Chapter 50.2: The Encounter with Orion’s Watch and the Departure of Team Polaris

Chapter 50.2: The Encounter with Orion’s Watch and the Departure of Team Polaris

✿———✦———✿

“Of all sorrows, none is greater than the parting of the living; Of all joys, none is greater, than the first stirrings of love... right?“

The balcony of the JAA headquarters was suspended high above the glittering, neon arteries of Tokyo, but for me, the air felt thin and suffocating. My name is Wakaouji Genkihime—or just Genki to my friends—and for the last twenty minutes, I had been leaning over the cold stone railing, trying to stop the world from tilting.

Earlier, inside the hall, it had felt as though the stars were screaming. When Satoshi Mei spoke of the "fixed points" slipping, it wasn't just data to me; it was a physical blow to my equilibrium. My ears had rung with a frequency I couldn't explain, a resonance that made my vision blur and my stomach churn. I felt like a spectator in my own body, a ghost haunted by the very celestial mechanics I had spent years studying as an astronomy student. I hadn't contributed like the others. While Kazuaki stood as our pillar, navigating the complex inquiries of the judges with a calm that bordered on the divine, I had simply... withered.

The presentation had been a success—a "Perfecto" performance that had earned us a thunderous ovation—but as I watched my team cheer, packing our vintage brass gear with triumphant smiles, I felt a profound sense of displacement. I was the "Aquarian Girl’s" polar opposite: a girl drowning in the very water she was supposed to carry.

Eventually, the biting wind of the balcony began to ground me. The dizziness receded into a dull throb, and I finally found the strength to push myself off the railing and head back inside. I needed to face the giants one last time.

The atmosphere inside the auditorium had shifted from high-tension competition to a strange, buzzing limbo. While the judges withdrew for their two-week deliberation, the floor had become a marketplace of ideas and egos. As I re-entered, I saw that our bench was no longer just occupied by our team.

A new group had approached us—not the icy perfectionists of SANA, but a team that carried an aura of rugged, cosmic ambition. Their jackets bore the crest of a hunter: Team Orion’s Watch.

At their head stood a man with slightly messy black hair and an infectious, lopsided grin. He introduced himself as Myoui Kamei Benjamin, or simply “Captain B.”

“Like the old planet over there,” he chuckled, gesturing vaguely toward the ceiling with a casual, intimidating friendliness. “Capt-B, at your service.”

His vice-captain, Mochizuki Keiseira, stood beside him. With her dreadlocks and a stride that seemed even more tomboyish than our own Momiji and Rui’s, she radiated a sharp, street-smart intelligence. They looked slightly older than me—perhaps Chinatsu’s age—but their eyes held the unmistakable spark of true believers.

“I’m a Kobe local, just like you guys,” Captain B continued, his eyes locked onto Kazuaki with genuine respect. “But I spent my time getting my Master’s in Astronomy at the Cambridge Institute of Technology. We’ve been following the Moon Tracker data for a while. You guys are doing something... different.”

Mitsuki, never one to miss a spotlight, immediately stepped forward. He flicked his hair, straightened his uniform, and struck a pose that was entirely too dramatic for a packing session. “I am Aoba Mitsuki, Leader of the Astrophysics Division for the Moon Tracker Team,” he declared, conveniently forgetting that Kazuaki was the captain.

Captain B gave a confused, awkward laugh before turning his full attention back to Kazuaki. “That presentation... it was flawless, Minato. Truly. You caught onto the Polar Night anomaly before the JAA and JAXA even realized the sensors were failing. It was like watching a hunter track a scent that doesn't exist yet.”

The conversation quickly descended into deep technical territory. Keiseira pulled out a notebook, her eyes widening as she examined our "relic" equipment—the ancient brass tubes we had retrofitted with AI-driven analysis protocols.

“What is this?” she asked, tracing the engravings on a lens housing. “This isn't standard JAA issue.”

“It’s an upgrade,” Mitsuki explained, his ego inflating by the second. “We call it the Sadametoki Protocol. It’s based on the cosmic shift that occurs during the pre-dawn hour—the moment when the veil between the physical and the divine is thinnest. We use AI to filter the atmospheric noise during that specific spiritual window.”

The Orion’s Watch team looked mesmerized. It was a bridge between the ancient and the digital, a concept that seemed to trigger something in Captain B’s "hunter" soul. However, the warmth of the moment was abruptly punctured by a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

Team SANA had arrived.

Amagai Terasumi approached like a glacier. She didn't look at Captain B; she looked through him, her gaze settling on Kazuaki with a terrifyingly flat intensity. I felt my breath hitch. I couldn't even meet her eyes.

“Minato Kazuaki,” she said, her voice a monotone command. “There is something I need to discuss with you regarding the lunar-solar intersection.”

She didn't ask. She simply took Kazuaki’s phone from his hand, typed in her number, and handed it back. A second later, her own phone buzzed in her pocket. “I will contact you later,” she said, turning on her heel and walking away without a single glance at the rest of us.

I saw Chinatsu and Yukifuyu exchange a look. It wasn't just academic rivalry anymore. I could see the tension in Chinatsu’s jaw and the way Yukifuyu’s hand tightened into a small, trembling fist. It was the unmistakable, sharp sting of jealousy, a silent storm brewing behind their professional masks.

The "Cold War" between the teams flared up instantly. Kaneshiro, SANA’s resident provocateur, stepped forward with a sneer. “Move aside, you stray stars,” he barked at Orion’s Watch. “The adults are trying to work.”

“Wow, you’re remarkably humble today, Mr. Saturn,” shot back Ichikei Torabi, one of Captain B’s researchers.

Ishikori Suisei, SANA’s vice-captain, stared down Keiseira with a look of pure ice. “We don't need to act familiar just to prove our worth, isn't that right, Keisei?”

“You should just keep quiet, you sycophant,” Keiseira spat back, her eyes flashing with irritation.

I took several steps back, wanting no part of the impending explosion.

As the shouting match began to dissolve into a low simmer, a new presence moved toward our cluster. Team Polaris was ready to depart.

Satoshi Mei approached the group, her porcelain features glowing under the fluorescent lights. Kaneshiro, surprisingly, stepped toward her with a look of uncharacteristic earnestness.

“Mei-san,” Kaneshiro said, his voice dropping the aggressive edge. “Before you head back to Kobe... think about what I said. Team SANA has been the backbone of the JAXA and JAA for a decade. We have the resources you lack. Instead of competing, why don't we integrate? Collaboration would guarantee the success of the Horizon Project.”

Mitsuki, refusing to be outdone, jumped into the fray. “Wait! Mei-san! My offer of encrypted data exchange still stands! Think of the synergy! The Moon and the Stars, dancing in a digital embrace!”

Mei let out a light, tinkling laugh that seemed to bounce off the walls like crystal. She looked at Kaneshiro, then at Mitsuki, her eyes twinkling with that "gal-style" amusement. “You guys are so persistent! It’s actually kind of charming,” she said, tucking a strand of ash-violet hair behind her ear. “Collaboration, huh? I’ll give it a thought. Maybe. I’ll have my analysts run the numbers on your ‘synergy,’ Mitsuki-kun!”

She gave a playful wave to the room, her gaze sweeping across the faces of the researchers. She thanked the staff, nodded politely to Terasumi, and offered a lingering, bright smile to Kazuaki. She acknowledged everyone.

Everyone... except me.

I stood directly in her path as she began to walk toward the exit. I was waiting for the eye contact, for the professional nod, for any sign that she saw another human being standing there.

But as Satoshi Mei approached, her eyes stayed fixed on the doors ahead. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs. She didn't slow down. She didn't swerve.

And then, the world broke.

As she reached the space where I was standing, there was no impact. There was no shoulder-check, no "excuse me." Satoshi Mei simply... passed through.

I felt a sudden, violent chill—a sensation like being plunged into liquid nitrogen for a fraction of a second. My vision flickered, the colors of the auditorium bleeding into a monochromatic grey. I saw her beautiful hair pass through my chest like smoke, her porcelain skin shimmering like a ghost’s reflection on water. It was beyond logic, a glitch in the very fabric of the room.

And then she was past me. She continued her stride, her heels clicking rhythmically on the floor, her laughter still echoing as she walked through the double doors and disappeared.

I stood there, paralyzed, my breath hitching in a silent sob of shock. I looked around wildly. No one had noticed. Jiro was still complaining to Kaneshiro; Mitsuki was still trying to look cool; Kazuaki was focused on his tablet. To them, it had been a normal departure.

“Genki-chan?”

A hand touched my shoulder, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. It was Yukifuyu. She was looking at me with deep concern, her brow furrowed. “You’re white as a sheet again. And you’re shivering. Did the wind on the balcony catch up to you?”

I couldn't speak. I looked at the closed doors where the "Aquarian Girl" had just walked through my soul. My hands were trembling so violently I had to hide them in the folds of my lab coat.

“I... I’m fine,” I lied, my voice cracking. “Just tired. I think... I think I just need to go home.”

✿———✦———✿

The journey back to Kobe felt like a fever dream. We boarded the plane, the distant hum of the engines providing a backdrop to the quiet chatter of my teammates. They were talking about the two-week wait, about the JAA’s next move, and about the "Project Horizon" roster.

But as I looked out the window at the sea of clouds beneath us, I couldn't think about science. I couldn't think about the Moon or the Sun. I could only think about the sensation of a person being made of nothing but starlight and air.

I had been an astronomy student. I believed in gravity, in mass, in the solid reality of the celestial bodies. But today, I had been walked through by a ghost who carried the name of a constellation.

“We did well, didn’t we?” Chinatsu said, leaning across the aisle, her expression finally softening from the jealousy of the afternoon. “Now we just wait for the call.”

“Yeah,” I whispered, forcing a small, hollow smile. “We wait.”

I closed my eyes, but I didn't see the dark. I saw the indigo glow of Aquarius, and I felt the cold, empty space where a girl named Mei had passed through me, leaving nothing but the terrifying realization that the world we were trying to save might not be solid at all.