Sena: Ayanami

The second note came taped to the underside of her desk.

The girl in the tank opened her eyes. Sena had exactly 1.4 seconds to react before the tank shattered. Unit 07 exploded outward in a spray of amber fluid and glass, landing in a crouch that mirrored Sena’s own combat stance. They circled each other, two reflections in a broken mirror. sena ayanami

Sena looked at the row of tanks. Then at Unit 07, unconscious but breathing. Then at her own hands, still wet with amber fluid. The second note came taped to the underside of her desk

But in her pocket, folded tight, was a list. Names, room numbers, and a single instruction copied from the clone’s neural data: How to wake them up. Unit 07 exploded outward in a spray of

“You’re wondering why,” said the voice. A woman stepped out from behind the servers. Headmistress Hoshino, her silver hair immaculate, her smile worse than any threat. “Why we built her. Why we told you nothing. Why we’re so interested in your particular… gifts.”

She burned it over the sink with a lighter she kept hidden in her boot. The missing girls had one thing in common: they had all scored in the 99th percentile on the Academy’s monthly psychometric exams. Sena checked the records—quietly, in the archives after midnight, when even the security AIs cycled into low-power mode—and found another thread. Each girl had submitted a research proposal to the Academy’s board. Each proposal had been denied. And each girl had vanished within forty-eight hours of the rejection.