EASRS Zero Z
Chapter 4
The corridor of EASRS Foundation – Site 24 stretched endlessly ahead, twisting and narrowing like the insides of some mechanical beast.
Kana walked alone.
No footsteps echoed beside her.
No voices followed.
Only the cold metallic walls, perfectly aligned panels reflecting faint white light, and the distant blinking of surveillance cameras—silent witnesses that never slept.
Her blue eyes slowly closed as she leaned her shoulder against the wall.
A faint vibration pulsed from inside her lab coat.
The communicator.
She exhaled quietly, reached up, and brushed her dark-orange hair aside before pulling the device from her pocket. She didn't speak at first—only listened.
From the other end came a low, drawn-out male voice.
Long. Flat.
The kind of voice that sounded like it belonged to an IT worker forced into unpaid overtime at 3:00 a.m.
Tanaka Fuyuki
> Kana Aston.
Proceed to Area A.
Floor minus six.
Interrogation Room 204.
Kana's brow twitched.
Annoyance flickered across her face as she resumed walking down the empty, anti-slip corridor. Her reply came out lazy, tired, and faintly resentful—as if every word had to be dragged out of her throat.
Kana
> Yes, thank you…
As always, your timing is impeccable, Mister Fuyuki.
Damn it…
Silence followed.
The elevator doors came into view at the end of the hallway, their steel surface dull and cold beneath the harsh lights. As Kana stopped in front of them, the same monotonous voice returned through the communicator.
She pressed the button to go down.
Red LED numbers blinked softly as she leaned against the wall beside the elevator. Kana closed her eyes again—not because she wanted to, but because resisting that voice was pointless.
Instead, she resigned herself to it.
Like background noise.
Like the rhythm of life inside this place.
Fuyuki
> Complaints require reasonable justification, Miss Kana Aston.
Your body—measuring precisely 62.82 inches in height—was clearly recorded at a one-to-one scale by cameras in Area B, Floor 3.
An area currently not assigned to any active project.
You were observed pacing there casually… waiting for the end of your shift.
The elevator doors slid open with a dull mechanical sound.
Kana straightened lazily and stepped inside. Her voice—dry, hoarse, and lifeless—followed her, even though she clearly had no intention of continuing the conversation. Despite being a Class 4A employee of EASRS, her attitude was no different from that of a rookie: lazy, unmotivated, wanting the paycheck without the effort.
Kana
> Hey, stop nitpicking, will you?
I'm 1.60 meters, not 1.59. Get it right.
Now shut that communicator off for me—I'm heading down.
She twisted the frequency dial, cutting the line, and shoved the communicator back into her coat pocket.
The elevator began its descent.
Kana glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she adjusted her messy hair—so tangled it resembled a crow's nest. Dark circles hung heavily beneath her eyes, deep and pronounced, like a panda's.
The only difference was that she was human.
Barely.
At this point, it would be hard to tell her apart from a corpse—
she looked more lifeless than most ghosts.
At this point, it would be hard to tell her apart from a corpse—
she looked more lifeless than most ghosts.
---
When the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, Kana stepped out, exhaustion clinging to her like a second skin.
She walked toward the glass wall where pale white lights spilled across the polished floor of the facility. With a weary push, she opened the glass doors and stepped outside. Beyond them, a vast blue sky stretched overhead, framing three massive buildings rising from the dense forests of Western California. Their countless windows resembled those of ordinary office complexes—cold, orderly, deceiving. At the top of the largest structure, the words "Site 24" were emblazoned in bold black lettering, stark against the concrete.
On the ground below, technical staff dressed in blue uniforms maneuvered carts stacked with intricate mechanical equipment toward several black-painted V-22 aircraft, each bearing the emblem of the EASRS Foundation on its fuselage. Nearby, other technicians were busy repairing machinery whose purpose Kana neither knew nor cared to ask about. Across the asphalt grounds, black M2A3 armored vehicles rumbled steadily in formation, moving with purpose toward an unseen destination.
Kana continued toward the largest building.
After a short walk, the main entrance came into view. White lettering stood out clearly against the gray stone wall:
"Area A."
Suppressing a yawn, she pushed open the glass doors and stepped inside. The interior was simple—almost deceptively so. A wooden reception desk stood at the center, where a male receptionist was focused on his computer. He glanced up, meeting Kana's gaze, and gave a brief nod in recognition. She returned it faintly.
At the entrance, two security guards in blue uniforms stood watch, each holding a compact P90. The weapons were small, almost unassuming—but Kana knew better. In the hands of trained professionals, they could shred a human body in seconds. The guards exchanged a silent glance, then returned to their post without a word.
On both sides of the main hall stretched long corridors bathed in soft daylight filtering through the windows. Researchers in pristine white lab coats walked past or stood in small groups, quietly discussing matters only they understood. The coats were simple, clean, and precise—much like the institution itself.
Kana lazily moved past the reception desk toward a restricted corridor leading to the elevators. Upon reaching it, she pressed the call button.
Almost immediately, the familiar ding echoed.
Before she could even steal a moment of rest, the elevator doors opened. Kana stepped inside, her pale fingers pressing the button for Level -6. The elevator descended swiftly, its motion smooth and silent, until another ding announced its arrival.
She barely had time to close her eyes before the doors slid open again.
Several guards stood waiting outside. Kana stepped out, finding herself surrounded by rows of security personnel stationed in front of interrogation rooms lining the corridor. Their presence was heavy, oppressive, like invisible pressure against the skin.
She walked past the doors one by one, her eyes flicking upward to scan the room numbers.
…201.
…202.
…203.
She stopped.
204.
That was the room.
Kana pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was stark—almost pitifully so. A rusted metal table sat in the center, a standard surveillance camera mounted above it, angled downward without emotion. Two chairs faced each other across the table.
On one side sat D. Elena.
Her wrists and ankles were restrained with reinforced bindings. She wore an orange inmate uniform, her small body slumped lifelessly in the chair. She was unconscious, sedated. Pale lashes rested against soft, childlike features, her breathing shallow but steady.
Kana sat down in the chair opposite her.
A moment later, a guard entered silently and placed a thin file folder and a pen in front of Kana before leaving without a word.
Kana did not open the file.
Instead, she watched.
She studied the delicate lines of Elena's sleeping face, partially hidden beneath long white hair. The sight stirred something difficult to name—an unsettling blend of innocence and danger, fragility and beauty, coexisting in a way that felt almost unreal.
Strange.
Beautiful.
And deeply wrong.
After a while, D. Elena's eyes slowly opened.
Still heavy with the remnants of sedatives, her gaze drifted across the room, unfocused, half-hidden beneath strands of white hair that spilled messily over her face. The world returned to her in fragments—cold air, the faint hum of machinery, the dull ache of restraints biting into her wrists.
Kana rose quietly from her chair.
She walked toward Elena without haste, bending down until they were almost at eye level. Her fingers—small, pale, and slender—gently brushed across Elena's face, sweeping the curtain of white hair away from her eyes. The touch was careful, almost absent-minded, as if Kana herself were barely awake.
Then she turned away.
Kana stepped toward the camera mounted on the wall, loosened the lens cap, adjusted its angle, and pressed the red button.
The camera began recording.
She let out a soft yawn, rubbing the corner of her eye, before returning to her chair and sitting down. When she spoke, her voice was warm—too warm for an interrogation room—and laced with unmistakable fatigue. Her blue eyes met Elena's directly.
Kana
> Hello. I am Dr. Kana Aston of the EASRS Foundation, Western United States Branch… um…
She yawned again, quickly covering her mouth before continuing. Her gaze never left Elena, who was now testing the restraints, pulling instinctively against them. The bindings, however, were far too tight. No matter how she twisted, escape was impossible.
Kana
> You are currently in an interrogation room. Please cooperate with the investigation and answer the questions honestly…
Having finished her introduction, Kana abruptly leaned forward and laid her upper body flat against the table, clearly overwhelmed by exhaustion.
Elena stared.
Despite still being under the effects of anesthesia, she found herself far more alert than the orange-haired girl sprawled in front of her. Her eyes narrowed slightly—not in hostility, but in pure confusion. Whatever drug they had used on her, it certainly hadn't left her this pathetic.
After a brief pause, Elena smiled.
It was silent, subtle, and unmistakably mocking.
She spoke slowly, her tone light, laced with American-style sarcasm as she looked down at the lethargic "doctor."
D. Elena
> Oh~~ yes, of course, Princess Sleeping-in-the-Woods from Canada…
I'll cooperate.
But, um… could you maybe try being a little more serious?
Kana lifted her head at the sound of Elena's voice and attempted to straighten herself by grabbing onto the chair.
She failed spectacularly.
Her grip slipped, and she toppled backward with a dull thud.
For a split second, the room was silent.
Then Elena laughed—soft, breathy, unable to stop herself. The scene before her was so absurd it bordered on surreal.
Kana groaned, clutching the edge of the chair, before awkwardly hauling herself back upright. She stared straight into Elena's eyes, blinking hard as if trying to force her consciousness back online.
Kana
> U-um… could you provide your personal information, please…?
Elena smiled again.
She watched Kana fumble with her chair, clearly amused, a mix of mild interest and genuine entertainment flickering in her eyes. At this moment, Kana looked less like a doctor and more like a poorly rehearsed clown.
Elena spoke, her voice dripping with playful mockery.
D. Elena
> Very well, very well, exhausted little princess.
My name is Despair Elena.
Nineteen years old if you're counting by calendar years—eighteen if by birthday.
Though… I don't think I've had my birthday yet.
Nationality: Russian.
And, um… I was an intern at the FDC, U.S. Branch.
Kana hurriedly began writing.
Her handwriting was… disastrous. Crooked, uneven, and barely recognizable as English. It looked worse than that of elementary school children still learning the alphabet. She scribbled furiously while speaking, never once looking up.
Elena, meanwhile, continued to chuckle quietly at the ridiculousness of it all.
Then Kana spoke again.
Kana
> Uh—thanks for your cooperation.
I don't know exactly what's wrong with you, but from what I remember, you may be affected by UTA UN-3000A, also known as Blood Angel…
Originating from Yggdrasil, Angel Number 14 of Yeshua…
Elena watched Kana ramble, her eyes darting around as if desperately trying to recall a script she had never fully memorized.
After a moment, Elena spoke calmly—far too calmly—as though this entire situation was exactly as she had anticipated.
D. Elena
> Stop.
Listen.
Pick up your radio and call the specialists.
Have them prepare a full medical examination for me.
And… Doctor Who Forgot Her Lines—
I'm not feeling any pain right now.
Which means whatever this is… it's probably buried deep inside my body.
Kana froze for half a second.
Then she understood.
She quickly shoved her hand into her lab coat pocket, pulling out the radio. She twisted the dial back and forth clumsily, fumbling with the frequency. After several tries, it finally connected.
She brought it close to her mouth and spoke with sudden, misplaced confidence—her voice hurried, almost panicked.
Elena watched the scene with open amusement, genuinely baffled as to how someone this slow and scatterbrained had ever been certified as an official EASRS doctor.
Kana
> Dr. Fuyuki, please prepare a full medical evaluation.
Subject currently shows no externally detectable abnormalities…
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Then Fuyuki's voice came through—deep, calm, warm, and unmistakably exhausted. The voice of a man who had long since accepted the burden of managing a colleague who was equal parts genius, disaster, and child.
Fuyuki
> Alright, alright…
Dr. Kana.
I'm on my way.
[to be continued]