Ayame was up before her band buzzed. It had been a restless night full of weird dreams anyway. She'd dreamt that Desma had arrived with a platoon of Hanshö at her doorstep. While Ayame had broken down at the sight of this, her mother had said it was her own fault and that she needed to face the consequences of her actions.

So when she woke up five minutes before half past, she was a little relieved. Even if she couldn't actually leave her bed for another five minutes, at least the dream was over. Ayame noticed the band on her arm was flashing again too instead of the solid red it was the night before.

This was a good sign.

Her mother must have lifted the restrictions. Ayame was tempted to grab the Wafer and check if she could talk to Steve, but she decided against it. If this was a test, she didn't want to start the day by failing it.

She dragged herself to the toilet instead. Washing her hands as soon as she woke up was ingrained in her. Like brushing her teeth before bed. It didn't matter whether she had been to the toilet during the night, she had to wash her hands.

She broke away from the rest of her morning ritual. Instead, making her way to her mother's room. It was a mirror image of her own room, with the same amenities placed neatly against each wall. The only difference was how neat her mother's room was compared to her own.

The cupboard wasn't overflowing with clothes, the side table didn't have last night's half-eaten food, and the desk was almost empty save for a single Wafer. The only part of the room that wasn't incessantly cleaned was the bed where Pierre lay snoring softly, mouth parted open. A blanket coiled around one of his legs, while the other dangled off the bed.

Ayame had already turned to leave when she heard Pierre croak her name. She turned to find him rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he attempted to kick the blanket off his leg. After a minute of unsuccessful flailing, he sat up and used his hands to uncoil the blanket.

"What's the time?" Pierre mumbled. He patted the empty space on the bed beside him, rubbing his eyes again.

"Just after half-five."

Pierre looked at her quietly, the sleep from his face vanishing in an instant, his brows furrowing together, "Couldn't sleep?" His hand found its way to hers.

Ayame shrugged, it had been a restless night, "I think it's knowing that I have to apologise to Desma that's getting to me," she admitted.

"Yeah, that sucks," Pierre responded, "it's not like you broke her jaw-oh wait!" His eyes bulged in mock realisation for a second before he settled in a cheeky grin.

Ayame shot her friend the dirtiest look she could manage, "I have a real problem here!" she snarled.

Pierre was still grinning, clearly very pleased with himself, "That's cute," he said, "you think you've got just one."

Ayame yanked the pillow from under Pierre and smacked him across the face with it. His eyes had barely begun to widen when it landed with a satisfying smack, invoking a muffled grunt from her friend. Ayame held the pillow with both hands like a weapon, "Say that again, I dare you!"

"Oh, you dare me?" Pierre's hand was on her wrist before she had a chance to react, "You? Miss Noodle Arms?"

Ayame felt the tug on the pillow and held on to it tighter, which was a terrible mistake. Pierre wasn't snatching the pillow from her, he let go almost as instantly as he had grabbed it. And in the split second of confusion when Ayame froze, Pierre brought his hand and the pillow back on her face.

Hard.

Ayame nearly fell off the bed with the force of his punch. In fact, if it wasn't for the pillow, he would probably have broken her nose.

She heard a snigger, "Noodle arms."

Ayame was furious for an entirely different reason now. She tossed the pillow aside and used her forefinger and thumb to flick the centre of Pierre's stupid forehead.

"Ouch!" His hand immediately went to the spot she had just flicked, "What are you? Five?"

Ayame glowered in response, "You nearly broke my nose!" she snarled.

Pierre's eyebrows arched, but there was no surprise on his face-real or pretend. Instead, the sides of his jaw curved into a smirk as he spoke, "Broke your nose?" he asked, as if he hadn't heard her the first time, "Sounds like something I should apologise for, no?"

Ayame raised her hand to give his forehead another well-deserved flick, but Pierre caught her wrist firmly before she could. She grabbed his wrist just as quickly, before he could flick her head in retaliation.

They stared each other in complete silence. If this was a test of patience she wasn't going to lose to the likes of him.

"So," Pierre said finally, "we're at a stalemate."

Ayame shrugged, "Or you could just let go of my hands," she offered coolly.

Pierre snorted, "I grew up with you Mei," he reminded her, "you're going flick the first chance you get." The grip on her wrist tightened, "I'm not letting go, you let go first."

Ayame shook her head firmly, "Why?" she demanded, "So you flick back?"

Silence again.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous!" Pierre declared when neither of them moved, "Let go of my hand, Mei."

Ayame narrowed her eyes, ready to tell him exactly what she was going to do if he didn't let go of her hand first when a different voice called from outside the room.

"What in the world are the two of you doing up there?!"

Pierre's hands snapped back to his side with speed and ferocity she had never seen before. He had even managed to snatch the arm she had been holding back, his face turning a deep shade of red.

Ayame raised an eyebrow, "What's up with you?"

"Shut up," he hissed, growing redder by the minute. He then turned to her, with a glare so random she wasn't even sure what was happening anymore, "why is she mad?" Pierre whispered harshly, "What did you do now?"

Ayame scoffed, "Excuse me?" She folded her arms across her chest, not bothering to lower her own voice, "Why do you always assume it was me?"

"Well it wasn't me!" he retorted, maintaining the whisper even if it was far too loud to still be effective, "I was asleep until you got here."

"I was asleep too!" Ayame snapped.

Pierre's gaze drifted to the rest of the room, unfocused for a minute before he turned back to her with a frown, "Did we do something we forgot about?"

Ayame didn't immediately respond to her friend's idiotic remark. She looked him up and down for a few seconds before she spoke, "Do you hear yourself, Pierre?"

"Oh stop being all high and mighty!" Pierre snapped back, still whispering, futile as it was, "Every time we get in trouble, it's because of you! And Steve! And-OH!" His eyes went very round, "Oh shit! She knows, Mei! She knows!"

There was really only one secret she had recently kept from her mother that would make her friend Panic the way he did.

But it was impossible.

There were only two other people who knew Ayame had nearly been snatched by the stars, and neither of them would tell her mother. Ever!

"Impossible," Ayame affirmed, shaking her head to stress the unlikeliness of it, "You didn't tell her and Steve ... Steve wouldn't tell her either."

"He may not have had to," Pierre said quietly, his eyes darting to the doorway, "The Hanshö monitor the stars remember?"

"No!" Ayame felt the bile rising in her throat, why was she supposed to remember something she had never even heard about before.

"We studied this Mei!" Pierre's voice rose slightly, his nose scrunched as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

She knew this expression, it was the same one he had when he was trying to teach her something 'basic' that she just didn't get. She half-expected Pierre to ask her why she even bothered going to school but he said nothing.

So Ayame shrugged again, feeling her ears warming up. She hated school, he knew that already. She hated reading and writing; and even if everything she studied hadn't been so boring, words always mixed themselves up. What was the point?

Pierre sighed, forcing the calm in his voice as he spoke again, "The Hanshö monitor the stars," he repeated, and then more gravely added, "and guess whose jaw you broke yesterday?"

No!

Ayame was going to murder Desma in cold blood the first chance she got. Freaking snitch!

"Okay." Pierre stood up, and had to hunch to avoid knocking his head against the ceiling. He stepped off the bed and turned for a second, with a small hopeful shrug, "I should go down first and try and do some damage control."

Ayame scoffed again, but Pierre had already vanished. He wasn't wrong. Her mother was usually milder when she dealt with Pierre than with her. So she waited a full minute before she followed her friend downstairs.

"That's not the point!" Mrs Yang could be heard shouting even from where Mei stood, outside her bedroom. "You're not the adult here Pierre! And now you're just in as much danger as she is!"

"Why are you overreacting to this?!" Pierre's voice was high and agitated. This was new. He didn't get annoyed with her mother, that was Ayame's job. She moved to the stairs slowly to get a better look at the pair.

They were standing in the centre of the living room. Mrs Yang with her back to the sofas and the conservatory, and Pierre facing it. Ayame slipped behind her mother and took a seat in the small dining table in the conservatory.

"I'm not overreacting," Mrs Yang said in a voice that was so calm, it was a little terrifying. "Neither of you idiots have any idea what you've done and it's too late to fix it." She exhaled a long, slow breath of air, "No more arguments, you have five minutes to pack and then we're leaving Lichtma."

Ayame stood up, knocking the chair behind her with an audible clatter, "What?!" she exclaimed, forgetting her discretion entirely. Her mother may have been in a position to make this decision legally, but it didn't make any of this okay.

Mrs Yang spun, perhaps taken aback by Ayame's presence for a fraction of a second. But she was able to conceal it immediately as she folded her arms across her chest, "My decision is final."

"What about my life here?" Ayame marched over to her mother, unable to express the anger that twisted her insides and made her sick.

Mrs Yang shook her head firmly, but there was no rage in her voice, "This is for your own good Ayame," she said calmly, "you bled on the stars." And her eyes flickered to the conservatory door and then to the main one before returning to Ayame, "I'm sorry. Pack a few clothes quickly."

"What about my friends?!" Ayame insisted next, was she expected to vanish from school? "And how exactly are we going to leave without permits?" she then demanded, folding her arms like her mother had done. The only route to the surface was inside the place city on top of the hill. There was no way to sneak out of Lichtma. No secret escape route in this prison.

"Mei," Mrs Yang said with another deliberate exhale, "we can argue about this later. I'm dragging you out of this house in two minutes with or without your bag." She turned to Pierre who was still frowning at her, "Both of you."

"No!" Ayame decided, planting her feet more firmly on the ground, "I want answers first!"

"Fine," Mrs Yang said, her voice tethering on the edge of calm as she sat down on a double-seater with far more force than was necessary, "one question each of you and then we leave the house without packing anything."

"Okay," Ayame agreed instantly, she racked her mind to ask the most important question, "Why are we leaving when the stars didn't even put me in trouble?"

"Because you're not a registered citizen," she answered speedily, and far too calmly. Ayame's already twisting insides snapped clean at this.

"What?!"

"Wait wait wait!" Pierre strode back to Ayame's side, "What do you mean she's not registered? Her name's in the school register!" He gasped, his eyes very round, "Is that why the stars let her go?"

Mrs Yang shook her head simply, "Too many questions," she said, and despite her demeanour, the woman's eyes flickered to the front door again, "choose one."

Pierre rolled his eyes, "Last one," he decided, not masking the bitterness in his voice.

"No," Mrs Yang said and grabbed a long knife concealed in a bowl of fruits on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Time's up, we're leaving." She stood up.

"That's not an answer!" Pierre raged, but Ayame's mother had already made her way to the front door.

Ayame intertwined her fingers with Pierre's before he could follow the woman, "No," she said stubbornly, "answer his question properly first."

Mrs Yang exhaled again, her exasperation more and more prominent, "This is not a question I want to answer here," she said, "you're far more special than you realise, Mei."

But neither of them moved.

"Okay," Ayame's mother relented, "I'll tell you this, you're not in this sphere illegally," she looked from Ayame to Pierre, "no one is more rightful a citizen than the two of you."

"But?" Ayame added, before her mother could end the conversation and try to run away again.

"But both your fathers pissed off the current king when they openly opposed him and your existence had to be kept a secret, and that is all I will say." She opened the front door, "Now move your bottoms."

But Ayame didn't. A rebellion? That's why her father was dead? Their fathers were no better than Steve. They threw away their lives because of a stupid rebellion? She had expected her father to be a loyal soldier. It was why they still lived in Sector 6, didn't they?

"I ... have more questions," Ayame finally said, her palms sweating for no reason now.

"I know, but not here," Mrs Yang's voice had softened, "once you're safe I'll tell you both everything, okay?"

Ayame nodded, finally letting go of Pierre's hand. Her mother's late-night "visitations" seemed to make a lot more sense now. She must have been part of the rebellion too. It was probably why she snuck food out so often. But everything about this was terrifying.

This was a real rebellion.

Nothing like Steve's flimsy attempts. People had died for this. Her life was about to be turned upside down because of this. She was sick again, for an entirely different reason now.

Ayame had barely made it to the door when her mother shoved her back without warning. She let out a soft gasp just as Pierre caught her. Just as their door gave away with a thunderous crash.

"Random check!" a voice called as a man crunched the broken splinter underneath his foot and made his way inside her home. He was tall, with slick greying blond hair and a clean-shaven face. He was also in white armour, the same kind that visited her nightmares. He didn't have a helmet on, but he didn't need one. This man was Hanshö.

Ayame's breath caught in her throat. Her legs refused to move.

It was happening.

They knew.

She spun to the right, where her mother had been thrown with the force of the door. But there was nothing there. Where did her mother go?

"The door was already open, asshat," Pierre snarled, standing in between the Hanshö and Ayame as the towering man in white armour approached them. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and stood tall, very obviously obscuring her from view.

"You look exactly like him," the Hanshö said with a grin, he cupped Pierre's face in his gloved hands, "right down to the attitude."

Pierre snatched his face away from the man's hand with a disgusted grunt, but said nothing. So far, nothing Pierre had done was illegal. The swearing might have been questionable, but there were no laws against it. Ayame was very glad she was with Pierre and not Steve right now. His overprotective nature aside, they had to be smart right now. Calm.

"I was there when your father died, little Meyer," the Hanshö then said, "right there when the bullet went through his skull."

Pierre's hands twitched.

"Shame we'll never know whose bullet dealt the killing shot," the Hanshö continued, leering so close to Pierre it made her see red, but she didn't move. He was goading them. She wasn't sure why he didn't just arrest them. He was clearly going to lengths to invent a reason for it.

The Hanshö moved even closer to Pierre until there was almost no space between them, "I hope it was mine," he whispered.

Ayame saw Pierre's fists clench and she pulled him back before he landed the punch, but the Hanshö was knocked to the side anyway. She felt her heart stop in that second. Pierre wasn't going to prison. Not because of her.

In one nimble motion, Ayame switched places with Pierre, "It was me!" she told the smug creep breathlessly, "I hit you!"

"No!" Pierre cried, but it was too late.

The Hanshö froze, as if suddenly noticing Ayame. His eyes trailed to her face and then her forehead. Ayame flattened her fringe self-consciously, just in case the monstrosity underneath it was peeking out.

The towering man stood up very slowly, "Impossible," he said, drawing a sword from his waist, "I killed you myself."

Ayame seemed to realise the reason for her mother's panic better than ever now, even if it was too late. She still felt brave, stupidly so. "Was that before or after you killed Pierre's father?" she demanded, planting herself firmly between the monster and Pierre.

"After," the Hanshö found his leering smile again, "long after your father was dead anyway." He took a step towards her, "At least now I know why Aegis was so interested in Sector 6."

"Aegis?" Ayame blinked, "Who's Aegis?"