ECHOBURN

The wind carried salt and smoke over the ruins of the facility. Steam hissed from cracked vents, and somewhere in the distance, gulls cried into the ash-colored sky. Team Bravo lingered among the wreckage, no longer in battle stance, just kids again—sweaty, tired, and unsure what had just happened.

Ren sat on the edge of a fallen beam, his shirt half-torn and blood drying on his arm. Juno crouched beside him, pulling a small med kit from her bag. "Hold still," she muttered, tearing open a wipe. She dabbed gently at the blood, hissing under her breath. "This is gonna sting." Ren didn't flinch. He just watched her work, quiet and still.

Kara stood nearby, tapping through her cracked phone screen. "No signal," she muttered, then brightened. "Wait. Got a bar. Calling in a car."

Juno arched an eyebrow. "Not one of those blacked-out academy vans, right?"

"Nope," Kara said. "My brother's old ride. He owes me. We're going normal today."

Daisuke flopped down onto a crate. "God, I need a soda. And a nap. In that order."

His eyes flicked to Ren. "So... you a transfer or something?"

Ren looked up, blinking. "Kind of."

"Where from?"

He hesitated. "I don't really remember."

Juno tilted her head. "That's a weird answer."

"I'm kind of a weird person."

Rei stood leaning against a wall, arms crossed. "Dorm?"

"Seven."

Juno smirked. "Ah. The ghost dorm."

A low rumble echoed from the road. The car arrived—an old silver sedan with tinted windows, dust-covered and dented, but still alive. Kara jogged to the driver's side, chatted briefly, then waved them all over.

They piled in, backpacks scraping the roof, knees pressed awkwardly together. Daisuke rode shotgun. Juno sat by the window, Kara in the middle, Ren by the opposite door.

"Hope you like long rides with no personal space," Kara said.

Ren didn't answer.

"So," Juno said after a few minutes. "You always this quiet?"

"I don't know."

"Do you at least play games?"

"I don't think so."

Rei's voice floated from the front. "He fights like he's done this his whole life, but doesn't even know what gaming is. He's either lying... or he's something else."

Daisuke chuckled. "Maybe he's a failed science experiment. Escaped from a lab."

Ren stared out the window. "Wouldn't that be something."

Tokyo arrived like a splash of neon and noise.

Bright signs flickered. People bustled through crosswalks. Music played from corner stores and restaurants. It was another world entirely from the silence of the facility.

They stopped outside a 24-hour convenience shop near Shibuya.

Inside, Kara grabbed two energy drinks and a bag of wasabi peas. Daisuke made a beeline for fried chicken skewers. Juno browsed weird flavored gum. Ren picked up a single water bottle and stood staring at the soda fridge longer than necessary.

Outside, they sat on a curb under a blinking streetlamp.

"Try this," Kara said, offering Ren a chip. He sniffed it, cautiously took a bite, and winced.

Juno laughed. "That face. Priceless."

For a while, they just talked. Not about the fight. Not about school. Just nonsense. Jokes. Complaints. Food.

Juno leaned over and said quietly, "I don't know if you scare me or impress me."

Ren looked at her. "I'm not sure either."

The ride back was slower. The radio buzzed between stations.

Daisuke yawned. "Still can't believe you turned that thing into mashed shadow."

Juno: "I'm still stuck on how you don't even know what dorm food tastes like."

Ren, dry: "Should I be scared?"

Kara grinned. "Of the food? Absolutely."

Lights faded. Trees replaced towers. The academy's perimeter walls loomed ahead.

The car stopped just outside the gate. One by one, they climbed out.

Daisuke stretched. "We better not have morning drills. I'm skipping."

Kara: "You say that every time. Then whine when you miss breakfast."

Juno nudged Ren. "Next time, we're dragging you to karaoke."

Ren blinked. "...What's karaoke?"

They all stared.

Then they burst out laughing.

Their voices carried into the quiet night as the academy gates opened and swallowed them back into its waiting halls.

For now, just for a moment—