What Doesn’t Kill You… Will Probably Try Again

There was a particular kind of awkward silence that only follows massive, chaotic disasters where everyone somehow survives by sheer dumb luck. The arena, now eerily empty, was filled with the smell of burnt metal and chemicals from whatever questionable ingredients Natsuki had thrown into the goo grenades. It clung to everything: the air, her clothes, her dignity.

The crowd had cleared out, leaving behind only the remains of Grand Écrasant, lying lifeless and headless in the pit.

Once the chaos finally fizzled out, the student council immediately started doting on her. Bandages, antiseptic sprays, and concerned glances flew at her from all directions. It was suffocating. Miyuu wasn’t sure if they thought she was missing a limb or actively bleeding out, but they were working with that level of urgency. She was fine. Bruised, sore, and emotionally drained, sure, but fine.

Surviving the assassination attempt had been great and all, but surviving this? The onslaught of the Student Council’s righteous fury? Unlikely. She wasn’t not relieved she hadn’t died, but the fact that she’d gotten caught? Now that was annoying.

Currently, Miyuu was kneeling on the unforgiving metal floor. She crossed her arms, her chin lifted just enough to make it clear that while she might have to endure this, she was absolutely not going to grovel. No way. Not happening. Let them scold her all they wanted. She’d face it with dignity—well, as much dignity as someone covered in ash and goo could muster.

Meanwhile, Bolts had wisely noped out of the aftermath, mumbling something about checking on the Circuit Pit members and ensuring everyone made it out okay. Yeah right. He just didn’t have the backbone to withstand the murderous aura currently radiating from the student council. Coward.

Natsuki, bless her misguided heart, stood nearby in full Shadow Phantom of the Toxic Pond gear, like that was going to fool the student council. She tugged nervously at her mask, clearly debating whether or not to speak up. And because Natsuki didn’t know when to quit, she did.

“This isn’t all Miyuu’s fault.” Natsuki said, stepping forward. “If anything, whoever programmed that—”

“Stop.”

Riku’s voice cut through the air like a whip. Sharp, cold, and with just enough edge to make even Miyuu flinch. He turned on Natsuki, his eyes narrowing in that terrifying you’ve just made things worse way. “If you don’t want to share in her punishment,” he continued, “I suggest you let Shion escort you back to your dorm.”

Natsuki’s heroic defence deflated on the spot, her mask tilting downward like she was trying to sink into it and disappear. For a second, Miyuu thought she might push back, but no. Shion, who had been lurking at the edge of the group, stepped forward. “Shall we?” He said, gesturing toward the exit with all the politeness of a snake about to swallow a mouse. It was clear he was already drafting an exhaustive lecture in his head, complete with bullet points and a Q&A session.

Natsuki hesitated for a moment, shoulders slumping in defeat. She turned to Miyuu, offering an apologetic glance from behind her ridiculous mask, then skittered off after Shion.

Miyuu sighed internally. Great. Another win for the Student Council’s Scowl and Glare Division.

Now it was just Miyuu and the remaining council members. Her knees were starting to ache from kneeling, but she wasn’t about to risk standing until someone gave her permission.

Haruki stood in front of her, his expression a deadly combination of disappointment and barely contained fury. It was the look of someone trying very hard not to yell. “Miyuu.” he began, his voice surprisingly calm. “Do you have any idea how reckless—no, how dangerous your actions were tonight?”

She shrugged, doing her best to look indifferent. “I’m fine. No big deal.”

Riku’s head snapped up. “Fine?” His voice practically cracked. “You almost died! Fine is not the word I’d use!”

“Calm down.” Miyuu tried, holding up her hands. “It’s not like anything bad actually happened.” Miyuu tried, but the glares she received in return were enough to make her shut up again.

“And what exactly,” Kaito added, his voice somehow soft and terrifying at the same time, “were you planning to do if we hadn’t shown up in time?”

“Die?” Miyuu muttered under her breath, but the weight of their combined glares made her instantly regret it.

How was she supposed to know this was going to happen? It wasn’t like she woke up every day expecting to star in someone’s evil scheme.

Haruki sighed deeply, rubbing his temples like he was praying for patience. “You deactivated your location tracker, snuck out, and went to the Circuit Pit. The Circuit Pit, Miyuu. Do you know what kind of people go there?”

“Fun people?” she ventured, attempting a weak grin.

Jun snorted out a laugh, but it was quickly silenced by one of Kaito’s infamous death glares.

“Wrong.” Kaito said, stepping forward. “Delinquents. Opportunists. People who would sell you for spare parts.” His gaze bore into her like he was trying to implant the reality of her stupidity into her brain. “And do you know what’s worse than that? Someone expected you to do this. They set a trap because they knew you’d be dumb enough to walk right into it.”

She flinched. That hit harder than she wanted to admit.

“I mean,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, “technically everything turned out okay, so… it’s whatever.”

Riku’s eyes practically caught fire. “Oh, technically! Well, let’s just pin a medal on you, Miyuu! Technically not dead!” He threw up his hands. “You were seconds away from being blown apart! Do you know what kind of international crisis that would have caused?”

“Riku…” Jun said, his tone warning, though his expression said he wasn’t exactly disagreeing.

Haruki crouched in front of her, his hands resting on his knees, his voice softening just enough to sting. “We don’t care about the politics, Miyuu. We care about you. You’re more than just some… scientist’s daughter. You’re part of this council. You’re…” He hesitated. “You’re family.”

That word hit like a missile to the gut.

Miyuu swallowed hard, the defiance in her chest giving way to something much heavier. She glanced down at the floor, avoiding their gazes as if the smudged grease beneath her knees could somehow save her from this conversation. Her earlier bravado crumbling under the weight of their words.

“You went too far this time,” Kaito said. “We can’t keep looking the other way when you pull stunts like this. We’re trying to protect you, but if you’re going to insist on acting like a spoiled brat, you’d better be ready to face the consequences.”

Miyuu opened her mouth, intending to snap back, but the words stuck. They were right. She’d deactivated her tracker, snuck out, and walked straight into a trap. And for what? XP? A cheap thrill?

Her stomach twisted. Was she really that reckless? That… stupid?

Her shoulders sagged. “I—” She cleared her throat, her voice quieter now. “I didn’t think it would get that bad.”

“That’s the problem, Miyuu.” Haruki said, standing up. “You didn’t think.”

The silence stretched out, suffocating.

For the first time, Miyuu felt the sting of guilt not as a passing annoyance but as a lead weight in her chest. She’d nearly gotten herself killed. She’d endangered everyone around her. And worst of all, she’d made them— people who inexplicably cared about her, for reasons she couldn’t wrap her head around—feel like they’d failed her. That part stung the most.

“I’m sorry.” She said finally, the words tasting bitter but necessary. “I screwed up.”

“Yeah, you did.” Riku muttered, but the heat in his voice had dimmed a little.

Haruki’s expression softened slightly—not enough to let her off the hook, but enough to make the weight in her chest feel a fraction less unbearable. He held out a hand to her. “We’ll figure this out, Miyuu. But no more sneaking off. No more deactivating your tracker. Understood?”

She stared at his hand for a moment, half expecting it to come with some sort of zapper for good measure. But no, it was just… a hand. She nodded, too exhausted out to argue. “Understood.”

Haruki pulled her to her feet. She didn’t let go of his hand immediately, not because she needed the support, but because… well. Maybe she wasn’t ready to admit why.

Her first thought: Mental note—never kneel again. Absolute hell on the knees.
Her second thought: Oh shit.

Grand Écrasant’s headless, supposedly lifeless body twitched. And then it sat back up, sparks spraying from its exposed circuits.

Miyuu froze, her stomach plummeting. No. No, no, no. This was supposed to be over. But it wasn’t. Not even close.

The realization hit her like a slap. The virus—it wasn’t finished. Grand Écrasant was a goddamn ticking time bomb. A literal one. And the timer was about to hit zero.

For one terrifying moment, her brain went completely blank. Just static. She didn’t know how she knew this, or why the certainty felt so absolute, but there it was. Clear as day. If she didn’t act now, this thing wasn’t just going to take her out—it was going to take out K.A.T.O., the Student Council, and probably half the people within a five-block radius.

“Miyuu, wait!” Kaito’s voice barely registered as she pushed past the student council, their protests blurring into background noise.

Her feet pounded against the floor as she sprinted toward the still-twitching bot, adrenaline flooding her veins like molten fire. Every nerve screamed at her to stop, turn around, let literally anyone else handle this, but something deeper—raw, instinctive, and frankly kind of terrifying—kept driving her forward. Energy pulsed through her body, building with every step. Her skin felt like it was on fire, as if she’d been struck by lightning and somehow hadn’t had the good sense to die from it.

The student council shouted after her—commands, questions, panic—but she couldn’t make out a word. The only thing she could focus on was the bot and the strange, electric sensation flooding her system, growing stronger by the second. Her vision narrowed, the world sharpening into a single point of focus.

She reached the bot, her palm slamming against its massive, sparking chest. The instant her hand made contact, the energy inside her surged outward, tearing through her body and into the bot in a blinding flash of light. It felt like being struck by a second bolt of lightning—this one from the inside, ripping through her with enough force to leave her wondering if she still had an “inside” to speak of.

Grand Écrasant tipped backward and crashed to the ground.

And then Miyuu’s knees buckled. She hit the floor hard, the world spinning as the energy drained from her. The last thing she saw before everything went black was the stunned, wide-eyed faces of the student council.

In her last conscious moment, her only thought was: Well, that’s going to be hard to explain.