EPISODE THREE
THE WRATH OF SATAR

Kagaro could only watch in horror as the Jeneme flung Yone across the room. The impact rattled through the floor — a raw, bone-snapping sound that made Kagaro's stomach turn. Yone landed hard, gasping, one arm twisted awkwardly beneath him. Before he could even push himself up, the creature was already over him, its hulking shadow spreading wide across the floor.

The Jeneme lifted its stubby green foot and brought it down.

The crunch that followed didn't leave any room for imagination.

"Ahhhhhh!" Yone's scream tore through the air, piercing through Kagaro's ears and cutting right into his chest.

"Yone! No—Yone! Dammit, let me go, my friend—Yone is—" The words barely made sense. Kagaro choked on them, voice breaking under sheer panic. Hot tears blurred his vision before he even realized he was crying. His arms thrashed wildly against the Jeneme restraining him, the slick, crushing grip making his muscles burn. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe — couldn't do anything but watch as Yone lay motionless under the monster's approaching foot for the second time.

And then, out of nowhere, a sharp grunt filled the air. The Jeneme's leg jerked backward — hard. The creature was thrown off balance, shoved aside by some invisible force.

A white flash shimmered across the dust-filled air.

When Kagaro blinked away the images of debris from his eyes, he saw him — the being standing tall between Yone and the monster. Hibiki. Jenna's star. His form glowed faintly, radiating calm among the chaos, an enforcer from the world, here to save them from their impending doom.

Even just standing there, Hibiki made the room go still. Even the air seemed to pause around him.

Yone coughed, clutching his ribs, and looked up in a daze. The monster that had been seconds away from killing him was now sprawled aside, twitching weakly.

Hibiki held such an astonishing amount of power. Yet, Jenna was nowhere to be seen. Regardless, this was not time to wonder how Hibiki had managed to come here without the help of his owner. Questions could wait. Questions would have to wait.

Kagaro, still bound by the creature behind him, stared at the ethereal being, awe cutting through the sheer panic lining his face, an unexpected collaboration of emotions. "Thank you—uh, Star Hibiki, for saving Yone..." His voice came out rough, but honest.

Hibiki didn't reply. His expression remained unreadable, those deep crimson eyes sliding past Yone, half straightened up behind him, to fix on Kagaro.

Before Kagaro could say another word, the Jeneme holding him growled, its slimy arms squeezing tighter. Pain shot through his left arm like an electric shock. "Agh—damn it!" he groaned, his voice raw, breath erratic. He could feel the bruises deepening already, the grip relentless and wet against his skin.

Hibiki's eyes glowed faintly — and suddenly, the air split with pressure. A pulse rolled outward from the star like an unseen tremor, and the Jeneme froze mid-motion.

The creature's slick torso quivered as if a mountain of weight had been dumped on it.

Then, with a calm, deliberate grace, Hibiki floated closer. He reached out a single gloved finger and tapped the creature's bloated arm. The contact barely looked like a touch—yet in an instant, the Jeneme's body convulsed, its arms turning slack.

Kagaro crashed to the floor, breathing hard, grabbing his injured arm. His chest heaved, his heart threatening to burst out of his throat.

"Thanks... again," he managed to grit out, even as pain thudded in his ribs.

Hibiki didn't speak. He simply raised a hand, and the next thing Kagaro knew, he and Yone were no longer on the ground. The air whooshed past their faces; the world became nothing but a blur of light and motion.

When their feet touched solid ground again, it was stone — the rooftop of the JEO southern building. The entire trip had taken seconds. Kagaro hadn't even seen the moment they'd crossed the distance, just the destination.

As soon as they landed, Hibiki's form began to fade, dissolving back into the light.

Kagaro stood dumbstruck, then dropped to one knee, completely winded. "Wow... Jenna-san saved us," he murmured, half to himself, half in disbelief.

Yone crouched beside him, sweat-soaked and pale. He spotted Kagaro's arm — the mangled shape, the swelling already purple. His expression tightened as he tried to reach for it.

"What are you doing?" Kagaro snapped, jerking the arm back when Yone touched it. The sharp movement pulled a hiss of pain from his throat. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Yone said quietly, examining the damage anyway. His voice lacked patience — too level, too steady for the mess around them. "It's crushed."

Kagaro swallowed, caught between pride and the pulsing ache. His glance flicked to Yone's own right arm — limp, half-usable at best. "Your arm's not looking so great either," he said, forcing a weary smirk that didn't last.

Ignoring him, Yone knelt down fully. He placed Kagaro's arm gently in his lap and whispered, "Satar. Come out, please."

It was rare — summoning without his bandana. The conduit mattered; without it, the cost was brutal. The reason he hadn't called her out during the ambush. But there wasn't another choice. He knew Kagaro's arm would't last if he didn't do anything about it and he could, perhaps, manage a single call, for a celestial level first-aid.

The air shifted, vibrating faintly as if alive. Ripples glowed out from Yone's hand, and seconds later, an outline shimmered into being beside him.

Satar appeared — slender, ethereal, draped in an almost liquid shimmer of pale white light. She rested carelessly against Yone's shoulder, her lips curling close to his ear. "Yes, Master?" she whispered, voice like winter breaking open.

Yone didn't flinch. Too tired, too focused. "Heal Riyu-san," he said softly.

For a moment, Satar said nothing. Then she glanced sideways toward Kagaro. Her icy eyes sized him up, unhurried, judging his left arm sprawled on her master's lap.

Kagaro stiffened under her gaze. He'd seen her before — the stories, the warnings from Yone, the battle that forced JEO shut. Satar wasn't a gentle presence; she didn't care.

"Why?" she murmured, voice quiet, sharp enough to make Yone flinch.

"Please." It wasn't just a word. It came out raw, pleading. "I'm begging you."

A hint of something cruel danced at the corner of her lips. She thrived on power — on control. Yone's earnestness, his desperation, it fed her in some twisted way. Satisfaction.

Drifting lazily toward Kagaro, Satar extended her pale hand. Her fingers brushed his bruised arm. And in an instant, the world filled with light.

It exploded outward — white and pure, so bright both Yone and Kagaro had to turn away.

When it faded, the pain was gone. Kagaro blinked in disbelief. His arm was whole. The bruises, the deep swelling, the feeling of shattered bones mixing with his blood — gone, completely.

Satar smiled down at him, a carefully constructed expression that carried no warmth at all. "You seem precious to Yone," she said softly. "But what happens when I'm not here to fix you next time? When you're too broken for even me to handle?"

Her hand, still hovering near his shoulder, inched upward, trailing toward his throat. Kagaro froze — barely breathing, muscles drawn tight.

"Damn it, Satar—"

But before he could react, Yone's shout cut through. "No! Satar, stop! Go back—now!"

The authority in his tone cracked slightly, but the desperation didn't. Yone's hand shook as he clenched the bandana he didn't even have, an invisible force of prayer.

Satar hovered motionless, eyes flicking between the two of them. Then she gave Yone a small shrug, lips curling into a faint disdain. With a bitterness that clung to the air, her hands releasing Kagaro's throat, she floated higher, dissolving slightly against the sunlight.

Kagaro gritted his teeth, getting to his feet. "Not again," he muttered, frustrated. His voice came out low but edged with weary anger. "The quarters just opened up..." His fists clenched by his sides. He wasn't angry at Yone, not really — just at the damn situation.

Yone's breathing was shallow, his voice frayed when he spoke next. "Riyu-san," he said, reverting to that soft formality he used only when things were bad. "Leave."

Kagaro's head snapped toward him. "What?"

"I said go." Yone's tone wavered, exhaustion clouding his features. His gaze flicked to the floor gate, the stairwell that led down from the rooftop. He was trying to protect him. Kagaro didn't need to hear more — the fear underneath it was clear.

Kagaro stood there for a beat, jaw locked tight. He hated the idea of leaving him alone, especially like this. But arguing wasn't going to help.

"Fine," he said finally, his voice low. With one last glance back, he added, "I'll be back, Yone. Hold on."

And then he turned, sprinting for the rooftop exit.

The moment he burst through the stairwell, Kagaro was running full speed. Every thought in his mind was whittled down to one thing — gear. He needed his equipment back, now.

He tore through the corridor, reached the wall panel, and slammed his hand against it. The screen flickered green, scanning him in a blink before a soft hiss cut through the air. A floating capsule glided into view beside him, its metal sheen reflecting light.

Kagaro jumped in before the doors even finished opening. The capsule sealed shut and shot downward, a streak of motion through the tight shaft. The air hummed, his stomach flipping with the speed.

Seconds later, the doors parted to the sight of his floor — the familiar corridor of reinforced glass and metal. "Wait here," he barked, stepping out.

"Voice recognized. I will wait for you here, Captain Riyu Kagaro," came the AI's even reply. He ignored it completely, already bolting toward his quarters.

Southern JEO Headquarters
Same time

The wind screamed against the rooftop where Yone stood. He was shouting — his voice half-swallowed by the howling air. "Satar! Come back down! Get back in! Do you hear me?"

The star didn't listen. She drifted higher, her body glimmering in defiance.

And then the door behind him swung open. The floor gate.

The person who appeared next wasn't the one Yone had expected them to be.

Jenna stepped through — black jumpsuit sharp against the silver-glass light of morning. Her boots clicked with calm weight against the roof as she approached.

"Agent Yone." Her tone was measured, composed. "Commander Awara's assembled every agent. It's time."

She tossed him his bandana. Yone caught it instantly, his fingers tracing the material like it was an anchor.

"Come back, Star Satar," he said, low but insistent.

The star laughed — a high, ringing sound that cut like a blade through the wind. "Foolish human-- no. Foolish master. You tried this last time. Did it work then?" Her voice shimmered between mockery and disinterest, her form swaying in the air. "I rather like the human world. Maybe I'll stay."

"Go back," Jenna said suddenly. Her voice held no hesitation, no crack. Just authority.

Satar's smile twisted into a snarl. "You insolent brat," she hissed. "How dare you interrupt me?"

Jenna didn't even blink. When Satar's form descended downward, her hand reaching toward her, she moved — fast. Her palm struck the star's wrist with precision, the sound sharp against the cold morning air. Then, pivoting smoothly, Jenna delivered a sidekick square to Satar's abdomen.

The star spun back midair, her Kimono-like robe fluttering violently before she steadied herself again, grey eyes blazing with fury.

"How dare you!" she spat, voice trembling with wrath. "You always irritated me, but this... this is beyond all reason. To defy a star is to summon your own death, Jenna."

Jenna met her stare, unflinching. "Go back," she said evenly. "Yone-san's exhausted because of you."

Satar's expression hardened, her lips curling into a thin, dangerous smile — the kind that promised trouble.

The wind around them shifted, the air alive again.

And on that rooftop, the moment hung heavy — the calm before something dark decided to break loose.