Chapter 4: Arisa Sakarame
Back at Sakarame or what remained of it. Angel and Aika landed on scorched, broken ground. Luis had already gathered a few soldiers, helping to prepare the bodies for burial. Others scavenged through the ruins, collecting any remaining valuables or usable supplies.
As soon as he spotted them, Luis jogged over.
"Is she okay?" he asked urgently.
"Yeah…" Angel replied quietly.
Luis let out a small sigh of relief, though it quickly faded from his face.
"Have you figured out who it was?" he asked, his tone sharpening.
Angel gave a solemn nod.
"Yeah. Bastard left one of their own behind. Manko found him."
Luis looked surprised, then turned toward a group of soldiers inspecting a charred corpse.
"Hm… that explains this guy," he muttered. "His badge is missing."
Angel pulled out the emblem Manko had given him and handed it over. Luis examined it.
A snake wrapped around a raccoon.
As the brothers discussed the intel, Aika quietly approached the body of the former commander. The soldiers around it looked her way, then respectfully stepped aside, bowing their heads. Aika stopped just a foot from the corpse, eyes locked onto what remained of the man.
Luis handed the badge back to Angel.
"So… when do we go?" he asked.
But before Angel could respond
A violent blast of light erupted.
A sharp crack echoed through the air as Aika's open palm released a brilliant white beam, engulfing the corpse entirely. The light vanished just as quickly as it appeared, her hand now closed.
There was nothing left. Not ash. Not bone.
Only a perfect, cylinder shaped hole that bored endlessly into the earth.
Aika turned toward them.
"We. Are going nowhere," she said coldly.
She walked toward the two men, who now stood in stunned silence.
"You stay here. Help bury your people," she told Angel, before turning to Luis.
"And you… go home to Yasukia."
Without another word, she turned and launched into the sky at light speed. Vanishing like a streak of vengeance through the clouds.
Luis and Angel looked at one another, both fully aware of what was coming.
"It's better this way, Luis," Angel said quietly. "They'll learn. They'll never touch our people again."
Luis shook his head, gaze dropping.
"She may be your wife, but I've seen what she does when she passes judgment. You never have."
He looked back at Angel, his voice heavy with sorrow.
"Be glad you're not there to see it. Yes, they deserve what's coming. But only the ones who planned and carried out this massacre. She's going to kill thousands of innocents in that branch."
Angel didn't flinch. No guilt. No hesitation.
"Then they should've left them alone."
He turned, walking away.
Luis called after him one last time.
"Just so you know, brother… if it were me… I would've done the same."
Angel paused for just a second.
"…Thank you," he said, then continued walking.
[[Location: Fídia Rakún 5th headquarter of the D.O.P]]
The waves were still. Silent. The stars shimmered like scars across the sky, as if the heavens themselves knew what was coming. Somewhere far beneath that silence, a force tore through the clouds above at unimaginable speed, Aika. A pale, silver light trailed behind her, stretched like a ghost's scream across the night. She moved with no sound, no expression. But the air warped gently around her, as if the very world trembled in anticipation of what she carried within.
Far below, sitting quietly in the center of the vast ocean, was the Fídia Rakún base.
Surrounded by miles of synthetic cyclones and shifting currents, it stood unshaken. Its iron towers piercing the sky, connected by illuminated skybridges and sealed domes. Inside the central dome, the mood was the complete opposite of the world above.
Laughter echoed. Glasses clinked. A full banquet hall came to life with claps and cheer. Soldiers of the D.O.P. engineers, officers, new recruits. Mingled together in polished uniforms, basking in the glow of a victory long awaited. Music hummed from hidden speakers, soft and elegant, while golden lights bathed the polished steel of the room in warmth. It was a celebration. A mission had been completed. A threat they said, had finally been "neutralized."
They toasted to survival. To bravery. To the Sakarame's fall.
But not everyone raised a glass.
Standing at the edge of the room, eyes locked on nothing in particular, was the new commander. The one who had spared Arisa. His face was quiet, unreadable. He didn't eat. He didn't drink. He simply leaned against a wall near the far end of the hall, arms crossed, gaze low, as if ashamed to be breathing the same air as the rest of them.
And seated at the highest table of the room, surrounded by admirers and officers, was a single old man. His uniform bore crests no one else wore, decorations from wars long past. His posture was calm, hands folded neatly, eyes half lidded as if listening to something none of them could hear. He smiled gently at the joy around him.
But his smile didn't reach his eyes.
He knew. Somehow, he knew. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, where the steel above them groaned ever so faintly under pressure that wasn't yet there.
"Enjoy this night," he whispered to himself, unheard beneath the music.
The celebration only grew louder.
A group of younger officers had formed a circle, tossing drinks back and reenacting moments of the mission with dramatized flair. One mimicked a Sakarame member's supposed final scream, others burst into laughter. A toast was raised to the old commander who fell in combat though no one could quite name who that was. It didn't matter. What mattered was that the clan was gone.
That the threat had ended.
The new commander remained unmoved, still leaning against the wall like a shadow that didn't belong. His eyes flicked across the room, out of detachment. Every cheer felt hollow. Every clink of glass sounded distant. He wasn't part of this. Not anymore. He could still see her, Arisa bloody, trembling, eyes burning with something far greater than hate. Something godly, Something within her.
He didn't regret what he'd done. He regretted what had been done before he got there.
At the head table, the old man closed his eyes. His breathing was slow and methodical, as if he were savoring each inhale like it might be his last. An officer to his right leaned over.
"Elder Tyūren," the man whispered, "should we prepare for the next phase?"
Tyūren opened his eyes slowly. They were deep, almost colorless, clouded with age but piercing with clarity.
"No," he said softly. "There will be no next phase for us son"
The officer blinked. "Sir?"
"Go. Enjoy your drink. Enjoy your time..maybe even call a loved one to tell them the good news"
The officer hesitated, confused, before giving a brief nod and walking away. Tyūren remained seated, but his eyes turned upward again. His gaze pierced the very heavens. His lips still, but his thoughts screaming into the silence.
She's coming.
And far above, streaking through the sky like a quiet omen, Aika kept flying.
There was no trail now. The glow around her faded to near invisibility, as if the stars had swallowed her whole. But she was still moving. Fast. Deadly. Her mind a furnace of calculation and cold memory. She could still see the mark Manko etched into the map. She had memorized it once, and once was enough.
No hesitation. No mercy. No one left to convince her otherwise.
The large storm came into view now. Wide and endless beneath her. Somewhere down there, buried underneath the storms of cyclone's, was the place.
Aika came to a dead halt, high above the sea. She hovered in stillness, staring into the chaos below. The storm writhed beneath her, monstrous and unnatural. Black clouds spun like a torn tapestry, forming a cyclonic shield around the hidden base of the Fídia Rakún. Lightning twisted through the dark sky like veins of fury, thunder cracked loud enough to rupture stone, and yet Aika remained silent, unbothered.
The wind howled viciously, yet only played with her silver hair. It flowed behind her like silk threads touched by moonlight. Her expression was empty. Cold. Her eyes, two pale windows without warmth, locked unblinking on the structure below.
Without a sound, she began descending. Not falling, but gliding effortlessly, as if the very laws of nature bowed to her presence. She drifted downward into the belly of the storm, vanishing into the black spiraling clouds.
The storm churned violently around her, gusts strong enough to rip trees from earth. Yet they parted for her, like obedient dogs. Thunder cracked beside her, lightning struck in blinding flares, but none dared touch her. She was calm. She was absolute. And she was coming.
—
Below, deep within the base of the Fídia Rakún, the celebration roared on.
Glasses clinked. Laughter echoed across the marble halls. Music played from shimmering devices suspended midair, and men and women of high rank drank to their long awaited triumph. Gold and blue banners of the D.O.P. swayed gently above the banquet. Dishes of rare delicacies lined the tables, and soldiers in dress uniform shared in the joy, unaware of the shadow now descending upon them.
Until the alarm screamed.
A deafening, metallic screech echoed through the corridors. The room was instantly drowned in red light, emergency systems flashing. Music shattered into static. Conversations died. Glass fell from trembling hands.
Panic didn't take them. These were soldiers, trained and disciplined. Weapons were retrieved in seconds, boots thundered across the steel floor, squads fell into motion. Yet a cold air ran through them, It was Something they felt.
The new commander froze. Among the flurry of activity, he stood still, his eyes drawn upward toward the ceiling above. Something wrong was coming. He didn't know what. But he felt it. A cold pressure, heavier than gravity. His instincts screamed. But he stayed calm, masking the rising fear, and shouted orders as he joined the others.
At the head of the hall, the elder rose.
He wore robes lined with shimmering threads of gold, his eyes deep with wisdom and burden. His face remained expressionless, but his soul stirred. He knew this moment. He had seen it once before. And he had never forgotten.
"Stop."
His voice was commanding, cutting through the alarm. The soldiers halted mid motion. Only the sound of klaxons and flickering red light remained.
"This is no ordinary threat," the elder said, raising his voice. "She won't attack from the shadows. She gave me her respect once… long ago. And I will return it."
He stepped forward.
"All of us, will meet her outside. And then… you will understand what we are protecting this world from"
Uneasy glances were exchanged. No one dared speak. But the weight of his words settled in.
—-
Outside, the massive training ground stretched across the open sea's edge. A flat, reinforced field of metal and stone. Slowly, thousands of soldiers filed out, rank by rank, covering the expanse in a sea of white and blue armor. Shoulder to shoulder. Spears, rifles, blades. Their faces composed… but strained.
The commander took his place at the front, jaw tight. He still didn't know what they were facing, but it couldn't be human.
Then came the elder. Slowly, solemnly, he walked past the rows of men. His steps were heavy. He stopped at the front line, lifted his chin, and gazed upward into the churning sky.
"Now witness…" he said, almost reverently. "What a god is."
In that instant the sky tore open.
The cyclones exploded outward with a scream, as if the heavens themselves were peeled back. A hurricane force blast of wind surged out in all directions, but no dust rose, no soldier was moved. The storm, was gone. In a single moment.
And in its place, the moon shone down. A blinding, celestial light beamed from above, bathing the base in brilliance. The alarm was gone. The sound was gone. The wind stilled. The only sound was their own heartbeats.
And then… her silhouette.
From the heavens, descending slowly, was a lone figure.
Drifting like a feather, blurred by the moon's rays. Her outline shimmered with an aura that bent the light itself. Some dropped their weapons. Others fell to their knees.
"It's… it's her…" a soldier whispered, eyes wide. "It's Aika…"
She landed just a few meters above the ground. Not touching it. Floating. Her silver hair moved like it was underwater. Her presence alone distorted the space around her, like the world held its breath in her presence.
She said nothing. Her gaze swept over the crowd, unreadable, emotionless but cold. Unforgiving. Her eyes locked on the elder and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.
The elder stared up at her, lips parted slightly, as a memory bled through his vision, of a young soldier once standing before this very woman, trembling.
And now, all these years later… here he stood again.
Aika's eyes narrowed.
"…Tyūren." she spoke, her voice soft but cutting, cold as frostbite. It echoed without echo, reaching every ear like it was spoken directly into their soul.
Every soldier stood still, their bodies paralyzed not by fear… but by truth. The truth of who or what stood before them.
Tyūren stood tall, but his eyes betrayed him. Shimmering with a quiet, heavy awe. His arms lifted faintly to his sides, his posture like that of a man ready to be judged. His voice, hoarse yet solemn, quivered as it left his lips.
"I… I tried, my lady. I tried to stop the D.O.P.'s damned mission," he began, his words cutting through the heavy silence like fragile glass. "They wouldn't listen. Said the Sakarame didn't count as Eniyako territory. That they were operating outside the treaty." He paused, the wind catching his cloak. "And you know what the Sakarame were really doing…. Something ungovernable. They would've become a target one way or another."
His voice lowered, nearly breaking. "Finding out your daughter was there… that only made them act faster. They didn't want another you." He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with her. An icy silver reflecting an abyss. "So the orders became clear.. Either control Arisa… or kill her."
He turned from her now, looking at the sea of soldiers before him lined up in ranks, trained, ready… but not for this.
"She was your child," Tyūren said softly. "As these men and women are mine." He gave them a final glance, a soft smile breaking across his weary face. "It's been an honor. And I'm sorry for the good ones here. You deserved to go home."
Then, louder so all could hear he said.
"But for those who took part in this, who followed orders without conscience… pray to your gods."
Silence.
Then came the chaos.
Some soldiers panicked and ran. Others dropped to their knees in grief, fear, or shame. A few brave or foolish souls screamed and charged Aika head on, weapons and powers igniting in desperation.
But she never moved. Never even blinked.
Her gaze remained on Tyūren. Cold. Ageless. Merciless.
Then, slowly, Aika raised her right hand.
Her fingers opened in a slow, deliberate motion. Like grasping the air itself.
The commander ran forward, no weapon in hand, only emotion in his voice.
"No! They don't deserve thi—"
CRACK.
He was gone in an instant. Hurled through the air at an inhuman speed, slammed across the ocean surface like a doll. An invisible force, impossibly fast, impossibly precise.
Aika never looked at him. Her hand was still open.
Then she clenched her fist.
There was no sound, no flash, no time to scream. The world bent as if space itself cried out. In an instant, the entire D.O.P. base began to twist inward. A continental mass, collapsing like a dying star, pulled into a vortex no bigger than a marble. The spiral of destruction was eerily quiet. No explosion, no debris. Just the sound of matter vanishing.
Then… silence.
Where a fortress once stood, there was nothing.
Only a titanic hole in the ocean, quickly swallowing itself as waves thundered inward. The sea collapsed upon its own wound.
And then she moved.
Aika dove into the ocean at light speed, vanishing beneath the waves.
Moments later, she emerged again. Her silver hair soaked, eyes unchanging. Clutching something in one hand.
The commander
He coughed, sputtering out seawater, eyes wide in confusion and horror. He looked around, barely breathing, barely understanding what had just happened.
"Why…" he croaked. "...just kill me" Aika didn't answer right away. She floated to a fractured piece of debris, perhaps the last remnant of what was once a base.
As gently as lifting a feather, she dropped him onto it.
"I need someone to tell the rest what happened," she said, voice emotionless, final.
The man landed with a dull thud. He struggled to sit up, body trembling, soul unraveling. She hovered above him like a divine verdict.
Her voice returned colder now, laced with dark promise.
"If the D.O.P. ever involves itself with my people again…"
Her eyes glinted.
"I will kill every human who is not from Eniyako."
She said it with no rage, no thunder. Just certainty. A truth etched into reality.
The commanders lips parted, but no sound came out. He looked around but only the vast, endless sea remained. The fortress, the army, the world he knew. Gone.
Aika looked down at him once more,
"That's the new pact…Tenshi."
She knew his name.
And with that, she ascended vanishing into the clouds like a ghost, leaving behind nothing but a legend and a ruined soul.
Tenshi sat alone, adrift in the vast blue silence. The ocean whispered around him, mourning the fallen. He clutched his soaked chest, his tears joining the sea as he wept for the thousands gone.
[[Date: Maiôs 12, 2025]]
[[Time: Morning]]
[[Location: Galínia Límni]]
The world was still.
Something had quietly, wordlessly shifted.
Far from the chaos, at the edge of the calm lake of Galínia Límni, the morning sun rose like nothing had ever gone wrong. The water shimmered in golden silence. Trees stood tall and undisturbed. Birds fluttered without fear, singing as if the sky had never known a storm.
Inside the wooden cabin, Manko sat at his workbench. Quill in hand. The pages before him stained with ink, ash, and time.
A soft rustle of fabric whispered behind him. Arisa was still asleep. Her breathing was steady now. Her expression, for once, calm.
Manko exhaled, leaning forward as the sun touched the old wood of the table. He began to write.
Manko's Letter — Entry 1
To Aika and Angel,
She's broken… but breathing.
When she first arrived, she barely spoke. Sat in silence for hours, days really. Only moved when the nightmares got too loud to sleep through. She doesn't cry, not openly. But I can tell when it hurts. Her hands clench. Her shoulders lock. Her breath grows shallow.
One night I woke to the sound of her screaming. Raw, unrestrained. I found her clawing at the curse marks on her skin, as if trying to peel the memories off. It was a bloody mess.
The wounds always heal. But she keeps trying.
She's reminded every day of that night. It's carved into her body like a cruel signature. And still, she doesn't ask for comfort. She doesn't want it.
She is strong.
Stronger than anyone her age should be allowed to be. I've seen warriors shatter from less.
She reminds me of you both… in ways that keep me up at night.
[[Date: Fevrouários 5, 2029]]
[[Time: Night]]
A fire crackled in the hearth behind Manko. Outside, rain whispered against the lake's glassy surface.
Arisa stood at the end of the dock, barefoot. The cold water licked at her bruised toes. Her fist was bloodied but clenched as she stared out over the vast black lake.
What she thought about, only she knew. Manko didn't ask.
Manko's Letter — Entry 2
She's changed.
Not that sweet girl everyone once knew. She's harder to read now. The older she gets, the more she reminds me of you, Aika. That same quiet storm behind the eyes. Sometimes, I'm almost afraid of her.
Despite that, we've grown a lot closer. I trained her myself, my old hand to hand techniques, but she passed me quickly. I say that with pride… and a sting in my chest.
Even without an awakening, her physical prowess is terrifying. She doesn't care that she hasn't awakened. So neither do I. She's enough already.
Angel… I think even you would struggle against her in a pure fight.
Oddly enough, that thought makes me feel safer than ever.
[[Date: Oktovrios 22, 2032]]
[[Time: Afternoon]]
Though she's grown, Arisa never lets her hair get longer than it was in childhood. She trims it herself, always the same length. Maybe it's her way of holding onto something.
Her eyes have grown colder. But the confusion is gone.
Now, there's clarity.
She trains longer. Sometimes with Manko. Sometimes alone. Sometimes she disappears into the woods for hours… and returns with mud on her boots and blood on her knuckles. But never a word about it.
Manko has learned not to ask.
Manko's Letter — Entry 3
She's still changing.
Maybe into who she was always meant to become.
There's something inside her. Something terrifying but it isn't rage anymore. It's purpose.
That's what truly scares me.
She stands firm. Speaks less. Thinks more. When she moves, it's with certainty. Like someone who has decided her fate, and will carve it herself if she must.
She vanishes now. Without warning. Sometimes for days. I hate it, but she always returns. And when she does, she brings things.
Books. Crates. Scrolls. Carts full of knowledge no girl her age should be able to access. Some of them are top secret. Guarded documents. D.O.P level clearance.
Yet here they are. In my home. Our home.
I've stopped asking questions.
She converted my old underground lab into a library. Her idea, of course. I couldn't say no. She has a hunger for knowledge that borders on divine. And I get it now… knowledge is her weapon.
These days, I work less. I drink more. Tend to my garden. And somehow, I think she's taking care of me now.
Strange how things turn out.
[[Date: Lounios 10th, 2035]]
[[Time: Morning]]
Despite the passing years, Manko's cabin remained unchanged. The walls, once bare and quiet, now bore dozens of photographs and snapshots of Arisa. Each one charting her growth, her scars, and her silence. In some she looked lost, in others composed… and in a rare few, she smiled.
Arisa stood by the small kitchen counter, her figure illuminated by slanting beams of sunlight cutting through the open window. She quietly rinsed two glass cups with the same focus one might give to a weapon. Her hands were steady, her movements slow but exact. Manko, seated in his writing chair, stared at the crumpled mess of failed letters by his feet. Ink stained fingers hovered over the page again.
Then the familiar sound of approaching footsteps.
Arisa walked over with two cups of sake. Her voice was deeper now. Calm, low, and commanding. But carried the unmistakable sharpness of Angel's tone mixed with the haunting elegance of Aika's.
"Come on, old man," she said, setting the cup beside him. "You can finish that letter later. I won't be here much longer."
She plucked the pencil gently from his grip and placed it near the edge of the table.
Manko let out a light sigh before raising his drink. "To my freedom," he said, a glint of bittersweet pride in his eyes.
Their glasses tapped with a clean clink. Arisa took her shot in a single motion, wincing just slightly. Manko, like a seasoned drunk, tossed his back like water and groaned with satisfaction.
Arisa had her mother's striking grace, but Angel's rebellious beauty. Her eyes, purple and sharp, held galaxies of pain and knowledge. The hair was still shoulder length, trimming it was her last act of holding onto the girl she once was.
The silence between them felt full. Everything that needed to be said had been said in the quiet rituals of their years together. The meals. The letters. The training. The nights she didn't sleep.
Then.
A low, resonant horn shattered the stillness, rolling through the trees and across the lake like the groan of a giant beast. Wildlife scattered. Birds took off in a frenzy, a warning written in wings.
Arisa's head snapped toward the door. Her expression didn't change, but her body tensed like a bowstring.
"It's them," she said. Her voice lost its warmth, only the mission remained.
She turned to Manko, half smiling. "Don't get all emotional now."
Manko let out a soft grunt, standing. "No promises," he said, moving to help her gather the bags by the door.
Arisa moved quickly, strapping on her gear with familiar ease. The bags were light, meticulously packed. A black sheath clicked into place across her back. Books were left neatly on the shelves, like she'd be back but they both knew she might not.
The horn blared again closer now.
Manko walked with her to the edge of the dock, just like he did when she first arrived all those years ago. She stepped forward, wind blowing through her hair as if the world was trying to pull her back one last time.
Off in the distance, a massive D.O.P. ship emerged from the horizon, its silhouette hauntingly familiar. The same class of warship that once raided Sakarame, but this time, only one…and this one flew a different tone. Its movement was deliberate, almost ceremonial. Lined up at the front deck were several D.O.P. officers, standing in full uniform, as if ready to greet a dignitary.
Arisa stood at the edge of the dock, silent. The rising hum of the approaching vessel stirred a breeze across the lake, rippling the water and making the trees whisper. Behind her, Manko set down the last of her packed belongings, then looked up at her.
"You know…" he started, voice low with thought, "I never once asked, even after you told me you were joining the D.O.P… But since we're here… it surprised me you made this choice. So why?"
Arisa didn't turn to face him. Her eyes remained on the approaching shadow.
"I want to make sure what happened to me and my family never happens to another child," she said coldly. "Even if I have to work my way from the inside out."
Manko blinked, slightly taken aback by her response. "Then why reveal yourself? Why let the world know who you are… so early?" he asked, his voice suddenly heavy with concern.
The ship loomed closer now, casting a massive shadow over the dock. It towered above them, a floating monolith of cold, weaponized power.
"I want them to know who I am," Arisa answered without flinching. Her voice didn't carry anger it carried certainty.
Manko sighed through his nose. He knew that tone. There was no changing her mind.
A voice suddenly called out from the ship. "Well, well, well… look who it is."
A tall man stood at the edge of the upper deck, leaning casually against the rail with his muscular arms folded. He wore a crisp white uniform with a matching cap pulled low, barely revealing his eyes. Stamped in bold blue letters across the front of his hat: COMMANDER.
"Didn't think the X-ruler himself would settle down and raise a kid," the man said with a grin.
Arisa's eyes narrowed. She didn't respond.
"No matter how hard I try to avoid you bastards," Manko muttered, "the D.O.P. always finds its way back."
The commander let out a small chuckle. "Avoid us? You're funny. You're woven into our history Manko, like it or not. Even in retirement… we still own you."
The nearby soldiers chuckled. Arisa's eyes turned razor sharp.
"You don't own anyone," she cut in, her voice slicing through the tension like a blade.
The commander's grin faltered for a split second as her gaze locked with his. Her violet eyes didn't just glare. They bore into his soul. He held her stare, but only barely.
Manko stepped forward, speaking casually too casually. "You came for her, not me. But I'd suggest leaving quickly… see, my daughter here gets impatient way too easily."
The commander huffed, trying to shake off the discomfort. "What, you think I'm scared of some girl who hasn't even awakened yet?" he said, brushing her off with bravado. Then, as if remembering something, he straightened up. "Still… she's been selected for the program. So I'll hold off… for now."
With a mechanical groan, a hatch on the side of the ship opened. Metal stairs extended down into the dock with a hiss of steam. D.O.P. soldiers in neatly formed rows descended and began collecting Arisa's luggage and the items by Manko's side.
Arisa turned toward Manko and stepped forward, wrapping him in an embrace. Her arms were stronger now, firmer. But the warmth was still there.
"I love you, Dad," she said softly. "Once I'm settled… I'll come back to see you again."
The words pierced through Manko's old heart. He held her a little tighter, but kept his voice steady.
"Don't worry about me, Arisa. You go. Don't look back. Whatever life you choose…" He cupped her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "I'll always be right here, supporting you."
Before he could say more, the commander called from above. "I'm all for teary goodbyes, but we're short on time, girl."
Manko smiled at her and let go. Arisa gave a small smirk in return half sarcastic, half emotional. She turned and began to ascend the steps slowly. Each step felt like a beat in a song she wasn't sure she wanted to finish.
The stairs retracted behind her with a slow mechanical hum. When she reached the top deck, she stopped right beside the commander, and turned just her head to him.
At that moment, he realized… She was his height. Maybe taller.
"That'll be the last time you order me," she said coldly, not even looking him full in the face. "I'm not one of your soldiers."
And with that, she walked past him.
The commander didn't respond. For once, he had no comeback. The surrounding soldiers exchanged surprised glances.
He turned back toward Manko as the ship began its slow rotation away from the dock.
"You sure she's your daughter, Manko?" the commander asked, his tone more curious than mocking now. "Something about her… feels different."
Manko chuckled and turned away without answering, heading back toward his cabin.
"Enjoy your retirement old man," the commander called out one last time.
But Manko didn't stop. He walked slowly, silently, disappearing back into the trees. His cabin already calling him home again.
Manko stepped back in. The silence hit like a wave. No more footsteps behind him. No faint hum of Arisa cleaning dishes. No soft teasing voice reminding him of his age. The quiet was loud now, unforgiving. He stood still in the doorway for a long moment, letting the emptiness settle around him like a heavy coat.
Eventually, he moved to the counter, pouring himself another drink with a trembling hand. The glass clinked against the bottle's rim. He didn't bother wiping the tear that escaped down his cheek.
He sat at his old wooden desk. The one with crumpled papers scattered around it. Finally he put pen to paper.
Manko's Letter Entry — 4
I didn't think writing this one would be hard.
But here I am.. six drafts in, and I still can't find the right words.
Maybe now that she's gone… I'm finally allowing myself to feel it.
She's only eighteen. And already she carries herself like she's seen lifetimes. You wouldn't believe this unless you saw it with your own eyes, Angel. Aika…. Not only is she the youngest ever chosen as a candidate for The C.F.R she's the only one without an awakening. And still… She passed every physical and mental test with record breaking margins. No shortcuts.
She earned it. All of it.
I guess I'm rambling now. Maybe that's just pride talking. Or maybe I want you both to know something I couldn't admit until now.
Thank you.
Thank you for giving her to me. For trusting me with her life. I spent so long believing you should've come back for her, taken her home. But the truth is…
She became my daughter. And I became a better man because of her.
This will be my last letter to you.
Because the next time you see her, it won't be through my words…
It'll be when she finds you herself. And I know she will.
– Manko
—-
A suffocating stillness loomed over the D.O.P. ship.
Dozens of soldiers were posted, yet no one dared speak. Their eyes all subtly pulled in one direction. Toward the girl standing alone at the deck's edge.
Arisa.
She stared out across the vast ocean, her back to them. Still. Focused.
The commander approached slowly, deliberately quiet. But before he even reached halfway, she turned.
Effortlessly. Calmly.
Her hands were folded behind her back, posture composed. That calm, however, wasn't reassuring it was unnerving.
She wore a tight black shirt beneath an open biker style jacket, its linings catching flickers of the low sun. The sleeves were rolled back past her elbows, revealing dark, cursed markings snaking across both arms, alive with quiet menace. Her black jeans melded seamlessly into angular, combat styled shoes.
She was still young. But her presence made seasoned D.O.P. soldiers shift uncomfortably.
The commander narrowed his eyes.
"You know," he started, voice low, "I've read over your file a dozen times. But the truth is… there's nothing there. We were ordered to retrieve you from this exact location, and all we have is your field scores. No name. No background. No record of existence, outside of what we saw you do."
He took a step forward, studying her more closely.
"You're the only one out of the twelve candidates with nothing tying you to the outside world. You're not Manko's blood. And from the looks of it, even the higher ups are trying to hide what you are. That doesn't sit right with me. So…"
He paused. The wind carried a sudden quiet.
"Who are you really?"
Silence.
Arisa's violet eyes locked onto his. Cold.
Dead calm. And somehow, deeply familiar.
"…My name is," she said softly, but firmly.
"…Arisa."
A ripple passed through the ship. Soldiers who had overheard subtly turned. The name alone was enough to trigger recognition, whispers of old rumors, forgotten stories, sealed files.
But Arisa didn't stop.
"…Arisa Sakarame."
There it was. A name once buried under tragedy. A name some believed had vanished. A name tied to power, blood, and pain.
Now reborn in flesh.
The commander stared at her. For a second, something in his chest tightened. Not fear but awareness. He was standing before someone far greater than her age or file could ever reveal.
And Arisa? She didn't blink.
Chapter 4: Arisa Sakarame
END