EPISODE ONE: THE VERY FIRST MASSACRE

Location: southern headquarters, Tokyo
Time: 9:00 pm
Date: 28th July, 3020 . . . .

Shibuyu stood at attention, the heavy black robe feeling less like a uniform and more like a second skin tonight. She could feel the weight of the fabric, the subtle shift of it against her shoulders as she breathed.

"All the high-ranking members are here, Commander."

Her voice was low, a controlled frequency meant for his ears only, yet it carried the unwavering certainty of a soldier.

The man didn't turn. He remained a silhouette against the only wide window in the room, the black of his robe absorbing the low light. When he spoke, his voice was a quiet rumble, like distant thunder on a still night.

"Alright, Shibuyu."

A pause. A single, slow breath. He finally half-turned, the light catching the sharp line of his jaw, the tired set of his mouth.

"Inform the teams."

"Commander," Shibuyu saluted crisply before exiting the dimly lit room, her form disappearing into the shadows beyond.

The door hissed shut behind Shibuyu, sealing the room back into its tense silence. It was Hecto who broke it, his voice cutting through the dim light with practiced clarity.

"Commander, the front line has spotted enemies. There are eight of them. D type."

Kisuke didn't look away from the tactical display shimmering in the air before him. A slow, dry smile touched his lips. "Oh? Looks like they are underestimating us." His eyes flicked up, decisive. "Inform the main units to take position. Arrange long-range rifles."

"Already ready, Commander." Hecto's confidence wasn't boastful; it was a simple statement of fact. A craftsman confirming his tools were sharp. "We wait for your command."

Kisuke's grin widened, a genuine flash of white in the gloom. "Oh? Aren't you an amazing officer, Hecto."

"Commander." Hecto's salute was sharp, a quick, proud jerk of his chin.

The door slid open again. Shibuyu stood framed in the doorway, her hand raised. "Commander, they are approaching us."

"No time to waste, then." Kisuke's voice lost all its playful edge, becoming a blade. "Send unit UA. We will finish this off quickly and report to the headquarters with absolutely no casualties."

Hecto shifted his weight, a barely perceptible crease forming on his brow. "Commander? Those elite members against D type. Isn't it a waste? And what was the use of preparing long-range rifles if they were to fight?"

Kisuke finally turned from the display, his expression one of mild, almost lazy amusement. "Oh? Now, Hecto, those preparations were made for the worst-case scenarios. Just in case the UA unit were to fail."

Hecto looked down, muttering almost to himself. "Their failing is practically impossible, Commander."

"Oh yes. You are right." Kisuke chuckled, a low, rough sound. "That damn captain of the UA unit is too full of himself, yeah? Certainly, we have nothing to fear about."

A new voice, haughty and smooth as polished glass, sliced through the air from the doorway. "You called us, Commander of the SA unit?"

Semen turned slowly. "Oh yes. If it isn't Awara, Commander of the UA unit."

The two men regarded each other across the unlit room, the air growing cold between them. Their titles were not honors here; they were barbs, dipped in a shared history of contempt.

Awara stepped forward, and the light from the viewport finally caught him. It illuminated a sharp, arrogant jawline and eyes that held a cold, unblinking challenge as they locked with Kisuke's.

"Yes, Kisuke." Awara gave a slight, performative bow, the gesture so saturated with mockery it was almost an insult.

A muscle twitched in Kisuke's jaw. "I hope your team 9 is here." The words were ground out, his narrowed gaze a physical pressure.

"Of course," Awara said, his lips twisting into a taunting smirk. He didn't need to turn. He simply raised a hand, and two figures detached themselves from the deeper shadows of the corridor.

"Well, Kagaro. Yone." Awara's voice was a lazy, confident drawl. "Prepare for battle formation 4. These are only D types, so try not to enjoy yourselves too much. Finish it quickly."

One of the shadows moved. A single, fluid step that brought him into the dim light of the room.

"Yes Commander," Kagaro's voice was a clipped, formal thing. His salute to Awara was a sharp, precise motion, but as his hand fell, his eyes—just for a fraction of a second—flicked toward Kisuke. It was a look full of respect, assessing curiosity, before he turned and vanished into the hall. The second figure, a silent specter under a dark cloak, flowed after him without a sound.

The moment they were gone, the space between the two captains seemed to shrink. Awara closed the distance, not looking at Kisuke but staring out the wide-open window. The cold night air swept in, carrying the distant, metallic scent of the front gates of JEO.

"Quite the view your office has," Awara murmured, his voice low. "You can almost see the disappointment on their faces from here."

Kisuke's reply was a low hum in his throat, a sound of pure, undiluted irritation.

The tense silence was shattered by the hissed opening of the door. A man stood there, his uniform perfectly in order but his face a mess of frayed nerves. Anxiety was etched into the lines around his mouth and eyes like cracks in glass.

"Their numbers are growing, Commander," he blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. He took a hurried step into the room, his boots sounding too loud on the floor. "The scouts have updated the count—they now outnumber our forward units by an eight-to-five ratio." His eyes were wide, fixed on Kisuke, waiting for a command, for anything to quell the panic rising in his voice.

"But they are only D type, correct?" Kisuke's voice was tight, his brows drawn together as he sought confirmation, his eyes locked not on the junior agent, but on Awara.

Awara met his gaze, a slow, infuriating smirk spreading across his face. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. His look was a masterpiece of rivalry and contempt, dripping with amusement at Kisuke's visible concern over what he clearly considered cannon fodder.

Kisuke clicked his tongue, a sharp, bitter sound of pure frustration. He could feel Awara's silent laughter like a physical touch.

"Well, yes Commander, but—" Dori tried to interject, his voice thin and tentative, wavering on the edge of panic.

Kisuke's head snapped toward him, his patience evaporating. "Back off if you can't even handle the D types, Agent Dori." The words were a lash, his voice rising, sharpened by his own irritation with Awara and the situation. "I give you permission to retire and lead your life peacefully. The front gate is that way."

The color drained from Dori's face. He stiffened, his shoulders hunching as if struck. "N-no Commander... I'm-I'm sorry..." he stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush of regret and shame. "I will always commit to JEO as an agent, Commander. I shall take my leave now. Pardon my incompetence."

With a bow so quick it was almost a flinch, Dori turned and all but fled from the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a sound that echoed in the heavy silence he left behind.

The air outside JEO headquarters tasted of copper and burnt powder. A wave of black cloaks surged forward, meeting the grotesque advance of the Jenemes. The scene was a brutal collage of movement and noise. Rifle fire wasn't a sound; it was a physical force, a constant, deafening roar that punched the air from your lungs. Bronze shell casings ejected in glittering arcs, clattering to the churned earth like metallic rain.

And then the wave broke. A cry, cut short. Another. Figures in black crumpled, their cloaks darkening with wet, ugly stains. The orderly line dissolved into a nightmare of stumbling retreat and desperate cover fire. Over fifty. The number wasn't a report; it was a reality written in blood on the ground.

Inside, the blue-lit corridor was a cold, silent tomb compared to the hell outside. The only sound was the frantic tap-tap-tap of Dori's boots as he paced.

"They just keep coming," he muttered to the sterile walls, his voice frayed. "They don't stop. They don't even care."

A sigh echoed from the shadows behind him. "And even with team nine out there."

Dori spun, his heart hammering against his ribs. The sight of Hecto's calm, weary face was a momentary balm.

Shibuyu joined them without a sound. Her face was a mask of grim exhaustion. With a sharp, frustrated motion, she ripped the heavy cloak from her shoulders, holding the fabric for a second as if it were a dead weight, then tossed it. It landed with a soft whump on a nearby rack, perfectly hung.

"Our weapons are a joke," she stated, her voice flat. The truth of it hung in the air.

"Lady Shibuyu." Both men dipped their heads, the formality a fragile attempt to maintain order.

She looked at them, her gaze stripping away their fear, leaving only the core of the problem. "There's only one plan left."

Dori's eyes were wide, pleading for an answer she couldn't give. "What is it?"

"Trust Kagaro." She said the name like it was a fever pill she had to swallow.

In the dim light, Hecto's voice was low and solid. "She's right, Dori."

"Kagaro is a child," Dori sighed, the words heavy with despair.

"That child," Shibuyu shot back, her tone leaving no room for argument, "commands a unit. He holds the line right now, not you."

Hecto put a firm hand on Dori's shoulder. "He's a Riyu. And a star-bearer. What other reason do we need?" The question wasn't for Dori. It was for all of them. Without another word, Hecto and Shibuyu turned and were swallowed by the corridor's deep shadows, leaving Dori alone with the echo of their faith.

The rooftop wind was cold, carrying the distant, ugly symphony of battle. Hecto's knuckles were white where he gripped the telescope. Shibuyu didn't need it; she could see the truth in the set of his shoulders. He stepped back, his face pale.

"They're just... lying there," he whispered.

Shibuyu stepped up, pressing her eye to the lens. The scene zoomed into horrifying clarity. Agents, their agents, her team too, were scattered across the mud like broken toys. Dark pools seeped from them into the earth. The ground glittered, not with dew, but with a carpet of spent brass.

Her finger tapped the sleek black comm in her ear. It clicked, a tiny sound of connection.

"Commander." Her voice was tight, a wire about to snap.

"Speak." Kisuke's response was immediate. Down in the dark room, he stood ramrod straight, his hands locked behind his back. Awara was a silent, brooding statue beside him.

She took a breath. "...I request backup." She waited for the cold rebuttal, the reminder of their pristine, no-casualty record.

A pause. A heartbeat of silence stretched thin. Then, his voice, lower now: "...are they alright?"

"Alive, Commander." It was the best she could offer.

"The ninth team is en route. Prepare the infirmary. Now." The order was sharp, all pretense of protocol gone.

"Understood, Commander." She was already moving, her boots a rapid tattoo on the stairwell concrete.

The infirmary doors exploded inward under her shoulder. What followed was not panic, but a terrifying, focused efficiency. Beds screeched across the floor as she yanked them into rows. Cabinets flew open, their contents—gauze, tourniquets, plasma bags—organized in a frantic, precise ballet. Her hands knew what to do even if her heart was screaming.

Back in the dark, Kisuke let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The words tasted like failure. "Looks like we're useless without you... Commander Awara."

Awara didn't smirk. He just looked at Kisuke, and for a fleeting moment, the rivalry was gone, replaced by the grim understanding of men staring into the same abyss. "We serve the same cause, Kisuke." The words were cryptic, empty, but they were all he had. He turned and left, the door sighing shut behind him.

Kisuke was alone. The weight of every decision pressed down on him.

CRASH.

The door shuddered on its hinges. In one fluid motion, Kisuke spun, sidearm drawn and leveled at the threat.

A young agent, his face a mess of tears and soot, stumbled in, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "The gates... Commander, the gates are down!"

Kisuke's face was granite. He tapped his earpiece, his finger hitting the button like a hammer strike. "Awara." It was a command. A surrender. A last, desperate bet. "I leave this to you...UA Commander"

In the dark of the corridor, Awara froze. The trust in Kisuke's voice was a physical blow, unexpected and disarming. He looked at the cigarette smoldering between his fingers. The cigarette he had hid within his cloak back in the room. With a grimace, he crushed the burning ember into his own palm. The sharp, familiar pain was an anchor. He ground the sore flesh against his teeth.

"He's at the point," Awara replied, his voice a gravelly steadiness he didn't feel, winning against Kisuke was just a friendly rivalry, but he never wanted him to sound defeated like this.

The field was a charnel house. The stink of alien blood and cordite was overwhelming. In the eye of the storm stood Kagaro Riyu.

"Listen up!" His voice shouldn't have carried that kind of weight, not from a frame so young. But it cut through the chaos, a blade of cold certainty. "Ninety-five D-types. You think you can pull it off?"

The answer wasn't a cheer. It was a synchronized, gloved fist striking twenty-five chests in unison. A silent, brutal promise.

They moved as one. Twenty-five figures checking the gear at their hips: small medical packs, twin handguns, pulling down night-vision glasses that turned their eyes into hollow, glassy orbs. Their uniforms were as it would be, dark, designed for the shadows.

All except Kagaro. On his wrist, a simple band gleamed under the night, five stars etched into its surface.

Beside him, Yone adjusted the knot on his bandana. The five stars there were glowing. At fourteen, his eyes held a darkness that belonged to men three times his age. He met Kagaro's glance and gave a single, sharp nod.

{JEO uniforms:

Commanders: (male and female)

Black jumpsuit with high collar and a black cloak along with badges on the chest area. Equipments include NVG, black waist bag and rifles. Black masks included.

Normal agents: (male and female)

Black jumpsuit with high collar and a black cloak. Equipments include NVG, black waist bag and hand guns. Black masks included.

Special agents: (male and female)

Black jumpsuit with high collar and a black cloak along with golden waistbands. Equipments include NVG, black waist bag and star badges. Black masks included. }

"Go, Yone-san! Now! I'll be right behind you."

Kagaro's voice was a blare in the chaos. Yone didn't nod. He just moved, spinning on his heel and darting toward the front. The squad was already locked in, a tight V of armored bodies and grim faces, all staring down the monstrous shadows thrashing beyond the JEO gates.

Yone's boots hovered, the roller balls a faint, familiar hum beneath his feet. He didn't look down.

"Eyes up!" he called out, his voice younger than Kagaro's, but no less steady. "Sightlines clear. Wait for my mark." The boy didn't speak much, usually shot commands that were full of fire.

With a soft grunt, he pushed off, the gear at his waist whirring as it launched him skyward. A dozen similar sounds followed—a chorus of mechanical sighs as the squad rose into the smoky air, weapons cycling to life.

From above, it was worse. The creatures were bigger, their wild, thrashing tails smashing craters into the pavement.

Yone's rifle snapped up to his shoulder, the stock cool against his cheek. He exhaled, his finger resting on the trigger. One creature, all rage and muscle, swung its head toward a damaged transport.

The crack of the shot was deafening. A silver flash, and the thing's eye exploded. The screech it let out wasn't just pained; it was raw, guttural, a sound that clawed at the ears.

Yone didn't flinch. "Open fire!"

The sky lit up, the steady thump-thump-thump of gunfire answering the creature's dying scream.

{ Special equipments designed for the purpose of exterminating JENEMES only:

1. Flying gear:

Use: helps a person fly in the air.

Appearance: a waist bag.

Working: a slight jump triggers it's ability to sense the urge to fly and sends the user soaring in the sky. Thinking of 'not flying' will help bring the owner back on ground.

Skills: there is a specific way to jump. Not any jump works on the gear and since this small action itself is specific, a harsh training is required for the same. Mental control is important too.

2. Grenade slots:

Use: store grenades (smoke or explosive)

Appearance: small pouches almost the size of a single finger. (usually stored in the pockets of the uniforms)

Working: miniature sized pouches when flipped and/or tossed in the air turn into a huge suitcase and then the grenades in there can be used freely. Tossing it again will bring it back to it's miniature size. It is risky to keep this equipment with you at all times and hence the size.

Skills: N/A

3. Roller shoes:

Use: helps fast travel on foot

Appearance: a metallic silver shoe with small roller balls underneath.

Working: the metal balls go against friction and skate the person ahead like almost as if they had teleported. Exact speed of the object is unknown yet some assume it to be 320 kmph (200 mph).

Skills: adjusting to as high a speed as possible to maintain body movements and postures and avoid fatal accidents. }

"Commander. Team Nine has opened high fire."

The voice crackled in Kisuke's ear, sharp and static-filled. Below, in the observatory which was his own room, his eyes were glued to the screens, to the chaos erupting at the gates. He let out a short, humorless laugh.

"Good news, Hecto. Finally. Let's hope it's our first victory."

Yone shot through the smoky air, the dowel from his gear retracting with a sharp whirr. He landed hard, skidding to a halt at the heart of the destruction. Jenemes, all gnashing teeth and thrashing limbs, were tearing through the last of the outer defenses.

He brought two fingers to the bandana tied across his forehead. His voice dropped, becoming something low and resonant, a chant that didn't seem to belong to him.

"Satar."

The five stars stitched into the fabric flared, a blinding white light that made the nearest creatures recoil. As the glare faded, a figure sat on the nearest tree, her form solidifying from the glow.

She was tall, draped in a white kimono that seemed to float around her like mist. Hair the color of a deep bruise fell down her back. Her face was pale, eerily smooth, hidden behind a curtain of bangs that left only the faint line of her mouth visible. Her hands were tucked inside her sleeves, her feet unseen. She was stillness. She was power.

Satar. A spirit. A star.

"Satar. Kronos." Yone's mutter was soft, almost a prayer.

In a blink, she was gone. In his hand lay a sickle, its curved blade gleaming with a cold, ancient light.

A scoff cut through the noise from behind him. "That's the famous secret weapon? A gardening tool?" Menane, one of his own unit, floated nearby, her rifle smoking.

Kagaro landed lightly beside her, a wide grin on his face. "You know what it can do, right, Menane?"

She smirked, not taking her eyes off Yone. "Thrill me, captain."

As if on cue, a Jeneme's wild swing smashed into the gate's dying pole. Yone, already moving, lost his footing. He plummeted, his free arm flailing, the sickle swinging wildly—clang—catching onto the other twin pole Kagaro had just been standing on. Yone dangled there, frustration burning on his face.

Menane let out a giggle. "Well, that was entertaining."

"He is your comrade. Show some sympathy," Kagaro chided, though he was laughing too.

With a grunt, Yone righted himself, planting one foot against the metal pole. He was a picture of focused irritation. His gear hummed. A dowel shot out, piercing the neck of a lunging Jeneme. The creature groaned, stumbling.

Yone was already moving, hitting the blue button on his gear. It launched him forward like a shot. He became a blur of motion, the sickle a silver arc. Each swing was precise, brutal. A head flew. Another. Bodies crashed to the ground.

"I am thrilled, captain," Menane called out, her voice now edged with real excitement. "But not enough."

"You will soon be, my lady." Kagaro gave a theatrical bow. He swiped two fingers across the armlet on his wrist. "Star Anisole!"

The air shimmered. A man appeared next to Kagaro. He looked... normal. A green jacket, red shirt, a black cap pulled low. He nodded to Kagaro, a polite, almost casual smile on his face.

Menane barked a laugh. "What a young star you have, captain. I'm amazed he still listens to you." Rumors. Oh how the rumors taint or praise anything. According the star myth, the younger a star is, the more disobedient it gets. But regardless, a rumor it was. For Anisol was possibly one of the most obedient stars to grace mankind.

"Let us show her just how obedient you are, Anisole."

The man—Anisole—melted away. In Kagaro's hand now was a long, sleek, black whip. Kagaro's smile turned sharp. He leaped into the fray, the whip cracking like thunder. It wrapped around a Jeneme's leg, and with a vicious tug, he ripped the creature clean off its feet.

Kisuke's voice was different now in Awara's ear. The confidence was gone, replaced by a hollow, weary tone.

"Any casualties?" Kisuke asked, his jaw tight.

"None yet. Let me confirm." He switched channels. "Menane! This is Commander Awara. Can you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Commander." Her voice was crisp, professional.

"Readings?"

"Positive, Commander. All sectors are covered."

"Break it down."

"Sector One: Kagaro and Yone. Sector Two: Lina and Hecto. Sector Three..."

"The battle readings, Menane. Now."

"Kagaro's rate is twenty-three seconds per kill in the air. Fifty-eight seconds on land."

"And Yone?"

A pause. A faint rustle of air in the earpiece. "Hard to get a clear reading with the instruments, Commander. He's... all over the place."

"Other sectors?"

"All secure. Their kill rates range from one minute twenty-three to one minute forty-eight seconds."

"Good. Keep this channel open."

The call died. Awara stared at the giant monitor, its red light washing over his grim face. He was in the room right below Kisuke's.

A new alert blared. His voice went out to every agent. "Front gate. Twenty-three incoming."

Below, Kagaro and Yone paused, chests heaving. Their weapons—sickle and whip—were stained dark.

"On my count, Yone. We separate. We finish this."

Yone just nodded, his knuckles white on the sickle's handle.

One.

Two.

Three.

They shot off in opposite directions, two streaks against a dark sky, meeting the new wave head-on.

Location: JEO Headquarters, Main Hall
Time: 10:45 PM
Date: July 28th

The hall was silent, packed with agents in stained uniforms. Kisuke stood on the central podium, a rare, genuine smile on his face.

"Agents," his voice echoed, proud and strong. "We are proud to announce our first victory against Jeneme today!"

✷_____________________✷

"It's the year 3015. And Japan has a new normal now. They call them Jenemes.

"Nobody knows where they came from, just what they want: us. Our emotions. Our strength. Our youth. They feed on it.

"They hid the public from the worst of it. Sheltered the uninfected. Out of sight, out of mind. But we know.

"Dr. Gairen, me, I was the one who figured them out. She found that their cells aren't cells anymore. They're replaced by something she called Fragmented Force Fields—FFF. Microscopic particles that latch onto a human body and just... overwhelm it. Create a force field so powerful it rewrites your biology. Turns you into one of them, but you're still you in there. Trapped.

"They've got types, categories.

"The E types... they're the worst. They split. One becomes two. Two become four. Their numbers just explode.

"D types... they stretch. You think it's far away, and then an arm shoots out, ten meters long, and grabs you.

"C types, they build things. Weapons. Armor. Out of their own slimy, gooey skin.

"The B types... you don't want to meet a B type. City-killers. And they're smart. They know things. Science, some say.

"And then there are the A types. The ones who keep their sanity. The ones who don't need to feed. We don't talk about them. We don't know anything about them. And that's what scares me the most."

"There is not much I can tell you about the A types even now," Gaieren stated, adjusting her steel-rimmed glasses, reserved for reading documents with minuscule text. Kisuke sighed heavily in response. "Then we will just go with killing them, professor," he said, his expression darkening.

Gaieren's response was terse. "Well, yes. If that is the last thing we can do." With that, she turned and headed towards her office, pointedly avoiding Kisuke's gaze. Shibuyu approached Kisuke, draped in her black cloak. "There is not much choice in our hands. I hope the professor doesn't think badly of us," she remarked. Kisuke merely nodded, the weight of their grim task heavy upon them.

Location: science and technology school, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan, main streets
Time: 7:30 am
Date: 29th July

"Good morning class," the teacher announced, snapping her fingers as she entered the classroom, causing green screens to appear around and above the class. "Before we start, I want you to meet someone. We have a new student in class today. She studied in the states for all her schooling before this, but since her father got a transfer to Germany, she has come here to Japan to live with her sister Momoko. Please be kind to her and no teasing. Jenna, come on in." The teacher smiled, gesturing towards the door.

Jenna entered the classroom quietly, her presence emitting a somewhat menacing aura. The students glanced at her curiously, whispering among themselves as she made her way besides the teacher.

{ Science and technology school uniforms:

For students (male and female) :

Glossy blue jumpsuit with a metallic looking white blazer and white shoes. (For winter and summer both)

For teachers (male and female) :

Glossy green jumpsuit with green high heel boots or green shoes (male). (For winter and summer both) }

Oragaka's grin was a wide, incorrigible thing. He nudged his friend, not taking his eyes off the new girl at the front of the class. "No, but seriously. What a cutie."

The girl next to him, Nimishi, didn't hesitate. Her fist connected with his arm in a short, sharp punch. "What's cute? She seems scary. Plus. You have a friend who's just as amazing, you know," she teased, poking his side. "Where is she?"

Oragaka squinted, scanning the room with exaggerated confusion. "Where? I don't see her. I only see a fish head with a seriously bloated ego."

Thwack. This punch was harder. He winced, rubbing his arm.

"Funny," Nimishi retorted, a smirk playing on her lips as she hit him again for good measure.

"Alright, alright! Truce! You're pretty, Nimishi Choki! As pretty as a..." He trailed off, scratching his head.

She cut him off with an eye-roll so profound it seemed to take her whole body. "Don't. Just don't. I don't need one of your weird comparisons."

"Okay, fine. No comparisons," he relented, holding his hands up in surrender. "But only if you promise not to punch me for the rest of your life."

A dry chuckle escaped her. "If I make that promise, the world will literally end."

His face flushed a brilliant, embarrassed red. "The world will end?!"

She just laughed, a real, full-bodied sound that made a few heads turn their way.

"Shut up." The voice from behind them was flat, devoid of any humor. They both froze, then slowly turned. Enoy was staring at them, his expression utterly unimpressed over the top of his tablet.

Oragaka's attempt at a contrite look was ruined by the laughter still in his eyes. "Sorry, sorry, Enoy-kun. Our bad."

At the front of the room, the teacher's patient smile finally broke through the chatter. "Well, Jenna. Would you like to introduce yourself?"

All eyes swung back to the new girl. Jenna's gaze darted across the sea of faces before quickly dropping to the floor. A faint heat crept up her neck. "I-I am Jenna..." she started, her voice barely a whisper before she forced it louder. "Jenna Ornard."

As one, the class rose and gave a short, synchronised bow. The formality of it seemed to steady her a little. She took a shaky breath. "I-I'm used to being transferred. To different, uh... parts of the world. So I-uh... I'll be looking forward to interacting with people from my own country." She finished in a rush, her shoulders slumping slightly with relief.

Oragaka slumped in his seat, a hand over his heart. He whispered, more to himself than to Nimishi, "Woah. She is really cute. What did I tell you? Never judge someone by their aura. I shouldn't be smiling about the stuttering, but it just makes her cuter. If she becomes my friend, I'll be floating on cloud nine."

Nimishi's hand connected with the back of his head in a swift, practiced motion. Smack.

"You deserve that," she stated flatly.

He shot her a glare but quickly turned his attention back to the teacher, who was scanning the room.

"Let's see... you can sit next to... Enoy-kun. Enoy-kun? Is that alright with you?"

Every head turned. Enoy didn't look up from his tablet. He just reached over, picked up his bag from the empty floating seat beside him, and stowed it in a small, hovering cubicle next to his desk. His silence was answer enough.

Jenna walked over, stopping beneath the floating recliner. It was a calm blue, bobbing gently in the air. She fumbled in her pocket for the remote she'd been given, pressed a button, and the chair descended with a soft hydraulic sigh. She sat down, placed her bag on her lap, and the chair hummed softly as it rose back up, slotting in beside the silent Enoy.

A whisper came from her left. A girl with bright, curious eyes was leaning slightly from her own floating chair. "You don't trust the CLs?"

Jenna's grip tightened on her bag. She just nodded, too embarrassed to explain her fear of the Classroom Lift systems, her paranoia about the air jets failing, and her skepticism towards the CLs.

"The air in here isn't polluted, you know," the girl continued, her voice hushed and friendly. "By the way, I'm Sonomo. Quaranta Sonomo." She leaned back, a small, genuine smile on her face. "And you're really beautiful."

The compliment was so sudden, so unexpected, that a shy, real smile finally broke through Jenna's nervousness.

"We can have lunch together later," Sonomo offered, her voice warm. "You can tell me more about yourself."

Jenna's smile widened, her grip on her bag finally relaxing. "I'd like that," she whispered back, and then the daunting routine began.

First hour: Microbiology studies

Second hour: Computers

Third hour: Microscopic project studies

Fourth hour: Japanese (+ dialects) and other foreign languages

Lunch break

The mid-bell's shrill ring was a sweet release. Jenna slumped in her floating chair, the gentle hum of its stabilizers the only calming sound in the suddenly loud room. Her head throbbed faintly from the information overload of the day.

"Hey, Jenna-san! Let's go!" Sonomo's voice cut through the chaos, energetic as ever. Her own chair hissed as it descended. She hopped off with a practiced bounce, and it zipped back up to its designated height. "Canteen. Now." She said as she looked up at Jenna.

"Okay," Jenna called down, managing a small smile. "Just a minute." Sonomo's boundless energy was a lifeline.

"Don't take too long! If you get lost, just ask someone about the map screens. See you there!" And with a wave, Sonomo was gone, leaving Jenna alone with the rustling sounds of the few remaining students.

She was glancing her microbiology tablet when a voice made her jump.

"Hey. New girl." Oragaka had turned completely around in his seat, his elbows propped on the headrest, peering down at her notes. "Still not done? Class ended ages ago."

Jenna's face flushed a deep, hot crimson. To her horror, she felt the prick of tears in her eyes. "I... I love microbio," she stammered, her voice thick. "But it was the first class and I... I lost my catch. I couldn't keep up. Now I'm stuck." She gestured helplessly at the jumble of half-finished diagrams on her screen.

Oragaka just stared. "God, she's actually here. Right there. She's talking to me." Her stuttering wasn't awkward; it was endearing. It made something in his chest tighten. "How is anyone this cute? It should be illegal."

"Well, well. Don't freak out," he said, his voice softer than he intended. "Seriously. Just ask Enoy for his notes. He's your benchmate. And the guy's a genius. His notes are probably better than the teacher's slides."

Jenna turned, her wide, hopeful eyes landing on Enoy, who was quietly packing his own bag, trying to be invisible.

He felt her gaze like a physical weight. He shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... okay. Yeah. I can send them to you."

She didn't look away. Her expression was so full of earnest gratitude it was almost painful to look at. "Thank you, Enoy-senpai."

He let out a short breath, defeated. "Ugh. Look, I'm not in a club. And since you're new, they'll give you, like, three days to pick one. Club time is two to four. So... I guess I can go over it with you then. And. Just Enoy is fine." The words felt heavy, an obligation he hadn't asked for.

Her smile was immediate, brilliant. Her black hair bobbed as she nodded. "Really? Thank you!"

Oragaka, seeing his opening, practically launched himself from his chair. He landed kneeling on the floor next to her, as she descended from her own chair, grabbing her hand before she could react. "Well! We," he announced, puffing out his chest, "will personally escort you to the canteen, princess. Can't have you getting lost. That rich queen Sonomo is probably waiting."

Jenna's flush returned, spreading from her cheeks down her neck. She tried to pull her hand back, but he held it with a gentle firmness. His admiration was overwhelming, but strangely, it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Nimishi, watching from the doorway, let out a long-suffering sigh. "He looks like such an idiot. A lovesick puppy, not a prince." She shook her head. "If she does anything cuter, he's gonna short-circuit and we'll have to take him to the clinic."

✷___________________✷

"Hey! Over here!" Sonomo's voice rang across the crowded canteen. She waved an arm, flagging them down.

Jenna extricated her hand from Oragaka's, he let her goo too, and hurried over, her movements surprisingly quick and graceful.

Sonomo raised an eyebrow as Jenna slid into the seat opposite her. "Haha. You sure you're just a junior high schooler? You move like you're in a fancy drama."

"Eh? Yeah," Jenna said, blushing again as she unpacked her lunch.

They fell into easy conversation, the initial awkwardness melting away as they talked about teachers and classes. During a lull, Jenna took a bite of her sausage, her eyes drifting across the room. They landed on Enoy, sitting alone at a far table, pushing food around his plate.

Her smile faded. "Sonomo-senpai?" she asked, her voice quiet. "What's wrong with Enoy-senpai?"

Sonomo paused, a piece of fruit halfway to her mouth. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

"I sat next to him all morning. He just feels... off. Sad. I thought maybe he got bad grades, but Oragaka-senpai said he's smart. So... what is it?" The words tumbled out, and with them came a sudden, unexpected wave of emotion. Her eyes welled up. Embarrassed, she hid her face behind her hands. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm... I just felt it."

"Oh, hey, relax. It's okay." Sonomo's voice was gentle. She waited until Jenna lowered her hands, revealing eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You're right. He is smart. Good at sports, too. Even won a prize in some ancient flower arrangement thing. The guy's annoyingly talented. But... yeah. He's been like that for a while now." She lowered her voice. "Nimishi told me... his parents were infected. By the Sanguine virus. They were... annihilated."

"Sanguine?" Jenna whispered the unfamiliar word.

"You don't know? The virus was all over the world. I bet your sister knows, though." Sonomo took a bite, chewing slowly before continuing. "It's from the Latin word for blood. Sanguineus. It... it turns people. They stop wanting food. They start craving... other things. Human emotions. Strength."

Jenna listened, her food forgotten.

"It's complicated," Sonomo continued, her tone grim. "These things, they're called Jenemes. They can only feed if the FFF particles inside you let them. If your body fights it, they move on. But if they get you..." She trailed off. "They drain you. All your feelings, your youth. Everything. When there's nothing left, they move to the next person. And the worst part? You don't even remember it happening. Not until later."

"Does it... hurt?" Jenna asked, her voice small.

"Yeah. Studies say it's really painful. Your body changes. Your eyes... your veins... it's bad. And when you wake up after it's all over, you don't remember any of it. Not until your brain decides to remind you one day." She shook her head. "It started maybe fifteen, sixteen years ago? They say five, but that's not right. First it was a kid in Mexico. Then a businessman in Yokohama. No one knows where it really came from. A cat in Shinjuku, maybe? It's a mess. That's why they made the JEO."

"JEO?"

"Jeneme Extermination Organization. Formed to find them and... well, end them. But the Jenemes fight back. They can change, become these huge, slimy things that can smash a building. We never won. Not until recently." She leaned forward. "A scientist, Dr. Gairen, came up with new tactics. And then this commander, Awara, found these people who can use spirit power—star bearers. That changed everything."

Jenna's heart ached. "So Enoy-senpai... his parents..."

"Were killed by the JEO. The government's order. No cure. So... annihilation." Sonomo said it flatly, the horrible finality of it hanging in the air between them.

"Oh." The single word was heavy with understanding.

"They say there's stuff in the virus nobody even understands yet. Stuff that wasn't in any old textbook." Sonomo shrugged, a gesture of helplessness.

"I see," Jenna murmured. She stood abruptly, picking up her empty plate. Sonomo followed suit. They dumped their trays in silence and walked back to class, Jenna walking with a new, somber purpose, Sonomo trailing behind with her usual lazy slouch.

✷____________________✷

The fifth hour passed in a blur of floating seats and glowing green programming screens. The sixth was a drone of mathematical equations. When the final bell rang, a wave of noise and movement swept through the halls as students burst out, heading for clubs.

"No combat training today. No anatomy. No weapons," Sonomo announced, stretching her arms over her head with a groan of relief. "Thank goodness. I hate anything that makes me sweat. I end up feeling like a roasted pig."

Jenna managed a weak chuckle. "That's a rude thing to say, Sonomo-senpai."

"It's the truth!" Sonomo yawned. "See you tomorrow." With a wave, she melted into the crowd, leaving Jenna alone as the classroom emptied around her. The silence was peaceful, but it felt heavy now.

✷______________________✷

The swish of the door broke the quiet.

"Well?"

Jenna jumped. Oragaka stood in the doorway, leaned against the frame, hands folded in front of his chest.

"O-Oragaka-senpai!" she stammered, scrambling to her feet, the chair she jumped off, flying back up.

"Whoa, hey! Sorry!" He waved his hands, a panicked look on his face. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just... came to see if Enoy kept his promise. About the microbio lesson."

"He's... he's not here yet," Jenna said, her brow furrowed with worry.

"Ah, don't stress about it. If he bails, just give him a call. hassle him about it." Oragaka said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"C-call him?"

"Here." He fished in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small, metallic bottle cap with a tiny button set in the center. He took her hand and pressed the cool gadget into her palm. "You know how to use one of these, right?" His touch was brief, but his hand was warm and reassuring.

{ School equipments:

1. Seat controller (remote):

Use: The seat controller is a device used to help seats fly in the air and then remain in a fixed position and also bring it down whenever necessary with the press of a single button.

Appearance: a rectangular black base with four buttons on it; red, blue, green and yellow.

Working: the red button helps float the seat (chair and desk included), blue brings it back down, green one helps change places in mid air and the yellow button adjusts the distance between the desk and chair as per needed.

Skills: memory

2. Call buzzer:

Use: to call people by just pushing the button on the structure.

Appearance: small circle with a miniature button over it.

Working: all one needs to do is press the button and state the name of the person. The device is called BEE commonly. It uses an electromagnetic wave to connect to the person if the data of the person is filled in the device and makes the call.

Skills: N/A }

The little communication device felt cold and heavy in Jenna's palm. Oragaka's words hung in the air between them.

"Technology has made it easy. No?" he said, a half-smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Jenna's gaze drifted from the gadget to the empty doorway Enoy had vanished through. Her voice was quiet, hesitant. "Will he... will he always stay like that? So closed off?"

Oragaka's playful demeanor softened. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking suddenly older. "I'm not sure, Jenna-san. He went through a lot." He gave her a final, lingering look, then turned and walked away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

The buzzer felt like a live wire in her hand. Jenna stared at it, her thumb hovering over the tiny button. "Should I? Would he even answer? Would it just annoy him?"

"Don't want to study?" a flat voice asked from right beside her.

Jenna jumped, fumbling the device. She looked up, her heart hammering against her ribs. Enoy was just... there. Leaning against a descended desk as if he'd been there the whole time. Perhaps, the student the desk belonged to, forgot to press the blue button.

"Huh? Oh! Enoy-senpai!" She scrambled to her feet so fast her legs wobbled. "You're here."

"Yes." He didn't smile. He held out a data chip. "I got you the extra notes. The annotated version. It always helps. And I told you. Just Enoy is fine."

"Uh... um... err... thank you, Enoy," she stammered, taking the chip like it was a precious artifact. The gratitude was a physical warmth in her chest.

"No problem." He gave a short, polite nod and turned to go.

"Senpai!" The word burst out of her before she could stop it. He paused but didn't turn back. "I mean, Enoy... why did you keep your promise? You didn't have to."

He stood perfectly still for a moment, a silhouette against the bright hallway light. Then, without a word or a backward glance, he pushed through the doors and was gone. Her question was left hanging, unanswered, in the silent, empty room.

Location: Southern JEO Headquarters, Central Tokyo
Date: July 29th
Time: 5:00 PM

The air was cold, smelling of antiseptic and polished metal. A new agent, mask on their face stood stiffly in a line of agents, all clad in identical black jumpsuits. The UA unit. Their heart was a frantic drum against their ribs. Next to them, another new agent, wearing a mask over their face, stood with a calm, unnerving stillness.

At the front of the room, Shibuyu scanned their ranks, her eyes like chips of flint. Beside her, Commander Kisuke paced, his hands clasped behind his back. The wait was agonizing.

The sharp click of boots echoed in the hall. All heads turned. Commander Awara entered, a slender silver tube clenched between his teeth. He pulled it from his lips, exhaling a plume of faint, sweet-smelling smoke.

"Where are they?" Awara's voice was a low rasp, cutting through the silence.

Kisuke stopped pacing. "Captain Riyu Kagaro. Unit 9 will welcome two new recruits today."

Kagaro, standing in the front line stomped his right foot, saluting sharply. "Commander!"

The new agent's breath hitched. They knew that voice.

"And she will be our secret weapon," Awara said, his gaze sweeping over them. "Since she, too, is a teenager like you."

Kagaro—shifted almost imperceptibly. The timid agent saw his jaw tighten from behind him, within the lines. "Another little girl," he muttered, the words so low they were almost inaudible.

Awara's hearing, however, was impeccable. "Anyone who can fight and is above thirteen can join the JEO, Captain," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Yes, Commander," Kagaro replied, the words tight as he fell back in front of the line.

"Let's welcome Jenna Ornard."

Jenna took a step forward on shaky legs, as per Awara's call, and stood in front, facing the others. At the same moment, Kagaro glanced at her. Their eyes met.

A jolt of recognition.

"You are—!" they said in unison, both taking an involuntary step back.

Awara's eyebrow crept upward. "You know each other?"

A girl from the line—Nimishi—spoke up, her voice a mix of shock and amusement. "Of course, we do."

"Ah... you are Nimishi-senpai," Jenna breathed, her mind reeling. Her eyes darted to the captain. "And you are... Oragaka-senpai?"

The captain looked like he'd been slapped. "It's Kagaro," he corrected, irritation flashing across his face.

Jenna's head tilted, her nervousness momentarily replaced by pure puzzle-solving instinct. "Ka-ga-ro? Or-ag-ak? Oragaka." She pointed a finger at him, her eyes wide. "You jumbled up the letters in your name, Senpai!"

"I didn't commit a crime for you to point at me like that!" he snapped, his composure cracking.

A few agents coughed, disguising laughs. The tension broke for a single, fleeting second before the heavy silence crashed down again. They were in the JEO. This wasn't school.

Jenna, sensing the sudden shift, swallowed hard. She looked at the girl next to Kagaro. "And you are Nimishi... Ih-si-mi-n? Ihsimin? Shimin?"

The girl—Nimishi—let out a soft giggle. "Yeah, Shimin. You've got a knack for word puzzles, huh?"

"I just said whatever made sense to me," Jenna mumbled, her face flushing. "Wait... if Orag— if Kagaro-senpai and Shimin-senpai are here..." Her eyes widened. "Then Enoy-senpai is here too?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kagaro said, executing a perfect, formal bow that felt utterly alien to the boy she knew from class. Jenna's fingers twisted in the fabric of her new uniform.

"Well, since you three know each other, training shouldn't be a problem," Awara stated, placing his pipe on a nearby console. "So... Yone will be here in a while. That guy... I'm not sure what he's so busy with," he added, more to himself than anyone.

Awara then  cleared his throat. "If you are all done being useless, please pay attention. You too, Jenna. And miss..." His eyes landed on Momoko. "...her sister, I'm going to assume?"

Momoko didn't flinch. "Yes. I'm Momoko Ornard."

"And that you are. Join the line."

They fell into place again. Thirty minutes later, as Awara droned on about protocols, a young man with intense eyes—Yone—slipped into the room. He offered the briefest of bows to Jenna and Momoko, completely ignored Awara's scorching glare, and without a word, began demonstrating a disarming technique on a training dummy.

The session was brutal. Basic combat maneuvers, gear familiarization, tactical protocols. Jenna was sweating, her muscles screaming.

"We'll brief you on the working of JEO and ranks soon," Awara finally spoke, as he glanced at Jenna. "Dismissed."

Water break. The agents scattered around and out of the room, and only Kagaro, Yone, Shimin, Momoko and Jenna remained in the room. Kagaro approached Jenna. He stood close, his voice low so the others wouldn't hear.

"Jenna." His tone was different now. Not the playful Oragaka, not the irritated Captain. This was something else entirely. Serious. "Is it true?"

"Is what true, Senp--Captain?"

He searched her face, his expression unreadable. "You are a Star Bearer?"

The question felt like a physical blow. Jenna's throat went dry. She swallowed, hard. "Yes, sir. I mean, yes, Kagaro-Senpai. Uh, Captain Riyu Kagaro."

The change in him was instantaneous. His eyes widened. The color drained from his face. He took a step back, as if she'd suddenly burst into flames.

"Impossible!" The word wasn't a question. It was a roar of pure, unadulterated disbelief that echoed off the cold metal walls, drawing every eye in the room. His gaze was locked on her, wide and utterly stunned. "How is that even possible?"