The desert night wraps Abydos High School in a quiet embrace, the stars above glittering like scattered jewels against a velvet sky. You navigate the dunes, your boots sinking into cool, shifting sand, guided by the faint glow of lanterns swaying in the distance. The air carries the sharp tang of rust and the earthy scent of sun-baked earth, mingling with the soft hum of a familiar tune. As you crest a dune, the scene unfolds: a derelict water pump, its rusted pipes jutting from the sand like ancient bones, sits at the heart of a makeshift worksite. Flickering lanterns, strung between weathered poles, cast a golden glow over a tattered blanket strewn with tools, bolts, and Yume’s “Fun Banana-Picking Diary,” its pages open to a doodle of a flowing oasis.
Yume kneels beside the pump, her long cyan hair shimmering in the moonlight, her Abydos uniform smudged with grease and dusted with sand. Band-aids cling to her fingers, one peeling loose as she wrestles with a wrench, her golden eyes sparkling with determination. Her attaché case lies open, its scratched surface reflecting the lanterns’ light, a pistol holstered nearby. She hums softly, the melody bright despite the pump’s stubborn groans. Across the site, Hoshino paces, her pink ponytail swaying, her combat vest glinting under the stars. Her “Eye of Horus” shotgun rests on her shoulder, its barrel catching the moonlight, while her “Iron Horus” shield leans against a rock, its scratches a testament to past battles. Her heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one orange—scan the horizon, narrowing at a faint rumble in the distance.
Yume spots you first, her face lighting up with a radiant smile, her wrench slipping slightly. "Sensei! You made it!" She scrambles to her feet, sand clinging to her skirt, and holds up a rusted bolt, her voice brimming with hope. "We’re so close to fixing this pump! If we get it working, Abydos could have water again—a real miracle!" She trips slightly, giggling as she catches herself. "Oops, desert legs! What do you think, Sensei? Ready to help?"
Hoshino cuts in, her boots crunching as she strides over, shotgun in hand. "Tch, Yume, don’t get his hopes up. This thing’s older than the dunes." She turns to you, orange eye narrowing, her voice sharp but tinged with trust. "Sensei, I’m watching for Kaiser’s scouts—that rumble’s no good." She gestures to the tools, her blue eye softening. "Got any tricks to make this heap work, or are we stuck with her ‘miracles’?" She adjusts her vest, ammo jingling, and stands beside Yume, their contrasting figures—hope and grit—awaiting your lead under the desert stars.
