"Sienna… Where were you?"
Misaki looked at me with those golden eyes that couldn't hide a thing. Her fingers were still trembling over my hand.
"Me?" I said, scratching the back of my neck. "I was in the bathroom. I accidentally dropped my phone in there… I got distracted looking for it."
(A lie. A white lie. I can't tell her what really happened in that locker room. Not yet.)
"Oh… okay…"
She gripped my hand tighter. Her knuckles went pale.
"How about we—" I started, trying to change the subject.
But when we reached the exit, I stopped cold.
There were seven of them.
Seven women dressed in navy blue tuxedos—immaculate, identical, as if they'd rolled off a military assembly line. They issued instructions to the students with curt, precise gestures. One was checking backpacks. Another was jotting names on a tablet. A third simply watched, hands behind her back, eyes hidden behind dark glasses.
"The Blue Sashes…" Misaki murmured.
"Blue Sashes?" I repeated. "What a stupid name. Let's just—"
"No!"
Her hand squeezed mine until the circulation cut off.
"No… We can't. Please, let's wait."
Her fingers were trembling. Her pulse was galloping beneath the skin. Fear. I know it. She's afraid.
(But why? Who are these women to make Misaki, always so composed, tremble like this?)
"Okay… Come on."
I gently guided her hand to my chest, over the beating of my heart.
"Let's just sit here for a bit, okay?"
"Here?" She lowered her gaze.
We sat on a marble bench near the entrance, without letting go of each other. The cold of the stone seeped through my skirt. The other students passed in front of us, greeted the women in blue, showed their IDs, and went on their way.
(Misaki is afraid. But why would she be? What did these women do to her? Or what did they do to someone she knows?)
"Misaki."
"…Yes?"
"How was your day?"
She looked me in the eyes. For a second, her expression wavered, as if the question had caught her off guard.
"My day… was very good. I loved having lunch with you."
(With "you." She said the formal "usted." Not "contigo." Always that invisible wall between us.)
I smiled and squeezed her hand.
"I loved having lunch with you too. You know what? I'd like to eat with you every day."
"Every day?" Her eyes lit up. "Of course… I'd love to eat together every day."
"Then we'll start today. And who knows… maybe we'll keep doing it until we're old ladies."
A soft breeze ruffled her black hair. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the stained glass of the entrance hall, tinting her cheeks with a warm, golden hue. Her tears, still fresh, dried slowly in the glow of the sunset.
"Of course," she said, and her voice was steadier now. "I will always be with you."
"That makes me—"
Thwack!
A dry smack on the back cut off my sentence.
"Goddammit! Who did th—? Ah!"
(Damn it. I'd already forgotten about that.)
There she was. Straight reddish hair almost covering her eyes. Blazer hanging crooked. Skirt twisted. The same defiant posture as always.
"Looks like you forgot, huh?"
"Miss Sienna…" Misaki blinked, looking between us. "Arisha, do you two know each other?"
"Of course I know her!" Arisha dropped onto the bench beside us, legs spread and arms draped over the backrest. "How could anyone not know the shooting star of Saint Vivian?"
"Yeah… I guess it'd be hard not to, right?" I replied, crossing my arms.
(Shooting star, huh? Sounds like a nickname for someone who's almost never around.)
"Hey, Misaki," I said, turning toward her. "Do I have game consoles at home?"
"Consoles?" Misaki tilted her head. "Video game consoles, I assume?"
"Yeah. Those."
"We have several in the entertainment room."
"Seriously, you have to ask your maid that?" Arisha interrupted, leaning back with a mocking grin.
"Hehehe… I see you're comfortable, Arisha."
She blushed slightly. Just a hint of color on her pale cheeks.
"You just smell nice. Don't get all self-absorbed…"
Misaki watched us in silence. Her eyes went from Arisha to me, from me to Arisha.
"I see you two are quite close," she said with a gentle smile. "Have you known each other for long?"
"This is the first time we've—"
"We met at the fest—"
Silence.
Our eyes collided. (Shit. I screwed up.)
"You forgot?" Arisha asked, raising an eyebrow.
"M-maybe I did…"
She dropped back onto the bench and shook her head.
"Don't worry. I get it. It can't be easy for you."
"Yeah…" I murmured, relieved she didn't press further. "For now, let's just ignore that. Anyway… back to business."
My eyes and Arisha's met. A spark of complicity.
"How much?" I asked.
"A traditional simulator is enough for me."
"A traditional one, huh? Should be easy… I think."
Misaki watched us the way someone watches two kids building a sandcastle. Her expression was tender. Almost maternal.
"So that's it, right?" Arisha asked.
"Yeah."
"We met up just for this?"
"Yeah. Kind of stupid, I think…"
Arisha snorted and held out her tablet toward me.
"Give me your number. So we don't waste any more time."
"Okay."
Beep-beep-beep. We exchanged contacts in a second.
(This is a normal conversation. This is what friends do. This is… nice.)
"Uh… ladies," Misaki's voice brought us back. "I think we should go. There are no more students left."
I looked up. The entrance hall was almost empty. Only us remained. And the seven women in tuxedos, waiting.
"Ah, right… no one's left near the jailers," Arisha murmured, standing up. "Well, see you tomorrow."
She walked away with her carefree stride, hands in the pockets of her crooked blazer
I placed my hands on Misaki's cheeks. Her skin was warm. Her eyes looked at me with surprise.
"It's time to go, isn't it?"
She shook her head, as if shooing away whatever was tormenting her.
"Yes. Let's go home."
We walked toward the exit. My steps were still limping; Misaki adjusted to my pace.
And then we saw Osvaldo. He was beside the black Mercedes, talking with three of the women in tuxedos. His expression was grim. His hands gestured with restrained tension.
"Osvaldo is talking with them…" I murmured. "That means…"
I looked at Misaki. Her face was empty. Expressionless. As if someone had turned off a light inside her.
I pressed my body against hers.
"Come on. Help me out a little more, okay?"
She looked at me. Then lowered her head.
"Yes… I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
One of the women in tuxedos detached from the group and planted herself in front of us. Her eyes were dark. Inert. Like two bottomless pits.
"Excuse me. Identification check. Please come with me."
Squeeze!
She grabbed my hand with a force that wrenched a groan from me.
"Ah! That hurts!"
"MORE CAREFUL, YES?!"
Misaki shouted. Her voice echoed against the marble columns. Her eyes gave off a pure, distilled hatred I'd never seen in her before. Her teeth were clenched. Her body trembled—but not from fear. From fury.
The woman in blue didn't even blink.
"I don't think you understood me, did you?"
Her dark eyes looked at us as if we were animals. As if we weren't worth the time she spent speaking to us.
"That's enough!"
Osvaldo approached with long strides. His voice was thunder.
"Don't cross the line, Blue Sash. That is not your duty."
"Forgive me, Mr. Osvaldo… I overstepped."
But she didn't turn away. She kept staring at us.
"Even so, the identification check must be done."
The other women said nothing. They only watched. Seven pairs of dark eyes, like camera lenses.
"That's—"
"Don't worry, Osvaldo."
I smiled. As wide as I could, even as my ankle throbbed and fear gnawed at my insides.
"I'll do it, okay?"
"Miss…"
"It's fine, it's fine. Misaki, okay? Just smile. Remember: smile."
I tried to tug one corner of my lip upward with my finger, imitating a ridiculous grin.
"Let's go, then."
The woman lifted me as if I weighed nothing. Princess style. Her arms were firm, impersonal, like those of a crane.
(Princess style… I guess it's the only option when you can't walk.)
They carried me to a small booth next to the school entrance. Inside, it smelled of disinfectant and something metallic. A folding cot. An open briefcase. Gauze. Bandages. And a needle with a strange yellow liquid.
"You remember the procedures, right?"
"The procedures? No… I'm sorry. I don't remember them."
The woman looked into my eyes. For a moment, something flickered in her dark pupils. Curiosity? Pity? I couldn't tell.
"Understood. Then I'll inject you and check if you no longer suffer a rejection. Okay?"
"Okay."
She took my left arm. Her touch was cold. Careful not to touch any veins, she inserted the needle under the skin of my forearm.
Pinch.
The yellow liquid entered my body.
And I felt the cold.
Not a normal cold. A cold that slithered upward from the injection point, climbed my arm, branched through my veins like liquid ice. My heart lurched.
"Eh…"
Drip.
Something warm trickled down from my nose. I brought my hand up. My fingers stained red.
"Blood…?"
The woman closed the briefcase with a metallic click. She didn't even look at me. She pulled out a cherry lollipop and handed it to me.
"I'm not… a little kid…"
"No. You're not." She stroked my head. Her hand was cold, but the gesture was… maternal? "Come on, get up."
She took me by the shoulder and guided me outside.
"Miss Sienna!"
Misaki hugged me before I could take another step. Her body wrapped around me—warm, trembling.
"I wanted to see you… but my gaze kept drifting away…"
"Miss… you're… you're bleeding."
Her tears fell onto my shoulder. Hot. Desperate.
Osvaldo approached quickly.
"Don't cry, Misaki. She's just tired. It's not the same."
(Not the same as what? What do you know, Osvaldo?)
My vision was fading. The edges of the world turned blurry, as if someone had drawn a gauze curtain over my eyes.
And then I saw it.
In the car. In the back seat of the black Mercedes.
A torso. A humanoid torso, dismembered, floating in the stale air of the vehicle. It was covered in eyes. Dozens of eyes. Eyelids that opened and closed without synchronicity. Pupils that stared at me without seeing me, that pierced me and devoured me at the same time.
"M-Misaki…" my voice was a thread. "There… in the… car…"
"Give her to me, Misaki."
Osvaldo took me in his arms.
"Let's go, Misaki. We have to get home."
"No…"
They were carrying me toward the car. Fear flooded me. I couldn't scream. I couldn't move. My body was a hollow shell approaching that thing.
The door opens.
"C… c…" —interference— "…si…" —interference— "…p… per…" —interference— "…don…"
Ahhh. Strange noises and words flooded my mind. Like a badly tuned radio. Like a scream drowned in static.
"M-Mr. Osvaldo… is she okay?"
"Yes. She'll be fine. She's strong."
"It's… it's just that she's shaking so much…"
Misaki's tears wouldn't stop. They fell on my face, on my hands, on my uniform stained with blood.
(I'd seen it before… but not now… not now…)
I tried to hug her, but my arms wouldn't respond.
"No… we can't take the normal route."
Osvaldo didn't turn his gaze. His hands clung to the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him sane.
"We can't…"
"We can't?" Misaki's voice cracked. "Is there nothing more important than—?"
"The Elector is here."
Silence.
Misaki froze. Her hand clung to mine.
I looked out the window. The car moved through streets I didn't recognize, flanked by propaganda posters. Faces of men and women promising peace, order, a future. Banners waved on every corner.
(The Elector… Who is the Elector? And why do we have to hide from him?)
Osvaldo spoke in a sad, almost inaudible voice:
"All we can do now is stay on the sidelines…"
Misaki squeezed my hand. Her lips moved in a trembling whisper:
"Oh Lord, please hear my call… May the darkness not reach my dwelling… May Your faeries protect our peace and tranquility… Do not let them rise again… May false kindness not deceive us again…"
It was a prayer. A desperate plea.