The Light That Blinded the Night

Three days had passed since their arrival at Yokota. The base, though overcrowded and tense, had settled into a rhythm of false normality. The wounded healed, supplies were rationed, and guard patrols were doubled.

That morning, the atmosphere shifted. Kyosuke had returned.

The Commander landed his personal transport on the main runway, covered in dust and with his uniform torn, but with his trademark grin intact. Spotting Natasha supervising the unloading of ammunition, he ran toward her with open arms, completely ignoring military protocol.

“Natasha! My Queen!” Kyosuke shouted, striking a theatrical pose. “I thought I’d never see your beautifully bitter face again!”

He lunged for a crushing hug. Natasha didn’t even blink. She took a single, smooth, and precise step to her left. Kyosuke embraced empty air and stumbled, nearly face-planting into a crate.

“You reek of Ogre blood, Kyosuke,” Natasha said, crossing her arms, her voice as sharp as ever.

“So cruel! I just returned from the jaws of death!” he complained, brushing off the dust.

However, as Kyosuke turned to bark orders at his subordinates, Natasha allowed herself one second of vulnerability. A small, almost invisible smile curved her lips as she watched her comrade’s back. He was alive. That was all that mattered.

That same night, in the North Watchtower.

Thanks to a Kijin’s superior biology, Yamato and Shinji’s wounds had healed at a miraculous speed. Though Yamato still wore a bandage on his forearm and Shinji a wrap around his forehead, both were already fit for light duty. The three friends had been assigned to the night watch. It was the first time in weeks they’d had real privacy.

The cold wind swept across the dark runway, whistling through the wire fences. Ken leaned on the metal railing, staring south, toward where his home used to be.

“So then…” Ken broke the silence, still gazing into the darkness. “What exactly happened at Hachioji?”

Shinji and Yamato exchanged a nervous glance. The air grew heavy. Yamato adjusted his glasses, which reflected the moonlight, and sighed.

“It was… strange,” Yamato began, his usual analytical tone tinged with a slight tremor. “It started two nights before the final attack. Out of nowhere, all the nocturnal creatures in the forest began shrieking. Not battle roars, but panicked screams. They fled the area en masse, ignoring the fortress. As if something bigger had scared them off.”

“Central Command thought it was a natural migration or a magnetic anomaly,” Shinji interjected, rubbing his arm. “They ignored it. A mistake.”

“The next night,” Yamato continued, “the sky lit up.”

Ken frowned. “Fire?”

“No. Light. A white light. It exploded right above the fortress. Those on the walls looking up were temporarily blinded. The surveillance cameras burned out. We were lucky—we were inside the dorms playing cards.”

Yamato paused, recalling the terror. “When the light faded… the chaos arrived. First were the Earth Onis; they smashed the West Gate like it was paper. Then, creatures we’d never seen before… fast, lethal. They outnumbered us.”

“We fought,” Shinji said, clenching his fists. “I swear we fought, Ken. But we couldn’t stop them. Kyosuke gave the evacuation order for the lower ranks. We were running for the trucks when a group of creatures cut us off. We were going to die.”

Shinji hung his head. “Then Tanimoto appeared. He charged them alone. He looked at us and yelled, ‘A high-ranking Kijin’s duty is to protect those of lower rank! Get out of here, novices!’ And then… the wall collapsed between us and him.”

Ken gripped the metal railing until his knuckles turned white. Guilt burned in his gut. “Damn it… I should have been there. If I hadn’t left for that stupid training… maybe I could have helped Tanimoto.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Shinji cut in firmly. “If you’d been there, you’d have died with us or been a liability. Look at you now. Your presence is different. You look stronger. This is better.”

Ken sighed, releasing the railing. “I guess…”

“By the way,” Yamato asked, trying to lighten the gloomy mood, “what kind of hellish training did Natasha put you through? Did she make you fight bears?”

Ken scratched his head. “Basically. She took me to a cave where time was weird. I had to survive in a forest where everything—the trees, the water, even the animals—were made of crys…” Ken bit his tongue. He remembered Natasha’s implicit warning not to reveal the location or nature of the Singularity to anyone, not even allies. “…uh, of ice crystals. Yeah, it was really cold. And I had to hunt my own food with a knife.”

Shinji and Yamato stared at him, eyes wide, impressed and a little jealous. “Sounds amazing…” Shinji murmured. “I want that training.”

“Trust me, you don’t,” Ken laughed.

Suddenly, a giant shadow fell over the three of them. “Well, well, well!” boomed a voice behind them. “Is this a reunion party or a watch post?”

All three boys jumped in fright and spun around. Kyosuke stood there, arms crossed and a predatory grin on his face, though his eyes scanned the horizon with deadly seriousness. “Commander!” they shouted in unison, snapping to attention.

“At ease,” Kyosuke said, relaxing his posture. “I see the Trouble Trio is back together. Glad to see you’re not dead. But…” His tone turned authoritative. “…if I catch you chatting instead of watching the perimeter again, I’ll have you scrubbing the latrines with toothbrushes. Understood?”

“YES, SIR!”

“Good. Now, eyes open.” Kyosuke turned to leave but stopped for a second and looked at Ken. “Ken. First thing tomorrow, find me on the runway.”

Kyosuke disappeared into the darkness, leaving the three friends with their hearts racing, yet with a strange sense of security. The Commander was back, and with him came the hope that maybe, just maybe, they could win this war.