Chương 349: 150.Racing Against Clock 2

The second thing Aida had bought wasn't just the media narrative. She was clearing a lane. I didn't spell it out. Just asked, quietly:"Smooth?" Maki didn't look at me. Just answered:"If you can't see anything, that means it is." Right. Textbook answer. Wrap a walking political detonator capable of blowing up half the Federation's headlines inside the dullest, least camera-worthy medical logistics route available.

The whole venue stares at the dead coming back to life, and the one thing that truly can't see daylight slips out like a single drop of water. Not romantic. More useful than romantic. I'd barely settled into that ah, I see feeling when the front flared up again. The colonel Aki had pushed back earlier clearly hadn't given up.

She'd swapped to a gentler expression and was edging toward the survivor zone's boundary with two medical officers in tow — clearly trying to come in through the it's just a health check door, the angle hardest to fault. Smooth move. Also a dirty one. Aki was still on the other side handling roster linkage and hadn't turned back yet. I saw Maki's brow move. I moved too. Not because I have any special love for procedure.

Because I was tired, and I had zero patience left for one more adult who thought she'd found a clever moment to add to the mess. So I stepped forward twice and planted myself right in the line. The colonel stopped. Looked at me. I looked back. Oh. A woman. That explained why the approach was a little more delicate than the last one.

"Cadet," she said, very politely.

"Just a routine medical confirmation."

"What exactly is routine about anything here today?" She clearly hadn't expected that. Her eyes caught, just for a beat. I pointed back at the sprawling mess behind me — still hugging, still crying, still being photographed, still being chased by admin staff with scanners.

"Does that look routine to you?" Behind me, Jess turned an obvious laugh into a cough. The colonel probably knew she couldn't force it right now, so she kept her patience and explained.

"This is only to confirm everyone's physical condition. Nothing more."

"Ah." I nodded.

"Then wait for President Kushima to nod first."

"The President isn't part of the military chain—""But right now, she's the reason you can't touch us." I said it with complete sincerity. Sincere enough that I almost wanted to compliment my own manners. The colonel looked at me, her expression shifting a fraction. I knew that shift well — the one that means I can't discipline a first-year cadet on live Federal broadcast, but you are absolutely going on record. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Fine.

I accepted that. There was never going to be a version of this homecoming that came free of consequences. And honestly, I wasn't the only one racking up a tab. Pull anyone off the Yukikaze at random and you'd probably fill a volume or two. Just as the air was about to properly stiffen, Aki came back. She stepped in front of me — a small adjustment in position that perfectly ate up the colonel's path forward. Clean, like she'd done it a thousand times.

"Colonel," Aki said, even-toned.

"Medical confirmation will happen. Not now, and not by a unit that hasn't finished coordinating jurisdiction." The colonel's lips pressed thin.

"President, you're obstructing the military—""I'm keeping the military from doing something stupid." Wow. I almost lost it right there. The blade was already out. It just had one very expensive layer of courtesy wrapped around it. Aki looked at her without raising her voice once.

"This isn't a forward receiving port, and it isn't a wreckage salvage yard. This is a confirmed-survivor scene the entire Federation just witnessed together. Whoever loses their composure first becomes the center of tomorrow's accountability. If you insist on putting hands on anyone right now, Colonel, I can have the Chair and the Admiral confirm on camera, immediately, whether you're willing to own that call." Too far. Genuinely too far. This wasn't just blocking the military anymore.

This was using the projected thickness of the next three months' incident reports as a bargaining chip. The colonel's face changed color. She stepped back half a pace.

"Understood." She finally retreated. Watching her back away, I felt deeply satisfied. Not the satisfaction of winning a fight. The satisfaction of watching someone use a high-grade method to press a thoroughly deserving person back exactly where she belonged. Aki waited until she was gone, then let out a very quiet breath. Very short. Short enough that if I hadn't been standing right there, I wouldn't have caught it. And I suddenly understood something. These three minutes hadn't been free.

Not because the President looked impressive enough that the scene naturally obeyed her. Not because her name was Kushima and the military simply backed off out of respect. These three minutes were something she had forced into existence — using the raw crying from a moment ago, the title of Student Council President, the Academy's rules, Calando Rosen's backing, and even the direction of every camera on the field. Room to breathe, seized for us. Time, seized so the Academy could register names first.

A frame, seized so the media would define survival before anything else. And a quiet lane, seized so one thing that never should have been noticed could slip cleanly away. I suddenly wanted to say something to her. But the longer I thought about it, the more any properly serious sentence sounded wrong coming out of my mouth. So in the end, I just said:"President Kushima." Aki turned to look at me. I pointed toward where the colonel had retreated.

"That was pretty sharp." Beside me, Maki quietly closed her eyes. Like she'd already seen this coming — me, about to start saying things. Aki looked at me, eyes still a little red from crying, the corner of her mouth lifting, faint.

"Thank you for the compliment, Hoshino."

"Don't mention it. I don't hand out compliments often, so you can treat that as a premium-tier certification." Jess, of course, chimed in from behind:"She means she usually just insults people."

"Shut up." This time, Aki actually laughed. Short. Thin. Nothing like the sister-version who'd been crying too hard to stand a few minutes ago. This was the Student Council President's laugh — the kind you allow yourself only once you know you're still standing, the scene's still under control, and you can afford a millimeter of slack. Then she glanced at Maki. That glance was very quiet. Maki didn't say anything. Just gave the smallest, barely visible nod. Ah. Right. Best I not interrupt this one.

Even though reading a room has never really been my strong suit. Ash's voice came through my earpiece again.

"Ground team." I pressed my comm.

"What?"

"Your three minutes are about up." I looked out over the scene. Academy admin had the roster linked. Media messaging was locked down, for now. The military's first direct-takeover attempt had been pushed back. The family zone was starting to sort itself into some kind of order. And that inconspicuous medical logistics lane was already as clean as if it had never carried anyone worth a footnote in a war history textbook. I let the corner of my mouth pull up.

"That's enough." Ash was quiet on the other end for half a beat.

"Then get ready for the next phase." I knew exactly what he meant. Three minutes spent grabbing people, tagging names, locking the narrative, and slipping a shadow line out the back door — already worth every second. From here, coming back alive alone wasn't going to be enough anymore. From here, it was about who would take custody of the Yukikaze, who got the narrative first, and who was going to pay for whatever had actually happened this past year. Which meant— The truly messy part. The truly adult part.

The part that was going to drag every one of us first-years through the grinder — that was only just beginning. I took a breath, looking out at the memorial we'd personally blown wide awake, and found myself wanting to laugh. Because when you got right down to it, the first thing this ship brought back to the Federation, after a year lost, wasn't glory. It was trouble. The kind that's large in scale, high in clearance, and unlucky for anyone who touches it. Very Yukikaze.

Even coming home, she couldn't resist flipping half the sky over on the way in.