Chapter 13 - The Silence Was Worse

  Spring came, and with it, Ezra’s return to work. His body had healed. His mind? That was a different story. But he was strong. Mentally, emotionally—Ezra had been through worse, and he knew how to bounce back. So he did what he always did. He worked. Focused on his side project, drowned himself in blueprints and circuits, ignoring the stiff ache in his ribs that still lingered on colder mornings.

  And then—Haru arrived.

  Ezra didn’t acknowledge him at first—just let the kid clock in, settle in, do his own thing. But something was off. Haru was quieter now. That wasn’t normal. At first? Ezra was thankful for the peace. But then…

  The silence lasted.

  And somehow? Somehow, the silence was worse than the yapping.

  Hours passed. Ezra tried to shake it off, tried to focus on work, but— He kept stealing glances.

  Haru wasn’t humming to himself like usual.

  Wasn’t bouncing his leg under the table.

  Wasn’t talking through his thought process or spouting dumb theories out loud just to hear how they sounded.

  Nothing.

  Ezra set his tools down, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. Then, finally—"Cat got your tongue, kid?" It was a small joke—one that made Ezra smirk to himself, amused at his own inside reference. But Haru didn’t react.

  Didn’t even look up.

  Ezra frowned. Cleared his throat. Waited. Eventually, Haru shifted, his fingers twitching against the table. Then—in a voice that lacked his usual energy—he finally spoke. "Did it hurt?"

  Ezra blinked. Then, as if on autopilot, he smirked. "No," he said dryly. "It tickled."

  Haru didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smile. Ezra’s smirk faded. Okay. So that’s not all that’s bothering him. Ezra exhaled through his nose, rubbing his fingers together before stepping away from his workstation.

  No more dodging it. No more letting this tension linger. "Alright, kid," Ezra said, walking over. "Wassup."

  Haru hesitated. Then, finally— "Why did you take the blame for me?"

  Ezra stopped. Really stopped. For a moment, he thought about dodging the question—thought about brushing it off with a joke. But when he looked down—When he saw the genuine sincerity in Haru’s expression—He knew he couldn’t.

  This wasn’t just any kid. This was someone he had to work with. Someone he had chosen to protect. So Ezra took a deep breath, rolling out his aching shoulders. "You might be the world's youngest genius, kid," he said, voice steady, calm, "but there's things in this world you're not ready for."

  Haru’s brow furrowed. His gears were turning. Ezra could see it happening, see the way Haru’s fingers fidgeted slightly, his eyes darting, processing, analyzing, deconstructing everything.

  Then—"Are we next?"

  The words were quiet. Heavy. Ezra’s gut twisted. But he smiled anyway. Soft. Reassuring. "Not if I have anything to say about it." Haru didn’t answer right away. But Ezra could tell—That helped.

  At least a little.

  Even with that weight off his chest, Ezra could tell Haru wasn’t okay. Usually, the kid was elbow-deep in blueprints, sketching some new machine, some new project, always thinking ten steps ahead.

  But today? He was just sitting there. Ezra sighed. "You need a break?"

  Haru nodded.

  Ezra dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "Here," he said. "But stay in my line of sight. I’m not fishing you out of the ceiling again."

  Haru giggled softly. And that? That was a small victory. The kid took the phone, flopped into a chair, and immediately booted up his latest obsession.

  Tenzai Raikou.

  Ezra side-eyed him, watching the screen. Coughed. Muttered "weeb" under his breath. Haru didn’t even react. Just kept watching. Ezra shook his head, rolling his eyes, and went back to work. At least—for now—things were quiet again.

  Ezra had expected Haru to be glued to his phone for hours. Instead, after just a few episodes, the kid handed it back. Ezra raised a brow. “Huh. That’s suspicious.”

  Haru didn’t even snark back. No half-baked joke. No nerdy, overcomplicated tangent. Just that same quiet look. Yeah, nope. That does it. Work? Officially canceled. “You know what?” Ezra said, standing up. “We’re getting ice cream.”

  Haru blinked. "Wait… huh?"

  "Tokyo. Ice cream. Let’s go."

  “But we still have—”

  "Not today."

  Ezra ruffled Haru’s hair, grinning despite himself.

  "Genius or not, you’re still a kid. Let’s go do kid shit."

  Haru hesitated for a fraction of a second before breaking into a real smile.

  And for the first time in a long time—

  Ezra saw a bit of the old Haru again.

  The Tokyo ice cream bar was ridiculously over-the-top.

  Glowing menus.

  Flavors that made no damn sense.

  Some dude flipping a waffle cone behind his back like he was an Olympic gymnast.

  Haru, as expected, was in awe. They sat near the window, enjoying their sundaes, when Haru suddenly asked—"Did something like that ever happen to you when you were my age?"

  Ezra nearly choked on a scoop of fudge. He coughed, wiped his mouth, and let out a long, heavy sigh."Yeah," he admitted. "Much worse than just getting beat up." Haru, curious but not pushing, kept eating, waiting for Ezra to elaborate. Ezra rolled his shoulders, stretching like he had to mentally prepare himself. “You know…” he started, smirking. “Ever tell you how I got my childhood nickname?”

  Haru’s eyes lit up. "You had a nickname?"

  Ezra sighed deeply. “Oh yeah. It was Cumstain.”

  Haru froze mid-bite. Then? Absolute, uncontrollable hysteria. Ezra had never heard the kid laugh that hard. Haru’s entire soul left his body as he cackled, nearly falling off his seat. "NOOOOOO WAAAAAYYYY!"

  Ezra groaned, rubbing his temples. “If you tell your parents, or—God forbid—start repeating that word, I swear, you’re a dead man.”

  Haru, still wheezing, wiped tears from his eyes. “I promise… snrk I won’t… but holy shit—Cumstain?! That’s BRUTAL.”

  Ezra scowled. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”

  But… It worked. Haru’s mood was lighter. And for once—Ezra wasn’t pissed about being the punchline.

  As Haru calmed down, he stirred his ice cream absentmindedly. "You know," he murmured. "I never actually wanted to work at Key Labs."

  Ezra paused mid-scoop. "What?"

  "I mean, it’s cool," Haru admitted, "but I always wanted to live in the forested hills back home."

  Ezra raised a brow. "Huh. Wouldn’t have pegged you for a hillside hobo."

  Haru snorted, laughing. “That’s basically what I wanted to be!” He twirled his spoon. "My parents… they groomed me for this. Told me that once I made it to the lab, I could be anyone I wanted in the world."

  Ezra leaned back. "And yet, here you are."

  Haru sighed dramatically, wiping an imaginary tear. "A lab rat instead of a hillside hobo."

  Ezra chuckled. "Tragic." With moods lifted, they wrapped up their ice cream. And for once? Things felt normal.

  At least—until they stepped outside.

  Ezra’s first mistake was thinking he could just enjoy his ice cream and head back to the train station without incident. His second mistake was not immediately recognizing the danger when Haru tugged on his sleeve and whispered: "Ezra. That guy. Is he wearing a White-Coat?"

  Ezra looked up—and immediately regretted it. There, in the middle of the Tokyo street performance square, stood a man in a white lab coat. Except—this wasn’t a real White-Coat.

  No. This was a parody of one.

  The coat was too long, billowing dramatically despite the lack of any breeze. His wild, untamed hair stuck out in all directions, like a mad scientist who had licked an electrical socket for breakfast. And beside him—Oh no.

  Beside him stood a woman with a striped lion tail, twitching feline ears, and a confident smirk.

  Ezra squinted. Hard. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. "Are furries making a comeback?"

  Haru giggled, delighted. "Ezra, don’t be mean!"

  But before Ezra could respond, the mad scientist lookalike swiveled toward them, his expression dramatic and theatrical, his voice booming over the square.

  "You there!" Ezra stiffened. Oh no. The man pointed directly at him, his presence commanding an almost unnatural amount of attention. "My good sir!" he declared. "Do you dare take offense to my lovely granddaughter?!"

  Ezra, without hesitation, groaned and facepalmed.

  "Yeah, Ezra," Haru nudged him with his elbow. "Don’t call her a furry."

  Ezra turned slowly, eyes narrowed to the size of murder dots. "Haru," he said with unwavering conviction, "I will STRANGLE YOU WITH THAT TAIL."

  The lion girl gasped dramatically, clutching her chest like a damsel in distress. "Oh!" she cried. "How cruel! How unjust! Such baseless accusations upon my noble lineage!"

  Ezra’s entire soul left his body. A crowd started gathering. He could hear the whispers, the murmurs, the telltale sound of cameras clicking. The mad scientist man took a step forward, flipping his lab coat with a dramatic flourish. "You, sir," he bellowed, "have insulted the honor of my fair granddaughter! I demand… an APOLOGY!"

  Ezra’s eye twitched. Oh, for the love of—

  Haru, now completely immersed in the situation, suddenly straightened his posture, planting his hands on his hips. Then, with a completely over-the-top medieval accent, he declared: "My good sir, dost thou claim offense where none twas intended? Forsooth! My companion here is but a simple man of little decorum! Verily, he doth not comprehend the finer points of chivalry!"

  Ezra inhaled through his nose. Slowly. Deeply. Resisting the urge to punt Haru into the sun. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "Fine. FINE." He turned to the lion girl, raising his hands in defeat. "I’m sorry. Jeeeez."

  The lion girl smiled. Then, with graceful feline movements, she crouched down beside Haru and ruffled his hair. "Oh, you’re absolutely adorable," she purred.

  Haru, grinning like an idiot, turned back to Ezra. And with pure, unfiltered evil in his voice, he smirked and said—"Oh, she's HOT hot. You like her, don't you?"

  Ezra froze. The lion girl giggled. Then, to Ezra’s absolute horror— She hugged him. Ezra went completely stiff. Not because of the hug itself—But because of an oddly familiar feeling.

  Déjà vu.

  Like he had felt this before. Like this moment had already happened, somewhere, somewhen. And then—The crowd cooed. "Awwwwww!"

  And—PHONES.

  So many phones.

  OH NO.

  Ezra didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t wait for fate to solidify his downfall. He grabbed Haru like a suitcase—one arm under his legs, the other around his torso—And he BOOKED IT.

  "EZRA! WAIT!" Haru wheezed, bouncing in his grip like an oversized plushie.

  "NOPE. NOT GETTING LABELED A FURRY TODAY."

  Ezra sprinted toward the train station, dodging pedestrians, ignoring the delighted laughter behind him. "EZRA, YOU’RE MAKING IT LOOK WORSE!" Ezra ignored him. His dad might have married a furry. But he? He refused to be part of the next generation.

  Not today, Satan.

  The train ride back was too quiet.Ezra had finally started to relax, letting the chaos of the day fade into the background noise of the train’s rhythmic movement.

  Then—

  He patted his pockets. And his stomach dropped. His phone was gone.

  He patted again. Checked his jacket. Checked his work pants. Nothing.

  A slow, creeping dread settled in his chest. His eye twitched. "Haru," he said, voice dangerously calm. "Did you take my phone again?"

  Haru, mid-way through watching another episode of Tenzai Raikou on the train’s TV, looked up confused. His hands were empty. "No," Haru said. "You literally just gave it to me earlier."

  Silence. Ezra’s entire body stiffened. No. Oh, fuck no.

  THOSE FURRY BASTARDS!

  His breath caught, rage slowly building behind his exhausted expression. He had been swindled. Scammed. Robbed by two street performers in broad daylight. Sure, his data was backed up on cloud storage—But that wasn’t the point.

  That was his dad’s phone. The one he had kept all these years. The sentimental weight sunk like a rock in his gut. Gone. Ezra slumped back in his seat, staring blankly out the window, his reflection looking like a man who had lost a part of his soul. Haru, now realizing just how bad this was, stayed completely silent.

  Ezra would feel like absolute shit for the rest of the week.

  Haru had his own phone now. At first, Ezra didn’t care.The kid was quiet, and if talking to his imaginary girlfriend "Ki-Ki" kept him occupied, well—whatever. But then?

  Then, Ezra started noticing things. Haru didn’t just talk to Ki-Ki. He whispered. He hid his phone screen when Ezra walked past. He’d smile and nod like he was receiving actual instructions.

  At first? Ezra thought nothing of it. But that changed real quick the day Clover popped in unannounced. The moment Haru saw her—His phone vanished into his pocket like a magician’s trick.

  And then—Clover turned to Ezra. Her golden eyes cold, calculating. "Come with me."

  Ezra didn’t get a choice. Clover led him to a small, private room, then turned without preamble. "Your phone."

  Ezra blinked. "What?"

  "Give it to me."

  Ezra snorted. "Lady, is this a joke? Am I on some kind of Japanese furry ‘Punk’d’ prank show?"

  Snap. Ezra barely registered the sound of Clover’s fingers snapping before—SCHWACK!

  A fist cracked against his jaw. Ezra hit the floor hard, pain exploding through his skull. And standing right behind him, like he had materialized from thin air—Was a Silent Legion guard. "That’s for running your tongue," the guard muttered.

  Ezra groaned, dazed, trying to sit up—THUNK!!

  Pain shot through his entire body as the guard’s boot collided directly with his nuts. Ezra collapsed again, gasping, seeing entire constellations. "And that’s for trying my patience," the guard added, casually adjusting his gloves.

  Ezra’s entire body locked up. The pain lingered, radiating through him like a nuclear event. Clover waited. Calm. Silent. Ezra needed a full minute and an ice pack—neither of which he had. He rolled onto his side, voice hoarse, trembling with pain. "Don’t… have my phone," he gritted out.

  Clover’s expression didn’t change."Who stole it?" she asked simply.

  Ezra’s jaw clenched. "How the fuck should I know?" he snapped. "Some weird furry street performing couple."

  Silence. Then, Clover simply turned. With a wave of her fingers, the guard vanished like a ghost. And then—she left. Just like that. No further words. No follow-up questions. Ezra lay on the cold floor, breathing through his teeth, cursing her entire bloodline.

  Ezra limped back into the lab minutes later, still fuming, his jaw still throbbing, his entire being radiating pure hatred. Haru barely glanced up before freezing. His eyes landed on the fresh bruise forming around Ezra’s eye.

  Haru’s voice lowered. "Did she—"

  Ezra cut him off immediately. "Fell down the stairs, kid."

  Haru frowned. "But she was—"

  "Fell. Down. Stairs." End of discussion. Haru didn’t push. Didn’t say another word. But Ezra could feel it. The way the kid got quieter. The way he kept stealing glances at Ezra’s face, like he wanted to ask something—anything—but knew better.

  Ezra muttered every curse known to mankind under his breath as he went back to work.

  They worked in silence for a while. Then—Haru pulled out his phone. Ezra, already on edge, side-eyed him. The kid was calling Ki-Ki again. Ezra should have ignored it. Should have let it go.

  But the way Haru was talking… the way he nodded like he was getting instructions from someone real… It bugged him.

  And whatever they were working on together? It wasn’t normal. Haru’s side project—theoretical gravity teleportation. A completely insane, experimental concept. Something that should have taken them weeks just to outline. And yet?

  Somehow, half of it was already done.

  Ezra rubbed his temples, watching Haru work. His fingers flew across schematics and equations like he was possessed, like someone was whispering the answers straight into his ear. Ki-Ki was helping him speedrun an experiment that wasn’t even possible yet.

  And Ezra?

  Ezra was starting to feel like he was missing a very, very big piece of the puzzle. Then— The door slammed open.

  Clover. Again. But this time? She was here for Haru. Ezra wasn’t having it. Not today. Not after everything. Before Haru could even react, Ezra grabbed an experimental gravity repulsor from storage, flipping it in his hand and stepping between them.

  The tension hit the room like a sledgehammer. Clover tilted her head slightly. Ezra’s grip tightened. "The kid’s working," he said. "You want something? You tell me first."

  Clover’s golden eyes gleamed. Then, with a snap of her fingers—The room filled with guards. They had appeared so fast, so silently, Ezra barely had time to register the movement.

  Clover smiled—soft, almost condescending. "Would you like your explanation," she murmured, "on your tombstone or your obituary?"

  Ezra’s breath caught. But before he could respond— Haru stepped forward. "I’ll go."

  Ezra turned sharply, eyes widening. Haru looked… calm. Too calm. Ezra could feel it—something was wrong. But Haru wasn’t budging.

  Clover didn’t even acknowledge Ezra anymore. Just turned on her heel, motioning for Haru to follow.

  And he did.

  Ezra watched them leave, his grip trembling on the repulsor device. Nothing about this sat right.

  Nothing.

  And for the first time in a long time—Ezra realized he wasn’t in control of anything anymore.

  Haru returned hours later. Ezra didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t demand an explanation. Not here, not where walls had ears.

  Instead, he just took one look at Haru’s expression—And sighed. "Pack your stuff," Ezra muttered, grabbing his coat. "We’re going out."

  Haru blinked up at him, confused. "Where?" Ezra didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

  They took a train out of Tokyo, heading for a quiet restaurant nestled in the countryside. Ezra had always liked this place. It was secluded, peaceful—the kind of spot where nobody would bother them. The kind of place where they could actually talk. And if Mr. Key or anyone else came looking for them? That was Ezra’s problem, not Haru’s.

  Ezra let Haru settle in first, let the kid gather his thoughts as they found a quiet table near the window. Only after they ordered drinks did Ezra finally lean back and break the silence. "Lay it on me straight, kid," he said, voice low. "What happened?"

  Haru hesitated. He toyed with the chopsticks, eyes flickering with unease. But by this point? Ezra might be the only person he can actually trust. Haru exhaled sharply. "They took my phone."

  Ezra’s entire body stiffened. That was all he needed to hear. That one sentence was enough for Ezra to put the puzzle together. His fingers drummed against the wooden table, thoughts racing. Clover had interrogated him about his phone first. And now? The Silent Legion had taken Haru’s.

  Ezra’s jaw clenched. His next question came out sharper than intended. "Who the fuck is Ki-Ki?"

  Haru flinched slightly but didn’t look away.

  Ezra’s eyes bored into him, his patience dangerously thin. "What do they want with her?" Ezra pressed.

  Haru swallowed, then finally spoke. "Ki-Ki was my AI assistant."

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Ezra blinked once. Then twice. Then leaned back with an unimpressed look. "AI," he repeated flatly. "On the phone?"

  Haru nodded.

  Ezra let out a short, dry laugh. "Kid, c’mon. Everyone knows you gotta type with the interface. You don’t talk to an AI assistant. That’s—"

  Haru shook his head. "She wasn’t an app."

  Ezra’s smirk faltered.

  Haru hesitated, searching for the right words. "She was the phone."

  Silence. Ezra frowned. "What?"

  "I mean… I don’t know how to explain it," Haru said, fidgeting with the edge of the menu. "I wasn’t talking to an AI. I was talking with the phone itself."

  Ezra squinted. "The phone. Itself."

  Haru nodded. "There was no way they were gonna find anything," Haru added, almost desperate now. "Ki-Ki said so. She could hide herself—she was safe."

  Ezra could see how much it troubled him. The kid was genuinely distressed. But Ezra could also tell he wasn’t saying everything. Something still wasn’t adding up.

  Ezra folded his arms. "Who was she, really?"

  Haru tensed. "Ezra…"

  Ezra raised a brow. "Kid, I’ve seen grown adults do backflips in lab coats. I’ve watched a goat-headed man stand in the shadows judging me. I’ve been slapped, kicked, and possibly indoctrinated by a cult that thinks they’re the guardians of history."

  He leaned in, staring Haru dead in the eyes.

  "There is nothing you can say that will top the nonsense I’ve been through. And, by the way, my dad married a furry."

  Haru hesitated. Then, finally— He spoke.

  "Ki-Ki…" he swallowed. Then—"Ki-Ki is the core."

  Ezra’s mind blanked. His entire thought process just stopped. His face was completely unreadable. Then—slowly—he exhaled through his nose. "Touche, you little shit."

  Ezra scrubbed his hands down his face. "Nope," he muttered. "I’m not doing this."

  Haru blinked. "What?"

  Ezra pointed at him. "No cryptic bullshit until after this year. Haven’t the two of us had enough?"

  Haru hesitated. Then—he reluctantly nodded.

  Ezra sighed. "Good."

  Then, he flagged down the waiter. "We’re getting pizza."

  Without their phones, without any distractions, they just talked.

  For the first time in a long time, there was no Silent Legion breathing down their necks.

  Ezra shared stories about his construction days—about stupid rookie mistakes, about Shane’s endless crusade against incompetence, about how he once saw a guy duct tape a power drill to a broomstick to reach a high screw.

  Haru, for his part, shared his own struggles. How he never really had friends. How everyone else just felt dumb to him. But Ezra? "You're actually fun," Haru admitted, stirring his drink. "And I don’t just say that to anyone."

  Ezra scoffed. "High praise, coming from a hillside hobo."

  Haru snorted into his cup, laughing. And just for a moment— Just for one small sliver of time— Everything felt normal. Like they weren’t being watched. Like nothing was wrong. Ezra held onto that feeling for as long as he could.

  Ezra was done.

  Done with the mind games.

  Done with the headaches.

  Done with the Silent Legion’s bullshit.

  He needed a distraction. Something fun. Something that could electrocute a grown man into next Tuesday if necessary. So, naturally—"Hey, Haru," Ezra said, tapping his fingers against the workbench. "You know what would be a great idea?"

  Haru, still nibbling on the last of his pizza crust, blinked up at him. "A device that makes Clover disappear?"

  Ezra smirked. "Close." He leaned in. "A magic wand."

  Haru frowned, intrigued. "Like… a Harry Potter wand?"

  "Nah, kid." Ezra grinned. "A real magic wand. A science wand."

  Haru’s eyes lit up. "Ooooohhh."

  Ezra clapped his hands together. "Now, picture this: A little tool, looks like it could jumpstart a car battery—nice and inconspicuous."

  Haru nodded, already mentally drafting schematics.

  "But," Ezra continued, "with the flick of a switch…gravity amplifies the amperage and—" He mimed a quick jab forward. "ZAP!"

  Haru leaned forward, excited. "How much power we talking?"

  "20,000 watts."

  Haru’s entire face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "That’s enough to—"

  "Either stun your target… or fry ‘em into crispy bacon."

  Haru burst out laughing. "That’s—that’s insane."

  Ezra grinned.

  "Oh, and for safety, we slap on an OSHA-APPROVED sticker—" Haru gasped, horrified and delighted."—AND a yellow power tool company logo so it looks passable as an industrial tool." Haru doubled over, wheezing.

  "This is so illegal," he choked out.

  Ezra shrugged. "Nah, kid. It’s innovative."

  And so, with gleeful mischief, they got to work. Ezra handled the exterior casing, making sure it looked just stupid enough to pass as a real tool. Haru, the brilliant little gremlin that he was, took care of the technical details, engineering the circuits, refining the amperage amplification, ensuring it wouldn’t backfire.

  Ezra, of course, did not tell Haru about the hidden switch. The kid was smart. He’d figure it out. For funsies, they added a safety warning label in the smallest text possible:

  "WARNING: MAY CAUSE INSTANT REGRET."

  And just like that— The Industrial Taser Wand? was born.

  Just in case.

  Ezra was running out of time. For what? No fucking clue. But his gut told him—whatever was happening, it was closing in. And that? That was enough to make his skin crawl. The night before duty call, Ezra tossed and turned.

  And then—The dream returned.

  The same angelic city. The same horrors. The same soul-star, hanging weakly in the sky. But this time—It spoke.

  Soft, like it was fading. "Please… hurry… I can't… -bzzt- much longer…"

  Ezra reached out—but the vision collapsed into darkness. And then— Something new. Something hidden in the void. A voice, low and warning. "Beware… beware of those who seek to bind your future. They are closer than you think."

  Ezra jerked awake, his breath ragged, sweat clinging to his skin. The words echoed in his skull. He stared at the ceiling, hands gripping the sheets, his pulse pounding. Running out of time.

  For what? Who the fuck knows at this point. But one thing was certain—Promises were meant to be broken.

  The next morning, Ezra didn’t talk about the dream. Didn’t tell Haru. Didn’t tell anyone. Instead—He made sure to bring the “Magic Wand.”

  Just in case. Call it a hunch. Because at this point? That’s close enough.

  He tucked it into his pocket, making sure it was concealed. If someone found it? "Oops," he’d say. "Forgot it was there." Plausible deniability. The Silent Legion had metal detectors, X-rays—they could scan for anything out of place. To cover himself, he threw in a hot-stick voltage tester, something that looked just as technical as the wand itself.

  Because as any good lawyer knows—if you’re gonna commit assault with a baseball bat, at least keep a baseball and a glove in the car.

  Ezra and Haru made their descent into the core. Neither of them rushed. Haru, for once, wasn’t being a little shit. He stuck closer to Ezra, quiet but watchful. Ezra handed him the checklist. "You do the recording, I’ll do the checkmarks." Haru nodded.

  For once, it felt like a normal day. Everything seemed to be going according to protocol. And that?

  That was the worst sign of all.

  The moment Ezra and Haru completed the punch list, the lights cut off. Everything—the overheads, the backup power, the hum of the generators—all of it died in an instant. Alarms blared. A sharp, ear-piercing wail cut through the silence as red emergency lights flickered to life.

  Then—those too cut off.

  A metallic clunk echoed through the chamber. The doors locked.

  And just like that—they were trapped. Ezra exhaled slowly, blinking in the suffocating darkness. Haru was too quiet. He reached for his hotstick voltage tester, clicking on the built-in flashlight. "Haru!? Sound off!"

  The beam pierced the dark, searching. A shadow moved near the back wall. "I’m here!" Haru’s voice was tight, scared, but steady. Ezra’s flashlight caught his face—pale, wide-eyed, gripping the edge of a control panel. Good. Still alive.

  Ezra kept his breathing even. "Stick close." They reached the door controls, but the panel was unresponsive.

  Haru exhaled through his nose, visibly unsettled. "Maybe it’s part of the test?" he suggested, barely believing his own words.

  Ezra pressed a few more buttons, then let out a slow, unamused sigh. "Kid, this ain't a drill."

  They waited. Ten minutes. Then twenty. Then half an hour. Nothing. Haru shifted. "We… might need another way out."

  Ezra frowned. "Like what?"

  Haru hesitated. "…The vents?"

  Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose. "No."

  "Why not?"

  "Because," Ezra muttered, leaning against the dead console, "if we’re not already on a security watchlist, crawling through the damn air vents is a great way to get put on one."

  Haru huffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah? Well, so is getting locked in the dark."

  Another ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Then another half hour. Ezra sighed. "…Alright, fine. Your dumbass idea is starting to sound brilliant."

  The flashlight beam cut across the room, tracing along the ceiling until—There. A vent. Ezra climbed onto a metal crate and boosted Haru up. "Fit through?"

  Haru wriggled his way inside, grimacing. "Just barely."

  Ezra hoisted himself up next, squeezing into the metal passage. They crawled forward, the vents creaking under their weight. For what felt like forever, they inched through the darkness. Then—Haru stopped. Ezra frowned. "What’s wrong?"

  Haru pointed ahead. The vent split into a fork. "We have to go this way."

  Ezra raised a brow. "How do you know?" Then—A sound. A low, mechanical whirr. Boots echoed in the distance. And then—a saw. Ezra stiffened. Something was being cut. The Silent Legion was either trying to get in… or trying to get out.

  Neither was a good sign. They crawled forward, faster now. Haru found an opening ahead. A soft glow seeped through. They pushed the vent panel open—and dropped down into the unknown.

  Ezra landed first, gripping Haru’s arm to steady him. The glow was artificial. A generator spotlight. The Silent Legion was nowhere in sight. Just cold corridors, stretching out into the void. Ezra swept the flashlight across the walls, scanning for landmarks, exits, anything.

  Then—a door. It was sealed tight, but not completely shut. A tiny crack of space at the edge. Ezra wedged his fingers into the gap—And with a grunt of effort—He pried it open.

  What lay beyond made his stomach drop. A maintenance tunnel. Leading directly to the core. Ezra’s pulse quickened. And then—the headaches began. The core pulsed, waves of energy rippling outward—And suddenly, Ezra wasn’t there anymore.

  He was in a cockpit. Staring out of a visor into space. A massive rocket ship hovered ahead. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen—ornate, intricate, almost royal. A portal opened beyond it. And as the rocket ship drifted forward—It began to disintegrate.

  Metal peeled away in layers, dissolving into nothing. And when it was completely stripped—There it was. The star. The same one. The same weakened, desperate pulse.

  The ship vanished, and the star was sucked into the portal. Ezra’s own vehicle pulled up with impossible G-force, banking away at the last moment— And then—Darkness.

  Something smacked against his cheek. "Ezra! Wake up!"

  He gasped—eyes snapping open. Haru was leaning over him, his small hands patting his face. Ezra’s body was cold, his limbs heavy. They were back. Back at the core. The power was restored.

  There was no telling how much time had passed. They had to go. NOW.

  Ezra pulled himself up, breathing hard. Haru helped him steady himself. Together, they ran. Corridor after corridor, twisting through the underground maze, trying to navigate their way back up. Then—Ezra wrenched open a final door—And froze.

  Clover.

  Waiting.

  Ezra’s pulse spiked, instincts screaming. Her expression was unreadable, her golden eyes glinting in the dim emergency lighting. She lifted her hand—Ezra moved first.

  His fingers snapped around her wrist, stopping her mid-motion. Before she could react—His other hand darted to his pocket. The Magic Wand was out in a flash—Pressed against her neck.

  The moment hung suspended in tension. His heart pounded, blood roaring in his ears. "Snap your fingers one more time," he growled, voice sharp, dangerous, "And I will sizzle you past well-done crispy."

  His grip tightened. Adrenaline surged through his veins, pure instinct driving him. For the first time—Clover hesitated.

  Clover did the unimaginable. She laughed. Not just a chuckle. Not a smirk. A low, amused, almost delighted laugh that made Ezra’s stomach drop. Her free hand wrapped around his, the one gripping the Magic Wand. She didn’t push it away.

  She pressed it harder against her own throat. Ezra’s breath hitched. Then—her fingers moved. They slid over the hidden power switch—And flipped it.

  To full power.

  "Oh, you even brought me a vibrator." Her voice was dry, unbothered. "How thoughtful." She pressed the button. Lightning burst through her body. Ezra’s eyes widened in horror. 20,000 watts of high-amperage electricity surged into her.

  The current arced to the surrounding metal, snapping and crackling with enough force to drop a man in one hit. But Clover—Clover didn’t flinch.

  She laughed.

  A slow, sultry, almost mocking laugh that sent ice-cold terror down Ezra’s spine. Ezra’s grip slackened. He stumbled back—nearly tripping over Haru. The kid was frozen, wide-eyed, barely breathing.

  Clover let the electricity dance over her skin, her head tilting slightly, watching Ezra’s face. It was like she was waiting for him to process what was happening. To truly understand. It didn’t hurt her. Not at all.

  The Magic Wand, their one ace in the hole, the device designed to stun or kill—It TICKLED HER.

  Ezra’s chest tightened with panic.

  Clover sighed, like she’d had her fun, and clicked the wand off. She tossed it back to Ezra casually, as if she were handing him a cheap dollar-store flashlight. Then—she turned to Haru. Her tone shifted instantly, cold and commanding. "Follow the emergency lights. They’ll take you back to the elevator."

  Haru didn’t hesitate. Didn’t argue. Didn’t even look at Ezra. He just turned and ran.

  Ezra, however, wasn’t dismissed. Clover stepped up to him, her golden eyes locking onto his. She extended a hand. "The report. Now."

  Ezra’s fingers shook as he clumsily reached for the safety report tucked into his coat. He could barely register his own movements. His brain was still stuck on what had just happened. Clover took the papers without even glancing at them. Then?

  She just dismissed him. Just like that. Like nothing had happened. Like he wasn’t standing there, shaking, his body locked in primal fear. He couldn’t move.

  Clover’s eyes flicked over him, unimpressed. She let out a small, exasperated sigh. "I’m aware you had no part in this… ‘malfunction,’" she said evenly. "You don’t even know where the backup power banks are, let alone how to short-circuit an entire facility."

  Ezra’s pulse hammered against his ribs. She knew. She knew he had nothing to do with this. Which meant—This was a test. A test he never signed up for. "You have until I’m pissed off to get the fuck out of here," Clover added.

  Ezra’s legs finally unlocked. He turned—And ran. He sprinted for the exit elevator like his life depended on it. Because he was pretty damn sure it did.

  Ezra caught up with Haru at the elevator, both of them breathing hard, still reeling from what had just happened. Neither of them spoke at first. They just stepped in, the doors hissing shut behind them, sealing them off from the horrors below. The elevator lurched upward, slow, painfully slow. It was running on backup power.

  Every second dragged.

  The only sound was the soft hum of the lift, the faint flicker of emergency lighting casting uneasy shadows against the walls. Haru shifted, glancing toward Ezra. "You spent time in construction, right?" he muttered, voice tight. "Maybe you have an answer."

  Ezra sighed, leaning back against the wall, rubbing his face.

  "Was this a test?" Haru asked, his tone cautious.

  Ezra let out a low, humorless chuckle. "I don’t know," he admitted.

  Haru waited, watching him. Ezra thought about it. Deep in his gut—something told him no. If it were just the main lights cutting out? Sure. That could be a test. But the emergency power going down, too? The saws? The sound of steel being ripped apart?

  Ezra shook his head. "No," he murmured. "Something bad was happening down there."

  Haru swallowed. Ezra could see it in his expression. The kid wasn't dumb. He knew. Knew this wasn’t just some Silent Legion game. Knew they had stumbled into something they weren’t meant to see. Ezra rolled his shoulders, exhaling. "Better let this one go, kid," he muttered.

  Haru didn’t argue. Didn’t even try. He just nodded. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the ride.

  The stato-jet home was quiet. Too quiet. Ezra stared out the window, watching the clouds stretch out beneath him, his mind a tangled mess of half-formed thoughts. Then—As soon as he landed at the airport, a package was waiting for him.

  No markings. No postage. No sender.

  It was delivered just for him. Ezra hesitated, heart pounding as he carefully peeled it open. Inside… A bottle of vintage wine. Dated to Roman Empire times. A handwritten note inside. His stomach turned cold. "I was wondering if you'd ever grow a spine. Congratulations. Don't make me rip it out. ? Clover"

  Ezra stared at the heart at the end.

  It shattered what little remained of his soul.

  Ezra came back physically fine, but his sanity had been shattered. His family greeted him with love, warmth, and celebration. Ezra? Ezra played along.

  Smiling. Laughing. Pretending. But Ciarra noticed. She always noticed. The way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking. The way his eyes darted toward the corners of the room, searching for shadows that weren’t there.

  The way his smile never quite reached his eyes. Something had happened. Something bad. And Ezra? He wasn’t talking about it.

  It was the middle of the holiday vacation when it happened. Ezra sat cradling Adam in his arms, the boy’s tiny body warm and heavy against his chest. Adam had fallen asleep, soft breaths tickling against Ezra’s shirt. Across from him, Ciarra curled up against Seth, resting against his chest, his arm lazily draped around her. Julie was in the kitchen with Nonna, chatting as they prepared dinner.

  The air smelled of fresh bread and simmering herbs. For a moment, it felt almost normal. Julie called for him. "Ezra! Can you grab the—"

  Ezra shifted, careful not to jostle Adam as he got up. He started toward the kitchen. Then—Pain.

  A sudden migraine tore through his skull, so violent, so immediate, he stumbled mid-step. His vision blurred. The room tilted. His breath caught. His knees nearly buckled. Then—A hand.

  Soft, firm—gently placed on his shoulder. Ezra looked up. And his blood ran cold. Standing right before him— Mr. Shoelace. Ezra’s body locked up, every nerve screaming. Mr. Shoelace smiled softly, sympathetically. "You don’t have much time, kiddo," he murmured. "Hang in there—I’ll try to buy you some more."

  Ezra’s pulse pounded against his temples. "Wh—"

  Before he could fully process what was happening—Another sharp, blinding pain. Like something inside his skull was splitting apart. His vision fractured. His steps faltered. And then—He dropped Adam.

  A tiny, helpless body slipped from his arms. A sickening thump as the boy hit the floor backwards—His head striking hard.

  A shriek. Someone cried out—but Ezra couldn’t tell who. His body collapsed. His world faded. And then—Darkness.

  Ezra woke dazed, weightless, as if he were floating in a nightmare. His vision swam, but the world around him wasn’t darkness anymore. Soft sheets. The familiar scent of home. And beside him—Ciarra. Her presence was warm, her hands steady, tending to him with quiet care. The headaches were gone. But in their place?

  Dread.

  A creeping, suffocating dread. The moment reality caught up, the weight of it crushed him. His mind snapped to the last thing he remembered. Adam. Adam slipping from his arms. Adam hitting the floor. His chest seized in panic. He sat up too fast, his breath sharp, eyes wide—"ADAM!!"

  Ciarra reached out instantly, pressing a gentle but firm hand against his chest. "Shhhhh," she whispered, her voice low, calming. "Julie’s taking care of it." The words barely registered. Ezra felt his heart hammering as he lay back against the pillow, numb with shame.

  What had he done? The door burst open. Seth stood in the doorway, panting, worry plastered across his face. "Ezra! What the hell happened?!"

  Ezra opened his mouth—but before he could speak, Ciarra’s hand gripped his shoulder, firm. The same way Ezra had silenced Haru back in Japan. A silent message. Let her handle this. Ciarra turned to Seth, voice measured, steady. "It was just a sudden drop in blood pressure," she reassured him. "Made him faint. I’ve got it under control."

  Seth hesitated. His worry didn’t fade completely, but Ciarra was the medical professional here. He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead. "Alright," he muttered. "As long as you’ve got him…"

  Ezra said nothing. Couldn’t say anything. Seth’s gaze lingered, and then— "I’m going to check on Julie at the hospital," he finally said.

  And just like that—he was gone. The door clicked shut. And everything was quiet again. Ezra covered his face. And broke.

  He sobbed—loud, unrestrained, body-wracking sobs that tore through him like a flood. His body shook violently, unable to contain the sheer overwhelming grief. Ciarra rested a hand on his head, soft and comforting. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple, whispering: "These things happen."

  Ezra clenched his jaw, trying desperately to believe her. But there was no coming back from something like this. His son. His own son.

  Ciarra shooshed him, her fingers brushing through his hair, voice laced with gentle urgency. "Listen to me," she murmured. "These things happen. But Ezra… if you hold onto whatever’s causing this distress, it won’t end well for you." Her grip on him tightened slightly. "Please, Ezra," she whispered, "share with Auntie. What happened in Japan?"

  Ezra’s throat tightened. He couldn’t tell her everything. Didn’t even know where to begin. His breath hitched. His mind spun. "I don’t know!!" he choked out.

  Ciarra’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He buried his face in her chest, muffling his sobs against the only comfort he could find. She let him cry. Let him empty himself of the weight pressing on his soul. She didn’t rush him. Didn’t push.

  Only when his sobs quieted did she gently reach for the glass of water beside the bed, pressing it into his hands. "Start from the beginning," she said softly.

  Ezra’s fingers tightened around the glass. He stared down at the water, his breath shaky. Then—He broke. He told her everything. About the vision. About the cockpit. About the ship disintegrating before his eyes. About thousands of souls vanishing into nothing. About pulling up at the last possible second.

  His voice was hoarse by the time he finished. Silence filled the room. At first, Ezra thought Ciarra was just processing. Then—He noticed. Her petting had stopped. Ezra wiped his face, blinking up at her—And froze.

  Ciarra’s expression was vacant. Unfocused. Her gaze stared straight ahead, locked onto nothing—a thousand-yard stare. And her hands? They were trembling.

  Ezra waved a hand in front of Ciarra’s face. Nothing. Her breathing was steady, but her eyes—unfocused, locked onto nothing.

  "Ciarra," he said, shifting upright. "Hey. Hey, snap out of it." Nothing. Her hands trembled in her lap, her body so eerily still otherwise. "Ciarra!"

  A flicker of movement—her pupils dilated, her fingers twitched. Then—she inhaled sharply, gasping like she had been holding her breath. Her whole body jerked, her eyes finally snapping to him, wild and dazed, like she had just been wrenched from a nightmare.

  Ezra had seen shock before. And this? This was a full-blown trauma response.

  He reached for her hand, but she pulled away—not in fear, not in disgust—but like she was struggling to ground herself. Her chest rose and fell in deep, shaky breaths, her hand covering her mouth. Then—she did the only thing she could think to do. She hugged him.

  Tightly.

  Almost desperately. Ezra returned it without thinking. She was shaking. When she finally pulled back, she forced a laugh—but it was brittle, unnatural.

  "Wow," she murmured, brushing stray strands of hair behind her ear. "You really have gravitons on the brain, huh? This stuff’s messing with you, Ezra. Maybe—maybe it’s just all the exposure, y’know? Your neurons could be out of sync, maybe you just need a cleanse—"

  Ezra’s face darkened. "Ciarra," he muttered.

  "Maybe a few months off," she rushed on, her hands gripping each other now. "Yeah—yeah, that’s probably it. Just step away from the lab for a bit, clear your head, purge the adverse effects—"

  "Ciarra."

  "Maybe we just need a little smoke sesh," she chuckled weakly. "You know, like before? You always get loopy, we could—"

  "ENOUGH WITH THE BULLSHIT!!"

  Ezra’s voice cracked through the room like a gunshot. Ciarra flinched. She stared at him, her mask shattering on the spot. Then, without a word, she stood. And she left.

  Ezra blinked, startled. "Ciarra?" She didn’t acknowledge him. She just kept walking. Right out the door. Into the cold.

  Ezra forced himself to his feet, his legs still weak, but functional. He followed.

  Ciarra sat on the bench in Nonna’s backyard, wrapped in her own arms, a peace pipe clutched between her fingers. Smoke curled in the air. Her hands were still shaking.

  She was crying. Ezra sighed. Without a word, he sat beside her. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. Ezra exhaled, rubbing his face. "Hey," he muttered. "I shouldn’t have snapped."

  Ciarra sniffed, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve. She didn’t respond. Ezra sighed again.

  "It’s not just Japan," he admitted. "It’s not just the Silent Legion." He rubbed the white streak on his mustache, shaking his head. "There’s something more fucked up happening. And I have fuck-all no clue what it is."

  Ciarra finally glanced at him, but she still said nothing.

  Ezra’s voice lowered. "I’m running out of time," he muttered. "For what? No idea. But something bad is coming. I feel it in my gut. And I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to do."

  The pipe in Ciarra’s hands trembled. Then, softly—"Ezra…" Her voice was shaky, fragile, barely above a whisper. She took a deep, shaking breath. Then, finally—"What you saw… that was my greatest fuckup."

  Ezra stilled. She stared ahead, blinking rapidly, the tears in her eyes refusing to fall. Her chest hitched, and she took another deep drag, but it wasn’t enough to calm her nerves. "I…" she exhaled, shuddering. "I destroyed that ship."

  Ezra’s heart sank.

  "I killed them," she whispered. "I—I killed all of them." Her breath caught—a dry, strangled sob. Her whole body crumpled in on itself.

  Ezra didn’t think. Didn’t question it. He pulled her into a hug. She clung to him like her life depended on it. He rested a hand on her head, petting her softly. "Hey…" he murmured. "It’s not your fault."

  Ciarra let out a choked noise, her hands gripping onto him like an anchor.

  "These things happen," Ezra whispered.

  That was all it took. She finally broke. She sobbed into his chest, her entire body trembling violently. Ezra held her.

  Tightly.

  He didn’t know how she did it. Didn’t know when she did it. Didn’t know why the hell something like that wasn’t all over the Solarnet. But in this moment? None of that mattered. Because right now? Right now, they both just needed a hug.

  And that? That was more than anything Ciarra could have ever hoped for.

  Ciarra’s sobs had finally slowed, her breathing coming in shaky, uneven gasps as she wiped her face against Ezra’s shirt. He just held her, fingers gently rubbing her back, giving her all the time she needed. Then—her voice, hoarse and raw, broke the silence. "You should go."

  Ezra frowned, tilting his head to look at her. "Go where?"

  Ciarra swallowed, her throat still thick with emotion. "St. Mary’s." She pulled back slightly, eyes still red and puffy. "Julie’s probably still there."

  Ezra stiffened. He had been so caught up in everything—Ciarra, the visions, the fallout—that he’d left Julie to deal with Adam alone. He exhaled through his nose, nodding.

  Ciarra gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, before turning her gaze back toward the snowy landscape.

  Ezra didn’t hesitate. He left.

  St. Mary’s was too bright, too sterile, too fucking cold. The moment Ezra stepped inside, he spotted Julie. She was sitting in the waiting area, her hands clutching each other tightly, knuckles white. She was trembling.

  The second her eyes landed on Ezra, something in her snapped. She stood up fast, her whole body tense. Ezra had no explanation. No excuse.

  He fucked up.

  Julie’s breath hitched, her hands clenching into fists. She wanted to hit him. Wanted to scream, yell, throw every ounce of fear and frustration at him. But… Deep down?

  She knew. She knew it was an accident. Her lips trembled. Then—her shoulders collapsed, and she threw her arms around him. Ezra caught her immediately. She buried her face into his chest, her sobs muffled by his coat. He held her, eyes shutting tight.

  The doctor approached moments later. Adam would live.

  But he would need checkups—monitoring for any unseen damage. There was no telling what the fall might have caused. Julie clung to Ezra even tighter. And for the first time in a long time—Ezra felt completely powerless.

  Sometimes, it’s not about what someone says—it’s about what they don’t. Haru has always been loud, always full of life, always running his mouth. But now? Now, he’s silent. And silence like that means one of two things—he’s scared, or he’s waiting for something worse.