[SCARLETT’S POV - Present Day, After Speaking with Shūi]
I closed the door to Shūi’s quarters and leaned against the corridor wall, my mother’s silver arm ring cold against my skin. That girl was lying through her perfect teeth, but proving it would be like catching smoke with bare hands. The tallic scent of blood still clung to my tactical gear from this morning’s crawler patrol—a reminder of the constant violence that had beco our reality.
The encounter triggered mories from before the world ended. The way Shūi calculated every micro-expression reminded of another ti, another place, when I was still learning to see through people’s masks...
---
[FLASHBACK - March 2057 - Two Months Before the Sunflare Scorch]
4:47 AM - Yamashiro Institute Dormitory, Tokyo
My internal clock woke three minutes before my alarm, as always. Through my window, Tokyo’s skyline glowed with pre-dawn light, a forest of glass and steel that never truly slept. I’d been here fourteen months now, long enough that the city’s rhythm had beco my own.
I rolled out of bed straight into push-ups. One hundred standard, fifty diamond, fifty pike. My muscles burned as I moved through the exercises, the defined lines of my abdon tightening with each repetition. The dormitory’s thin walls ant I could hear Kenji in the next room snoring, and Mikhail above pacing—probably cramming for his theoretical physics exam.
"Three languages before breakfast," I muttered in Danish, switching to Arabic for the diamond push-ups, then Japanese for the pike position. My mother’s rule, even though she’d been dead for four years now.
After push-ups ca the sword forms. My room was barely large enough, but I’d learned to adapt the movents to the space. The practice blade sang as I moved through Nordic patterns rged with the Japanese techniques I’d been learning here. Each movent was precise, a dance of violence I’d perfected since childhood.
A knock interrupted my routine. I checked the clock—5:23 AM. Who the hell—?
"Kendrick-san?" A voice called in accented English. "Security sweep."
Security sweeps didn’t happen at dawn. I grabbed the real blade hidden behind my dresser—a violation of dorm rules.
"One mont," I called back, positioning myself beside the door.
It opened to reveal two n in suits that scread at the governnt despite their attempt at looking casual. They’re Japanese, but they look like from an army.
"Miss Kendrick. We need you to co with us."
"Unless you have an authorization from Director Yamashiro, I’m not going anywhere."
The taller one produced a tablet showing clearance codes I recognized—my father’s diplomatic encryption.
"Your father requested we ensure your safety," he said carefully. "There have been... developnts."
"What kind of developnts?"
"The kind we can’t discuss in a dormitory hallway."
I studied them, there was no hostility or a dark intentions, but sothing was definitely wrong. "Five minutes to dress."
"Three."
I managed it in two.
---
7:00 AM - Yamashiro Institute, Underground Level C
They led to a part of campus I didn’t know existed. Three sub-basents down, through biotric scanners.
The room we entered looked like a fusion of boardroom and bunker. Director Yamashiro sat at the head of the table, along with several people I didn’t recognize and one I did—Professor Chen, my combat theory instructor.
"Miss Kendrick," the Director said. "Please, sit."
"Am I in trouble?"
"No. You’re being evaluated." He gestured to the others. "This is a preliminary assessnt committee for a special program."
"What program?"
"One that doesn’t officially exist yet." A woman with severe features and a lab coat spoke up. "Tell , Miss Kendrick, what would you do if you knew the world was going to end?"
I paused, considering my words carefully. "I’d need more specifics. Nuclear war? Pandemic? Asteroid?"
"Solar event. Complete infrastructure collapse. Ninety percent of population loss within the first year."
I kept my face neutral despite my racing pulse. "I’d ensure genetic diversity preservation, knowledge retention, and establish sustainable settlents for survivors."
"And if you could only save a limited number of people?"
"I’d prioritize based on genetic diversity, essential skills, psychological resilience, and age demographics suitable for rebuilding."
They exchanged glances, clearly impressed by my analytical approach.
"Your psychological profile indicates you’d be willing to make hard choices," Professor Chen said. "But could you live with them?"
The weight of his question settled on . I thought of my mother, of the choices she’d made. "The dead don’t have the luxury of guilt," I replied. "Survivors do what’s necessary and process the trauma later."
"Even if it ant leaving billions to die?"
"You can’t save everyone. Trying to is how you save no one."
More glances. The woman made notes on her tablet.
"Hypothetically," Director Yamashiro said, "if such a program existed, would you volunteer?"
"Depends on the terms."
"Complete isolation from current life. No contact with family or friends. A commitnt that could last... indefinitely."
"To save humanity?" I t his eyes. "Yes."
They dismissed twenty minutes later with no explanation, just a warning not to discuss the eting with anyone.
---
12:30 PM - Yamashiro Institute Cafeteria
I sat alone, as usual, processing the morning’s strangeness. The cafeteria buzzed with typical lunch energy—students complaining about tests, gossiping about relationships, planning weekend trips to Shibuya.
None of them knew their world might be ending.
"You look like soone who’s seen a ghost."
I looked up to find Tadashi, one of the few students who could match in combat training. Half-Japanese, half-Nigerian, with a smile that could disarm opponents as effectively as his strikes.
"Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit." He sat without an invitation. "Spar later? I want to try sothing against your Nordic style."
"Sure."
He studied . "You know, Kendrick, you’re hard to read, but today you’re completely clouded. What happened?"
"Nothing I can talk about."
"Governnt stuff? Your dad’s so big diplomat, right?"
"Sothing like that."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping. "Look, I know we’re not friends exactly, but if you need soone to talk to—"
I almost broke then. Almost told him everything. But I couldn’t. "I don’t," I said, the words coming out harsher than intended. "Sorry. I just... I need to process it alone."
"Fair." He stood, but not before I saw the concern in his eyes. "But the offer stands. Even lone wolves need a pack sotis."
After he left, I wondered if I’d ever see him again after graduation. If there would even be a graduation.
---
3:00 PM - Combat Training Hall
The training hall was empty when I arrived, which was unusual. Most days, it was packed with students practicing various martial arts. Today, only a few third-years were sparring in the corner.
Perfect.
I moved to the center of the mat, drawing the twin practice blades I’d modified to match the weight and balance of my preferred Norse style. The familiar weight in my hands grounded , connecting to my mother’s training, to my heritage.
I began with basic forms—Nordic patterns rged with Japanese kenjutsu. My movents flowed like water. The blades sliced through the air, creating soft whistling sounds as I moved through increasingly complex sequences.
"Beautiful," a voice called from the entrance.
I didn’t stop, transitioning into an advanced combination that required spins, aerial maneuvers, and simultaneous strikes from both blades. Only when I completed the sequence, ending in a low crouch with both blades extended outward, did I look up.
Tadashi stood there, along with three other advanced students I recognized from the combat program.
"Kendrick-san," Tadashi said, bowing slightly. "That was incredible."
I straightened, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. "Just practicing."
"We’ve been watching for ten minutes," said Fubuki, a third-year known for his kenjutsu skills. "I’ve never seen anyone move like that."
"It’s a fusion style," I explained, falling into a relaxed stance. "Nordic berserker techniques adapted for modern combat."
"Show us," said another student, Chen Li. "Please?"
I considered for a mont, then nodded. "Stand back."
They moved to the edges of the mat as I centered myself. I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing, on the mories of my mother teaching these very movents. When I opened them, sothing had changed. My erald eyes had hardened, my expression set in a mask of concentration.
I began slowly, then built speed, moving through a complex kata that included throws, disarms, and simultaneous attacks against multiple imaginary opponents. The practice blades blurred in my hands, moving too fast for the eye to follow. At one point, I leaped into the air, spinning 360 degrees while striking in four directions before landing in a low crouch.
"Whoa," breathed Chen Li. "How did you—"
"The spin creates montum," I explained, rising smoothly. "The strikes are tid to coincide with specific points in the rotation. It maximizes force while minimizing telegraphing."
"Incredible," Tadashi said, his eyes wide. "Can you teach us?"
I smiled slightly. "So of it. But the full style... it takes years to master."
They begged for a demonstration against real opponents, and I finally agreed, on one condition.
"I’m not holding back," I said. "I need the practice too."
They ford a circle around , four of the best fighters in the advanced program. I stood in the center, my practice blades held loosely at my sides.
"Begin," I said.
They ca at simultaneously—Fubuki with a frontal assault, Chen Li circling to my left, Tadashi and the fourth student, Kimoshi, moved to flank .
I didn’t move until the last possible second. As Fubuki struck neared, I sidestepped, my right blade deflecting his attack while my left struck out at Kimoshi, forcing him back. Chen Li lunged, but I was already moving, dropping into a roll that brought behind Tadashi. My blade tapped his back—simulating a killing blow—before I spun to face Chen Li.
The fight lasted three minutes. By the end, all four were on the mat, gasping for breath, while I stood untouched in the center, barely sweating.
"How?" Fubuki asked, pushing himself up. "You moved faster than I could see."
"I just predicted your movents," I said, offering a hand to help him up. "I watch your eyes, your shoulders, your hips. They telegraph your movents before you make them."
"It’s like she’s reading our minds," Kimoshi said, shaking his head in awe.
"You just need to think two steps ahead," I corrected. "The human body can only move in certain ways. Learn those patterns, and you can predict almost any attack."
"That’s why they call you ’The Valkyrie’," Tadashi said, a grin spreading across his face. "You fight like the battle maidens of legend—deciding who lives and dies on the battlefield."
I hadn’t heard that nickna before, but I liked it. It honored my mother’s Norse heritage while acknowledging the deadly efficiency of my style.
---
8:00 PM - Video Call with Father
His face on my laptop screen looked haggard. Behind him, I could see the Danish Parliant building through his office window.
"How was your day?" he asked in Danish.
"Interesting. I had visitors this morning."
"I know. I authorized it."
"Dad, what’s going on?"
"I can’t say specifically. But changes are coming." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I need to know you’re prepared."
"For what?"
"For everything." He rubbed his eyes, looking older than I’d ever seen him. "Your mother would handle this better. She always knew how to explain the inexplicable things."
"Just tell the truth."
"The truth is that powerful people are making preparations for a catastrophe they hope won’t happen." He t my eyes through the screen. "And you want to volunteer?"
"I want you to survive. If that program is the best chance, then yes."
"What about you?"
"I have my own preparations. But Scarlett..." his voice cracked slightly, "if they offer you a spot, take it. Don’t hesitate."
"You’re scaring ."
"Sorry." He managed a weak smile. "I just want you to be safe. Your mother would be so proud of you."
"Proud of a paranoid Norse girl who can’t make normal friends?"
He laughed, but it sounded tired. "She’d be proud of the strong woman you’ve beco. Never forget that."
After we hung up, I stared at Tokyo’s lights through my window. Sowhere out there, committees were eting, planning, deciding who would live and who would die. And I was apparently on the list of those worth saving.
The thought should have been comforting. Instead, it felt like a weight settling on my shoulders.
[TO BE CONTINUED IN PART II]
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