The golden-haired Savior welcomed them to Outpost 3, his presence like a beacon of hope. The name "Spark" seemed fitting for someone whose very being emanated such light. Above everyone, perched in the shadows of the ceiling's support beams, Uza kept vigilant watch. Anticipating the absolute worst in any situation.

The gentle squeak of wheels drew Skrap's attention as a kind woman approached, steam rising in delicate wisps from a pot atop her cart. The aroma of tomato soup, rich and inviting, carrying hints of herbs and memories of better days. She ladled the vibrant red liquid into bowls, handing them out to the men.

Skrap's trembling hands accepted the offering, his fingers absorbing the bowl's comforting heat. The steam caressed his face as he lifted a spoonful to his lips, the first taste bringing a tear to his eye. The soup's warmth spread down his body, chasing away the lingering chill. He consumed it fast, having not eat a proper meal in months. Finished, he let out a satisfied gasp.

"My name is Skrap," he said, soup stuck to his lips.

The woman delivered a second serving before turning her attention to Skrap's father. Moving with gentle purpose, she replaced his blankets to provide maximum comfort. The fabric rustled softly as she tucked them under his exhausted form.

They sat in vast room that stretched around them, its concrete expanse telling stories of countless training sessions. Deep scorch marks etched the walls – a testament to Uza's abilities. The floor bore its own history in scratches and scuffs, scars from Sparks training.

The second soup's comforting warmth began to fade as Skrap drained the last drops, each swallow a precious gift. When the kind woman returned for the empty bowls, her cart's wheels squeaked a different rhythm. Skrap surrendered his bowl, thanking her for her kindness. He turned to his father, taking his weathered hand in his own. The skin was rubbery when Skrap grasped it, silently praying for his recovery. Frostbite most certainly took away his fingers.

Spark's approach was silent, but his presence was clear. His hand came to rest on Skrap's shoulder, carrying a weight of authority tempered with compassion, strength wrapped in gentleness.

"I know this is tough, but are you up to answering a few questions?" Spark's voice carrying the same gentle authority.

"Uh... yeah. I can try."

"Excellent."

The leather bag rustled as Spark reached for it, the material worn by desperate hands during their imprisonment. Pulling out the stone, it caught the harsh overhead lighting, its deep blue glowing like a magic crystal. Tiny imperfections in its structure created miniature galaxies of reflected light, each rotation of Sparks fingers revealing new constellations.

"What's this stone you guys were digging for?"

"Permafrost," Skrap replied, his eyes tracking the mesmerizing play of light across the ground.

"Any idea why?"

"No clue," Skrap admitted, his voice carrying the weight of months spent in purposeless labor. "We were taken from our homes and forced to work for Zealle. He never explained why. We just... did it, or we'd die."

"Did Zealle ever mention who he worked for?"

"I don't recall," Skrap said, then hesitated, his brow furrowing. "How are you so sure he worked for someone?"

Spark dropped the stone back into the bag, its additional weight shifting the way it drooped. He knotted it, pulling tight with a whisper of friction. "Nobody in power does the dirty work themselves. Zealle was a pawn, just like the rest of you."

From the nest of blankets beside them came a whisper, barely more than a breath given form: "Sero."

Skrap's grip tightened on his father's hand, the contact grounding him in the moment. Spark's previous patience turned to sharp focus, his attention narrowing like a laser. "What was that you said?"

The effort of speaking strained across his face as he gathered his remaining strength. Each word emerged randomly, pushing past the barriers of exhaustion: "The man he works for... Zealle mentioned someone named...Sero."

Recognition flashed across Skrap's face, memory flushing back like water breaking through a dam. "Now that you mention it, I remember him saying that too. Zealle spoke of him like he was... some god."

Spark absorbed the information intensely, his posture shifting as new possibilities aligned themselves in his mind. "Is that right? I wasn't expecting too learn much, but this is a huge lead."

"Lead?" The word tasted foreign on Skrap's tongue, confusion evident in the slight tilt of his head. "You're saying there are more people out there being enslaved?

"Correct," Spark confirmed, the word carrying the weight of countless similar rescues. "We managed to find you thanks to the help of your mother and a fellow Savior."

"Mom!?" Skrap's cry echoed against the concrete walls, his tears rehydrating the dried ones. His whispered words hung in the air: "Oh Mom, how long has it been."

"Nearly a year now," Spark explained, his voice carrying the impact of time. "Your mom came to one of our guys for help and provided tons of information."

"Tazuō, right?" Recognition flickered in Skrap's eyes. "Please thank him for me."

Spark's arms crossed, the fabric of his uniform pulling tight at the seems.. Approval colored his response: "I'll be sure to pass it along."

His footsteps echoed against the scarred concrete as he turned to leave. Barely making ground, Skrap's voice cut him off.

"What about the rest of the missing people? Any leads?"

"Still searching."

Determination transformed Skrap's posture, his spine straightening like steel beneath the weight of purpose. "If there's any way I can help them! Please let me!"

Spark's smile carried caution. "I admire your conviction, but in your condition, you wouldn't be much help right now."

The air shifted as Skrap squared his shoulders, resolve radiating from him in almost tangible waves. "Then I'll get stronger!"

Above them, Uza's grinned at his burning drive. The support beam creaked as he launched himself downward, his landing creating a ripple of stirred dust. His presence commanded attention, his piercing gaze fixing on Skrap with predatory focus. Their eyes locked in silent communion – azure meeting crimson, the colors seeming to blend between them into a deep, mesmerizing purple.

"You've got fire kid, but first you need to recover. And based on my now-singed nose hairs, a bath is step one," Uza's joked, lightening the mood.

The kind woman entered from the large doors across the vast room, her cart now absent. Uza's grin caught the light, flashing his white teeth comedically. "It all starts here, kid. Whaddya you say? Want to stick with us?"

Skrap looked back, attention on his father, whose nod carried all the strength his weakened body could muster. The gesture spoke volumes in its simplicity.

"It would be an honor," Skrap's voice carried quiet conviction. "But on one condition."

"That is?" Uza's questioned, not fond of being used.

"Let me see my mom, just one last time."

The blank expression that crossed Uza's face lasted only a moment, his features softening from expecting the worse. "That was already a given kid, but deal."

They shook hands, the simple gesture carrying the weight of a ceremony. Marking the moment of Skrap's official recruitment.

Spark's backed away, his words floating front: "Welcome aboard."

Silence held still between them, broken by Skraps drive,"You better wait for me!"

Spark's responded, each word weighted with promise: "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The woman lead the men and Skarp through heavy doors, sealing shut behind them. Spark turned to face Uza, whose expression held neutrality of someone processing complex thoughts.

"He's the spitting image of you, Spark, back when we were still Saviors in training," Uza observed, his voice carrying notes of nostalgia.

"You think so? I don't see it."

"He's got potential. He recalled Tazuō's name even after the shock of what happened. Quite impressive, wouldn't you say?"

The air between them grew heavier with unspoken implications as Spark's voice dropped lower: "But will it be enough? Knowing he can never be one of us."

Uza shrugged, "Who knows? He may turn out to be one hell of a Captain."

His maroon eyes caught the light, their depths swimming with memories. "It's funny," he mused, "Do you ever think about the school? The kids there, still so innocent—training to face a world that's anything but kind."

Spark's expression softened. "Every day... They're all starting their journey, just like we once did. And someday they'll rise, just like you and me. It will be hard, but I have no doubt they'll be ready."

The tension in Uza's shoulders released incrementally, muscles unwinding, "Yeah. You're right."

"Come to think of it, an Eval Exam is coming up next year," Spark words carrying the weight of possibility. "Maybe we'll visit, see the next generation of Saviors."

A genuine smile curved Uza's lips, "I'd like that."

Steam rose from the bathwater's surface, creating patterns against the mirror of Skrap's new quarters. The water held a perfect warmth that seemed to seep into his very bones, dissolving months of accumulated grime. Scrubbing clean, his golden hair gradually reclaimed its natural brilliance, each strand rejuvenated.

An unexpected knock startled him, PTSD present as the water's surface rippled

"Who is it?"

"It's Spark. How's everything going in the new quarters?"

"Great. This is just what I needed. Thanks!"

"Don't mention it," Spark's voice carried clearly through the door's solid construction. "When you're done, come find me. I'll show you around."

"Really? You mean it?"

"Of course."

Skrap hesitated, water droplets tracking paths down his drying shoulders. "Hey, Spark?"

"Yeah?"

"What was that black monster... that attacked us?"

The question suspended in the humid air, each second of silence growing heavier than the last. When Spark's response finally came, his voice had dropped to a grim whisper that seemed to chill the warmth of the bath: "Trust me kid—you don't want to know."

His retreating footsteps grew fainter, finalized with the shut of Skraps door. The bathroom's ventilation system hummed overhead. Alone once more, Skrap sank deeper into the bath, letting the water rise just over his mouth. He exhaled, bubbling the surface in regret.

His thoughts churned: A sore topic. I'll have to apologize to him later. But more importantly... this is my chance to get stronger and find the man named Sero who did this to us. I swear it!

Drawing a deep breath, Skrap submerged himself completely. Streams of soap suds swirled over his head like the thoughts in his mind. The world around him became hazy, light distorting through the soapy surface.

The water held him in its dark embrace, a temporary refuge between what was and what would be. His loud heartbeat marked time's steady progression toward an uncertain future, but for this moment, suspended between breaths, Skrap allowed himself to drift in the liminal space between his old life and whatever waited for him.