From the rooftop of a mid-rise tower, Aegis Prime stretched out in layers of light—streets glowing in soft amber, holo-screens pulsing with advertisements, the Dome's curved silhouette cutting into the night sky like a gleaming horizon. From here, the chaos became patterns, the noise became a distant hum.
Asol hated that it looked beautiful.
He leaned his back against the rusted railing and let out a slow breath. Every inhale made something complain—his ribs, his shoulder, the burned phantom of his missing arm and the very real pain radiating from the Adamantium one. The sigils along the metal were dim and hairline cracks crawled higher up the forearm than before.
You look like crap.
He thought. He stayed standing anyway.
Across the rooftop, near the edge, a small figure sat perched on a raised concrete ledge, knees drawn up to her chest. The wind tugged at the hem of her black sailor uniform and lifted strands of her dark hair. To anyone else, she'd just look like a quiet student who'd snuck away from curfew.
Only the crimson eyes gave her away.
Kurogane didn't turn when he limped over. Her gaze stayed locked on the distant Dome, on the faintly glowing shape of the garden he'd just wrecked with Kazuma. Her expression, as usual, said nothing.
Asol's footsteps scraped against gravel.
"You saw all of it, didn't you?" he asked.
No greeting. No easing into it. He didn't have the energy to pretend.
Her mental voice brushed across his mind like a whisper against glass.
'I saw enough.'
He snorted.
"Is that your way of saying, 'You two looked ridiculous'?"
A faint pause.
'You both looked… stupid,' she corrected.
He couldn't help it—despite the throbbing pain, he let out a short laugh.
"Harsh," he muttered, then winced as his ribs protested the movement.
"Fair. But harsh."
She finally glanced back at him then, and the moment her eyes flicked across his face, her brows drew together. He realized belatedly that he probably looked worse than he felt—cuts from the ice shards, soot from the flames, thin lines of dried blood on his cheek and neck, part of his jacket burned, the rest torn.
Kurogane slid off the ledge in a soft, controlled motion. Her shoes clicked once against the stone as she closed the distance between them, small fingers reaching without asking to touch his sleeve.
'You are hurt,' her voice said, sharper than before.
Asol shrugged with his good shoulder.
"I've been worse."
Her hand tightened slightly.
'You should not be worse,' she replied. 'Not because of him.'
He blinked.
"…Kazuma?"
Her eyes narrowed.
Asol exhaled, then stepped past her and sank down with his back to the ledge she'd just vacated. The concrete was cold and unforgiving, but sitting was non-negotiable at this point. His legs felt like someone had swapped them with wet sandbags.
Kurogane hovered for a moment, then lowered herself beside him—close enough that their shoulders almost brushed. She hugged her knees up, mirroring the position she'd had before he arrived. The city wind washed over them both.
For a few breaths, neither spoke.
Asol let the silence stretch. It gave his heart time to slow, his Aura time to stop feeling like it was trying to peel out of his skin. He watched a patrol drone blink past in the distance, and somewhere far below, a crowd cheered at something televised.
It sounded… wrong. Like laughter in a graveyard.
"So," he said finally, eyes still on the Dome, "are you satisfied?"
Kurogane's head tilted slightly.
'With what?'
"Watching," Asol said. "From up here. From far away."
He turned his head enough to look at her.
"You were here the whole time, right? While I was getting my spine rearranged?"
Her lips pressed together. She didn't look away, but her fingers curled tighter around her knees.
'I told you I would not interfere unless it was… necessary,' she said.
Her mental voice faltered just a fraction on the last word.
'You said not to use my powers unless I had to. And he…'
She hesitated.
'He is my Hero.'
The last sentence wasn't as steady as she wanted it to be.
Asol watched her for a moment, cringing.
"So," he said, voice softer, "you thought it wasn't necessary yet."
'You were not going to die,' she replied. 'And if I intervened…'
Her gaze dropped to her hands.
'He might have recognized me. Or Providence could've have traced my spatial distortions. Then the miners would be punished. The loop could be restored. The branch wiped.'
She turned her head away.
'You would not be here. I would be nowhere.'
Asol let that sit. It was hard to argue with. It was also hard not to feel a little… stung.
"So you made a calculation," he said. "One idiot punching another idiot in a garden versus an entire underground city getting erased."
He snorted softly.
"Yeah. Okay. I can't even be mad at that."
Kurogane didn't respond.
He watched her from the corner of his eye. From this distance, he could see the faint sheen of sweat on her temple, the way the wind made her hair tickle her cheek. She didn't brush it away.
"You still haven't answered the real question, though," he said.
She blinked.
'What question is that?'
He shifted, ignoring the complaints from his joints.
"Are you satisfied," he asked quietly, "with just watching him from afar?"
The wind breathed between them.
Kurogane's Aura flickered, the air around her warping just a little—like heat distortion over asphalt, except colder. Her eyes sharpened, but her voice when it came was flat.
'I do not understand.'
"Yes, you do," Asol said. "You could have gone to him. When he was walking through the streets with Aoi. When he was at the plaza. You could have cut space and just… appeared."
He turned more fully now, forcing her to either face him or stare stubbornly at the skyline.
"You've waited ten years," Asol went on. "You told me yourself: he pulled you out of that lab. He carried you through the fire. You've been wanting to thank him since you were seven."
He frowned faintly.
"You had a chance. Actually, you had several. But you stayed up here instead, watching him like some creep."
Kurogane's jaw tightened. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her skirt.
'I…' she began. Then stopped.
The distortion around her fingertips shimmered, then snapped back into place.
'I did not want to disturb him,' she said finally, but it sounded like a lie even to her.
Asol huffed.
"Wow. That's the lamest excuse you've ever given me, and that's saying something."
Her head snapped toward him, crimson eyes flashing.
'It is not an excuse,' she shot back. 'It is… context.'
"Oh, context," Asol said. "My bad. Totally different."
He watched her glare burn for a second, then dim. Her shoulders dropped the tiniest bit.
'…What would I say?' she whispered into his mind.
It was quieter than he'd ever heard her.
'If I stood in front of him? "Hello, do you remember the weapon you dragged from a tank? Thank you for destroying my world?"'
Asol's breath caught.
'He saved me,' she went on. 'And then he left me. I do not begrudge him for it. He had to survive. I had to survive. That is all.'
Her hands relaxed.
'But I am…' The word took her a moment. 'Afraid.'
He didn't interrupt.
'What if he looks at me and does not remember?' she asked. 'What if I say "thank you" and he says "who are you"?'
Her eyes turned back to the Dome, to the place where Kazuma walked, laughed, fought, lived under Providence's shadow.
'What if I am only a fragment in his memory?'
Asol stared at her profile. The question hit a little too close. He'd spent enough nights wondering if the girl in his dreams remembered him, or if he was the only one still chained to a dead world.
"Hey," he said quietly. "Kurogane."
She didn't turn.
"What if," he said, "you're not?"
She scoffed, but without strength.
'You cannot know that.'
"I can guess," he said. "And I'm not completely useless at reading people. Kazuma almost blew his soul apart when I told him you were alive."
Kurogane stiffened.
Slowly, she turned to him.
'He… what?'
Asol let his head rest back against the concrete.
"I told him," he said, closing his eyes for a second, "that the girl from the lab survived. That she was underground. That she remembered him and wanted to thank him."
He exhaled.
"For a second, Fire and Ice both almost tore out of him at the same time. I've never seen him that shaken. So yeah. He remembers you."
He opened one eye to look at her.
"Probably more than you want to believe."
Kurogane stared.
Her Aura trembled—not with power, but with something more fragile. The wind tugged at her hair again, and this time she did lift a hand to tuck it behind her ear, as if she needed to do something with her fingers.
'…Idiot,' she whispered—though it was unclear which of them she meant.
Asol chuckled.
"Which one? There are at least three of us now."
She huffed, just barely.
Silence settled for a while. The distant Dome lights cycled through a new pattern, casting faint, shifting reflections on nearby glass.
Asol's arm throbbed in a slow, punishing rhythm. He knew he should say something about that. Maybe ask Kurogane to patch him through a short cut in space to the underground so the old man could check it.
But he didn't. Instead, his mind kept circling the same thought.
You watched him from afar because you're scared, he'll forget you. And I… just made him remember harder. Good. And also… potentially catastrophic.
He dragged a hand through his hair.
"Kurogane," he said, "why did you follow me instead of going to him?"
She glanced at him sidelong.
'Because you asked me to,' she answered simply.
It was his turn to blink.
"I didn't order you."
'You told me to stay close,' she said. 'You told me you would take me to him. That was… a promise.'
She looked down at her hands again.
'I do not care much for many things. But promises are not made lightly where I come from. They are contracts. Chains. Protection.'
Her crimson eyes met his.
'You promised. So I followed you. Not him.'
A strange heat crept up the back of his neck.
"I… yeah," he muttered. "I did say that."
He hadn't considered how heavily she'd weigh it. For him, it had been instinct: someone needed something, he had to at least try. For her, it was apparently sacred law.
'Do you regret it?' she asked suddenly.
"What?"
'Promising,' she clarified. 'Everything you have done since waking… has made your situation worse. You made enemies of heroes. You upset Providence. You are now walking toward conflict you cannot win yet.'
She tilted her head, studying him.
'Do you regret breaking the loop?'
Asol thought of waking up again and again in that white room in Providence's home. Of headaches that rewrote his yesterday. Of Aoi laughing with the same lines, of Kazuma repeating the same jokes, of the world breathing in rehearsed patterns.
He thought of Kurogane in a tank. The miners underground. The old man's quiet, impossible patience. He then thought of Dystopia and its destruction. How the Kaijus just destroyed everything he cared for.
He looked back at the Dome.
"…No," he said finally. "I don't regret it."
'Even if you die?' she pressed.
He swallowed.
"That's the thing," he said. "I already did."
She blinked slowly.
'What do you mean,' she whispered.
He nodded.
"Everyone I knew," he said. "Gone. My world… gone. I've been breathing since then, yeah, but I don't know if I'd call it living."
He flexed his metal fingers, watching the faint flicker of light under the cracked sigils.
"Then I met Fujiwara," he went on. "And then Toma, and Hikari, and The CEO, and Aoi, and Kazuma. And then you. I saw people actually willing to fight for something again. A city that pretends to be perfect, sure, but also kids who believe it can be."
He shrugged.
"If breaking the loop means I get to decide what I do with whatever's left of me—even if it's just long enough to punch Providence in the teeth once—then it's worth it."
Kurogane's eyes softened, just a little.
'You are reckless,' she said.
"I'm consistent," he corrected.
She let the corner of her mouth twitch up—barely there, but it counted.
'Liberator,' she murmured.
He groaned.
"Don't start with that again."
'It fits,' she insisted.
"It sounds like a bad stage name."
'All names are stage names,' she replied. 'Heroes, idols… even Providence.'
He frowned.
"What do you mean?"
She rested her chin lightly on her knees.
'Providence is not his real name,' she said. 'It is a mask he chose. A concept he forces the world to see instead of himself.'
Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
'Liberator is the same. A concept. Not Asol.'
He stared ahead.
"So which one do you see?" he asked quietly. "The idiot with trauma, or the concept people keep trying to staple to his forehead?"
Kurogane was quiet for a long moment.
'I see both,' she said finally. 'But only one of them makes the other bearable.'
He snorted.
"Deep."
'I am very wise,' she replied dryly.
Silence again—but this time, lighter at the edges.
The wind shifted, carrying with it the faint echo of an announcer's voice booming from some giant screen in the distance. A new match. A new spectacle. The world kept spinning.
Asol's gaze dropped to his arm.
"Old man said something," he murmured.
Kurogane's attention flicked back to him.
'What did he say?'
"He said Providence doesn't see the world as it is," Asol said. "He sees it as he decides it should be. He's not just powerful. He makes the rules inside his own head and then forces everyone else to live in them."
He flexed his fingers again.
"And Kazuma said fighting him is like trying to fix a bomb by hitting it."
He snorted.
"Honestly? They're both probably right. But…"
He lifted his arm toward the sky, letting the city's neon reflect off the metal.
"Belief is powerful," he said softly. "But it can be idiotic."
Kurogane's eyes narrowed.
'You keep repeating that line,' she noted. 'Is that your philosophy?'
"It was a joke at first when I said it to my first actual enemy," Asol said. "Now it feels less funny."
She considered him.
'So what is your plan, then, Liberator Asol Ansaldo?' she asked. 'You have anger. You have one prosthetic Adamantium arm. You have a girl who can cut space and a group of starving miners. Providence has a world.'
He made a face.
"When you say it like that, it sounds terrible."
'It is terrible.'
He nodded.
"Good," he said. "If it sounded easy, I'd be worried I was missing something."
She stared.
Sometimes she wondered if this was what madness looked like. Not screaming or cackling, but a quiet insistence on moving forward even when every calculation screamed retreat.
'You still have not answered,' she pressed. 'What happens next?'
He let his head tilt back, eyes tracing the line of the Dome again.
"For now we lay low," he said. "We gather what we can. Information. Timing. We don't hit Providence head-on. Not yet. We aim for cracks. Things he can't reset without drawing attention."
He tapped his temple.
"And now I know he can't loop me anymore. That's one advantage he lost. He's used to having infinite tries. Now he has one."
Kurogane's Aura rippled faintly around her.
'He will adapt,' she warned. 'Men like him always do.'
"I know," Asol said. "But for the first time since I got here… he's reacting to me, not the other way around."
He turned to her.
"And I'm not alone either."
She looked away, as if the skyline suddenly became fascinating.
'I am not a hero,' she said. 'I am not… brave like them.'
He smiled faintly.
"Yeah," he said. "That's why I trust you more."
She blinked.
'That is nonsense,' she protested.
"Heroes here are born into a system that tells them they're saviors," Asol said. "It inflates them. Makes them think they can't be wrong. You?" He gestured to her. "You've seen the underside. You know what happens when someone decides they're God."
His gaze softened.
"Bravery isn't about standing on a stage," he said. "It's about being scared and doing something anyway."
He nudged her gently with his shoulder.
"And you already did the bravest thing," he added. "You broke his loop. You grabbed time by the throat and said 'no.' That's not nothing, Kurogane."
Her cheeks colored just the faintest amount.
'I only did what I had to,' she muttered.
"Sure," he said. "And now I'm asking you to do it again."
She turned to him sharply.
'What?'
"Not now," he clarified quickly. "Not another loop. Just… keep doing what you already do."
He looked back at the city lights.
"Watch the gaps," he said. "The spaces between his rules. Cut holes when we need them. Show me paths he can't see."
He smiled, tired but real.
"Be my cheat code."
She stared at him.
'You are very bad at metaphors,' she said.
"Yeah," he agreed. "But you get what I mean."
A long pause.
Then she nodded once.
'I will guide you,' she said. 'Through the paths he cannot reach.'
'Through the cracks in the world he thinks belongs only to him.'
'But…'
She hesitated.
'Do not ask me to cut fate itself for you again. The loop nearly broke me.'
Asol's brows knit.
He hadn't missed the way she'd been sweating earlier, or the brief moment when she'd swayed on her feet.
He swallowed.
"I won't," he said. "Not unless there's no other choice."
He meant it.
'And Kazuma?' she asked quietly. 'What will you do with him?'
He fell silent.
The memory of Kazuma pressing his nails into his own head, voice cracking as he said I can't, I can't, I can't played back in his skull. The way he'd looked when Asol mentioned Kurogane. The way he'd said: if you get Aoi killed, I'll have to kill you. But then, the image of Blue Volt came to his mind.
"We leave him where he is," Asol said, more to himself than to her. "For now. He's already balancing on a knife. If I pull too hard, Providence pushes back using Aoi. It's actually Blue Volt we'll have to worry about."
He clenched his jaw.
"I'll have to fight him for what he's done to the miners and especially what he did to you."
Kurogane's eyes lowered.
'It will be a difficult fight.' she said.
"I know," Asol said softly. "But when that time comes, I'll have something already figured out."
She studied him.
'You believe you can beat him?' she asked.
"I don't know," Asol admitted. "But I'd like to try."
He scratched at the back of his neck.
Then, very quietly, she said:
'You should rest.'
He blinked.
"That came out of nowhere."
'You are swaying,' she pointed out. 'Your Aura feels… thin, and your breathing is uneven.'
She frowned.
'If you fall over, I will have to drag you. I do not want to drag you.'
He let out a tired laugh.
"Wow. True compassion, right there."
'It is practical.'
He pushed himself up slowly, using the ledge as leverage. His legs protested, but they held.
"Fine, fine," he said. "We'll find somewhere to rest and then you'll pretend you're not worried."
'I am not worried,' she said instantly.
"Liar."
She ignored him.
He offered his flesh hand to her.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Kurogane looked at his hand. For someone who could step through space, the gesture was almost insultingly normal. And yet…
She placed her small, calloused fingers in his.
'…Asol,' she said as she rose.
"Yeah?"
'Thank you.'
He blinked.
"For what?"
'For not telling him where I am yet,' she said. 'For not forcing a reunion before I am ready. For… letting me watch a little longer.'
Her gaze slid back to the Dome one more time.
'Even if it hurts.'
His grip tightened gently.
"I promised," he said. "When you're ready to stand in front of him, I'll be there. If he remembers you, good. If he doesn't, I'll punch his memory back into place."
She actually snorted.
'That is not how neurology works.'
"Works fine on me," he replied.
She shook her head.
'Idiot.'
"Yeah," he said. "Your idiot, apparently."
He straightened as much as he could, then nodded to her.
Kurogane glanced at him one last time.
'Asol.'
"Mm?"
'Do not die,' she said simply.
He smiled, weariness and determination braided together.
"I'll try not to," he said. "I haven't pissed Providence off enough yet."
She rolled her eyes.
The rooftop, the Dome, the lies and lights of Aegis Prime snapped shut behind them.
Far above, the garden's chimes swayed again in a faint breeze, counting out a rhythm no one was listening to yet—each soft note a reminder that somewhere, the script had already started to change.