Pathro walked down the sterile, white corridor of the medical facility. The quiet hum of machinery and the faint scent of disinfectant were the only companions to his thoughts.
"Sir!"
A voice rang out behind him, clear and female. He didn't react, his mind elsewhere.
"Sir!" The call came again, closer now, with a note of insistence. Finally, the realization clicked—he was the 'Sir.' He turned to see a nurse, her uniform crisp, her expression a mix of professional urgency and relief as she hurried toward him. She was strikingly beautiful, with intelligent eyes that held his for a moment.
"What seems to be the problem?" Pathro asked, curious at her breathless approach.
She stopped before him, placing a hand on her chest to steady her breathing. "I've been… trying to catch up with you," she managed, then reached into a small purse at her hip. She retrieved two items: a sleek, black communicator phone and a laminated ID card.
Pathro's eyes widened. "That's… those are my things."
"We removed them before admitting you," she explained, handing them over with a practiced smile. "Standard hospital procedure for incoming critical care."
"Thank you," he said, taking the familiar objects. A sudden, belated thought struck him like a physical blow. Wait. I'm not wearing my combat suit. Are you telling me… she undressed me? Did… did she see me naked?
A flush of heat crept up his neck. He scratched the back of his head, a nervous gesture. "Sorry to ask, but… are you the one who dressed me in these clothes?"
The nurse's smile didn't waver, but a knowing glint appeared in her eye. "No, Sir. It was a male attending physician who handled that. We have strict protocols. Nurses aren't permitted to perform those duties for conscious or potentially conscious patients."
"Oh. I see," Pathro replied, the wave of awkwardness receding as quickly as it had come. "Thanks anyway." He gave a short, grateful nod and continued down the hall, leaving the nurse to return to her duties.
Once around the corner, he powered on his communicator. The screen glowed to life. "Hey, AI," he said, feeling a little silly talking to a device. "Uh… I was in the Medical Facility, and I want to return to my room, but I don't really know where to go."
The AI processed his request instantly. A crisp, three-dimensional holographic map materialized above the phone's surface, displaying a detailed layout of the vast base. A pulsating blue dot marked his current location in the medical wing, while a green path lit up, snaking through corridors, lifts, and connecting walkways toward the residential sector.
"This map displays your current location and your route to the designated destination. Please follow the indicated path, Sir Kitsimoyo."
A genuine smile touched Pathro's lips. This AI is actually way too handy. Saves me the trouble of asking people and getting lost.
He pocketed his ID and set off, the green line hovering just ahead of him like a faithful guide.
---
On another, more austere level of the Junior Division base, Hayate walked with uncharacteristic slowness toward a heavy, polished door marked VICE-CAPTAIN. His usual nonchalance was gone, replaced by a tangible nervous energy that made his steps deliberate.
He arrived, raised a hand to knock, but before his knuckles could meet the metal, a sharp, clear voice came from within.
"Just come in already."
Hayate flinched almost imperceptibly. He took a steadying breath, opened the door, and slipped inside, closing it softly behind him. He immediately snapped to attention spine straight, shoulders back, eyes fixed on a point on the far wall.
"Hayate, responding to the summons, Ma'am."
Behind a wide, minimalist desk sat Vice-Captain Hayashi. She was the same officer who had recently conversed with Vice-Captain Taneki. Her presence commanded the room; it was an energy of sharp intellect and unwavering authority.
The military's structure had evolved. Originally, there were only two divisions: Junior and Senior, termed the 1st and 2nd Divisions. As needs grew, new divisions were inserted between them. While logically the Junior Division should have been renumbered, it retained its designation as the 2nd Division, with the newer formations becoming the 3rd and 4th. Tradition, it seemed, held a certain weight.
Hayashi didn't look up from the tablet she was scanning. "You don't really have to be all formal around me. It gives me the cringes. Save that for the Captain or the other superiors. Not with me."
Hayate's rigid posture collapsed into something more natural, though the tension in his shoulders remained. "Oh… uh… okay."
She finally set the tablet down and pinned him with a gaze that felt like an X-ray. "So. Mind explaining to me how two new recruits ended up completely unconscious on their very first mission5 under your supervision? Pathro and Kobayashi, correct?"
Hayate's mind raced. "Well, I don't know the specifics, honestly. I was busy clearing the Zunan infestations in the other galaxies you assigned to me. When I returned to their coordinates, I found them floating in space, unconscious. I immediately rushed them to the Medical Facility."
"Don't give me that crap."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it thundered in the quiet office. Hayate felt his internal composure shake.
"You were assigned six galaxies. If your sole aim was efficient elimination, you'd have been done in under two minutes. The fact that you weren't tells me you were busy having the time of your life, killing them one by one. That leisure cost you precious time. You arrived too late to properly monitor them."
Busted! Hayate's thoughts screamed. She's right on the money. I did savor it… for most of them, not just the last one. What do I even say?
He dipped into a deep bow. "I am sorry, Ma'am. Please forgive my incompetence."
Hayashi stood up, the chair rolling back silently. She let out a long, controlled sigh as she walked around the desk. "I went to check on them. I reviewed their battle memories." She paused, letting the implication sink in, she had the authority and ability to do so. "Looks like they faced a Variant."
Hayate straightened, his professional concern momentarily overriding his guilt. "A Variant?"
"Did I stutter?"
"No! I was just… expressing shock. Variants are rare. And they're notoriously powerful."
"It was a low-class Variant, but still far above their pay grade," Hayashi confirmed, folding her arms. "It gave them one hell of a battle. A battle where they very easily could have died. It's only because that Zunan was unfamiliar with its own capabilities, and because those two actually managed to work together, that they survived."
"I am so sorry, Ma'am. It will never happen again."
She stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.The gesture wasn't friendly, but it was direct. "Well, they're alive at the end of the day. And a near-death struggle like that… it forges power. They've definitely grown stronger from it. So, I suppose it was a risky gamble that paid off." Her grip tightened slightly. "Just be more careful next time."
"Yes, Ma'am."
She released him and walked to the large window that formed one wall of her office. They were on the highest floor, the view a breathtaking panorama of the sprawling base and the dusky landscape beyond. The sun was beginning its descent.
"Now that we've got that unpleasantness out of the way," she said, her reflection clear in the glass, "let's talk about the other matter I mentioned to you."
---
The sun was now a molten orb kissing the horizon, painting the sky in strokes of orange and purple. Pathro sat on a smooth rock at the water's edge on the base's recreational grounds, the gentle lap of waves a soothing sound. He was working his way through a double beef burger, the taste a welcome piece of normalcy.
Kiligaku leaned against a taller rock behind him, arms crossed, also eating. He chose to stand, his energy too restless for sitting.
"So…" Kiligaku began after swallowing a large bite. "I can sense your energy. It's… denser. Sharper. You seem to have undergone quite the growth curve. Just what in the hell did you fight? Three Ichigan at once?"
Pathro took a sip from a drink can. "Nah. It was a Variant. It was crazy powerful. Even with Kobayashi's help, the chances of winning weren't in our favor."
"Kobayashi?" Kiligaku's eyebrows shot up. "For some reason, I didn't peg that dude as a team player. I certainly didn't see you two working together."
"Well, I'm sure he would have chosen to fight alone if he thought he had a chance," Pathro admitted, staring at the shimmering water. "I guess even he wasn't so prideful he could ignore the obvious gap. Still, he participated better than I expected."
"You think he'll eventually come around? Become buddy-buddy?"
Pathro shrugged. "Not sure, man. But let's hope so. He did seem kind of annoyed whenever I was calling shots during the fight."
Kiligaku nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hmm… Most likely, he was just annoyed that a peer was giving him commands he couldn't disagree with, given the situation. There's something about taking orders from someone you see as your equal that really doesn't sit well with a person's pride. It's one thing from a superior; it's another from the guy standing right next to you."
"You're probably right," Pathro conceded, finishing the last of his burger.
Kiligaku nodded. "Well, you do naturally take the lead in situations like that. It's just how you're wired. So yeah, I can definitely see why Kobayashi—someone who sees you as nothing more than a rival comrade—wouldn't like it. Not one bit."
A small, wry smile touched Pathro's lips. Then, with no warning, the memory of the dream, the endless water, the silent, dark figure with its glowing white eyes, flashed across his mind with startling clarity. So your journey has finally begun, huh.
His smile vanished. His expression shifted, brows drawing together in a frown as he stared unseeingly at the water.
Why did I just recall that right now?
Kiligaku noticed the sudden change. Curiosity flickered in his eyes, but he held his tongue, respecting the unspoken boundary.
Just then, two figures approached along the shore. "So this is where you two have been hiding!" Kasumi called out, her voice cheerful.
Kaile was beside her, but her attention wasn't on the scenery. Her senses were sharp, and they were screaming at her. She looked between Pathro and Kiligaku, her analytical mind working.
Am I not sensing right? she thought, a knot of frustration tightening in her chest. Their energy… it's significantly more powerful than the last time I felt them. Especially Pathro's. It's denser, heavier. Just how strong were the Zunans he faced?
Meta Energy the active, harnessed form of life force that fueled both Zunan and their fighters. It didn't grow through simple meditation or time. It was forged in the crucible of extreme conflict. The more intense the battle, the greater the strain and peril, the more certain the subsequent surge in power. It was analogous to muscle tearing and rebuilding under immense weight. Only by being pushed to the absolute limit did one's Meta Energy truly expand.
"Hey, you two," Kaile said, her voice cutting through the peaceful sunset air. "What exactly did you face during your mission?"
Pathro blinked, the strange reverie broken. He turned to her, a lazy grin back on his face. "Zunan, duh. What do you think we faced?"
Kaile's eye twitched. Fury, hot and immediate, flashed across her features. "You know that's not what I meant!" she snapped, lunging forward with the clear intent to grab him.
For the second time that day, Kasumi was the barrier. She smoothly wrapped an arm around Kaile's waist, holding her back. "Easy, easy!"
Pathro laughed, a sound that only stoked Kaile's irritation. "Well, I know why you're asking. But knowing what we fought won't make you any stronger. If you don't catch up soon, the gap will eventually grow too big for you to close."
He walked the few steps over to where Kasumi held a fuming Kaile. With exaggerated gentleness, he reached out and patted Kaile on the head. "There, there. No need to get so puffy about it."
BAM!
The reaction was instantaneous. Kaile's restraint shattered. Her fist, coiled with suppressed frustration, shot out in a blur. It connected squarely with Pathro's midsection with a solid, meaty thwack.
The force didn't break him, but it launched him. He sailed backward in a high arc over the sand before plummeting into the ocean with a mighty SPLASH!
No one on the beach seemed particularly concerned. It wasn't a punch with lethal intent. And the ocean posed no threat. Part of a Zunan Fighter's rigorous training was adaptation to extreme environments. Their enhanced physiology, sustained by Meta Energy, allowed them to survive indefinitely without air, whether submerged in the deepest trench or adrift in the vacuum of space.
Kiligaku and Kasumi, watching the splash settle, spoke in perfect, deadpan unison: "Yep. He deserved that."
---
Underwater, Pathro sank, the muted sounds of the surface world fading away. He wasn't fighting it; he was just… descending, surrounded by the cool, blue silence.
And then it came again. Not a memory, but a re-experience. The sensation of sinking into that other, dreamlike ocean. The image of the dark, silhouetted figure staring down at him from the impossible surface, its white eyes the last thing he saw before waking in the hospital bed.
What was that, exactly? he thought, the real water around him feeling eerily similar to the dream-water. I'm trying to tell myself it was just a dream, but the memory is too vivid. Too real.
The figure's words echoed in the quiet of his mind. It won't be long now… until you are a Zunan Fighter.
How long has it been waiting? What is it?
He shook his head, bubbles streaming from his nose. The introspection was pointless without more information. A resolve, hard and clear, solidified within him.
Well, whatever it is, I just need to get stronger. I have to be ready for whatever it throws at me.
He had finally reached the sandy bottom, dozens of meters below. With his new determination, he coiled his legs and pushed off.
He didn't swim. He shot upward like a torpedo. His speed through the water was so immense, so violently fast, that it created a temporary cavitation tunnel behind him a column of vapor in the sea. Any aquatic creature that sensed his passage would have felt a profound, instinctual violation; a land-dweller moving with such contemptuous mastery in their domain.
It took him less than a second to traverse the depth he had spent moments falling through. He breached the surface not with a leap, but in a controlled, explosive surge that carried him onto the wet sand of the beach.
He landed on his feet, seawater sheeting off him. He shook his head like a dog, spraying droplets, and fixed a mock-annoyed look on Kaile.
"Darn it, Kaile," he said, gesturing at his soaked clothes. "Look, now I'm all wet."
---
Night had fallen, a deep, cloudy blanket smothering the sky. In his private quarters, Pathro was in motion.
Dressed only in a sleeveless vest and shorts, his form was clearly defined under the room's soft light corded muscle and dense power earned through countless trials. He wasn't using his hands. With absolute control, he performed rapid one-finger push-ups, his entire body a rigid plank, rising and falling with a hydraulic precision that betrayed immense strength.
His count was a low murmur in the quiet room. "...99,998... 99,999... 100,000!" He held the final position for a breath, then fluidly rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms overhead. For someone of his caliber, trained under crushing gravity and brutal conditions, a hundred thousand one-finger push-ups in a comfortable, standard-G room was less a workout and more a mental exercise a focused meditation that wouldn't even draw a bead of sweat.
GRRRRRBOOM!
A deep, rolling peal of thunder shook the window pane. Pathro turned, looking out at the night. Thick, dark clouds churned, blotting out any hint of moon or stars. "Well," he said to his reflection. "Guess it's going to be a rainy night. Perfect weather to sleep… or maybe play some games."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound at his door was firm. Pathro picked up his ID card from a side table and swiped it over the panel. The door slid open with a soft hiss.
Standing in the hallway was Kobayashi.
Pathro blinked, genuinely surprised. This was not a visitor he had expected. "Oh… Kobayashi. What brings you here?"
Kobayashi wasted no time on pleasantries. His expression was neutral, his posture straight. "Are you free, or am I disturbing you?"
Pathro shook his head, stepping back. "Oh, ah, nah. I just finished my little workout. I'm totally free."
"May I come in?"
"Uh, sure. I guess." Pathro moved aside.
Kobayashi gave a slight nod and walked past him into the room. The door slid shut and automatically locked with a quiet click. Kobayashi's eyes took in the spartan space briefly before he moved to the small sitting area, taking a seat on one of the two simple sofa chairs.
Pathro followed, settling into the other chair. An awkward silence descended, thick and immediate. It was broken only by another low growl of thunder from outside, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the walls.
Then came the rain. First, a few heavy drops pat-pat-patting against the window, then quickly swelling into a steady, rushing pour. The storm had arrived in full force.
"So…" Pathro said, leaning forward slightly, hands clasped between his knees. He was trying, and failing, to sound casual. "You came to see me, huh."
Kobayashi, who had been gazing at the rain-streaked window, turned his head. His eyes were sharp, analytical. "I just thought we should have a proper introduction to each other. Since we only started talking during that mission."
Pathro felt a knot of tension loosen. "Oh, I see. Yeah, it is kind of… off, to just stay like that after what we went through." He offered a small, genuine smile. "So, I guess I'll begin. My name is Pathro Kitsimoyo."
As if on cue, a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the room for a split second, followed instantly by a tremendous, window-rattling CRACK-BOOM! of thunder. It wasn't threatening; it felt like a cosmic drumroll, emphatically confirming the statement hanging in the air.
In the echoing quiet that followed the thunder's fade, the only sound was the relentless drumming of the rain. Kobayashi's gaze remained steady on Pathro. The stage was now his.