

The Doctor started when Nightingale started bowing to him. “Hey, hold on now, what are you thanking me for?”

“For your hard work.” The Sarkaz’s look was much more focused on him now. “It has been over a year since the Followers joined Rhodes Island. And I thought it was lonely, in the early part of the year after your disappearance.”

“The time I was gone?” There was a lot of history about that period, but the Doctor didn’t think he asked someone about that. “Amiya and Dr. Kal’tsit mentioned how badly the company went through.”

“I remember that Nearl said several missions did not go as well the Island would have wanted. Most of such missions were too minor in the larger scope of Rhodes Island’s goals, or so I understand. The missions that were of a critical or combat nature were often the most likely to fail in some aspect, even if they could say they completed them.”

The Doctor could only imagine all the things it took to keep an organization like that afloat. “Because I wasn’t there? Was it that devastating to not have such a person?”

“There were other reasons, but yes, I believe Rhodes Island lacked a commander on the field who could lead them to victory. No, not just a commander… they needed someone who could give them hope. They may have achieved their goals with their own determination in time, but there are Infected who cry out for help throughout the world. The Islanders are not so stoic as to ignore the people they know they cannot help. Others are still shackled by their pasts. It all… weighed on them.” Nightingale’s eyes closed. “Without you, the dream of achieving a future for the Infected was nothing more than an illusion. Everyone, in their own way, lost heart.”

The Doctor couldn’t help but scoff at the idea. He knew there was some good reason Amiya and everyone else kept secrets about him. “That sounds absurd. Everyone says the past me was some kind of evil shadow, the big mastermind that played chess with their lives. Why aren’t they relieved to be gone of that?”

“No. Do not confuse yourself with a shadow of the past.” Nightingale’s eyes shot open with a force the Doctor was taken aback by. “On the day you were discovered, it was as though everyone had a fire lit in them. I saw it even in those who scorn you today. Rhodes Island remembers a shadow who craved victory, and for all they loathed it, it was a shadow they called their own.”

“While it may not have seemed to you that your presence changed much, you are appreciated by many. You concerned yourself with so many people today, and continue to do so in how you pass down teachings, how you must know more, and how you receive the curses of people who do not understand. Doctor, please take pride in what you have achieved as your own self. You are not that shadow. I understand how it feels to want to do more, in place of feeling lost trying to remember a past others say you have. And worse, you know there is.”

“But you have come far on path you were lost on. You are an inspiration to me.” Nightingale bowed again. “Thank you, for making Rhodes Island into the idyllic place I have seen today.”

The Doctor… felt lighter.

This was not the first time the tactical advisor heard something like this. There were quite a few people who knew him intimately, like Amiya, and reassured him. But to hear it from someone who only got to knew him today was a different impact, because it told him—reminded him—that there were people like Nightingale who can be lost in life and still want to help strangers.

The Doctor placed a hand on the Sarkaz’s shoulders. “Nightingale, thank you so much for saying all of that.”

“I could not stand to see you in such a state. Not—Not when you have been… been?”

Nightingale’s eyes flickered.

“Nightingale?”

“I… I thought I remembered something.”

The Doctor observed Nightingale’s face casting a shadow. “Don’t force yourself,” he told her. “This is supposed to be a night where everyone is having fun, so leave it for another day, alright?”

“I…” Nightingale blinked, and nodded. “I will.”

“Good! I think the concert should be minutes away from…”

The Doctor took out his phone and froze when he looked at it.

“Doctor? What is it?”

He showed the phone’s clock to her.

6:55 PM

7:26 PM

The lounge was more like a plaza what with its wide open space in the center and a raised stage near the back, while all the plush sofas, tables, and other amenities were laid against the windows to the side. There was an actual plaza for the Hub, but it was here that most of the Operators gathered and held public events.

In the case of the concert, rows and rows of benches were lined up with each other in organized squares. At the back were raised bleachers placed at equal intervals from each other in a semicircle. All seats faced the stage, where it was blocked off by a line of portable fences and a few security guards in chairs. One burly-looking Feline with black hair was sitting down—menacingly. The fences and guards probably had something to do with a certain blonde idol.

Backstage was an area curtained off to hide the musicians who hid in the supply room before the concert. Dozens of participants waited for their turn to step out of the curtain.

A Liberi was calling out names on a list. “Alright. ‘Winter’s Storm’ is finished! Man they were loud… Er, Miss Amiya? Will you still keep on waiting?”

Amiya, their usually implacable leader, was wringing her hands. She rocked the chair she sat on so much everyone who was looking waited to catch her.

“Um, I’m fine! I’m just worried and need some time to settle down…” she excused herself hurriedly, taking a quick peek through the curtains.

Sitting next to Amiya was an Archosauria woman with bushy green hair, who snorted, crocodile tail swishing the floor restlessly. Gavial was here in case any injuries happened, much to everyone’s dismay. After all, her infamous motto was “Pain is just weakness leaving the body”, or something close to that.

“Yeah, we know, you’re waiting for that beansprout and all,” the violent Medic whispered with a not-so-subtle grin. Amiya went red. “Just get on with your act already! You’re practically the big surprise of this show. Even if he doesn’t show up, I’m sure he can just look at the recordings later and praise you.”

“But it’s pointless if he doesn’t come. He promised…” Amiya mumbled.

“Man, for a leader you’re acting like a spoiled kid. Who knew you had it in you?”

“Gavial— Huh…? Oh!”

“There’s the guy. Happy now? Oh, and there’s that Medic with the anti-Arts thing.”

“Holding hands…”

“Looks like they’re going to get a better view from the bleachers. Oh, they’re sitting next to that kid. Uh, Ey-something. Now that’s a bad case of Oripathy if I’ve seen one.”

“That… sounds ironic coming from you, Gavial.”

“What? Ironic?”

“Um, never mind. They’re getting comfortable together…”

“Cushy seats, yeah. Anyway, there’s your Doctor. Now get out there will you!?”

With that, after a surprising performance from Matoimaru’s mandolin (and breaking it, wood, strings, and all), Amiya stepped onto the stage, resplendent in a black and blue dress; the Cautus silently thanked Bibeak the Liberi seamstress. The crowd cheered as Amiya restrained herself from blushing and smiled. Then she was beaming when she saw the Doctor wave to her. She ignored her thoughts on how there was a girl on either side of him.

Everyone backstage watched. Then someone spoke up.

“What did she say she was using again?”

“The violin, right? She played it in front of a couple of people just a few days ago.”

“Where’s her violin, then?”

A lot of eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. They looked back to see their little leader sit at the piano.

The crowd went quiet. Yes, Amiya was playing the piano. Why?

Memories, of a masked man at the piano, of a shadowed woman showing a violin. They played, made a woman with white hair smile, and let that young Cautus have her first dreams.

Amongst the many songs they taught her, both played a certain piece. Amiya’s fingers danced across the keys. She felt surprised with herself, and happy; her grace never left her after all.

With that, the debut of Amiya the pianist was underway. As everyone’s eyes were glued to the stage, as the Doctor unconsciously hummed the exact same tune, one Sarkaz felt herself fall into a memory.

She heard a melody. When was the last time she had heard music like this?

She walked over to the window—one barred with black metal, ensuring that she could not escape. The captors still had much for her to do in her cage.

But it was quiet. There would be people headed inside of this cage of stone—Liz’s cage was part of a place much bigger. From what little part of the world the window showed, be it when the world brightened or darkened, there would always be someone or many headed down a brick, grassy path into this cage. She met some of them, treated them.

There had been no one on that path over the past days (weeks? Years? Decades?). The path was overgrown with green weeds. No one walked this path until the night there was a group of shadowed figures. She heard voices shouting, rising, then the people she knew as her captors heading back to this cage. Moments later, she heard music.

A piano, she remembered it was called. She stood there, hands touching against the bars, transfixed.

She saw, in a corner of the window, a grand piano. There was one to the side of the path. Someone was sitting down, playing it. It looked broken, abandoned. Liz thought she remembered a man with a… a musical conductor’s baton. He bled away singing something in a slew of mumbles.

It was loud in the quiet night.

It started as a low, slow melody. Then it rose, a little faster, louder.

A breeze grew. It was winding, growing, faster, almost expectant. The cage she was in felt too small for this wind—

“Nightingale?”

There was a bright sky out there. The girl saw birds soaring through it, free—

“Nightingale… Nightingale?”

The shadowed figure stopped for a moment.

“Um… Liz?”

A green eye looked at her.

“—Ah?” the Sarkaz gasped.

The Doctor was waving a hand in front of her eyes. “Liz? Ah, Nightingale? Are you back?”

Nightingale looked around her. A few watchers in the seats below her were weeping. On the stage, Amiya, a… familiar girl, was bowing to an applauding audience. The Caprinae girl next to the Doctor, Eyjafjalla, was looking at the Sarkaz with worry.

Nightingale collected her thoughts, as much as she could after such an episode. “Oh. Doctor. How… How long was I in a daze?”

“Only for Amiya’s entire performance. I was calling out to you because of the birds.”

“The birds?”

The Doctor pointed to her staff. The Medic looked. So did Eyjafjalla, who gasped.

Two blue nightingales were inside the cage. They hobbled around on the floor, but they did not flap their wings, or even sing. They were staying silent.

Nightingale reached a finger into the cage, letting one of the birds perch onto it. She could feel its claws lightly dig into her skin.

“So is this your friend?” asked the Doctor.

“It… it is. I hope.”

“You hope?”

“My Originium Arts lies in shaping barriers against other Arts. In addition, I can create… illusions. Fleeting Phantoms, they are called.”

The Doctor examined the other bird in the cage. “So your Phantoms take the form of a nightingale?”

“It mesmerizes enemies. It is… familiar. I do not know why. Is it because of my amnesia?”

“Um… I understand that illusion-based Arts are dependent on the Caster’s imagination. That imagination can be linked to one’s unconsciousness, so I think that what you mean by ‘familiar’, it is indeed your repressed memories taking a form you think is important, or your deepest feelings.”

The Doctor and Nightingale looked at Eyjafjalla. She shuffled in her seat. “Ah… sorry, I overheard what you said, and I know about your, um, case, Miss Nightingale. I detected the build-up of Arts right at the start of Amiya’s performance, coming from you.”

“I see.” Nightingale glanced at her staff. “So one of them must be an illusion?”

“You can’t tell which of the birds is a Phantom?” the Doctor asked.

“There is a curious effect when one looks at one of the Phantoms, or so other people have said as they look at it,” recalled Nightingale. “They can feel the emotions come off it, intensely so that they lose focus the longer they watch. I… I feel too much.”

“I sense so much sadness,” Eyjafjalla murmured softly. “I cannot imagine what you feel now, Miss Nightingale.”

The Sarkaz stared at the bird on her finger, which still had not so much as chirped. The stage was now occupied by Sora, the Vulpo idol herself. She glowed in ways that the headlights above should not have been capable of, singing a sad song that Nightingale dimly registered as appropriate.

The Doctor, though, looked at the bird in the cage. He offered his finger to it. The bird perched onto it, then let it be carried next to Nightingale’s finger. Both of them watched as the two birds looked at each other, flapped their wings once, and chirp—quietly, as though they respected the silence for the concert.

“Does it really matter all that much if we have to see which one was real? They both look happy. At least, I’m happy to have finally found them.”

“Why?” asked Nightingale. “Is it not important to know what you can truly stand on, rather than to mistake something for what it is not?”

The Doctor shook his head. “Regardless of whether or not reality or illusion can be separated, both are one and the same unless proven otherwise. Even then, what reality is for one person is always different from everyone else.”

Both Nightingale and Eyjafjalla sucked in a breath.

“Eyja, what did you think of the book, 'Kagerou'?” the Doctor asked his self-appointed junior… well, kouhai.

“Oh! For a book on heat-based Arts, it felt more like an introspection!” Eyjafjalla started to get into an excited mood as she unloaded her thoughts. “I felt inspired by how the book essentially focuses on what it means to accept and reject reality, how Arts is seen as a way of projecting your reality onto others. Even if your life as a person suffering from thirst is dependent on whether the well in front of you is a desert mirage or not, you're still seeing something, and that alone proves you are a living person with their own views. In a way, the things you’re confident in is unique to yourself.”

“My self…” Nightingale murmured to herself. “Then do I simply ignore what these birds may be?”

“Why ask us?” the Doctor questioned back. “Liz, what do you believe?”

A jolt went through the Sarkaz. ‘Liz’. Did she tell him her real name earlier? It was not that she meant to keep it a secret—her real name was even on the public records—but something told her to wait.

Because she wanted to know if the Doctor remembered.

Liz looked at the birds on their fingers. “Doctor… did you realize what you just called me?”

“What, ‘Liz’?” The Doctor paused, and his mind caught up with his words. “I… never heard your real name.”

“You even knew it was my real name. Yes… that settles it.”

The Doctor looked at her in confusion. So did Eyjafjalla, who still had no idea of the context behind this conversation. Liz raised her nightingale into the air, where it flew off into the air. The nightingale from the Doctor’s hand followed its partner without a second thought.

Then, once the pair flew high enough into the darkness of the unlit ceiling above, both nightingales glowed. They disappeared in a ruffle of blue feathers, just like what happened in the Doctor saw in his office.

“Both of them were Phantoms…?” Eyjafjalla observed in surprise.

“Doctor, those birds were proof that I have a past I cannot ignore,” Nightingale spoke. A hot feeling swelled within, driving her to take the Doctor’s hands in hers. “They whispered to me, and I did not know why until now. You may well be the key to it, and I to yours. One day, I know that we will discover our pasts, for good or ill. Would you be there with me?”

The Doctor looked at Nightingale for a long moment before he grasped the Medic’s hands. Soft, he thought.

“Sure,” he answered.

Sora ended her performance with rousing cheers, and the rest of concert proceeded without another hitch until the Operators called for an encore. Through it all, a still confused Eyjafjalla interviewed the Doctor and Nightingale what in the world were the Fleeting Phantoms.

The next morning, in the Head Medic’s lab, Kal’tsit was pinching her forehead over a certain report on her desk.

A summary of the contents? A request to put Nightingale on even more dangerous missions, with supervision from Shining, Nearl, and other Operators capable of it. And of course, the Doctor gave his stamp of approval. Reasoning: Greater application and experience of her Anti-Arts capabilities under the Doctor’s command.

Kal’tsit and the entire Medical Department put their foot down on it. They were on the fence when they allowed a physically unfit Operator to participate in such missions all those months ago. That was why Shining requested a talk to argue things out.

And one way or another, Rhodes Island will be seeing Nightingale on the frontline. They were an organization that respected choice, in the end.

So Kal’tsit set that report aside. She looked at the computer on her desk.

Over all the security camera recordings showing the grand piano on the lounge's stage, one video recording was playing. In it was the Doctor, masked and clothed, playing the piano.

From a hallway that led to the elevators to the side, Nightingale watched silently.

Over the past three months, the Doctor played the piano at night nine times, including the time when he revealed his face a week ago. Five times Nightingale appeared; the first was during the Doctor’s fourth time at the piano, then the Medic appeared with consistent regularity after the sixth.

Over the past three months, excluding the days Nightingale had to depart on missions or was missing due to an unknown reason, the Sarkaz was there in the lounge, watching from the hallway, at the exact same time, leaving when the Doctor was not there, and staying when the Doctor was there. She would be there as long as the Doctor was.

A recurring scene. And that was only the footage with Nightingale.

Another report was on her table. This one listed ‘Energy Readings’ at the time of those recordings. There was a rise each time the Doctor played. This week’s reading was the highest of them yet.

Kal’tsit sighed. This, on top of the cooperation with Lungmen.

“Red,” she called out.

A Lupo in a red coat appeared out of nowhere by the Head Medic’s side. Her gray wolf ears did not twitch at the slightest as she waited for her next order.

“You are to monitor the Doctor and report his actions to me, as usual. Watch for any more people around him as well.”

“Understood.”

Chapter Text

This was a land of men and monsters and mysterious darkness. All over the world, metaphorical sides of light and shadow clashed and weaved with each other into an incomprehensible chain of countless conflicts and meetings leading up to the Terra as the world knew today. All of that was centered around the many regions around the world, governed by world powers that kept each other in check more than they actually cooperated.

Of such city-states and nations of Terra, Great Lungmen stood out as an economic giant of the world, a neighbor to the state of Yen, a likely ally to Higashi, and producer of the now worldwide Lungmen Dollars. Its capital and Nomadic City was a ground over which blood had been spilt underneath the shadows of skyscrapers, built upon layers of conspiracy after conspiracy.

Ensuring that this city stayed standing was the Lungmen Guard Department. Of course, Wei Yenwu was the most prominent leader of the city besides a few others who would prefer to go unnamed, but the L.G.D. dealt mostly in public affairs.

At the moment, the L.G.D. was in a cooperation agreement with Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals Inc., a medical company that dealt with Infected. And with that one fact, sparks flew between the ranks of both L.G.D. and Rhodes Island over the past months.

In fact, that was what three of L.G.D.’s Special Inspection Unit went out to drink out their frustrations over.

“*insert Lungmen slang here*”

“*insert swear word there*”

“*insert cat-related slur about incompetency*”

“*insert bad joke about traitorous dragons*”

That was what most of their talk devolved into as Hoshiguma the green-haired Oni sighed loudly. She watched until the two started to tear each other’s cheeks apart.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough you two!” With her strength and the two drunkards’ addled senses, the Oni pulled them off each other. “Ch’en, Swire, you’ve had enough to drink.”

The two just yowled out incoherent slangs at each other and at the rude woman who shouldn’t butt in on a fight. Hoshiguma sighed again.

“Doctor, I’m sorry you had it worse on that one night… Hey, come on girls, at least try some better spirits! Barkeep, pour some sake will you?”

After two more bottles, both dragon and tiger were asleep enough to be carted back to their apartments.

“So old Lee’s interested in some moving hospital?”

“Rhodes Island. They made quite a stir ever since the defense of Lungmen three months ago. Also, don’t let him catch you saying that. Honestly, you practice medicine. You should be aware of such an organization already.”

“Sue me. I thought those guys in black and blue on the TV are mercenaries.”

“The headlines practically underlined what they are.”

“Eh, I’ve got better stuff to do than to see another bunch of ‘lifesavers’.”

“Aak, you’re also going to Rhodes Island.”

“…Wait, seriously? Aw, c’mon, I—”

“And this document should ease your doubts.”

“Uh… Mr. Blood? He’s… uh, wait, she’s in Rhodes Island? No way. Her?”

“This is still a job, and accordingly, you will be paid well. The agency hasn’t been paying well lately, so this is your chance for your research to go further.”

“Well… oh, fine! You and Hung know me too well.”

“What the—? Call in an engineer!”

“Hey, why’s the gate smoking!?”

The security gates of Lungmen were built with some of the most advanced Oripathy-scanning technology Rhine Lab had to offer. Now, one scanner gate smoked after a Vouivre with orange hair and an unusual accent hurriedly picked up a huge cylindrical case she left it leaning on and left.

“S-Snowsant, reporting for duty!”

A Liberi girl with white and black hair-feathers stood straight at attention in the L.G.D. Headquarters’ reception area. She had dark rings underneath her eyes.

She waited for a reply. Then she looked around again after a slight sway in her steps.

“…W-Where is everyone…?”

A… woman with white hair with red streaks in it cackled as she sauntered away with her mahjong winnings. It had been inconvenient when she arrived with an outdated currency, but she more than made up for it in a gambling den.

Then she spotted a couple of people in black and blue jackets in the midst of a crowded street, not to mention the words ‘Rhodes Island’ emblazoned across some parts of the uniform.

Wait. She remembered that project!

“Hey! Yeah, you, the armored one with blonde hair! Mind if I came to your base for a bit?”

“H-Hey! Hic-! You, red hood!”

“…What is it? I refuse to entertain drunkards.”

“Yeah, you! Reunion Movement, right?”

“Do not associate me with those barbarians. I have naught to do with them.”

“Yeah, that’s what they all say. C’mere! And— woo! Pretty lady! Now, how’s this for a deal? You, uh, comfort me, hehe— uh, who turned on the lights— agghhhh!”

And miles and miles away from all that happened inside Lungmen’s city walls, resting by some small, rocky hills, was an encampment.

“Skullshatterer.”

Separate from the campfires that all the other Reunion members gathered around was a hooded figure. Unlike the rank and file with their featureless masks, this one had a gas mask on, He sharpened twin black blades with a whetstone while a pair of grenade launchers were propped against the crate he sat on.

He was small. A boy, everyone knew. But he was their leader.

“Yes?” Skullshatterer addressed the man who came over alone to talk with him.

The man bowed his head timidly. “I was just wondering… well, you were there, during the first battle against Lungmen, right? I was stationed back in Chernobog so I only got snippets of what happened.”

Skullshatterer sighed, which came out muffled with his mask on. “Honestly, I wouldn’t say it’s a battle. It lasted for a week, we took valuable resources, had recruits to the cause, and we put up a fight, but by no means did we really deal the damage we wanted.”

“What? Then what did you attack Lungmen for?”

“Talulah wanted recruits. Our Movement needed resources too, so we attacked the L.G.D.’s headquarters. But, Lungmen’s Guard’s turned out to be sneakier than we thought, and there was Rhodes Island…”

The grenadier’s hand tightened into fists. The grunt fumbled for words to say.

“Er, Rhodes Island?” he asked warily.

“Yes. The traitors.”

“Traitors, sir?”

“Infected, the lot of them.” Skullshatterer growled. “They were the ones who decimated our first attack force, even though they were meant to hold them in place until our surprise forces took control of Lungmen. Have you heard of them? They were the ones who dared to call themselves healers for the Infected while they slaughter their own and work alongside the very policemen that have killed and tortured Lungmen’s Infected!”

“That—That’s terrible! Don’t worry, sir, we won’t let people like that get the best of us!”

“People…” Skullshatterer’s tone quivered with anger until, suddenly, it was not. “Hah. If only it were that simple. Misha…”

“Who?”

“My sister. She is the real reason I actually wanted to be this invasion’s spearhead. I know from some of the Infected in Lungmen that they saw an Ursus with white hair like that.”

“Did… did you find her?”

“No.” Skullshatterer shook his head and looked back at the man. “Anyway, you should go get some rest. We’ll be doing patrols again tomorrow.”

“And… after all this? I mean, after we’ve done all these small jobs of raiding caravans and scouting? Do we invade Lungmen?”

There was an anxious, almost excited feeling in this grunt’s words. Skullshatterer nodded.

“We invade. The… first attack was ultimately a test of Lungmen’s defenses, and it showed we were too small for this trial. This time, Reunion’s full might will bear down on that city. This time, we will have a home for Infected everywhere.”

The grunt shook at the promises, then left for his tent with an energy in his gait. As for the leader…

Actually, he had lied to the grunt. The first attack was supposed to be the only attack. No seconds, no tests, no waiting for months—they were supposed to have Lungmen within days of the invasion. Instead, Skullshatterer and his men were sent packing into the wastes for all their efforts.

“What in the world is Talulah doing…” Skullshatterer furiously muttered to himself. “If we had Yeti Squadron, or Faust’s Phantom Crossbowmen, or—yes, even—even that filthy boy and his undead. We would have delivered a city! But no, they still had to occupy all of Chernobog. Why…?”

He let out another sigh. He set his blades to his side.

He looked at the sky. There were no stars tonight, with the strange, dark clouds in the way. But he imagined them sparkling there anyway, and remembered a story of trickery.

There were two famed songs in Chernobog, told to sleepless children to gang members in the know to intrigued important people of the Empire. On one night a few decades ago, before Skullshatterer and his sister were born, there were two singers. No one knew much about them other than that. On that night, broadcasting stations and loudspeakers were hijacked by unknown means. Hacking, some speculated. It would be easy since Ursus did not have such anti-hacking measures at the time.

Either way, what the entire capital heard haunted its listeners. Two songs addressed them, the first of a man heralding the doom of the walls, then the second of a woman's message to home. Then the two singers both sang together in perfect synchrony, of passions lost and prophecies kept. Ten minutes of the impromptu citywide concert had passed as the citizens were hypnotized and sent into a sort of crazed excitement, bursting with questions. Who were they? What kind of music was this? Their all-powerful government was still scrambling to find out what was happening until a video was sent through the city’s TVs.

There were two people standing, hooded and masked. Then one of the two pointed at the screen.

“Come down,” was all the muffled voice said.

At the time, most of the city walls were still under construction. One of those walls did come down. Then another. Then another. A completed one collapsed too. Somehow, no one died, but prisoners of a place those specific walls boxed in at the time did escape. It was part of why nearly no one was there, since no right-minded guard liked being next to the Infected. Perhaps not all were innocent or Infected, but it was an amazing feat nevertheless.

Later, the two songs and any mention of the 'Phantom Sirens' were banned by the government until the entire city’s population petitioned to lift the ban. Now it was a song frowned upon by more patriotic citizens. Only those who dared to sing it passed down the songs to those who listened, spreading it far and wide into Ursus lands until a pair of children heard them in a distant town. Maybe that was where Reunion got their hood-and-mask uniform. Even as featureless, unremarkable, did two people dare to fight against the Ursus Empire. Why can no other nobody do the same?

“For you, Mother, and you, the Doctor I’ve never met,” he said.

Since Skullshatterer was only one person, he could only sing one song. This song was fitting for this situation anyway.

“I dig my hole you build a wall”

“I dig my hole you build a wall”

“One day that city is gonna fall.”

“…Mother, I’m here…”

Somewhere in an unassuming candy shop, in an attic, a silver-haired Ursus girl sang alone by a window, looking out into the night.

“Oh? Whatever was that song, little Misha?”

A rat—a literal, white-bearded, bipedal rat in black robes—slowly walked up from downstairs, asking. The Ursus turned quickly to address him.

“Oh, it’s a song from my home. It’s actually part of a pair. My brother and I would sing one song each together and get in trouble with some local authorities.” Misha lowered her head. “They were… better times.”

The ratman softly patted Misha’s head, smiling. “I’m sure you’ll find your brother. I, for one, am looking for a good rest now. Would you sing that song for me?”

“Sure!”

Chapter Text

A woman with long hair the color of wheat. A Vanguard with eyes ever far away. A Draco from Victoria. And yet, a mystery like many a Rhodes Islander.

“A ‘Dra-co’? What’s a Draco, Doctor? I don’t think we ever get taught about other races that much in Chernobog. …Oh, someone who looks like a Vouivre, only with another pair of horns, and on… fire? That sounds scary! But yeah, I think I saw someone like that come here in the afternoon once to pick up boxed foods.”

“Reed… oh, a ‘special patient’? We, uh, are supposed to get special permission from her to even see her in person. The Medics who heard about her are really bothered by the fact that her only medical records are from when she first came here months ago… Um, Doctor are you really alright drinking that many herbs…? I’m sorry for asking you to test them…”

“Such a lady… ah, I remember having seen a tail with a flame around the library. I recall having seen other Dracos during… my time in Victoria, though they such sights were miracles in themselves, and only in 'darker' places they lived. If it was you, my friend… no, it is of no concern.”

“Her ‘flames’ can’t possibly be ordinary flames! Don’t you see!? That thing is not so much fire as much as pure control over… over… life? What-Whatever it is! And it is certainly not THAT more powerful than my meteorites! Now if only she could show herself more often, then we can have a true debate…!”

These were all rare snippets of what the Doctor heard involving Reed, usually because he was the one who mentioned her. He couldn’t help asking. After all…

The two of them sat on the same sofa in the Doctor’s office one day. Reed was the secretary this time.

“It’s just one last stack, Reed,” the Doctor pleaded.

The Draco said nothing as she read a book in her hands, serenely flipping a page. The Doctor sighed and looked down on his waist.

Stretching from underneath Reed’s rear was a scaled tail the color of charcoal, wrapped around him. It was not tight, but no matter how much he budged, the tail stayed curled in a protective embrace.

How did he and such a secretive Draco get to know each other like this?

It happened a month into the Doctor’s tenure as Rhodes Island’s tactician. The Ark was still docked at the Nomadic City of Great Lungmen, and Rhodes was more or less cleaning up the last of the Reunion Movement’s remnants lurking in the city after the invasion; they were on one such operation in a battle-torn sector of Lungmen. It separated from the main sections of the Nomadic City weeks ago, purposefully evacuated of civilians, and sacrificed to give Reunion a bait.

No Operator was killed or wounded. Most of Reunion’s soldiers were captured while their Originium Slugs were burnt to a crisp, courtesy of Skyfire. Vanilla was arguing about taking one and screaming in dismay when Fang speared it on sight. The Doctor was consulting with Superintendent Ch’en over what happened on L.G.D.’s side of the operation while the Operators walked back to armored personnel carriers ready to take them home.

Except one. The Doctor spotted a lone figure under an intact bus stand.

She was a woman with long grayish yellow hair, ends cut, dressed in a plain white jacket and a black sweater over thigh-high boots. On the front and sides of her head grew a pair of black horns, curving and pointed much like a Vouivre’s. Her serpentine tail, charcoal black as it stretched from under her jacket, blending into crimson scales and ending in a dull, licking flame, was slumped over the ground. One hand clutched a spear that stood taller than its wielder, bladed on both sides of the head and the butt, clearly made for battle.

That day was the Doctor’s first time he met her. She professionally introduced herself earlier during the mission briefing, though reserved. Any interactions they had afterwards were over the radio, trading reports for orders and nothing else. The other Operators on the squad were either somewhat wary of her or treated her like any other Operator. Reed did well as a Vanguard, exceedingly so, bearing down on every Caster she met as she somehow brushed aside every blast of Originium Arts with sparks of flame and a sweep of her spear. In one heart-stopping case, she let a bolt of blue sparks wash over her like it was nothing more than a breeze.

But they had to leave now. The Doctor cleared his throat. “Excuse me? Miss Reed?” he called. When he did not see the Draco move, the tactician walked closer. “Miss Reed? We’re all leaving now.”

Reed still did not reply. The Doctor walked to her side and saw her face.

What a sad face, the tactician thought. Reed’s eyes were blue, leaning towards sapphire. He thought they would have been brilliant if they didn’t look so clouded.

The Doctor followed the Draco’s gaze to the scene in front of them. The tactician remembered having Reed and Plume lure the main bulk of the Originium Slug swarm here into Operators’ readied Arts. Once, there was a road wide enough for four cars, tar black, striped white with road markings and zebra crossings. Now it was all cracked, gouged out with craters deep enough for a bike to park in, smoking and burning from projectiles of varying damage types, exploding Slugs, and Skyfire’s meteorites. The pavements and nearby buildings on either side of the room were altogether a crumbling mess. A food cart was overturned and smashed. The skies above were cloudy with black smoke.

It must have been a lively place, for all Lungmen’s ruling government said it was ‘regrettable and expendable’. The thousands of inhabitants moved from here were in other sectors at the moment, waiting for the announcement telling them they can go back to their homes. Until then, they had to put up with temporary housing possibly lasting for months. Wei Yenwu had helpfully reminded the Doctor of that in an earlier meeting.

Reed looked at it all. The Doctor called out to her, again, but nothing happened. She was still stuck in place.

This was a battlefield, and the Doctor had a feeling someone was going to look for them—Plume most likely would, being his bodyguard since two weeks ago. Desperate, and perhaps inconsiderate, he touched Reed’s shoulder.

She reacted instantly; the Draco jumped back, staggering, gasping, tail frantically sweeping the ground as she held her spear in both of her hands and close to her body. She looked ready to shove, eyes scanning and finally landing on the Doctor, who watched and stood there dumbly.

"H-How did you...!?" stammered Reed.

As Reed gave him wary looks, the Doctor saw her chest heave, where an ember light glowed from beneath the black sweater, reminding him of burning coals. Hypatia, a lecturer he met in the Ark’s library, said that this was a Draco’s ‘most intimate spot’, vaguely named so because hundreds of other historians never agreed upon a name and the majority of Draco-related records and testimonies disappeared along with the downfall of Victoria’s Draco clans. At least, public records were non-existent.

Then a certain Head Medic came to mind, who would probably press a sexual harassment charge if the Doctor stared at an intimate spot too long (in his defense, he was still clueless about the world), so the Doctor stared back into Reed’s eyes. The Draco remained jumpy, lips quivering. Was she going to say something? Maybe another “Stay away!”?

Before anyone could act though, the Doctor’s radio buzzed. Reed jumped as the tactician quickly answered it.

“Doctor,” said a measured voice, “Plume has noticed you were missing. Has something happened?”

“Silence! No, nothing to worry about! I am with Miss Reed.”

“And… may I ask what the both of you are doing?"

“I’m just taking one last look around. I think I see a meat bun stand I visited while I was in Lungmen.

“…”

“Sorry, I was just looking around with Miss Reed.”

There was a tired huff of breath, then Silence replied, “Doctor, please do not linger any longer and trouble our Operators, the ones waiting here included. Plume has your location and is headed your way.”

The call ended.

“Phew,” the Doctor breathed.

“Ah…”

The Doctor turned to the sound. In front of him, Reed looked back. There was no feeling of wariness coming off her now. Still, she seemed to grow smaller as the Doctor drew his gaze on her.

The tactician rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Um… Miss Reed? I’m only here to get you. We’re going back now.”

“Yes. My apologies.” Even her voice sounded small, overly plain. “I… I have no excuses.”

“I don’t need to hear one. But, do you want to… stay around a little longer? We have to go back soon, though.”

“No!” she suddenly exclaimed. Then she put a hand over her mouth and repeated, quieter, “No, I mean, I was only…!” She hesitated before she shook her head. “We… We must go back now.”

“…Okay. Let’s go.”

The Doctor moved. He heard shuffling behind him, then a hesitant pace of heels clacking on asphalt. The Doctor took a few steps when he heard Reed say, “Doctor…” and made him turn back to look at the lone woman, her head bowed.

“Yes?” the Doctor asked evenly.

“I am sorry. Making a commander retrieve his own subordinate is… shameful misconduct.”

“Like I said, I don’t need excuses, or apologies here. I’m only glad everyone is safe. And it’s not like finding you is that bad for me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you so… Why did you make it sound like you were the one who took me along when I was the one who caused the problem?”

“Because you looked sad. I thought you didn’t need any more problems. At least, that is what I think I can do for you, here and now. We need good days for the bad, after all.”

Reed’s head shot up. Her eyes were wide, more than she had when they first met as commander and fighter.

“Miss Reed, I see Plume coming.” The Doctor waved a hand at the Liberi breaking into a sprint. “Let’s hurry back home, get scolded a little, and not make everyone else worry more.”

When the squad came back, Kal’tsit gave the Doctor a brief talking-to before sparing a glance for the Draco who was supposedly dragged along for sightseeing.

Reed was looking at him the whole time.

The next time they met was in an empty room days later, in the same sector the Doctor’s office was in. It was a slightly dusty room, one of many forgotten places in the Ark since Rhodes Island had not the manpower to for every area.

Reed was sitting on a cushion, on the floor, in front of a low table. The Draco herself jumped in surprise when the door opened, knees bucking up against the table. The Doctor saw a fork, a box, reddish-brown chunks of meat and broccoli, and the table, all float in the air for a split second.

Then it all went down with a loud bang. The fork clattered on the table in the silence as tactician and dragon looked at each other once again. The Doctor coughed.

“Miss Reed, hello again,” he said. “Uh… I’ll leave—”

“No!” the Draco shouted. The conversation stalled until the Draco continued, timidly, “I-I mean, I can leave and eat elsewhere.”

“You don’t have to do that! Do you mind if I sit with you instead?”

Reed shook her head in silence, looking at her box. He sat down and placed a tote bag on the table, then a cushion of his own on the floor, opposite of Reed.

The Doctor brought out a black box and a canteen from the bag. He opened them. Inside the canteen was steaming bright brown soup of bacon and onions, while the box had rice, fish, greens, carrots… and…

The Doctor’s fork stabbed into something charred black and stick thin that looked suspiciously like a worm. The hooded man shifted his mask up, exposing a smooth, pale jaw and his mouth—no particular extremities like fangs or scales showed. He ate the black thing with a crunch like it was any other potato fry. Reed stared and wondered if she it was just a unique type of sausage.

“Oh, do you want to try one?” offered the Doctor.

“Ah, no,” Reed reflexively replied.

“Alright.”

…

Anxiety surged through the Draco. Her reply was so brief! Did the Doctor feel offended? No, perhaps she was just exaggerating such a line of thinking. The Doctor did not look like the kind who would be petty, quiet as he was being now. Besides, she was used to being at a distance from others. It would be for the best. Whether it made her distant from this stranger should be of no concern.

Then what makes him different?

The aloof Draco turned a little, just enough to peek at her lunch-mate, a first in months. The Doctor ate his lunch at a calm pace, choosing what he ate in no particular order and yet clearly relishing every bite. It was odd table manners that would not look out of place at a pub or a high-end restaurant.

He paused, though, and looked at her. Reed glanced away, feeling the gaze behind his mask. What was he going to say? Did he notice her looking—?

“Is something wrong with your food?” he asked.

Reed wondered what he meant before realizing she was not eating. She stiffened, then tried to curl into a smaller lump of herself when she heard the Doctor chuckle.

On one sleepless night, Reed stayed up in her room.

Once upon a time, there was a dragon who saw much—committed too much. So its shadow would rear its head, perhaps making a more ordinary Reed wake up clawing the air or gasping into her pillow (not that anyone would have heard, alone in a soundproofed room and in a dormitory for ‘introverts’, though she fearfully tried to keep the noise to herself), then go back to sleep, dreaming of a thankful blackness before her eyes. Just nothing. That was all she hoped for.

But now, she had a guest.

The Doctor looked around her room and set a stack of books down on her desk. “It feels kind of… quaint, here. And I don’t mean anything bad by that!” he added when he saw Reed start to look down. “I haven’t been to a lot of the other Islanders’ rooms before, but this room feels a little too large, somehow.”

“Large…?” asked Reed.

“There’s not a lot of things I see here. I haven’t been to a lot of private rooms, but when I see all this space I wonder what could have been there.”

That was obvious. The cabin was averagely sized for one person to walk about and store things in it. Like most cabins by default, Reed’s cabin had a bed in a corner, a desk beside the bed, and a wardrobe next. Only six, thick books filled a bookcase beside the wardrobe; Reed perused the library for more. On the opposite wall to all this furniture was a weapon locker, where her spear was kept. Other than grey carpeted flooring and plain concrete walls, it was plain and undecorated.

“I had no need for much else,” said Reed. “I am fine with myself if need be.”

“You have books,” the Doctor pointed out.

“Yes…”

“And nothing else?”

“No, I didn’t really…”

There was a time where a dragon desired more. But that was then. How could she bear to bring such desires back to the present?

The Doctor held up a book. “Can I sit on the bed?”

Reed nodded and sat next to him, tail curling out of his way. “So you wanted my opinion on what books would be suitable for children?” she recalled the Doctor’s email.

“I was going to sort out the kinds of short books I had according to age and genre, but yes. Ifrit had been asking me if I had more fairy tales, and I wanted to share some with the other Operators.”

“I… do not think I would be so suitable for this. I read mature stories, in a manner of speaking. The only few fairy tales… no, I shouldn’t.”

“That’s my point. You have a sense for what can be complex, or what can be really sad. Therefore, you would be aware of what seems most like a fairy tale. I read a lot, but I don’t have memories of… who I was back then.” The Doctor hung his head for a moment, quiet. “This may be intrusive for you, but I’m a beginner compared to people like you. I need your help. I would really appreciate if you could tell me more about stories, and for those who didn’t have the chance to know more stories like Ifrit.”

Reed went still. The Doctor kept his eyes on the Draco.

Stories. They tell about many things, varying in length, plot, genre, writer and whatnot. However, there were many, many books that they were not unlike people: too many to matter in the grand scheme of the world, as everything should be in reality. And yet…

Reeds do not stand out. But even they still have their uses.

“…Can we start with what you have in your hands?” the Draco finally offered.

Even with his mask on, Reed could tell the Doctor’s face brightened.

“…”

“…”

On any other day, sitting together, they might have read something, chatted, or simply did nothing, enjoying each other’s presence as they were. But they were supposed to be at work.

“Reed…?”

“Your work ethic is too unhealthy. Forgive me for this.”

That was her reason her tail was tying the Doctor down this time. Any other Operator would have made the same observation; Saria herself did once and told him off. A few were this forceful in making him rest like Reed was doing. Actually, it was incredibly uncharacteristic of Reed to even make physical contact with anyone.

“How long do we have to stay like this?” inquired the Doctor.

Reed’s burning tail end flickered for a moment. “Ah… perhaps half an hour.”

“Hey, that’s a little too much now, isn’t it? It’s already been half an hour since you’ve held me down.”

“Even so, Doctor… even if this makes you hate me…”

“Let’s not go that far! You’re worried for my health, but you understand I still have to go back to doing my office work.”

“Doctor, after this, you have to conduct a patrol of the Ark.”

“Yes. It’s just a voluntary patrol, but there’s nothing strange about that.”

“You will most likely be beset by something that would take hours to resolve, if not the rest of today.”

“Uh…”

That was undeniable. In the past, it was just the Doctor walking around the Ark, and, other than a few noteworthy events, nothing else particularly serious happened in those times. But these days, it would be barely ten minutes of walking before Mayer begged for a room expansion, or Elysium invited him on an adventure of the Ark’s darkest sectors with Closure’s approval, or stopping Executor from placing landmines, or Savage and Cuora dragged him into a race…

Reed’s eyes peeked from over her book at the Doctor in an almost dismayed way. “It is you after all. It is not surprising that you would gather so much attention…”

“Um…?”

“Regardless, please stay with… stay here and rest for the time being.”

Then the office’s door opened.

“Yo! Leader, here’s Penguin’s usual delivery report!”

“Doctor… ah.”

Exusiai the Sankta skipped into the office. Following her was a blonde, stoic woman named Siege, an Aslan (a race patterned after lions) from Victoria. Like the street punkish Glasgow Gang she led, Siege was dressed in a black, furred jacket, tank top, and hot pants. Despite the slightly droopy look she had in her eyes, a commanding gaze pierced those she laid her eyes on.

But the lioness stopped in her tracks when she saw Reed. Exusiai, though, did not notice and whistled.

“Oh-ho! Guessing the Doctor’s overworking like usual too, Miss Dragon?”

Reed bowed her head awkwardly. “Ah, yes.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! I won’t bite about this! Keep up the good work.”

Since Exusiai often came to the Doctor’s office, it was inevitable that Reed was exposed to the Sankta’s radiant disposition. The Doctor was not sure how things led to it, but Reed offered Exusiai a book recommendation one day. As far as the angel and the tactical advisor were concerned, that was a victory.

“Exusiai, can you please help me convince her…”

“Nope~ It’s for your own good, Leader! We don’t want a repeat of the Collapse of February, don’t we?”

“It was one time.”

“But I’d bet you fell asleep in lots of places none of us saw.”

“Eh…” The Doctor coughed and turned to Siege, who was still standing. “Anyway, Siege, is there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Hey, don’t change the subject!”

“Nothing important in particular,” Siege replied. “I was thinking of resting in your office, is all.”

“Oh, as I said before, feel free. But, it might not be so quiet here.”

Exusiai did a mock frown. “Hey, I do not like the way you looked at me when you said that! I’m only here to drop off work stuff.”

As Exusiai and the Doctor started to talk over the report, the Doctor felt the tail wound around him tighten. Both of them glanced at the Draco beside them. She was still looking at her book, but both of them could see her pursed lips.

“Uh… maybe later, Exusiai.”

“Yep yep. Texas gotta lot of competition.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing! Be seeing you later, Leader!”

Then the angel left. Siege let out an amused breath.

“A bright girl, that one,” remarked Siege.

“That’s one of her best points,” the Doctor agreed.

“Why ‘Leader’?”

“Um… huh. I don’t think I’ve ever asked her about that. I guess because I’m the one in charge of tactics and all.”

“You’re much more than a tactician, Doctor. Anyone on this ship would say so. Why else would they believe in you so?”

“I guess…? It’s not like I’m the CEO, or the one who actually sets rules or anything.”

“And that you were only picked up, and simply started doing things as you were told?” The Doctor nodded. “It doesn’t change the fact that there are people following you now. They believe in your ideas, your plans.”

“Yes. They trust you. That worries me much.”

Reed spoke up, interjecting into the conversation with a soft close of her book. The Doctor felt her tail unwind itself from him, dragging warmth beneath the scales away with it. She looked at the Doctor with a sad gaze, far deeper than usual.

“The mantle of such responsibilities is more than you think,” Reed continued. “There were… people I know. They did not live past such lives. As Rhodes Island grows, you, Doctor, may… want to…”

She trailed off, faltering, and stood up. Siege gazed at the other Vanguard quietly. The Doctor, confused, tried to say something.

“Reed—”

“I misspoke. My apologies, Doctor. It is lunch time. I will get the boxes.”

Reed did not ask what set the Doctor would want and left. Both the tactician and Siege stared at the door.

The Doctor rose from his seat, confused. What was that about? This was the first time she acted that way.

“I said that I did not know her, didn’t I?’ Siege finally spoke.

“You did say that.”

“I still don’t. Perhaps someone… Never mind. My point is that people follow you. As Miss Reed said, they trust you. Do you know that?”

“…Yes.”

“Does she trust you?”

The Doctor gave Siege a glance. The Aslan was looking intently at him now. While she was one to wear her heart on her sleeves when it counted, it did not happen that often. Maybe this was an example of trust she wanted to show him.

Just like how it usually was between him and Reed. The books they read, the lunches they shared, the lack of questions from Reed in any mission—and the rare times she did ask when she normally kept to herself. That Reed simply talked to him.

“I can’t say yet,” said the Doctor. Siege’s eyebrows knitted themselves, but the Doctor continued to speak, “I do know that Reed can smile, though. I would like to know how to keep on doing that, just as I would better myself for you, Siege.”

The Aslan raised her eyebrows. Then, she was smiling.

“I told you, my name is Vina,” she corrected.

“Huh?”

“Vina. Veer-nah. Call me by my real name the next time we’re alone. Don’t make me remind you again.”

“A-Ah, sure…”

Siege stared at him.

“Sure, Vina.”

Siege smiled.

“Anyway, I’m sorry, but I better look for Reed.”

“I would never begrudge you for that.”

He walked out. Though, from where Siege sat, she could not help but look at his determined back. What was it that Draco said? A mantle of responsibilities.

“Or a mantle fit for a king, perhaps,” Siege mused.

The Doctor was running out of the cafeteria not long after asking around about a Draco woman. Going by what an Operator said and singling out quieter paths leading to his office, he saw a Draco walk rigidly down a corridor.

“Reed!” the Doctor called out after a panted breath.

The Draco flinched. In her hand was a tote bag, likely containing their food. Then she started to walk away from the Doctor.

“Reed… just because I trust you and you trust me doesn’t mean sharing secrets has to be a condition,” he said.

Reed stopped in her tracks.

“I’m fine if things between us have to be slow. I want to know more about you, but I don’t believe in having to make sacrifices we don’t want. I’d rather we work through our issues together rather than act so distantly.”

Reed’s tail-flame flickered.

“Unless, you want to be left alone?”

“No!”

The lone woman spun around with a cry and faced the Doctor. She took a breath. She opened her mouth, closed it, and deliberated for a second. Her hand holding onto the bag tightened.

The Doctor waited. In the end, Reed murmured, “I… am sorry.”

“What for?” asked the Doctor.

“I was grateful for your presence. I thought I would never trust in anyone so deeply after what I have done until you came into my life. But now, I find myself wondering if our meeting should never have come to be. I…”

“Hold on.” The Doctor gestured to a sliding door. “Over here. Let’s take this outside.”

While the Ark was a landship designed for mining, and would thus necessitate an organized architecture to accompany an efficient workforce, it had numerous spaces well out of the purview of the central R.I.I.C. area. The side deck they came out on was more like a balcony, jutting from underneath the Ark’s side and fitted with a metal railing. The sun in the distance was starting to dip into the hills on the horizon. There, the Doctor saw a towering row of hazy, blocky figures.

“That’s Lungmen,” pointed out the Doctor, putting a hand on the railing. “The Ark is separated from it right now by those hills. In about three days, maybe two, we’ll be there. And… we’ll have to face Reunion again. At least I’ll see the girls at the L.G.D. again. The current Operators in Lungmen say we’ll have new Operators.”

“You would… be working with the L.G.D.?” Reed asked hesitantly. “In person at their headquarters, I mean.”

“Not all the time. For the first few days, yes, but I’ll be staying at the Ark after. I’ll have to go out for missions, though.”

“…Mm.”

“So, what were you going to say?”

“…I would bring danger to you. I have secrets.”

The Doctor stared at the sunset. “It’s a common phrase, here at Rhodes Island. ‘I can’t tell you this.’ ‘You wouldn’t see me the same if you knew.’ ‘For higher ears only.’ Secrets are there for a reason, but honestly, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t frustrated to hear that all the time. I want to know. I want to let people trust me. I don’t want people to feel guilty about what they carry.”

Reed lowered her gaze. Her tail went slack against the floor. Even the fire at the tip seemed to dim. Faced with those words, how would a pile of secrets even stay with the Doctor?

“Yet, that’s not what matters.” The Doctor looked at Reed and took off his mask. “I have to make this clear. Reed, as I said, you don’t have to say everything. The pain I see in you is important.”

The Draco started to glance the Doctor’s way.

“You don’t have to feel obliged. You don’t need to share everything with me. You have a right to your past.”

She saw.

“I never asked you this, did I? That is why, here in the present, I ask of you…”

Reed looked at the Doctor in the eye, and she…

“…will you help me, and let me help you?”

Once upon a time, dragons threatened to burn everything in their way. One of these great dragons saw their deeds for what they were and beheld its terrible glory. Ages later, that dragon transformed into a reed and shored itself to an island. It was content to stay worthless until it saw a light.

It attracted the eye. Neither was it the glint of gold, nor could it have been a secret to move the world. Regardless, it found it to be precious.

It attracted the eye very much so, more than any treasure in the world could have ever done. Others would lay claim to it. That was why it swore to breath a fire it once loathed so much, for it will fight for this treasure.

Her embers will light the way.

Chapter Text

Great Lungmen was a name to remember in the recent economic times of Terra. Take the city itself for an example—high-rise buildings spangled with lights stood against the night sky, most of which were dedicated to thriving businesses that potentially span countries. Below them, districts thrived and crowds flowed like a well-oiled machine, peaceful in the way things were as they should be.

This was the view the masked Doctor saw, standing before floor-to-ceiling glass from high up on the ninth and highest floor of Wei Yenwu’s personal building, known to many as the Executive’s Tower. It could be from here that the Lung entertained his guests simply by having them stay a moment in the reception room, gazing upon a creation ruled over by the same man they were about to meet. Still, guests were noted only to ever be in this room if Lungmen’s Chief Executive wanted something from them.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the double set of doors into the room before they opened.

Superintendent Ch’en, a crimson-eyed Lung with blue hair styled in low twintails and brown pointed horns, put her hands behind her back and stood steady in the open doorway. She was dressed in her usual uniform: an open black jacket, orange tie over a white dress shirt, shorts, padded knee-guards, and shoes. A slender tail hung from her rear, and more prominently, two single-edged sheathed swords; one was plain steel, the other blood red.

“Ch’en!” the Doctor greeted her happily. “It’s finally good to see…”

He stopped when the Lung raised an open hand. Moreover, she did not directly look at his eyes.

“Princess Fumizuki is ready to meet you now,” the Superintendent announced, all business, no familiarity.

“Ch’en…?”

“The Princess awaits you in a meeting room. I will guide you there.”

“…We’re coming,” he replied, pushing down countless questions in his mind. “Plume?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

A brunette Liberi wearing a beret and a dress-like uniform in grey and black marched over from where she had been standing by the doors, halberd resting up against her left arm. Her right side bore a black capelet reinforced by straps, and from her left shoulder trailed a massive wing of feathers. She took a spot on the rear left of the Doctor, amber eyes up as the two followed Ch’en out of the room and into a red carpeted hallway.

The wall to their left was decorated by either an ink scroll or a bright painting that showed up at regular intervals. To their right were pairs of doors that led into meeting rooms separate from Wei Yenwu’s personal office. More importantly, in front of them was a dragon lady that kept too quiet, even for someone who used to be at odds with complete strangers.

“Superintendent?” the Doctor asked while they walked.

“You may ask a question, sir,” she replied.

“I didn’t ask earlier, but Miss Fumizuki wanted to see me specifically for a matter. Would it be bad for Plume to be with us?”

Ch’en shook her head. “Princess Fumizuki intends for this meeting to be a reception without reservation for Rhodes Island’s representative in place of the Chief Executive. I am not privy to any other details.”

“So not even L.G.D.’s Superintendent knows?”

“Please refrain from asking unrelated questions.”

In the corner of the Doctor’s eye, Plume’s eyes narrowed. Thankfully, no further incident happened until they stopped at one set of doors. Ch’en knocked on them. After hearing a woman’s faint “Come in!”, the guardswoman opened the doors.

Inside the spacious meeting room was a long table with high-backed chairs to their left. A ring of couches surrounded a table on the right, next to an open window that was curtained. Sitting on one couch facing the doors was another Lung, only, in place of skin was lavender and white fur, in place of a nose was a pointed snout, and in place of flat ears were larger floppy ones; bestial-looking than most Ancient Races the Doctor met, for lack of a better word. Otherwise, she was a short and slender humanoid, clothed in a black jacket over a chrysanthemum-patterned kimono, adorned by a strange red rope knot hung over her chest. A single, curved, magenta horn stood out from her forehead.

The woman smiled at them, which was more of a grin that revealed a row of little razor-sharp triangular teeth. “Superintendent, Miss Plume of Rhodes Island,” she greeted. “And I believe we have met before… Doctor.”

“Before?” asked the Doctor.

“Yes,” said the woman. For a moment, her eyes, the same shade as her horn, softened. “Perhaps… after you left my husband’s office?”

“Oh, I think we only passed and greeted each other,” recalled the Doctor. “My bad for not remembering well.”

“…No, there is no need for apologies. It was just my question. Allow me to introduce myself.” She bowed in her seat. “I am Princess Wei Fumizuki, once of Higashi, now of Lungmen, and wife to Wei Yenwu. You may call me Fumizuki if you wish. Now, would you all sit?”

The Doctor seated himself facing his hostess. Ch’en positioned herself behind Fumizuki, and Plume did the same behind the Doctor.

The Lung princess frowned. “Ch’en, I also meant you as well. I don’t know about you, Miss Plume, but… what reliable guards we have, don’t we, Doctor?”

“We couldn’t have asked for better,” the Doctor concurred.

He heard Plume cough. Ch’en’s cheeks were red for a second.

“First of all, how was your trip here?” Fumizuki began the pleasantries.

“It was fine all the way. It was only four hours from the Ark to the city by car, and getting past inspection was only a few minutes. It’s a lot more encouraging to see the sectors damaged from Reunion’s attacks nearly back to the way they were before, besides the bigger buildings still in construction.”

“Lungmen has had quite a few incidents. Frankly, if that is all the Reunion Movement is capable of, they will never get past the L.G.D. and my husband.”

“But, you wanted to see me for something. That was what I came here earlier than the others for.”

Amiya certainly had not liked the prospect of letting the Doctor go ahead, but Kal’tsit encouraged it on the grounds it would deepen Rhodes’s relationship with a ‘more amiable’ member of Lungmen. That said, the Head Medic still reminded the Doctor that Fumizuki was still Wei Yenwu’s wife.

“Yes. In all seriousness,” Fumizuki said, her tone suddenly razor sharp, “Superintendent Ch’en, as the commanding officer of the defense of Lungmen against the Reunion Movement, you had the L.G.D. retreat from an operation in an abandoned city sector-turned-Reunion base of Chernobog, leaving Rhodes Island’s squad behind. Can you explain your actions?”

The Doctor stared as he took the question in. “If this is meant to be an official apology, then we don’t need to—”

“Doctor,” Fumizuki interrupted, “please let this conversation happen. You two may have already spoken over this before, but this will greatly affect Rhodes Island’s and Lungmen’s relationship in the foreseeable future.”

There was a momentary pause before Ch’en spoke up mechanically, “Lungmen was under attack by another Reunion attack force led by their leader, Skullshatterer, reinforced by sleeper cells and combat-type drones on rampages scattered throughout Lungmen. The invasion force had penetrated Lungmen territory significantly enough to risk L.G.D. Headquarters and other civilian sectors. As the commanding officer, I deemed the Rhodes Island squadron sufficient to hold position in the enemy territory.”

Fumizuki nodded. “Doctor, Rhodes Island submitted a report regarding your side of the mission. Were there truly no casualties or any other… problems?”

“There were no casualties,” the tactician verified. “We were able to resist the defending Reunion force and Yeti Squadron, and retreated safely once we gathered all the survivors we could find. However, all of our Operators involved in the mission were extremely displeased. It got worse once they heard Wei Yenwu’s plan—after it had concluded.”

“I apologize for the Chief Executive’s actions. How did Rhodes Island regard his plan?”

The Doctor glanced back. Plume appeared to be her attentive self, but he saw how her lips were pressed tight.

“They… felt like they were used,” he answered.

It had been a rainy day at the time. Dark clouds had formed from the smoke rising from all over Lungmen’s outer sectors where the invasion hit the hardest.

At five o’clock in the afternoon, Rhodes Island’s Operators took an abandoned shopping mall as their forward command center managing the defense of Lungmen. Inside a command tent where a handful of Operators and squad captains had gathered, the Doctor and Amiya relayed what they learnt from Wei Yenwu.

“So we were pretty much bait!?”

Blaze kicked an empty cardboard box out of the tent. It went sailing in the air and barreled into a bunch of manikins. They all tipped over with a loud crash.

Everyone in the tent looked at her. Blaze sheepishly went quiet.

“Everyone, I understand your frustrations,” said Amiya, “but we cannot afford to lose focus at this point in time. We are still under an agreement with Lungmen and require allies.”

“…Even so, could we still cooperate with the L.G.D. as allies after this?” questioned Fang, a blue-haired Kuranta Vanguard, and captain of Op Reserve Team A1. She and her team had been there at the abandoned city too.

Judging by the silence that followed, everyone had a similar sentiment. It was not helped that Lungmen made no secret of its discrimination against Infected.

“…Everyone, please,” Amiya roused them from their thoughts again. “We can think more on the matter at a later date. For now, do not relay this immediately to the others until we hold an official announcement. We still have both wounded and patients to tend to. Our base’s security must be held, and we must keep a lookout for any remaining Reunion members. Return to your posts.”

She turned to the tactician who had kept silent beside her. “Doctor? Do you have any suggestions?”

“Oh?” The Doctor looked back at her and everyone. “Oh, no, I think everything is under order that you won’t need my input. However, I want to personally head over to L.G.D.’s camp and check on them.”

Rhodes Island’s was camped in the western part of the mall, while the L.G.D. had the east. They were set right next to each other to further supplement their activities as a joint force. Walking over to their side would take only seconds. Several Operators had… before today.

Amiya frowned. “We already sent our own messengers in person for their status and received reports from them. Miss Hoshiguma and Miss Swire already gave their apologies in person.”

Except for Ch’en, who gave nothing, went unsaid. The Doctor felt the tension rise in the tent. The air around Blaze actually blurred for a moment.

“It still has to be done,” he insisted. “Hoshiguma and Swire are representative of the L.G.D., but I haven’t really heard much from their fellow officers. Besides, I’d like to see Ch’en’s thoughts on this in person.”

“You’d still trust them?”

Blaze was the one who spoke. She looked at the Doctor with a glint in her eyes, and he did not feel any of the friendliness she usually showed to other people.

“I still would,” he answered resolutely. “Ch’en was the one who gave the order. Her subordinates just followed, that’s all. I’d like to hear their thoughts while I still can before I get to the Superintendent herself… if I can find her.”

Blaze scoffed. “Weirdo.”

“Blaze!”

“It’s fine, Amiya. I’ll have Plume with me. I’ll be back by 9 o’clock at the latest. Everyone, just get back to your jobs and rest. You all did well to live.”

“That is a curious stance for an executive like you to take, Doctor,” said Fumizuki.

“L.G.D.’s officers may be masked a lot and follow orders all the time, but it doesn’t mean they can’t think for themselves,” he replied. “Two Special Inspectors and a Superintendent are not the entire L.G.D..”

“Then does it mean that instead of the L.G.D., you still have grievances against Superintendent Ch’en?”

The Doctor looked at Ch’en. She was staring past the Doctor, a statue.

Plume’s boots shifted on the carpet.

“Ch’en may have given the order to start with, but you don’t have to worry for me or her, madam. Before I get to her part, I’d like to repeat what some of her people thought.”

Ch’en’s tail shifted itself.

“Doctor, you want to visit the L.G.D. encampment?”

Plume brought up this question once the Doctor found her resting by a medical tent. She had been part of the forces dedicated to filling in gaps L.G.D. forces missed in their sweep of the city, and was otherwise unharmed.

“Yes,” the Doctor answered. “I want to hear more about the guards’ thoughts in person, particularly about… their retreat, and all this happening to Lungmen. If nothing else, I’d like to see Ch’en.”

“It—seems wise. I will ensure your safety.”

The Doctor thought Plume sounded hesitant. Still, he had people to talk to right now. The two went off without further talk and were by the entrance to the L.G.D. camp.

Rhodes Island only occupied the ground floor given their lesser quantity in people and equipment; the L.G.D. had both part of the ground floor and the first floor above. A border of portable metre-high plated walls, spiked ramps pointed away from the walls to discourage enemy charges, and sandbags in between had been erected all around the ground floor camp and the inactive escalators leading up. The Doctor could not help but think of his camp’s defenses, which had a line of smaller walls to hide behind and vault over easily, outward patrols in teams of four, and no definite checkpoint other than a few designated paths to carry larger things through. L.G.D. looked better prepared for a small war.

The checkpoint, nothing more than a gap between the walls, was guarded by two L.G.D. guards, one with a tower shield, the other a crystal-topped staff that smelled of rain. Flanking the Defenders’ left and right from behind the walls was a crossbow-wielding guard standing on a platform. All four wore their department’s standard face-covering helmet and a padded uniform colored black and blue, save for some alterations to accommodate their racial traits.

“—just saw that Courier guy leave, Miss Taylin,” the Doctor heard the Defender on the right talk. “What do you think Rhodes thinks now… huh?” He—a Feline, judging by the slender and furry tail—raised a hand at the two visitors. “Doctor of Rhodes Island?” he asked, almost timidly.

The Doctor nodded. “Ah, hello. I think I remember seeing you on a joint mission. PC1…?”

“My identification code is PC17492, but people call me—”

“Guardsman Xiao Er,” said the other, a guardswoman. Pronged horns (not Vouivre. These looked like antlers?) poked through her helmet. Looking closely, underneath her helmet was something red, likely a hood. Messy blonde hair fell through the gaps, and a tail comparable to a Kuranta’s kept high above the dirty floor. “We have guests. An important guest.”

“My bad! First of all, Doctor, and Miss Operator, could you show your IDs?” The Doctor and Plume obligingly dug out their cards for ‘Xiao Er’ to look. “Okay… Not Infected. Everything seems in order.”

“…I didn’t realize L.G.D. problems with Infected,” the Doctor pointed out. “I remember seeing some Operators mingling with the—”

The guardswoman's hand immediately seized Xiao Er’s head and made him bow alongside herself. The Feline guard—and the Doctor—was confused.

“H-Hey, Miss Taylin, what—?” Xiao Er started to say.

“Our deepest apologies!” she spoke rapidly. “We did not mean to offend you or Rhodes Island! It would earn our deepest gratitudes if you would overlook the insult!”

“What… no, no, I don’t mean to insinuate anything!” The Doctor wildly waved his hands. “I did not see his words as an insult! Please raise your head.”

“I…”

“Shut your mouth you fool.” Both Xiao Er and Taylin stood back up. “Ahem… our apologies, and our deepest thanks, sir. I will call Inspector Hoshiguma straightaway.” The guardswoman took out a small electronic tablet and pressed a few things on the interface.

“Hoshiguma? I thought Ch… Madam Ch’en was in charge,” said the Doctor.

“Madam Ch’en is reporting to Chief Executive Wei as we speak,” reported Xiao Er. “She should be back within the hour. For the time being, Inspector Hoshiguma is in charge, who should be able to let you in. May I… ask the reason for your visit, sir?”

“To check on you and your officers.”

“…To check?”

It must have sounded strange, the Doctor admitted. “Yes. I was wondering how you all were holding up after all this, and… that retreat from the city.”

“…”

The two were silent and only exchanged glances with each other. Then Xiao Er spoke up.

“Sir…”

“Guard!”

“Miss Taylin, I have to… I think I should say something.”

“Hey, kid, don’t stir things up, least of all with our… allies.”

It was one of the bow-guards standing behind the wall. A Sankta. He was looking in the direction of the Rhodes Island camp with a gaze the Doctor could only describe as… loathing.

Xiao Er looked at him. “But I…”

“Hold on.” The Doctor raised a hand. “Can I know what you have to say? You look like a child, the kind that gets guilty over stealing a cookie without his mother knowing.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment as they took in the joke.

“It was… in a picture book I read.”

They were silent for longer.

“Don’t… worry? You won’t get spanked or punished or anything. Not by Madam Ch’en. Or Hoshiguma, or Swire, or your jumpy partner”—Taylin made an outraged noise at that—“or that rude friend of yours up there.” The Sankta guard stared at him. “Promise.”

Xiao Er chuckled, then he was laughing. “Ahah… Rhodes Island is really carefree.”

The Doctor tilted his head awkwardly. “I wouldn’t say that about everyone in that organization. So, what did you want to say?”

“I’m sorry on part of the L.G.D. that Rhodes Island was abandoned. I can’t really speak for everyone, much less myself—I mean, I get in trouble for my big mouth a lot and just now I threw around the I-word like being Infected wasn’t a big deal—which I don’t mean to offend with!”

“No, you should not worry. I appreciate your honesty.”

“I mean to say, I’m sorry not just for what happened days ago, but that Rhodes Island gets treated badly this way. I met some of your Operators, sir. They seem nice. It must be really lively… and maybe messy being around them.”

Ah, yes, no one in Lungmen had heard about the Doctor’s amnesia. He could not really reply to that with ‘I only just met them like three weeks ago and haven’t even seen a quarter of their entire roster.’ So he just said, “They’re people, Oripathy or not.”

“That’s right, and I’d be hanging up my shield before I hear a word about our people dissing Rhodes. They’re true warriors, you hear!”

Everyone started at the grinning turquoise-haired, single-horned Oni that towered over all of them as she came up from behind the checkpoint. She was dressed in black; large chestplate, sleeveless shirt, baggy short pants, and a jacket tied over her waist. She wielded a triangular spinning shield in one of her gloves hands, large enough to dwarf her in width and reached up to her waist. On its front, a metal visage scowled at them in perpetual anger.

Inspector Hoshiguma had always greeted everyone with either a steady gaze or an uplifting grin like now, at least from what the Doctor saw, but this time, her bright yellow eyes had some kind of similar aura to the mask on her shield, as if she would snap in the next moment.

“Doctor, I heard from… Miss Taylin here about you coming,” said Hoshiguma. “You, ahem, had complaints?”

“It’s not really complaints so much as wanting to hear what everyone here—and I mean your officers in this camp—has to say about… what happened.”

The Oni’s mouth pressed into a stiff line. “The L.G.D.’s retreat order, and Wei Yenwu’s plan.”

“Yes, those.”

“Hm. I don’t believe there is any stipulation against that, and besides, the joint agreement is looking hazy after this mess. Come on in, Doctor, and Miss Operator. Plume, was it?”

“Yes. Vanguard Operator Plume, and current bodyguard to the Doctor.”

The two went inside the camp without further incident. On the ground floor of the mall, large light posts lit the place underneath the ceiling and its dysfunctional lights. Looking around, more L.G.D. officers milled around, or were at work, be it on sentry duty, running logistics, or performing equipment maintenance. Yet…

“It feels rather quiet here,” the Doctor remarked.

“Discipline,” Hoshiguma replied simply. “We’re still in the middle of cleanup, and L.G.D.’s got a reputation to hold as the reliable guardians of Lungmen. In my opinion, Rhodes Island is pretty lively by contrast. It took quite a few of our people here by surprise when they saw the Operators in action.”

“Yes, they can be incredibly quirky. As far as I know, Rhodes Island is meant to let people live freely as possible.”

“…If only some guys here would do the same.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing but unimportant thoughts, sir. Here, we’re by the command tent, which is this one, and past here are the temporary barracks.” Hoshiguma gestured to the large tents a few steps ahead of them. “We can’t let you inside to prevent the release of confidential information, but this is where most officers are concentrated. Now, could you tell me how you meant to ‘hear them out’?”

The Doctor looked around where they were now. There were a few spots where people gathered. Cooking stations distributed meals now that it was dinnertime. Guards warmed around burners that stood in for campfires. Smaller groups hung around spots, talking secretively amongst themselves.

It was like a hush had draped itself over the camp. The Doctor thought it was intensified when he saw a few people glancing at him. More and more attention was growing on them.

Plume stepped closer to him; she must have noticed the attention too and felt wary. The tactician did not see her expression change, but that one movement spoke enough.

“It’s fine, Plume,” he told her. “First of all Inspector, do I have permission to… talk… to these people?”

“Permission granted, guaranteed by this member of the Special Inspection Unit.” Hoshiguma grinned and rapped a fist on her chestplate. “And for the time being, I’ll accompany you.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“Uh… I’ve got free time until the next deployment, which is tomorrow. You don’t have to worry about it. Now tell me what you have in mind.”

The smell of fried meat and salty sauces in the air made the Doctor think he should go out to eat in Lungmen some time. Then his gurgling stomach made his current thoughts loud and clear to everyone hearing.

“Eheh… do you mind if we had something to eat?”

Ch’en muttered something quick and dark under her breath.

“Ch’en, what was that you said?”

“…I did not appreciate her insubordination at the time, however minor it seemed.”

“It’s in the past now, so do try not to be resentful of her. Besides, she had already been through so much work on the battlefield. Her, ah, self-imposed free time would be well-deserved. At any rate, Doctor, you started by talking to the guards taking their dinner? Speaking of which, have you had dinner yet?”

“Oh, no, not yet.”

“Now that won’t do. ShiraYuki?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Wah!”

An Anaty suddenly stood up from beside Fumizuki’s couch, as though she had stepped out of thin air. Her short, snow-white hair and electric blue eye clashed greatly with her pitch black garbs, yet she still hid her presence from the Doctor, and judging by the way Plume’s eyes widened, the vigilant bodyguard did not either.

Fumizuki waved a hand. “Do not be afraid, Doctor. ShiraYuki is my most loyal and trusted shinobi guard. In fact, she is the other matter I have come to discuss with you.” The Anaty’s eye darted towards her mistress for a moment before going back to watching the Doctor at Fumizuki’s words; the Doctor thought it was surprise. “We have chefs here that can cater to most cuisines, though they do specialize in Lungmen’s style. ShiraYuki will send word at whatever dish you wish for.”

“Any food and drink?”

“Anything you desire. Although a buffet is, shamefully, out of our chefs’ capabilities at this time.” The Lung mock-woefully shook her head.

The Doctor decided he liked Fumizuki. “I’m not that hungry, unless you are?”

“Not at all.”

“Then we’ll go with what I ate that day: chow mein.”

The Doctor now sat on a bench by the burner and lifted up his mask, enough to expose his mouth. He picked up a pair of chopsticks and drew up a bundle of noodles inside a throwaway styrofoam box, spotting tiny sticks of carrots and shreds of brown meat within. Spices assaulted his nose in a way more prominent than that of the set meals served at the Ark. He ate it and swallowed.

“Your verdict, sir?” asked the nervous-sounding chef who stood by the serving table. The other guards around the burner similarly watched for his reaction.

“…I do not know.”

“Huh? What do you mean? Don’t tell me Hua-ye (花夜) actually added flowers into his cooking,” another guard groused.

That provoked laughter—and Lungmen slang from Hua-ye.

“Oh no, I can say it is good. It is salty, it tastes maybe familiar, there are lots spices I haven’t the slightest clue about…”

The guards gave the Doctor odd looks. Then Hua-ye broke the silence.

“Is this your first time eating Lungmen food, Doctor? Is it good?”

“It is my first time, but yes, this tastes nice.” The chef seemed to deflate with relief at his answer. “Maybe I should see what the restaurants in the city have to offer once I can.”

“So the day someone actually compliments Hua-ye’s cooking has come!”

“Good on you, apprentice cook.”

“Ha!” Hoshiguma herself spoke on the same bench as the Doctor, slurping up noodles from her own bowl like she was drinking. “No offense to our rising cook here, but I thought you were going to try the other food stations, Doctor. Hua-ye isn’t exactly there yet. You’re lucky that it wasn’t rations as usual.”

As it turned out, the L.G.D. had decided that tonight was a good night to celebrate a little by expanding their menu. Six stalls were lined up together where the guards lined up for a rare but free choice of dinner. Five stalls had been crowded, except for one that had barely any guards. People had complained about the overpowering smell.

“I was curious about all the spices being thrown around. I have a friend who deals in perfumes so I thought these noodles had something to do with that.” The Doctor ate a spoonful (or was it string-ful?). “That said, I do not know what is the stan— um, I have not tried many foods, but the spices feel heavy. It felt like I was breathing hot air… What is this red powder?”

Hua-ye sighed. “Red pepper, grounded. I thought spiciness is key in Lungmen cuisine.”

“Kid, it’s not like trying to breath fire is all there is to Lungmen,” Hoshiguma chided. “How about this? I’ll take you and the Doctor here out for the best chow mein I’ve known.”

“Eh…? What about us, ma’am?”

“We’d all be sitting here way into the night if we all talked about our best places or how your mom’s cooking is best. And knowing you guys, you’d be trying to put it on my tab.”

Everyone had a laugh at that. The Doctor had to smile at this scene, which Hoshiguma noticed.

“So you can smile, huh?”

“Me?” The Doctor nearly touched his mouth. “What about it?”

“All of us thought you were some kind of robot, no offense. Who was it that started a bet about that?”

“Here, ma’am! It got cancelled when the Superintendent found out, and thank Yan for that! Nearly everyone betted on the Doctor being a robot.”

“Really guys. No wonder you all complain about your pay.”

Another round of laughs and chatter came. The Doctor looked to the one person who had hardly shared the atmosphere.

“Plume, how is the food?” he asked.

The Liberi fiddled with her pair of chopsticks. “Ah, it is not an issue, Doctor,” she tried to reassure him. “I just… have never interacted with Yan cutlery before in Laterano.”

“Mm… try stirring and rolling the noodles up like you’re knitting. Here.” The Doctor demonstrated it, catching strands and bundling them into a rough yarn. “The meat and the carrots can be pierced with the sticks instead.”

“Is… Is that so? But wouldn’t that be rude to… Lungmenite culture?”

“Don’t mind us Lungmenites, girl! You got food in front of you, so eat however you want!” Hoshiguma made her own yarn of noodles and ate it. “Hm… mm… Yeah, that’s an interesting way of eating. Do you sew, Doctor?”

The Doctor looked at the sticks. Obviously, he did. So did--

“I do not think so. Amiya might know more.”

The chatter quieted. The cheer disappeared. Hua-ye busied himself with a pot—cursing when black smoke started coming out of it.

“Oh, uh, Miss Amiya is the CEO of Rhodes Island, right? A girl that young?”

“A Cautus. Their looks can deceive, and Cautus tend to age faster, or so I hear.”

“Yeah.”

The guards seemed to… shut up? Those were not accurate words. It was as if whatever dregs of niceties left got sucked out of the air and was somewhere far away, deep in a hole plugged by something unspoken. If that hole were to be unplugged, then that air of cheer may return.

It was just that something else might come along mixed in it.

Hoshiguma seemed to sense this. She adopted a straighter posture and said, “Doctor, let’s call what I want to say as my personal thoughts. Uh… say, how long have you been with Rhodes Island?”

Everyone’s eyes were back on the Doctor. Right. He wanted to ask this. The preamble of chatting and bonding over dinner was eventually going to lead to this.

Was taking away what could have been a fun night right? Was it worth asking this kind of question? The Doctor’s mind raced for an answer.

“I have not been with them for long. Less than a month, I think. Three weeks?”

“Three… weeks? That short?”

“Yes.”

Including the week in Chernobog, but that was a long story for another time.

“And it may not be a long time, but it was enough for me to know they are nice people.” The Doctor looked around and met everyone’s eyes. Some still had masks on. Some turned away like his gaze burned. “I have not been all around the world to know what Infected do and how they get treated. I do not think of myself as particularly knowledgeable, so I can only ask this.

“Did you betray Rhodes Island?”

More silence. People shuffled uncomfortably. Hoshiguma let out a sigh and stared into the burner. Plume stopped eating. For a moment, the Doctor thought he would thrown out of this camp, joint agreement or not.

Then someone answered.

“That’s right. We did. But so what? They’re Infected to start with. It’s better to keep from each other.”

He was a Feline guard who had his helmet off. In his slitted eyes were a disdain the Doctor could not describe.

“What is your name, sir?” asked the Doctor.

“Yang'er. You seem like a good person. Uninfected?”

“I am Uninfected.”

“Then don’t hang around them. There’s a reason everyone hates Infected, and I’ve seen Uninfected hang around those so-called buddies until they’re wasting away into piles of rock too.”

“Yang'er, what the heck!?” That one came from another guard beside him. “You can’t just—”

“My sister got the disease that way and died for it,” another guard spat. “Infected kidnappers; they had her shoved next to a pile of Originium corpses. I—I’d say those people are a big danger for a reason.”

“Oripathy is nasty. That’s why we shouldn’t be mingling with Rhodes Island too much. They’re nice but better to save the trouble before stuff happens.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but—”

“I heard there's lots of lowlife among them…”

“They fought well, but they dive into those zones—”

It was like a dam being opened. Not all were venomous, not all were so blind to what they had been told about Infected, yet it was a torrent the Doctor could not see any Rhodes Islander liking.

But then—

“—I got a friend!”

The simmering chatter stopped. Everyone looked at the Feline woman who shouted. She quickly put down her raised hand, ears flattening in embarrassment. “I-I got a friend in Rhodes Island,” she still made herself say. “I have people telling me to stay away from Rhodes Island, but when one of their Medics showed up to heal me when I was downed, when she made sure to accompany me back to their hospital—how could I think of them as… as one of those monsters people make them out to be.”

“…Yin'er,” said Yang'er, a note of annoyance rising in his voice. “What in the world did I say?”

“I can’t help it if I see them as people unlike you heartless *Lungmen slang*! I keep… hearing words like that being thrown around. ‘That people’, ‘black freaks’, ‘witches’… I thought the L.G.D. was a force who would protect people. I thought we wouldn’t just turn our backs on allies. I thought Lungmen accepts all. I thought… wrong.”

Then she spoke in an overly sweet tone, “Gege (哥哥), that necklace I got you? I got it from the same friend I talked about earlier.”

The guard fell backwards off his seat, making some guards chuckle at the sight.

“…They are nice. Those people earlier told us we could keep a distance. How bad does that make us look? And you, why are you suddenly saying they’re bad and all? You wanted to pick up some girls among them, didn’t you?”

“I… I was just saying.”

“I wish we hadn’t retreated—we shouldn’t have to abandon allies, Infected or not.”

Now a new current was flowing in this argument. The Doctor… was not sure if he wanted it to continue when he saw a guard grab another by his collar.

“*Lungmen slang*! There’s some things that ought to be said and things that aren’t. Take that back what you said about that little girl!”

“I just said I can’t believe there’s Infected kids! The doctors said something about kids being more susceptible to diseases, so how’d she live that long? They don’t deserve to live as Infected. Why not put ‘em out of their misery?”

“You may as well just say they should just die!”

Fumizuki sipped her cup of green tea. “In other words, perhaps an understatement, opinions were divided in the L.G.D,” she summarized. “Doctor?”

“Yes?” The Doctor looked up from his bowl of noodles—and with respect to Hua-ye, the chow mein was on a different level. They had taken to eating at the longer table for convenience, Fumizuki and Ch’en seated opposite of the Doctor and Plume. (ShiraYuki was ominously standing by the windows, watching the Doctor’s back.)

“There are many things I want to say, not least of you inciting a brawl—”

“I am very sorry.”

“—so I wish to know why you were so confident that you would be able to hear out the officers. The L.G.D. is known for its strict adherence to rules, and none would simply break discipline to reveal controversial thoughts. Even with your status as not Infected, you are still associated with an organization of people that are.”

“I admit, it was a small chance of it working out, but they are people. I have seen them at work. What kind of security force does not think about the perpetrators and the victims? Most importantly, they do acknowledge Infected as people. I won’t say that the L.G.D. is a nice thing to happen to Infected, but they did not look away from them.”

“That is quite a low bar you set for the persecuted.”

“There is something there for the L.G.D. and Rhodes Island, just as it has been with Lungmen and its Infected still co-existing to this day. Ch’en, though… she did things about it in an honest way I didn’t expect from her at first.”

Ch’en’s eye twitched. The Doctor was enjoying getting reactions like that.

“Have the medics inspect those five idiots,” ordered Ch’en. “The rest of you are to keep silent and head back to your tents! Any further… discussion… of the Infected and Rhodes Island will see your salaries cut and a week on penal duty! Inspector, Doctor, Operator—if you would come with me into the command tent.”

The three troublemakers (Plume was more of an associate in this) followed Ch’en without another word. Hoshiguma grimaced.

“Madam—”

“What.”

“…If there’s anyone to blame, it should be me for letting the Doctor in.”

“No, I was the one who had the idea to start with!” the Doctor disagreed. “Madam Ch’en, please direct your blame—”

“I will hear out your thoughts in the tent, Doctor,” Ch’en said, drew aside a tent flap for them. Once the three were inside, Ch’en followed and closed the flap.

The inside of the tent was spacious, enough to accommodate Hoshiguma’s height, tables where operation map plans were still in the middle of being drawn, and a row of whiteboards illustrating battle plans. Amongst the squiggles the Doctor made out, one looked like script in black Yan characters.

“Is that supposed to be there?” the Doctor pointed it out.

Ch’en saw the writing, cursed, and stomped over. She wiped it away with her bared fingers.

“What was that?” asked the Doctor.

“It is none of your—”

“‘Evil stone, black stone, pray you don’t catch it, for the reaper, dark’s reaper, will follow and take you.’” Hoshiguma spoke over Ch’en, who glared murderously.

“You are to speak of no further unrelated subjects, Inspector. First, your side of what happened.”

Now, Hoshiguma adopted a serious voice. “Yes madam. At around 1700 today, I received a report from, uh, PC12321, who received the Doctor and Miss Plume at the camp checkpoint. She relayed the Doctor’s reason that he wished to converse with the lower-ranked guards and Superintendent Ch’en in person, regarding the retreat order she issued at the abandoned Chernobog city sector five days ago. I volunteered to escort the Doctor around in addition to Miss Plume given his importance as an ally, and allowed him a share of tonight’s dinner and to speak with the men.”

Ch’en looked from the Oni to the tactician. Her gaze wavered for a split second, then she was steely in tone and poise.

“Doctor, was what Inspector Hoshiguma said true?”

“It was,” he answered. “I want to apologize for causing trouble.”

“To strengthen relations between the involved parties, the joint agreement requires that in-person visits between Rhodes Island and the L.G.D. are allowed, other than those of confidential nature. And given that no serious repercussions have been borne of this visit, I deem my subordinates’ injuries inconsequential.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

They looked at each other. Rather, the Doctor thought Ch’en kept staring at him like a dispassionate video camera, waiting until her memory of this moment got included into a report that would be put behind and turn into nothing more than a past memory.

“May I speak with you then?” he asked. “Privately, if you wish.”

“…Very well. Miss Plume, Inspector, if you both could wait outside the tent.”

“With all due respect, I was tasked to watch over the Doctor.”

In all of a sudden, Plume stood between her charge and the Superintendent. Hoshiguma cautiously raised a hand. “Whoa there, Miss…” she started to say.

“Stand back, Hoshiguma,” Ch’en ordered as she watched Plume.

“Plume,” said the Doctor, “I’ll be fine.”

Plume’s eyebrows knitted themselves. “But… Doctor…”

“I trust Ch’en not to do anything more than what happened to jeopardize Lungmen’s interests. Please trust me on this.”

Ch’en’s lips parted and closed for a second. The Liberi guardian gripped her halberd tightly, then she bowed to him and Ch’en, and left the tent with Hoshiguma.

Once their shadows behind the fabric faded away, Ch’en drew out plastic stools from under the tables and sat on one herself. “You can sit on that one, Doctor,” she offered.

He obliged. “I am sorry for Plume being wary of you. I did not realize how… dutiful she can be.”

“…How long has Miss Plume been with you?” she asked. To hear Ch’en be soft like this was a first for the Doctor. “Guarding you, I mean.”

“Twelve days. She volunteered to guard me not long after I arrived at Rhodes Island.”

“Huh. Duty.”

“…This is the first time you dropped the formal act. Or not like a discipli… yes, disciplinarian in a school.”

Ch’en’s tail swiped at the carpeted floor. “If you perceived any offensive behavior on my part, I will apologize in advance. However, as I have spoken during our first meeting and negotiation, L.G.D.’s obligations and mine are the same: to Lungmen, not outsiders.”

The Doctor looked at her. Ch’en did not meet his eyes, instead looking down to their feet. It reminded him of how a certain sleepless bear-girl acted, like she did something wrong. Children appear to have a lot of tells in their body language—not that she was one, of course.

“Have you ever had to arrest Infected?” he asked, trying his luck. But if he was right about Ch’en…

“Countless times,” she answered immediately. “I will not lie. Infected mistreatment amongst civilians and slum dwellers does not escape me. However, Lungmen’s law comes first, and they have committed crimes regardless.”

“Do you think you betrayed Rhodes Island then, where they cooperated according to both parties’ expectations? Was it because they were Infected?”

And then did Ch’en look at him, truly and fully as she glared. “It was not a matter of Oripathy.”

“You feel guilty.”

“You don’t know me, stranger. Your skills as a commander may be beyond anyone, much less myself, but you don’t know me, least of all now. What do you know?”

“That you did not betray Rhodes Island.”

The Lung smiled self-deprecatingly. “Of course I—” Then the smile melted. “What… What do you mean I didn’t betray Rhodes Island?”

“You betrayed a lot of expectations: Swire’s, Hoshiguma’s, and Rhodes Island included, but you did it for Lungmen. You did not lie. I think that you did not betray what you mean to do. I think… you are being too hard on yourself.”

“I—” She stopped herself, then spoke calmly with the face of someone who had a heart attack, “I ordered the retreat.”

“You did.”

“I… I did it, knowing it would merely skirt any violations of the joint agreement. I knew it would place you and your squad in danger that day.”

“I knew it too. So did Amiya. To us and everyone else, it was wrong. It sounds like you knew it was wrong, too.”

“It was, damn it.”

“But it wasn’t because Rhodes Island had Infected. You had Lungmen in your mind. That was all.”

Ch’en’s hands curled into fists on her knees, shaking ever so slightly, still in her seat. The Doctor stood up. He was done here.

“Wait!” She rose to her feet unsteadily. “Doctor—you—why aren’t you blaming me!?”

Ch’en’s eyes now searched the Doctor’s mask for an answer. For a moment, the tactician thought he saw someone else overlapping Ch’en image, from her horns to her tail. The same adventurous attitude, the daring, only with white hair…

“Because you felt shame.”

“Is shame enough?” Ch’en’s voice finally came alive since the start of this meeting. “I have been in the L.G.D. for six years. I have witnessed hundreds of cases and felt shame thousands of times doing my ‘duty’. I have seen it in my fellow guardsmen and not once have any of them raised their voice against the atrocities being perpetuated until the day you came into that camp. If shame was enough to recognize all wrongs, then why hasn’t this… this *Lungmen slang* of a city changed?”

Fumizuki let out a gasp, for once breaking her demure facade. She looked at Ch'en like she was ill all along.

“You are learning, and you still are now,” the Doctor replied. “The law, the Infected, Lungmen—I don’t know it as much as you do about all these things. All I can tell is that you have come so far for a reason.”

“Far? This city is larger than you think. Being a Superintendent is nowhere near enough.”

“You have others who know about your dream. I talked to them. Hoshiguma knows it. Swire too. You have friends.”

Ch’en laughed drily. “If only it were so convenient.” The Lung saluted to Fumizuki. “Princess, I must excuse myself for improper misconduct.”

“…Go,” was all Fumizuki said. Ch’en strode out of the room.

The Lung princess sighed. “In all my years, I have never seen her… so vulnerable.”

“Have you… known her for long?” asked the Doctor.

The smile she gave the Doctor made him think he was probably in trouble for bringing up such a topic, but she answered, “Since she was a child growing under Yenwu’s care. He knew her parents as well. Alongside… no, it’s best if you heard it from Ch’en. Now, I must apologize to you for what I now wish to discuss.”

“That, meaning…?”

“I will have to impose on you.” Fumizuki cleared her throat.

“Doctor of Rhodes Island—as a sign of goodwill towards Rhodes Island, take my shinobi, ShiraYuki, under your employ as a bodyguard.”

“…!”

Of all the people who reacted first, but the most obvious, ShiraYuki looked at her master and her to-be employer.

Plume watched the shinobi quietly.

After an awkward moment where Fumizuki explained to the Doctor that there will be further discussions about the shinobi’s employment at a later date, while said woman was staring at her master, the Doctor and his bodyguard took the elevator down to the lobby. A Rhodes Island car was on its way there, where it will take them to a bought building serving as the Rhodes Island branch for Lungmen.

The two waited behind the glass inside the building’s lobby, watching few cars drive past. For Plume’s part, she kept watch on the tall, distant buildings.

“Are you worried about assassins on those buildings?” the Doctor asked her.

“Ah? Yes, but Miss Gravel should already have scouted them out. Presently, I didn’t spot any suspicious figures.”

“Hm.” The Doctor took out his terminal, a small handheld tablet the size of two smartphones or so dedicated to work. He typed a message to Gravel. In an instant, he got a reply. “She says that she already scouted the buildings out. She also saw the car coming for us. She will be back here in about ten minutes, the same time when the car will arrive.”

“I see. She is dedicated as ever.”

“You have been getting along well with her, right? Gravel can be eccentric, but she’s nice.”

“Oh, it’s not that, even if she does startle me. I was… remembering that night you, ah, confronted the Superintendent.”

“That was really nerve-grinding for me.” The Doctor meant it. There he was strolling into a camp full of Infected… dislike-ers, and one dragon that was easy to anger, still an amnesiac and a stranger to the city. No wonder Amiya worried for him. “I’m sorry I made you put up with my behavior at the time.”

Plume bowed her head bashfully, if awkwardly. “It’s no worry, Doctor. I am glad to be doing my duty, however sudden the incidents were after I appointed myself as your guard. It was that… I neglected to tell you of my conversation with Inspector Hoshiguma while we were outside the tent.”

“You did? What was it about?”

“…You, Doctor.”

“I gotta say,” said Hoshiguma as they stopped behind a pile of crates, not far from the tent, “that Doctor of yours is a trooper. Look at him, out there on the field and here standing before good old angry Ch’en.”

Plume looked blankly up at the far taller Oni. She still worried about leaving the Doctor alone with the woman, head of an organization that looked down on Infected. Only then did the Liberi realize she was supposed to reply.

“I-I’m afraid I cannot claim to know the Doctor very well, Inspector. I have only been assigned as his bodyguard for twelve days now.”

Hoshiguma whistled. “For a bodyguard of twelve days, that’s some dedication you showed back there.”

Plume blushed. “I swore to protect the Doctor. I wouldn’t go back on my word.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed!” The Oni rubbed the bladed edge of her shield she still carried. “My comrades out on the field tend to lose their heads in the fight, so I took up a shield to make they don’t go tripping in their bloodlust. You have to be vigilant, careful that the one you’re protecting doesn’t get their head blown off in the moment you took your eyes off them. I bet you’ve seen a fair share of that around that guy.”

“I… have, yes.”

As the tactical advisor, and communications often being disrupted by Originium-influenced weather, the Doctor personally went out on the field to command the Operators. He usually took cover and issued commands by radio or in person, but some manner of enemy like stealthed Wraiths or a charging pack of hounds often broke through the frontlines. Those were the thankfully rare times when Plume would put her halberd to use.

The Oni gestured at Plume’s halberd. “It’s kind of long for someone as short as you, isn’t it? Not to mention that Liberi don’t usually have a lot of strength.”

“I do not, not in the same way my fellow guards back in Laterano did,” admitted Plume. “I had to compensate for that with technique. I imagine you have had to carry your shield the entire day, Inspector.”

“Oh, that’s just a product of my blood and training. Either way, that’s interesting… You could probably pull back the Doctor easier with it.”

“That is… What is your point, Inspector?”

Hoshiguma pointed a thumb back to where the Doctor and the Superintendent were. “I’ve known that Lung girl for a while now, and I still can’t be sure whether she’s got a death wish or she wants to give her all by charging into battle. I’m getting the same feeling from the Doctor.”

…It was true, Plume supposed. For a tactician, and a figure of great importance as Executives Amiya and Kal’tsit implied, should the Doctor not be farther from the fighting itself?

“Regardless, it is not my place to question his decisions,” said Plume.

Hoshiguma raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s fine? The Doctor’s probably going to get into even more danger after this.”

“I’m sure. I only have my duty, and that is to guard him.”

The Oni went silent and stared at Plume. Plume tensed, grasping her halberd reflexively. Did she upset her?

Then Hoshiguma chuckled. “Yeah, it’s way easier to keep things simple. I like that! But you know, Miss Plume, I don’t think just anyone would have gotten in the way of a Superintendent who’s got swords to draw. Maybe you were just thoughtless, or maybe you were doing your duty. You’re more likely both. Kind of headstrong. …Like Ch’en, actually.”

Plume tried not to take offense, or let the feeling show on her face. “I don’t think I appreciate the comparison.”

“Now there, I meant it as a compliment… Actually, maybe not.”

Hoshiguma scratched her head. “What I mean to say is that, please look out for the Doctor for me. He’s real nice. It would be a huge shame for someone like him to go out, especially before he can talk with Ch’en again.”

The Doctor laughed quietly. “Hoshiguma is always looking out for others.”

“In my time as a member of the Pontifica Cohors Lateran, I put my very being into my duties as a guard. I struggled, but I knew no regrets and lived satisfied as a proud protector of the state.”

“Then you arrived at Rhodes Island.”

“Yes… It was all so… new. Strange. To watch such a dizzying myriad of colors and lives, lived so vividly it made Laterano dull in comparison—sh-shameful as it is that I admit it.”

“Like… you were in your home one second, only to be dropped into a painting? Like it’s another world out of a fairy tale?”

“You couldn’t have described my feelings better.”

Plume looked at this… strange person. Rather, what was truly strange was her unintentional journey from Laterano to Rhodes Island, lost and letting herself be carried by the flow of events until she heard about the Doctor one day, an amnesiac who apparently took up the role of a commander the moment he woke up.

“Doctor, can I ask a question?”

“Sure. You know you don’t have to hold back with me.”

“Although… Although having a bodyguard was mandatory for you, you still had the right to turn me away. I thought you would not immediately trust Rhodes Island, them being strangers to you at the time. Why was it that you let me be your guard?”

The Doctor tilted his head and held the pose for a moment. Then he answered, “Because you asked.”

“I’m sorry?”

“First of all, it’s not so much I trust Rhodes Island as much as I would be on my own out there if I were to turn away from them. And I had a feeling that I can find answers if I were with them. And there's the girls who I met since I woke; I could not leave them.

“As for you, Plume, you asked something of me. I mean, you didn’t ask in person, and I only heard about your request at the time, but it was one of my first and few times that someone wanted something from me rather than just assuming I had better things to do. It was a sign of trust, however small it seemed at the start. I appreciated that.”

“Doctor…”

“But when I met you in person, I thought, ‘She looks really lost.’”

“Lost?” Plume repeated absentmindedly. “I arrived at your office.”

“Oh, I meant you look how Perfumer described me in my first days at the Ark: alone, about to trip, not sure of your surroundings, idling for no reason…”

The factual way the Doctor described Plume brought the Liberi an indescribable amount of shame at how she acted. Was her culture shock more evident than she realized?

“…and in need of help,” he finished. “You looked lonely. I knew the feeling so I wanted to help, at least until you have friends.”

“But Doctor… you were being avoided. It’s not the same as being a newcomer.”

“I know. But loneliness is loneliness. Judging from how you’ve been around other Operators, it’s good to see my faithful bodyguard has friends.”

Plume could not help but remember watching an animation of a mother being satisfied seeing her daughter with her friends. She was not sure how to address this feeling.

“The months after that were really eventful, to say the least. I keep running into trouble no matter what, and for some of them, you end up sharing the problems.” The Doctor nodded his head in shame. “I’m really sorry for being a troublesome protectee.”

But more than anything, the relief Plume had for having something, anything to do—now it was with the Doctor of Rhodes Island.

She held the Doctor’s hand. “Don’t worry, Doctor,” she said. “On that day, words couldn’t describe my gratefulness to having a purpose, and that gratefulness has grown since then. Where my pride existed in being a Lateranian Guard, it now lies in my duty to you. I have so much to see now, this I realized by being with you.

“You cared for me, Doctor, so I swear by my halberd, your trust in me will never be misplaced.”

Ch’en peeked at the scene from behind a pillar in the lobby.

She did not speak up for the Infected. She worked at the head of a police force that perpetuated this state of affairs. She just had her swords and her duty, and no one who could truly help, even when the Doctor told her otherwise.

Here she was, though, eavesdropping.

“I’m no hero,” she spoke this truth for herself, as she had every time she stared down thugs and sobbing Infected alike, as she had looking down on slum dwellers living far from the heart of the city.

“I’m just doing my duty.”