On the ship, Shiori swallowed without meaning to—
the realization settling in: they were completely screwed.
“Chotto! Airi-chan!
Hayaku! Baka Buraindi-kun o tasukete!”
Airi didn’t wait for Shiori to finish—
she was already bouncing on her toes,
like a giddy girl promised ice cream,
and almost skipped toward the opening fuselage.
Dick barked:
“ROUND IDIOT!
FOCUS ON AIRI!”
The hatch opened—
and she stepped forward…
…then dropped straight into the void.
The drone shot upward to meet her—
its camera trembling with anticipation,
like a cameraman who just realized he’s about to win “Shot of the Year”.
Airi’s body fell fast,
long dark hair whipping upward,
like a black flag caught in a storm.
White and pink layers of her outfit burst open like petals,
translucent sleeves stretching into a flowing stream,
like the tail of a glowing comet.
She was falling.
But the fall was just the prologue.
She whispered:
“Tenshi sensō… kidō!”
And the world obeyed.
Wind slammed into her face—
and something else came with it—
like space itself acknowledged her command.
The fabric at her shoulders trembled,
but it wasn’t from cold—
it was alive,
like an invisible current ran through it,
like space was trying to scan her new form.
Pink ribbons flared with a soft glow,
thin energy patterns racing across them
like veins of light,
like starlight threads whispering beneath skin.
Airi stretched her arm forward,
controlling the fall with impossible precision,
like she was piloting her own body.
And then—
the world clicked.
Her dress began dissolving into light—
not tearing,
but breaking apart into glowing fragments,
like the fabric suddenly remembered what it really was
and chose to rebuild itself.
Each shard of light flew back into her body,
reflecting in her eyes,
reforming into smooth lines of armor.
White metal flowed over her shoulders
like liquid light,
matching the grace of her movement perfectly.
Plates sealed along her arms,
catching the wind in golden reflections.
Connection nodes ignited across her chest—
soft, even, like breathing light.
A thin contour of mechanical segments traced her waist—
elegant like a kimono,
precise like a formula.
Her long hair flashed silver,
like night itself had been torn open
and turned into a lunar waterfall.
And above her head, a thin glowing halo formed—
a perfect circle,
not shifting even a millimeter,
like a small sun
that had accepted her as its master.
Airi kept falling.
But it wasn’t falling anymore.
It was a predator’s descent.
Behind her, ribbons of light unfolded,
becoming wings of energy,
and in her palm, a weapon ignited—
a narrow hilt,
from which a pink blade of light burst forth,
resonating with her heartbeat.
She aligned her body.
And the fall became a dash. The dash—an impact. The impact—intent.
Airi shot downward
like a fired arrow,
like an angel of war,
like X1–REAPER—
coming to save her “baka Buraindi-kun.”
Blindy heard a sharp howl,
like a fighter jet ripping through the air overhead.
He looked up—
and saw something flying toward them…
…a silhouette.
A figure.
A feminine shape.
Descending smooth, like an angel of death
who took lessons from a comet. Blindy screamed:
“Z-Z-Zeros—!
S-s-something—
I—IT’S—
IT’S COMIN’—!
IT’S RIGHT THERE—!
SAVE ME—!
BUDDY—SAVE ME—PLEASE—!”
And then—
Airi didn’t land.
She slammed into the island so hard
the top layer of soil just vanished,
blown apart like Apocalypse confetti.
When the trash-dust finally started settling,
she stood there:
In one hand—a plasma blade.
In the other—a blaster.
Long white hair flowing in the air.
Blue eyes glowing with cold, clean light.