The third day—like dawn laying down its third pale ribbon.

Also the second-to-last day before school, the calendar shedding a tired leaf.

Yekase finally got her limbs back. She yanked every toy out with a cork-pop, so embarrassed she almost headbutted herself into oblivion.

She wanted to smash the three sinful things that had been skin-close with her for two days and nights, but they’d been tended by her own hands. Like Buddha feeding an eagle with his own flesh, her compassion dulled the hammer.

“Stash them first... Getting the new Sky Striker form out matters more.” Her mood steadied like a lake at dusk; then she moved.

She threw on clothes and went straight back to the workshop—her rental flat, a swallow’s creaky eaves she called home.

By the way, she only realized today she’d been in a single room at a luxury hotel these two days. Rich people, such warm lamps and cold hearts.

Back in her comforting dump, she laid four Flashblade Keys in a row on the table. Cables snaked to the computer like ivy. She rewired by the plan she’d sketched these two days—integrate, slim down.

First, cut the echoes. The old model duplicated boot and motion routines four times so Sky Striker could run split. Now she trimmed it to one, like pruning branches. The freed space housed a core for form conversion.

Second, unify the armaments. Kagari and Dew had no proprietary weapons. Gale had floating armor and an electromagnetic cannon. Gauntlet was even wilder, lugging four mechanical arms on her back. As independent forms, the mismatched loadouts read as character; shove them into one module and the chip swings between overload and idle like a seesaw in wind. Memory footprints had to be brought into harmony.

Third, a new form design—ironically the easiest. While she lay like a corpse, she spun it up in ten minutes, like a peony opening on spring rain.

Ten fingers skimmed the keys like swallows skirting water. Lines of code were summoned, updated, erased. The wall clock made orbit after orbit, a pale moon pacing the night.

“Done!” She struck Enter with a jade-like finger, the crisp clack ringing like a bell. Then a cautious ctrl+s—save confirmed, window closed. Calm first, action next.

She raised the original Kagari Key high, like a trainer who’d just caught a rare beast.

The other three on the desk lost power and dimmed, lying there like spent embers. Their sacrifice wasn’t in vain—every form’s data was loaded into the Kagari Key, now renamed the Terminal, a seed carrying a whole forest.

Not only did it hold them all, it even had a new form grafted in!

Only Yekase knew how she crammed four forms into one zip and tossed in fresh DLC, like packing clouds into a bottle.

That’s the power of lightness—weightless as autumn air, sharp as a crane’s cry.

Not to brag, but she felt her logic’s clarity and her circuit’s simplicity could line up for Guinness, like glass so clean it vanished.

One phone call brought Ling Yi over; the first field test began in that shabby nest.

“Activation phrase unchanged?” Her heart lifted like a kite before the words came.

“No. Didn’t want to trip you.” Calm first, then the nod.

“Good!” She squared her shoulders, wind under her feet. She lifted the Key with a flare. “Flashblade Activation!”

“Starry Sky Striker ACE!”

“ZEROS!”

Steam—no more steam. Countless red lines swept around her like comet trails. When the red faded like embers in snow, the armor was already on.

And the Key hadn’t finished its chant.

“Huh? When did it snap on?” Her surprise fluttered like a sparrow.

“I sped up the transformation. Saw a hero on TV transform too slow and get exposed.” Her voice stayed smooth as a riverstone.

“Isn’t transformation invincible by default?” The complaint had a child’s rain-cloud pout.

“No such default.” The reply was dry as bamboo.

She’d have to teach her basic hero rules soon. Yekase didn’t want laziness now to sprout thorns later, with Ling Yi turning into another Jiang Bailu coming back to bite her.

Only then did Ling Yi notice—the armor wasn’t red.

Not green, blue, or yellow either.

It was silver braided with white, winter light woven into steel.

Black edging traced the joints. Everywhere else shone in silver-white, like a knight’s plate under moonlight.

It looked... like a templar, a chapel in steel.

“This... this is...” Her awe rose like mist.

“Flashblade System v2.1. Registered as ‘Starry Sky Striker’.” The name rang like a bell over mountains.

“Starry Sky...” Ling Yi echoed, her voice a pebble skipping water.

“Switch forms by calling each form’s name. This white ‘ZERO’ form has its edge. It’s almost a blank board with no additives, so its adaptation to Infinite Power is the highest. It won’t rampage. It can even help you steer Mind Energy, like reins on a wild horse.”

“The Flashblade Maneuver is named ‘Luminous Infinity’. Its effect matches that jet-wing we used in training—push out the Infinite Power you don’t need like smoke venting. With pressure, you can swap to a chest cannon for damage, a moonbeam turned lance.”

“Whoa... an arcane cannon!” Her eyes sparkled like stars.

“You’re gonna use dual-color fire anyway even if I tell you not to. So I’ll set the safety net on my end.” Yekase’s tone was a willow branch.

“Sorry.” Ling Yi’s head dipped, a sapling in rain.

“The rest of the forms work like before. Your short-term target—learn Dew’s basic interference. Stop silencing yourself. Gauntlet can wait.” Her words tapped like rain on tiles.

“G‑got it...” Her head lowered almost ninety degrees, like a bow.

A hand settled on her hair, gentle as a breeze through reeds. “That fight against the fusion mech—good work. Rest these two days. Prep for school.” Warmth first, then the pat.

“...And you, Doctor?” The question edged out like a timid fish.

“Me? What?” A blink in clear water.

“Still not going back to school?” Hope clung like dew.

“No.” The answer fell like a dry leaf.

“A school-hating, social-phobic, shut-in tech nerd!” The tease crackled like thunder.

“Yeah, yeah.” A shrug, bamboo bending but unbroken.

Argue with her and you lose; it’s a tide that won’t turn. “I heard your status got held back to sophomore for a full year without attendance. Same grade as Yaya now.”

“Let it stay there forever.” Her tone was stone.

“Then call me senpai.” A grin like sunlight.

“Senpai.” A quick bow, a wry smile.

“You gave up that fast! Hate school that much—so why go to high school after junior high?” The question fluttered like a butterfly.

“Half‑price on student tickets.” The answer was a pebble plunk.

“That’s so lame!” Laughter burst like firecrackers.

Today’s persuasion failed again. Ling Yi had wanted a ‘Heroes Club’, to rope her sister and the Doctor into a play circle, a little galaxy of capes.

She cradled the new Flashblade Key like an ember and muttered her way home.

“Mmm—” Yekase exhaled long, fog leaving a valley. She stretched and dropped onto the bed like a falling leaf. These days, she’d worried about her body’s changes—mostly the parts below; about reworking Sky Striker; about ZEROS’s identity. Her body had healed like grass after rain, but her mind felt dusk-tired.

No weird trinkets plugged in. No eyes watching. No one ready to barge in. No weird trinkets plugged in. Silence, rare as a snowless winter.

“What to do... Right, I’ve been traveling. Haven’t logged in for ages...” Her mood lifted like a lantern; then she acted.

She booted the computer, waking it like tapping a sleepy turtle. She opened the game. Too rusty to carry, she picked an easy dungeon and slid into a random party.

[Pure‑White Konata: Fan of Flashblade Red?] A line popped in party chat like a carp breaking water.

Uh? Why bring up Flashblade Red... She glanced at her own ID.

[Flashblade Hime].

...Uh. Who set that? Fine. Probably her.

[Flashblade Hime: d4] She sensed replies would spiral like vine and briar, so she played deaf.

[Pure‑White Konata: That time at the amusement park, head‑on against a big org—that was so cool. Voice sounded cute too. Even without a face, you can tell she’s a beauty! An angel, right? Sent by heaven to save this rotten world?] Even ignored, he kept typing—text falling like autumn leaves.

[Tomoyo Daidouji: d1]

[Yorihime Watatsuki: Your purity still can’t match the Sword of Yuri.]

[Pure‑White Konata: Yuri Swords are all girl address books! They digest internally. Tough luck for us poor guys.] ...

[Flashblade Hime: If you’re not running, can we kick?]

[Pure‑White Konata: White whale got mad.] System: Pure‑White Konata has been removed from the party.

The chat paused like wind holding its breath. The leader drawled after: [Yuxiu: Sorry, me too.]

Grass. The empty slot filled quick. Yekase’s warmed-up fingers danced, positioning and DPS crisp as flint sparks. The run cleared without a hitch, smooth as a river.

Well, she’d been an early vanguard with full BIS gear anyway. Satisfied, she quit the game and went to the bathroom to pass her first waste in three days, a stone rolling out of a gourd. She’d rushed her “discharge” this morning and hadn’t even washed her face... Do it now, rinse like rain.

“...?” In the mirror, something looked off, like a cloud snagged on pine.

“My hair, before...” She pinched her bangs, checked from all angles, eyes crossing like two sparrows mid-flight.

“Did I always have this red streak?” Who dyed it? No, impossible. Professor F wouldn’t be that idle.

She slid fingers to the roots. Red all the way, a thread sewn through. She let it fall. In the center of her black long hair, above her brow, a lone red plume stood, stubborn as a phoenix feather.

It screamed hot-blooded anime protagonist, a sunflare in midnight.

“Uwah... If I go to school like this, the homeroom teacher will force me to dye it back... Oh, I don’t go to school. Then it’s fine.” Relief settled like snow.

No visible pros or cons. Chalk it up as Flash Energy’s beauty buff on the body, a glaze over jade. It was late. She’d swing by Ling Yi’s to mooch dinner, then sleep. Jacket on like armor.

“Mining the firelight of my flesh—” That ringtone belonged to Professor F, a spark in the dark.

“Hello?” She flicked on speaker, dressing as she spoke, motions neat as folding paper. “What’s up?”

[I found ZEROS’s tracks online.] “Wha—” Found. Online. The erased, sighted again—her heart pricked like a thorn.

“Where, what state?” [Several people say they saw a man in alleys these two days, throwing blue fire and beating up punks.] “Uh, maybe a would-be hero...” Her doubt drifted like mist.

[He says a fixed line before each hit.] “That’s very hero. Very tokusatsu.” The thought flashed like chrome.

[The line is, ‘To take you down, I won’t even need one second.’] The words fell like frost.

She fastened her buttons, casual as tapping rain. “Sounds cool. How’s that tied to ZEROS?” [If he doesn’t need 1 s, isn’t that 0 s?]

“Hm? What 0—” 0 s. Wait. No way. 0 s—ZEROS. The pun clicked like a pebble in a bamboo tube.

“This pun... kinda good, huh.” Her smile curved like a moon.