Atsuko found him sitting on a desk in a ruined classroom, untouched by the Engineering Department. Dust and ruins of tables and chairs flipped all over, the faculty's desk being the one thing altered. Instead of it being flipped upside down, it was now upright, with Kize sitting on it. The renovations to Arius Satellite School had been extensive, the pipes throughout and outside of the school grounds concluding that this may take longer than the initial estimations of two days.

Kize mentioned about a pending approval of a self-repair sentry cannon. He made a wordless suggestion.

They redoubled their efforts.

"... Sensei."

It's that odd tone she took again that caused Kize to give off an unreadable reaction. And yet, despite his eyes and hands focused towards the screen of his tablets, the smallest movement of his head told Atsuko everything.

"I..." She trailed off. The words lingered in her tongue for a while, before she spoke again. "Thank you."

His fingers stilled. Atsuko watched him blink slowly, as if processing it before slowly turning his head to face her. He spoke nothing, not even a single word. His eyes observed. Not with warmth, but with the same quiet neutrality he gave everything. The same stare he just typically give for so many others.

Atsuko's voice was barely above a whisper. "For helping us. Even though we didn't deserve it."

Kize exhaled through his nose, turning back to the beam. "You're students."

Atsuko blinked. "That's... it?"

He didn't answer.

She stepped closer, her boots scuffing against the debris. "The others—they don't say it. But they're grateful too. Even if they don't show it."

Kize's expression didn't change. "Doesn't matter."

Atsuko's chest tightened. "It does."

For the first time, Kize paused. He looked at her—really looked at her—and Atsuko realized with a start that his eyes weren't empty. Just... tired.

"...You're kind," he said finally.

Atsuko stiffened. "I--I'm not."

Kize didn't argue. He just tilted his head slightly, as if considering something. Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched. Not a smile. Just... acknowledgment.

Atsuko's face burned. She looked away. "I just... wanted you to know. That's all."

Kize nodded once. "Noted."

Atsuko lingered a moment longer, then turned to leave.

Behind her, Kize spoke again, so quiet she almost missed it.

"...Keep that heart, Atsuko."

She froze.

When she looked back, he seemingly disappeared. The corner of her eye saw him slide close the other door that leads in and out of the classroom. And so, she stood there, alone in the ruined classroom, and for the first time in a long time...

She didn't feel so lost.

———

In another part of the school was a chapel of some sort.

The chapel stood at the edge of the ruins, its hollowed-out frame barely holding up the weight of its own collapse. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the scent of damp stone.

Misaki sat on the remnants of an overturned pew, her back against the wall, one knee drawn up. Bandages peeked out from under her sleeves, wrapped tight around her wrists. A rusted knife rested loosely in her fingers, its edge dull from disuse. The groaning noise of the door came to be, one that she ignored. Or rather didn't find herself bothering to look up to acknowledge.

Footsteps. Slow. Unhurried.

She didn't care enough to acknowledge them.

Then... Silence.

She flicked her gaze up, her lifeless eyes staring up to that tired look. Kize stood a few paces away, hands in his pockets, watching her with the same detached focus he gave everything. No pity. No expectation. Just a silent, quiet observation. Misaki let out a quiet breath through her nose and looked away. "If you're here to give some speech about purpose," she muttered, "don't bother."

Kize didn't react. "Not here to talk."

"Then leave."

He didn't. And, while annoyance is something she was used to having (no thanks to Sensei), Misaki's fingers twitched around the knife. "What do you want?"

Kize tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question. With how he looked at her even, he may have had some unspoken questions without meaning to. Then, simply: "You're wasting time."

Misaki's lips curled, just barely. "And?"

"Arius needs security."

She barked a dry laugh. "So?"

"You're good at it."

Silence.

Misaki stared at him. His expression didn't change. No persuasion. No false praise. Just a statement.

She exhaled, sharp. "Nothing matters. You know that, right?"

Kize didn't blink. "Doesn't have to."

Misaki's grip on the knife tightened. For a moment, she looked like she might throw it. Then... Nothing. Her hand went slack again.

"...Why me?"

Kize shrugged. "You're here."

Misaki's eyes narrowed. "That's it?"

"That's it."

Another stretch of quiet. The chapel's broken windows let in thin strips of fading light, casting jagged shadows across the floor.

Misaki leaned her head back against the wall. "...Fine."

Kize didn't move.

She glanced at him, voice flat. "What?"

"Now or never."

Misaki held his gaze for a long moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she pushed herself up. The knife clattered to the ground. She didn't pick it up.

Kize turned and walked out.

Misaki followed.

No grand realization. No sudden change of heart.

Just a choice.

——

The abandoned library of Arius Satellite School smelled of mildew and old paper. Sunlight bled weakly through the cracked windows, illuminating floating dust motes in the air.

Hiyori sat curled in a corner, knees drawn to her chest, her fingers nervously picking at the frayed edges of a ruined magazine. When the door creaked open, she flinched, pressing herself further into the shadows.

"...Go away." Her voice was small, muffled against her knees.

Kize stepped inside, his footsteps silent on the warped floorboards. He didn't approach immediately, instead scanning the collapsed bookshelves and water-stained walls. Hiyori peeked up through her bangs.

"I-I said--"

"These need sorting."

She blinked. Kize was holding out a stack of slightly damp but salvageable books.

"W-what?"

"Library's a mess." He stated it like a simple fact, placing the books on the least unstable-looking table. "You read."

Hiyori's hands trembled around her ruined magazine. "I-I'm no good at this sort of thing! I'll just mess it up like everything else and--"

"Then mess it up."

She froze.

Kize pulled another stack of books from a toppled shelf, brushing off the dust. "Doesn't have to be perfect. Just has to be done."

Tears pricked at Hiyori's eyes. "B-but what if I--"

"You'll do fine."

She stared at him, lips trembling. Kize didn't offer comforting smiles or empty reassurances. He simply... believed. As if it were that simple.

Hiyori wiped her nose with her sleeve, looking at the books. "...They're all water damaged."

"Some are salvageable."

"...The catalog system is probably ruined."

"We'll make a new one."

"...I-I might cry if it gets too hard."

Kize shrugged. "Then cry."

A strange sound escaped Hiyori's throat - something between a sob and a laugh. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached for the nearest book. Her fingers still shook, but they turned the pages with surprising care.

Kize watched for a moment, then turned to leave.

"W-wait!" Hiyori called out. When he glanced back, she clutched the book to her chest. "...Thank you... I think."

He nodded once. "Get to work."

As the door closed behind him, Hiyori found herself carefully smoothing out a crumpled page. The sunlight through the broken windows seemed just a little brighter.

——

The rooftop of the partially reconstructed Arius Satellite School offered a clear view of the surrounding district. Broken buildings, patched-up streets, and the distant glow of Kivotos' central districts. The wind carried the scent of fresh concrete and old smoke. And with how bright everything was down below, with students from the Engineering Department making the absolute most of their material and the Arius students holding themselves quite well, in relative to the engineers, perhaps it can be done in just a shorter period of time.

Saori stood at the edge, hands clasped behind her back, surveying the terrain with the sharp, calculating gaze of a soldier. She didn't turn when the rooftop door creaked open.

"You're late," she said flatly.

Kize stepped beside her, following her line of sight. "Had things to do."

Saori's jaw tightened. "We all do."

Silence stretched between them, the kind that wasn't quite hostile but wasn't comfortable either. The wind tugged at Saori's coat, at Kize's sleeves.

Finally, Kize spoke. "You're taking point."

Saori's gaze flicked to him. "On?"

"Arius."

A pause. Then, a sharp exhale through her nose. "You're not asking."

"No."

Saori turned fully toward him now, arms crossed. "And if I refuse?"

Kize met her eyes. "You won't."

For a moment, something flickered in Saori's expression. Irritation, maybe. Or frustration. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, smoothed back into that soldier's composure.

"You don't know that."

Kize shrugged. "Do I need to?"

Saori's fingers dug into her arms. "This isn't a game. Arius isn't just some project to be fixed. We're--"

"Students," Kize finished.

That gave her pause.

He continued, voice even. "You're good at leading. They listen to you. Doesn't have to be more complicated than that."

Saori stared at him, searching for something. Anything. Doubt, hesitation, some sign that this was just another manipulation. But Kize's expression didn't waver.

Slowly, she uncrossed her arms. "...You're infuriating."

"Noted."

A beat. Then, begrudgingly: "What exactly are you expecting from me?"

"Keep them alive. Keep them moving." Kize turned back toward the cityscape. "Rest is up to you."

Saori exhaled sharply. For the first time, something like amusement—or maybe resignation—colored her tone. "That's it?"

"That's it."

Silence again. The wind picked up, carrying the distant sound of construction from below.

Then, quietly, Saori said, "...Fine."

Kize nodded once.

Saori turned away, but not before adding, voice low but firm: "But if this goes wrong... If I fail them--"

"You won't."

She stiffened.

Kize didn't look at her. "Because you're Saori."

For a long moment, Saori didn't respond. Then, with a scoff that lacked any real bite, she muttered, "...Bastard."

Kize didn't argue.

When she strode past him toward the door, her steps were steady, purposeful.

——

The Arius reconstruction was nearly complete. The skeletal remains of the school now stood upright, its halls patched, its lights humming steadily—miraculously functional, if not yet whole. Kize moved through the corridors like a ghost, his presence as unobtrusive as the evening shadows stretching long across the floor. Sparks of interest came to be from many of the students. Few wondered what they could eat for dinner later, some others discussing about their cleaning tactics and its efficiency, and others wondering how it's like to have recreational activities other than just guns and hand to hand combat.

All without Kize's hand of influence.

Then he heard it. The sound of something breaking.

A classroom at the end of the hall, door slightly ajar. Inside, a girl—no older than a first-year—stood amidst shattered glass, her fists clenched at her sides. Her uniform was too large for her frame, her sleeves frayed at the edges. The bandages around her wrists were fresh. He didn't blink. Couldn't afford to. It was simply a little girl.

Kize stepped inside.

The girl whirled, eyes wild. "Get out."

He didn't. Never planned to. Instead, he knelt, picking up a piece of broken glass and setting it aside. His lack of gloves would have been a cause of concern, but in truth, he didn't care.

"You're going to cut your feet."

She flinched, as if the words were a physical blow. "I told you to leave!"

Kize studied her. Not the anger; that was surface noise. It was the tremor in her hands, the way her breath hitched just slightly when she spoke. He'd seen it before. In the mirror.

"You're one of Beatrice's," he said, tone neutral. Whispers of the previous adult, the one who brainwashed Arius into the cycle of violence, caught up to him in record time. Plana and Arona had already filled him in on her influence. And he can see the result before his very eyes.

The girl's lips curled. "And you're the Replacement." She spat the title like an insult. "What, here to finish the job? To fix me?"

Kize didn't react. "Do you want to be fixed?"

"There's nothing to fix!" Her voice cracked. "You don't... You don't get it. I deserve this. All of it. The pain, the-- the mess--" She gestured violently at the wreckage around her. "I believed in her. I hurt people for her. And now you-- you just walk in and pretend it never happened?!"

Silence. His hands, still in his pocket, clenched. He felt like he was tested. But he calmed himself. Couldn't show his hand early, couldn't show himself clearly. And so, Kize exhaled slowly. Then, to her shock, he sat down on the floor, right there in the middle of the glass.

"...What are you doing?"

"Waiting."

"For what?"

"You to realize I'm not leaving."

The girl stared at him. Disbelief written across her face as she stared even more. Her hands shook harder, her teeth clenched together as she contained her feelings as much as she humanly could.

Kize? Kize didn't reach out. Didn't offer empty platitudes. Just sat there, a silent anchor in the storm of her fury. He didn't move, he didn't change his expression. The same neutral look, the same, utterly, borderline cold look that could unnerve even the most optimistic individuals.

Minutes passed. The girl's breathing slowed, her shoulders slumping. When she spoke again, her voice was small. "...Why do you even care?"

And Kize...

Kize, who never spoke of himself, who had spent mere days letting others project onto his blank slate...

Answered.

"Because someone should have."

The girl froze. She realized it was the same echo he gave in the first day. And yet... It was different here somehow. But then he spoke further, his voice quiet, rough at the edges.

"You're right. I don't get it. I don't know what you've done. But I know what it's like to think you deserve to drown." He met her gaze. "And I know it's a lie."

A tear slipped down the girl's cheek. Then another.

Kize didn't move to wipe them away.

Slowly, hesitantly, the girl sank to the floor beside him, glass crunching under her knees. She didn't speak. Didn't apologize. Just sat there, crying silently, her bandaged wrists pressed to her chest.

And Kize...

Kize, who so far, had shown himself as nothing but a ghost, appearing and disappearing at any given task to anyone ever...

Stayed.

His expression stilled, as a memory of a... Something came to his mind.

"I can't do any better."

"Then do what you can."

Odd.

When Saori found them some time later, the girl was asleep, her head slumped against Kize's shoulder. He didn't explain. Didn't have to.

Saori simply nodded, her expression softer than he'd ever seen it, and left them be.