Yokohama did not look conquered and that was the most dangerous part. The streets still wore their old skin, neon lights still bled across wet pavement. Trains still ran because habit was one of the last religions humanity had left. Convenience stores still restocked their shelves and office towers still lit up at night like beacons of denial. People still argued about trivial things out of instinct such as deadlines, exams, and relationships. Because the mind refused to accept that the world had been taken unless it saw chains.
But the city had changed. Not visibly. Spiritually. The air itself had learned discipline. It moved with awareness now, as if it was waiting for permission before brushing past a person's face. A subtle pressure pressed down on crowds in the same way gravity did: constant, quiet, and impossible to negotiate with. Even laughter felt like it had to request space. Above Yokohama, the rift remained open, not shimmering or roaring just simply there. A stable wound in the heavens stretched across the sky. Every public screen replayed the same official broadcasts. The words were careful and repeated so often the people became numb to it.
Registration centres established.
Awakened individuals must report.
Joint patrols are operating for public safety.
Compliance ensures stability.
"Stability." A very pretty word for a leash.
Keiko Tanaka used to enjoy her walks home after late shifts. It was one of the few pleasures she allowed herself to have. A slow stroll past the harbour, the smell of salt and fuel, the hum of a city pretending it wasn't too big for its own heart. She used to stop at vending machines, buy a warm cup of coffee, and watch reflections move in building glass like the city itself was alive. But tonight she walked quickly. Too quickly. Her shoes clicked against the pavement in a way that made her flinch. Every sound felt louder now because the world around her felt quieter. Not empty, just restrained.
A group of teens were near the corner of a lit street, phones in their hands, filming the open sky as if recording it could make it seem less real. One of them laughed shakily and the others joined in too but it wasn't joy. It was panic wearing a mask. Keiko kept walking. Then she saw the patrol.
Two human police officers stood near an intersection, talking to a third figure who was not human. The officers' posture was different than it had been a week ago, their hands were away from their weapons that were strapped comfortably in their holsters. Their shoulders held tension, but it wasn't aggression, it was reverence forced by fear. The third figure wore pale armour that didn't look like any military gear Keiko had ever seen. It seemed to fit their body perfectly, as if it was grown from their very body rather than manufactured. No insignia or any badges. Yet the air around them moved strangely, a constant faint swirl that tugged at loose paper, lifted hair, and made the streetlights flicker as though the atmosphere itself was recognising this higher ranked being.
An air elemental. Keiko's mouth went dry. She quickly reminded herself that this was normal now. The officer closest to the elemental held a tablet with a map displayed, gesturing at marked zones. The elemental nodded once, his expression unreadable, eyes faintly luminous as if light lived behind his irises. Keiko couldn't hear the conversation, but she could feel the presence. It was not hostile. It didn't need to be.
Keiko crossed the street without meaning to. Her phone buzzed and she flinched so hard her fingers nearly dropped it. The reaction embarrassed her, and she glanced around quickly, hoping nobody noticed. She pulled her phone out and she saw that it was a message from her mum.
Did you see the registration notice? They are saying everyone needs to report if they feel anything strange. Even a little tingle. Are you okay? Keiko stared at the words.
Three days ago, she had felt something during her shift, a sudden warmth in her chest like a coil tightening beneath her sternum. A customer had screamed at her for a mistake she didn't even make, and Keiko had felt rage spike through her like a flame doused in oil. For a heartbeat, she'd sworn the light above her flickered in response. Her blood froze. She had washed her hands afterwards three times in the staff bathroom like cleanliness could erase fear. She hadn't told anyone in fear of being reported for not being assessed. Her thumbs hovered over her phone, I'm fine she typed. A lie with the softness of survival. She quickly passed the patrol and didn't look back.
But as she walked away, she felt the air shift, subtle, like someone's attention turning. Not the officers nor was it from the elemental. Something higher. Something that didn't need eyes to see her. Keiko quickened her pace until she reached her apartment building, keys shaking in her hand. When she finally closed the door behind her, she exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for hours. For the first time in her life, she thought the most forbidden thought.
I miss when the air belonged to everyone.
Officer Hiro Sakamoto had joined the police with the dream of protecting people. He had believed in the idea of it, not because he was naive, but because he needed something to justify the job when he saw what humans did to each other even without monsters in the sky. He had watched domestic abuse disputes unravel into murders. He had seen addicts stab strangers for mere change. He had carried too many bodies out of alleyways that no one would remember in a week. He thought he understood violence.
Then the Wardens arrived. Now he stood beside an air elemental and tried not to shake. It wasn't the elementals fault, Hiro knew. This was one was disciplined. Quiet. Polite even, in a way that made Hiro feel worse because it wasn't cruelty forcing him into obedience, it was inevitability. Hiro glanced at his partner, Officer Mizuno, who was desperately trying to keep her face calm. Her jaw was clenched so tightly Hiro could see her cheek twitch. On the tablet, the map glowed with zones: patrol routes, registration centre boundaries, "breach-adjacent districts," and a new label the government had started using in internal documents. High-Risk Disappearance Corridors. Hiro hated that phrase. Disappearance wasn't a crime. Crime had bodies, evidence. Disappearances left only a hole.
He cleared his throat and spoke carefully, addressing the elemental because that was the new norm. "We've got reports of an awakened teenager near Minami Ward, " he said. "Family refusing registration. They're afraid you will take him." The air elemental's expression didn't change. "We will," he said calmly. "If he is unstable." Hiro swallowed. "He's sixteen." "Age is irrelevant, it does not reduce the risk the awakened teen possesses. Officer Mizuno spoke, her voice low. "We can talk to them first. Calm the family down gently. They will be more likely to comply if they feel safe." The elemental's gaze shifted to her slowly. The air around them tightened slightly, not aggressive, but testing as if the air itself was measuring whether Mizuno's words held any weight. "Safety is not guaranteed," he said. Hiro forced himself to speak up again. "Then what are we offering?" The elemental paused, then answered un the most chillingly reasonable tone Hiro had ever heard. "Stability."
Hiro felt something inside him drop. That word again. He nodded because nodding was what you did when an elemental gave you a statement. As they walked, civilians parted like water around a blade. Some people stared whilst others looked away. Some even had contempt in their eyes for the two officers for being with the "enemy". A child tugged on their parent's sleeve and asked something, voice too low for Hiro to hear. The parent didn't answer. As they moved through a narrow street, Hiro's radio crackled. A dispatch's video cut through static. "Unit Three, possible rogue activity near the docks. Unregistered elemental signature detected. Proceed with caution." Hiro's blood went cold. Rogue elementals. Not the Warden's disciplined escorts or the one with the banners. Or even the "good ones" who migrated to Earth filled with curiosity. They were the ones the broadcasts never described properly because describing them would require admitting a truth the government couldn't stomach. Some beings came to govern, whilst others came for their own selfish reasons.
Hiro looked at the air elemental beside him. "Are you calling for your people?" he asked quietly. The elemental's gaze lifted upward towards the open sky. "No," he said simply. "The taskforce is already moving."
Sylpha adjusted her patrol route without breaking stride. She wasn't a Warden, she wasn't even close. She was a mid-tier officer under the Air Empire, deployed under the Warden of the North's oversight to assist in stabilising human territory until infrastructure was rebuilt around obedience. Yokohama was so messy. Humans packed themselves into vertical cages of glass and steel and called it a city. Their streets were chaotic arteries, their transportation systems fragile, their communication networks noisy and redundant. Yet the density also made them easier to manage. Sylpha walked with her squad; a lightning elemental officer, a nature elemental and two human police liaisons. The humans were tense, their hearts stuttering with anxiety like an engine trying to start in cold weather.
Sylpha didn't mind at all, fear was functional after all. She sensed a residue, faint, drifting from an alleyway. Elemental energy. Rogue. She raised one hand, her squad stopping instantly. The lightning officer's body twitched, electricity humming beneath his skin. The nature elemental eye's narrowed, sensing disturbance in the soil beneath the concrete. Sylpha extended her perception in the alleyway, using the wind to extend her senses. There. A flicker of elemental residue clinging to brick wall. It was fresh. Recent. It seems like it was a low-tier elemental that was passing through. She clicked her tongue softly, irritation tightening her throat. "Unauthorised signature," she said. One of the human officers swallowed, trying to look brave. "Do we engage?"
Sylpha almost smirked. We? Humans always framed danger as a shared burden. But the question was worth consideration, the protocol dictated observation, marking, reporting. Removal followed if necessary. Engage if necessary or if civilian harm was imminent. This was the Warden's instructions, and Sylpha was determined to follow it to the letter. The Warden does not like chaos. He likes controlled fear. Fear that was useful and served structure.
"Mark and report," she decided. The humans visibly relaxed. Sylpha recorded the signature on her internal map, tagging the alley. She could already feel another unit shifting towards it, one of the elite squads, the ones being trained specifically for situations such as this one. She turned to continue the patrol, then she felt it. Not the rogue residue but something larger. A pressure above, a silent gaze. Sylpha lifted her eyes towards the sky without realising she was doing so. He was not visible, not standing there like a theatrical king in the sky. He didn't need to be present to be felt. His authority threaded the atmosphere like invisible wires. Everyone under his jurisdiction breathed through his permission whether they admitted it or not. The humans around her shivered faintly, they didn't know why. They didn't have to. Sylpha lowered her gaze and kept walking.
Order was a discipline and discipline was mercy.
The gymnasium had been turned into a registered centre in two days.
The basketball hoops were still there, folded up against the walls, a mocking reminder that the room used to host something as harmless as sports. Now it hosted lines of frightened civilians, medical staff, government officials, and behind every desk, sat the elementals. Reina Sato stood near the back, arms folded, expression composed. She had insisted the elementals be visible. Not because it was an act of kindness, rather because hidden surveillance created paranoia, and paranoia led to chaos. Chaos was the one thing the Warden of the North would punish indiscriminately. Reina didn't want her city nor her country to be punished.
A nurse guided a trembling teenager into a chair. His fingers twitched uncontrollably, and each time he breathed too fast, the metal chair vibrated faintly. The boy's eyes were wide and wet, cheeks flushed with shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm trying to stop it." "We know," the nurse said softly. "Just take it easy and take some deep breaths." "I am breathing!" The vibration intensified, and the chair frame started to creak and bend. Nearby civilians flinched and backed away instinctively.
A metal elemental stepped forward, his presence was heavy, calming like pressure applied to a wound. He placed one hand on the chair and the vibration stopped instantly. The boy stared at the titan of a man, stunned. "Continue," the elemental said calmly. The boy nodded frantically and looked down, tears falling onto his hands. Reina watched without blinking. This is what governance looked like, human fear managed by non-human discipline.
A woman approached Reina hesitantly, clutching a registration slip so tightly it crumpled. "Director Sato?" Reina turned. "Yes." The woman's voice lowered. "My daughter... she hasn't shown anything yet, but what if she does later? Will they take her?" Reina held her gaze. The question lived in every parent's mouth now, even when they didn't ask it out loud. "No," Reina said carefully. "She will be monitored. Assisted. Protected." The woman searched Reina's face desperate for certainty. "And if she refuses?" Reina felt the air tighten behind her. Not enough for civilians to notice, but she noticed. She always noticed now. She had learned to read the atmosphere like it was language. Reina chose her words as if they were weapons. "Then she will be addressed," Reina said. "Like any other risk." The woman's lips trembled. She nodded slowly. When she walked away, Reina exhaled. She hated that she had become good at saying terrible things calmly. A subordinate hurried over, panting. "Director, we have a problem." Reina's eyes sharpened. "Speak." "The Hospitals," he said quickly." The reports are increasing, people are being moved out not by authorised squads or by the police. Staff members are missing as well." Reina's stomach tightened. "Disappearance corridors." Her aide nodded.
Reina looked across the gym. Civilians sat in folding chairs, holding slips of paper like they meant something. Children stared at the elementals with a mixture of fascination and terror. Some awakened individuals looked relieved to be seen, whilst others looked like they had just signed their own death warrants. Reina murmured, almost to herself. "Stability doesn't stop predators." Her subordinate swallowed. "What should we do?" Reina's gaze lifted towards the open sky through the gym's high windows. "We continue to build the structure the Warden approves of," she said quietly. "And we build a shadow structure beneath it, because our people need protection even from the ones who claim to govern them." She didn't need to add the other truth out loud.
Protection required power and that required time. Time was something Reina desperately lacked.