The morning sun bathed the grasslands of Sector Five in golden light as the wooden carriage rumbled swiftly across the plains.
Inside, silence sat heavily among the passengers. Tension thickened with each passing second, the kind that made even small talk feel impossible.
That was until Isabella broke it with a cheerful spark.
"I have an idea!" she chirped, clapping her hands. "Why don't we break the ice and introduce ourselves?"
The recruits remained quiet, exchanging uncertain glances.
Although they were all from Artimia, Theo had never truly interacted with the others outside of school or town run-ins. His circle had always been just David and Dawn. The rest felt like strangers despite the shared hometown.
Not that Isabella seemed to mind.
"I'll start, then!" she said brightly. "My name's Isabella, but you can all call me Bella. And this antisocial up there is—"
A blur dropped from the top of the carriage as Pop cut her off, landing lightly on his feet.
"It's Pop," he said quickly, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
Isabella grinned, spinning back toward the group. "Not his real name, of course. He hates it. Says it sounds too—"
"Bella!" Pop groaned. "Enough."
"Sorry, sorry," she laughed, nudging him with her elbow. "You know I love you, Poppy."
"Don't call me that..."
Isabella turned back to the group with a bright smile. "Anyway! Who's next?"
A hand shot up—bold, confident.
"I'm Aeda Milestone," said the girl with short, curly hair and fierce eyes. "And this is my younger sister, Aida. We're twins."
Aida peeked from behind her sister's shoulder, identical in every way except for her long, straight hair.
"H-hello," she said softly. "Nice to meet you all..."
Isabella smiled. "Aeda and Aida—such pretty names. I'm jealous!"
Next was Clarissa Edwards—a tall, athletic girl with dark green hair tied in a short ponytail and glasses perched on her nose.
"Clarissa," she said with a polite nod. "It's nice meeting you."
Then came Bryce Soto and Arthur Pentadraig, seated beside each other. Bryce had a buzz cut and thick brows, while Arthur had short blond hair and ocean-blue eyes. Their expressions still held remnants of the pain from Artimia.
Curtis, watching them, tapped Bryce on the head. "You're up."
"Huh? Oh. I'm Bryce, and this is—"
Before Bryce could finish, thwack— the blunt end of a wooden sword landed squarely on the back of his head.
"Ow! What the hell, man?!" he barked, rubbing the sore spot.
"I can speak for myself, thank you," Arthur said coolly, stepping forward with a confident smirk.
He gave a short, practiced bow, then reached for Isabella's hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Arthur Pentadraig. A pleasure, my lady."
Isabella giggled, charmed by Arthur's gesture. Bryce, meanwhile, looked like steam might start pouring from his ears.
"Seriously? That hurt!"
Arthur shrugged. "And?"
That was all it took.
Bryce sprang to his feet. "That's it! I've had enough of your wannabe knight act, Pentadraig."
He dropped into a loose, swaying boxing stance, his fists up, his feet bouncing with the rhythm of the moving carriage.
"Come on, Prince Charming. Let's see if your fake sword can block these real hands."
Arthur twirled his wooden sword with flair, flourishing it before pointing it squarely at Bryce's nose.
"Still hiding behind that left jab? Haven't you learned how that went last time?"
"Oh, I remember. I slipped. On gravel. And you cheated."
"With gravity?" Arthur quipped, eyes narrowing with insult. "How unfair of me."
"Bring it, Blondie."
They lunged toward each other in unison — one with fists, the other with wood — and for a moment, it looked like they might actually go through with it.
"Enough!" Curtis barked like a disapproving older brother.
The two froze mid-charge, feet skidding slightly as the carriage hit a bump — and both promptly lost their balance, tumbling onto each other in a heap of limbs and tangled egos.
"He started it," Bryce grumbled from underneath Arthur.
"Did not," Arthur muttered.
Curtis sighed and turned to the rest of the recruits. "They're always like this. I apologize in advance."
Isabella just laughed and clapped. "That was better than most stage plays."
Curtis sighed. "These two are always a handful. I'm Curtis. Nice to meet you."
"Are they your brothers?" Isabella asked.
"Something like that," Curtis said, watching the boys squabble again. "We grew up in the same orphanage. Old habits."
He turned to Theo, Dawn, and David. "You three haven't gone yet."
David cleared his throat. "David. Nice to meet you."
"It's Dawn," she added with a nod.
"Theo," he said last, glancing down. "Nice to meet you."
From his lap, Mimi poked her head out.
Theo smiled faintly. "And this is Mimi."
She jumped from his arms and made a beeline for Isabella, who immediately scooped her up.
"Mimi! You are adorable," she cooed, rubbing her head.
"Poppy, look! Isn't she cute?"
Pop gave a quick glance, then looked away. "Yeah."
Isabella deflated slightly but set Mimi down gently. The warm mood cooled fast.
Theo hesitated, then raised his hand.
"Yes, Theo?" Isabella asked, perking up.
"I just have a question."
"Go ahead. I love questions."
"Well... back in Artimia... how were all of you able to fight like that?"
Pop didn't miss a beat. "Simple. We're not weak like you."
Theo stood, irritation flaring. "Why don't you come find out just how weak I really am?"
Pop yawned.
Then, a sudden gust of wind roared through the carriage.
Theo gasped as he was lifted clean off the floor and flung into the air.
"Theo!" Dawn shouted, reaching out.
He crashed back into the carriage a second later, groaning.
Pop, now lying casually on the roof again, stretched with a lazy smirk. "See? Not even worth my time."
"Pop! Enough!" Isabella snapped.
Theo sat up slowly, scowling. "Asshole..." he muttered.
Isabella looked back at him gently. "Don't mind him."
Theo rubbed his shoulder. "I just wanted to know how you can fight back against the Section Commander and his men."
"To answer your question," Isabella said, "we all took the first step toward becoming free."
"By choosing to fight?" Theo asked.
She shook her head. "No. Fighting back isn't enough."
She leaned in, her voice dropping. Theo's heart skipped—partially from her proximity, partially from the sudden seriousness.
She brushed her fingers against the back of his neck near the embedded microchip.
"We started by getting rid of these."
Theo's eyes widened. "You what?"
"That's impossible!" Bryce blurted. "Everyone knows you can't remove KCs without frying your brain!"
"They're permanent," Arthur added. "That's just how it is."
"That's what they want you to believe," Isabella said.
Nozomu sat at the front of the carriage, one hand loosely guiding the reins while the other rested on his knee.
The rhythmic clatter of wheels and hooves echoed across the Wastelands, but his attention was elsewhere.
His eyes lifted toward the sky.
Above them, a flock of crows soared in the distance—dark silhouettes against the early afternoon light.
There were too many to ignore. They didn't seem to be heading anywhere in particular, just circling overhead, gliding in slow, wide arcs.
It wasn't unusual to see birds this far into the plains. But it was the way they moved—like shadows following something they knew was coming—that unsettled him.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Pop," he called out without turning his head.
From above the carriage, Pop leaned over, chewing lazily on a toothpick. "Yeah?"
"Trade places with me."
Pop blinked. "Now?"
Nozomu's tone left no room for argument. "Now."
Pop sighed and dropped down effortlessly from the roof, landing beside him. "Sure thing."
In the back, Isabella looked up from chatting with the recruits. "We'll continue this later," she told the group.
Pop took the reins, but his eyes drifted upward as he noticed where Nozomu's attention had gone.
"Crows?" he muttered. "Weird time of day for them or something?"
Nozomu didn't answer. A thin stream of wind escaped his lips—barely visible to the untrained eye—and drifted up into the sky.
Pop raised an eyebrow. "Was that a Whisper?"
"Stay on course," Nozomu said calmly, ignoring Pop's question and rising into the air with the help of the wind.
Pop watched him ascend. "You know this path doesn't lead back to base, right?"
Nozomu's voice came quiet and distant, nearly lost to the rushing breeze.
"We're taking a detour."
He climbed higher, floating above the carriage now. The crows shifted slightly in the sky as if reacting to his presence before scattering.
Pop tightened his grip on the reins. "A detour, huh…"
Behind him, the others in the carriage had grown quiet. The easy banter and laughter had faded into silence.
Theo squinted up through the open top, shielding his eyes. "What's he looking at?"
David followed his gaze. "Just birds?"
Isabella looked uneasy. "Hmm, I wonder what it could be. Nozomu doesn't do things without a reason."
Far above, Nozomu hovered motionless in the sky, eyes locked on the shifting flock as they flew away from the carriage, black wings cutting through the air like blades.
He didn't speak.
He didn't move.
But his jaw was clenched tight.
And as the carriage rolled steadily down a road that no longer led home—
The wind began to shift.
Subtle.
Heavy.
Changing.
As if the world ahead had just taken a breath.
And was waiting to let it out, leaving only the rumble of wheels and the path ahead.