Yekase drifted down behind Ling Yi, light as a falling leaf.

Then her hands clamped Ling Yi’s shoulders, sudden as talons.

“—Waaao?!”

Ling Yi sprang like a startled cat. “Doctor! You scared me to death!”

She was still in her Blade Armor, visor shoved halfway up, holding a cup thick as milk tea, sticky as paste.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, after we chased off the fighters, the milk tea shop uncle gave me this,” she said, cheer bright as a lantern.

“That’s nice… so what is it?”

“Matcha milk green with coconut jelly, boba pearls, taro balls, cookie crumbs, and—”

“Stop, stop! I get it! No need!”

Yekase threw both hands up like a referee cutting the bell.

She glanced around and didn’t see Lu Yao’s silhouette, like a sparrow missing from a wire. “Where’s A-Ping? She was guiding me.”

“I also ordered you a Passion Fruit Double Blast,” Ling Yi said, lifting a paper bag like a gift and handing it over.

“Thanks,” Yekase said, a small smile spreading like dawn.

“A-Ping said I’m too loud and went to find a corner to clear her head,” Ling Yi added, voice trailing like smoke.

“Mm… sounds exactly like her,” Yekase sighed, wry as autumn wind.

Lu Yao’s scars ran long and deep, like roots under stone. Hoping she’d switch overnight wasn’t just foolish. It could cut her twice. By now, their progress had already outrun Yekase’s plans.

Ling Yi sipped her tea, conscience pricking like a thorn. “Doctor, is it really okay to chill here? Yaya messaged me—Fang Tang hacked Emerald Pool’s outer comms, and the upper floors are fighting…”

“From what I remember of the Iron Seven’s bite, if they aren’t loafing at base, Twin Towers reinforcements won’t get in,” Yekase said, calm as still water.

“What kind of heroes are the Iron Seven?”

“Long story,” Yekase murmured, letting her nerves uncoil like a bowstring. A stolen rest in the underground mall; a story offered like a lantern.

About twenty years ago, Twin Towers City hid a huge underground coliseum called the Disc Arena. It was a Roman echo beneath neon. A corner steeped in blood and gambling, dark as a pit.

From that unadulterated hell, the ten strongest gladiators clawed their way out. They were granted the honor “the Iron Ten” and their freedom, bright as sunrise after storm.

A golden road opened before them—buy shares in the arena, step into high society. But the Ten huddled in private. And then things broke.

The top-ranked, undefeated brute nicknamed the King lifted his arm before the other nine. “People born free stay free from first breath to last,” his shout rang like thunder.

His pull was too strong. Or maybe the nine simply couldn’t beat him. Either way, they rebelled, their choice sharp as a blade.

They seized the arena and made it their base, bold as pirates taking a fortress.

Back then, Twin Towers hadn’t taken the throne. Big orgs vying for the crown tore at each other, dust rising like sandstorms. Nobody bothered to rein them in. That’s how the Iron Ten were born.

Then it got simple. The Ten held ground. Ten alone couldn’t topple giants, so they pounded mid-tier groups like hammers on weak links. It carved a strange fault line into the city’s syndicates. The big fish watched with one eye open, one closed.

Then the One-Year War ignited like dry brush. Three of the Ten fell, names fading like stars at dawn.

The seven left carried nicknames like banners: the King, the Lily, the Duke, the Empress, the Bull, the Flying Fish, and the Captain.

“Wow… how do I say it… kinda cool,” Ling Yi breathed, tone floating like a feather. No sense of reality at all, like watching a gladiator film from the stands.

Yekase had been seven then, trundling a plastic tricycle through country dust. Of course she felt none of it, memory thin as mist.

But it didn’t stop the two of them from holding the Iron Ten in awe, reverence deep as a temple bell.

Remember, that was twenty years ago—Shadow Curtain International still held tight reins, and “hero” was a word you needed courage to pronounce, heavy as iron.

…Well, Yekase’s awe was a bit lighter. She’d fought aliens, after all, a grin crooked as a crescent.

They walked more than half a street. Then they saw the record shop where Yekase had bought a disc not long ago, familiar as a looped trail.

After an hour of running in zigzags, they’d circled back, footsteps spiraling like a maze.

Ling Yi’s sharp eyes snagged a silhouette. “A-Ping? Is that A-Ping?” Her voice pointed like an arrow.

“Huh? She said she wanted quiet. Why would she browse a record store—wait, seriously?” Yekase leaned to peek inside, curiosity bright as a firefly, and there Lu Yao was indeed.

She wore the store headphones, knees hugged, back to the shelf, a small island in the aisle. Eyes closed, sea-calm, not seeing the pair at the door.

They traded a glance and slipped in on tiptoes, shadows sliding like cats.

Ling Yi reached to tap her. Yekase caught her wrist, a shake of the head soft as snow. Don’t disturb. They sat nearby, breaths light as dust.

The headphone cable snaked into the wall, and a small screen played an MV, a classic record-store setup, glowing like a tiny stage. Yekase looked at the screen to see what song drew Lu Yao in.

I still remember “goodbye” leaving your lips, hard as iron.

In the dimness, it felt like a blazing sun scorching skin, a mirage of heat.

Two minutes drifted by like falling ash. Lu Yao slowly opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was Yekase on the far side of the aisle, smiling kindly, warm as a hearth.

“Am I only a winter window facing northwest?” Lu Yao asked, voice dry as wind.

“…That’s a different song,” Yekase said, a blink like a dropped bead.

She’d been waiting for panic or a blush, a ripple in still water. The reaction stayed flat. Kind of boring, a stone sinking without splash.

Yekase switched tracks. “I once heard this: dig a building too deep underground, and a lot of strange things happen,” she said, words drifting like a rumor.

Lu Yao frowned, a thin crease like a knife mark, unsure why she’d bring this up, and too tired to bite.

“Urban legend?” Ling Yi asked, curiosity pricking like a thorn.

“Who knows. But in intern quarters deeper than here, and in fighter barracks below, I ran into things I couldn’t explain,” Yekase said, idle fingers playing with each other like pale fish. “Maybe it’s just my angle. Add one premise, and suddenly it all snaps into place.”

In places deeper than the intern zone and the barracks, something is hidden, cold as bedrock. And that something can catalyze Infinite Power in a way we don’t understand.

“…?” Lu Yao breathed a barely audible nasal sound, the first stir, like a ripple under ice.

“For example, it can force an average Mind Energy user up to officer level. It lets me use Magical Girl abilities before I transform. It gives an Infinite Power idiot a bit of affinity. And even—”

Yekase lifted her eyelids, and both Ling Yi and Lu Yao stiffened as if touched by frost.

In those autumn-water eyes, a dangerous, cutting light burned—predatory and invasive. She looked like a hunter who had waited ages in dead dark and finally saw the glimmer of possibility.

“—Even letting a shadow already ferried to the far shore of forgetting be seen again, a ghost caught in the lens.”

“I couldn’t help imagining. If you open the box and don’t see a living cat, beyond ‘the cat died,’ is ‘the cat escaped’ an option? I never dared hope for something that foolish. But if it’s true—”

Yekase braced a hand on the shelf and stood, excitement trembling in her tone like a bird about to take flight.

“—Then it means her effort and mine, and one other person’s, weren’t completely wasted, embers still warm.”

Ling Yi remembered the Magical Girl in the deep-sea ruins, blue as the abyss. And the Magical Girl who vanished in Yekase’s arms, a light going out.

Suddenly, she understood. Yekase’s body had walked forward along time. Her heart stayed parked nine years back, frozen like a winter pond.

In that moment, Ling Yi couldn’t dodge the question she’d kept ducking: How old is Yekase?

She sensed it in a haze. The world likely doesn’t have an eight-year-old prodigy who can craft a Magical Girl system and run squad logistics, high and low, like twin wheels.

Which means—the Doctor lied.

The Doctor who handed her the Flashblade System and taught her what hero means; strong, confident, clever, with a fragile side that’s cute as a kitten; the Doctor who told her, “Go do what you believe is right.”

Turns out our bond hasn’t grown deep enough to hold a shared secret, a sealed jar.

Ling Yi’s breath stuttered, a string pulled taut.

She didn’t know the name of the feeling rising inside her. She only felt herself standing on a boundless dark plain, and everything around her racing away like cosmic inflation.

“—Ling Yi?”

That voice called her name from under the hood of dark, a lighthouse beam.

She came back to the little record shop of the underground city, neon glowing like algae.

Yekase bent to look at her, half-smile curled like a crescent.

Ling Yi flinched and turned her face away, as if spooked deer. She tried to rise and run, but still stole a glance at Yekase below the brow, shy as a moonbeam.

The air felt strange, a pressure like before rain.

Lu Yao had no idea what had passed between them, and she wasn’t one to meddle. She settled the headphones back on, cocooning herself, a silent bystander.

“Doctor.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m… about to be mad,” she said, words puffing like steam.

“…Huh? Why?”

Ling Yi flipped her visor open and puffed her cheeks. “Because you hide everything from me. Because you tell me nothing,” she said, anger small but bright, like a burning coal.

Yekase’s smile locked, a mask hardening like glaze.

“Uh… that’s…”

“Even if I wouldn’t get it, would telling me really have heavy consequences?”

“Not really…”

“Not really what? ‘Ling Yi is a dummy, talking to her is useless’—that’s what you think. I know,” she said, words sharp as ice.

…Caught.

Yekase looked embarrassed, scratching her head, eyes skittering like minnows.

“So I’m going to be mad. The fight isn’t over. When we get home, I’m going to be properly angry,” she declared, a banner planted.

“Is that a warning?”

“It’s a warning.”

Pfft.

Yekase knew she should apologize now, but laughter bubbled up anyway, light as soda.

“You’re laughing! You’re not taking me—”

“—Then I’ll say it. Me, Yekase. Twenty-seven. Twin Towers Industrial University, B.S. in Electrical Automation. Joined the One-Year War in freshman year, logistics lead of the Twenty Second Squad. After graduation, joined Unrecognized Consortium X, R&D. Six years later, I resigned—dumped every honor to stick with you and be a hero.”

“Eh?”