EPISODE 1
CATALYST

The clock struck six as the first pale light crept through Jenna's floor-to-ceiling windows. Morning had begun to slide silently into her house. The place, vast and filled with calm light, wore its white-painted walls like soft radiance, every detail caught under the gentle golden hue coming from the sunlight's glow beyond.

The rays spilled across the polished wooden floor, wrapping it in warmth, while a soft breeze slipped through the open windows, carrying the clean scent of the garden inside. This room existed for one purpose only — their morning workouts — an idea born and shaped by Jenna and her older sister, Momoko. Yoga mats of all shades sprawled across one side; neatly aligned gym equipment lined another. From the ceiling speakers, a low, instrumental tune flowed like a quiet breath, tying every piece of the room into harmony.

Jenna, on a black yoga mat, was folded deep into her stretch — legs flat in a complete split, forehead brushing the floor. Her black sports bra and tights molded perfectly to her form; her hair held tightly in a bun that hadn't moved an inch. Next to her, on a pink mat, Shimin mirrored the pose — same stillness, same discipline — her pink-toned outfit of the same sport and high ponytail giving her a gentle edge. Their movements, slow and fluid, came in unison. Years of training had etched precision into their bodies — one schooled under JEO, the other under a sister's sharp eye.

After another breath, they lifted their torsos together, legs still pressed flat on the ground. Their arms swept side to side in rhythm, the air filling with the sound of synchronized breaths. The music whispered on as Jenna's gaze wandered, catching the faint furrow on Shimin's face.

"Something on your mind?" Jenna asked softly, exhaling as she reached forward again, fingertips grazing her toes.

Shimin followed through the stretch, her voice quiet against the background. "I just... can't stop thinking about JEO being sealed away," she murmured, hesitation threading her tone.

Jenna froze mid-stretch, letting Shimin's words hang there. Then, lifting her head slightly, she asked, "How long is it supposed to stay shut down?" Curiosity mixed with a pinch of guilt; she couldn't forget she had a share in that outcome. Her, and her star.

"Kagaro said until the end of the month," Shimin replied, unfolding her body with deliberate care.

Jenna rose to her feet, matching Shimin's pace. Their breaths steadied, the air shifting as their brief session wound to its close. They began rolling up their mats — their conversation, like the music still playing, left quietly unfinished; perhaps deliberately, perhaps not, neither of them knew.

The door burst open just then. Kagaro and Yone walked in, hands full of drink cans. Kagaro managed three at once, somehow, without spilling a single drop, while Yone carried two with ease. Without even slowing down, Kagaro tossed one toward Shimin. She caught it effortlessly, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. Yone handed another can to Jenna, his own easy grip in place.

Both men wore tracksuits — Yone pristine in white, Kagaro bright in green — their hair still damp from rushed showers. Their presence softened the lingering tension instantly.

Momoko followed, unmistakable in her bold yellow sports bra and tights under a semi-translucent white jacket. Already buzzing with energy, she snatched a can from Kagaro's arm, tossed her yellow mat onto the floor, and plopped down cross-legged as if she owned the place. Well, only the fact that she did. She cracked open the drink, took a long pull, and sighed contentedly.

"Ah, that's the stuff, absolutely refreshing," she said, smacking her lips in approval. Tilting the can of apple flavoured milk, she inspected the label. A habit she had come to embrace. A habit that would show itself when she refused to look at those around her when talking. "We'll just keep up with light training for now — basic workouts, then some combat drills with whoever's left right after." Her tone held the faintest flicker of anger, quickly dulled by her steady, unshakable resolve.

Kagaro slid down against the wall beside her, the cold surface pressing through his shirt. After a sip of the matcha-flavored milk he so loved, he said, more serious now, "School starts next month too, Nee. We should stay sharp. Always."

Nee.

Kagaro had certainly shifted from his usual antagonised bearing to an individual pertaining to the frame of mind of all mortals.

Shimin, who'd been sipping in silence, suddenly frowned and glanced his way. "You still buy banana flavored milk for me even though I hate it." She spun the bright yellow can accusingly, her glare teetering between annoyance and amusement.

Kagaro gave a helpless grin. "I keep thinking you'll come around. You used to like it, remember? Thought I could finally change your mind. So, how much did I achieve in that aspect?"

"Nada," Shimin sighed, welcoming his audacious prank as a part of entertainment between two friends.

But before Kagaro could respond, Momoko cut in, her voice lower, calm but heavy. "Too much has happened," she said quietly. Her eyes drifted across the room, through memories none of them wanted to name. "And too much was lost. We need this... time. To heal. To gather ourselves again. Then we can come back stronger. Well. If time allows that is."

Her words wrapped around them like a warm blanket. Everyone nodded. They didn't need to say it aloud — they all understood. This peace was temporary, but precious.

Momoko zipped her jacket up, crushed the empty red can with a swift squeeze, and paused for a fleeting moment — just enough for her warm smile to flicker through. Then, silently, she picked up her mat and left the room, her soft footsteps fading into the hallway.

Jenna took a slow sip of her strawberry flavoured milk, watching the spot her sister had graced a second ago. The sweetness sat heavy on her tongue, contrasting the weight in her chest. Shimin sighed beside her and set her half-finished can down on the floor before straightening back up.

"It's okay," she said quietly, her voice gentle but steady. "We'll be fine. Don't worry." There was strength behind it — a kind of resolve that reached all four of them without needing any extra words.

Kagaro and Yone exchanged a glance. They both understood exactly what she was saying. Shimin shifted, crossing her legs as she sat down on the now warm floor, blessings of the sunlight, facing Kagaro, who remained leaned against the wall. Jenna joined her, while Yone dropped beside Kagaro, sitting opposite the girls.

When Yone finished the last few drops from his plain, unflavoured milk, he tossed the crumpled can into the bin at the corner of the room from where he sat. It landed with a hollow thud. He smiled faintly, possibly proud of his aim. One by one, the others followed — the quiet crackle of plastic breaking the silence like punctuation marks. Their little ritual marked the end of the morning, and of their heavy talk.

Then came the sound nobody wanted to hear at this time of the day — the sharp ring of Kagaro's phone. The phone he had received from JEO. The sudden intrusion sliced through the calm. He frowned, pulling it from the pocket of his green track pants, and tapped to answer the call without a word. A faint green holographic screen flickered to life in front of him, its soft glow washing his face in eerie light.

On the screen: "Commander Awara." Below the name, the usual interface — mute, speaker, keypad — bathed in quiet neon.

"Captain Kagaro," came the crisp, steady voice through the speaker. "There's been a change in plans. JEO will reopen earlier than expected."

Kagaro's eyes widened. "What? Why? When?" The words tumbled out, the edge sharpened by disbelief.

There was a pause. The voice returned, slower now, measured. "You'll know soon enough. It's today."

The word hung like a weight. Today. The air thickened around them as dread slowly sank in. Kagaro's thoughts raced — recalibrating, calculating, already trying to prepare for the sudden shift.

But why today? What was today? After a silence that stretched across time, why did the organisation suddenly decide on its opening without even a proper conference, as opposed to how JEO usually operater?

It didn't seem like Awara wished to humor any more of Kagaro's questions or indulge in his confusion for the call simply rung off from the other side, a single beep marking the end of their one-sided conversation.

Across the room, Jenna and Shimin exchanged uneasy glances. Yone stayed quiet, but stepped closer, laying a steady hand on Kagaro's shoulder — a silent reassurance amid the storm beginning to gather again.

No words were needed to be said, no questions were needed to be raised. They all knew it, deep in the being of their every fibre, that something worse than what had marked the closure of JEO was brewing behind the scenes, and that they had to be ready to face it, no matter the circumstances.