Chapter 7: First Steps
Arisa's boots touched the stone and metal docking platform with a quiet thud, and for the first time since leaving the Sakarame village, she felt small. Norad towered above her in every direction. A sprawling megacity of glass, steel, and light, so vast it seemed to stretch endlessly across the horizon.
From her vantage point, she could see monolithic skyscrapers gleaming under the neon glow of holographic signs, their surfaces alive with shifting blues, silvers, and golds that reflected off the restless waters of the dock. Floating platforms ferried people and shipments between tiers of the city, each carrying streams of pedestrians, merchants, and soldiers in crisp DOP uniforms. The air was alive with the whirring of drones overhead, the deep hum of engines embedded in the city's infrastructure, and the chatter of countless voices.
For a fleeting moment, Arisa simply stood there, caught between awe and unease. It was overwhelming. This ocean of people, technology, and life. So different from the quiet forests and lakes she had known. Every glowing billboard seemed to shout a command. Every alleyway buzzed with electric current. The city itself felt alive, pulsing, and unyielding.
Her trance broke when a line of engineers in sleek, high tech DOP suits marched across the dock with mechanical precision. Their uniforms shimmered faintly under the lights, segmented armor plated with a blend of silver and white, accented with glowing blue veins of energy that pulsed with every motion. They fanned out around Ronnie's ship, moving as one. A second group of missionaries followed close behind, their shoulders straining under slabs of alloy and reinforced sheets, each piece stamped with the DOP insignia.
One of the engineers paused near her, his visor reflecting the neon skyline. His voice came through a modulated filter, clipped and professional.
"Step away from the loading dock. Repairs are commencing."
Arisa narrowed her eyes at the distortion in his tone but didn't argue. With a final glance at the ship, already buzzing with activity as sparks and welding arcs lit up its battered hull. She turned and walked toward the checkpoint ahead.
The path from the docks led her to a massive concourse, clean and geometric in design. Smooth white walls rose high around her, trimmed with lines of glowing blue circuitry that pulsed like veins through the structure. Holo screens floated in the air, displaying lists of incoming shipments, their text scrolling in gold against a transparent backdrop. The floor beneath her boots was a polished silver alloy, so finely crafted it reflected faint impressions of those walking upon it.
Two wide lanes divided the checkpoint. On one side, towering cargo gates handled the constant stream of crates and containers, each tagged and scanned by hovering drones. Mechanical arms swung overhead, lifting freight as easily as if they were toys, stacking them into neat rows under the watchful eyes of inspectors.
On the opposite side, a row of arches formed the Citizens checkpoint. Blue light shimmered across the arches like liquid glass, pulsing whenever someone walked through. The lines of civilians and travelers stretched far, each person holding their own identification devices, the air filled with the murmur of impatient voices and the metallic beep of scanners. Guards in white and blue DOP uniforms oversaw the process, their weapons slung neatly at their sides, their postures sharp.
Arisa stopped for a moment at the edge of the concourse, her gaze sweeping across the gleaming walls, the blinding lights, and the endless lines of people. This was her new reality, this city, this machine of order and power, governed entirely by the DOP. And though she carried herself with the same calmness as ever, she felt the weight of it pressing down on her.
Arisa slipped into the flow of people moving toward the checkpoint. The hum of the crowd was different from the chaos of soldiers. This was the sound of civilians, merchants, and travelers, their voices blending into a constant low roar beneath the digital beeps and metallic chimes of scanning gates.
The air grew cooler as she approached the glowing arches, the faint static prickle of energy brushing against her skin like an unseen warning. The DOP had engineered every inch of this process to feel seamless and intimidating at the same time.
A soldier in a clean, pressed uniform stepped forward to intercept her. His armor bore the white, blue, and silver trim of Norad's city guard, and a glowing badge shimmered faintly across his chestplate. His tone was professional, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes as he recognized her from the ship.
"Citizen check in. Identification?" he asked.
Arisa reached into her pocket and withdrew the small silver and blue device Ronnie had handed her. She turned it once in her palm, the surface reflecting the overhead lights, before pressing her thumb against the glowing pad at its center. A faint hum resonated, followed by a sharp click.
The device projected a holographic screen into the air, its letters forming in pale gold light:
***CITIZEN REGISTRATION: NEW ENTRY***
Name: Arisa Sakarame
Status: C. F. R Program – Pending Academy Placement
Clearance: Limited Civilian Access – Escort Recommended
The soldier's brows twitched, his jaw tightening, but he nodded. "Proceed." He gestured toward the nearest arch.
Arisa stepped forward. The gate hummed as she entered the field of blue light, static flickering across her skin. It scanned her in an instant, beams crawling over every inch of her form. For a split second, the holographic projection above her head glitched. her name pulsed in gold, then bled briefly into crimson before returning. No one seemed to notice but her.
The light dimmed, and the machine chimed. "CLEAR."
She walked out on the other side, her boots clicking against the polished floor. Behind her, the lines moved on as if she had never been there at all.
Past the checkpoint, the concourse opened into a wide plaza. Above her, glass catwalks spanned the open air, filled with pedestrians moving like veins of light across the city's body. Massive holo ads played across entire building faces, neon blue dragons spiraled through the sky to advertise energy drinks, while sleek DOP recruitment campaigns promised "Power. Purpose." in bold, flashing letters. The sound was a constant bombardment. Voices shouting through megaphones, wheels grinding along steel, music pouring from storefronts, and the ever present whine of drones overhead.
Arisa paused, her eyes sweeping across it all. For the first time, she felt the weight of Ronnie's words, this was Norad. The largest city in the world.
—
After some time walking around, Arisa finally stepped out of the towering DOP complex and onto the streets of Norad. For the first time since setting foot on the ship, she breathed in air that wasn't tainted with the salt of the sea or the sharpness of machinery. The city air wasn't exactly fresh. It carried a faint mix of exhaust, spice, and steel, But compared to the suffocating walls she'd just left behind, it felt like freedom.
The moment her boots touched the sidewalk, she froze. The sheer scale of the city unfurled before her like a living giant. Towering skyscrapers of glass and steel loomed overhead, their surfaces alive with shifting holograms and glowing billboards that advertised everything from advanced weaponry to glowing cans of soda. Every building seemed to stretch endlessly toward the heavens, their edges reflecting the neon blues, silvers, and golds of the DOP's signature aesthetic. Streams of bright vehicles hummed above her on floating lanes, gliding soundlessly while the streets below were alive with bustling crowds.
She blinked a few times, trying to take it all in. From where she stood, the sidewalks seemed like rivers of color. Citizens in sleek, high tech attire flowed past one another, their voices a blend of laughter, arguments, and the faint hum of comm-links in their ears. Street vendors with glowing carts shouted over the noise, selling skewers of sizzling meat, blinking trinkets, and high tech accessories. Above all of it, the billboards droned advertisements in a dozen languages, half washed out by the glow of rain slick streets reflecting the city lights.
Arisa let herself stand there in silence, her eyes drinking in every detail. For a second, she remembered Ronnie's words again "Get used to it. You'll be here for a good portion of your life." That thought made her chest tighten.
Finally, shaking herself from her trance, she remembered the device Ronnie had given her. She reached into her pocket, feeling the cool, smooth surface of the silver and blue gadget. She was supposed to activate it somewhere she could sit down. Her eyes darted around, scanning for a spot.
So began her first walk in Norad.
She stepped into the flow of people, moving with a cautious grace, her gaze darting to every flashing light and curious detail. Cars zipped past in the distance, pedestrians pushed by her without a second thought, and she caught herself muttering aloud, "These people don't sleep…" The words left her mouth in a casual tone, but a few passersby still glanced at her as though she'd interrupted their rhythm before moving on.
Eventually, she came to a crossroads. To her left stretched another wide street, massive skyscrapers, expensive storefronts with bright displays of cybernetic jewelry, high end fashion shimmering under spotlights, and hovering platforms showcasing prototype weapons. The energy there was intoxicating, but suffocating too.
To her right, the streets shifted. The buildings were lower, more human scaled, and the neon gave way to softer glows of warm storefronts. The sound of engines was gone. Here, the roads were reserved for pedestrians. Parks stretched along the corners with children laughing as they darted around holographic fountains. Shops displayed hand made goods, books, or small restaurants with cozy entrances. Even the air smelled different. Less of fuel, more of roasted food, brewed drinks, and rain on concrete.
Arisa didn't hesitate long. She turned right.
The calm side of Norad wrapped around her like a blanket she hadn't realized she needed. She slowed her pace, letting her eyes linger. Families moved without rush, shopkeepers leaned outside their stores to greet regulars, but there were still shadows. At one corner, a group of shady men leaned against a wall, watching everything with eyes sharp enough to cut. Arisa caught a few stares, but the way she carried herself with her sharp gaze, and calm stride, kept anyone from questioning her for now.
She felt… closer to home. The smell of something warm and heavy tugged her out of her thoughts. She followed it down the block until her eyes landed on a building painted in bold, glowing red letters, a diner. It was old fashioned, a relic compared to the chrome and glass all around, but it pulsed with life of its own. The scent of fried food and baked bread carried through the air, strong enough to make her stomach tighten. Through the window, she could see it wasn't crowded, just a few tired workers, and some people eating. Neon lights reflecting off their mugs of coffee.
Arisa's lips curled into the faintest smile. Perfect. A place quiet enough for her to sit, breathe, and finally figure out what came next.
[[Time: Night]]
[[Location: Norad, District three. LV street, Jorno's Diner]]
Arisa pushed the door open, the old fashioned bell above it jingling faintly. The warmth of the diner hit her immediately. Soft golden lights against red booths and chrome counters, the smell of grilled meat, bread, and brewed coffee weaving through the air.
Every head inside turned toward her. Forks froze mid air, a spoon hovered over a bowl, and the low hum of conversation died into silence.
Behind the counter, a man with a neatly combed head of hair and a curled mustache raised his eyes. His crisp white apron was spotless, his posture proud but not unfriendly. He set down the rag he'd been wiping with, his sharp gaze softening into curiosity.
"Oh, someone new," he said, his voice carrying a lilt of surprise. "Someone get Neta."
A younger worker sitting on a stool behind the counter pushed his plate aside reluctantly, stood, and disappeared into the back.
The mustached man moved out from behind the counter, his robe tied tight around his waist as he approached Arisa. There was no hostility in his walk, but his confidence was unmistakable.
"What brings you here to this part of the city?" he asked, his tone direct yet carrying a hint of warmth.
Arisa's eyes flicked over him, scanning his build, the way he carried himself, the lack of fear. She didn't answer immediately, instead turning toward the wall menu, reading it like it might tell her more about the place. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady.
"The smell of the food."
The man let out a booming laugh, genuine and unrestrained, filling the diner like thunder breaking tension. "I appreciate that. But there's no way you smelled the food from where you came. Usually only locals come here, and I know all of them." His eyes narrowed not in malice, but in measure. "Hopefully you're not looking for trouble. Neta doesn't like fighting… but she will if she needs to."
Arisa tilted her head slightly at the name, something in her spirit stirring at the mention of a challenger. But her voice was calm, almost disarming.
"I came here for a place to sit peacefully," she said, sincerity plain in her tone. "And to eat what smells like good food."
The man's mustache curled higher as his smile grew. He clapped his hands together once, the sound sharp but cheerful. "Then you've got a good nose, because you've found a gem!" Straightening his robe, he gave a small bow of pride. "I'm Chef Jorno. I'll make you something you won't forget." He turned to leave, but tossed one last line over his shoulder with a chuckle. "If you don't come back for the food, you'll come back for Neta."
Another worker behind the counter waved her hand casually, her voice light. "Feel free to sit anywhere, miss."
Arisa nodded and finally exhaled, letting herself take in the space. The diner wasn't crowded, only a handful of late night regulars watching her curiously. The booths were worn but clean, the chrome edges of the counters polished enough to catch the light. It smelled faintly of butter and sugar, something baking in the back.
She slipped into a booth near the window, the neon glow of the city casting faint colors across her face. Her mind replayed the exchange, Jorno's laugh, the mention of Neta. And though her exterior remained calm, she already felt a strange pull toward this place.
Maybe this city won't be so unbearable after all.
Arisa's gaze lingered on the diner window, lost in her own thoughts, when the faint sound of light footsteps broke through her focus. Each step carried a delicate chime, like tiny bells singing with her approach.
"Hello! Welcome to Jorno's Diner. I'll be happy to help you."
The voice was warm and melodic, filled with a brightness that didn't belong to the world Arisa knew. It startled her from her trance, and she turned, expecting another worker in uniform. What she saw instead froze her in place.
The girl standing before her radiated happiness, her smile so effortless it felt almost contagious. She was small, no taller than 5 '5 with light brown curls that framed her face and spilled just past her shoulders. Her teeth shone clean and white, though her canines were unnaturally sharp, catching the low diner light. A crisp red, black, and white uniform hugged her form neatly, the kind of tidy presentation one expected of a careful server.
But none of that was what held Arisa's eyes.
It was the ears.
Two feline ears twitched atop the girl's head, the soft fur catching the light. Behind her swayed a slender tail, playful and alive, tipped with two tiny bells that chimed with every subtle movement. Her eyes matched the rest of her strangeness, an impossible blue. Slit pupiled like a cat's, locking onto Arisa with open curiosity rather than suspicion.
Arisa stood stunned, unable to mask her surprise. The silence stretched until at last she managed a question, her voice edged with disbelief.
"…Are those real?"
The girl's smile didn't falter, though her ears dipped under her hands with a self-conscious twitch. "Yes, they are," she admitted softly. "B-but if it bothers you, I can hide them under my hair."
Arisa shook her head quickly, her own hands lifting slightly as if to wave off the thought. "No no. I was just curious. I've never met your kind."
The girl's grin widened at that, and with a delighted flick her ears popped back out from under the cover of her curls, standing proudly once again. The bells on her tail chimed in response, as if even her body was pleased to be accepted.
Arisa felt a shift not just of surprise, but of intrigue.
Arisa's gaze flicked down to the nametag pinned to the girl's lapel, Neta. The name felt small and oddly gentle against the loud clatter of the kitchen and the tang of frying oil in the air. This was the person Jorno had spoken about. Up close, Neta looked like someone who belonged in sunlight rather than battles. Round, curious eyes, a soft scatter of freckles, and a tail that thumped the floor in a steady, untroubled rhythm.
Arisa let herself relax into the leaning pose, elbows on the table, head tilted. She studied the cat girl with something like amused scrutiny. "So I'm curious. Jorno talked like you're dangerous. But all I see is a cute girl," she said, voice light but edged with the careful measurement Arisa used when testing people.
Neta's ears twitched, a pleased, almost musical hum escaped her. She smiled small, shy, honest. And the tail gave a little excited flick. "I actually don't like fighting," she admitted, the innocence in her tone making the admission feel sincere rather than naive. For a heartbeat she seemed weightless, like a child at ease.
Then the expression shifted, unexpectedly sober. Neta's smile softened into something firmer. "But if you plan on hurting anyone…" Her words trembled a fraction before steadying, carrying a quiet steel beneath the softness. "Then I'll have to hurt you, and I don't want to do that." The tail stilled as if struck by the idea, the small creature inside her recoiled at violence, but there was an unspoken line she wouldn't let anyone cross.
She brought one hand to her wrist in a slow, almost absent gesture. Arisa noticed the bracelets then. Two sleek bands of metallic silver hugging her skin, each about four inches long. The surface bore fine, engraved channels where a pale yellow glow threaded through like captured sunlight. The light was subtle, pulsing in a steady, calm stream, as if the bracelets had a heartbeat of their own.
Arisa's eyes lingered on the glow. There was something quietly dangerous about it. Not loud or brash, but precise, contained. It did not contradict Neta's gentle face, it complicated it. Beneath the softness Arisa could see was something else.
Arisa's eyes continued to linger on the bracelets, tracing the glowing lines with a silent fascination. The design was too deliberate, too alive to be just decoration. She leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued by every subtle shimmer. These aren't normal. And the way Neta had spoken only made Arisa want to peel back the layers even more.
"I know I'm asking a lot of questions," Arisa admitted, her tone caught somewhere between playful and serious, "but I can't help being curious about you. Those things on your wrists… I know they aren't normal. What are they?"
Neta raised her arm without hesitation, pointing to the metallic bands as if they were the most ordinary thing in the world. "Oh, these? They're my restrictors."
The word sank into the air like a stone into still water. Restrictors. For a moment, the clamor of the diner dulled in Arisa's ears. Her eyes narrowed. This cat girl needs restrictors? Of all the diners she could've wandered into, she had chosen the one with the most unusual waitress.
Arisa straightened, no longer leaning lazily on her hand. Her interest sharpened. "You might as well sit with me for a bit," she offered, voice smooth but edged with insistence. "I'll buy you food. Because now I have so many more questions."
Neta's ears twitched in surprise. She glanced around, clearly caught off guard by the invitation. For a second, she looked like someone who'd been asked to break a rule they've followed all their life.
One of the other waiters, busy with a mop, chimed in with a reassuring grin. "It's fine, Neta. I doubt we'll get any more folks this late. If someone does come in, we've got it covered."
From the kitchen window, Jorno's head popped out, his booming laugh filling the air. "Besides, we need more people from outside here! Who knows, maybe she'll bring me more customers!"
Neta still hesitated, her tail flicking indecisively behind her. The glow of the bracelets pulsed faintly as if echoing her uncertainty.
Arisa's voice softened, losing its edge. "I'm not forcing you. You can say no."
That small kindness shifted something. Neta's shoulders relaxed, and a smile spread across her face. Bright, warm, a little sheepish. "I'm actually pretty hungry," she admitted, her tone light again, though her eyes still held the glimmer of mystery Arisa had seen earlier.
Neta slid into the seat across from Arisa, folding her hands neatly on the table. Jorno came out himself this time, two menus tucked under his arm. With a grin, he placed them down. "See? I told you. If it isn't the food, it's Neta."
Neta giggled at his words, her bells chiming faintly as she settled back.
Jorno straightened, beaming at them both. "Now, what can I get for you two beautiful ladies?" he asked, his tone light and easy, waiting with that ever present smile.
Arisa answered with a soft scoff, the corner of her lips tugging in the faintest smirk. But as the sound left her, something unexpected rose inside, a warmth, fleeting yet undeniable. For the briefest of moments, her heart fluttered in her chest, like a memory brushing against her ribs.
She blinked. And suddenly, she wasn't looking at Neta and Jorno anymore. At the table with her, she could see them. Rena, Jessica, Chris. Familiar faces, etched with laughter and light, as if they had never left her. A glimpse of what once was.
But just as quickly as it appeared, the vision unraveled. The warmth dissolved, leaving only the echo of it behind. Arisa's gaze fixed on nothing, her mind suspended in a blur of half remembered comfort and loss.
Across from her, Neta leaned eagerly toward Jorno, pointing to the menu with a hungry grin. Her voice carried, but to Arisa it was muted, distant, like words spoken through water. She sat frozen, caught in the fracture of time where past and present refused to separate.
"Miss? … Miss?" Jorno's voice finally pierced the haze, sharp enough to reel her back.
Arisa's head lifted, the glow of her violet eyes cutting into him. Sharp, focused, the kind of look that had always been hers.
"I never caught your name," Jorno said carefully.
For a heartbeat, the air between them stilled. The moment hung heavy with memory, and mystery..
Chapter 7: First Steps
End