Harmonia Power Rangers Assemble

Miyuu stood in the open, clutching K.A.T.O. against her chest. She debated throwing him to the side to save him—because she was capable of the occasional altruistic thought—but she wasn’t sure how Grand Écrasant would respond to sudden movements. Probably poorly. She wasn’t about to test the theory.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, because if she was going to get turned into Swiss cheese, she’d rather not see it coming.

She wasn’t the kind of person who got too sentimental about life’s injustices, but if this was how it ended—blown apart by a homicidal butler-bot while the audience cheered like this was peak entertainment—she had a few choice complaints

For one, really? This was it? After everything she’d dealt with, her story was going to wrap up here, in a pit full of glitching tech and sand in places sand absolutely didn’t belong? Where was the poetic ending? The redemption arc? Heck, she’d even settle for a dramatic betrayal twist. But no. Just a giant, overdressed robot with twin-mounted machine guns, a personal vendetta, and an impeccable moustache.

“Tsukishima Miyuu: gone too soon because she couldn’t outrun a malfunctioning, over-engineered teapot.” The imagined eulogy did nothing to soothe her mounting irritation. Her pulse quickened at the sheer indignity of it. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Of course, acknowledging this might have been her fault wasn’t an option. Sure, sneaking off to the Circuit Pit had been a questionable choice at best—okay, fine, it was a dumpster fire of a decision—but owning up to that? Not happening.

She doubled down instead, her brain working overtime to deflect with helpful thoughts like, This isn’t my fault. The Circuit Pit should’ve screened for homicidal tendencies in robots. Maybe slap a “warning: malfunctioning butlers may cause permanent injury or death” label on the registration form.

And honestly, if she thought about it hard enough—because what else was she going to do while waiting to die?—she realized this was clearly the Student Council’s fault.

If they hadn’t been so sanctimoniously obsessed with turning her into a "functional member of society", she wouldn’t have been forced to resort to this. Seriously, who has the patience to grind away for weeks just to earn a measly trickle of XP? Certainly not her. They might as well have shoved her toward the Circuit Pit themselves.

And speaking of the Student Council—they were going to absolutely lose it when they found out about this. They’d probably host some sombre memorial where they’d talk about the tragic consequences of poor decision-making or something equally condescending. Knowing them, they’d probably throw in a séance just to scold her ghost for good measure.

She peeked one eye open, just barely, and immediately regretted it. Grand Écrasant was still there, all glowing red murder-lights and spinning barrels of doom. The crowd’s distant cheers rattled through the arena. The butler-bot was taking its sweet time loading up its finishing move, and Miyuu didn’t particularly appreciate the opportunity to watch her life flash before her eyes.

Just get it over with already, she wanted to yell, though she wasn’t entirely sure if that was bravery or sheer impatience talking.

She sighed in discontent and shut her eye again.

“This is the dumbest way to die.”

And then, like a glitch in a simulation, something loud and jarring sliced through her spiralling existential despair.

THUNK.

Her eyes snapped open.

A projectile—no, a metal trash bin?—hurtled through the air and collided with the left side of Grand Écrasant’s torso. The impact sent the bot jerking sideways, its machine guns swivelling just enough to spray the pit’s metal framework instead of turning Miyuu into an abstract art installation.

It wasn’t graceful, but it was enough.

Miyuu didn’t hesitate. She rolled beneath the bot’s legs, out of range before he could adjust his aim.

The bullets missed her by less than an inch.

Sparks and shards of metal rained down, and Miyuu, for a brief, glorious moment, realized she was still alive.

“What—” she began, twisting toward the direction of the intervention, hoping for an explanation and maybe a follow-up miracle.

Peeking from a holding cell that Miyuu hadn’t even realized had opened was Natsuki, holding up the lid of a trash can with a shy grin. Beside her, Bolts was adjusting something massive in his hands—a launcher? It looked suspiciously improvised, which was both impressive and deeply concerning. He barked something incomprehensible into the arena’s comm system—probably some mix of strategy and swearing—before loading what appeared to be a grenade. Or something grenade adjacent.

Grand Écrasant twisted back toward her. Miyuu’s stomach plummeted—she wasn’t exactly in a hurry to share the murderous spotlight. Without thinking, she threw K.A.T.O towards the holding cell, before sprinting in a new direction, trying to pull the bot’s attention away from Natsuki and Bolts.

The targeting lasers followed her movement. Before the bot could fire, Bolts pulled the trigger. The grenade—or whatever it was—launched with a whoosh, slamming into Grand Écrasant’s chest. The detonation was immediate, coating the bot in a thick, viscous layer of goo. It oozed down its tuxedo in slow globs.

The machine guns spun furiously, their mechanisms audibly gumming up. Grand Écrasant’s jerked as it tried and failed to steady itself. It skidded back a few feet. The grinding shriek of metal on metal made Miyuu wince.

“Wow! It really worked.” Bolts crowed, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had just gambled with her life. “Damn, Natsuki, you know your stuff.”

“It was nothing, really.” Natsuki blushed. “I just figured with all that polyurethane resin you had lying around; we could mix in the leftover ammonium-based compound from my frog bots and voilà.”

She stared at them, slack-jawed and utterly confused. “What the hell are you two doing?!”

“What does it look like?” Natsuki shot back, far too smug for someone cowering behind a trash bin lid. “Saving your ungrateful butt.”

“Would you prefer we let you die, SEED?” Bolts added, calmly loading up another round like they weren’t mid-gladiator deathmatch.

Miyuu opened her mouth, shut it, and opened it again, but words refused to cooperate. It was too much. If she wasn’t aching all over, she would’ve thought she was dreaming.

Miyuu didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that she had, in fact, just been saved by Natsuki and Bolts. Depending on other people was a mortifying concept, one she’d rather pretend didn’t exist. In her head, this never happened, thank you very much, and any evidence to the contrary would be buried under a mountain of denial.

Grand Écrasant wrenched itself free from the goo, the sticky adhesive stretching and snapping with a sound that was both satisfying and horrifying. Its targeting lasers reactivated, but at least those terrifying machine guns were out of action. Small wins, right?

Apparently, 3D printing missiles took longer than bullets. Good to know. Not that this information was particularly comforting as the bot flexed its massive hands, crouched like a spring-loaded trap, and launched itself into the air.

It slammed its fist into the floor where she’d been standing half a second ago. The impact sent a shockwave through the arena, leaving a massive dent in the metal floor. Miyuu stumbled, barely regaining her balance in time to dodge the follow-up swipe from one of those oversized murder mitts.

Meanwhile, Bolts, in his infinite wisdom, had decided this was the perfect moment to deal with Kaoru’s unconscious body. Miyuu had completely forgotten about him, which, in retrospect, was fair given the homicidal robot situation.

He sprinted towards the opposite side of the pit, before hoisting Kaoru over his shoulder like a sack of overpriced designer potatoes and started hauling him toward the holding cell.

“Seriously?!” Miyuu yelled as she narrowly dodged a swipe from one of Grand Écrasant’s massive hands. Her heart was pounding, her legs were on autopilot, and her patience was hanging by a thread.

“If he doesn’t survive, who’s going to pay for all this damage?” Bolts replied, as if the answer were obvious.

Miyuu could barely process the absurdity of the situation. She wanted to yell something witty and cutting, but all that came out was a strangled, “Unbelievable!”

Miyuu sprinted, every nerve in her body screaming in protest. Behind her, Natsuki was putting up a valiant effort, lobbing goo grenades at the bot’s legs. The grenades stuck with wet, sickly plops, slowing Grand Écrasant’s movements slightly but not enough to make a real difference.

This was officially the worst.

A lump formed in her throat as she fought back a wave of sheer panic. Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to spill over. Not from the fear—well, not just from the fear—but from the sheer, soul-crushing embarrassment of it all.

Dying like this? In a grimy pit, covered in sand and sweat, being chased by an over-engineered teapot with anger issues? It was humiliating on a level she couldn’t even articulate. She swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, silently cursing everything from the bot to the Circuit Pit to her own deeply questionable life choices while she ran.

K.A.T.O.’s eyes finally stopped glowing, and his voice crackled over Miyuu’s comms. “Good news: I’m back. Bad news: this bot is infected with a ridiculously complex virus. Like, weeks-of-work complex.”

“Great…” Miyuu panted, narrowly dodging another swipe from Grand Écrasant’s hand. “File that under completely useless information.”

Undeterred, K.A.T.O. continued. “The virus overwrote Grand Écrasant’s central processing unit. Right now, it has one goal: kill you. Whoever created this virus isn’t just messing around—they’re trying to assassinate you.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She snapped, rolling just in time to avoid another ground-shaking fist slam. “Like, oh, I don’t know, how not to die!”

K.A.T.O. jogged back into the pit, clearly unbothered by the fact that his partner was seconds away from becoming a smear on the floor. His small form zipped around the arena’s edge, easily manoeuvring behind Grand Écrasant. The bot was so focused on Miyuu, it didn’t even register him as a threat.

“Your only option,” K.A.T.O. said, his plasma tail charging up, “is to destroy it completely. And for that, you’re going to need some serious firepower.”

“Where am I supposed to get fire power?” Miyuu shouted, throwing her hands up while running. “Do I look like I have an arsenal on me?”

K.A.T.O. didn’t bother responding—he was already in action. Sprinting from Grand Écrasant’s blind spot, he lashed out with his plasma-charged tail, swiping at the bot’s legs. Sparks flew as the electrical arc hit home, momentarily disabling Grand Écrasant’s systems.

The bot jerked, red eyes flashing on and off. Miyuu didn’t waste the opportunity. She bolted, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the oversized murder machine.

But the reprieve was short-lived. Grand Écrasant, predictably, shuddered back to life. It twisted toward her with a guttural groan that could only mean one thing: it was angry now.

“Great job, K.A.T.O.” Miyuu yelled, breathless and panicked. “Now it’s pissed off!”

“I gave you an opening,” K.A.T.O. shot back. “Maybe use it before you get pulverized.”

Miyuu growled under her breath, sparing a second to shoot a glare in his direction before focusing back on not dying.

Natsuki’s voice rang out from somewhere behind her. “Heads up!”

She barely had time to process the warning before another goo grenade splattered against Grand Écrasant’s shoulder. The sticky substance spread across its arm and torso, gumming up its movements.

“Nice shot!” Bolts called, still hauling Kaoru. He reached the holding cell, unceremoniously dumping Kaoru inside before slamming the gate shut. “One problem handled. Now what’s the plan for this tin can?”

“I’m open to suggestions!” Miyuu yelled, dodging as Grand Écrasant’s other arm swung wildly in her direction.

Natsuki, crouched behind a crumpled piece of arena debris, adjusted her grenade launcher. “Working on it! If you could maybe not die for five more seconds, that’d be great!”

“Oh, sure, take your time.” Miyuu shot back.

Grand Écrasant’s desperation seemed to escalate. Missiles fired in every direction, slamming into the walls, the floor, the ceiling—anything that wasn’t Miyuu, though the intention was clear. It was trying to box her in, tear apart the arena piece by piece until there was nowhere left to run.

She narrowly avoided one missile as it obliterated a chunk of the roof, sending debris raining down. A massive slab of ceiling crashed to the floor right in front of her.

The crowd’s screaming shifted from gleeful bloodlust to full-blown panic. This wasn’t the fun kind of shrieking anymore. This was “Oh no, I’m going to die in an arena where the snack bar charges triple” levels of terror.

Apparently, it had finally dawned on them that the adaptive grid, the thing meant to protect them from things like rogue robots and sudden explosions, wasn’t doing much adaptive anything anymore, and their lives were very much at risk.

Funny how no one seemed to mind the possibility of her getting obliterated, but as soon as they were in danger, it was all screaming and crying.

Bolts’ coworkers—the brave, underpaid Circuit Pit employees—tried to keep order and evacuate people safely, but their efforts weren’t all that effective. The VIP section, however, was already cleared out. Naturally, the safety of the highest XP bidders had taken top priority.

Overhead, the announcer bots chimed in, sounding awfully disappointed. “And now, folks, due to unforeseen circumstances, the Circuit Pit advises all attendees to vacate the premises immediately.”

“And for those who care,” the green bot added, “the Student Council has arrived.”

The crowd’s panic somehow dialled up even further. People trampled over each other in a desperate bid for the exits, turning the arena into a live demonstration of why humanity couldn’t be trusted to form orderly lines during a crisis.

Miyuu froze mid-dodge, her brain doing a quick calculation of bad options. On one hand, getting blown apart by Grand Écrasant was—objectively—a terrible way to go. On the other hand, facing the Student Council? Also terrible. Possibly worse. Actually, probably worse.

Miyuu froze mid dodge. “They’re going to kill me.”

“If we don’t figure something out fast, that bot’s going to do the job for them.” Bolts so kindly pointed out.

As if on cue, Grand Écrasant slammed its fist into the ground again, the impact sending a shockwave that cracked the floor and rattled the stands. Another missile fired off randomly, obliterating a section of the wall and pinning down a group of spectators who screamed in terror.

But never fear—the Harmonia Power Rangers were here.

It all happened so fast, Miyuu barely registered the transition from total chaos to whatever this was. One second, everyone was screaming and running like headless chickens; the next, Jun’s voice sliced through the noise.

Jun stood in the front row, holding the green and red announcer bots like a pair of misbehaving action figures. They flailed wildly in his grip. Jun didn’t seem to care. With one hand, he effortlessly pinned them in place, speaking into their mics. “Everyone, please evacuate in an orderly fashion!”

Amazingly, this worked. The trampling slowed. People stopped panicking long enough to rediscover basic motor functions and calmy shuffled toward the exits. Miyuu chalked this miraculous turnaround up to Jun’s disarming mix of baby-faced charm and probably strong enough to punch through concrete.

Behind him, Riku deployed a swarm of drones. Efficient little things, zipping through the air and clearing debris off trapped students. Perched on Riku’s shoulder was a red-and-white bio-mec owl that Miyuu recognised as the school nurse.

The owl flapped down to tend to wounded students, its talons delicately manoeuvring first-aid supplies, while Riku assisted.

On the sidelines, Shion was doing his thing. His cybernetic eye flickered, scanning the trapped student and directing Riku to them with a series of vague gestures that somehow made perfect sense. 

Simultaneously, he tapped at an invisible interface with one hand. A second later, the arena grid sputtered back online, forming a barrier between the crowd and the rampaging bot. It sparked, flickered, and looked like it might set something on fire at any moment, but hey, it was a barrier. Kind of.

Meanwhile, Haruki and Kaito made their entrance by front-flipping from the stands directly into the pit. Miyuu couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Show-offs.

Without missing a beat, they raised their weapons in unison and fired. Glowing blue, Kyronite bullets streaked through the air, each one leaving a trail of light before slamming into Grand Écrasant’s oversized head. Sparks flew. Metal shards burst outward. The bot staggered, swayed, and finally toppled backward with a ground-shaking thunk. Miyuu was 90% sure the floor was now cracked, but hey, not her problem.

What was her problem? The missile Grand Écrasant had fired just before it bit the dust. She should have noticed it, but no, she was busy watching the flashy light show and thinking about how much debris was going to need clearing later. It wasn’t until Haruki swooped in that she realized—oh. That’s heading straight for me.

With one arm around her torso and the other grabbing her hand, Haruki yanked her out of the way, dipping her backward like they were in the finale of a ballroom dance sequence. Miyuu could feel the missile’s explosion behind her, the heat licking at her skin as it detonated, debris scattering in the background. Her attention, unfortunately, was not on that. It was on Haruki. Specifically, on Haruki’s face, which was about three inches away. Too close. Way too close.

Heat flushed her cheeks. She tried to blame the explosion, but nope, this was full-on embarrassment. Their sudden intimacy felt borderline inappropriate. Her heart betrayed her by skipping a beat. This is fine. Totally fine. Not weird at all.

And then, just as she thought it couldn’t get worse, Haruki spoke. “You stupid, arrogant, selfish girl.” He scolded, his tone sharper than the shrapnel still raining down around them. Before she could even think of a snarky response, he pulled her into a tight hug, holding on like he was afraid she might dissolve into pixels if he let go.

“We were so worried.” He said, his voice softer now. Guilt clawed its way into her chest,

Miyuu, completely out of her depth, let her arms hang awkwardly at her sides. She had no idea what to say to that—what was the protocol for being chastised and hugged at the same time? So she settled for glaring at the nearest piece of smouldering debris instead.