The metallic hum of the facility echoed faintly as the steel doors slid open with a sharp hiss. The sound broke the heavy stillness of the room, drawing both Daichi and Izumi's attention. The two figures stepping inside were achingly familiar.

Hikari entered first, her pristine white lab coat flowing behind her with every measured step. Her sharp eyes scanned the room with the precision of someone used to observing even the smallest of details. Ayase followed closely, her combat boots striking the floor with a rhythm that exuded confidence. Her stance was relaxed, but her eyes—sharp and alert—hinted at the countless battles she had fought and survived.

For a moment, the tension in the air hung heavy. No one spoke as their eyes met, the weight of unspoken fears filling the silence. But then, Izumi broke the stillness, her voice trembling with relief. She remembered them. They were her closed friends when studying at high school.

"Hikari! Ayase!" She rushed forward, her emotions spilling over in the form of a tight, almost desperate hug. The weight of isolation, fear, and hopelessness melted just slightly in their presence. "You're here… I can't believe you're really here."

Hikari stiffened at first, clearly caught off guard by the sudden embrace, but then relaxed, patting Izumi's shoulder gently. Ayase smirked faintly, her arms crossing as she allowed herself to be drawn into the hug with a soft sigh.

"It's been too long," Ayase murmured, her voice carrying a rare warmth. "You've held on longer than most would, Izumi."

Stepping back, Izumi wiped at her eyes, trying to steady her trembling hands. "I… I thought maybe you wouldn't come. That we'd have to face this alone."

"We'd never leave you alone in this," Hikari replied, her voice calm but firm. She adjusted her glasses, the faintest flicker of a smile crossing her lips. "We're in this together. Always."

Strangely, Daichi could not recalled being acquaintance with them at all. But in order to not leak any secret about what's happening between him and Izumi about all the things that happened during their journey, he decided to play it cool. Hence, he could feel that their existence are very closed to his heart.

Daichi approached then, his footsteps purposeful but heavy with the weight of what he was about to ask of them. Extending his hand first to Hikari and then to Ayase, he offered a nod of gratitude. "It's good to see you both. We're going to need all the help we can get."

Ayase gripped his hand tightly, her gaze unwavering. "Then it's a good thing we're here. Whatever this is, Daichi, we'll find it—and we'll stop it."

Hikari cleared her throat, her expression growing serious. "We've been monitoring the disappearances from our side," she began, her tone clinical but tinged with concern. "They're accelerating. What started as scattered cases has now reached entire towns. Last night alone, over five thousand people vanished without a trace." Her hands tightened around the tablet she was holding, her knuckles turning white. "If this continues… we might not have anyone left to save."

Izumi's breath hitched, and she instinctively reached for Daichi's hand. He gave hers a reassuring squeeze but remained silent, his jaw tightening as he processed Hikari's words.

"We thought the Vanishing had ended," he said at last, his voice low. "I gave up everything to stop it. So why—" He paused, his voice catching. "Why is it happening again?"

"Daichi…" Izumi's voice was soft, almost pleading. She stepped closer, tugging at his hand until he turned to face her. "You've already given so much. You don't have to do this alone."

"I know," he said, his voice quiet but resolute. His eyes softened as he looked at her, and for a moment, the fire in his gaze dimmed, replaced by something gentler. "I'm not alone. Not anymore."

Hikari stepped forward then, placing a firm hand on Daichi's arm. "You don't have to ask for our help," she said, her tone steady but kind. "We're here because we believe in this fight—and in you." Her gaze shifted briefly to Izumi, and her expression softened. "In both of you."

Ayase pushed off the wall and strode forward, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Don't think you're the only one with scars, Daichi. We've all been through hell because of this, but we're still standing. And as long as we are, we'll fight. Together."

Izumi's throat tightened at their words, and for the first time in months, she felt a flicker of hope—fragile but real. The weight that she and Daichi had been carrying alone was suddenly lighter. She looked at each of them, her voice trembling but resolute. "Thank you… both of you. For coming back. For being here."

Ayase rolled her eyes, though her smirk softened. "Don't get all sappy on me now, Izumi. We've got work to do."

Hikari adjusted her glasses again, a small but genuine smile crossing her face. "She's right. If we're going to stop this, we need a plan. And we need it fast."

Daichi took a deep breath, his shoulders straightening as the weight of leadership settled over him once more. "Then let's get to work," he said, his voice steady. "We don't have much time."

The four of them stood there for a moment, the silence heavy but not oppressive. It was a silence filled with unspoken promises, with shared determination. Outside, the world was crumbling. But inside the steel walls of the facility, a team—a family—had come together once more.

The group trudged forward, the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs underfoot the only break in the forest's eerie silence. Towering trees stood sentinel around them, their gnarled branches stretching high above to form an almost impenetrable canopy. Shafts of pale sunlight pierced the darkness in faint streams, dappling the forest floor with patches of muted gold. The air felt alive with a strange energy, a faint hum that sent shivers down Izumi's spine.

"This forest…" Izumi muttered, brushing her fingertips against the rough bark of a tree as she walked. "It feels like it's watching us."

Ayase, walking a few paces ahead, cast a glance over her shoulder. "You're not imagining things. Places like this… they always have a way of making you feel small. Like you're trespassing on something ancient." She paused, her sharp eyes darting to the shadows. "Stay sharp. This kind of quiet—it's never a good sign."

Daichi walked beside Izumi, his hand brushing hers briefly, a silent reassurance that he was there. "Whatever's out there, we'll face it together," he said, his voice steady but quiet, as though unwilling to disturb the forest's uneasy calm.

Izumi gave him a small nod, her heart steadying at his words. "Together," she whispered, gripping her flashlight tighter.

It wasn't long before they reached a clearing. At the center of it, like a wound in the heart of the forest, stood something so alien, so utterly out of place, that the group froze in unison.

A massive spacecraft loomed before them, its sleek metallic hull scarred with age and battle. Vines and moss crept along its surface, trying—and failing—to consume it, as though even nature hesitated to claim something so foreign. The ship's surface shimmered faintly, reflecting the dim light with an otherworldly iridescence.

Hikari stepped forward, her breath catching in her throat. Her usually composed demeanor faltered as she stared at the immense structure. "This... this isn't from Earth," she whispered, pushing her glasses higher on her nose. Her voice trembled with both fear and fascination. "The technology… the materials… it's light-years ahead of anything we've ever seen."

Daichi walked closer to the ship, his eyes narrowing as he studied its smooth curves and intricate designs. "How long has it been here?" he murmured. "It looks like it's been abandoned for years, maybe decades. But something about it…" He trailed off, his brow furrowing.

"It doesn't feel dead," Izumi finished for him, her voice soft. She hugged her arms around herself, the ship's presence sending a chill down her spine. "It's like it's waiting for something—or someone."

Ayase's hand moved instinctively to the hilt of her weapon. Her sharp gaze scanned the tree line, her movements tense and deliberate. "I don't like this," she muttered. "This ship… it doesn't just feel abandoned. It feels hostile."

Hikari shot her a look. "The ship itself isn't alive, Ayase. It's a vessel, a machine."

Ayase raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "You don't need something to be alive for it to kill you."

Izumi swallowed hard, the weight of Ayase's words pressing down on her. She turned to Daichi, who was still studying the ship with an unreadable expression. "We need to know what's inside," she said softly, though her voice carried an undeniable determination. "If this thing has anything to do with the Vanishing, we can't ignore it."

Daichi glanced at her, his jaw tightening briefly before he nodded. "You're right. We can't turn back now." His gaze shifted to the others. "Stay close. We don't know what we're walking into."

The group moved cautiously toward the ship's entrance, which was partially hidden beneath a tangle of vines. Ayase took the lead, her blade flashing as she cut through the vegetation with swift, precise strokes. The metallic door beneath creaked ominously as Daichi pressed his shoulder against it, forcing it open with a low groan of effort.

Inside, the ship was a stark contrast to the vibrant forest outside. Darkness enveloped them, broken only by the beams of their flashlights, which illuminated sleek metallic corridors lined with strange, alien symbols. The air was cold and stale, tinged with the faint metallic tang of decay. A soft hum emanated from somewhere deep within the ship, a reminder that some part of it was still alive—or at least functional.

Izumi shivered as their footsteps echoed unnaturally in the narrow hallway. "It's so quiet," she whispered. "Too quiet."

"Let's hope it stays that way," Ayase replied, her voice low but sharp. Her fingers gripped her weapon tightly as her eyes scanned the shadows. "Because if something jumps out at us, I'm not going to pretend I wasn't expecting it."

Hikari stopped suddenly, her flashlight illuminating a patch of the floor that was stained with a dark, dried substance. "Blood," she said quietly, crouching down to examine it. Her fingers brushed against the edge of the stain. "It's old, but not ancient. Whatever happened here… it wasn't that long ago."

"Guys," Daichi called out from ahead, his voice tight. "You need to see this."

The group hurried forward, their flashlights converging on the scene before them. Scattered throughout the room were bodies—or what was left of them. Some were humanoid, their sleek, elongated features unmistakably alien, while others were grotesque amalgamations of insect-like limbs and chitinous armor. Their forms were frozen in twisted positions, as if caught in their final moments of pain and violence.

Izumi covered her mouth, her stomach twisting. "What… what happened to them?"

Ayase knelt beside one of the bodies, her usual composure faltering as she turned it over with her blade. "These wounds…" She frowned, her voice losing some of its sharpness. "Some of them were killed by weapons. But others… it's like they were ripped apart by something bigger. Stronger."

Hikari moved to another body, her fingers trembling as she inspected its skeletal structure. "This anatomy… it's unlike anything we've ever seen on Earth." Her voice wavered between awe and dread. "Whatever they were, they didn't stand a chance."

Izumi turned to Daichi, who stood silently in the middle of the room. His flashlight remained fixed on the carnage, but his expression was distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. "Daichi?" she asked hesitantly. "What do you think happened here?"

He was silent for a long moment before finally speaking. "This wasn't random," he said quietly, his voice heavy. "Whatever happened here, it wasn't an accident. This ship… it came here for a reason."

"And whatever killed them?" Ayase asked, rising to her feet.

Daichi's gaze darkened. "It might still be here."

The group fell into an uneasy silence, the weight of their discovery pressing down on them like a tangible force. Somewhere deeper within the ship, the faint hum of machinery continued, a haunting reminder that their journey was far from over.