She doesn't really know when it started, but Lucia keeps having strange dreams.
In the dream, her vision drifts free from her body, floating over the world like a ghost.
Decoration complete!
Lucia! Shall we start the party?
—Lucia!
Lucia! Don't come out! Take your sister upstairs!
Lucia sees [player name] relentlessly chased by eerie shadows, body slowly dissolving, forced to turn away from the light and plunge into darkness.
She watches as [player name] ascends this strange staircase, pushing onward all the way to the very top...
And Lucia, too, chases after [player name]'s retreating figure, climbing, falling, returning to the same starting point again and again.
In that bewildering, phantasmagoric haze, Lucia calls out; the dreadful crimson nightmare follows like a second shadow, swallowing every cherished soul around her.
Her father's badge shatters. Her mother's face is blotted out.
Luna's voice elongates into a sharp wail, then silence.
In her world, nothing is left but that retreating figure.
—[player name]!!
She runs, stumbling, her lungs about to explode.
At last, her fingers seize that arm—
Szzzt—
...?
No head turns. She is holding nothing but an "arm."
It sears her palm, the break jagged and raw, splinters of bone thrusting out from torn sinew, blood pouring from the cross-section—
[player name]...?
Like thrusting her hand into molten iron, the pain burrows from the surface of her skin straight into the bone. Her fingertips blister and shrivel, eaten through bit by bit.
The blood seems alive, crawling up her wrist, creeping into her sleeve, seeping into the creases of her skin—
...!!
Her eyes snap open.
Sunlight slants through the window, sharp enough to make her squint. Her cheek rests against the cold desk; before her lie scattered documents and a pen that has rolled to the very edge.
[player name]...
[player name] stands outside the window, one hand braced against the frame, leaning slightly to peer inside. Morning light pours in from behind, casting a long shadow across the desk.
...
She lingers in a daze for a moment, then exhales deeply, as though shedding a heavy weight.
Right.
Lucia rubs her eyes, scrubbing away the paper creases imprinted on her cheek. Beyond the window, the sky is a flawless blue. Far off, Bifrost catches the morning sun and glints silver, its maintenance rigging already restored, every trace of impact erased.
A full year has passed since that attack.
You went on for way too long last night.
One thrust vector model. Four different solutions. I had to spend half the night untangling them just to figure out which one was worth using.
Lucia doesn't answer. She gets up, brushes the creases from her uniform, and snatches the textbooks off the desk, stuffing them into her bag with visible irritation.
You're surprisingly dense sometimes.
Move.
She swings a leg over the sill and slips out through the window. Living on the first floor of the dorm, she's been treating this window like a door for a whole year now.
[player name] watches her land, mouth opening as if to speak, but ends up saying nothing.
The two walk side by side toward the academic building. A thin morning mist still clings to F.O.S., and from the distant training grounds come the faint shouts of underclassmen already running their laps.
Lucia keeps her earphones draped around her neck, not on her ears. When this habit changed, she can't quite say.
What she does know is that ever since she started down this path with [player name], so much has begun to change.
The subject list for next year's placement exam is out. You've seen it?
The Science Council's setting it this time.
Difficult isn't the problem. I just want everything to go without a hitch.
Lucia's overall scores have consistently placed her in the top ten of the first-class cadets, with combat and physical training firmly holding in the top three. Academic subjects aren't her strongest area, but her foundations are solid, and she's never once fallen below the safety line.
[player name]'s strengths run in the opposite direction, and the two are often locked in a tug-of-war around the same ranking band.
The lunar base is expanding its second phase next year. Word is they're badly understaffed. If people with combat experience transfer in, it saves them a lot of time bringing everyone up to speed.
Well, F.O.S. didn't put us through all this just to pass exams.
I want to go somewhere I'm actually needed. Doesn't matter if it's the Moon, Mars, or even the frontlines on Earth—as long as I don't have to sit in this classroom.
Besides... Luna said she wants to see lunar soil.
She pauses for a beat, her voice softening just a little.
She mentioned it on our last call. One of her classmates, whose parent works at the lunar base, brought back a small bottle. She's been wanting some ever since.
If I'm going, I might as well bring some back for her.
The two have barely rounded the corner of the academic building when the sound of arguing reaches them from up ahead.
More precisely, a shrill voice and a clipped, rigid voice clashing back and forth.
I told you! I got here first!
Training ground access is determined by reservation timestamp, not physical arrival time.
I was standing here at six in the morning!
The terminal confirms I submitted my reservation at 5:57 AM.
Who in their right mind makes a reservation at 5:57 in the morning?!
Someone who shows up at six should understand someone who reserves at 5:57.
...You said that on purpose, didn't you?
I was only stating a fact.
You absolute mule! Can you talk like a normal human being for once?!
...I believe everything I've said complies with academy regulations.
I swear, I'm going to wring your neck.
At least now they argue while walking side by side instead of shouting across the whole training ground.
Lucia and [player name] walk past them, tilting their heads slightly.
Morning.
...Morning.
Good morning.
The two replies halt the argument in perfect, unexpected sync. Two seconds stretch by. And then—
I already let you use the training ground! Why are you still following me?!
I'm not following you. The equipment room is in this direction. Excessive sensitivity is a recognized psychological condition. I recommend...
Lucia and [player name] shake their heads and keep walking.
At the stairwell entrance of the academic building, a piercing wail spills out from a third-floor window.
I—can't—take—this—anymore—!!
Ms. Cassandra!! Please, I'm begging you. Leave!!
The comms lab requires absolute electromagnetic silence during signal calibration! Your mechanical arm is wrecking the readings!
Wrecking? Darling, I'm only sitting here and observing. Practically a statue.
You are NOT! That... that arm of yours is spraying data fragrance every other second! My spectrum analyzer is completely flooded with your signal!
Oh? Then this arm is performing rather magnificently, isn't it?
That is NOT something to be proud of in a lab!!
Joanne leans out of the third-floor window, hair a bird's nest, glasses askew, her face the picture of despair.
Lucia—[player name]—save me—!
She showed up at the crack of dawn, insisting on "inspecting teaching outcomes"! All my calibration data is ruined!
Lucia doesn't slow her steps, only casting Joanne a look of pity.
Hey! You're just going to leave me here to die?!
Sorry, Joanne... We'll be late.
Wait, wait—!
Joanne pulls back inside, and a racket of banging and clattering erupts. She's likely wrestling to reclaim something from Cassandra's grasp.
Last time we stepped in to stop Cassandra's cosmic ray hair-dye project, it landed us a three-thousand-word written reflection.
Good evening, darlings! It's time for your evening music broadcast! Today's selection is a genuine masterpiece, freshly composed by your illustrious trustee, using a mere one ten-thousandth of her genius and a precious fifteen minutes of her afternoon!
An indescribable torrent of electronic beats pours from the speakers. The bass booms like muffled thunder, the melody veering wildly across bizarre frequencies, punctuated now and then by what might be a human moan, or just a synthesizer shorting out.
The entire academic building is suffering under the assault.
Beneath the desk, Lucia's right leg is jittering faster and faster. Her pen has already punched several holes through her notebook. Her face remains impassive, but a vein at her temple is slowly, visibly beginning to throb.
Across the table, [player name] puts down the pen, checks the time on the terminal, and discreetly fires off a message to some group chat.
Where?
With a small jerk of the chin, [player name] gestures toward the window. A year ago, the two of them had flown over that very place in a plane on the verge of falling apart.
Lucia's right leg stops. She pulls off her earphones and looks at [player name].
...You can ride now?
I taught you once. You crashed three times.
...
She closes her notebook.
The hill behind F.O.S. is not much of a climb, just a gentle slope on the outskirts of Aerospace City, strewn with sparse tropical brush. There are no streetlights here, and few ever bother to come.
From the top, the whole of Aerospace City unfolds below. Bifrost's lights climb from the ground straight into the clouds, a pillar of radiance driven into the night.
The motorcycle rests beside a low, scrawny tree at the hilltop, its engine ticking softly as it cools.
The two of them sit on the grass, legs crossed, shoulders pressed lightly together.
The stars above are fierce and bright. So near the equator, with no light pollution to dim them, the Milky Way sprawls across the vault of heaven like a pale river of light.
Lucia tips her head back, watching the boundless, ink-dark sky. She stays silent for a long, long moment.
No.
Lucia glances down. Sure enough, a small patch of the tender green grass beside her hand has been plucked clean.
...You talk too much.
Frowning, she gives [player name] a pointed jab.
A breeze drifts up from the foot of the hill, carrying the dry, crisp scent of evaporated liquid oxygen. It's a smell unique to Aerospace City, one that follows you wherever you go.
Lucia smooths back a strand of silver hair lifted by the light wind and turns her head.
After all this is over... what do you want to do first?
I mean after we graduate. When we leave F.O.S.
[player name] lowers gaze, taking a moment to think.
...What does that mean?
...
Lucia rests her chin in her hand, offering no response.
Me?
She tilts her head, giving it genuine thought for a moment.
Same as you, I suppose.
Yeah. I want to go somewhere higher, where I can protect more people.
She still pulls at the grass, her gaze fixed on the light atop Bifrost.
...When I was little, I used to have this strange dream.
I'd fall into this thick fog. People all around me, but they'd vanish one by one. I'd just stand there, reaching out... but I couldn't hold on to anyone.
Every time I woke up, I couldn't remember a thing. Just... my palms would feel hot. Like I'd forgotten something important.
Ever since then, I wanted to get stronger. To protect Luna, to protect my parents. And as I grew older, I wanted to reach higher and protect more people. Like... the heroes in those cartoons.
That's why I came to F.O.S.
She snaps another blade of grass, her eyes fixed on the toes of her shoes.
There are so many people in this world fighting for the same cause. That makes me want to be at the very front. To stand before all of them.
For a brief moment, [player name] says nothing, simply following her gaze out toward the distant sky.
...You're gonna laugh, aren't you?
Lucia's fingers tighten unconsciously. She deliberately turns her head away, refusing to look at [player name].
...Then why are you so quiet?
...The same way?
...
Lucia studies [player name]. The dark hides every expression, leaving only a silhouette and the faint glint of stars reflected in those eyes.
In some ways, we really are alike.
[player name] smiles gently.
Teammate?
So that's what you've been thinking about...
...Of course you'll be unstoppable when someone's always had your back.
She smiles, but then, as if something drifts across her thoughts, the motion stills.
Lifting her head to the sea of stars above, Lucia turns over that distant, yet achingly real, future in her mind.
She thinks for a moment, lips parting as if to speak—
When a low, resonant rumble rolls in from the distance.
Orange-red flames erupt from the nozzles on Bifrost's launch pad, their glare setting half the night sky ablaze.
A rocket rises—slowly at first, then gathering speed—piercing the clouds with a long tail of fire, like a star being born alight.
Both of them look up at once. In their eyes, the trail stretches into a single burning line, reaching from the edge of the horizon all the way into the deepest vault of the sky.
Lucia watches for a long, long time before she finally opens her mouth.
My life's changed a lot since I met you.
Having to deal with all these people. Being dragged into group activities. Squeezing around a cafeteria table with four others, two of whom never stop bickering.
My schedule got more regular. I have training partners now. And someone stays after class to review lessons with me... even if their explanations do drag on a bit.
She pulls up another handful of grass, eyes lingering on the flames as they slowly dissipate into the distance, entirely unaware of the soft rustling stirring in the grass beside her.
It's a hassle. Exhausting, way too loud, but I...
What?
She turns. In the darkness, three figures are standing on the other side of the hilltop.
Joanne holds up a crooked piece of cardboard with both hands. Someone has scrawled a few large words across it in marker. The letters are uneven, sloppy, clearly thrown together in a rush on the way here.
Ophelia stands beside her, hands planted on her hips, her expression somewhere between smug and awkward, like she's fighting hard to keep a straight face.
Adelyde stands rigidly upright on the far right, clutching a bag of still-deflated balloons she hasn't managed to blow up yet.
And then, all together, they draw in a deep, synchronized breath—
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!
The shout comes in pieces, a stagger of voices. Joanne bellows loudest of all. Ophelia chimes in a half-second late. Adelyde delivers at a carefully measured volume, neither overly enthusiastic nor entirely indifferent.
You...
Caught off guard, Lucia turns to look at [player name].
At some point, [player name] has risen to stand, holding a modest cake with a few candles planted in it, their tiny flames flickering unsteadily in the night breeze.
......
Lucia opens her mouth, instinctively ready to protest, but no words come. With practiced restraint, she settles for silence.
She really did forget her own birthday. She always forgets it. Yet someone always remembers it for her.
Back then, it was Dad, Mom, and Luna.
Now—
Ophelia and I made the cake together! It took us two tries to get it right! The first time, she set the oven to some weird unit, somewhere between Celsius and Fahrenheit, I think...
Shut it! Do you have to say all that?!
Ahem! Anyway, it turned out great!
Hold on. You tasted it?
I couldn't help myself when it came out of the oven! Just a tiny bite!
Your "tiny bite" removed an entire chunk from the side.
That's why I turned that side toward the back...
In the next moment, everyone swarms around Lucia in a jumble of overlapping voices. Ophelia doesn't bother asking; she just stuffs a crumpled party hat straight into [player name]'s hands.
Hehe. [player name], put it on her!
Wait, I don't—
[player name]...!
Before Lucia can even react, [player name] has already settled the little ["crown"] onto her head.
The party hat sits crooked, its elastic strap pinching her ear, not exactly comfortable.
Joanne has her terminal out, snapping photos, the flash strobing bright. Ophelia stands beside her, calling out angles. Adelyde is trying to inflate the bag of balloons but clearly struggling; she's made three attempts already and still hasn't managed to tie a single one off.
Lucia stands in the middle of them all, a crooked hat perched on her head, a cake with a chunk missing in front of her, and behind her, the rocket's last trail of exhaust still climbing through the night sky.
She can't tell if she's happy or if she just feels too miserable, but her nose prickles all the same.
Lucia looks down at the candles trembling in the wind. Their flames dance in her eyes, small, but very bright.
...
I hope... you live a life filled with happiness, Lucia.
(I wish those strange dreams would never come true.)
(I wish Mom's wish for me would come true. Please make it come true.)
(And I wish...)
The candle flames shiver in the night breeze, mirrored in her eyes. Small, yet impossibly bright. Far away, the lights of Bifrost climb from the earth all the way into the clouds, where they blur seamlessly into the stars overhead.
(Everyone would find their way to tomorrow, safe and happy.)
Her wishes are more for others than for herself.
Because when it comes to "Lucia's" own wishes and happiness, those, she has the resolve to make happen on her own.
She closes her eyes, silent for a few seconds—
Then she blows out every candle in a single breath.
So? So? What's your wish?
Not telling. It won't come true if I do.
Aww, you're no fun... Fine, fine. Anyway, placement exam! Everyone feeling confident?
Hmph. What kind of question is that? I'll ace every single subject. Obviously.
You placed third in Materials Engineering last time. Behind Lucia and [player name].
Shut up, shut up, shut up—
If only they'd skip the fitness test... sigh...
Lucia cuts a slice of cake and passes it to [player name], then cuts four more, handing them out one by one.
We'll get through it.
Her voice comes out soft, as if meant for everyone to hear, yet also for herself.
After placements, whether it's the moon or staying on the surface...
She glances up at the sky, her eyes following the rocket's trail as it slowly dissolves.
Either way, we'll all see each other again one day.
On the hill behind F.O.S., five young people sit gathered around a handful of candles and a less-than-perfect cake, wrapped in the academy's night.
In the distance, Bifrost blazes with light, the rocket's exhaust trail long since vanished into the sweep of the Milky Way.
The wind scatters the candle smoke, threading the air with the sweetness of cream.
The evening breeze rolls across the grassy hillside, catching their laughter and carrying it far, far away, so far it feels like even the stars might hear.
