The Foxfire Saga

Akiko woke to an unfamiliar sound.

A light, airy humming. Like wind through chimes, threaded with laughter.

Her eyes cracked open. The cockpit was bathed in weak morning light leaking through the canopy's seams, catching on dust motes that seemed to dance in lazy spirals. For one disoriented moment, she thought it was a trick of the light. Then the dust resolved into glittering wings.

"Rise and shine, darling fox."

Sifra lounged atop the console like she owned it, legs crossed, wings flicking with idle impatience. Green hair tumbled down her back, and her eyes sparkled with that same ancient, reckless amusement they always carried.

Akiko's heart gave a painful, startled jump. "What… Sifra?"

She sat up too fast, nearly banging her head on the canopy. "How… where the hell have you been?"

Sifra tilted her head. "Oh, you know. Here. There. Between." She picked at her nails, eyes dancing. "Your little crew's been quite busy while you were dreaming sweet nothings with your darling. They've cobbled together a whole bubble out of tarps and tape. Honestly, it's impressive. Might even hold air for a week or two."

Akiko blinked. "Wait, how long was I—?"

"Long enough," Sifra purred. Then her grin softened, turning sly. "But you're not asking the question you really want to."

Akiko's fingers twitched, every muscle pulled taut, like she might throttle the tiny fairy on instinct. "What do you mean? I led with… I can't even—"

She sputtered, words crumbling before they could form. Her mouth opened, shut again.

"Where have you been?" she repeated, sharper now.

Sifra's smile went fond. Genuinely fond, which always unsettled Akiko more than her usual theatrics. "Home. The veil's thin now, cracks in all the right places. I slipped back for a little… vacation."

Akiko's throat closed. "Kaede—"

"Lovely as ever. Missing her wayward sister, of course." Sifra rolled onto her stomach, chin propped in her hands, wings fluttering. "So I told her stories. About you. About how you've been making quite the legend of yourself out here, even if half of it is tragedy."

Akiko couldn't breathe for a moment. Her claws dug into the pilot seat. "You—"

"A promise is a promise," Sifra cut in gently. "I said I'd watch after you, didn't I? That means coming back, even to this dim, thin-blooded world."

A mischievous spark lit her eyes. "Besides, your little escapades are far too entertaining to miss."

Akiko let out a low, unsteady laugh. It was that or let the tears burn through. "You always did have a terrible sense of humor."

Sifra shrugged one delicate shoulder. "I am a fairy."

For a breath, the cockpit was strangely warm. The veil between worlds felt closer, as if all it would take was reaching out and finding Kaede's hand waiting on the other side. But then it passed, leaving Akiko hollowed and oddly steadier for it.

"Don't suppose you brought me back a way home," Akiko murmured.

Sifra's smile turned wistful. "Darling fox, you are far too tangled in this world to slip free so easily. But don't fret. If the veil breaks outright, well…" Her grin sharpened. "That's another story. And I'll be here for it, too."

Akiko cracked the cockpit hatch and climbed out into the fragile bubble of tarp and jury-rigged sealant that passed for their oxygen enclosure. Cold air still bled through the seams, but it didn't bite the same way it would've outside. A half-dozen heat lamps cast a pale glow over piles of scrap and crates stacked in organized chaos.

Raya followed, moving carefully. The faint lines of her healing from the day before still ghosted her throat and collar, a reminder of how close Akiko had come to losing her. Akiko's hand hovered near her back, just in case.

They didn't make it three steps before the crew's voices sharpened.

"Uh… what is that?" Maevi was half-hiding behind a crate, eyes wide. Her hand hovered near the micro-fusion core's control pad as if torn between defending it and abandoning it.

Sifra perched atop a stack of crates, wings spread, hair catching every stray beam of light. She smiled, all teeth and smug delight, and waved daintily at the gawking crew.

"Hello, mortals. Lovely décor. Very rustic." She gave Maevi a slow wink. "Don't mind me. Just here to keep your favorite fox out of trouble."

Vashri gave Akiko a look halfway between exasperation and resignation. "You collect the strangest damn strays, fox."

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Akiko snorted, unable to muster a proper retort. Her focus was already drifting past them. To the fabricator, the portable workstation jerry-rigged with fresh feeds from the micro-fusion core. Its hum was a low promise in her bones.

She led Raya over, tapping the console to life. "Ready?"

Raya's throat worked. "As I'll ever be."

"Initializing schematic overlays," Takuto murmured in the quiet of Akiko's mind. "Neural interface for secondary host, estimated imprint calibration: forty minutes. Anticipated pain response: moderate. Psychological stress markers suggest elevated probability of discomfort."

Akiko winced faintly. "Maybe keep that part to yourself."

"Noted."

She took Raya's hands in her own. "It'll take about forty minutes. It won't be pleasant, but it's worth it. You'll be able to run the suit, manage your shields… even heal faster. And Takuto'll watch over you when I can't."

Raya let out a shaky breath. "I trust you. Do it."

Akiko keyed in the sequence. The fabricator arm unfurled, delicate manipulators hissing with stored compounds. The start of a second neural link, painfully familiar lines of carbon weave and rune-etched filaments, began to take shape under its precise hands.

Behind them, Sifra let out a low whistle. "Ahh, forging new threads. I do so love watching you weave your own chains, fox."

Chains? The word snagged at her, sharp and unwelcome. If the neural link was a chain, it wasn't a leash. It was chainmail, links interlocked to guard the most fragile parts of them. A ward against a world that would rip and tear at the very idea of who they were.

Akiko didn't look away from Raya. Her chest tightened with the old, bright promise: never again. No one touches her without going through me.

A cough drew her focus. Maevi, standing a few paces off with a bundle of cabling draped over one shoulder, trying not to look too eager.

"Hey, uh… Akiko? When you're done making doe-eyes, could use someone to hold this mess steady. Unless you want half your heater lines shorting out when we spin up full load."

Akiko huffed out a breath. The smallest grin ghosted across Raya's face, an almost teasing go on in the tilt of her head.

"Fine," Akiko muttered, giving Raya's hand one last squeeze before stepping away.

The work helped pass the time. Akiko found herself hauling sections of lightweight alloy struts into place, bracing them while Vashri and Roran locked them down. Sera scuttled between piles of scrap and the new oxygen seals, tablet in hand, constantly adjusting layouts. Raya, her movements still slow from recovery, helped Maevi splice new power couplings to feed heaters for the fragile enclosure.

Overhead, Sifra drifted lazily on currents that didn't exist, later lounging atop a battered vent stack with her chin in her palms. Her wings flickered like shards of stained glass, each idle twitch scattering motes of light that faded before they touched anything solid.

"You know," Sifra drawled at one point, watching Akiko brace another girder, "for someone who hates being tied down, you're surprisingly good at building things meant to stay put."

Akiko just snorted. "It's not for me."

"Mm-hm," Sifra hummed, as if that explained everything. Then she stretched out full length along the pipe, content to watch them sweat.

The minutes crawled by, marked only by the rasp of metal on metal and Maevi's bright chatter whenever she uncovered a new problem to solve. Now and then, Akiko's thoughts drifted back to the fabricator, ticking down its internal timers. Each time, a faint thrum of anticipation, or possibly unease, sparked through her chest.

When enough time had passed that she could no longer pretend to be needed elsewhere, Akiko circled back to the fabricator. The fresh neural link lay waiting on its print bed, faintly warm, runes still smoldering in delicate filigree across the casing. It felt like holding a promise. Or a blade.

Raya stepped up beside her, dark eyes steady. "It's time, isn't it?"

Akiko couldn't meet her gaze. She turned the neural link over in her claws, watching the etched runes catch the light. Now that she was at the moment of truth, facing the prospect of inflicting pain on Raya, even pain that would help her, stopped her cold. She could stop right now. Snap the casing, destroy it, keep Raya from this pain. Her voice came out raw.

"It doesn't have to be. I can watch over you. Handle everything that comes. You don't have to go through—"

"Stop." Raya's hand closed over Akiko's, firm enough to still the restless turning of the device. Her expression softened, but the edge in her voice didn't fade. "You'd burn yourself to ashes if it meant sparing me a little pain. I know that. But that's not what I want."

Akiko's throat worked. "I want to protect you."

"I know." Raya's fingers tightened, anchoring them together. "But let me protect myself, too. Let me stand at your side without being the weakness you have to shield."

Akiko's breath stilled in her chest. For a heartbeat she hovered on the edge of refusal, of throwing it all aside.

But she closed her eyes, drew in a shaky breath, and nodded. "Alright. But… I'm sorry. For the pain."

A ghost of a smile touched Raya's lips. "Worth it. For us."

Akiko exhaled, and nodded.

She guided Raya back toward the cockpit, to the small platform where she could work. The light was dim here, just a few strips of portable LEDs casting long shadows over the curve of the mech's inner walls. Her fingers brushed lightly through Raya's hair, sweeping it aside to bare the nape of her neck.

Raya shivered. "Cold hands."

"Cold hands are the least of it," Akiko murmured, voice catching.

The neural link settled into her grip like it belonged there. One careful alignment. A twist to let the primary filament meet skin. A breath. Then Akiko pressed it flush to Raya's neck.

Raya jerked. A strangled gasp tore from her throat as the device embedded itself, fine needles of magitech stitching deep. Her hands scrabbled at Akiko's arms, nails biting through suit fabric.

Akiko pulled her close, bracing her through it, heart a drumbeat of guilt. "Easy, easy, it's almost—"

Then Raya let out a hoarse, broken noise. Not pain now, something else, as the suit around her began to shift. The Haven survival layers shivered under an invisible hand. Nanofibers unraveled, rethreaded, black creeping like ink across cloth. Reinforcements flowed down her limbs, plates coalescing at joints. It was eerily similar to Akiko's earliest armor. The same design philosophy, the same alien elegance.

But then everything changed.

Akiko felt a pull, sudden and vertiginous. Like someone had unspooled a thread tied around her ribs and tugged. Thought, memory, instinct, all of it poured through a conduit that hadn't existed a breath ago. Not just Takuto's quiet presence, but Raya, warm and bright and startled.

Akiko?

The thought wasn't just words. It was emotion braided with voice, a rush of love and pain and awe. Akiko staggered, clutching Raya harder, head bowed against her shoulder.

"You weren't kidding," Raya whispered aloud, breathless. "This… you've lived like this for all this time?"

Akiko couldn't find anything clever to say. Her throat was too tight. So she only leaned in closer, pressing her forehead to the side of Raya's head, just above her ear. Their mingled mana crackled softly in that narrow space, breath ghosting together, the warmth of it unbearably fragile.

Never alone, that quiet bond seemed to promise.