The first thing One noticed was the quiet. Not the gentle kind. Not the kind that lets you rest. The wrong kind.
Too clean. Too still. No distant clatterblast, no hisscrank pipes coughing their lungs out, no boots, no shouting…just a low, steady hum somewhere in the walls, like the building was breathing politely.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling above him was smooth, pale, and insultingly intact. He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it.
Every part of him protested at once, shoulders, ribs, legs, like a choir of complaints he didn't remember signing up for.
"…no way," he winced, lowering himself slightly. "…I can't be that old already." He turned his head….and stopped.
Eidola was sitting beside the bed, close. Too close, actually. She didn't move when he looked at her. She didn't smile nor speak. Just watched him, eyes wide, unblinking, like she'd been doing that for a while.
"…you've been staring at me this whole time, haven't you," One said.
No answer.
He squinted at her. "…that's… a bit unsettling, I'll be honest."
She tilted her head slightly…still watching.
He let out a small breath that almost turned into a laugh. "…alright," he said softly. "you're still here. that's… good."
He pushed himself up again, slower this time, managing to sit with only half the usual amount of suffering.
The room around him came into focus. Cogbound Legion architecture. Clean lines, brass fixtures polished to a level that suggested someone had far too much time, vents along the walls releasing soft, controlled hissle-hassle breaths instead of the violent chuffspatter he was used to.
A chair. A table. A tray of untouched food.
"…they even gave me food," he muttered. "that's… either very kind or very worrying."
The door clicked and he looked up. It opened with a neat, mechanical whirr-click, and Four stepped in. Same face, same posture, same quiet way of existing in a room without disturbing it. For some reason, it still freaked One out a little seeing himself like that even after everything that happened.
"…you look terrible," Four said.
One stared at him. "…I got blown up."
"Partially."
"…thank you," One said flatly. "that makes it better."
Four stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Eidola's gaze shifted, briefly, to him, then back to One.
Always back to One.
"She could barely leave your side ever since you were out," Four smiled, brushing the top of her head as he walked next to her.
For a moment, no one spoke. Just the low hum of the room.
"…what happened?" One asked.
Four didn't answer immediately. He moved closer, glancing once at Eidola, then back to One.
"The facility is gone," he said. "Structural collapse followed by full ignition. There is nothing recoverable at the primary site."
One nodded.
"The majority of the data was purged before destruction."
"Majority," One repeated.
"Yes."
"…so not all of it."
"No."
A pause.
"…but enough," Four added.
One nodded slowly.
"…and them?"
"The Null Concordat has been… significantly reduced," Four said. "The Replication Order, even more so. They will not recover quickly."
One exhaled, rubbing his face lightly. "…nothing ever really ends, does it."
"No."
"…great."
He glanced at Eidola again. Still there, watching quietly.
"…and her," he said.
Four followed his gaze, then nodded.
"She is not classified as a weapon."
One blinked. "…really?"
"The designation has been removed."
"…you're serious."
"Of course, I am."
One stared at him for a second longer than necessary. "…Four, what in the blazes did you do…?"
Four chuckled, "I convinced the general…and explained it."
"…that's worse," One muttered. "you don't 'explain' things to people like him."
Four didn't respond. Which, annoyingly, confirmed it.
"The General accepted the conclusion," Four continued. "There was disagreement."
"From the people who like putting children in glass tubes, I assume."
"Yes."
"…figures."
"But the decision stands," Four said. "She is not to be contained or studied as an asset."
One looked at Eidola again. She hadn't reacted. Didn't understand the words. But something in her posture had subtly…shifted. Less tense.
"…and me," One said after a moment. "…what happens to me."
Four looked back at him. "You are released from active duty," he clarified. "No reassignment. No obligation."
"huh…" One blinked again. "…just like that…I walked into a war by accident," he said. "and now I'm just… walking out."
"That is an accurate summary."
"…that doesn't feel real."
"Well actually," Four said, "there was compensation."
One squinted. "…what."
"For damages incurred."
"…what damages."
Four looked at him. Completely serious. "Agricultural produce."
The silence was deafening.
One stared. "…tell me you did not."
"I did."
"…you asked a military command structure," One said slowly, "for reimbursement… for SWEET POTATOES?"
"Yes."
"…and they agreed???"
"Absolutely."
One leaned back slightly, processing the thought across the ceiling. "Just tell me that I'm already dead…"
The door clicked again. This time, it didn't open fully. Just enough for someone to stand in the frame.
The General.
He didn't step inside but his presence filled the doorway anyway. Uniform pristine. Expression tight. Eyes moving from One to Eidola and back.
He looked… composed.Too composed. Which, in this case, meant furious.
Behind him trailed a narrow, twitchy man in a lab coat, clutching a stack of papers that had clearly lost a fight with urgency somewhere along the way.
The General's gaze landed on One first. Then shifted to Eidola. Then back.
"You are awake," he said.
"…working on it," One replied.
The General gave a short, stiff nod. "You are no longer under Legion command."
"…I heard," One said. "I'm still deciding if that's real."
"…It is."
A beat.
His jaw tightened.
"And," the General added, clearing his throat, "you negotiated agricultural reimbursement," the General said.
"I requested it," Four replied. "It is a classified necessity."
The scientist behind him let out a sharp, incredulous noise. "Necessity? That was a war operation! We lost an entire facility and you're…"
"Enough," the General cut in, without raising his voice.
The scientist snapped his mouth shut, though his expression continued arguing on his behalf.
Four tilted his head slightly. "For accuracy," he added, "the compensation has not yet been itemised."
The General closed his eyes. Just for a second. "…what," he said slowly, reopening them, "does that mean."
Four looked thoughtful. Which was the worst possible thing he could look right now.
"It means," he said, "I did not specify the exact quantity."
The scientist made a strangled sound. "You didn't…?!"
The General exhaled through his nose. The kind of breath taken by someone reconsidering every decision that led them here.
"…what," he asked, very carefully, "does he owe you."
Four turned to One. "…how many did you lose."
One blinked. "…I…what."
"The potatoes," Four clarified.
"…I know what you meant," One said. "I just didn't expect to be asked that in this context."
A pause.
"…a sack," he said. "maybe two."
Four nodded once. Then turned back to the General.
"Two sacks."
The scientist threw his hands up. "This is absurd! We are not allocating military resources to tuber restitution while a convergence-class subject is being…"
"She is not a subject," the General said flat.
Silence snapped into place and the scientist faltered.
"…sir, with respect, she is…by all classifications…"
"She is not to be classified," the General repeated. His gaze didn't leave the scientist this time.
"And she is not to be contained, studied, or reassigned."
The scientist swallowed. "…yes sir." He glanced at Eidola. Then at One. Then back at the General. "…this compromises everything we've worked for."
The General's voice dropped slightly. "If what we worked for requires treating her the same way they did," he said, "then it deserves to be compromised."
The scientist looked like he had more to say. He didn't say it.
The General turned back to One. "You will receive your… compensation," he said.
The word sounded like it physically pained him.
One nodded. "…appreciate it."
The General's jaw tightened again. "…you should leave," he said.
Four stepped slightly aside. Like this entire exchange had gone exactly as expected. Which, annoyingly, it had.
As the General turned to go, he paused. Just enough to glance back…at Four.
"…two sacks," he said.
Four nodded. "Two sacks of sweet potatoes."
The General left. The scientist followed, still visibly offended by the existence of potatoes. And the door shut.
Silence again, before One looked at Four. "…How in the world did you do that."
Four burst out laughing, along with One.
The air outside the resting wing felt different. Less filtered. Less polite.
Real wind moved through the open platform, carrying a faint hissle-hassle from distant engines and the low, heavy thrum of the Aegis idling nearby. The gunship loomed at the edge of the platform like some brass-plated sky-beast, its exposed gears turning in slow, deliberate rhythm, steam venting in steady chuffspatter sighs.
One stepped out, coat slung over his shoulder.
Eidola followed. Now wrapped in a long brown coat that swallowed her small frame, sleeves slightly too long, hem brushing just above the ground. It looked like something that belonged to him, something worn, simple, practical. On her, it looked… chosen.
They walked toward the Aegis. One slowed just before the boarding ramp, then stopped, then turned.
Four stood a few steps behind, hands loosely at his sides, watching, same as always.
"…you're really not coming," One said. It wasn't a question. But it still sounded like one.
Four shook his head once. "No."
"…not even for a bit."
"No."
One shifted his weight slightly, glancing toward the ship, then back. "…you'd hate it there anyway," he muttered. "too much dirt. not enough… whatever it is you stare at all day."
"Screens," Four said.
"…right."
A small pause.
"I am going to remain here," Four added. "For an extended period. I have grown fond of the computer screens."
One stared at him. "…you're joking."
"I am not."
"…that's deeply concerning."
Four laughed it off, then gestured lightly toward the bracelet in One's hand. "I will respond if you require assistance."
"…yeah," One said. "you always do."
One stepped forward. Hesitated for half a second. Then pulled him into a brief, awkward hug.
Four didn't react immediately. Then, slowly, returned it, then pulled apart.
"…don't get too attached to the screens," One said. "I've heard cases of addiction."
"I am aware."
"…good." One turned walked up the ramp. Eidola followed without needing to be told.
The doors shut behind them with a firm clunk-hiss.
The Aegis roared to life.
Steam burst from its vents in a violent chuffspatter blast, rotors spinning faster, louder, until the air itself seemed to tear apart around it then lifted.
Four stood there, unmoving, watching as the ship rose into the grey sky and disappeared into the haze.
click… tap… tap-tap…
He turned and walked back inside.
…
The first step off the Aegis felt wrong. Not because it was unfamiliar. Because it was.
"…huh," One muttered.
The cobbled ground of Brindlemark greeted him with the same uneven welcome it always had. Steam curled lazily from the street vents. Vendors shouted over one another in a constant whirry-wharrel of noise. Gears turned. Wheels squeaked. Somewhere, something exploded mildly and was immediately ignored.
Everything was exactly the same.
"…I thought something would've changed," One said. Nothing had.
A vendor next to his old stall was still there. Same man, same rag still wiping the same counter like it personally offended him. He didn't even look up.
One stood there for a second before he could speak "…yeah," he said quietly. "…that's fair."
Eidola stood beside him, watching and taking it in. The noise. The motion. The cluttered, clanking life of it.
No one noticed her. No one cared. And for once, that felt right.
The farm sat just beyond the town's reach.
Far enough that the constant clatter faded into something distant and forgettable. The air moved differently here, cleaner, softer, carrying only the sound of wind brushing through open space instead of grinding through pipes. No smoke, no machines screaming overhead. just soil and sky.
One stood in the field, shovel in hand. Looking at the ground. "…alright," he muttered. "I remember this part."
He drove the shovel into the soil. Stuck, tilted, then slipped sideways entirely.
"…no, I don't," he corrected.
Eidola watched from a few steps away. She had been walking the perimeter earlier, tracing the edge of the field with slow, deliberate steps. Touching things. Stopping for no reason. Starting again. Choosing. Now she watched him.
He tried again. This time the shovel went in, then hit something hard.
"…what is that," he muttered, digging around it with increasing confusion.
From a nearby bush…a rustle.
Two figures crouched low behind the shrubbery, poorly hidden.
The scientist clutched a pair of binoculars, eyes wide with frantic intensity.
"…observe," he whispered. "subject is interacting with soil. possibly testing terrain manipulation."
Beside him, the General stared through his own lenses, expression flat, unimpressed.
"She is digging," the General said.
"…yes, but how she digs!"
"She is using her hands."
"…that could be a precursor to…"
The General lowered the binoculars…slowly. "…we are hiding in a bush," he said.
The scientist froze. "…strategically."
"We are observing a girl," the General continued, "attempting to farm."
"…a convergence-class entity attempting to farm."
The General looked back through the binoculars. Eidola had crouched down now beside One.
…
"…she's doing it wrong," One was saying. "no, like… here…"
He demonstrated…poorly.
Eidola mimicked him…also poorly.
…
The scientist leaned forward, whispering urgently,
"Look at the replication of motion! Adaptive learning…this is exactly how a distributed cognition model would…"
The General's patience snapped. "This," he said, lowering the binoculars completely, "is a waste of my time."
He tried to get up, but the bush shifted. His foot caught on a root. The scientist grabbed his sleeve, but it was too late.
They both tipped sideways and disappeared into the shrubbery with a loud, undignified clatter-scramble-thud.
…
In the field, Eidola paused. She looked up and turned her head slightly toward the sound. Then looked back.
One was still struggling with the soil.
"…I swear it wasn't this difficult before," he muttered.
Eidola watched him for a moment longer.
Then she knelt beside him. Pressed her hands into the dirt, trying to dig awkwardly and unevenly.
She paused. Adjusted. Tried again.
One glanced at her. A small, tired smile tugging at his face. "…yeah," he said softly. "…that's about right."
She looked at him, notice his smile, then reply it back, with a small awkward curve at the end of her lips.
And the wind kept moving through the field, quiet, clean, and unbothered.
The End.