Dies Irae (Part II)

[December 25th, 11:30 JST]

Tokyo Prefecture – Adachi Disaster Relief Center

The relief center had been assembled in haste. Rows of thin mats covered the floor, injured civilians lying shoulder to shoulder, some groaning from fractured limbs. Those critically wounded had already been sent to Adachi Hospital, but even that had overflowed. The rest were brought here.

Emiko sat at the edge of the hall, knees drawn close to her chest, staring at her phone without blinking. The dark screen reflected her hollow eyes, unable to let the tears fall.

Reina and the others had already reported what happened to Takeshi.

“Emiko-san... I’m sorry.”

Takeshi’s voice came through the earpiece, low and careful.

She didn’t respond.

Emiko stayed where she was, arms wrapped around her legs, phone still clutched in her hand. The others tried to approach, but she shook her head once, barely lifting it. They stopped.

Reina gestured for her team to rest, then move among the wounded. She remained at a distance, watching Emiko silently. After a moment, she pressed her earpiece, tuning to a private line.

“Takeshi,” she said quietly. “Do you read me?”

“Yes. How is she?”

Reina exhaled, unsure how to answer. She shifted instead.

“You owe us an explanation about that device.”

There was a pause.

“...Right,” Takeshi said. “I’ll explain what I can. Can you go to the JSDF tent? There’s something I want you to check out.”

Reina glanced back at Emiko, then toward the rows of wounded civilians filling the hall, her team circulating among them.

“...Understood,” she said.

She stepped away from the hall, heading toward the cluster of temporary command tents being set up outside.

Reina sensed it. A faint frequency bled into the air from the crates being unloaded by a Foundation van near the tents. A soldier pried one open. Inside were rifle magazines, dark casings packed tight. Soldiers were already loading them into their standard-issue assault rifles. Only a handful of crates.

“I saw bullets,” she said quietly. “They... felt wrong.”

“Let’s start with the device first,” Takeshi replied. “The researchers are calling it a Dispersion Unit. As you can feel, it emits a field wide enough to cover the entire city. But it comes at a cost.”

“They don’t last long,” she said, recalling what she had overheard.

“Yes. They’re only prototypes,” Takeshi said. “I only received this information today.”

“How long do we have?”

“They can’t give an estimate. We only know the field is degrading over time.”

“And the bullets?” Reina asked, as a soldier noticed her presence and stepped closer.

Before Takeshi could answer, the man was already in front of her, offering his hand.

“Aria Corps?” he asked.

Reina took it. “Tempesta Unit.”

“Lieutenant Kanda,” he said. “Thank you for keeping us safe. And for assisting with the rescue.”

Reina forced a smile. Her gaze drifted back to the crates.

The lieutenant followed it.

“Those rounds?” he said. “The Foundation claims they’ve found a way for us regular soldiers to fight those... things. They warned these bullets are... pricy. But at least this gives the army an edge.”

Takeshi’s voice crackled.

“The bullets are made entirely from Novium, etched with Aria-based resonance,” he said. “Tests show they’re effective against Level 1 and Level 2 CODA. But Level 3 and above...”

Takeshi fell silent.

“The price is high,” the man said, as if he knew what she was thinking.

Reina looked at Kanda’s face, a faint smile there — worn by someone who had already accepted his fate.

“Each shot takes a little of our life.”

Reina froze.

Before she could respond, Takeshi’s voice surged into the shared channel.

“What the—Tempesta Unit, immediate redeploy. Multiple resonance signatures detected. This time, they’re inside central Tokyo.”

Static flared.

“The CODA have returned. I repeat—the CODA have returned.”

The helicopter’s cabin rattled as it cut toward Tokyo. No one spoke. Takeshi’s briefing continued in clipped phrases, words about generators and resonance bleeding together into background.

Then Emiko’s phone vibrated.

Two voicemails.

She pressed the first. A melody played through.

Everyone froze. It was soft and familiar.

Color of Tomorrow.

But the song that was being played through the phone’s small speaker was uneven — missing beats in places, too fast in others. The song broke off halfway before starting again. As if it had been recorded alone. As if the singer had stopped to breathe, then forced herself to continue.

Emiko listened without blinking. Her grip tightened around the phone until her knuckles turned white. Once, the song cut out entirely... then resumed, weaker.

When it ended, the second message played.

Tears began to pool at her eyes.

The voice of her parents filled the cabin.

“... Emiko, don’t worry about us.”

Something crashed in the background. A cough.

“Go. Remember my teaching. Make us proud.”

When the second voicemail ended, Emiko slowly lowered the phone. Her shoulders shook once, before the sound finally broke through her throat.

“... She’s still singing,” she whispered.

Tears spilled freely now, pressing the phone to her chest, fearing it might disappear.

“And... my parents,” she said, voice fracturing. “They left me a message. I didn’t hear it until now.”

No one spoke.

Reina stepped forward first, resting a hand lightly against Emiko’s head. Momoko followed, pulling her into a tight embrace. The others gathered close, saying nothing, letting the moment take its shape.

Emiko wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve. When she looked up again, her eyes were red, but focused.

“P-kun,” she said, voice still shaking, no longer empty. “You’re sure that resonance you detected... it’s Yuzu-chan?”

Takeshi’s reply came quietly.

“Yes, I’m certain. She didn’t distort it this time.”

Emiko nodded once.

The helicopter touched down in the middle of Shibuya Crossing. JSDF personnel were still evacuating civilians, shouting directions as barricades went up around the intersection. Several Dispersion Units had been deployed at a distance, their faint fields could be felt in the air. But beyond their perimeter, the black smoke within the fog pressed closer, clearer than before.

A cluster of teenage girls stood off to one side — recruits, too many of them — black uniforms stiff with fear. Their eyes snapped toward the aircraft the moment it settled.

Reina stepped out first.

The reaction was immediate.

“Senpai... do we really have to fight?”

“I don’t want to die...”

“Isn’t there another way...?”

The questions came all at once, overlapping, frantic. Reina opened her mouth, then closed it again. For the first time, she couldn’t even force a smile. She understood what they were facing.

They weren’t prepared.

Takeshi’s voice cut into her earpiece.

“Go to the clothing store across the street. I’ve asked the staff to prepare something for you.”

Reina glanced down. Their white coats were torn and blackened, stained from earlier battles. None of them had noticed.

She turned and led her team toward the store, leaving the recruits’ questions unanswered. She didn’t have any answers for them. She didn’t even have one for herself.

Inside, the staff ushered them toward a rack set aside at the back.

They stopped.

Tempesta Cadence.

Their performance uniforms, pristine and untouched.

Reina let out a quiet breath that almost became a laugh. The girls reached for their hangers without a word and moved to change.

“I discussed with the other Producers,” Takeshi said, his voice steady as the girls changed. “We’ve come up with a plan. I’ll keep it brief.”

“This second wave of CODA frequency is now spreading across Japan’s major urban centers, not just here. Someone planted these generators in advance, waiting for the first wave to be destroyed before activating them.”

“How long can the Dispersion Units hold?” Misaki asked.

A brief silence.

“Yuzuriha-san’s resonance is growing stronger by the minute,” Takeshi replied. “She’s interfering with the stabilization field. We have to prepare for the worst.”

“How can she even do that?” Emiko asked.

“The Units are built on reversed resonance principles,” Takeshi explained. “They counteract summoning frequencies. With Silentia, interference is... possible. But to sustain it, her Diva grade would need to be near—”

“She is forcing herself,” Emiko cut in. “I want to know why.”

Takeshi paused. Even he didn’t have an answer.

“The other Aria Corps teams are facing the same situation,” he continued. “They’re holding their positions alongside the JSDF, armed with a limited supply of Novium rounds.”

Reina clenched her fist. A weapon that burned away the user’s life wasn’t a solution. It was desperation.

“The recruits,” she said tightly. “Why deploy them? They’re not equipped to handle this.”

“The decision came from the Board,” Takeshi said. “They won’t allow headquarters to fall. Tokyo is too important.”

He hesitated, then quoted the order as it was given.

“Defend Tokyo at all costs. This is your mission.”

“So they don’t even care if their own Divas survive?” Nana snapped.

Takeshi let the silence cool before continuing. “This is the plan the Producers agreed on.”

“Reina. You’ll take part of your team and intercept Yuzuriha-san. I’m sending you the coordinates now. The rest will remain here to defend Tokyo, protect the civilians—and the recruits. Other teams are already preparing for the worst.”

No one spoke.

“P-kun,” Momoko said softly. “Tonight, we’ll bring Yuzu-chan back. And then we’ll have hotpot again. The whole team.”

“...Yes,” Takeshi replied after a pause. “I’ll be waiting for all of you. Take care.”

The line went quiet, even their new uniforms couldn’t lift the weight settling over them.

“P-kun,” Emiko said at last. “I have a request.”

“Connect me to every channel,” she said as she stepped out of the store, heading toward the recruits waiting outside.

The recruits’ faces turned toward them all at once. A few JSDF soldiers had already raised their rifles, fingers tense on the triggers. Reina felt it immediately. The faint, biting resonance of Novium pulsing from the weapons in their hands.

Emiko raised her D-Mic and began to hum.

A familiar melody flowed out, soft at first. Light gathered beneath her feet, rising in a pale pillar that lifted her above the ground.

“Hello. This is Miyagawa Emiko of Team 02. Can you all hear me?”

Her voice steadied as she drew a breath and sang the chorus of Color of Tomorrow.

“No matter how many tears we cry,

the world before us grows wider.

Your true strength is already in your hands.

For tomorrow’s dawn to rise again,

we’ll face danger with a fearless laugh

and send the colors of hope into the future.”

As the chorus faded, memories surfaced—

the laughter of her team,

Yuzuriha’s quiet presence,

her parents’ voices, warm and gentle.

“Please... lend me a little of your time,” Emiko said softly. “I want you to listen to what I have to say.”

Reina and the others lifted their heads.

“When I first sang on stage as an Aria Corps Diva, I was happy. I met new friends. I grew stronger. I saw people smile because of our songs.”

She swallowed.

“That was the first time I truly felt blessed to be a Diva.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

“But right now… there’s someone precious to me who is suffering. She was one of us.”

Her voice trembled, but she didn’t stop.

“I want to save her. Because if I can’t… I don’t think I’ll be able to keep smiling anymore.”

She closed her eyes.

“My dad once told me this,” Emiko continued.

“As a Diva, every mission you’re deployed on could be your last. Whether you choose to gamble your life… that choice is yours.”

She opened her eyes again, meeting the fear she saw reflected back at her.

“I know this is the hardest fight we’ve ever faced. I know we’re all afraid. I’m afraid too.”

Her hands tightened around the D-Mic.

“But if we turn away now… who will protect the people we love? Our families. Our future.”

Her firm voice rose.

“For the smile of tomorrow. For everyone standing here, and for those we hold dear—even if we cry today, dawn will rise again.”

“I promise you,” Emiko said, voice breaking yet resolute.

“No matter what happens today… we will smile together tomorrow. Our hope will reach them.”

She bowed her head slightly.

“So please—fight with me. Together. And send our colors into the future.”

Emiko finished the song, for herself, and for those she loved.

Silence followed.

Far beyond the perimeter, a Dispersion Unit reached its limit and detonated, causing a chain reaction with other units.

The black horde outside surged forward at once.

Yet no one ran.

Recruits. Soldiers. Divas. Teams across Japan.

They faced the oncoming darkness with the same resolve—

for the smiles they chose to protect.