January 25
While Xiangzi and Huaxiu were spending a warm, peaceful evening together, someone else was drowning in her own troubles.
Far to the east of the Japanese islands, across the Pacific—after more than a thousand nautical miles—the chain of islands scattered like pearls across the deep blue ocean came into view.
On Hawaii, inside a heavily guarded military restricted zone, an enormous underground fortress had been built beneath the surface, a sprawling complex like an anthill beneath the earth.
Inside one of its immaculate sterile labs, the room was packed with equipment. Bottles and jars sat all over the tables, filled with unknown liquids and biological samples.
The walls gleamed with cold silver-white metal. Harsh white lights blazed overhead. Ventilation fans and all manner of mysterious devices hummed in steady operation.
At the moment, only one person remained in the lab: a mature woman with a graceful figure. In front of her sat a culture dish under observation.
She dripped a highly caustic reagent into the dish. In the invisible world beneath the surface, the small, flesh-like filament inside began writhing and convulsing violently.
Then she adjusted the magnification. The microscope connected to the lab's main display, enlarging the minute activity and projecting it clearly before her eyes.
To a newcomer, it might have looked fascinating.
But after spending years dealing with this sort of thing, she had long since lost interest—especially once it became your job.
Her eyes were bloodshot, veined red from overuse.
She had forced them open with coffee, but now her eyelids were on the verge of mutiny. Even surrounded by virologists and biologists, even being one herself, she still hadn't found a cure for her own exhaustion.
Still, the body clock she had trained herself into over this stretch of time was enough to keep her going until she clocked out and returned to her quarters.
Even in the apocalypse, someone in her position was still living almost exactly the same kind of life as before.
Dormitory. Laboratory. Dormitory.
A neat line, back and forth.
"The Nth trial. This concentration finally provoked a significant response in the sample."
Sweat had begun beading across her skin, though the room itself was not warm. But she didn't dare remove her gloves or touch her mask just to wipe it away.
After another few dozen seconds, once the electronic microscope had been adjusted to a satisfactory setting, she began recording the results.
At the same time, she uploaded the digital copy to the terminal.
January 25, 2026Kuro virus enters dormancy once separated from a host. Within the viral body, inactive, dead Sumero virus tissue can be found, withered and attached.Final conclusion: [Not an independent virus. Must exist in symbiosis with Sumero.]
More of her neat handwriting filled the notebook in her hand. Letters flew across the page until the final stroke came down hard.
"Finally done. Night shift's over. Time to go sleep..."
She let out a breath of relief.
Then the electronic voice startled her.
"This is Operator 114. Researcher Chiyo, Supervisor Terada is requesting you."
The voice came from the laboratory's internal AI. Though really, this AI was split into so many separate instances that one had to wonder whether an artificial intelligence could develop multiple personalities. But she wasn't a computer scientist, and she wasn't a philosopher, so that problem wasn't hers to solve.
Hearing the voice from the speaker embedded in the wall, she calmly set down the report in her hands.
On the cover, her name was clearly written:
Kawano Chiyo.
Then she rose and hurried off with brisk, efficient steps.
To leave the lab, she had to pass through decontamination.
She moved into the first chamber. A shower of sterilizing solution rained over her protective suit, stripping away any trace of viral contamination. Then she passed into the second chamber, where she removed the bulky suit and peeled off the sterile gloves she had been wearing inside.
She tossed the gloves into the biohazard waste bin without ceremony. Broken glassware already littered the bottom of it.
The gloves could be discarded. The protective suit, however, had to be hung carefully on its designated rack. Once the door shut, mist sprayed down over it for sterilization.
Supplies were scarce even here. Many things had to be reused.
Even disposable glass containers were handled sparingly.
Once she stepped out of the lab, the corridor beyond was so spotless its pale walls could practically serve as mirrors.
In those shining surfaces, she could see the marks the suit had left all over her body.
She didn't care.
Though tired, she still moved quickly down the hall. It was almost empty now—most people had already gone off shift. Only a handful of workaholics ever remained in the labs this late.
Though in her own case, "workaholic" wasn't quite right.
She was being driven by necessity.
Once she reached the office, she found the door locked.
She pressed the call button beside it.
There was a click from inside.
The door opened.
A white-haired old man sat within.
This was her mentor, Terada Junpei.
He bore an unfortunate resemblance to someone from the Nasuverse: if one squinted, he looked rather like Kirei Kotomine's old man.
"Ah, Chiyo. You're finally here. Long day, hm? Sit for a while."
Seeing her mentor in such unusually high spirits at this hour, she couldn't help thinking his mental state had been a little odd lately. This late at night, and still so energetic.
"Thank you, Professor. Did you need something? If it's about the experiment, I already uploaded the data."
"It's not about the experiment. Though yes, it is another matter altogether. The request you submitted earlier—it's been approved."
The moment she heard that, the fatigue in her body was crushed beneath a surge of joy. She immediately bowed again and again.
"Thank you, Professor. Thank you so much."
"It wasn't me," Terada said. "Johnson Montesquieu was the one who pushed it through."
"Him? Why's he being so generous this time...?"
There had always been bad blood between Terada and Johnson. Chiyo knew that much.
"You little fool," Terada said with a dry laugh. "What kind of relationship do you think he and I have? If the two of us can meet without exchanging insults, that's already a miracle. He approved your transfer because pulling you away weakens my side. And besides, the situation in Japan is still unstable. No one else wants to go. You're the only one who volunteered for somewhere that dangerous..."
He trailed off, then finished the thought.
"All because of that adopted daughter of yours."
"But Professor," Kawano Chiyo said hurriedly, "they really do need more researchers over there. You can't go yourself. It's too dangerous. The others aren't as familiar with Japan as I am, and my father was American, so I can coordinate better with the U.S. forces stationed there. I'm the best person for this."
She had expected a stern rebuke.
Instead, Terada only sighed.
"I'm not blaming you. If my whole family weren't already here, I'd be trying to get back to Japan myself. I understand how you feel. All right. It's late. Get some sleep. Your flight is at eleven tomorrow morning. Make sure you're ready."
"Then I'll be going, Professor."
Terada waved her off.
Once the door shut behind her, the office was left with only the old man.
He stared at the corridor feed on his computer screen, his feelings a tangled mess.
That girl... you really do make people worry.
Kawano Chiyo, of course, knew none of this.
Once she got back to her room and shut the door, she launched herself onto the bed with one great leap.
Ever since the farewell in Tokyo, she had been stuck here.
The quarters were tiny: just two rooms, a bathroom, and a combined living space that served as bedroom, kitchen, and lounge all at once.
There was no sign of real life in it. Even after half a month, it still felt like nothing more than a place to sleep.
Home was elsewhere.
Where her family was.
She went to the wardrobe and began pulling clothes out, suddenly full of energy again. Her exhaustion vanished under sheer excitement as she started packing for the next day.
Once everything was prepared, she headed to the shower.
She wanted to face tomorrow in a fresh, clean state.
Stripped of every burden, she stood beneath the water. Cool droplets pattered over her body while she scrubbed away every trace of grime with almost reckless enthusiasm.
By the end, her skin was rubbed nearly pink.
Her long golden hair hung in wet strands.
Then came the bath.
When she emerged, the overhead light in the room had been switched off. Only the small lamp by the bed was still glowing.
Wrapped in the blanket, Kawano Chiyo reached for the pendant lying on the sponge-soft pillow beside her.
The one she always wore around her neck.
Inside the pendant was a picture of three people.
The blonde girl on the left was her.
The other two looked so alike that they had to be mother and daughter.
She gently traced the figure of the little girl in the center.
Short black hair. Golden eyes. Delicate face. Snow-pale skin.
It was unmistakably Takagi Xiangzi.
A wave of longing rose in her chest.
Then she picked up a piece of clothing lying nearby.
It clearly didn't fit her at all.
Still, she hugged it tight and buried her face in it, inhaling greedily.
By the time she finally lowered it, her cheeks were flushed, her expression one of shameless satisfaction.
The sight was almost alarming.
"Asaka-nee... Xiaoguang…"
The iron bed creaked against the floor.
And after that came a softer sound—
far more suggestive, and far harder to ignore.
Join here to read ahead.
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