Outpost 34 came back into view.
The dropships settled onto the landing pads in staggered sequence, engines howling before winding down into a low, metallic hum. Floodlights snapped on as troops disembarked, med teams moving fast, voices clipped and efficient as stretchers were unloaded and equipment hauled back into place. The air smelled of fuel and antiseptic — a familiar mix.
Normalcy returned in pieces. The sun had begun its slow ascent.
Generators were still online, perimeter alarms still set, rations distributed, weapons checked, cleaned, reloaded. Soldiers who could still stand were given tasks; those who couldn't were ordered to sit down and stay that way. Outpost 34 did what it always did after a massacre — it swallowed the dead and kept breathing.
Nishihara stood on a perimeter wall overlooking the main yard, odachi resting against the railing beside him. His arm was recovering well, his ribs wrapped tight beneath his uniform, but he barely seemed to notice. His eyes followed patrol routes being reassigned, search drones lifting into the sky, squads forming and reforming with practiced ease.
He turned as Yanagi approached, Wachisaka just behind him, tablet tucked under one arm.
'I'll take point on the searches,' Nishihara said before either of them could speak. His voice was calm, steady — too steady. 'Expanded radius. Search around Eisu forst, then the nearby towns and cave formations. If Kanesaki's alive, he won't be hiding forever.'
Yanagi studied him for a long moment. 'You're not hunting him,' he said quietly. 'You're looking for answers.'
Nishihara didn't deny it. 'And Yasuko,' he added. 'She's missing too.'
Wachisaka nodded once, already pulling up maps and sensor overlays. 'I'll allocate recon units. Quiet ones. No announcements.'
Yanagi rested a hand on the railing, gaze drifting toward the horizon. 'Until we know more, this stays internal. No panic. No rumors. Only us and command.' He looked back to Nishihara. 'Bring them home. Both of them — if you can.'
Nishihara's fingers curled briefly against the cold metal. 'I will.'
***
The medical bay was quieter.
Lights were dimmed to a soft, sterile glow, the air filled with the steady hum of life-support systems and the faint hiss of auto-injectors cycling medication. Yasui lay propped up against her pod, injuries mainly healed by her own body, the pod simply decreasing the time it took. She looked annoyed more than injured.
Across from her, Ike lay unconscious in his pod, chest rising and falling beneath a web of monitors and cables. His face was a mess of healing tissue and scabbed fractures, but he was breathing — stable, according to the display.
Yasui stared at him for a long moment, jaw tight.
'What happened in there,' she muttered.
Her gaze drifted over to Ike, then upward, toward the ceiling window, catching a glimpse of the stars vanishing as the sun's bright gold englifed the darkness.
Somewhere out there, Yasuko and Kanesaki were still alive.
The medbay doors slid open with a muted hiss.
Maeda stepped inside.
He moved without urgency, coat immaculate despite everything, scarf masking his lower face, glasses freshly replaced — thin lenses catching the sterile light as he scanned the room. The hum of life-support systems filled the air, steady and oblivious.
Yasui was already on her feet, talking quietly with a medic as she threw her jacket over her shoulder, the other hand held against her hip. Maeda watched her from a distance, expression unreadable. Her gaze flicked briefly toward him — sharp, suspicious — but she was exhausted, dulled by the pod's painkillers and adrenaline burn. She turned away moments later, striding toward the exit.
The doors sealed behind her.
Maeda waited.
Only when her footsteps faded did he move.
His shoes made no sound against the medbay floor as he approached Ike's pod. He stopped just short of the glass, hands folding neatly behind his back, posture relaxed — as if he were observing a specimen rather than a man.
Ike lay motionless inside, chest rising and falling beneath the web of cables and bandages. His face was swollen, healing tissue still raw in places, jaw wired, one eye sealed shut beneath a translucent medical film. The monitors displayed stable vitals — but only just.
Maeda tilted his head slightly.
'So resilient,' he murmured, voice barely louder than the machines. 'And yet… so close to breaking permanently.'
His reflection stared back at him from the pod's surface, fractured faintly by the curvature of the glass — his eyes cold, calculating. He knew the truth as clearly as if it were written out before him.
Ike's very life was a problem.
Ike recovering was a certainty.
And Ike remembering — remembering the cave, the clones, the betrayal — that was dangerous.
Maeda's gloved fingers twitched once, subtly, as if weighing an invisible blade.
It would be easy. A disruption of life support. A misplaced dose. A momentary system failure in the chaos of recovery. No one would question it — not after everything they'd lost. Another casualty of the night. Another name added to the list.
He leaned closer, peering through the glass at Ike's battered face.
'If you wake,' Maeda said softly, almost thoughtfully, 'you'll look for answers. You'll pull at threads you don't understand. And that will lead you back to me.'
A pause.
Then the faintest smile touched his hidden lips.
'But answers,' he continued, straightening, 'are a privilege of the living.'
Footsteps sounded down the corridor.
Maeda stepped back smoothly, hands returning to his sides, expression resetting into something neutral — harmless. By the time a medic glanced his way, he was already turning, walking calmly toward the exit.
Behind him, Ike's pod continued to hum, steady and unaware.
The medbay doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Nishihara stepped inside.
His eyes immediately caught Maeda's back as the man moved away from Ike's pod — too calm, too composed for someone who'd just come from the cave. Nishihara slowed, hand resting loosely at his side, posture neutral but alert.
'…Captain Maeda,' he said.
Maeda stopped and turned, surprise flickering across his face just enough to feel rehearsed. 'Lieutenant,' he replied smoothly. 'Didn't expect to see you here.'
Nishihara's gaze lingered on him — then drifted briefly to Ike's pod, the steady blue vitals pulsing across the display.
'Neither did I,' Nishihara said. 'After the cave.'
A pause. Not hostile. Measured.
'What happened down there?' Nishihara asked. 'With Ike. With Kanesaki. With the clones.'
Maeda sighed softly, like a man tired of repeating bad news. He folded his arms loosely, eyes lowering in something that could pass for regret.
'It went wrong,' he said. 'Fast. Kanesaki… changed. He was already cracking when I arrived.'
Nishihara didn't interrupt.
'He turned the clones,' Maeda continued. 'Not directly — at least, not at first. He fed into their aggression, their instincts. Promised them strength, purpose. They listened.' A small shake of his head. 'By the time we realized what he was doing, they were slaughtering anything that moved. Soldiers. Medics. Anything with a heartbeat.'
Nishihara's jaw tightened.
'And Ike?' he asked.
Maeda hesitated — just enough. 'The lieutenant tried to stop him, but got caught in the chaos. I barely fought off Kanesaki myself.'
Silence stretched.
Nishihara searched his face, eyes sharp, cataloging every micro-expression, every controlled breath. Something about the story sat wrong — too clean, too neatly framed — but there was no proof. Just fog and corpses and a Chimera gone.
'…You're saying Kanesaki orchestrated it,' Nishihara said quietly.
Maeda met his gaze evenly. 'I'm saying he wasn't the man you thought he was. Most Chimera aren't to be trusted.'
Another beat. Maeda took a step past Nishihara, brushing his shoulder against the Officer's.
'You of all people should know that,' he mumbled under the scarf.
'What was that?'' Turning, Nishihara's eyes bore into Maeda's.
The Chimera faced him partially, one foot about to move. 'Did I speak, officer?'
Silence. For a moment.
'Thanks for the report,' Nishihara said at last.
Maeda inclined his head. 'Of course.'
He turned and walked out without looking back, boots silent against the floor.
Only after the doors sealed did Nishihara exhale.
He moved past Ike's pod, past the medics, and stopped beside the adjacent chamber.
In the adjacent pod, Hirabayashi lay, her body still significantly burnt — the display showed that she was recovering, even if painfully slow.
Nishihara rested a hand against the glass.
'…Kanesaki,' he murmured, voice low, meant only for her and himself. 'What did you do?'
His reflection stared back at him — tired, conflicted.
'If I find you,' he whispered, fingers curling slightly, 'I don't know if I'll draw my blade to a rogue… or lower it for a friend.'
The pod hummed softly in response.
Chapter 59 — end