The bridge looked like a letter that decided to become a blade.
One arm of steel, stone and glass thrust out from the Council Spire and stopped above open air, a single-ended platform shaped like a T with no rail at the far lip - just the white roar of Neoshima below. From that height the city was a breathing machine of light: seven petals half-opened around its core, roofs and silver arteries flashing as banners lifted and fell in the noon wind. Drone lenses hovered in clean arcs. Air screens threw the Spire's reflection back at itself until it seemed the building could applaud.
At the center of the bridge, two ranks stood in the glow - Division Three and Division Four - eight cadets in new uniforms: white cut close to the body, black seams along the chests, silver edging that answered the sun each time they shifted. On every chest, above the heart, a new emblem caught and held the light: the second star, larger and sharper than the first, lines embossed like a vow.
