Bronzes clumped thick around signage points; Silvers pressed in as elbowless orderlies with IV pole spears that clicked against her shield like impatient knitting needles. She didn’t slam them. She re-directed—angles, fulcrums, gentle damage that read as denial in matrices. The Aegis soaked a “sedative fog” exhale; numbers scrolled—converted to heat; status resist; negligible—and the fog softened to the smell of hand soap, less sinister than nostalgic.

They took stairs that bent sideways in the middle like an anxious thought. The boss arena announced itself in architecture even before the gate framed it: a ward with curtains pulled, clocks without hands, a nurses’ station at the center like an altar.

The Boss stood on the far side, or maybe uncoiled—a tall figure draped in white with sleeves that turned to streamers of gauze, face hidden behind a mirror-bright mask. Where feet should be, a nest of cables and tubes writhed gently, attached to nothing. Bells hung from IV poles, ringing at no one’s touch.

BELL-MOTHER WARDEN — Gold-Class (Thematic).

Mechanics: Care Call (pull), Curtain Sweep (cone), Chart Audit (debuff), Code Blue (adds).

Harmony Risk: Medium (Hospital clocks).

“Hello,” Anastasia said, because she always did. “We’re here to keep people safe.”

The Bell-Mother turned its mask toward her. Anastasia saw—very clearly, very clinically—herself holding this entire corridor together while her own knees shook.

“Honestly,” Anastasia said gently, “same.”

Kana cracked gauntlets until the foam squeaked. “Money check?”

Ootori’s voice came in: “Base Gold in protected zone is ¥240,000,000. Tier V civics multiplier if collateral minimal: +1.7x on the pot. Materials yield hospital-lore stuff. Please do not steal beds.”

“Copy,” Kana sighed. “No bed heists.”

Miyu set two circles—one calm, one stitch—on either side of the nurses’ station. Raina positioned behind a supply cart, sightline threading through hanging curtains.

“Suncrest,” Anastasia said. “We treat this like a ward. Quiet feet. Clean hands. We’ll use Wardwalk to preserve doors and lines.”

The Bell-Mother raised a hand. Curtains slammed outward in a Curtain Sweep that should have carved them into lanes of compliance.

“Breakwater,” Anastasia called, turning the curtain to a gentle billow. Fabric rippled past, snapping like applause without sting.

“On me,” she told the boss in that mother-soft timbre that re-sculpted attention. Provocation pulsed. The mask tilted, fixating. Threads that had been snaking toward Raina retracted and sought the Aegis like vines searching a trellis.

“Code Blue,” Raina said calmly as spectral gurneys rolled in from side doors, pushed by Orderly Echoes in munin-white.

“Dibs,” Kana said, and shouldered the first gurney aside with surprising tenderness, spinning it into a harmless corner. To the orderly that tried to wedge past her: “No running in the halls.”

“Chart Audit,” Miyu warned as symbols—jagged ECG scribbles—crawled up Anastasia’s shield, looking for something to turn into a penalty.

Anastasia rotated the Aegis, let the scribbles read her instead of her team, and smiled. “Yes, yes, I know—insufficient rest. We’ll fix it after cake.”

The boss’s hand went up again. A bell rang—not in the air but in the sternum. Nurses’ station pens rattled. The clocks on the wall spun, stopped, then faced her.

“Harmony build,” Raina said. “If we drop adds too evenly with boss under 50, we might get a fusion—Ward Confluence. Avoid.”

“Understood,” Anastasia said. She took the Care Call pull with the effortless give of a tree swaying rather than a wall trying to resist wind, and the boss’s streamers tangled in the Aegis lip. Radiant Maul flashed in close, not brutish but precise—cutting gauze with light that crisped edges to keep them from fraying.

Numbers:

[BELL-MOTHER WARDEN]

HP: 92% → 88%

Aggro: 98% (Anastasia)

Mechanics seen: Curtain Sweep (converted), Care Call (anchored), Chart Audit (redirected)

Harmony: 14% (clocks echoing)

“Side note,” Kana said, punching an orderly into a pile of pillows. “This is the weirdest gym.”

“Every gym is weird,” Raina said, pinging a bell-cord to keep it from striking a monitor. “They make you pay to be tired.”

“Shh,” Miyu said, threading mend across the line. “Hospitals can hear you.”

The Warden changed tactics—turned the bells inward, and for a breath the room filled with voices: a chorus of Please help, Please stay, Please don’t go, I’m scared. Public Assurance flexed under Anastasia’s ribs.

She toggled open broadcast. “Everyone on this floor,” she said softly, “you aren’t alone. We are here. You can worry. We’ll do the lifting part.”

A ripple went through the air like a sigh that belonged to a hundred throats. Panic bleed stopped.

Public Assurance synergy: Panic Spread –20% → –40% (overlap with Sanctuary + environment).

“Window for cut,” Anastasia said. “Raina—hinge; Dragonspear ETA?”

“Two minutes,” Ootori said. “But if you finish before they arrive, they’ll just clap.”

“Let’s give them a show,” Kana said, grinning.

The Warden stabbed a stand of IV poles toward Anastasia’s calves, trying to pin. She hopped, light for a tank, and Wardwalk shimmered—the Aegis passing through a tangle of wheeled obstacles without bruising them, leaving neatly parted lines as if a nurse had just organized the world.

“Beautiful,” Miyu breathed.

“Tea later,” Anastasia said, because flirting is a spice. “Black sesame roll?”

“Y-yes,” Miyu said, cheeks warm even as her hands stayed professional.

Raina’s subsonic rounds pinned bell clappers. Kana used foam palms to catch a Chart Audit arc and fold it into a drawer like paperwork someone else was scheduled to handle.

The boss hit 70%. The gate sighed. Harmony 22%. The walls tried to flex their story: Be overwhelmed, be small, be tired in a way that made you want to sit down.

Anastasia did not sit. She set her feet. “Suncrest,” she said softly, “count: in four, hold, out four. Kana on adds; Raina pluck bells; Miyu keep me unfair.”

“Unfair,” Miyu repeated, smiling with the seriousness of a doctor signing off a chart. “Captain at 92% stamina. Shield core heat low. I can increase field density by three points for thirty seconds.”

“Do it when you like,” Anastasia said. “I will like it.”

Miyu liked it immediately. Sanctuary brightened, honey-thick where the Warden’s sleeve-blades tried to press. They sloughed, less blade than cloth.

The Warden lunged with a Curtain Sweep that dragged IV lines like nets. Anastasia met it not with Breakwater this time but with a short Bulwark and a step into the swing—absorbing force, refusing drama. The curtain wrapped the shield like a hug and fell away, dignity intact.

Kana pointed. “Boss is trying a ‘Code Blue’.”

Alarms trilled—not the hospital kind, but a dream’s idea of them. Gurneys rolled in with Chart-Shades lying under thin blankets, monitor lines flat.

Raina, calm: “Adds will try to siphon attention emotively. We ignore the guilt mechanic.”

“Noted,” Anastasia said. “I’ll tank their need. You finish the parent.”

“Wow,” Kana said, soft. “That sentence was intense.”

They executed: Kana intercepted gurneys and spun them to the nurses’ station where Miyu slapped wards on their headboards so they’d stop haunting the lanes. Raina threaded the Warden’s sleeves with shots so precise they pinned fabric to the floor without bending needles. Anastasia bullied the centerline, setting the Aegis like a friendly barricade the boss somehow wanted to push against because pushing on her felt like relief.

At 51%, bells started to align. Clocks pulled toward twelve. The Harmony pushed 32%.

Ootori: “Dragonspear thirty seconds. Keep it below Confluence risk.”

“Understood,” Anastasia said. “Kana, we do not greed. We make Tokyo tidy. Miyu—how’s your breath?”

“I can do this all day,” Miyu said, which from her meant exactly that long and not a second more. “But cake is still better than bed rest.”

“Always,” Anastasia said.

The Warden tried a new cruelty: it lifted its mask and for a moment showed; not a face, but a mirror that filled Anastasia’s HUD with reports of “insufficient.” Insufficient rest, insufficient fear, insufficient selfishness.

Anastasia looked into the mirror, into every line that said she could hold more than she should. She smiled like a teacher at a student who almost had it. “I bring teams home and I eat cake,” she said, the words steady as a drip. “That’s enough.”

The mirror cracked. The boss staggered.

“Window,” Raina called, already moving.

“Dragonspear on your left,” Ootori added as a red coat flashed between curtains. The captain nodded once to Anastasia, blades low.

“Sign here,” Anastasia said, and tilted the Warden by the edge of its mask with a shield shove only a woman who deadlifts buses can make look polite.

Steel wrote its signature. The boss’s HP slid 49% → 41%—and held when Anastasia said, “Stop,” because discipline is what keeps hard fights from becoming math problems you fail at the end.

“Adds,” Kana said, and carried a Chart-Shade like a misbehaving puppy back to the warded pile. “No more hallway galloping.”

Harmony dipped. Confluence risk eased.

“Finish on three,” Anastasia said when the Harmony fell to 18%. “Three.”

The last exchange was not cinematic. It was crisp. Curtain attempted; Breakwater flicked it aside like a towel folded and put away. The Warden reached; Provocation sang; it looked where she told it to look. Kana palmed a bed brake so the gurney wouldn’t roll into a curtain. Raina set two rounds into two bells and they went still. Miyu wrapped a mend around a strain in Anastasia’s left shoulder before it became a hurt tomorrow. Dragonspear drew a single, perfect downward line.

The Bell-Mother Warden collapsed into sheets, bells settling with the tiny clinks that accompany the end of visiting hours.

BOSS SUBJUGATED. CLAIM REWARDS TO EXIT.

The ward brightened. Doors that had been anxious ideas became doors. The clocks recovered their hands and resumed telling time.

Loot confetti scrolled:

[REWARD // TEAM: SUNCREST (with Dragonspear assist)]

Primary: Bell-Mother Warden (Gold) — Base ¥240,000,000

Protected Zone Multiplier (Tier V, collateral minimal): +1.7x → ¥408,000,000

Materials:

 • Warden’s Mask (1) — Allocated: Suncrest (Civic Relic)*

 • Hygieia Thread (x18) — Allocated: Miyu (Fieldcraft)

 • Bell-Clapper (x9, silenced) — Allocated: Raina (Sound-damp runes)

 • Compliant Curtain (x6) — Allocated: Kana (Gym… décor?)

 • Nurse’s Station Key (1, ceremonial) — Allocated: Suncrest (HQ)

Assist Credit (Dragonspear): 22% of pot

Suncrest Share: 78% → ¥318,240,000

Suncrest Member Split (per contract):

  Anastasia — 35% → ¥111,384,000

  Raina — 22% → ¥70,012,800

  Miyu — 22% → ¥70,012,800

  Kana — 21% → ¥66,830,400

Civic Merit: +6 (all present)

* Relic Note: Warden’s Mask (Civic). When worn at a hospital gate, increases Public Assurance radius and grants –10% Panic Spread base to bystanders.

Kana whistled, bowing to the empty air. “Ma’am, this was the most polite pile of money I’ve ever met.”

Raina, already tapping labels for silenced clappers: “That’s a new sound profile. We’ll dampen recoil songs.”

Miyu touched the Hygieia Thread and shivered. “This will help stitching… it remembers how to close wounds nicely.”

Anastasia exhaled. A little tremor in her legs—not fear. After-drop. She put a palm on her shield, loving it the way a carpenter loves a table—more for the use than the look.

The Inversion sighed them back out. The atrium came into focus with a gentle stomach-lift. Dr. Fujimoto was exactly where they’d left her, though her eyes looked like they’d been somewhere else and come back stronger.

“Your atrium,” Anastasia said, doing a slow 360 to make sure—no gouges, no shredded plants, just a faint glitter like good dust—“is intact.”

Dr. Fujimoto surprised herself by laughing, just once. “I appreciate your… bedside manner.”

Anastasia bowed. “We tried to chart correctly.”

Nurses had tears they pretended were eye drops. A little kid in a too-big hoodie whispered to his mother, “They talk like normal people.” The mother whispered back, “They are.”

Officer Takada swiped his eyes unabashed. “Civic escalator Tier V confirmed. City will write nice letters.”

“Tell City to fund more staff,” Miyu said gently, eyes on Dr. Fujimoto.

The doctor inclined her head. “We will take your nice letters and your subtle threats.”

Raina glanced at the skylight. “Harmony’s quiet. No echo. Good work.”

Ootori stepped into the atrium to meet them. She offered a small velvet box. “Civic Affairs asked me to present this here. ‘For the woman who treats Tokyo like her ward.’”

Anastasia opened it. Inside: a narrow ribbon pin—white with a gold edge and a tiny bell etched like a promise. Saint’s Ribbon — Civic Honor. Her HUD chimed.

[OATH EVOLUTION MILESTONE MET]

Mother’s Aegis → City’s Aegis (Locked)

Condition: Accept a city’s vow. Requirements remaining (1/3): Community Recognition (met), Coalition Citation (met), Personal Bound (pending)

Effect (on unlock): Expand lethal-redirect radius to 30m, charges 2, CD 45s; increases Public Assurance potency.

“Personal bound?” Kana said, peeking. “Like—marriage to Tokyo?”

“Like a promise you make out loud,” Miyu said softly.

Anastasia looked at the atrium—the potted trees, the exhausted doctor hiding a grin, the kid clinging to his mom’s flannel, the nurse trying not to cry in a way that wouldn’t terrify a patient. She pinned the ribbon to her haori.

“I’ll keep it safe,” she said, to the room, to the city, to herself.

The room breathed easier.

Ootori cleared her throat, businesslike because that’s how commanders hide feelings. “Debrief in an hour. Eat something. Dragonspear says they’ll take the Setagaya perimeter so Suncrest can… be human for thirty minutes.”

“Permission to be human,” Anastasia said, saluting with two fingers.

“Granted,” Ootori said, dry. “Don’t adopt any medical equipment.”

Kana, already eyeing a particularly comfortable-looking chair: “Define adopt.”

“Don’t,” everyone said.