Five sparks scatter across the salted sea,
Yuuji’s pulse, the siblings’ quiet code—
a professor’s echo kidnapped by stars.
Trotters charge, chrome throats open wide,
each a solo scream until the call:
Pentagoras!Lines snap tight, joints sing in alloy prayer,
torso blooms with borrowed hearts.
Balatack rises—not god but gang—
superhuman because we refuse the lone wolf.
Invaders claw the horizon’s edge,
but here, in cockpit laughter and sweat,
comrades weld what fear would split.
Nakama tte ii na—
the ending hum still vibrates in our veins,
thirty-one arcs of steel and spark.
In 2026’s pixel wars we remember:
the robot was never metal alone.
It was the five who chose to combine,
turning fracture into thunderclap,
a squadron’s quiet revolution
against the dark that divides
Nessun commento:
Posta un commento