"The difference between monsters and miracles is who's telling the story."
It was raining in Tokyo again.
Not a storm. Not the furious downpour that came with Gastrea incursions. Just the soft, miserable drizzle that turned ash into mud and made the steel bones of the city sigh.
Rentarō sat alone on the edge of a half-destroyed rooftop, boots soaked, coat heavy with rain. Below him, the skyline of District 7 flickered under intermittent power, like a dying heartbeat.
The data drive Karasuma had recovered from the convoy sat in Rentarō's lap—still sealed, still encrypted.
Still silent.
The truth waited inside it.
But some truths weren't meant to be opened.
Behind him, the rooftop door creaked.
He didn't need to turn to know it was Seitenshi.
Her white coat was clean, untouched by the blood or rust or failure that clung to the rest of the world. But her eyes told a different story—shadowed, careful, weary.
"Your shoulder is still injured," she said.
Rentarō didn't answer.
"I read the interim report," she continued, stepping beside him. "That girl you found—Project Chrysalis prototype—she never even made it into their official records. A test that survived its own cancellation."
"She remembered fireflies," he said.
Seitenshi blinked.
"And she died with no name."
They stood in silence for a long moment. Just the rain. Just the city.
Then she said, "The Council has activated a higher-level security alert. Whatever's on that drive—it's not just science. It's political. And dangerous."
"Are you telling me to destroy it?"
"I'm telling you to decide who you want to be when you open it."
He looked at her. "You sound like Kisara."
"No," Seitenshi said softly. "Kisara would've opened it already."
Rentarō almost smiled.
But only almost.
Two hours later, in the basement war room of the resistance compound, the team assembled.
Karasuma stood at the table, arms crossed, eyes tired. Enju leaned against the wall, unusually quiet. Hotaru sat on the edge of the table, one blade unsheathed, running a cloth over its dull surface.
"The drive's encrypted beyond our local capacity," Karasuma said. "But we intercepted a Council communique."
He tapped the projector.
A schematic lit the wall.
A high-rise tower—District 4's Arcological Archive Hub. Sealed. Heavily guarded. But not impenetrable.
"If we get inside and use their Tier-1 decrypt terminal," Karasuma continued, "we can unlock the full contents."
Rentarō nodded. "And trigger every alarm in Tokyo."
"Exactly."
Seitenshi folded her arms. "Then it's time we made noise."
Enju raised her hand, voice sharp. "What if it's a trap? What if they want us to open it there?"
Rentarō shook his head. "If it was bait, they'd have made it easier."
Karasuma added, "They think we're too scared to try. Let's prove them wrong."
That night, they moved.
Four teams. One objective.
Infiltrate the Archive.
Decrypt the drive.
Get out before the Council could bury them.
Simple.
Like the plans that always went wrong.
District 4 loomed like a cathedral of steel. The Arcological Hub was a monolith in the center—a skyscraper riddled with antennae, satellite arrays, and obsolete tech spires, like the broken crown of a dead king.
Enju was first through the breach—a ventilation shaft widened with detcord. Hotaru followed, her body practically weightless as she dropped into the shaft.
Karasuma and Rentarō followed seconds later, slipping through the silent corridors of the maintenance level. The air tasted like dust and old servers.
The resistance team spread out.
"Clock's ticking," Karasuma muttered into the comms. "We're ghosts until they see us."
"Let's keep it that way," Rentarō replied.
They reached the central archive terminal in eight minutes.
The room was old. Massive. A dome of glass and cables, with a single chair before a console older than most of Tokyo's current buildings. It pulsed softly—an ancient heart, still beating.
Rentarō slid the drive into the port.
The system groaned.
[ADMIN ACCESS KEY RECOGNIZED]
[UNSEALING DEEP MEMORY BLOCK: CHR-S0]
Data flowed.
Lines of code. Images. Names.
And then—
A screen.
A face.
Not Chrysalis.
Not the child they had recovered.
Another one.
A teenage boy.
Eyes closed. Monitors reading neural activity. Liquid cables entering his spine.
Karasuma stepped forward. "That's… not synthetic."
"No," Rentarō whispered.
It was a human.
An actual child.
Name: Subject 117
Status: Active
Location: REDACTED
Designation: Chrysalis Prime
Enju's voice cut in on comms. "I've got movement. Two patrols, Council-grade drones. They're heading toward your level."
Hotaru added, "I smell them too. They're sweeping for intruders."
Karasuma looked at Rentarō. "We pull the drive or fight it out?"
Rentarō didn't move.
His eyes were locked on the screen.
The boy looked familiar.
Not because of his face.
But because something inside Rentarō remembered him.
A laugh.
A voice.
A promise made under broken streetlights, long ago.
"Who is he?" Karasuma asked.
But Rentarō didn't answer.
Because deep down, a terrible truth had taken root.
He knew that boy.
And the boy knew him.
The screen blinked.
"Project Chrysalis Primary Host… stable."
"Cognitive synchronization: 94%."
"Termination command: on standby."
Rentarō backed away from the screen.
Karasuma grabbed the drive. "We need to move."
Sirens wailed.
The Council had found them.