On the 12th of December, AD 2049, the skies of Terra Prime became an esoteric doorway for its first hallowed executioners.
Utilizing the planet's unsophisticated communications network, a declaration had been delivered for every primitive lifeform to perceive, its jagged syllables suffused with the required arts to render Lancelot's tongue into the Curse of Balal's countless linguistical offspring. Once Terra Prime's denizens became aware of their impending fates, a single command was transmitted throughout the Great River: "Awaken. Descend. Purge." The Distortion brigades acknowledged its call for a crusade in perfect unison. Each of them having remained in strategic reserve for three entire Prime years, their armoured frames fell from the heavens to enact their charge with extreme prejudice.
Massacres commenced within seconds. Warzones and battle-lines erupted within minutes. Crackling rifts ravaged the planet's swirling empyrean. A billion clanking silhouettes rampaged across Terra Prime's capitals with the might of a natural disaster. And yet, these hollow warriors were merely the scouting force. An experimental constituent of a greater whole that would not be unchained until planetary subjugation was to be initiated in earnest.
This was a test of the enemy's fortifications. A pageant to fester dread within the hearts of its defenders. A festival to broadcast the arrival of this planet's rightful inhabitants.
As a ringed moon orbited Terra Prime, the celestial body's reflected light washed over Tokyo's streets, illuminating the gore-stained suits of armour which marched with the intent to cleanse a shrieking infestation. The lucky ones perished before they even noticed the fate that had befallen them. Those less fortunate were either dragged out of their shelters or chased down to be butchered atop snow-covered concrete. When the capital's armed responders dared to confront the arcane tide of metal, scorching rays shot down from the skies to engulf their speeding automobiles, reducing primitive constructs to red-hot embers while their mysterious assailant hovered between the city's skyscrapers.
"Awaken. Descend. Purge." Proto-Zero heeded no other command as the glistening veins in Tokyo's skyline expanded into rifts, blessing this domain with pulsing apertures for the angels whom Proto-Zero held no authority over.
Within its arteries, arcane potential flowed. Destruction lied at Proto-Zero's fingertips and collared sentience puppeteered its enhanced muscles. But underneath the baleful mono-eye of its Knight-Commander, Proto-Zero was considered no different from the autonomous weapons who paraded the roads beneath its levitating form. Concealed by its tattered, hooded cloak, Proto-Zero scanned the surrounding chaos through a helm's symbolic face-plate, providing it with a perfect analysis of the missiles which soared towards it like a murder of whistling crows.
Maledictions departed from its mouth-plate akin to a demand for death.
Calling upon the implant that chewed into its cursed heart, Proto-Zero whispered invocation after invocation, weaving together a blooming mass of unreality between its still-hissing palms.
The utterance of one last syllable exerted an esoteric force beyond this planet's comprehension. Ballistic missiles swerved from their trajectories, sending the soaring weapons astray until their payloads bombarded the very defenders who had launched them. The ensuing cacophony crackled like thunder amidst the bleeding skyline, deafening any who could witness this garden of annihilation while fleeing responders and civilians alike continued to be cut down, disintegrated, and crushed underneath a crusading force's righteous will. No survivors were to be left behind in the wake of Proto-Zero's arrival, for to lay one's eyes on it was to essentially submit yourself to the specter which these lifeforms amusingly referred to as 'Death'.
"Awaken. Descend. Purge." While a breeze of ashen remains blew against its face-plate, Proto-Zero clasped its hands together, and held them in a wordless prayer. It heard nothing except its imprinted commands. It spoke nothing except for a reverent whisper to this holy purge. Enveloped by the magnificent warmth of this planet's purification, Proto-Zero torpedoed towards the ground, all so it could resume carrying out its duties with devout fervour.
An intercom's muffled buzzing subsequently blared from beyond the walls.
Drawing in a trembling breath, Shinonome Aiko tore open her eyelids and gripped the sides of her aching skull, forcefully anchoring herself to reality as she dropped onto her knees underneath a deafening showerhead. The bathroom's searing waters engulfed Aiko's pathetic physique from head-to-toe, drenching bare, pale-white skin and silver hair alike while she fought to drown her own reemerging memories. Her wordless pleas obviously could not banish the returning fragments. Like the opposing ends of a magnet, the shards of her past slowly pieced themselves together, forming memory-after-memory of the injustices that Proto-Zero once committed against the very populace she lived amongst.
Eventually, Aiko impaled her trembling palms with a widened stare, and ruminated once again on the number of lives her soaked fingertips had forever undone. The souls they had extinguished before they reached out for an Adaptor's scarred cheek.
It was a gesture which Aiko only carried out because she bore the temporary privilege of blissful ignorance. Ignorance of the ichor that would forever condemn her soul.
"No more," Aiko whispered, her syllables buried by the hissing torrent above her. "Please... no more..."
If a demiurge in the heavens truly existed to bear witness to the begging of mere mortals, Aiko held no belief in receiving any reciprocation for her cries. Not one ounce of her deserved it. Not when she bore the bloodstains of a so-called 'holy cleansing'. With no more tears left to physically shed, Aiko hauled herself off the submerged flooring, and halted the waters through the faltering tug of a lever. She then gave herself a minute to stand completely still, water trickling down from her thin frame as Aiko's empty gaze landed on the wall. Akin to a serrated dagger, the derisive words of Lancelot du Lac buried themselves inside her gut, twisting ever so slightly to induce as much torment as possible.
"... Is this what's become of you, Proto-Zero?"
Aiko dragged herself out of the shower booth in due course. Pulling aside her drenched, silver hair, she approached the bathroom's sink and stood in front of its fog-covered mirror. The pitter-patter of dripping water resounded without pause. Aiko's heart thumped within her chest and a mundane announcement from the command center could be heard over the vessel's intercom. None of these drew a sliver of Aiko's curiosity. Not in the slightest. Lifting a single hand from her side, the silver-haired woman ran its palm across an obscured glass plane, wiping away the built-up condensation until she could see a fraction of her pitiable self.
The sharp breath she subsequently drew lodged itself in her throat.
Within a mirror's reflective realm, Aiko witnessed a devil staring back at her. A battered, hooded cloak masked only a fraction of its armoured physique, allowing her to gaze upon a suit of shimmering amber. Three connected rings glimmered at the center of its chest-plate, forming the stylized symbol of a three-leaf clover which echoed across its metallic form while Aiko froze right where she stood. Underneath its hood's tattered rims sat a crowned helmet, its face-plate adorned with a triumvirate of orbs that directed their piercing sights all on a single woman. This was Shinonome Aiko's true self: The mindless murderer who had crossed paths with Cassandra Jiang Lanfen, and the weapon who threatened the lives of everyone onboard this vessel.
Aiko ripped her gaze from the mirror and threw herself through the doorway.
After slamming the bathroom's entrance shut, the silver-haired woman collapsed onto all fours, and purposefully slammed her head against the metal floor. The ensuing pain which rang throughout Aiko's cranium did nothing to provide a diversion within the callous darkness of her cabin.
Wreathed by a dozen shadows' freezing embrace, Aiko pulled in one laboured gasp after the other, stabilizing the breakneck palpitations within her ribcage. A technique she ironically learned from Lanfen. A technique that successfully tranquilized her mind in time as Aiko huddled against the side of her bed, oblivious to the water which dripped onto it from the ends of her hair. She then caressed her forehead using two shaking fingers, nursing the aches that came about from Aiko's attempt to exorcise her dreaded hallucinations. If either Lanfen, Yuki or Komichi were present to see Aiko for the maddening woman she really was, they would no doubt regret having rescued her from a moon-lit forest.
"Whatever's going on with your memories, you can talk to me or 'Fen about it once things settle down, alright?"
Aiko's golden eyes fixated their pupils on a hanging, monochrome scarf. Although her vision was only faintly able to discern its distinct silhouette, Aiko directed her attention nowhere else while she contemplated on Lanfen's desire to find closure for her sister's murder. Would attaining said closure benefit them all? Or would it only bring about a semblance of peace for the Adaptor and nobody else? No matter what the answer truly was, Aiko's memories were trickling back into her psyche, and she could only fear for what she might reform into if every shard of who she used to be fully returned. Aiko did not desire to harm anyone on this ship. She would sooner disappear than hurt the people who had rescued her from cryogenic imprisonment.
Eventually, the silver-haired woman pulled on a uniform, and left the gloom of her quarters to wander the submarine's corridors without any particular destination in mind. Any sense of sanctuary she initially felt within her cabin was long gone. So, Aiko decided that there was no better occasion than now to go on a quiet stroll. The S.O.N.G. personnel she encountered during her walk all greeted her kindly with accompanying salutes. Aiko obviously returned the etiquette in kind, even if her trembling fingertips betrayed the field operator's rising anxieties. Nobody would see her as anything more than someone who had nearly been killed during her first ever mission anyway.
A sharp turn around a corner brought Aiko into yet another unremarkable corridor.
But the group of silhouettes she spotted ahead ended up pulling her into an abrupt halt. Clearly distinguished from the submarine's crew by their military fatigues and green armbands, Aiko recognized the individuals to be members of Task Force Harmony while they conversed around the corridor's designated beverage dispenser. It merely took a second for the squad's apparent leader to notice Aiko. It was Captain Yaiba Isamu. Before Aiko could return a brief nod of acknowledgement from the Captain, the Harmony soldier signaled to their four companions with one hand, wordlessly ordering their subordinates to depart from the corridor until only two individuals remained. Aiko was not sure on what to make of this sudden gesture.
Drawing a series of sharp steps towards the S.O.N.G. field operator, Captain Yaiba took the opportunity to begin with a polite smile. "AG-4-3, Shinonome Aiko, correct?"
By means of an almost inaudible mutter, Aiko meekly confirmed her designation and name. The name she had chosen in order to leave behind a past which now had its cold tendrils around her again. "Is there a matter that requires my participation, Captain?" Aiko inquired, purely to ward off any awkward silence between the two. "As far as I'm aware, the Commander has yet to inform me of any further assignments."
The Captain tossed an emptied drink can into the nearby bin and answered through the careful shake of their head. "Not at all, Miss Shinonome. I... just wanted to know how Miss Cassandra is currently doing," they stated, lightly tugging at their uniform's collar as Aiko's gaze subconsciously lowered itself to the floor. "While I would love to pay her a visit myself, my escort duties are unfortunately keeping my hands tied. Task Force Harmony sadly isn't here to see the sights in your rather impressive ship."
Thinking back on the past 22 hours since Lanfen had regained consciousness, Aiko recalled the numerous phone calls that she chose to neglect while Aiko rotted away inside her quarters. Such blatant disregard for her own teammates no doubt drew presumable concern - or even resentment - from both Lanfen and Yuki. "... The doctors speak highly of her recovery, Captain Yaiba," Aiko confidently claimed, making her guesswork as believable as it could sound. "Lanfen will require further time if she is to be deployed again. But I assure you that the loss of Ayano Komichi shall not stymy us from carrying out our duties."
Captain Yaiba's only response came in the package of a low sigh. "Ah... right. Your team has my condolences for your recent loss as well, Miss Shinonome. In spite of what some may say, I personally don't believe that it actually gets any easier." The soldier then stood to attention and folded their hands behind their back. "Nonetheless, we all have our commitments to fulfill, especially when the lives of innocents are on the line, don't we?"
The Captain's rhetorical question received no reciprocation. Aiko simply cupped a pale cheek with one hand and continued staring at her trembling feet.
Mentioning a friend's recent passing without being prompted to do so had essentially drained Aiko of whatever vigour she still clung on to.
Desperate to distract herself, Aiko looked towards Captain Yaiba, and honed in on the disfigurations she had noticed when they first met face-to-face at the Mitakihara Disaster Memorial.
Burn scars. Semblances of these discolourations could be seen rising from the base of the Captain's neck while similar marks ran atop of their bare hands.
It didn't require long for Captain Yaiba to acknowledge the woman's intrusive examination. Letting loose a light chuckle, one of their hands lifted itself to point at merely one out of a dozen disfigurations. "Curious as to where these came from, are you?"
Aiko subsequently realized her faux-pass as she took a faltering step backwards from the amused soldier.
She did - in fact - hold a clue for where the scarring came from. It was merely a matter of confirming her suspicions.
"Save your breath," Captain Yaiba said, waving off Aiko's imminent apology, "it's not exactly a secret anyway. Hardly any different from what you might hear from anybody in Task Force Harmony." Turning to the nearby beverage dispenser, the Captain deposited a single coin into the machine, calling down a can of iced caffeine for them to rip open. "I'm not sure if Miss Cassandra has already shared this with you, but I was in Tokyo when the Distortions first showed their faces. Wouldn't have survived if Lady Luck hadn't decided to smile down on me."
Aiko made sure to turn her back on Captain Yaiba before she pursed her quivering lips. Despite having expected what she had just perceived, Aiko needed to restrain herself regardless in the face of yet another one of her victims. Few held the fortune to endure being in the path of Proto-Zero's rampage. Any survivors could most likely be counted on just one hand. And if the Captain had lost someone to the aforementioned massacre, Aiko carried no knowledge about it. "... What would occur if we found them?" she then uttered, earning an understandably-confused glance from the person behind her. "Unknown Enemy-02," Aiko elaborated, "the monster responsible for Tokyo's casualties."
The irony of their conversation was hardly lost on Aiko. She couldn't even bring herself to laugh at it.
The Captain leaned against the metal corridor to visibly contemplate their answer. Narrowing their eyes for a brief moment, Captain Yaiba downed their beverage in one swig, and subsequently tossed it aside with a second sigh. "Considering everything it's caused, its elimination would be our highest priority." Aiko flinched at their answer while her fingernails dug into the wrists which now resided in front of her. "Although there are alternatives on the table, such options look to be improbable in our current situation. Therefore, we will prioritize the safety of the innocents first and foremost. And honestly?" Captain Yaiba let out a tired scoff. "I have no qualms about putting that abomination six feet under."
No more syllables resounded from the silver-haired woman who stood before Captain Yaiba Isamu. She merely listened on as a ringing from the digital pad on the soldier's arm-bracer started calling them over to continue their escort duties. Aiko must have heard them apologize for their abrupt departure before heading off. And yet, her mind registered nothing that resembled such a farewell.
Aiko's boots nailed themselves to the floor until Captain Yaiba disappeared from the corner of her vision. When the soldier finally did so, Proto-Zero hovered one hand on top of her pounding chest, and deliberated on the stirring implant which latched on to her cardiovascular system. The weapon that brought damnation to a city of innocents. The tool which bent the elements to her will using mere vocal components and semantic gestures. Fully convinced by now that there was only one path ahead of her if the lives of everyone else far outweighed her own, Aiko began marching back towards her quarters, finally assured of her next choice of action. The conclusion she must bring about if Proto-Zero desired forgiveness for every sin she carried.
Lanfen's misplaced appetite made her do little more than prod the med-bay's provided breakfast. Even with the Adaptor's returning tastebuds, her stomach denied ingress for anything above the bare minimum. Amusingly enough, letting a good meal go to waste like this drew more agony than when Lancelot's blade had run itself through Lanfen's waist. An eventual visit from Professor Elfnein thankfully provided her with something to do other than to stare at her plate. Because once the typical pleasantries were cast aside, Lanfen found herself sitting upright for an interview, all so the Professor could construct a file on a certain Knight-Commander's physical and supernatural capabilities.
"Ascend."
Lancelot only required a single command phrase to invoke her powers. She crossed swords without the obligation to sing. She matched Lanfen blow-for-blow, step-by-step. And she wielded a guise that was unknown to a century's worth of research into the paranormal. Lancelot's aptitude for the blade was rivaled only by her ability to complete the very tools which the Adaptors required to transform. A talent that had set Lanfen onto the path she stubbornly held on to as the seventh living Wielder. Half an hour had elapsed by the time their interview was finished. Having given whatever anecdotal evidence she could muster, Lanfen soon voiced a question which she had been withholding since the Professor's arrival.
"... How is Aiko?"
Still seated at the Adaptor's bedside, Professor Elfnein switched off her data-pad and settled it atop a nearby drawer. "Last I saw her, Shinonome was still resting inside of her quarters," the Professor gently explained. "And considering recent events, I shall not blame Shinonome in the slightest for desiring some time to herself."
Professor Elfnein's response was no different from Yuki and Fujitaka earlier this morning. Neither of their answers discouraged the Adaptor from grasping a budding seed of concern either. Panning her half-blinded vision over to the pocket-watch within her palm, Lanfen's mind deviated once more towards the identity of Kai-Ming's killer, and the Knight-Commander who obviously held its leash. Lancelot had donned the same ironclad form as Unknown Enemy-02. A suit of armour that manifested from a symbolic gem. A jewel which took the shape of a playing-card suit while it bonded with pale-white flesh. An object no different from the one that had been detected within Aiko on the day of her discovery.
Lancelot represented the suit of diamonds. Gawain represented the suit of spades.
And finally, the inert implant which latched on to Aiko's heart represented the suit of clubs.
Nothing about this could be purely coincidental.
"Is there something bothering you, Cassandra?"
The Professor's inquiry wrenched Lanfen out of her contemplation as she suddenly stared back at her colleague. "There's-" Every sentence she tried to beckon forth refused to leave the woman's dried tongue. While a pair of ceiling lights continued to drone above the pair, Lanfen ran one hand across her disheveled hair, tidying it just a bit for her to awkwardly shake her head. "It's nothing," she then insisted, "I'm just... feeling a little sore after being in bed for longer than I'd like."
Nothing about Professor Elfnein's expression implied that she believed Lanfen. But the scientist did not push her question any further. Instead, she chose to retrieve her data-pad before sliding it into a lab-coat which was one size too big for the teenage researcher. "Take your time to recover, Cassandra," she said, casting a brief glance at the wounds beneath Lanfen's medical garb, "the last thing we'd want is for the doctors to complain about reopened injuries." When the Adaptor simply nodded at the advice, Professor Elfnein released a curt yawn, and promptly sprung up from her chair. "That aside, please wish me a bit of luck for my meeting with the world council tomorrow."
Sensing a sudden shiver run through her fingers, Lanfen narrowed her remaining eye, and tightened up a pair of cracked lips. "Professor, do you think Lancelot really intends on replicating the S.W.O.R.D.?"
"We have no way to confirm it," the younger girl stated, "but Lancelot and Gawain were surely aiming for the amassed combat data within your pendant. I have no reason to believe that a covert foe like Lancelot would make such a bold attempt on your life unless the gains far outweighed the risks." After taking several seconds to obviously muse on their enemy, Professor Elfnein turned to Lanfen, and held up a chest-high fist as a gesture of inspiration. "Regardless, I can assure you that my team is already devising a countermeasure. Although it won't be easy to withstand the S.W.O.R.D.'s might, it would only be right of me to protect us from the Symphogear-Destroyer that I developed."
Lanfen could not be any more taken aback by the teenager's fortitude in the face of their circumstances. For all they knew, Lancelot could be finalizing the last stages of her scheme as they spoke, all while S.O.N.G. and Task Force Harmony continued to play on the backfoot. Lifting one arm from her side, Lanfen brushed a single fingertip against the shielding on top of her wounded eye, quietly taking heed of just how blind she had been to Lancelot's trickery ever since she attained the Sword of Damocles. Lanfen was a manufactured heroine in the first place, after all. A pawn on a monochrome board that she had voluntarily climbed onto with a persistent, all-consuming flame within both pupils.
"May I ask you something, Professor?" Lanfen said, a finger still held before a piece of medical shielding. The teenager's response was to merely motion for the Adaptor to go ahead and voice an intrusive thought. "Do you have an idea on just... how everyone here sees me... now that we know how I've just been Lancelot's toy this entire time?"
Astonishingly, a small smile ended up painting itself across the Professor's face. "I can promise you that nobody will hold it against you, Cassandra," she stated without pause. "I myself would only be a hypocrite to do so, especially since I was more or less in your exact situation nearly five years ago. It- It can be rather awkward at first, admittedly," Professor Elfnein briskly added with a small laugh, "but the people within S.O.N.G. are quite accepting of peculiar folk such as you and I."
The Magical Girl incident. Lanfen could only faintly recall the details behind the conflict. But essentially everybody in the organization remembered it to be the point in time where Professor Elfnein first made contact with S.O.N.G. and its six Symphogear-Wielders. The collateral damage caused by the entire affair had been broadcasted all over Japanese television purely due to the cost required for repairs to be accomplished. "... It's a pain to figure out what to do after being twirled around someone's finger, isn't it?" Lanfen dryly remarked, earning herself a brief nod from the Professor.
"I won't disagree. But even so," Professor Elfnein continued, calmly echoing a phrase which Tachibana Hibiki often cried out in defiance, "it will always be our decision in the end which determines our true purpose, Cassandra. How 'weak' or 'strong' you are in everyone else's eyes is irrelevant to this one equation."
Internalizing the Professor's declaration turned out to be a far more laborious commitment than she expected. Every ounce of Lanfen desired to grip her words tight and never let go. And yet, there still existed a fraction of the Adaptor that sought a path for her to be outright pointed at. Professor Elfnein herself barely appeared any older than a teen of 18 years. But every exchange the pair had held with each other essentially betrayed how Lanfen was just a greenhorn among virtuosos of supernatural conflicts. Less than four weeks had elapsed since Lanfen became an Adaptor. The mere idea of reaching a month without an abstraction of whom she desired to be - let alone a definitive motive to wield her Armed Gear - only made Lanfen tighten her five fingers around a silver pocket-watch.
Brief ringing from Lanfen's wrist device announced the arrival of a message as it sat in-between a micro-player and a monochrome belt-buckle. Taking the detached multi-tool off the bedside drawer, Lanfen opened up its holographic interface to discover a letter from Maria. "Good morning, Cassandra. She's now ready to make contact. Feel free to call her once you're up and ready."
"Let's talk again at another time, Professor," Lanfen then said, inputting a reply to thank Maria for her assistance. "This may be sudden... but I have an urgent call to make."
Professor Elfnein voiced no complaints about their conversation's cessation. Taking her leave with a data-pad inside of her lab-coat, the teenage researcher departed from the room with only one remark left to provide. "I suppose we both have ordeals aplenty to face head-on, don't we?"
When the recovery room's door closed itself shut once again, Lanfen sucked in a practiced breath, and planted both feet onto the cold flooring. The Adaptor released a wince while she hoisted herself off the bed, taking her first footsteps away from it since the woman's hospitalization. Throbbing sensations around Lanfen's waist protested against her movements. But she pushed forward anyway and approached the corner of the room where an unoccupied table remained. Settling her wrist device right next to the furniture's coffee machine, Lanfen initiated a video transmission, prompting a loading blip to manifest as she poured herself a piping-hot mug. Her sword-hand would not stop trembling at her side the entire time.
"Connecting... Connecting... Connection confirmed. Securing transmission line. Commencing communications with Adaptor SG-r03': Tachibana Hibiki."
Finally, the holographic screen gave way to a much-awaited sight. A pocket-watch still grasped within the palm of her sword-hand, Lanfen stayed quiet while a chestnut-haired woman digitized into view, practically making her entrance with a bright smile which could only be matched by the late Ayano Komichi. Tachibana Hibiki, Wielder of the striking spear, Gungnir. The woman who had used her bare hands to save the world at least three different times. Judging by what the transmission presented, the senior Adaptor was resting in front of a window with her back to the ringed moon. Her uniform currently replaced by a set of childish-looking pajamas, Lanfen only spoke up after putting aside an emptied coffee mug.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
The more experienced of the two Wielders proceeded to stifle a genuine laugh. "Not at all, Jiang! Not at all," Tachibana reassured Lanfen with a wave of both hands, her body fully leaning against the window frame. "I'm just happy to see you already standing. A few of the others were worried you wouldn't make it, but I knew I could count on you to get back up again." Lanfen briefly wondered on how much of that faith was misplaced before the woman brushed her meddlesome subconsciousness aside. "So," Tachibana eagerly went on, "what's this 'problem' of yours that you wanted my help for?"
Lanfen parted her cracked lips to answer. But the flicker of a proverbial fire in her remaining eye made the Adaptor instead seize up like a marble statue. Blinking once in order to extinguish the cinders, Lanfen drew in another practiced breath, and shoved her contralto voice out into the open.
"Forgiveness." Her syllables were as stiff as granite. "I need guidance... on forgiveness, as stupid as it sounds."
Tachibana's only response came in the form of her widening eyes.
"Up until yesterday," Lanfen elaborated, "I... I could never understand the idea of allowing myself to pardon someone in spite of the atrocities they committed. It was always a simple binary for me: Forgive... or resent." Raising a trembling sword-hand up to her waist, the Adaptor ran an unfocused gaze over Aiko's pocket-watch, taking in the sight of its cracked dials for only four measly seconds. "It's why I wanted to talk to you like this, Tachibana," Lanfen whispered with a light scoff, her throat suddenly a bag of pins and needles. "I want to hear the words that I need, regardless of what I... might end up feeling about them."
Four seconds passed by. Eight seconds passed by. Twelve seconds passed by.
Tachibana took a moment to bring both legs to her chest while she inelegantly loosened the collar of her sleepwear. "I don't really think I'm the best person to put it all into words," she sheepishly admitted, "but if Jiang needs my help, then I'll do my best."
Lanfen's gaze kept itself on the chronometer within her grasp as her senior visibly gathered her thoughts.
With a celestial body gazing down on Tachibana from the night sky, the chestnut-haired woman shifted herself atop the windowsill, and slowly closed her eyes. "I will always believe that it's never wrong to reach out to someone. Some people like to call me 'naive' for it. But even so, I think that if there's even the slightest chance that somebody could take my hand, to step away from the road they're on, then... why not give it at least one or two tries, right?"
Acknowledging the words from a fellow Wielder, Lanfen couldn't help but remember how all the other Adaptors had once clashed with Tachibana Hibiki in one form or another.
Akatsuki Kirika, Tsukuyomi Shirabe, Kazanari Maria, Yukine Chris, and even Kazanari Tsubasa. Each of them chose to grasp on to Tachibana's hand, and battle alongside her, regardless of the blows once exchanged between them. An immediate glance at the pocket-watch she held allowed Lanfen to witness her reflection. Within it, the one-eyed Wielder could notice how the scars on her face had healed, including the very one which tainted Lanfen's cheek on the evening she discovered Aiko. Lanfen then pulled up her other hand to input a command into her sitting wrist device. The precise sequence she weaved accessed the depths of S.O.N.G.'s archives, establishing a batch of holographic dossiers regarding two distinct individuals.
Saint-Germain, Head-Maestro of the Bavarian Illuminati.
Carol Malus Dienheim, the infamous Murderer of Miracles.
Both were centuries-old combatants who fought tooth-and-nail to obliterate the Symphogears. Mistresses of alchemy who would repeatedly collide with S.O.N.G. before they eventually laid down their lives for the sake of the world. Neither apparently hesitated to march into the grave when their final moments arrived. Every last second of their immortal existence had been dedicated purely - and solely - to fighting alongside Tachibana Hibiki, a teenage girl who they ended up knowing for barely more than a single month. "Is that belief," Lanfen continued, her tense shoulders slowly loosening, "essentially what allowed you to stand beside enemies like them?"
The junior Adaptor's inquiry was only answered by a momentary nod. The sudden sight of the long-passed women understandably gave Tachibana pause. "Saint-Germain and Carol are exactly the sort of people I'm talking about, Jiang," she explained, a tinge of wistfulness present in her voice. "Sure, it's not easy to follow what I do to the letter, but if it means giving somebody the chance to do things differently, and maybe live their lives without feeling like there's no other place where they can go, then I wouldn't have to just-"
Her attention still held by the projected holograms, Lanfen pursed her dried lips when she subsequently recalled how there was indeed a point where Tachibana failed to abide by her beliefs. To extend a hand towards someone in spite of the sheer malice that threatened to snuff out her life. A point where Tachibana Hibiki willingly chose to kill.
"I thought nothing about it at first." Neither of them needed to state the identity of the deceased. They both knew his name well: Adam Weishaupt. "I told myself how he was just a monster like all the Noise. But a few years down the line-" Tachibana's words abruptly halted again. "A few years down the line, a part of me thought back on what I did. I thought back on what else could've been done, and wondered why I didn't try any harder." No hints of regret seemed to actually permeate the senior Adaptor's words. It was more akin to genuine bewilderment. "What's done is done, sure. 'No point in dwelling,' they say. Others often tell me that some people can't be reasoned with, too. But even so-"
Tachibana's defiant phrase resounded dimly this time.
"It's hard to believe in that sort of thinking, no matter how much I try."
Sensing the rare melancholy which drenched Tachibana's syllables, Lanfen habitually clicked her tongue, and settled the pocket-watch she held on top of the room table.
In complete silence, Lanfen reflected on the proverbial intersection that she currently stood on. She pondered on how everything surrounding Shinonome Aiko would finally begin to make sense if Aiko was truly the person who murdered Cynthia Jiang Kai-Ming. Their fateful meeting after the global attack. Aiko's pale-white skin and golden eyes. Her status as an Illuminati bio-experiment. Her enigmatic implant. The evidence had been right there in front of Lanfen this entire time, and the only reason she refused to acknowledge them was because the Adaptor couldn't fathom what she would be required to do afterwards. There was a laughable irony to it all. The woman who had pulled Lanfen from the depths of Hell turned out to be the very monster who casted her into the abyss from the very beginning.
It was a reality she had been turning a blind eye to. A truth she chose to deny up until now.
"Thank you, Tachibana," Lanfen muttered, finally panning her gaze until she could see the hopeful encouragement in Tachibana's pupils. "I... can't say for sure that I've figured it all out. But even so, the path in front of me feels clearer than before." Placing one hand on her hip in order to bolster her own confidence, Lanfen felt a proverbial fire flare within her only working eye, and decided that it was time to forever put the cinders to rest. "I guess there's nothing else for me to do now... but take my first step forward."
Tachibana Hibiki answered her junior's declaration by redonning a bright smile. "Whatever's going on, I just know that you'll make the right decision in the end, Jiang," she said, clearly holding back her curiosity about whatever prompted this conversation in the first place. "And also, thank you," Tachibana hastily added. "Thank you for coming to me, and asking for my help. Promise me that you'll do the same whenever you need to again, okay? Because if we're going to beat someone like Lancelot-" Visibly concerned by their latest, enigmatic foe from the stars, the chestnut-haired woman briefly trailed off. "If we're going to beat someone like Lancelot, you can't just do it all alone."
The idea of relying on the other Adaptors only reignited the sense that Lanfen was little more than a hindrance on their side. A foolish guinea pig who ended up giving their enemy everything they desired without anything in return. And yet, Lanfen answered Tachibana's words by holding up a tight, determined fist, mimicking the senior who was ironically just a few months younger than herself.
"I won't let you down, Tachibana. I promise."