Nonsense.

   Flask would never think of himself while he was on a mission for the Zakuya; he would not think of himself-for himself- while he stood in their ranks. He would- could not. Because, he was a part of them, and the only thing he could do was what they told him to. An arm or leg of the body cannot want something for itself. The flask does not decide what is put in it.

   Complete sense.

   Flask had fallen short of the ideal. They all had forgotten- denied, that Flask was, in the end, inevitably, as much as they did not want to admit it, human. Flask was capable of greed. Gon was the only one who saw Flask as a human, and that was why he could come to the correct conclusion.

   Shichi remained silent.

   "That makes sense!" Crimson exclaimed, "Great job, Gon!"

   "I'm not quite sure who you are, but you've helped us an awful lot," Cheril thanked him, "Now we've ruled out a number of possibilities."

   Kurapika finally spoke after taking all the notes into account, "Then there are two major likelihoods. The first being the Breath of Archangel is needed to heal a member from the effects of the Poor Man's Rose. The second being the Double Postcard to the Dead is needed to speak to a member that has died or will die."

   "'Has died'?" Killua echoed skeptically, "Isn't this supposed to be related to the Poor Man's Rose?"

   Rukei caught on to what Kurapika hinted at first, "Using the Poor Man's Rose is extreme even for the Zakuya. It's likely that the Poor Man's Rose is a last resort; maybe they wanted Double Postcard to the Dead to discuss it with a deceased member?"

   "I'm guessing it must have been recent then," Crimson muttered, "We've been trying to get inside eyes looking at the Zakuya, but it's proven to be near impossible. We don't know if any influential agents have died recently."

   "Do they really need to talk about it with someone else?" Glass put in skeptically, with a short glance towards the dark-haired teen before continuing, "They would just take it up with him if they needed an opinion. I can't imagine anyone more intelligent than Solriss."

   "Good point," Noriko relented; her voice betrayed strong hesitance. Gon and Killua both remembered what Rukei told them about Solriss. Rukei seemed afraid of him, but it seemed to be a bit different for everyone else. Crimson gave Glass furrowed brows and a subtle nudge. But Glass hardly looked repentant for breaking the taboo; his eyes leveled with a professional apathy. Work is work.

   Shichi crossed her legs and leaned back. "Okay," she started dryly; Shichi was not an exception to Glass' rule, "Sure. Double Postcard to the Dead doesn't make sense. So it's more likely for them to want Breath of Archangel."

   "We should not eliminate Double Postcard to the Dead," Kurapika advised, and no one was going to correct him.

   "Yeah, there's still the first possibility where they have to talk to someone caught up in the explosion." The bespectacled man reminded. Leorio was pretty confident that he was allowed to speak; both of the boys had blatantly broken the rule twice, and if they were going to let two thirteen-year olds give them advice about the most destructive bomb to exist and how criminal organizations operate, then a guy studying to be a doctor probably would not be chewed out for saying his opinion.

   When Shichi turned her head to look back at Leorio when he talked, one of the only polite habits that Shichi owned, her gaze caught on Rukei who was currently trying to wipe off her blood onto her leggings when everyone was focused on the intern doctor.

   Her mouth twisted into a frown, not because of Rukei's dumb habits, though that did annoy her to a point, but because of the suffocating frustration seeing that the Zakuya knew everything that was going on and they didn't.

   "We're in trouble," Shichi breathed out while holding her fingers against the pressure points by her eyes.

   "Shichi," Crimson called, the way a teacher would when a student made an unnecessary remark, "We already know that."

   "More trouble than you think," the woman clarified turning back towards the computer's speakers to make sure everyone else on the call heard her the first time, "I mean, unless you find it convenient to have the Zakuya making a fuss in Jianghai while we have all their test subjects here."

   A chorus of short profanities echoed from one person to another as the weight of their situation had been increased exponentially once again.

   Rukei became acutely aware of everyone's stare; if the others were not just present virtually, she was sure she would have been burned through.

   Cheril's suggestion came first. "Should we remove them from the city?"

   The way he worded it grated Shichi's nerves- Shichi hoped that Cheril said that sentence with the intention to sound professional. For his own good.

   "No," a new voice broke through; silence was a part of the owner's nature. Her name was Wren, one of the former and very high-ranked members of the Zakuya, "We want to know where they are. The Zakuya seems to know everything we do. We need to at least be aware of the actions of our own."

   Glass finalized the conversation when nobody objected Wren's suggestion. "Then we'll need to keep a close watch on everyone. Once Jen and Yona arrive, we'll have them stay within the Alliance premises. Rukei should be fine with us. Noriko, if you could get a hold of Marron and have him follow suite, that would be helpful. Shichi, you research the Poor Man's Rose."

   "What?" The woman blurted, snapping her head over to the older man, "Since when did I do that kind desk research?"

   "Since you blew up the hall," the blonde replied, flintily holding up his hand before Shichi could plead, rather, yell her case, "So, you didn't know that Wick had the Poor Man's Rose on him, and frankly, I don't care."

   For those who had only known Shichi for a short while, they expected the woman to give some sort of snarky sneer as a reply but instead, she listened quietly, attentively, and- by the way her eyes dropped- with a hint of shame.

   "It should have occurred to you that Wick had some sort of chemical on him. It obviously wasn't safe to create an explosion," Glass resumed severely; the reaction he received was far different from what his co-workers had received earlier from the rough woman, who now appeared quite far from 'rough', "You should have just suffocated him or taken advantage of his limited mobility instead. Why are you always acting so arrogant if you can't figure out something as simple as this?"

   It had become incredibly awkward for everyone. Shichi did not have an answer, so she could not respond, but it felt extremely wrong for anyone else to break the silence. Crimson's concerned grayish eyes and the way she bit the inside of her cheek told Glass that he went far enough; he sighed and turned back towards the speakers.

   "In any case, we will contact you all tomorrow. Good night, everyone."

-

   All the lights in the apartment were turned off; the children had been ushered to bed. They took up Shichi's bunk since it was clear that the woman wasn't going to be resting that night. Crimson convinced Leorio to stay with them because the redhead did not feel comfortable that an intern for one of the Alliance members would stay in a hotel, possibly one that would blow up- take for example, the one Shichi detonated.

   As for Kurapika...

   The blue light of the computer illuminated the face of the woman to somehow look darker; perhaps it made the droop of her eyes more prominent or the expression of her face to look even more worn than it already had.

   The light of the screen also hit her wrist so that one could see the abrupt lines where Shichi had washed the sticky ash off her hands and stopped at her arms. It became more obvious when she pulled both of her hands to the keyboard to search for a new article.

   The articles were written in characters, most of which all seemed the same at first glance, but when one had to read it, they could notice the varying differences, wether it be an extra line, or some sort of box underneath the strokes, but it was difficult to distinguish certain words. At least to a foreigner.

   "I can look over the articles that are in Hunter."

   Shichi looked up from the computer screen quickly out of her only good habit, before looking back down. She hadn't forgotten- neither had forgotten the words they exchanged after the explosion. "It's fine," she replied monotonously. The mechanical sound of the words was not to be mistaken with Rukei's unvarying tone.

   Rukei's voice was hardly cold, simply a little bland and quiet. The quality of her voice used to be quiet like a machine working efficiently without loud clatter. But Kurapika had noticed since they reunited, rather than quiet, now it seemed more appropriate to call her voice soft.

   Shichi's voice was different. The sharp way she ended her sentence and the frigid shortness of it gave off serious 'don't talk to me' vibes.

   A part of Kurapika found the situation humorous. How ironic. Just a year ago, it was Shichi bothering him with her unasked for, pretentious knowledge. Yet despite the evident swap in positions, Shichi had hardly changed.

   Kurapika believed he had. The blonde had become notably stoic, sterner, professional. "Let me make myself clear. I am not doing this out of a sense of pity or for your sake. I am the one who proposed the idea, so I must take partial responsibility."

   "So for your own sake?" Shichi summarized, scrolling through a page of what she deemed useless by the way she clicked her tongue. Or maybe it was out of her annoyance towards the man. "All the more reason not to let you."

   He had expected this reaction from her, and so he had prepared. "I will look over the articles that are in Hunter," Kurapika rephrased, carefully annunciating each word as if he were speaking with a child, "If you choose to waste your time perusing documents that have already been inspected, then that will be your loss."

   The woman stopped scrolling through for a moment, before deeply exhaling through her nose and closing the laptop. She shoved the device into his hands with a mutter, "You offered help. Get ready to be worked to the bone." 

   It was barely able to be picked up, but he wore the slightest, single-sided smile of amusement that was barely caught under the device's light. Really, just a year ago... He wondered if the woman had noticed.

   She seemed too busy with plugging in an older computer to one of the outlets to think about it- or perhaps too busy with her pride to admit it.

   They worked quietly; only every once in a while would one of them speak and note something that may have any importance, like which countries maintained the hold of the bombs more carefully. That would be in one of Kurapika's articles that he found on the Hunter's website. Shichi would find more specifics regarding Shugo and their policies.

   "Wow, another one," came the light scoff from the woman.

   The blonde looked up curiously; it was not the same as her grumbles when she found a useless report. "What is it?"

   She slumped over to rest her chin on one hand, "No, it's just the guy who made the Poor Man's Rose apparently came from Meteor City. It's like everyone is from that garbage dump."

   The only people he was aware that she 'knew' that was from the said 'dump' was the Phantom Troupe. But she had grown up in a criminal organization; it should not have been surprising.

   Just as he was about to drop the subject, the thought crossed his mind. Rukei's knuckles turned white when they discussed it a long time ago... Was she perhaps? "Is Rukei from Meteor City?"

   Shichi's face contorted with a bewilderment; it told him he said something ridiculous, "What? No. Rukei was born in this country. Some tiny division on the edge of Shugo."

   Now that he thought back, the girl did say that her first five years of life should have been relatively normal- though he knew that her definition of 'normal' varied. Then he assumed that the 'everyone' Shichi referred to were just the simple colleagues that she 'stood by in the assembly'-

   "But Glass is from Meteor City."

   Kurapika looked back up, for a second he his brow knitted with a surprised puzzlement and disbelief, "Glass?"

   It suddenly made sense. Despite his charismatic and dignified air, and his almost police like appearance with his blue jacket and slacks, it made sense. From his name, to the way he cautiously and noiselessly moved from one place to another.

   Shichi drew her eyes back to the computer, "Yeah. He's learned to walk like a mouse from there. Same thing with Wren and Marron. And Yona. And... Well, basically, I know a lot Meteor City residents."

   "What really happened three years ago?"

   Tap. Tap, tap, tap- It was a short, hardly noticeable pause that the woman knew she couldn't cover up as she continued to type into the search bar. "I told you already. I killed the guy who killed Wistle."

   Kurapika would not relent, keeping his gaze, cold enough to burn, on her. He wanted to know what she thought he did not. "You described life as something as 'unimportant as what you ate for breakfast'. I find it hard to believe that you would regret killing a single person that much."

  The cold, blue glow illuminated her spiteful sneer as she looked a little to the side. He finally managed to get her to maintain eye contact with him in a conversation. "You've gotten really good at crossing the line, haven't you?"

   The blonde could hardly believe he heard those words from her mouth. "Were you not the same?"

   Shichi at first seemed confused, but broke into a snide, choppy cackle after studying him closely enough. "Alright," the woman gave up, "What do you think happened? A, I hurt and abandoned Rukei. B, I betrayed the people who needed me the most. C, my comrades died because of me."

   Kurapika did not give an audible reply, but it was obvious by the look on his face that he knew the answer.

   "The answer is," the scornful smile disappeared completely, "all of the above."

   When he looked at her, he was sure. He was not going to end up like her, he was not going to make the same mistakes she did. He was not going to be the one with that scornful grin, he was not going to take on the same exhausted eyes.

   A very small voice told him that he already had.

   "I was serious when I said you had to become a monster," Shichi reminded him, but surrendered to him a wry smile and a point, "I kinda knew that you already knew. You have to give up everything."

   Shichi was correct. Kurapika knew what he was doing. He knew at the end of all this, there was not a family nor a home waiting.

   He must give up everything. He had given up his pride, he had compromised his morals in every manner, he had dedicated his very life force, his Nen, to chase them down to the ends of the earth and chain them down to hell.

  "Do you really understand what 'everything' means?"

   What was she saying? He understood better than anyone else because he had given it all.

   "You don't," Shichi stated firmly before tilting her head back and rethinking her words, "No, you do. You do know. We were just thrown into that situation a year ago," she echoed cryptically.

   Kurapika could not take anymore of the woman's ramblings any longer; it was like trying to read words in a stone that had already been stolen away by wind and rain. "What do you mean?"

   "I mean... You know that 'everything' isn't limited to just your life, right?"

-

   Shichi's memories of that night were heavily skewed. Some were so clear that Shichi would jolt to a stand in a cold sweat when she thought about them. She could still feel the fire licking at her shoulders with its searing tongue, and when she touched the scar over her stomach, she flinched as her own hand became as cold and sharp as Moon's crescent shaped blade. Vividly, lucidly, so very alive in her mind was Wistle's lifeless smile-

   And yet, some were so obscure that she could hardly believe that it happened. Sometimes, she only remembered a blurry face or a couple words in a undulating fog of rage and grief. The feeling was similar as one was trying keep one's head over water only to be dragged under over and over again.

   Her breaking Rukei's ribs were part of the latter.

   She sort of remembered Rukei grabbing onto her. At that time, it had only registered in Shichi's mind that some sort of weight was holding her down- holding her back, stopping her from killing the man she needed to kill, eliminate it, her mind told her- so Shichi pushed Rukei back. When the weight returned, Shichi had flung it from the direction it came. In a storm of anger, Shichi could barely hear the sharp snap of the body hitting the corner of a wall.

   It had not crossed her mind- at this point, her mind was gone- of the mission she was supposed to complete. She was to accompany two of her colleagues to eliminate the council. They would not be strong enough on their own, and yet they died trying- died believing that Shichi would come.

   As a result, the council could call for help and other members of the rebellion suffered injuries and death. And while all this had happened, while she had caused all of this, what was Shichi doing?

   Shichi was being carried out by a little girl with cracked bones. Shichi had no idea what Rukei felt at that time. It was among the more, if not the most, ambiguous memory she had. Shichi was pretty sure she lost consciousness at some point, regained it, lost it again, and came to once more.

   But Shichi was sure that Rukei was scared- scared out of her mind- or maybe Rukei had lost it too. Who in their right mind would fight through that hellish conflagration and shoulder their way through the debris for a traitor?

-

   "An idiot," Shichi huffed with a vague smile.

   "What?"

   The reply was a little late and hesitant, but surprised her nonetheless. His words were very quiet, and the way the end of his voice seemed to disappear made it sound more like a statement than a question.

   Shichi turned to look at him, and only then it became obvious that he had become a lot more expressionless; it surprised her to see the way he unconsciously leaned forward and the disbelief in his countenance. There was something beside that, but she could not read it.

   "No," the woman spoke after a brief silence, "Not you."

   Kurapika was unmoved by her reply.

   Shichi sighed and slammed the back of her head against the wall behind her, "I'm not going to preach to you anymore. It's not like you're my little sibling or anything. Heck, we're not even comrades. And even then, comrades don't even..."

   He could connect her unfinished sentence to the ones she told him back a year ago after he killed Uvogin, about the values that her parents drilled into her as a child. Comrades were those that stood next to her in the assembly. Wether they lived or died the next day, there was no celebration or mourning.

   "...rry."

   Shichi was a mess, Kurapika concluded. One moment she would laugh tiredly to herself, the next she would scoff, and now she sounded just barely... Regretful? Apologetic?

   "Sorry," Shichi repeated louder once she saw the slightly puzzled look on the man's face, "For sitting in a soapbox and giving you these stupid lectures. Glass was seriously right," Shichi breathed out the last few words as she glanced back down at the screen, hardly audible, "What am I doing?"

   "Rukei...," the boy started. For some reason, Shichi was not bothered by the continuation of the discussion. "Rukei has become much more expressive."

   "Yeah," she agreed, "I'm glad. You guys must have had a really strong effect on her."

   "Gon and Killua tend to make an impression on everyone," Kurapika remarked, dropping his eyes back onto the computer.

   "You too?" Shichi smirked when she realized how subtly Kurapika was insulting Leorio by taking him out of the equation completely. But she was sure by that youthful, boyish look on Leorio's face when he talked about his friends that he was just as important to Rukei, and perhaps, this stoic blonde.

   Kurapika took a moment to reply. Shichi could have sworn that he smiled for a second. "Yes."

   "You sorta reminded me of her."

   It was an offhanded comment- Shichi was too tired to take it back or try to fix it; part of Kurapika suspected that the woman had not even registered what she said. But Kurapika did not correct the woman. Instead, the begrudging, one-sided smile resurfaced. How ironic. "As do you."

   They weren't sure why the two of them were both reminded of the same girl. Perhaps it was because the two of them both longed for her presence, felt undeserving of it, and unconsciously tried to see it in another.

-

  "Do you ever have a dream where you're falling, but you wake up before you hit the ground?"

  What?

   Shichi stared at the younger girl incredulously, incredulously enough to make the girl feel stupid. Her cheeks turned a light pink and she dismissed her question with a 'never mind'.

   "They say those who are troubled by anxiety and fear of losing control have those sort of dreams," Glass broke into the conversation, calmly picking up one of the energy drink cans littering the floor, particularly around the desk that Shichi worked at. Another one currently sat in the woman's left hand as her right was occupied by a cup of coffee.

   "Scared of something, Rukei?" Killua questioned. Rukei huffed indignantly in response.

   Leorio set a hand on the girl's head, much to her annoyance- she just fixed it! With a brush at that. It felt like she hadn't used one of those in ages. She had always been getting the knots out with her fingers while she was in Greed Island, and oftentimes it'd end up looking worse then before Rukei tried to comb it, as 'short hair' did not always equate to 'easy maintenance'. "You don't have to worry about the Zakuya. Just take a look at all the Hunters around you!"

   "I know," she replied, "I wasn't worried."

   The redhead humored the younger's lie despite the proof of all the marks on her palms. "We know you weren't, Rukei."

   Crimson continued on a friendly conversation while fixing the strap of the sheaves underneath the red garment all the while. The subject had turned from Rukei's common dream, though uncommon to herself, to the rustic who had apparently had an extremely random dream of his own consisting of diabolos and Wil.

   Shichi gave her gun a quick check before putting it into the case and shutting the lid. Snapping back the clasps, she slung it around her shoulder and explained to Glass some possibly significant things they found last night. Like how Aos Langes and Shikago held a special little place of their own for the bombs, and yet the Zakuya did not target those while they were in that city.

   "For an organization that operates like the Zakuya, we found the possibility improbable, but we do believe it should be taken into consideration," Kurapika brought up while taking the drink can from Shichi before she could pour it into her coffee, "Aside from destructive or intimidation purposes, the Zakuya might be trying to imply some sort message."

   "A declaration of war," Shichi added, too tired to make a move to take it back, "Of sorts. Honestly, I'm not feeling too confident about it either."

   "'Of sorts'? You are right, it's improbable," Glass repeated with a slight trace of amusement, "But we will take it into consideration. Thanks for your help, Kurapika. Sorry for holding you back from your own plans. If we can help with anything, let us know."

   The last sentence was more of just a formality than anything; they didn't really expect the blonde to take up the offer. It was very clear that the man wanted to do this on his own.

   "I need someone who speaks Shugonese to accompany me to the Yuinan District."

   Or not?

   "I can help," Rukei offered immediately, having overheard the conversation. Rukei had often been to Yuinan, a small area of Jianghai where Hunter was rarely spoken and hardly heard, to fetch things from their markets or something of the sort.

   Gon brightened up at the notion of visiting a new place, "That sounds fun! Let's all go together."

   "Sorry, but I have a job because I'm an adult," Leorio announced, straightening the yellow tie while glancing down at them, "Anyways, don't you have to go to Dr. Galen, too?"

   Rukei apologized to the blonde with a disappointment weighing down her tone. Crestfallen Gon received a half-encouraging, half-joking pat on the shoulder from the white haired boy beside him.

   "I would send Shichi or Glass with you. Or myself," Crimson stated, "But we have a couple arrangements with the Alliance. I'll try to find a translator to accompany you, but it might take a little bit. Would that be alright?"

   The blonde agreed to the terms, asking that the translator be sent to Yuinan as the man declared that he would be going ahead. What business he had there, they had no idea, but they seemed to have no intentions of asking.

   The entire walk to headquarters had become exceedingly gloomy; the bright, endlessly curious Gon seemed to be out of spirits and focused his eyes on the ground instead of the remarkable world around him, that always seemed to look scores brighter when he would excitedly point it out.

   Rukei was in a similar state, though slightly less obvious, but the manner she stiffly walked with her hands behind her back. It was unusual because Rukei had just recently started to walk in an easier manner, and on very rare occasion, would stand with her hands at her sides without being reminded. She usually reverted when she was nervous.

   "Don't be so down about it," Killua put in with an awkward sort of nudge towards the one closest, in this case the brunette.

   To his surprise- the boy sort of expected a monotonous and annoyed 'I'm not down about it' from her- Rukei glanced towards him, "He won't disappear again, right?"

   "Disappear?" Leorio echoed with a short chuckle, "What, is he a magician now?"

   "No, I mean like how Shichi-oneesan does whenever she finishes her job," Rukei clarified with a pointed look towards the dark haired woman, who gave the younger a guilty grin.

   Killua pointed out an important factor, matter-a-factly holding his hand in the air, "But he hasn't finished his job."

   "So Kurapika will stick around?" Gon chirped hopefully.

   "Yeah! So cheer up!" Leorio yelled, setting a hand on each of the two's shoulders. Gon began to beam again and Rukei gave the older man a small smile, appreciating his words. The doctor quickly switched subjects before anyone could start questioning the bold claims they had made, "Anyways, haven't you drunken too many of those?"

   Shichi glanced up from the beverage in her hand, startled from being called out, "What?"

   "That's like your tenth can!"

   "Eighth," Shichi corrected, before taking a long sip just to annoy him.

   Rukei could have sworn she saw Leorio angrily blow out steam from his nose at the woman's counter. "Big difference! Drinking that much could cause tons of health problems, it'll actually give you more headaches than help you-"

   Shichi cut him off, vexed, "Y'know, your yapping is starting to give me a headache."

   "You ungrateful little-! I'm trying to help you!"

   "Shichi-oneesan, he's a doctor, you should listen to him."

   "Oh yeah, he's a doctor alright," the woman snorted, "The Doctor Galen Mark II. Didn't fix the grumpy or old feature though."

   "Well, at least my shoes don't look like some kind of torture device."

-

   When there are crowds, there is always bound to be a handful that stands out a little from the rest. Sometimes it is for the better, sometimes it is for the worse.

   The packed subway platform was no different. For example, the girl obnoxiously talking on the phone in a loud voice or the boy with a black eye; the latter had probably just been beaten up by schoolmates or the like. But they were the type of people that when someone looked at them, the passerby would pretend they had not looked at all, as they wanted to be polite or wanted to avoid a problem.

   And then there were people, like the man who stood looking down at his hands, who always pulled eyes back to them no matter how many times others would look away.

   He was neither too tall, nor too short and from the front, he appeared neatly and professionally groomed. But his hair stood up in the back in untamable tuffs and cowlicks, and since he stood near the front of the crowd, it was obvious to nearly all. Perhaps it was the white coat that drew curious gazes or maybe it was the cube that he played with in his hands.

   It was newly bought, the bright colors stood out from among the business men and women dressed in grays and browns, probably just taken from a souvenir shop on a whim. He was studying the toy intensely, as if it were some sort of bubbling chemical, and the white lab coat did not minimize the image.

   Some watchers brushed it off; anyone would analyze a puzzle they wanted to solve. But if they watched for a little longer, a selected few might note that it wasn't that he did not know how to solve the cube. The man knew very well.

   The small girl standing next to him with her hair pulled back into a little ponytail took notice. He solved it, mixed it up, and restored it once more, but he hardly looked satisfied. She stood on her tiptoes- maybe if she could look at it from a different angle, she would understand why.

   The rush of the train coming through the tunnel caught her attention next, and she stepped closer to the tracks excitedly to watch it come in. No one warned her to stand behind the yellow line- her mother was not watching and everyone else found it too normal to care.

   While inching forward to get a better look, the girl stepped on her loose shoelace and she lost her balance. She shrieked and looked for something to grab onto, pulled back just in time by the previous man.

   The girl was still in something similar to a shock for a few seconds while her mother apologized and thanked the man profusely. The girl recovered quickly and thanked him as his mother scolded, chided, and forced the little girl to thank him too. When she grasped what happened, she did so earnestly.

   "Thank you, oniisan!"

   The man probably would have crouched down to eye level with the girl, but there wasn't enough room on the platform to do so, so he settled with leaning down a bit. They were so similar... both her and this little girl with her ponytail and loose laces...

   "Remember to tie your shoelaces."

。。。

Please check out new, redone art in chapters 'Not X Yet' and 'Fighter's Debut'! I've also added art to 'Fallen X Icarus' (originally Like X an X Angel). In the media is a depiction of Solriss!

Important note! I know I initially described Marron as a 'dark-haired boy' but after I actually put his design together with the other experiments, I changed his appearance a little. I'll try to go back and fix up the discrepancies. I'm lucky I didn't introduce Yona yet; her first plan was scrapped entirely.

Feedback on the pacing of this 'arc'? (I guess that's what we can call it?) I'd love to hear any thoughts, criticism etc. Sorry for this delayed update, and thank you very much for reading!