[Last night, a burst of fire blossomed on the sea about fifty kilometers off the East Sea coast. Preliminary checks say a clogged subsea gas pipeline choked, then blew like a ruptured vein. The site was remote, the waves empty; no casualties.]

The next morning, Yekase flicked on the TV in Room 103, the screen washing her face in pale dawn-light, and that report rolled across the ticker like a cold tide.

“No one… hurt… yet it was…” Her voice trembled first, then broke, like frost cracking on glass.

A girl sat at the table, nibbling ketchup-smeared toast in tiny bites, a squirrel hunched over a red leaf.

After that mess, Yekase had strong-armed Zhang Wendao onto the island, her grip a towline in rough surf. Professor F panicked at first, a bird startled at thunder, then let her stay once Yekase laid out her hero credentials like a badge under sunlight.

She still couldn’t accept walking past danger, a heart tight as a knotted rope; yet she saw Yekase hit hard to save her, and her mind swung back and forth like a hanging lantern.

“Alright, tell us about yourself.” The tone was steady, the water calm, the oar ready.

Ling Yi sat beside her, passing a cup of water and spreading sauce, hands moving like soft wind over reeds.

It touched ZEROS, so Yekase didn’t want Ling Yi in the room; but the moment she saw Zhang, a fierce maternal warmth flared like a hearth, and she refused to step out, heels rooted like a tree.

“I… um… my name is Zhang Wendao.” Her cheeks flushed, a spring peach under thin mist.

“You really are called that!” Joy popped like a spark, quick and bright.

“Yekase… is that a fake name?” Suspicion crept, a cat peering from shadow.

“No.” A single word, clean as a blade.

So it was.

Yekase decided if she let Zhang talk, the morning would spill away like sand; she grabbed her work tablet, its glass a quiet pond, and had her type.

“I belonged to the Twenty Second Squad during the One-Year War in 2012. At the end, the Exogenous leader self-detonated, a sun imploding, erasing the One-Year War from the world-line and replacing it with a history where no war happened. Our squad was closest, and our existence was wiped like chalk in rain. Since then, I’ve wandered like a leaf caught in a current.”

…Chuunibyou, huh. The thought pricked like a thorn.

It’s 2021 now; still stuck on 2012? If she hadn’t brought it up, Yekase wouldn’t even recall the 2012 doomsday meme, a faded poster on a damp wall.

“Then why weren’t you erased?” Curiosity flared, a fox-tail candle.

“Because my ability is time reversal, limited to myself.” The answer landed neat, a stone skipping across water.

Great. She patched the hole, a stitch in a torn sail.

Yekase didn’t want to buy the “world-line rewrite” story, her mind braced like a seawall; but she needed proof to argue, so she shelved doubt like a book on a high rack.

“The Exogenous curse lingers, making me vanish each instant, then restore the next, a flickering star. I spend all my power just holding myself together, so I need to become someone else to fight.” Her words were measured, a drum beaten between breaths.

“So the transformation really swaps your whole body, a skin shed and reborn… that fortune-teller had a point.” Yekase’s eyes narrowed, a lens finding focus.

“When you touched me, did you feel it stutter, like the contact was blinking?” Her gaze lifted, a moth drawn to flame.

Ling Yi snapped her head over, tears ready, steel under silk. “Doctor, what did you do to her while I was gone?” Her voice hit first, emotion like a stormfront.

Yekase threw up both hands, a sailor signaling surrender. “Nothing! I just stopped her reckless rescue and brought her to the island, safe as cargo in the hold!”

“You… beat me… so seriously…” The words shivered, a reed in wind.

“—Beat?!” Shock rang, a bell struck hard.

“She was in Magical Girl state then!” Ling Yi’s eyes turned cold, looking at trash by the roadside.

“Heavy punches to a Magical Girl… Doctor, you…” Her judgment fell, a winter shadow.

“Ugh, enough! Fine, I’ll accept this for now—an alien invasion war happened in 2012, then got wiped from the world-line, objectively gone. The participants lost their memories. The one person who glitched out and kept hers is you. That’s the gist, right?” Yekase laid it out, calm as a chart.

Zhang Wendao nodded, meek as grass after rain.

The info hit like a wave, heavy and cold.

“I’ll ask anyway. Your Twenty Second Squad—what scale? Who commanded? What gear?” Yekase’s tone sharpened, a pen point on paper.

“Doctor, what’s the point?” Ling Yi’s worry fluttered, a sparrow under the eaves.

“To estimate the war’s size. And to find the glitch.” Her smile was thin, a knife’s edge.

“Forty people. Our captain was Magical Girl ZEROS, my idol; logistics came from the Twin Towers Aerospace Institute ‘———’; our commander was a cadre sent by Shadow Curtain International.” The text scrolled, black ink over white snow.

“…Eh?” Yekase let out a dumb sound, a bubble breaking.

Twin Towers Aerospace Institute was her alma mater, a pair of spires in her memory.

And the name right after… that was her real name, a seed buried in ash.

Me? Was that me? The thought struck, lightning over a lake.

Ling Yi didn’t grasp the weight, her smile bright as confetti. “It was alien invasion, so the Sinister Organization united with heroes to protect Earth! Total movie vibes. Such a shame—if no one had lost their memories, maybe those baddies would be a little…”

“Impossible. A sinister org is sinister. Even ‘protecting Earth’ starts from their own interests.” Yekase’s answer was cool, a blade sheathed in frost.

Inside, she was chaos, waves crossing in a storm.

2012… nine years ago. She was still in college then, talent already sparking; as logistics, she’d be more than enough, a cog that fits too well. Damn it, too genius—no contradictions at all! The complaint hissed, steam from a kettle.

Yekase now believed Zhang Wendao, the anchor set; one question remained, a hook in deep water:

Dragon God Shark—how did that tie to ZEROS? How did she learn a name already erased, and why clutch it with near-manic devotion, a pearl in a clenched fist?

She’d have to ask the person herself, lantern in hand.

“Alright, I believe you. But in your state, still fighting and saving—aren’t you pushing too hard?” Concern surfaced first, then form, a tide then a boat.

“I… it’s fine. I still… have this life!” Zhang’s face flushed, a ripe apple, and her words strained like a rope under load.

“Big Sister ZEROS… everyone in the Twenty Second Squad… staked their existence… to protect those people… I don’t want… to see them fight each other!” Her plea was raw, a cry in wind.

— Silence pooled, a deep well.

Yekase drew a long breath, steadying her heart, a sailor tying a knot. Was I that badass? In a wiped line, I fought beside heroes and saved the Earth? Thank heaven I was logistics—otherwise I’d be gone with the Two-Two Squad, a flower pressed flat.

Ling Yi was already weeping at her side, tears like beads on silk. “Let’s… fight together!” She clasped Zhang Wendao’s small pale hand, two lilies touching.

“I think one partner is plenty.” Yekase’s voice cooled, a shade under noon.

“She’s just one person!” Ling Yi’s protest flared, a candle under wind.

“What, a ghost? Oh. Close.” The joke fell soft, a leaf.

Yekase believed Zhang Wendao, yet that didn’t mean acceptance; her priority was guarding Ling Yi from justice-born trouble, a wall around a garden. A Magical Girl with harsh transform conditions and weak fighting power was dead weight, an anchor on a skiff.

If she remembered fighting with the Twenty Second Squad, old comrade feeling might make her take Zhang in; right now, no.

“It’s late. Ling Yi, get to training.” The order snapped, a flag in breeze.

“If you don’t take her, I’m not going!” Defiance flashed, a cat arching.

“But the one who punishes you for being late… isn’t me, right?” The logic landed, a pebble on a scale.

“R-right…” Ling Yi blushed, two hops like sparrow steps, then bolted out, wind at her heels.

The room quieted to two: Yekase and Zhang Wendao, still water and a single ripple.

Yekase needed her info, so she wouldn’t leave her without hope; she rubbed her chin, a smith weighing metal. “You said your body flickers between erasure and return. ‘Existence’ level is new to me, but I’ve seen something similar.” Her thought rose first, then the words, cloud then rain.

Erasure and restoration—annihilation and birth, cinders and spark.

But each “birth” locked to the same result, and her existence stretched forward like a dotted line, stubborn stitches across void.

Every instant of her died, a candle snuffed; the next reversed instant appeared, inheriting the thought and will, a flame relit.

Her speech staggered not from weak lungs or thin confidence, but because her vocal cords kept refreshing, a harp restrung each beat.

What a fearsome will. Iron under silk, granite under snow.

“As I said, I’m a craftsman. I study Flash Energy. Your case looks like the symmetric particles that annihilated endlessly before Flash Energy’s birth, twin sparks chasing. I might find a way to fight the curse—if you don’t make trouble.” Her promise was steel wrapped in velvet.

Zhang had braced for a final eviction, a door shut in rain; instead Yekase spun a full 180, lantern lifted, a path lit. She nodded fast, joy breaking like sunlight.

She heard “don’t make trouble” as pure tsundere, a thorn around a rose.

“Tell me about ZEROS and that logistics guy. Write whatever you know.” The request was calm, a net cast wide.

“ZEROS was our captain, a Magical Girl who wielded starlight, brilliant and strong, a comet’s dress. She was tough and gentle, always caring, a warm north star. She looked like my transformation last night. Because our team had Sinister Organization members, she stayed transformed till the end; I don’t know her real info.” The lines glowed, constellations on black.

“That’s fine. It’s enough.” Regret flickered, then faded, a cloud passing the moon.

“The logistics ‘———’ big brother was only nineteen, yet he invented so many gadgets and mechs, fireworks from bare hands. He was a true hero. We all called him Dr Ika.” The name dropped, a pebble into still water.

…Huh? The ripple widened.

“Dr Ika? Why?” Surprise pricked, a needle.

That codename came after she entered society, a tag she wore like a badge; yet here—

“Because he loved grilled squid tentacles with beer, and wore a lab coat every day, a white wave. So we used ‘ika’ in Japanese and added ‘doctor’! He was unhappy at first, but everyone kept it, and it stuck.” The explanation swayed, smoky and warm, a night stall by the pier.

It was the same path, step for step, a river finding the same sea.

No matter how the world-line shifts, roles flip and players swap, Yekase still becomes Dr Ika for grilled squid with beer—the fate tasted salty and sweet.

Why can’t I control this mouth? The sigh rose, a gull over foam.

Yekase shut her eyes and sank into thought, a diver slipping beneath green waves.

Zhang Wendao thought she pondered the One-Year War, and held her tongue, a candle kept low.

In truth, she despaired at her young self’s catastrophic naming taste, a palette spilled on the floor.

No—back in the erased line, others called her Dr Ika first, and she was unhappy. So black-history me had better taste than canon me, a crooked mirror with cleaner glass.

“Haha. Tonight I’m eating grilled squid.” The decision rang, a chopsticks tap on porcelain.