At 9:40 PM, Qiluo unbuttoned the last button of her convenience store uniform, changed into her own coat, and clocked out of work.
She wondered how the other three were feeling right now. Although they had been laughing and joking in the group chat, they were probably still hurting inside.
Qiluo routinely ducked into a small alleyway and transformed into Lightweaver.
What was going on? She was getting more and more used to transforming. It was probably the world's correction at work.
The chalk writing on the wooden sign hanging from the iron door had been updated today. Below the wing pattern, a new line of small text read: “22 Hours Until Debut.”
Bracing herself, she pushed open the iron door. The basement was uncharacteristically quiet.
Empty bags of potato chips and a few drained soda cans were scattered across the coffee table. A laptop was left half-closed, its power cord snaking messily under the sofa. The room was still warm, but the people who had filled it with chatter were all out cold.
Kohinata was slumped right in the middle of the sofa, clutching a crumpled, handwritten banner in her arms. One of her slippers had fallen off, while the other dangled precariously from her toes. Amamiya slept beside her, curled up like a shrimp with Night Sakura's mask covering her face—Night Sakura had probably taken it off and plopped it right on her.
Night Sakura herself was sprawled over the edge of the coffee table, her cheek pressed against the laptop keys.
An open notebook lay beside the keyboard. It was filled with her handwriting, which Qiluo could recognize without even getting close.
Below was a long list of potential questions from viewers, with notes next to each one outlining how they should answer.
The very last line read: “What if we get asked about Meruru?” Next to it was an arrow pointing to the response: “Meruru is our idol too...”
The rest was obscured beneath Night Sakura's head.
Further down the coffee table, a phone screen was still glowing. It was open to the comment section of the Wings of Freedom's debut announcement. The latest reply was written by Night Sakura: “Thank you for the support! Please tune in this Saturday night!” It had been sent half an hour ago.
New comments had flooded in since then, but Night Sakura had likely collapsed mid-reply.
Standing by the sofa, Qiluo looked down at her three teammates sleeping in a tangled pile, with only one thought in her mind.
She had spent the entire afternoon worrying that they would be devastated, but it turned out she was the only one who had taken it hard.
“They've been through much worse than this. Being rejected by the Association is the least of it,” Misa Tachibana said, wheeling herself over to the coffee table. “What they're most worried about right now isn't the viewership. They're afraid that after seeing Meruru's announcement, you'll think this organization has no future and won't show up tomorrow.”
Qiluo picked up the blanket that had fallen to the floor and gently draped it over Kohinata's bare ankles. It was better than letting her catch a chill.
She then walked over to the coffee table, straightened Night Sakura's laptop, and plugged the power cord back in.
Sleeping face-down on a keyboard couldn't be comfortable. Shaking her head helplessly, Qiluo leaned down to scoop her up.
She lifted Night Sakura in her arms. This girl, who usually bounced around the battlefield and chattered endlessly in the comms channel, was so light that Qiluo was momentarily taken aback. Through her clothes, Qiluo could feel the outline of her ribs, and her shoulders pressed sharply against her hands, like a curled-up, sleeping bird.
How was she so light? Where did all the takoyaki and milk tea she consumed every day even go?
Come to think of it, she didn't actually know the ages of these three, though they were probably only a year or two younger than her.
She laid Night Sakura flat on the sofa, pulled out the folded light blanket from under the coffee table, shook it open, and draped it over her.
Night Sakura rolled over in her sleep, burying her face in the gap between the sofa cushions. She mumbled a few incoherent words, too quiet to make out.
Qiluo had to lean down and press her ear close to catch a few scattered words: “viewership,” “guaranteed win,” and “wait until she gets here.”
Wait for her? Did she mean me?
“She almost woke up when you carried her,” Amamiya's voice drifted over, thick and raspy with sleep.
She took Night Sakura's mask off her face, set it on the coffee table, and closed her eyes again. “Night Sakura is a light sleeper and has trouble sleeping in unfamiliar places. She's slept less than eight hours in total over the last two days preparing for the livestream. Tonight, she finally hit her limit and passed out on the keyboard. She was stubbornly trying to stay up and wait for you, but she only agreed to close her eyes after I promised her you'd definitely come after work.”
Amamiya paused, hugging her cushion tighter.
“She left the door unlocked on purpose. She said it would be bad if you came by tonight and couldn't get in.”
“Before you arrived...” Kohinata mumbled, poking a hand out from under her blanket and waving it vaguely in the air. Her eyes remained closed, her voice slurred as if she were talking in her sleep.
“...Night Sakura kept asking over and over if Lightweaver would show up tomorrow. She asked every single day, at every meeting. Night Sakura really, really likes you. We do too, but for Night Sakura, you're special.”
She rolled over and buried her face in the throw pillow. Her voice trailed off, and she drifted back to sleep before she could even finish her last word.
“I hear you,” Qiluo whispered, tucking the edge of the blanket around Night Sakura's shoulders with a gentleness she didn't even realize she possessed. “I will definitely be here tomorrow.”
Misa Tachibana turned her wheelchair around and glanced back at Qiluo, gesturing for her to follow. Once she finished making sure everyone was comfortable, Qiluo stepped around the coffee table and followed her into the office.
After the door closed, the only sound left in the quiet basement was the low hum of the air conditioner in the corner.
Misa Tachibana turned the desk lamp up a notch. The warm, yellow ring of light expanded across the desk, illuminating the screen of a tablet lying there.
On the screen was a timeline comparison. On the left was the Wings of Freedom's debut announcement, and on the right was Meruru's special livestream schedule. The thirty-minute gap between them was highlighted in red.
The moment the office door closed, Qiluo felt a weight lift from her shoulders, replaced by a sense of relaxation she hadn't felt since working night shifts in her original world.
Tachibana took a thermos out of the storage pouch on the side of her wheelchair and unscrewed the lid. Steam rose, carrying the scent of the cheapest brand of tea bags from the convenience store.
“Are the three of them asleep?”
“Fast asleep.” Qiluo sat down on a folding chair, her fingers absentmindedly brushing the base of the desk lamp, which was slightly warm from the bulb.
Misa Tachibana held the thermos in both hands, letting the steam warm her chin.
Qiluo leaned back in her chair, staring at the timeline comparison still glowing on the tablet screen.
Before they got down to business, she wanted to talk about something else.
“How long has Kohinata been with the Wings of Freedom?”
“Six months. China Hinata had just turned fourteen when she first came here. She's the youngest of the three.”
Rate on N.U.
