His long red coat dragged faintly behind him, the fabric occasionally catching on warped pieces of metal jutting from the walls. The ship was quiet—far too quiet.

“Hellooo?” he called lightly down the empty hall. His voice echoed off the steel walls before fading into silence. Vash scratched the back of his head with a crooked, sheepish grin.

“Yeah… didn’t think so.”

Still, he kept walking.

He ducked under a bent support beam and stepped through a jammed sliding door into what had once been a large containment bay. Rows of cylindrical chambers lined the room.

Vash slowed.

The faint smile faded from his face.

Inside each chamber were the remains of the Plants. Not bodies exactly—more like pale stone figures frozen in twisted shapes, their life long since drained away. The glowing fluid that once sustained them had evaporated years ago, leaving only dust clinging to the glass.

He stepped closer to one of the tanks, gloved fingers brushing lightly across the surface.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly.

The apology came automatically.

After a moment he straightened, shoulders sagging slightly as his gaze moved across the rest of the room. Every chamber held the same silent statues. Every console was dark. Another dead ship.

“Well… guess that’s that.”

He had just turned toward the exit when something caught his eye.

A flicker.

He paused.

At first he thought it was just another broken light, but the glow came from deeper inside the ship—from a narrow hallway he hadn’t checked yet. Vash tilted his head slightly.

“…Huh?”

The faint light pulsed again.

Dim. Weak. But definitely there.

Curiosity—and a thin thread of hope—pulled him forward.

His boots echoed softly as he moved down the hall, stepping over fallen panels and exposed wiring. The further he went, the worse the lighting became, some fixtures blinking erratically while others had gone completely dark.

At the very end of the corridor stood a sealed door.

Unlike the others, this one wasn’t completely rusted through. A narrow line of pale light slipped through the gap where it had been left slightly ajar.

Vash frowned.

Slowly, he pushed it open.

The metal groaned quietly as it slid aside.

Inside stood a single containment chamber.

But this one… wasn’t empty.

Vash froze.

“…No way…”

The tank was still filled with glowing fluid. Old monitors hummed weakly beside it, their cracked screens flickering with unstable readings.

And inside—

A child.

Small and fragile, suspended weightlessly in the liquid, their hair drifting gently around their face.

For a long moment Vash simply stared, blue eyes widening behind his glasses.

“…You’re alive.”

His gaze snapped to the console beside the chamber. Most of the display was corrupted, lines of faded code barely holding together—but one thing still worked.

The heart monitor, weak… but steady.

“Okay… okay…” he muttered, stepping closer.

His movements became careful now—almost delicate—as his mechanical fingers hovered over the controls before pressing one of the few working switches.

The chamber hissed. Fluid began draining slowly from the tank.

Vash watched anxiously as the glowing liquid lowered inch by inch, revealing more of the small figure inside. His jaw tightened as he glanced around the forgotten room.

If he hadn’t wandered in today… He pushed the thought away.

At last the fluid drained completely. With a quiet mechanical click, the glass panel slid open.

Vash moved instantly.

He stepped in and caught them before they could fall, carefully lifting the small body into his arms. They were lighter than he expected—warm, though weak, their breathing shallow against his chest.

“…Easy there,” he whispered.

His coat wrapped instinctively around them as he held them close, the dim light reflecting faintly in his eyes.

Another Independent. Just like him. Just like—

His expression darkened briefly before he shook the thought aside.

“…Yeah,” he muttered under his breath. There was no way he was leaving them here. And there was absolutely no way he was letting Knives find them first.