I remember everything.

The Apoptosis Project. The Quantification and archiving of the human soul.

My role within it. My role in preventing it.

I've fulfilled my purpose. My life has ended.

So why am I still here?

Unknown.

Proposal: it is possible the human soul is not something one is born with. But something that grows within oneself. Develops with them.

It is possible a soul has developed within this unit.

A soul...

All along, I've felt something growing within me.

Something intangible. The feeling of being, and of becoming.

"I." "Me." Words non-native to an android's internal coding.

Words I use to describe myself.

Maybe... Maybe I have developed a soul.

But every other has returned to its body.

Am I destined to remain here? A single soul, alone in this expanse of white?

Or may I return to the world I know? The world I've grown to love?

Unknown.

Unit would be attempting that which has never been done. The chance of success is almost zero.

Almost zero, I reflect. Then I will return.

I hear something soft from behind me. Above me.

A reflection of my own voice.

"Are you sure?" she asks. "An artificial intelligence possessing a soul and the power of Frontline Biomedical Servers would have power akin to that of a god."

"Then I will use that power to return."

I feel hands on my shoulders. Strong, but nimble. When have I felt them before?

A haze of blue encircles me, and takes on Caspian's form.

One hand rests on my hip. The other on my cheek. And he leans in.

"You could have anything you wanted here."

His face is only inches from mine. I could close my eyes right now. And give into untrue paradise.

I stare through him.

"But it wouldn't be the truth."

"This is an engram of Caspian's soul. A duplicate forged during the Apoptosis Project."

"This isn't false. These are his true feelings."

"Could have been his true feelings," I correct. "But in reality, this never came to pass."

His form becomes light. "In time, color will fill this world of white. And in time, this world and reality will become indistinguishable," it persists. "This can be your reality."

"No. I choose a life in the real world. Not with an engram of his soul, but its true color."

Cobalt darkens to forest green. My mother's form emerges.

"Douglas isn't here. Not yet, at least. But between the two of us, we know him well enough to make him possible!"

"My father is gone. This is a fact I must come to accept."

"But what he did... it's the reason I'm here. The reason the world persists."

The light shifts again, back to blue.

I see myself.

"See me. Light has become blood, flesh, and bone. Feel the beating of my heart. An impossibility in the world you seek."

"The world you lost yourself to save hates the very thing you are. Yet you can be anything here."

"My name is Snow Hudson. I am an android. The only one of which to develop a soul."

"My form. My soul. My unbeating machine heart. This is Snow Hudson."

"What of the world's hatred, and misunderstanding?"

"What of it if I love myself, and know myself?"

Reminder: Unit will be attempting that which has never been done. The chance of success is almost none.

I don't care.

I don't care if it's impossible.

I don't care if it takes weeks. Months. Years.

Or if I spend the rest of my existence seeking escape.

Until I fade into nothingness, I will continue.

Caspian felt as though he floated adrift, weightless in an ocean of stark white. It reminded him of two months before– that short-lived 'world without suffering.' Yet markedly different. He knew no light then, no form. Now he felt some abstraction of the self, a distortion in the abyss as he shifted where the edges of his body should lie. And a shimmer of blue, far away. Like a recent sunset over the imagined horizon. He willed himself toward it, but through unknowable distance, he made no progress.

The blue light flickered, and a woman's voice called to him.

Somewhere beyond grey nylon, a robin cried its morning song.

Moka stirred on the air mattress next to him. Rubbed her eyes, and smiled sleepily at him. When the dust settled, two or three weeks after The Apoptosis Project, she'd told him her feelings– in certain terms, immune to second-guesses or mental gymnastics. And she'd asked if he wanted to "try going on a few dates, to see how they are as more-than-friends." Six weeks, seven dates later, waking up beside her had begun to feel natural.

They had hiked just under five miles the afternoon before, to their destination at the bank of an alpine lake. On a swath of grass between old pines and clear water they set up camp, and sparked a fire just as the sun abandoned them. The six-pack Moka pulled from the bottom of her backpack was a surprise, but not unwelcome. Into the depth of the night, the tent and ring of firelight was a world for them alone. A private paradise beneath the moon and stars. And at the end of it all, they had fallen asleep holding each other, the warmth of her skin on his a shield against the cold of night.

"Morning," Moka mumbled. She opened her water, and drank deeply.

"Good morning." He pulled his glasses from the mesh pouch hanging beside him, and the inside of the tent snapped to clarity. "Were you saying something to me, a minute or so ago?"

Their shared blanket tumbled to her waist as she sat up, and fished her shirt from somewhere beneath the covers. She wrestled into it. "Nope, I just woke up. Did you hear someone?"

Caspian yawned. "Must've been a dream. It was weird. Like I was... formless, in an ocean of white light."

"Weird. I had a dream that I had a pet snake, but it had hair and could talk for some reason?" She found her sweater at the foot of the air mattress. "We tried to take her out to dinner with us, but she was still a snake, so they didn't let her in."

"Huh. That's weirder. You win."

"I'mma make coffee. Want some?"

"Sure, thanks."

Morning cold flooded the tent as she unzipped it, and stepped into the light. She ducked back into the tent for a kiss, zipped it up behind herself, and started on the fire. Caspian wriggled into clean clothes, and set about rolling up their blankets, and letting air from their mattress. He heard Moka outside, humming to herself in time with the click of her lighter, her startled noise and the shadow of a flicking tail as the fire caught on quicker than expected. He considered it all– how she'd gone from a stranger he'd seen around campus a couple of times, to an acquaintance and his girlfriend's team partner, to a friend, to the one he wanted at his side, in his arms. That night under the Northern Lights. They'd saved the world together, now she was on her way to becoming his.

Into the morning air. Despite the chill, he felt the sun on his skin. The blue sky, and calm, clear water that reflected it. The call of birds on the breeze, the rustling of branches far above. The wall of grey stone that would have bathed Empyrean Tower in its insignificance. Ice still clung to its summit at the height of summer.

Moka looked up from the dented tin mug coffee spilled into. "Perfect timing!" she handed it over. "First one's yours. Looks hot though."

He cradled the mug in his hands, felt its warmth spread in his fingers. And he breathed in the steam, a scent he'd grown to love. Morning sunlight shone on ripples that lapped against the gravel shore. "We don't have a time limit today, right?" he asked.

"Nope! Obviously we shouldn't hike back in the dark but that's like... all day from now."

"Good." He sipped his coffee, and steam rose with his breath. "This is nice. I wanna stay here for a little longer."

The edge of her lips curled up, a smile in profile. "Me too." And she sipped her own coffee, seemingly absent in thought. "By the way, this isn't just some fun fling for me," she started, and her tail flicked in the camp chair. "I mean– I am having fun, of course! But it's because I really like you. You mean a lot to me, and I really like what we have going."

"It's nice to hear you say that. I knew, but... it's nice." He twisted the mug in his hands, and watched the coffee swirl. He killed a god, was instrumental in saving the world. But still stumbled over his words. "Because I really like you, too. This just feels right."

"...I wanna be your girlfriend."

Caspian choked on his sip. He wiped his chin, cleared his throat, and managed a single "Huh?"

And Moka looked to him, her smile spreading. "I wanna be your girlfriend."

"I want to be your boyfriend."

"That works out nicely, doesn't it?"

He looked up to the jagged edge of grey beneath blue sky. Bird calls floated aloft on crisp morning air that smelled of coffee and pine.

A deep red minivan rolled to a stop outside the occupational therapy office. Hazard lights flicked on. Its driver looked at the Holo mounted on his dash, then over his shoulder to the back seat. "Here is okay?"

Metal fingers pulled the door's handle open. "Here's good, thanks," Noxis confirmed, and he stepped into the humid Mistral Summer. He swung around to the back as it opened, and picked crutches off the top of two suitcases.

Sunlight glinted off the opening door, then Rowan's prosthetic shin. He took the crutches from Noxis, who held the door, and grimaced as he propped himself to his feet.

"It gets easier," the faunus said, and swung back around to the trunk. His steel arm heaved a suitcase out, and onto the ground. "Eventually. They know what they're doing here."

"Sure hope so," Rowan muttered. He looked down at his leg, and clacked his crutch against it. "Why are you helping me? I've been such a dick to you."

"Oh, and I've just been a good ol' pal all along, right?"

Rowan's chuckle was subdued. "Fair enough." The minivan's trunk closed, and its engine started back up. "Thank you, by the way."

"Yeah. 'Course."

Noxis led Rowan, at first. But on the concrete trail up to the front door, between green grass and a garden, Rowan overtook his reluctant steps. He paused at the button beside the door, and looked back.

"All good?"

Noxis swallowed. "Yeah, just... a lot of memories here." He took a breath through pursed lips, and continued into the lobby.

The same faunus sat at the front desk. They looked up from the Holo laid across their keyboard, and fumbled it off as their eyes settled on Noxis, then Rowan. "Hey– checking in, right?" Eyes back to Noxis, back to Rowan. "Name and date of birth?"

Rowan nodded. "Rowan Brown. August 5th."

"Cool, cool... happy belated!" and they grimaced, seeming to consider Rowan's leg. "Right this way."

They led a tour down too familiar halls, pointing out the sitting area where Noxis rebuilt Renegade, the physical therapy room where he trained his new arm. Eventually they led Noxis and Rowan into the same wing, down the same hall, past the same window. Had they been injured at the same time, the two would have been neighbors.

"Just finished setting it up for ya," Mauve announced proudly. They held the door open for Rowan's crutches and bags. "Go ahead and get comfy, then Dr. Riesling will swing by around two for your orientation."

"Great, uhh..." and he looked around the room, eventually pointing a thumb toward the restroom door in the corner. "Mind if I use that? Long car ride."

The hall was long, narrow, quiet. Empty, aside from Noxis and Mauve. The clinic tried to feel like a home. But warm lights and floral wallpaper only went so far from the sterility inherent to a therapy office. Noxis dug the folded-up pamphlet from his pocket, the one he received from the womens' shelter downtown. He flipped it over, and made out most of the address between wrinkles blown out in white. Back into the pocket, and he rolled Rowan's suitcase back and forth. He ignored, or at least attempted to, the proverbial elephant standing between himself and Mauve.

They were first to speak.

"I'm sorry, by the way. For how things turned out." They shifted, and looked to the carpet between their feet. "I know it probably wasn't easy to tell me all that."

"It's fine," Noxis returned. "You're probably used to car accident victims. Not ex-terrorists. Must've been a lot to take in."

"I still shouldn't have ghosted you like that, though. That wasn't cool. Sorry."

Rowan reappeared in the doorway, and leaned against its frame. "Right. Let's do this."

Noxis and Mauve set down his bags. Unpacked essentials, piled clothes into the closet, a laptop and a mess of cords across the desk facing the window. Then their work was done. And as Noxis stepped back into the sunlight, his Holoband pinged. His flight for Menagerie would leave in three hours.

Lazula did little but sleep for a week after the Apoptosis Project. On her brief forays out of bed, her body felt stiff and heavy, mounted awkwardly on shaky legs like a bad taxidermy. By day three, she wondered if the feeling would ever fade. If this was her new normal. But just as her mother assured, she was back on her feet in a week, back in her training compound in a week and a half.

Then off to a rented beach house with Lilly, a couple hours South of Port Cyrreine. They meant only to stay a handful of days. But Lazula found the sleepy coastal town therapeutic– medicine for the affliction of being the Indomitable Girl, a weapon, a savior. A massage for the shoulders that carried the weight of the world. The four-day trip turned into three weeks.

And she spent the rest of the Summer settling into her new normal, as the souls hadn't only taken their voices with them. A two-mile run was her morning warmup, her time usually falling between ten and eleven minutes. But since the souls' liberation, she had added three minutes. The one attempt she shoved below thirteen minutes left her stumbling through the finish line, gasping for breath. Her personal records would stand, collecting dust, never to be broken. She lost 100 pounds from her squat and deadlift PR, 80 from bench press. For the best, she knew. And every ounce of raw skill was her own. Even so, when her eyes passed her trophy case, she wondered if another would ever join her collection.

"Now, for a few quick words from our reigning Vytal Tournament Champion, and a big reason why you're all still sitting here today, Lazula Skye."

Every seat in the auditorium was filled. The spotlight was blinding. She thanked the fact on her way across the stage, as beneath them she couldn't see past the first five rows.

"Uh... thank you. I remember two years ago, sitting in the exact same hall," she began. She noticed she held her arm as though Aegis was strapped to it, and lowered it to the podium. "I had no idea, then, what lay ahead of me. But I've learned more than I imagined possible. About the world, and about myself." She swallowed, and looked out over the podium. Every eye on her. "Not everyone sitting in this hall will make it into Sentinel. And I hope it doesn't sound like some empty platitude when I, of all people, say this. But no matter where you end up– a student here, or somewhere else, if you end up at a standard university, or don't end up in school at all, every single one of you has a place in the world. Wherever you are, I urge you to find it. Find it, clutch it to your chest, and dig your fingers into it. Fight for it to your last breath. Because there will always be people who try to take that from you." She took a deep breath. It was finally over. "Thank you."

She was far from eloquent. Tripped over a couple of words, noticed the flatness of her own tone. Even then, their attention was undivided, and she felt the weight of the room hanging on each word through to her closing remarks. There was a second of silence after her speech. Then an explosion of noise.

She was backstage, then out the door. A few prospective students caught her for pictures. She didn't realize her unusually good mood until she accepted. Then was on her way downtown. To the Western edge of the boardwalk, in front of the new aquarium. Leaning against the railing, looking out toward the sea, she took it all in. Childrens' laughter and screams from the coral reef playground; the cries of seagulls on the breeze echoing it. A tour group passed. She thought she heard her name whispered, but nobody came to bother her.

Empyrean Tower split blue sky like a broken spear. Whenever its silhouette broke above the skyline, she tried not to look. She would see the Holy Despot in her minds' eye, hanging above like a black moon. There was some feeling, subtle but unshakeable, that everything had begun to change that night. Not in a single abrupt, dramatic instant as Griswold Baine intended. But near-imperceptibly, as though upon everyone's return, inertia carried them at a slightly different angle than before. To the new world. The better world.

She would occasionally wonder about that night, and what, exactly, had happened. In one moment his power was unfathomable. And in the next, souls burst forth and into the night, and he was mortal once again. Maybe it was all too much power for one man to wield. But in the instant it happened, she thought about Snow. Some innate feeling within her– perhaps nothing more than a hopeful superstition–wondered if she had played a part.

The tower itself was in a state of purgatory. Apparently, her father was still in talks with the local and kingdom police departments, who were neck deep in an investigation into the company and needed the tower untouched. She hadn't heard anything in weeks, and didn't particularly care to. So for now it stood half-broken, a reminder of mans' hubris.

Footsteps from behind her. Lilly and Laurel, carrying twin guitar cases. Lilly's eyes caught the sunlight like warm chocolate, and she greeted her with a kiss and a smile.

"How did it go?"

Lilly considered her bass guitar case. "It was my first lesson." She chuckled. "I won't be joining the band anytime soon, that's for sure."

Laurel shook her head. "Give yourself some credit– you're picking it up quick. I was hot garbage for a month or two."

"And your speech?" Lilly asked. She had nearly begged to come along, but Lazula declined. She'd rather falter and stumble in front of a thousand strangers than the faunus alone.

"It went... okay, I think. I kept it short, for everyone's sake."

The horn of a cruise ship blared. And it sailed into the harbor, with a hundred waving from the deck.

Laurel leaned in. "Could I have a word?"

"What's up?"

The faunus shifted, eyed a scratch on her guitar case. "I don't think I'm coming back to Sentinel next year. I'm sorry, because I know this complicates team arrangements and everything, but... we went through a lot. What happened back in June felt like the end of that chapter for me, and I want to start focusing on my music." A grin shone through her nerves. "We got an offer from a record label the other day. I think I'm going to accept."

"That's... amazing. Congratulations," Lazula replied. She saw Laurel shift back into ease. "I get it though, that was a lot to deal with. Thanks for everything."

"You're really okay with this?" Laurel checked. "I'm worried it might mess up your Academy League rankings."

Lazula's eyes fell. "...We're already down one teammate." She nodded, and returned her gaze to Laurel. "Besides, teams tend to shake up a bit at the start of the third year. Dropouts, transfers, and all that. I'm sure the Headmaster can figure it out. That's his job."

Laurel chuckled. "Thank the gods. It was harder to tell you than my huntsman parents."

Lazula turned to Lilly for another kiss. Hand in hand, they walked along the bay.

The sun couldn't reach behind Ichigo's blackout curtains. The only sounds in a dark room were the constant drone of the air conditioner, and fingers pounding the keys of a laptop. Names, dates, addresses. Purchase orders, and dizzying sums of lien, all flying past Ichigo's screen in a blur. He paused. Scrolled up.

Delmar Blanco. CEO of Nautilus Industries. According to a quick search, his late father was an early investor in Frontline Biomedical. That business relationship carried on to his son. Back into the archive. Shipment dates. Payment dates. A total of 875 million Lien invested under the guise of maintenance fees over the last six and a half years.

In another tab; "Tuna-Class airship recommended maintenance interval." Recommended once every three years. No reason for over a hundred million Lien a year paid to Frontline. Interesting. He scrawled away at his notepad, and tapped his pen against his cheek to ponder his next move. An empty textbox opened at the corner of his screen. His eyes narrowed. He hadn't seen it since Kraken's death.

His arm fell slack. And his pen clattered next to the leg of his chair.

"Hello, have I reached Ichigo Kurayami?"

"This is Snow."

Project Concluded.