Chapter 51: The Three Kingdoms War at Kobe Beach

Chapter 51: The Three Kingdoms War at Kobe Beach

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“The strongest fortresses are not made of stone or steel, but of the silent, burning pride of those who refuse to share the same sky.”

The day of refreshing we had all been longing for finally arrived. We, the Moon Tracker Team, had chosen Kobe Beach as our sanctuary—a temporary escape from the suffocating pressure of a world that seemed to be losing its grip on the stars. Late autumn was breathing its last, and the biting chill of winter was already creeping through the air, but that was precisely why we chose this spot. It was quiet, desolate, and the rhythmic pulse of the waves offered a meditative solace that the sterile halls of the JAA couldn't provide.

While Mitsuki, Konoha, Rui and Momiji charged into the surf with a reckless, shivering energy, the rest of us established a base camp on the sand. We pitched a tent and unrolled a large picnic mat, but the "peace" I had hoped for was fragile. From my spot on the corner of the rug, I watched Chinatsu and Yukifuyu. They weren't fighting, but the distance between them was surgical. It was a cold, unspoken tension—an invisible wall that seemed to vibrate whenever their eyes accidentally met.

Kiriha, sitting beside me, noticed my gaze. She leaned in, her voice a low murmur. “We need to thaw the atmosphere, Genki-chan,” she said with a faint, knowing smile. “Or this picnic is going to turn into a frozen wasteland before the first sandwich is eaten.”

Further down the mat, Kazuaki and Yorishiro were—predictably—lost in their laptops. The beach was merely a picturesque backdrop for their continued data mining. It took a stray splash of saltwater from a retreating Mitsuki to break their focus. Yorishiro, usually the calm analyst, suddenly snapped, chasing Mitsuki into the shallows with a roar of mock fury, only to end up being dragged into the waves by the rest of the swimmers. Kazuaki remained unmoving, a statue of academic focus amidst the chaos.

But then, the domestic reality hit: we had forgotten the tomato sauce and the apple juice.

I, Chinatsu, Yukifuyu, and Kiriha volunteered to trek to the nearby supermarket. As we navigated the aisles, the silence between the four of us was heavy—until we turned the corner into the condiment section and ran head-first into a wall of pure, crystalline arrogance.

Amagai Terasumi and her vice-captain, Suisei, were standing there, browsing the shelves in striking beachwear that looked far too expensive for a casual stroll. It was as if they had materialized out of a high-fashion magazine specifically to haunt us.

“Genki,” Kiriha whispered, her hand tightening on the shopping basket. “Why are they here? Is this a coincidence, or a tactical deployment?”

Terasumi didn't offer a greeting. She turned her cold, level gaze toward me, her voice cutting through the hum of the store’s refrigerators. “Where is Minato?”

The temperature in the aisle plummeted. I felt the sharp intake of breath from Chinatsu and Yukifuyu beside me. The air didn't just turn cold; it turned electric with hostility.

“Why?” Chinatsu asked, her voice blunt and devoid of its usual warmth. “Looking to help him? I’m fairly certain Kazuaki doesn't require your assistance, Princess.”

Terasumi’s eyes narrowed, a flash of condescending pity crossing her features. “Minato is a man of logic. I suspect he would be wise enough to choose research partners who actually understand the scale of the crisis we are facing.”

Yukifuyu stepped forward, a thin, needle-sharp smile on her lips. “Not everyone needs a doctorate to contribute something meaningful, Terasumi-san. Or perhaps you’ve forgotten that intuition often leads where data fears to tread?”

“Intuition is just a pretty word for guesswork,” Terasumi countered, her voice rising in a smooth, dangerous crescendo. “He clearly needs an actual astronomer. Someone who speaks the language of the MUST labs, not someone who treats a crisis like a summer hobby.”

Standing between them, I felt like a peasant caught in the crossfire of three warring empresses. It was the Three Kingdoms War reimagined on the coast of Kobe. Chinatsu was Shu—blunt, passionate, and fiercely loyal, ready to charge into the fray for the sake of her heart. Yukifuyu was Wei—cold, calculated, and terrifyingly precise with her verbal strikes. And Terasumi? She was Wu—aloof, arrogant, and standing on a pedestal of perceived superiority, looking down on her rivals as if they were nothing more than ants in the sand.

As the barbs grew sharper—Terasumi accusing them of being "opera drama" and Chinatsu snapping back about Terasumi's lack of a soul—the manager of the store finally appeared.

“Oi, oi! You’re making a scene in my shop!” the owner shouted, his face flushed with indignation.

The three "generals" froze, looking like scolded children for a split second. The tension broke into a frantic, embarrassed scramble as we were practically ushered out of the store. Kiriha and I could barely contain our laughter as we hit the sidewalk.

“That was... theatrical,” Kiriha whispered, clutching her stomach.

The comedy, however, was short-lived. Terasumi’s phone rang—a specific, haunting ringtone. It was Kazuaki. The "war" ended instantly as she turned away to speak to him with professional gravity, her expression glowing with a smug victory that made Chinatsu and Yukifuyu fume.

“As I said,” Terasumi remarked after hanging up, casting one last triumphant look back. “Minato knows who he needs.”

As she and Suisei walked away, Suisei turned back to wave mockingly. “You girls should study harder if you want to keep up with Sumi-chan!” she chirped, only to immediately walk face-first into a lamppost with a resounding CLANG.

While the "Three Kingdoms" simmered in their silent resentment back at the camp, a different kind of energy erupted near the equipment crates. Jiro and Mitsuki were huddled over a smartphone, their faces illuminated by the screen, let out a synchronized, high-pitched yelp of pure joy.

“SHE REPLIED! SHE ACTUALLY REPLIED!” Jiro screamed, jumping up and doing a bizarre victory dance that sent sand flying into our sandwiches.

“The Goddess of Polaris has spoken!” Mitsuki wailed, falling to his knees. “Satoshi Mei has agreed to the collaboration! She said my data synergy was 'super intriguing'! My life... it finally has a purpose!”

Their sheer, unadulterated happiness was the perfect comic relief to the simmering war between the girls. They were hugging each other, crying over a text message, completely oblivious to the fact that the "collaboration" likely meant Mei’s team would be doing the heavy lifting while they just stared at her in awe.

But amidst the laughter and the jealousy, I sat apart.

I looked at the water, and for a moment, the sound of the waves transformed. It wasn't the ocean; it was the hum I had felt when Mei walked through me. A strange, haunting sense of deja vu washed over me—the feeling that this "glitch," this impossible crossing of bodies, had happened before. Not once, but many times.

I tried to grasp the memory, but it was like trying to hold smoke. My past felt blurred, like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. Why did I feel like I had seen Mei’s ghost in a different life? Why did the stars seem to recognize me even when I didn't recognize myself?

“Genki-chan?” Yukifuyu’s voice broke through the fog. She sat down beside me, her anger at Terasumi replaced by that familiar, deep-seated worry. “You’re doing it again. You’re looking at the horizon like you’re about to disappear.”

I blinked, the beach returning to focus. “I’m just... thinking, Yukifuyu. About the three kingdoms. And the stars.”

I offered an awkward smile, but internally, the confusion remained. The battle at Kobe Beach had provided comedy and conflict, but for me, it only deepened the mystery. The Three Kingdoms were fighting for Kazuaki’s attention, but I felt like I was fighting for my own existence—a soldier in a war where the enemy was my own fading memory.