Nocturne

[November 14th, 21:10 JST]

Tokyo Prefecture – Harmonia Foundation Tama Facility, Patient Room

Reina was the first to break the silence that lingered after the news broadcast.

Her voice was calm, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

“P-kun… our operation in Nagano is already covered up, right? Then why is this Akashino incident being aired? They didn’t deploy any of our team there?”

Takeshi didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed fixed on the darkened television, as if he were searching for words inside its reflection. When he finally spoke, his tone was quiet.

“From what I heard, they sent Team 03. But they miscalculated the timing. By the time they arrived, it was already too late. Everything had already started.”

Emi, still lying beside Reina on the bed, turned her head toward him. “Team 03… wait. Didn’t we pass some of them in the hallway earlier? Their eyes looked so empty… not a spark of life left. What happened to them?”

“Yeah,” Momoko added softly. Concern flickered in her sky-blue eyes. “One of them was still crying when we saw them.”

All eyes turned to Takeshi. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair before answering.

“This is just what I heard from their producer,” he said. “When Team 03 arrived, the slaughter was already happening right in front of them. People were being torn apart by the mist itself. There was no time to react, no orders to follow. Only chaos. He told me his girls froze — too shocked to even sing. And by the time they regained their composure, it was over. They wiped out the remaining CODA, but all the villagers… they were gone. Dissolved into the black mist.”

Reina’s hand clenched before she even realized it. She knew that sight, the way death imprints itself behind your eyelids and refuses to leave. Her gaze drifted toward Takeshi; his expression had hardened, the same way hers once had. He had seen it too.

The room fell utterly still. Only the soft beeping of the monitor filled the silence.

“They must’ve been traumatized.” Takeshi continued after a pause. “There was no time to handle the aftermath. A passing driver witnessed the scene and called the police before the team could seal the area. The Foundation ordered an immediate retreat. We let the media run with it, since a mystery is better than the truth. As long as CODA isn’t mentioned, the public won’t connect it to the Novium meteorite. Not yet.”

He straightened, her tone firming. “We were lucky at Nagano. But remember this.” His eyes swept across the team. “Now that CODA has returned, death will come with it. Sooner or later, you’ll see it up close. Prepare yourselves. A Diva doesn’t have the luxury of turning away from the front line.”

He rose from his chair, smoothing his back coat before stepping toward the door.

“I’ll give you the rest of the night to rest. Tomorrow morning at eight sharp, go to Meeting Room Zero One. The director and I will conduct a full debrief.”

He paused in the doorway, glancing back at the girls. 

In a gentler voice, he said, “Good night, everyone.”

The door clicked shut behind Takeshi. For a long, breathless second no one spoke; the machines’ soft beeps seemed impossibly loud in the hush.

Nana broke it first. “Death, huh…” Her voice tried for casual, but It landed heavy. She folded her hands into a fist, golden eyes bright yet uncertain. “I can’t even imagine how Team 03 must feel right now. Watching that… I wouldn’t—” She stopped herself and exhaled. “Had any of you ever experienced it?”

Heads shook slowly around the room. When all eyes landed on their leader, Reina tried to force a small shake of denial to make the lie easier. The motion stalled halfway. Her silence said enough.

Emi slid closer and wrapped Reina in a tight hug. The leader trembled for a heartbeat, then steadied under the warmth.

Nana’s grin faded when she saw it. “Sorry,” she said quietly.

Reina smiled faintly and gestured for her to come closer. “It’s okay.” She said softly. “You didn’t mean it. It’s… a long time ago. Don’t blame yourself for asking.” She reached up and ruffled Nana’s short, spiky hair with a gentle touch, a quiet gesture of forgiveness.

Then Reina looked around the room, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “You’re my team. My juniors. My friends.” She let the words linger. “If we ever face something like that, we face it together. Every fight against CODA carries unknowns, whether it’s for civilians or for us. The only thing we can do is not run. We stand and we fight together. We Divas are the only ones who can defeat them.”

Mika folded her arms, unflappable as ever. “Then I’ll make sure you can keep leading us,” she said, her voice steady and sure. “I’ll be the anchor. I won’t let anything throw our rhythm apart.” Her tone held the quiet certainty of the earth she commanded.

Momoko leaned forward, a crooked grin brightening her face. “Then I’ll make sure the wind’s at your back, and blow them all away.” Her voice was light, her humor breezy, but the spark in her sky-blue eyes was unmistakably real.

Emiko’s fingers curled around the edge of Rein’s sleeve. Her smile was small and warm; her voice, though soft, carried a fragile confidence that defied her age. Recruited at fifteen for her rare resonance with Lux Cantus, she spoke with quiet conviction.

“I’ll do everything I can to support everyone. I believe Lux Cantus chose me for a reason and I’ll be the light that keeps you whole.” The words were tender, but they rang with the purity of truth.

Misaki, watching with her usual calm tilt of the head, finally spoke. “Panicking isn’t useful. Training is. I’m heading to the virtual sim room before we turn in — anyone want to join?” Her tone was crisp and pragmatic, her invitation half challenge and half reassurance.

Nana’s jaw tightened; she balled her fist until her knuckles shone. The fire in her eyes said more than any promise could. Emi’s grip on Reina’s hand tightened until knuckles turned white, no words behind it, just devotion.

Reina let their confidence wash over her like a warmth through cold air. Gratitude rose in her chest, quiet and fierce. She looked at each girl, memorizing their faces and the trust in their eyes. In that moment, she made a private vow: she would keep them safe. She would watch them grow, and she would let them keep singing for as long as she breathed.

Her lips curved into a small, resolute smile. For a moment, she thought of Takeshi. He rarely said it aloud, but she knew he felt the same.

This team, these girls, were everything to them both.

Nana stretched her arms with a long yawn. “Alright, enough sad talk for one night. I’m hitting the sim room with Misaki-san before she lectures me about form again.”

Misaki gave a faint smirk, already halfway to the door. “Good. Maybe this time you’ll last longer than five minutes before tripping your own flame doing a complicated punching moveset.”

“Oi, that was one time! Besides, boxers are so cool.” Nana protested, hurrying after her. The door creaked open, then clicked shut behind them before anyone could say another word.

Momoko laughed, looping her arms behind her head. “Guess that’s my cue. Someone’s got to keep those two from breaking the equipment again.” She shot Reina a wink. “Do you ever wonder how a gravity user and a fire user mix that well? It’s like they’re born to argue.”

Mika stood and adjusted her jacket, her voice calm and grounded. “I’ll join them. Better to sharpen skills than overthink things.” Her olive-green eyes softened briefly as she looked back. “Get some rest, senpai. See you tomorrow.”

Emiko stood next, smiling toward Reina as she gave a polite bow before quietly following Mika’s footsteps out the door.

Reina smiled, wishing them all goodnight as the room emptied, the last door click echoing softly behind them.

Only Emi stayed.

She still lay beside Reina, her arms wrapped securely around the captain’s left arm, silver-gray hair brushing against Reina’s sleeve. Her soft-lilac eyes stayed open, calm and unblinking, their reflection catching the light.

“Emi?” Reina asked gently.

“I’ll stay,” she said, her tone calm but firm. “Just for a while longer. Tonight, I want to sleep beside you.” She hugged Reina’s arm even tighter, her words simple yet full of warmth.

Reina only smiled. Emi had always meant more to her than just a teammate, more than a friend. One of the newest recruits earlier this year, Emi had struggled with resonance control much like Reina once did. Maybe that was why Reina saw herself in her. She’d often found Emi practicing alone after lights-out, polishing her Ars Aria or refining her choreography, determination burning quietly in her eyes.

Reina had taken her under her wing, teaching her everything she could. And when the time came to form Tempesta’s lineup, she was the one who’d asked Takeshi to personally bring Emi into the team.

Emi shifted closer in her sleep, her grip tightening around Reina’s arm, face resting lightly against her shoulder. Reina exhaled a small, tired laugh, brushing her hand gently through Emi’s soft hair before turning off the room light.

Moonlight streamed faintly through the glass panels, bathing the room in pale silver.

Tonight, they simply held onto each other, the warmth of trust keeping the cold away.