The rest of the day passed in a blur.

Classes felt more like a formality than an essential part of the day, and as the afternoon sun began its descent, the sound of the bell signaled the end of the day at St. Antonia's Academy. I felt my heart rate quicken as I picked up my bag and stepped into the corridor, leaving the sound of chattering students behind. With my mind preoccupied, my steps took me in a familiar direction – towards the school bridge and gate, and towards home.

Once I stepped outside, the chilling wind brushed against my skin, causing goosebumps to surface. It was getting colder, a reminder of the winter looming around the corner. I glanced at the setting sun, its dying orange glow casting long shadows on the buildings and trees.

Just when my feet hit the pavement, I stopped and looked up at the towering skyscrapers of Shoreline City along the skyline. The buildings, with their glittering lights, touched the sky, flaunting their hi-tech architecture. Behind them, the fading sun had painted the sky in a surreal mix of orange and purple.

Shoreline City, the city I’d found a second home in, was as breathtaking as ever.

Turning the corner, I descended into the subway, the noise of the city replaced by the rhythmic hum of the metro system. Automated doors slid open as I approached, inviting me into the well-lit platform. The algorithmically-controlled trains ran with clockwork precision, and just as I stepped onto the platform, a train pulled in.

The interiors were modern, sleek, with plush seating and large display screens. I found a corner seat and settled down, my mind immediately returning to the whirlwind of thoughts I'd been battling. A soft female voice announced the next station as the train lurched forward. The city passed by in a blur outside the window, the lights of the buildings merging with the stars.

My thoughts drifted to Natasha, who was now a shadow of the confident magical girl I had known. The image of her shivering form wrapped in a blanket haunted me. Was she going to be okay? And what about Midori? And Ranjika and Dior? Were they going to find their way back to us? I gritted my teeth, the weight of the world heavy on my shoulders. It felt like I was carrying a truckload of worries.

My hand instinctively went to my bag, where the metallic orb and the textbook rested. The orb felt cold to the touch, almost alive. What did it mean to understand Project Raiju? Could it help me save my friends? How much did the principal and the faculty know about this project?

Was this just some kind of elaborate scheme to use me as a guinea pig for some sort of secret weapon? I wanted answers, and I wanted them yesterday. But all I could do was peel back the mysteries surrounding me one layer at a time.

I glanced at the screens in the train, news headlines flashing across in bright letters. All the portals that linked Terra to Earth had gone down several days ago. A special task force was now reportedly investigating the sudden and inexplicable collapse. Speculations were rife about the possible causes. The news anchor spoke with an air of urgency and unease that reflected the mood of the entire city, or perhaps, the world. After all, this was unprecedented - all the migration and trade between Earth and Terra had been confirmed to be severed without any explanation.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket, a message notification from Talia flashing across the screen. "Hey Ikki, we're home. Natasha’s mood has been improving, and Morada’s condition has been showing improvements too. How was school? Come home soon." I let out a sigh of relief and texted back a quick 'on my way' before slipping the phone back into my pocket.

The tension in my shoulders eased slightly. At least Natasha was doing better.

When the train finally pulled into my station, I pushed my way out onto the platform. The cold night air hit me with renewed vigor as I climbed the stairs to the exit, my breath misting in the chilly evening air. The neighborhood was quiet, save for the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional bark of a dog. Rows of quaint suburban houses lined the streets, their lights casting a warm glow on the sidewalks. It was strange how a familiar sight like this could bring so much comfort after a day of chaos and uncertainty.

Turning onto my street, I noticed a flickering light from the window of my house. They must have been waiting for me. As I pushed the gate open, a familiar wave of warmth washed over me. This was home — filled with oddities and uncertainties, yes, but it was where I belonged.

Entering the house, I was greeted by the mouthwatering aroma of home-cooked food. The comforting scent of soup boiling on the stove made my stomach grumble in anticipation, pulling me towards the kitchen.

"Hey, Ikki," Talia greeted with a warm smile, looking up from her steaming mug of tea. "How was your day?"

I shrugged, a half-hearted attempt at seeming nonchalant. "Same old, thankfully," I replied. “Willis and I got a good talking to by Principal Egan, and I had some extra homework and a new faculty advisor forced on me. Other than that, it was a pretty uneventful day.”

A sudden noise caught our attention, and we all turned to see Natasha shuffling into the kitchen. Her hair was a mess, and she was bundled up in a large sweatshirt, but her eyes were just a touch brighter than they were yesterday.

"Hey Nat," I continued, giving her a small smile. "How are you feeling?" She gave a slight nod, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Better," she muttered softly as she returned my smile. It was good to see her up and about. We had been so worried about her.

"You should eat something, Natasha," Talia suggested gently, rising from her seat and moving towards the stove. "Come on, the soup’s ready. It'll help."

Natasha gave a weak nod and took a seat, folding her arms on the table and laying her head on them. Her fingers fiddled with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, her mind seemingly somewhere else.

The room fell silent, save for the sounds of Talia serving the soup. The fragrant aroma filled the room, mingling with the warmth radiating from the kitchen. She set the bowl in front of Natasha, who looked at it for a moment before reaching out and taking the spoon.

"Thanks, Talia," she murmured.

Talia beamed at her, nodding. "No problem, Natasha," she said softly. "We're all here for you. You don't have to go through this alone."

"Hey," I began, hoping to lighten the mood. "You won't believe the homework I got today."

Natasha looked up, her eyes meeting mine. I held up the magitech textbook and the metallic orb, grinning. "Let's just say my homework might be a little more... explosive than usual."

The corner of Natasha's mouth twitched upwards as she let out a giggle. Talia rolled her eyes but grinned, shaking her head at my antics.

After dinner, I made my way upstairs to the guest room where Morada was resting. The soft glow from the bedside lamp bathed the room in a comforting light. Morada lay on the bed, her chest rising and falling steadily with her breath. Her face looked pale, but she looked stable. Talia had done a commendable job with her healing magic, but Morada had barely moved since we’d left her here.

"Hey, girl,” I said softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She didn't respond, her peaceful face betraying no sign of consciousness. I reached out and gently held her hand, praying for her swift recovery. She had flown across the world in search of Midori and got critically injured in the process.

"Morada," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "We’ll find them. We'll find all of them. We won't give up on them. We’ll bring them back.” My words hung in the silent room, an unspoken pact that tugged at my heartstrings. “It’ll just be like the old times. Concerts, good food, drawing. My little amateur sketches compared to your masterpieces. We'll do it all again, you'll see."

My voice cracked on the last sentence, the uncertainty of my promise making me flinch. But it felt right. It was a promise I intended to fulfill to the best of my ability

With a heavy sigh, I got up from the bed. I turned off the lamp and walked out of the room, leaving Morada to her restful sleep. As I walked towards my room, I couldn’t help but think about all that had happened and all that was yet to come. My mind was a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions, each one demanding my attention, each one pulling me in a different direction.

Back in my room, I looked around at the familiar chaos that was my sanctuary. The sketches I'd made with Morada strewn about the room, the various magical equipment piled in one corner, the books stacked haphazardly on my desk - it was all a testament to the life I'd been living these past two months. A sudden life of magic, of adventure, of pain and laughter and memories. Memories of Midori, Izumi, and Morada. Memories of Natasha and her transformation into Celestial Sonata.

And amid all of it, me - Ikki - a kid who’d had to grow up too fast, trying to make sense of it all, trying to hold everything together.

I found my way to my desk, pulled out a chair, and plopped down, pulling out the strange characters on the chalkboard and magitech engineering textbook Dr. Ofey had given me. I looked at it again, my mind going over the strange symbols. It was like looking at a puzzle, with pieces missing and no picture to guide me. But I knew I had to figure out how to be useful. For them.

I buried myself in the mysteries of the textbook for hours, the intensity of the information blurring my perception of time. Before I knew it, the sky outside my window had darkened. My room was now only lit by the soft glow of the desk lamp, casting long shadows in the corners.

Even though my brain was swimming with basic magitech concepts and formulas, my body was screaming for rest. The day's events had drained me physically and mentally, and sleep was becoming harder to resist.

Resigned, I decided to give in to my fatigue. I bookmarked the page I was on, gently closed the textbook, and turned off the lamp. I slipped under the comforter, my eyes growing heavy. My last conscious thought was a silent promise to continue my efforts the next day, a prayer for my friends, and an affirmation of my unwavering determination.

But sleep didn't come easy. In three hours or so, I’d snapped wide awake.

My mind was alive with worries, each one vying for my attention. The state of my friends, the weight of the secrets I was unearthing, the strange, harsh realities I had been thrown into — it all kept me up.

I turned and tossed on my bed, the soft chirping of crickets outside the only sound breaking the silence. The moonlight filtering through my window bathed the room in a gentle glow, casting long, spectral shadows on the walls. Despite the serenity, my mind was a whirlwind of worry and restless speculation.

Time seemed to crawl, every ticking second echoing the weight of the world on my shoulders. I found myself unable to sleep, so instead, I watched the shadows dancing on my ceiling.

It was then that I heard it.

I stirred in my bed, my eyes still closed. It was a soft, hauntingly beautiful melody that seemed to pull at my heartstrings, gently coaxing me out of my sleep. The voice was quiet and faint but pure, echoing with a hint of melancholy that was all too familiar.

I sat up in my bed, my ears straining to catch the enchanting tune. The house was still quiet, the rest of its inhabitants probably asleep, oblivious to the soulful song seeping through the silence.

Curious and drawn in by the beautiful music, I slid out of bed and followed the voice down the hallway. It led me to the room Morada was in.

The melody was clearer here, a bittersweet serenade that washed over me like a soothing wave as I silently tip-toed toward the door, which was slightly ajar. It took me a moment to recognize the source of the voice, and when I did, a sense of surprise washed over me.

It was coming from Natasha.

She was sitting by the window, looking outside, and I swore I could see a faint golden aura of light around her. I blinked and rubbed my eyes, and the aura was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

I pressed myself against the wall by the doorway, hidden from Natasha's view. I didn't want to interrupt her; there was something deeply personal about the song she was singing. The melody, it was... comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold night, a lullaby sung by a mother to her child. It was a song of hope, of enduring friendships and the promise of a new day.

“...Tomorrow, we'll meet again, beneath the morning sun. In the rhythm of this life, our friendship has just begun. As the dawn breaks, washing away the night — together we'll face the world, basking in the dawn light.

Hand in hand, we'll dance with the fading shadows, Sailing in the dreamscape where the gentle wind blows.

Her voice trailed off, the last note lingering in the quiet room. Natasha sat there in silence, her fingers strumming the imaginary chords of the melody on her leg. A silence stretched in the darkness, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Instead, it was a silence filled with the echoes of her song, the raw emotion behind the words still hanging heavy in the air.

I felt a lump forming in my throat. For a moment, I closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me. The gentle melody, the warmth in her voice, and the depth of her lyrics resonated with me on a level I hadn't experienced before. And in that moment, I truly understood. This was Natasha. She was inseparable from her other… half.

I cleared my throat softly and knocked on the door. "Natasha?" I called out, poking my head through the door. "Can I come in?"

Natasha jumped slightly, looking surprised. "Ikki?" She questioned, a look of surprise on her face. She quickly regained her composure, a small smile crossing her lips. "Sure, come in. Umn, did I wake you up?"

I walked in, taking a seat on the chair next to her. "I heard you singing," I confessed, "And don’t worry, I wasn’t sleeping well anyway.”

"Was it... too loud?" Natasha asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"No, no," I shook my head. "It was beautiful. You have a stunning voice."

A soft blush colored Natasha's cheeks, her eyes looking away. "Thank you," she murmured, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. There was a silence for a moment, neither of us quite sure what to say next.

I looked at her, taking in her messy dark hair and the faint bags under her eyes. Natasha looked weary, but there was a certain strength to her too. She still found the strength to sing, to share her gift with the world.

Finally, I found my voice. "That song, is it...is it yours?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Natasha gave a small nod. "Yeah," she said, "I wrote it a while ago. Never actually used it, though."

"It's beautiful," I said, and I meant it. "It's hopeful. It's… like a promise of better days."

Natasha looked at me, her green eyes reflecting a quiet gratitude. "That's... that's what I intended," she said, her voice soft. "I wanted it to be a song of hope, of resilience."

"And it is," I assured her. "I think... I think Morada liked it too."

Natasha's eyes widened, and she turned to look at Morada. A small smile touched her lips as she noticed the slightest change in Morada's breathing, a peaceful rhythm that was unmistakably different from before. The pallor on her face seemed to have taken on a rosy hue.

"Mmm… Celestial Sonata. I’m not a gal for any kinda stuff like that..." she muttered, turning over in bed. “But with you, it probably goes beyond aesthetic attraction.”

Natasha let out a small gasp, covering her mouth with her hand as she flushed that all-too familiar shade of tomato red. Morada's words were faint but discernible, her lips curved in a soft smile even in her sleep. It was a small change, but it was enough to lighten the crushing, tense atmosphere that was subtly suffocating the household.

For a few moments, we simply watched Morada in silence, her soft, peaceful snores punctuating the quiet of the room. Something akin to relief washed over me; Morada's words were the first sign of life we had seen from her since she fell into her coma.

"I... I think I woke her up," Natasha murmured, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, the corners of her lips curled up in a gentle, almost disbelieving smile.

"Yeah," I found myself saying, my voice just as quiet as hers. "You did."

For a moment, Natasha looked about to cry, her eyes glistening under the dim light of the room. But instead of tears, she let out a soft laugh, the sound bubbling up and filling the room with an infectious joy. The sound was pure, heartfelt, a stark contrast to the somber silence that had filled the house for the past few days.

I stared at Natasha, her laughter like a melody more beautiful than any song she could sing. In her eyes, I saw a spark of the fiery spirit that defined Magical Girl Celestial Sonata, a light that had been dimmed in the past few days. But now, it seemed to be flickering back to life.

And just like that, the heavy tension that hung in the room seemed to lift. For the first time since Izumi and Midori's disappearance, since Natasha's catalyst had been destroyed, it felt like we could breathe again. It was as if Natasha's song had somehow pumped life right back into my heart.

“You did more than just wake her up, Natasha,” I said softly, my gaze shifting to her. Her laughter had subsided into a gentle smile, her green eyes softening as she looked down at the sleeping girl. “You gave her—and me—something to hold onto. Your song…it helped. More than you can imagine.”

She blinked at me, her eyes filled with disbelief. "No... I mean, it can't be. I don't... I’m not a Magical Girl anymore, Ikki. I can’t embolden people with my music."

I shook my head, giving her a reassuring smile. "It's not about powers, Natasha. It's your voice, your music. You are reaching her, powers or not."

I grasped both her hands as she began to reflexively fidget with them.

Her eyes widened as I grinned at her directly in her eyes.

“Your music, your voice—it’s a gift, Natasha. It always was.” I added. “Your magic might be weakened now, but you are so much more than just your powers. More than whatever that Celestial Sonata identity is. You are…you.”

A long silence stretched between us, our words hanging in the air, filling the room with a sense of peace and understanding. For a moment, I saw her eyes well up, not with sadness, but with something that resembled relief, and gratitude. She drew in a shaky breath, finally meeting my gaze.

"Thank you, Ikki," Natasha finally whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. "You… you have no idea what that means to me. After everything that's happened, all the pressure I was under. I was… I was honestly starting to lose myself in isolation."

She hesitated, biting her lower lip. "You know, I...I had this weird neurosis overnight about leaving the house," she confessed. "I kept thinking, I don’t have my powers, I can't protect anyone, I can't even protect myself... it's stupid, I know."

"No, it's not," I said, firmly yet gently. "It's okay to be scared, Natasha. It's okay to not be okay. But remember that you're not alone. We're all here with you. We'll figure things out together."

She sighed, a small, rueful smile tugging at her lips. "You always know just what to say, don't you?"

I chuckled softly, my heart lightening at her teasing. "I try," I replied, matching her tone.

Just then, Morada let out a small sigh in her sleep, her features relaxing as she snuggled deeper into her pillow. A soft smile touched Natasha's lips as she watched the sleeping girl.

“Oh Ikki!” Morada suddenly muttered, stirring in her sleep. “Your sketchpads and notebooks really make you look like a grumpy nerd. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

The unexpected comment elicited a surprised laugh from both Natasha and me. I rubbed the back of my neck, a sheepish grin on my face.

“I can’t exactly disagree with that, can I?” I said, chuckling at Morada's sleep talk.

“You have your own charm, Ikki,” she reassured, a playful glint in her eyes. “Sketchpad or not.” I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks, but I laughed along with her.

Suddenly, the sleep talking got more intense. Morada seemed to be caught in a dream. Her body stirred on the bed, her hands twitching, and she muttered, louder this time, "I’m telling you, an aesthetic attraction to Celestial Sonata doesn’t mean anything! I just appreciate the artistry. It's not like I'm in love with her or anything. Silly gorgeous idol, thinking she couldn’t change the world with her music. As if."

Despite the embarrassing nature of her words, Morada’s sleep talking had a humorous aspect that helped lighten the somber atmosphere even more. I held back my laughter as Natasha turned a deeper shade of red, clearly embarrassed by Morada's unconscious revelations.

"Maybe… I should change my career and help her make those backgrounds,” Morada continued, now laughing in her sleep. "Can you imagine that? The crowd would be left speechless. Oh, Natasha. I see now. Trying to take on the world alone, she's really something, huh?"

Natasha's blush intensified. She looked like she wanted to hide, but I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past my lips. "You know, I think Morada might be onto something," I teased, making her groan.

"No way," she protested, covering her face with her hands. "I can't even imagine what she'd say if she were awake!"

"Who knows?" I shrugged, grinning. "Maybe she'd tell you to have more faith in yourself. Like she just did."

Natasha peeked through her fingers at me, her blush fading into a thoughtful expression. There was silence for a moment before she gave a small nod. "Maybe," she mumbled, dropping her hands from her face.

As we sat there, the soft light from the rising sun started to filter through the windows, casting a warm glow around us. Despite the difficulties we had been through and the uncertainties that lay ahead, for the first time in a while, everything felt okay. Even if it was just for a moment.

"Thank you, Ikki," Natasha whispered, her green eyes flashing with gratitude and… a confident smirk in the morning light?

“Let’s do this again,” she said to me with a wink as she tilted her head.

I just smiled back at her sheepishly, the gratitude for her own presence reflected in my eyes.

Despite everything, we'd made it through another night, and the morning looked a little brighter than the day before.