Yuri & Kaodin POV – Medical Bay
The elevator chimed softly as it reached the fourth floor.
Noise from outside could be heard even before the door was fully open.
Yuri's eyes widened as he realized something. He turned sharply to his side, gaze dropping. His eyes met Kaodin's just as the boy noticed the sudden movement.
"Boy—quickly. Transfigure Wawa into a normal tiger cub. Now. I'll explain later," Yuri said.
There was no time to explain, trust the instinct. It would have been better off should the medical bay personnel simply ignored the boy and a tiger cub. A spectral form drifting around freely, drew too much red-flag attention.
Kaodin's eyebrows furrowed slightly as his head tilted. "Okay… sure," he said, nodding as he turned his gaze to Wawa perched on his shoulder.
He gently lifted Wawa, rubbing under the spectral tiger cub's chin. His intent flowed instinctively, he giggled slightly as he felt it was funny how much Wawa liked being rubbed under his chin. The cub lingered in the comfort of the rub, reluctant to break out of the soft touch—but his urge to complied with his master's intent.
The spectral form, already small, began to transfigure to a tige-body from (Jamlang-Kai).
Then something strange happened before Kaodin's eyes.
As if suddenly aware of what he could do, Wawa flickered playfully—spiral, body, spiral, body—testing the shift. To Kaodin, it looked like a bubble learning how much air to hold: too little and the shape sagged, too much and it would burst, but just enough made the surface smooth and buoyant, and Wawa grew openly joyful as he broke the habit and drifted tirelessly between forms.
Kaodin glanced up. Yuri's cold, serious stare hadn't eased.
The elevator doors were opening.
As the sound from outside the elevator indicating a lot of medical bay personnel, Yuri's reasoning to have Wawa reverted body form sunk in, he immediately closed his eyes briefly and sent a stronger intent, racing the widening gap of the doors.
Wawa froze mid-play. He felt the sudden intense command.
He halted, slowly turned, and met Kaodin's gaze—catching the seriousness there. Wawa reacted at once, lowering himself and rolling onto his belly, the playful stance abandoned in a quick, instinctive shift. His eyes glistened as if asking for forgiveness.
The elevator doors fully parted.
Nursing androids continued their routines, performing assigned tasks as they scanned the facial features of Kaodin and Yuri upon arrival. After brief verification, they moved on without pause, weaving through layers of human personnel, cleaning units, and other nursing androids—unlike the night-programmed or dawn-shift patterns. Cleaning units paused to recalculate paths, their movements no longer smooth, but adaptive.
The medical bay had come alive.
Not the quiet, serene corridor of night or dawn, but its complete opposite—constant motion, overlapping presence, and restless activity.
Yuri stepped out first. Kaodin followed close behind, still holding Wawa in his palm. He couldn't help glancing down at him—Wawa lying there quietly now—and giggled softly, finding the cub's earlier playfulness and sudden shift in posture unexpectedly funny.
Shoes striking polished floor panels, data slates chiming as they were passed between hands. The silence that had clung to the place since the previous night—sending off Nyla and Kaodin—or the serene morning, accompanied the King and the Commander, only a handful of android nurses and cleaning bots moving through their routines, now the entire scene felt entirely surreal, replaced by motion and chatter that seemed almost celebratory by comparison.
Physicists as well as lab scientists moved in perfect coordination to their task separated by each department section, lab coats indicating each designated specialty, some in clusters arguing through new hypotheses as they walked, some pivoting through the corridor alone.
"…once the environment stops behaving linearly—""…that's absurd, you can't sign off on stability like that—""…an overnight plateau doesn't mean it hasn't shifted—"
"…wanna bet, the hypothesis Dr.Mintra would approved research budget?..."
Yuri caught fragments as he passed—talk of compressed conditions, flattened gradients, spaces made deliberately hostile. Measures meant to slow instability. He glanced back repeatedly to make sure Kaodin was close, noticing the boy holding the tiger—now kitten-sized—in his palms.
Yuri reached out at once and gripped the boy's shoulder, steering him forward.
"Look, Kaodin," he said quietly, already moving. "I don't want you getting sick. Let's get through this busy area quickly so you can wash up, alright?."
"Yes, sure.", Kaodin responsed, and almost as an afterthought, "By the way—what you told me during supper last night, I still haven't found it this morning though."
The boy's body is cold. Too cold. This isn't good. And why are these girls every time I go in the public, kept flocking in just to greet me with such a strange-brightened eyes, if they could scatter out, they can all walk faster and work faster?
Annoying.
But, Whatever…
Keeping his grip light, Yuri guided Kaodin ahead of him instead of letting the boy trail behind.
"You will," he said evenly. "Trust me."
Yuri hardly ever smiled, but just then, a small grin slipped out without him noticing—the boy reminding him of their dinner the night before with the whole team, a moment that had been quietly, unexpectedly good.
Kaodin, despite feeling slightly dizzy, ignored it. A jog like this was common practice; it shouldn't pose any issue. They would reach the room soon enough for him to wash up anyway. Still, unease lingered the moment they stepped onto the fourth floor, his senses clouded by numerous indistinct intentions. He couldn't tell where they came from or what caused his instincts to stay alert.
Yuri, leading the way through the flow of lab-coat specialists heading toward their designated sections before the morning work cycle began, gradually found himself surrounded on all sides—small clusters of middle-aged female specialists closing in from different directions.
"You saw that? Yuri's here. He's even more handsome than the last time I saw him on the front page of the SAI E-News Daily Letter."
"Don't you dare. He's mine. Besides, you don't know him as well as I do."
"What? What could you possibly know that I don't? We read the same reports as everyone else—how he's romantic, always helping civilians in secret."
"But who's the boy next to him? Don't tell me he's his—"
"No. Don't even say that word. The only one who could ever carry his child would be me."
Every one of them wore similar expressions—brightened eyes, faint blushes—and whenever one managed to catch Yuri's unwitting gaze, she sent him a subtle, incomprehensible smile.
He walked steadily, eyes forward, letting the noise wash past him. Observant. Collected. Engaging with no one beyond what the task required.
Why are all the girls staring at Brother Yuri? Kaodin wondered, glancing up and to the side, trying to inspect Yuri's face. Nothing seemed out of place. Still, unease prickled at the base of his neck. The looks weren't hostile—but there was something in their eyes, as if they carried intentions he couldn't understand.
He could no longer tell whether it was the familiar warning of an oncoming sickness or something else entirely—some nearby danger he hadn't yet recognized.
Then the answer came before he could react.
A sharp tickle surged through Kaodin's nose.
He didn't have time to brace himself.
Yuri, who had been guiding Kaodin by the shoulder from behind, noticed the boy's abrupt tension and moved closer.
"Kid, you alright?"
Kaodin sneezed hard, head dipping toward the floor. Instinctively trying to suppress it, he loosened his grip—and Wawa slipped free from his palm.
Yuri, already wary of the boy's unusual chill, suspected he might be getting sick—from the drenched clothes clinging to his skin and the extremely low, tightly regulated temperature maintained by the sealed, closed-circuit air system. The system was segmented by floor and section to ensure a safe working environment, preserve the accuracy of test results, protect delicate and extremely rare pre-war equipment, and maintain the integrity of sensitive biological samples, evaporative substances, and nanoparticles.
Before Kaodin could even reach for a tissue—before he could properly recover from the first sneeze—a second followed. The dizziness worsened, and Wawa slipped fully free as Kaodin staggered.
The cub woke midair.
Yuri's hand snapped out on reflex, catching Wawa cleanly before he hit the floor.
The reaction was instantaneous.
What should have been an unremarkable act turned Yuri, somehow, into a post-war idol. Multiple ocular implants flickered to life as several science specialists recorded the moment, excitement rippling outward.
It was as if the corridor had transformed into a limited-time spectacle.
"Wait—why—no—let me— I'm on duty—"
Yuri's protest dissolved as he was pulled into a flurry of embraces and kisses from all sides.
Wawa phased through the crowd unnoticed, weaving effortlessly between legs, his form fluid and precise. He reappeared beside Kaodin, settling back into his normal tiger-cub body without a sound.
Kaodin couldn't help. His vision swam, eyes unfocused.
A familiar sensation returned—one that felt distant now—the alternating extremes of freezing chill and boiling heat twisting through his body at the same time. The unease deepened, normal bodily control slipping faster than he'd expected, the feeling clinging beneath his skin instead of fading.
Then he remembered his old man's frequent scolding about sleeping on cold marble floors, and a simple conclusion surfaced.
When the body feels cold, sickness is coming. And when sickness comes, there's always warm, extremely bitter Thai medicinal herbal water. If heat goes back into the body… maybe it will pass.
I should try circulating my Qi. But not fast.
As he inhaled deeply, chin tilting up, he noticed them—heat-detection units embedded along the ceiling. Small, recessed boxes lining the overhead grid, monitoring for temperature fluctuations that could damage sensitive research data.
Then I have to start from the least amount. Slowly. No aura.
He drew another breath—not releasing it all at once, but imagining a valve opening gradually, steady and controlled.
Qi moved like a quiet current beneath his skin. Nothing for the sensors to register.
The chill eased—just barely.
But he knew it was working, so he kept going. His nose grew less and less clogged, his breathing cleaner with each passing second as he fed warmth inward, carefully gauging the flow of his Qi so it wouldn't become excessive like it did in combat. When his focus fully settled, even the loud commotion beside him faded until it felt as though it no longer existed at all.
"You ladies, why don't you get back to work?" an unfamiliar voice cut in calmly. "Look at him—the boy's getting scared, standing here frozen. Where is his guardian?"