Day 119

[from Devastation Online]

In the aftermath of Lael'in's arrival, and her warning about the Devastators, humanity began preparing for the invasion that was to come. The world's militaries pooled their strength to form the Planetary Defence Force (PDF), a military organization dedicated to protecting the world from the Devastators; its headquarters was based in Arwing City, close to Lael'in's landing site.

The Alien Technology Research Center, or ATRAC, was set up further east in St. Leonard, with the aim of researching alien technology, such as that used by the Devastators and Lael'in, and attempting to reverse-engineer it for human use. With the impending invasion weighing heavily on the world's mind, the bulk of these applications were military in nature; however, Lael'in had not brought any weapons that they could reverse-engineer. She had, after all, been on a diplomatic mission.

Lael'in herself was taken to a special government facility, where she was cared for but also closely studied. The entirely facility was thoroughly sterilized and she was given numerous inoculations to protect her from the plethora of Earth diseases, to which her body would have built up no immunity. She also began learning English, and tried to teach her hosts Dae'loran in return, although the differences in syntax between the two languages made it rather difficult to translate coherently between them.

The Devastators did not come for almost six months. In that time, the PDF had learned to harness a mystical force that the Dae'lora possessed, allowing them to manifest all manner of supernatural powers such as fire, ice, lightning, healing abilities, and numerous others. It was found that cocoa was able to act as a weak fuel source for this power, allowing humans who consumed it to harness it, and so the price of cocoa went up considerably. Lael'in also introduced the PDF to a lightweight metal called "Bor'ael", which was native to Dae'lora and which could block the effects of this force. Though it was physically weak, ATRAC engineers were able to produce an alloy of Bor'ael and iron dubbed "Bor'en", which combined their defensive properties.

In the meantime, a religious cult known as "Steel Heaven" had begun to form around the Devastators. The Steel Heaven cultists believed that the Devastators would purge the Earth of the wicked and bring about a new age of humanity. At the same time, the wait caused a few people to start doubting that the Devastators would ever arrive at all, and questioning whether the whole thing was merely an elaborate hoax. They would, however, find out in time that the invasion was all too horribly real.

One day the PDF detected a metallic sphere heading towards Earth at extremely high speed. It was undoubtedly sent by the Devastators - it bore a distinct radio signature that Lael'in had warned them to look out for - but a single sphere by itself did not constitute an invasion, and in any case the object was too small and too fast for them to try and destroy. The sphere thus posed a quandary for the PDF, and ultimately it was decided to simply allow the object to land and then attempt to destroy it once it had done so. When the landing site was calculated to be a town near the Aurora coast, northwest of Arwing, the town was abruptly evacuated.

Less than three days after its initial detection, the sphere struck the town and completely obliterated it, killing the few remaining people who had not abandoned. Shortly after landing, the radio signals from the sphere began to grow even stronger, and several hours later, the first Devastators began to appear, warping through space-time and manifesting themselves near the sphere. The sphere turned out to be a homing beacon, launched by the Devastators in order to allow them to warp from the Devastator homeworld straight onto Earth. The invasion had now begun.

Before long, the city of Barriston to the south was attacked and almost completely destroyed. The Route 101 highway that ran through Barriston was over-run by Devastators and became a no-go area. Strategic blockages prevented the Devastators from reaching the key coastal port of Bridgestone, to the west of Barriston, but instead they made their way northwards, and towards Carston to the south-west. The PDF have thus far managed to hold the Devastators off at Carston, but the town has suffered significant damage, and the fighting there continues.

 The Steel Heaven cultists, meanwhile, constructed their own gated community to the east of the Devastator landing site. Known as "Heaven's Gate", the walled-off city has so far been safe from Devastator attacks, with some theorizing that the Devastators are capable of discerning that Steel Heaven see them as allies.

During the conflict, other Dae'lora have followed Lael'in to Earth, seeking to help the PDF in their battle against the Devastators. Inspired by the tenacity of mankind, they have given humanity the native name "Dae'in", meaning "strong, admirable warriors". Many Dae'lora have joined Aurora's beleaguered hospitals, using their powerful healing spells to help them cope with the massive influx of patients wounded by the Devastators. Others have forsaken their race's peaceful nature and taken up arms, joining the PDF's ranks and taking the fight directly to the Devastators, determined not to let another planet fall victim to the machines.

Shortly after the Devastators' arrival, a third race of aliens arrived: the Reavers. This race, who appeared to speak English already, responded to PDF communications with a message stating that they were not intending to participate in the war, but simply to take advantage of it to plunder Earth's riches. The PDF, who already had their hands full taking care of the Devastators, decided to permit the Reavers' activities for now, but have also begun a propaganda campaign aiming to convince some of the Reavers to join the PDF. Steel Heaven have also begun a similar campaign, aiming to recruit some of the Reavers.

ATRAC, meanwhile, are attempting to recover the remains of defeated Devastators, hoping to either discern the machines' weaknesses and build weapons that can exploit them, or even build their own Devastators that would work for the PDF and could combat the machines on a more even footing. Those days are still some way off, but the PDF sincerely hope that the technology gleaned from the Dae'lora, Devastators, and even the Reavers, will be the key to ending the conflict and destroying the Devastators.

Day 118

[from StarLight]

"I know your secret, Sanae Hikari!"

The accusation came out of nowhere, as Sanae was innocently making her way through the corridors to have lunch. For a moment, she legitimately panicked that somebody had discovered she was White Star. Then she realized it was just Kazuo, who probably had another of his insane theories to throw at her. "Oh?" she asked sarcastically. "And what secret would that be?"

"You are White Star!" declared Kazuo, pointing dramatically at Sanae.

Once again, Sanae panicked for a moment before realizing that this was still Kazuo making the accusation. It was likely that his reasoning was complete nonsense, and that he'd arrived at a correct deduction completely by accident. And in any case, nobody ever believed a word he said. Even so…

"Don't be so ridiculous," said Sanae, chuckling nervously. "What on earth makes you think that?"

"Your hair!" bellowed Kazuo, holding up a blown-up photo of White Star that he had printed out. It was rather pixelated, but White Star's purple hair was clearly visible. "Your hair is the same colour, and roughly the same length as White Star's!"

"Wait, that's your proof?" asked Sanae, amused. "That's your entire proof that I'm White Star? I don't know what I was expecting, to be honest, but come on, you have to admit that that's pretty flimsy."

"Do you deny it?" asked Kazuo, his glasses glinting dangerously. "Do you deny being White Star?"

Sanae rolled her eyes, and decided to play along with Kazuo's games for once. Nobody would believe him anyway. "Okay, you got me," she said sarcastically, holding her hands up in mock surrender. "I'm White Star."

"Aha!" declared Kazuo, jabbing his finger at Sanae. "You admitted it!" Turning to the nearest people, a pair of first-years who really couldn't have cared less, Kazuo shouted, "Did you hear that? She just admitted she was White Star!"

"No I didn't," said Sanae innocently.

"Yes you did!" said Kazuo, before scrambling to retrieve something from his jacket. "I can prove it, see? I caught it on tape!"

"That's a granola bar," said Sanae blankly, pointing to Kazuo's outstretched hand.

"Huh? Oh, so it is," said Kazuo, as he caught sight of the green-wrapped bar held in his hand. Shrugging, he unwrapped it and took a bite. "But mark my words, Sanae," he mumbled through a mouthful of granola, "I will prove that you are White Star, just as I will prove that the American President is actually a Martian bent on world domination! Hey, this is a pretty good granola bar." Kazuo took another bite. "I will expose your secrets, Sanae Hikari!"

"Yeah, good luck with that," said Sanae.

"Thank you," said Kazuo, the sarcasm going right over his head. "But for now, I must investigate why I only got 28% on my latest science test. I suspect that the teacher is secretly an Illuminati clone."

"Or maybe you're just an idiot," muttered Sanae.

"What was that?" asked Kazuo.

"I said you might be right about that," said Sanae. "You go investigate that, okay?"

"Alright," said Kazuo. "I'll see you later, Sanae… or should I say, White Star!" With that, Kazuo attempted to make a dramatic exit, but the impact was lessened somewhat by the half-eaten granola bar still hanging out of his mouth.

"What was that all about?" asked Amaya, as he hurried up to Sanae; she had been in the bathroom until now.

"Just another one of Kazuo's crazy theories," said Sanae. "Don't listen to him."

"I never do," said Amaya. "So, shall we head up to the roof, then?"

"Of course!" said Sanae.

Day 117

[from Faction]

"We need to have a serious talk about your recklessness."

"Why?" asked Shelley, sounding genuinely confused. "We killed all the enemies and secured the objective, right?"

Tyler's response was to simply prod Shelley's heavily-bandaged abdomen with a finger, causing her to wince. The Faction had been cleared away from the supermarket and the remaining food secured, though some of it was already out of date. With a path into the city already cleared, the army could now begin delivering food supplies to the beleaguered populace. That wasn't the end of it, of course. The Faction were sure to either attack the food convoys, try and retake the supermarket, or both.

For now, though, Tyler and his small resistance group were back at their hideout, an abandoned, heavily-fortified elementary school. Specifically, they were in the nurse's station, which had been transformed by Dr. Hristov into a makeshift hospital. Shelley was currently lying in one of the hospital beds that had been crammed into the small space, having being shot repeatedly during the mission to retake the supermarket. Although she had been wearing body armour, otherwise her injuries could have been fatal, the bullets had still left some nasty bruises.

"You can't go on a mission in this state," said Tyler. "That means we're one member down, which puts us at even more of a disadvantage. The Faction have hundreds of members here, if not thousands, and we need every member we can get. So you going and getting yourself shot so stupidly is a real pain in the ass."

"Sorry," said Shelley, pouting in a way that made it clear she wasn't sorry at all.

"Look," said Tyler, "just… don't be so reckless in future, okay? Stay behind cover, don't rush ahead, and don't isolate yourself from us. I appreciate your enthusiasm, as creepy as it may be sometimes, but the last thing we want is for you to get killed."

"Alright, I get it," said Shelley. "I'll be more careful next time, alright?"

"Good," said Tyler.

"So, what's the next mission?" asked Firebrace. "Shouldn't we start planning that before long?"

"I think, before any more missions, we should think about finding more people to join us," said Tyler. "Five people is a nice number, but it's nowhere near enough for a final assault on the Faction headquarters, which is our end objective, after all."

Tyler couldn't help glancing over at James. During the first few days of their invasion and takeover, the Faction had rounded up hundreds of civilians and taken them by helicopter to their headquarters, a massive sixty-storey tower block in the financial district that they had hijacked for their own purposes. James' girlfriend, Louise, had been one of those taken, and the team had come across him after he had tried to fight his way to the Faction HQ all by himself to rescue her, and been injured in the process. At first he had been impatient, insisting that they tackle the HQ first, but he had since conceded that the rest of the city needed to be cleared out first, and the group strengthened, before they could even think about attacking the heavily-fortified skyscraper.

Unsurprisingly, James nodded in agreement. "Sounds good to me," he said. "The army are arriving tomorrow, right? To secure the path into the city? We could sure use their help."

"You think the army are gonna co-operate with a bunch of guerrillas?" asked Tyler skeptically.

"Course we would," said Firebrace, grinning. "We'd make a pact with Satan if it helped get the job done. Course, that hasn't really worked too well for us in the past… came back to bite us big-time with Afghanistan…"

"We're not the Taliban," said James. "All we want is for this city to be free, and for our loved ones to be safe. Nothing more."

"I know," said Firebrace, "and the army know that as well. So yeah, they'll work with us."

"They damn well better," said Shelley. "We've been busting our asses fighting the Faction, and where have they been?" Suddenly clutching her aching chest, Shelley forced herself to calm down, resting herself back against the cool white sheets of the hospital bed.

"Alright, we'll go out tomorrow when the convoy arrives, and make sure the army are willing to work with us and any other guerrillas who are fighting the Faction," said Tyler. "If there are any other guerrillas out there, hopefully they'll get the same idea, and we can all meet up and discuss joining forces. But for now, I think we could all use some rest. Some of us-" he glared pointedly at Shelley "-more than others."

"Good idea," said Firebrace. "Let's head back to our bunks."

"Should I stay here and look after Shelley?" asked Dr. Hristov.

"Yeah, but don't stay too late," said Tyler. "You need your rest as well, Doc."

"I know of the importance of rest," said Dr. Hristov, folding his arms. "I am a doctor, you know."

"Good," said Tyler. "We'll see you later, then." Tyler, Firebrace and James made their way out of the medical room, heading back towards their bunks, leaving Dr. Hristov alone with his patient.

Day 116

[from The Ember Stone]

As Jacob approached the spot at which he had found the stone, he saw a strange woman standing over the impact site. She had long, wavy blue hair that fell to her waist, and wore a sweeping blue dress with a low neckline, as a member of the aristocracy might. Jacob had never seen her like before. He wondered what business she might have with this stone.

The woman suddenly noticed Jacob, turning her attention to him and making her way towards him. "Hey, you, boy!" she called out. "There was a small red stone lying in the grass here, wasn't there? Did you see it? Do you know what happened to it?"

Jacob was slightly alarmed by the woman's aggressive tone of questioning. Somehow, his instincts told him that this woman was not to be trusted. He quickly shook his head. "N-no, I didn't see anything like that…" he said.

The woman stood menacingly before Jacob, towering over him. "I don't believe you," she said. "I think you know perfectly well where that stone is. In fact, I think you have it on you right now."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about-" objected Jacob feebly.

Suddenly, without warning, five watery tendrils shot out of the woman's fingertips, wrapping around Jacob's body and gripping him tightly, preventing him from moving. Two of the tendrils slid into his pocket and took out the small red stone. All the while, an astonished Jacob attempted to process what on earth was going on. He'd never seen anything like this before. Who was this woman, and why did she want this stone so badly?

"So you did have the stone," said the woman, smiling in triumph. "You know, I don't appreciate it when people lie to me. I think I'll kill you now, and-"

"Not so fast!"

A burst of flame suddenly struck the ground next to the woman, setting the grass near her on fire. Unfazed, the woman turned round to view the new arrival, and Jacob's gaze followed, his mouth agape as he struggled to keep up with what was happening. Walking towards the pair of them was a girl with fiery red hair, wearing a red and black tunic. Flames smouldered around her fingertips, and there was an vicious fire burning in her amber eyes. She did not seem the slightest bit intimidated by the woman standing in front of her, even though said woman was several inches taller than her and currently had several long watery tendrils extending from her fingertips.

The woman herself was similarly unfazed by the newcomer. "So you must be Erica, the Ember Stone Guardian," she said. "You're too late, Erica. I have already taken the first Shard, and once I dispose of this boy-"

"What? You're really gonna kill this innocent kid, who has no idea what's going on here?" Erica seemed more amused than sickened by this. "You really are a heartless witch, huh?"

"He got in the way," said the woman, "as have you."

"I really don't have any idea what's going on he- ACK!" Jacob tried to plead his innocence, but to no avail, and the woman merely tightened the tendrils' grip on him. He was now struggling to breathe, let alone move.

"Unhand that boy now!" insisted Erica.

"I will not," said the woman, "and you cannot make me, Ember Guardian."

Sensing she was getting nowhere, and that she probably couldn't beat a water elemental in a straight fight, Erica decided to change tack. "Don't you have nine more Shards to be collecting?" she asked slyly. "Every minute you spend here is a minute you could be out searching for them. You'll have plenty of time to kill us both once your master Vaz'qui collects all ten. That is who you're working for, right?"

This unexpected suggestion gave the woman thought for pause. "You would really give up this Shard in order to save this boy's life?" she asked.

"Sure, why wouldn't I?" Erica remarked. "It's doesn't matter if you have one of them, so long as you don't get all ten. I'd say it's a pretty fair trade."

The woman paused for a moment further, then nodded. "Fine. Then I will spare you both, this time. But the next time either of you crosses Caerulea, Mistress of the Waves, you will be destroyed. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes!" stammered Jacob. "Crystal clear!"

The tendrils loosened themselves from Jacob's body, and the weary boy collapsed to the ground as Caerulea's hand reformed into a normal hand. Then, in a flurry of spray, she was gone, taking the Shard with her, leaving only an amused-looking Erica, and an extremely confused young farmhand.

"Are you alright, kid?" asked Erica. "That must've been pretty scary, huh?"

For a moment, Jacob was speechless, trying to take in everything that had just occurred and trying to think of the right thing to say at the end of it all. Finally, he asked the first question he could think of: "What… just happened?"

Day 115

[from Striker Man]

"You think Ryan's done with his exams yet?" asked Striker Man. "It's been seven weeks now." In that time, Striker Man and friends had been stuck in the temple, unable to proceed with the storyline without the narrator present. Striker Man was currently sitting on a swinging pendulum of doom, casually reading Steven Gerrard's autobiography - "I like the part where he doesn't win the Premier League" - while The Genius was attempting to play poker with Stuporwoman. The key word in that sentence is "attempting".

"Three nines," said The Genius, laying her hand out on the table. "What do you possess, Stuporwoman?"

Stuporwoman took one look at the cards in her hand, and then ate them all. "I'm hungry," she said.

"Why do I even endeavour…" muttered The Genius. "Nevertheless, now that the narrator is present, we can advance."

"Can it wait a minute?" asked Striker Man. "I've just gotten to the part where Stevie G doesn't win the Premier League."

"You're the one who was complaining for two score and eleven days that we were impuissant to advance due to the narrator's nonattendance!" complained The Genius. "And you've been making those Steven Gerrard jokes for an entire month now! It is not amusing!"

"Someone's a Liverpool fan~" said Striker Man jokingly.

The Genius sighed, but otherwise ignored him. "Let's just get going," she said. "Come on, Stuporwoman."

Stuporwoman gobbled up the rest of the playing cards, then followed The Genius as the two stick figures headed further down the dimly-lit sandstone passageway. Striker Man, realizing they really were going to leave him behind, quickly scrambled off of the swinging axe and followed them, stowing his Steven Gerrard book away in that strange hammerspace that all stick figured were apparently able to access.

"How much further do you think this goes?" asked Striker Man.

"Probably a substantial distance," The Genius replied.

"We'd better press on, then," said Striker Man, "so we can get to the end before the narrator stops writing again for another six weeks."

Stuporwoman suddenly burped, regurgitating a playing card that she then snatched out of the air. It was the ace of spades. "Is this your card?" she asked, showing it to Striker Man.

"How do you keep doing that?" asked the incredulous stick figure.

"Doing what?" asked Stuporwoman, shortly before burping up the queen of diamonds.

Suddenly there was a loud clunk, as The Genius stepped on a loose floor tile. "Watch out!" she cried out. A second later, a hail of poisoned arrows began firing at the group from every direction. Of course, with the trio being mere stick figures, not a single arrow struck them, and the arrows clattered harmlessly to the floor. "Well, that was a pointless trap," remarked The Genius.

"I'd say it had rather a lot of points," quipped Striker Man. The Genius groaned at the terrible pun, and the three continued on their way.

After a few more minutes of walking and mild peril, including Striker Man almost falling down into a pit of spikes, the trio finally came across a heavy stone door. "This has gotta be the entrance to the treasure room!" said Striker Man.

"If so, then there will most likely be some manner of ambuscade ready to ensnare us," said The Genius.

"I don't think ambulances count as treasure," said Striker Man, a little confused.

"Ambuscades!" insisted The Genius. "It means traps! Opening this door will set off some kind of trap! I explained this to you in the previous instalment!"

"Oh yeah, so you did," said Striker Man. "I guess the narrator must have forgotten. Doesn't matter, the audience probably will have forgotten as well."

"Well, anyway," said The Genius, "we should be very careful when opening this-"

SLAM. Before the other two could react, Stuporwoman had rushed forward and charged into the door, knocking it down. The stone slab landed on the floor with an almighty crash, opening the doorway to the treasure room. In spite of The Genius' warnings, nothing else happened, except for a dizzy Stuporwoman staggering backwards and then vomiting up a straight flush. Striker Man poked his head inside the treasure room and quickly let out a gasp.

Inside the treasure room were numerous gigantic piles of gold coins, some of them stacked as high as the ceiling. There were other riches too: mounds of silver, heaps of precious gems, mountains of jewellery. And under the laws of finders-keepers, it was all theirs.

"Loot at all this- I mean, look at all this loot!" exclaimed Striker Man. "There's enough here for The Gaffer to turn our club into the next Barcelona! Heck, we could even buy Barcelona with all this loot! We could buy the entire league!"

"Or fund the cure for cancer!" suggested The Genius.

"Or buy lots and lots of pickles!" suggested Stuporwoman.

"Or we could just keep it all to ourselves," suggested Striker Man, prompting glares from the other two.

"Well, first we must retrieve it from within these catacombs," said The Genius. "Let the plundering commence!"

"Yeah," said Striker Man, "and let's start taking the loot while we're at it."

The three of them made their way into the treasure room. Still there were no traps going off. "I don't like it," said Striker Man. "It's too quiet."

"I'll take care of that!" said Stuporwoman, and with that she started spontaneously beat-boxing.

"That wasn't really what I had in mind," remarked Striker Man, "but thanks anyway."

Striker Man came to a halt in front of a particularly large pile of gold. "I think I'll start with this pile!" he said. "This will be our new 100,000 seater football ground, complete with golden lavatories, golden labradors, and a fifty-foot statue of Maxim Tsigalko! Made entirely out of gold, of course. Now, come to Striker Man…"

Striker Man reached out for the gold, but the moment his hand touched the pile, the entire room suddenly started to tremble ominously, the coins on the pile jittering and teetering. "What did you do?" asked The Genius wearily.

"I didn't do anything-" said Striker Man.

"FREE!" bellowed a voice that came from seemingly nowhere. "AT LONG LAST, I AM FREE!"

"I hope that's a genie, come to give us three wishes," said Striker Man.

"Ooh! Ooh! I wish for pickles!" said Stuporwoman excitedly.

Sadly, it was not a genie. Instead, from out of the enormous pile of coins came a ghostly-white stick figure with a long purple cape that fluttered out behind him despite the lack of wind. His eyes were completely red, and glowed faintly in the dim light of the treasure room. "I AM FREE!" proclaimed the figure. "NOW THAT I HAVE RETURNED TO THIS WORLD, I, FARUK AL-FARUK, WILL SET ABOUT CONQUERING IT AS I DID THREE-THOUSAND YEARS AGO!"

As Striker Man and The Genius looked on in horror, an oblivious Stuporwoman asked, "Do I still get my three wishes?"

Day 114

[from StarLight]

As the bell rang to signal the start of homeroom, the classroom door opened and a pretty woman in a generic teacher's outfit stepped inside. She was in her early-to-mid twenties, had long brown hair, and generally resembled almost every other anime teacher in existence. It was reasonable to assume that she was also single and had a massive complex about it, but that's a story for another day.

Despite her seemingly generic appearance, Sanae and Amaya recognized her immediately as their science teacher from last year. "That's Inaba-sensei!" said Sanae excitedly. "We're going to have Inaba-sensei as our homeroom teacher for this year!"

"Nice!" said Amaya, smiling. "She's the best teacher ever! Except for that one from Kiniro Mosaic."

"Alright, settle down, everyone," said Inaba-sensei, motioning for her class to be quiet. "I'm sure some of you will know me already, but for those who don't, my name is Inaba-sensei. I'm going to be your homeroom and science teacher for this year." Picking up a piece of chalk, she wrote "YUI INABA - HOMEROOM TEACHER" on the chalkboard, then turned round and bowed politely to her students. "I hope we all get along well."

"Now, there's a few things we need to sort out," Inaba-sensei continued. "Firstly, and most importantly, we need to decide on your seating allocations for this year." From behind her desk, Inaba-sensei produced an upside-down top hat filled with small pieces of paper. "When I call your name, you will come up to the desk and take a piece of paper out of the hat. Written on that paper will be your seat for this year. There will be no arguments and no trading of seats, understood?" There was a general murmur of agreement from the class, and Inaba-sensei pulled up the class roster. "Okay then… Kojima, you get first pick."

As Kojima went up to the front to select his seat, Sanae patiently awaited her turn. She didn't need to wonder which seat she was going be assigned: since she was the protagonist, she was guaranteed to get seat 4A, the one second from the back on the leftmost row, next to the window. Every self-respecting anime protagonist had that seat. There was no way she wouldn't-

***

"What is this?"

Seat 2F. The seat second from the front, on the rightmost row. Sanae had been assigned the seat completely opposite to the one she had wanted.

"Is there a problem, Hikari?" asked Inaba-sensei.

"Yes!" said Sanae. "I'm the protagonist, I can't sit in this seat! I'm supposed to have that seat!" She pointed at her preferred seating location.

"Sorry, Hikari, but that's just how it goes," said Inaba-sensei. "You have your seat, now please sit down so I can call the next person."

"But it's not fair!" said Sanae, pouting. "I deserve a better seat than this!"

Inaba-sensei leaned across the desk, glaring at Sanae. "I deserve to be in a better anime than this," she retorted, "but we can't always get what we want, Hikari."

With a sigh, Sanae resigned herself to her situation, and slunk off to the seat she had been assigned to, sitting down at the desk with a sour look on her face. Her expression brightened up a little when Amaya sat down at the adjacent desk a few minutes later. "Looks like we'll be sitting next to each other this year," she said.

"Well, that's something, I guess," said Sanae.

"Bummed that you didn't get that nice window seat?" asked Amaya.

"You bet I am," said Sanae. "Who did get that seat, anyway?"

Looking over, Sanae and Amaya noticed a bored-looking male sat in the seat Sanae had so desperately wanted. He was mostly unremarkable except for his hair, which was bright blue with golden streaks and stuck out all over the place like a technicolour explosion. He may well have been the protagonist of his own anime.

"I didn't know there was a card game anime being filmed here," remarked Amaya.

Day 113

[from Cyborg Team Alpha]

"Do you understand what I've just told you?"

In the time it had taken the woman to explain Ichiko's predicament to her, the girl lying in the hospital bed had finally regained full use of her senses, and was feeling the control return to her body. Her limbs still felt somewhat numb, but she at least seemed to be able to use them now; her hands were curled tightly into fists as she tried to process what she had just heard. She had died. She had been blown apart, and then put back together again. She was a Cyborg now.

"I'm really sorry," continued the voice. Ichiko still could not see the owner of the voice, though she could tell that it was genuinely remorseful about her satiation. "I know how upsetting this must be for you. Believe me, it was upsetting for me as well." So this woman is a Cyborg as well, Ichiko realized. "But you shouldn't worry," the woman continued. "We'll be here for every step of your recovery, to help you get used to your new Cyborg parts. In time, you won't even realize you have them."

"That's not strictly true," said the male voice. Though Ichiko could hear everything else as clear as day now, the man's voice still sounded slightly muffled, as though he were speaking with his mouth hidden behind a scarf. "I hate to tell you this, Ichiko, but being a Cyborg isn't something you can just forget about. Especially not with the level of conversion you've had to undergo. But what I think she means is… before long, you'll be able to do everything you were able to do before your conversion. And quite a few things you couldn't."

At this point, as she felt her voice returning, Ichiko decided that she had to ask the numerous questions that were preying on her mind, swirling around like a violent storm inside her head. The moment she removed her oxygen mask, pulling it away from her face with trembling fingers, the most important question of all came weakly forth from between her pale lips. "Why?" she gasped. "Why… did you do this…?"

The male answered this one. "You are a teenage prodigy, Ichiko," he said. "From what I've heard, your test scores are among the highest in the country, and you're one of the finest chess prodigies in the world. When we heard what had happened to you, we decided we had to save you, to preserve your intellect, for the good of Japan."

Ichiko didn't have to ask who the man meant by "we". There was only one place in Japan capable of resurrecting a person as a Cyborg: the Toriyama Institute, the world's leading research centre when it came to cybernetics, and the inventor of the Cyborg System by which the recently-deceased could be resurrected as Cyborgs. But… didn't they shut down after the war?

For now, however, there was a far more pressing question to be asked. "You said… a bomb…" gasped Ichiko. "Who… planted it…?" She had a feeling she knew the culprits already, but she wanted to be sure.

"The Rising Sun have claimed responsibility for the bombing," said the woman. "We don't know specifically who planted it, but believe me, we're working with the police as hard as we can to track them down and apprehend them. They won't get away with what they did to you."

Ichiko nodded, her hands clenching tighter. She knew it. The Rising Sun. They were an ultra-nationalist movement that had sprung up three years ago, beginning a campaign of terror against the Japanese government. It was easy to understand their reasons for hating the government, after the five years of war that had engulfed the region during the first years of Ichiko's life. Their methods, however, were far less agreeable. To everyone but themselves, the Rising Sun were nothing more than violent terrorists, who were destabilizing a country that had only just been getting back on its feet.

There was one more vital question to be asked. "How bad… is it? I… I want to see…"

The female hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure you want to see?" she asked eventually. "It's going to be quite a shock for you-"

"I'll have to… see it at… some point," breathed Ichiko, who could already feel herself starting to tire. In her current condition, just speaking was far more effort than it normally would have been. "It… might as well be… now. I'm… ready."

"She sounds just like I did," remarked the male. He's also a Cyborg… I wonder how many others are here. I thought they were all shut down… "Go ahead, Gumi. Show her."

There was relative silence for a moment while Gumi, presumably the female, went to fetch something, presumably a mirror. Then footsteps, and when Gumi spoke again she was standing right beside Ichiko, leaning over the bed a little. "I'm going to remove the bandages over your face now," she said. "Take a deep breath."

Ichiko did as she was told, and slowly, she felt the layers of bandages peel away from her face. The darkness slowly began to recede, but it was not until the bandages were removed completely that she could finally see. As her eyes settled on her reflection in the mirror being held above her face, the horrible reality of what had happened to her finally hit home.

Most of the right side of her face was gone. In its place was a patchwork of steel-grey metallic panels, stitched together with micro-joints to replicate the flexibility of her facial muscles. Her right eye, however, bore no resemblance to her left whatsoever, and she finally realized why she had been unable to close or even blink it. Set in her right eye socket, surrounded by the fake metal skin, was a glowing green artificial eye that resembled an old laser pointer more than an actual eye. The emerald glow was reflected by the mirror back into her eye, until it seemed to consume the entire right-hand side of her face, leaving only half a shocked expression staring back at her. It was both her face and not her face at the same time.

"As you can see, the explosion caused quite a lot of facial damage," said Gumi. "We'll make it look prettier, trust me-"

"What else?" breathed Ichiko, almost unconsciously. A tear rolled down from her left eye, running down her cheek before dripping onto her sheets; her robotic right eye could not and did not weep. "What else did they take from me?"

Gumi let out a heavy sigh before continuing, in a surprisingly more direct manner. "Your left hand. Your right arm, at the shoulder. Your legs, just above the knee. Part of your lower-right torso. All these things were lost in the explosion, and have been rebuilt. Again, I'm very sorry. I wish we hadn't had to have done this to you."

Ichiko looked away, closing her left eye. She could not bear to look anymore. It wasn't that she hated what she had become; it was that she hated what the Rising Sun had done to her. She could feel the pain returning to her extremities, her arms and legs aching as an unfamiliar fury started to well up inside her. They killed me… I'm going to get them back for that.