Early light streamed across Kaito's visage as he studied the encrypted intelligence. From his elevated safehouse, Tokyo's vastness spread like a complex electronic template – the urban domain he'd gradually subjugated to Nexus authority during ten years of subtle manipulation.

  Tanaka had gone dark. Brisbane operation chief. Foundation evacuation stamp on his file might as well have been a damn middle finger.

  "Predictable."With a delicate clink, Kaito lowered his tea. His criminal network dominated a significant portion of the Pacific. Extortion rackets, contraband tech trading, information stealing, trafficking operations... an extensive illicit system his father had engineered from the disorder of post-Drought Japan. Now it was hemorrhaging leadership.

  The Foundation, flaunting their coveted Exodus vessels and their algorithm determining who warranted rescue according to some calculated "critical value." A rigged game where the wealthy bought their safety while leaving the rest to die.

  Silently, the door retracted into the wall. Jasmine and citrus fragrances preceded her physical entrance. With quiet presence, Mei walked in holding her tablet under her arm and occupied the corner of his desktop. Never the visitor's chair. Never with Mei.

  "Brisbane's fallen off the grid," she explained, near enough that he noticed the light coffee fragrance when she exhaled.

  "Tanaka's finally moved?"

  ""Siphoned off all the money. Three billion credits." She sighed, leaning closer. "Took the blackmail archives too. Third territory this month. They're not even pretending anymore."

  Kaito absorbed this, face still. Brisbane was their Australian stronghold. Pharmaceutical manufacturing labs, system infiltration crews, half the continent's contraband medical supply network. Nothing left behind.

  "Show me the pattern."

  Mei's fingers danced through the holo-display. Regional commanders vanishing. Territories abandoned. Resources disappearing. "They're buying Foundation tickets. Crews figure it out when the boss ghosts. Makes for shit morale when everyone knows they're being left to die."

  Below them, a Nexus drone settled on a clinic rooftop. Black market gene therapies. One of his few operations that helped more than it hurt.

  "There's more." Mei twisted a strand of hair around her finger, staring at the data. "One of my old network contacts just pinged me. Foundation rejection for Martinez."

  Kaito's gaze sharpened. "Show me."

  The data materialized. Martinez, Diego. Former UN Peacekeeper. Widower. Application denied.

  "He called last night," Kaito said quietly. "First time he's asked for anything in twenty years."

  "We've been monitoring his Foundation application for months," Mei noted. "The timing's almost..."

  "Yeah. Just when we're losing territories." Kaito's mouth twitched. "Call it providence."

  Mei shifted closer, something soft in her eyes. "The soldier from the Osaka riots? That Martinez?"

  "Yeah." Kaito's gaze drifted to the window. Martinez. A water canteen offered when most wouldn't spare a drop. The steady voice cutting through chaos. "Stay with me, kid." Simple words that had meant everything to a scared teenager.

  "He checks in every few months," Kaito continued. "Never judged me for joining Nexus. Said he understood why I did it, after what happened with the APU. If the government won't keep water flowing, someone's got to make it happen, even if it means breaking their rules."

  Mei touched his shoulder lightly. "What does he want now?"

  "The Foundation rejected his family application." Kaito's fingers drummed softly against polished wood. "Wouldn't have asked if he had options left."

  "What is it about him, Kaito? This feels different."

  Kaito was silent for a moment. "He was the first person who treated me like I mattered for myself. Not as an heir, not as a future asset. Just as a kid worth saving." His voice hardened. "Foundation's telling him his family isn't worth saving. And they're wrong."

  "You gonna help? One guy?"

  "Not just one." Kaito stood, decision made. "Get me everything on Foundation transport security. Every weak point. And put together a list of our people with families, everyone from street level up."

  Kaito gestured at a family photo on Mei's tablet. "I know your father's had three rejection notices despite his engineering background. Your mother too."

  Mei's professional mask slipped completely. "They keep moving the goalposts. First it was Dad's heart condition, then Mom's age, then suddenly they needed different skill sets. Meanwhile, some Foundation director's nephew with a finance degree gets approved immediately."

  "Other bosses wanna abandon their people to die? Fine." Kaito's eyes gleamed cold in the morning light. "We're doing something different."

  "With what plan? You thinking about Smith's project?" Mei's voice lowered. "The way to another habitable world?"

  Kaito's mouth twitched. "Smith's making progress. Just needs the right resources."

  Mei leaned forward, brow furrowed. "Kaito, even if it works, we'd need massive power generation. And what about the other side? We could be sending people into a death trap."

  She stood, pacing, her perfume lingering in the space she'd vacated. "And the other bosses... they won't just let you divert Nexus resources. Tanaka, Chen, Rodriguez, they've all bought their Foundation tickets. If they see you threatening their evacuation plans..."

  Mei shook her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek. "Nexus wasn't built on charity. This is a big risk."

  Kaito met her gaze steadily. "We're running out of time for safe bets."

  "How many people are we talking about saving?" Mei asked.

  "Martinez first. Then we see how far we can push."

  Understanding dawned on her face. "You're starting with Martinez but you're thinking bigger."

  "Martinez isn't just a soldier," Kaito said, his voice taking on rare warmth. "I've seen him walk through hell to save people with nothing but a sidearm and his wits. Man doesn't know the meaning of surrender unless the alternative crosses his moral line. In the riots, he refused direct orders to abandon civilians." He leaned forward. "If we're going to build something on the other side, we'll need leaders who can make hard choices while remembering why we're doing this in the first place."

  "Balance is the key to survival." His personal code. Learned after years watching powerful abandon vulnerable. "You with me?"

  Mei hesitated, calculation crossing her features. Then she nodded, a real smile breaking through. "All the way. You know I'd follow you anywhere, Kaito." Her gaze lingered on him a moment too long before she added, "But we need contingencies. For everyone's sake."

  His name in her mouth carried the easy familiarity of inner circle. The few he trusted. He missed the softness in her eyes as he turned back to the data.

  "Clear that noodle shop where we met last year. Thirteen hundred hours. Full sweep but keep it looking normal." He glanced at Martinez's file again. "Meeting him there."

  "When the other bosses find out we're funneling resources to Smith instead of buying our own Foundation tickets..."

  "Let 'em come." His reflection showed a cold smile that never touched his eyes.

  Mei gathered her tablet, paused at the door. "I'll have security reports on your private channel within the hour." Her voice softened. "This is why I stayed, Kaito. Cause underneath all this..." She gestured at his impeccable office. "You still remember what it means to give a damn."

  She waited a moment, as if hoping for something more, then slipped out when his attention returned to the display.

  After she left, Kaito pulled up Martinez's file again. The picture showed an older man now, face weathered, but the eyes remained the same. The eyes that had seen something worth saving in a terrified kid when everyone else was fighting for themselves.

  Kaito touched the scar below his eye. Martinez had shown him a path where strength came from protecting others rather than using them. And now the universe had given him a chance to repay that lesson.

  "Debts gotta be settled," he murmured, straightening his tie. Even at the end of everything.

  His comm chirped - Mei's specific tone. Kaito welcomed the distraction. "Yes?"

  "Tanaka is downstairs. Security has him in the holding area."

  Kaito straightened his tie. "Garden room."

  "Need extra muscle?" A note of concern slipped through Mei's typically neutral voice.

  "No. Just make sure he's been scanned thoroughly."

  "Done and done. No weapons, but he's carrying three unauthorized data chips and an unregistered neural linkup."

  "Take 'em. Ten minutes in the garden. Let him sweat."

  The water garden. Fifteen years of Kaito's life poured into this slice of tranquility. Stone paths snaking between moss-covered boulders. Shallow pools where koi glided like living brushstrokes. Bamboo filtering harsh sunlight into dappled gold across the ground. A wooden bridge arching over the central pond to a solitary stone bench under a flowering plum tree.

  Kaito knelt at the pond's edge before Tanaka arrived. Tossed food pellets across the water's surface, his fingers clenching around the container hard enough to crack the plastic. Koi erupted from the depths, peaceful gliding replaced by churning water and flashing scales. He watched them cannibalize each other's portions with cold appreciation.

  Tanaka waited by the eastern waterfall when Kaito entered, hands clasped behind his back. His fancy suit couldn't hide the tension bunching his shoulders. He turned, plastering on a face of formal politeness that never reached his eyes.

  "Nakamura-san. Appreciate you making time for me today."

  Kaito took his sweet time moving to the stone bench, motioning for Tanaka to stay on his feet like the bitch he was. Sunlight fractured through bamboo screens, dancing patterns matching the calculations firing behind Kaito's eyes.

  "Been busy, Tanaka. Three billion credits. Impressive theft, even for Nexus standards."

  "A reallocation of resources." The correction slid out smooth as silk. "Uncertain times, prudent measures."

  "Prudent." A dragonfly zipped above the pond, hunting with laser focus. Kaito tracked its path. "That what we're calling abandonment now?"

  "Business is evolving. The Foundation announcement changes everything." Formal tone intact, but fingers twitching at his sides. "You understand certain opportunities require swift action."

  "And actions have consequences." Kaito dug into his pocket, pulled out a small metal disk. Placed it on the bench with a sharp click that sent ripples through nearby water. "Your Nexus access is dead."

  The mask cracked. Tanaka stepped forward. "That's impossible. I have clearance levels that can't be…"

  "Overridden? Already are." Kaito's voice stayed level while his fingers dug into the stone bench hard enough to whiten knuckles. "Authentication codes, encryption keys, network permissions – gone. You really thought you could empty the accounts and just walk?"

  Tanaka's face flushed red. "Outrageous. Fifteen years to the Cartel! Built Brisbane from nothing!"

  "And tore it down in a night." Kaito watched a koi surface, mouth gaping silently for more food. His left hand curled into a fist under his jacket, the tremor in his shoulder barely visible. "Those accounts weren't just operational funds. Safety nets for our people. Retirement for veterans. Medical care for families."

  "Our people?" Tanaka laughed, bitter as burnt coffee. "Wake the fuck up, Kaito. There's no 'our people' anymore. Just who gets off this dying rock and who doesn't."

  The dragonfly struck water with surgical precision. One quick movement. Prey captured. Kaito's eyes narrowed.

  "That's where you're wrong." He pulled out a second object – transparent cube with a miniature ship inside. Held it up, letting sunlight catch it, prison-bar shadows falling across Tanaka's face. "The Exodus Committee got some troubling info about certain passengers. Your family's berths? Reassigned."

  The change hit like lightning. Tanaka's facade shattered, lunging forward until his thighs smacked the pond edge. Koi scattered like bullets.

  "You can't! We're confirmed! We have documentation!" Voice bouncing off garden walls. "My wife, my children…"

  "Will rot planetside with you." Kaito snapped a twig between his fingers. Crack. "Unless you return every credit, plus forty percent penalty. Blackmail archives too, obviously."

  Tanaka's augmented eye whirred, pupil shrinking to a dot. "Won't stand. I have allies in the Committee. People who owe me."

  "Had allies." Kaito stood. A stone tumbled into water with his movement. Splash. "Committee found links between your accounts and a recent quantum server attack. Disturbing correlations. Totally fake, of course, but damn convincing evidence."

  "You framed me."

  "Protected what's mine." Kaito stepped closer, each footfall a deliberate thud on stone. "Think I wouldn't notice? Three territories in a month. You weren't even first to try this shit."

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "I'll be last you threaten." Tanaka's hand darted to his collar – the neural linkup they'd missed. "One signal, my contingency activates. Your network burns."

  Kaito didn't twitch. "Send it."

  Tanaka froze.

  "Go ahead." Kaito gestured at the collar. The waterfall seemed louder suddenly, rushing water drowning the silence. "Hit your failsafe. See what happens."

  Sweat beaded down Tanaka's temple. His finger hovered, shaking.

  "Already quarantined you." Kaito might've been discussing the weather. "Access nodes cut, back channels closed. Your contingency plan got neutralized eight minutes after you walked in this building."

  Garden went quiet except water sounds. Tanaka's hand dropped.

  "What do you want?"

  "Everything back. By morning." Kaito turned toward the exit. His reflection in a pond showed nothing but a stone face and one glowing eye. "Family berths stay in escrow till payment clears. Then find yourself a real deep hole."

  "If I don't pay?" Tanaka called after him.

  Kaito paused. "Then you picked permanent Earth residency. Exodus Committee has zero tolerance for flight risks. Try boarding without clearance, their security protocols get real... terminal."

  Door slid shut. Tanaka left alone in beauty he couldn't see anymore.

  "He take the deal?" Mei fell into step beside Kaito in the corridor.

  "Morning transfer." Kaito rolled shoulders, knots pulsing between shoulder blades. "Track every credit. Full confirmation before releasing family clearance."

  "Archives?"

  "Those too. He'll have copies."

  "Flagged his dummy file access last week," Mei said, tapping her personal encryption sequence into her pad. "Any copies he triggers, they corrupt in seconds. Nasty virus too. Eats through his local systems."

  They stepped into the elevator. Kaito caught his reflection fractured across mirrored panels. Old. Tired. When had that happened?

  "Noodle shop secure," Mei said, switching gears.

  "Yamazaki?"

  Her lips quirked up. "Threatening to poison us all for messing with his kitchen. Started the forty-eight-hour broth yesterday when you confirmed."

  Something squeezed in Kaito's chest. That broth was special. Reserved for family.

  "Martinez will appreciate that."

  Mei nodded, fiddling with her pad. "Got those Okinawan citrus too." Just a detail, something he'd mentioned once months back. She'd remembered.

  Kaito's office door hissed shut behind them. "Need to prep. Car in thirty."

  Mei lingered, efficiency briefly shelved as she weighed words. "About Martinez. Been looking at Smith's project data. Power requirements alone will trip Foundation alarms."

  "Not just about one man," Kaito said quietly. "About what he represents."

  His hands went to his desk drawer, the one that always stuck. Three pulls before it gave. Inside sat a simple wooden box with faded mother-of-pearl corners.

  Mei watched him open it, professional mask slipping.

  "Didn't know you kept stuff," she said simply.

  Kaito lifted out cheap plastic chopsticks, worn smooth by years. Faded dragons curled along them, marker drawings by a child's hand.

  "Martinez gave these after Osaka." He turned them over. "Told me everyone needs proper tools for their journey. I was thirteen. Half-starved. First thing that felt like mine in months."

  Mei stepped closer. "Never told me how you met him."

  "Wasn't relevant before." He pocketed the chopsticks carefully. "Maybe it is now."

  Bathroom mirror showed his reflection. Human eye exhausted, augmented one glowing blue. Crooked tie. Always crooked when shit mattered.

  Mei appeared with a garment bag. "Blue shirt." No explanation needed.

  Kaito raised an eyebrow.

  "Rerouted security teams to the eastern approach." Professional mode engaged. "If Foundation's watching Martinez, they'll expect the main entrance."

  Kaito changed, movements precise despite trembling hands.

  "Could still back out," Mei said quietly. She glanced at her pad, then switched screens; small rebellion against protocol. "Foundation security isn't exactly amateur hour."

  "And what? Watch Martinez and his granddaughter die with everyone else deemed 'resource inefficient'? Forty-three days till launch."

  Mei stepped forward, fixing his tie with familiar efficiency. "Smith's project is theoretical. You're betting everything on tech nobody's proven works."

  "Alternative evac method without Foundation approval? Worth the risk." Kaito's voice softened. "Martinez bet on me when I had nothing."

  "Risking the whole organization for him." Not accusation, just observation. Her hands worked his tie with practiced motions. "Other bosses won't get it."

  "Don't need understanding. Need them out of my way."

  "If they don't move?" Her hands dropped. "Tanaka's just the first."

  Kaito met her eyes. "Then they're obstacles. We handle obstacles."

  Mei studied him. Professional assessment warming into something more personal but equally sharp. "There's more to Martinez than you're saying."

  "Some debts can't be explained," Kaito said. "Only paid."

  She nodded. "Whatever goes down today at the shop, we're with you. Whole crew." She tucked back a loose strand of hair, small gesture betraying nervousness and determination both.

  "Even Yamazaki?"

  "Even him," she smiled. "Though he'll swear he's just loyal to his noodle recipes." She handed him his jacket, fingertips brushing his briefly before returning to her pad, already back to security arrangements.

  Door closed. Kaito touched the chopsticks in his pocket. Dragons barely visible anymore, ghosts of ink under years of handling. Still there though. Still flying.

  Just had to decide if they were flying toward something or running away.

  Harry pulled the car up to Shinjuku's neon-soaked streets. Kaito's head was pounding, that deep throb that meant he'd been working too hard. The doctors had warned him about that; the human brain could only handle so much stress before it started to rebel.

  "You should eat something," Harry said, watching him in the mirror with that steady gaze of his. Not for the first time, Kaito wondered if Diego had asked Harry to keep an eye on him. They'd served together, back before everything went sideways. "Boss? You're doing the tie thing again."

  Kaito dropped his hands. The silk tie, Diego's birthday gift three years ago, was probably crooked as hell. Let it be. Some things weren't meant to be perfect.

  Through the rain-streaked window, he could see Shinjuku's shop glowing like a paper lantern against Tokyo's electric darkness. Steam fogged the windows, but he could pick out Diego's shape easily enough, his silhouette unmistakable after all these years. Same leather coat, worn smooth at the elbows. Same military posture, even hunched over his noodles, spine straight despite the casual setting.

  "Circle the block," Kaito told Harry. His voice sounded strange in his own ears. Too tight. Too young. "Need a minute to think."

  The red lacquer box sat heavy in his lap. He'd checked its contents maybe fifty times today; Dr. Smith's gateway data, proof of Nexus betrayals, everything that could either save them or destroy what little trust remained between him and the man who'd taught him what trust meant.

  "Remember when he caught us trying to hack the school's grading system?" Harry asked suddenly, making another smooth turn through traffic. His hands were relaxed on the wheel, betraying none of the tension Kaito knew he must be feeling. "You were what, fourteen?"

  "Thirteen." Despite everything, Kaito felt his lips twitch. "He didn't even yell. Just sat us down and explained how disappointing it is when smart people take shortcuts."

  "Then made us write apology letters. In cursive." Harry's warm chuckle filled the car.

  "By hand." Kaito touched his tie again, caught himself, forced his hands back to the box. "He always did believe in doing things the right way."

  Rain painted patterns on the window. His reflection stared back, expensive suit, perfect hair, calculating eyes worth more than most people's trust. Everything screamed success. Power. The perfect crime lord's mask. Diego would hate it. Would see right through it to the scared kid still hiding underneath.

  "He's proud of you, you know," Harry said quietly as they approached Shinjuku's again. His dark eyes met Kaito's in the mirror, sincere and steady. "Even if he doesn't understand all of... this."

  "Proud?" The laugh hurt coming out. "I run a criminal empire, Harry. Everything he taught me about honor, about protecting people..."

  "We do protect people. Our way." Harry's eyes held his in the mirror. "APU won't help? APU won't listen? Fine. We step up. Keep our families safe however we can."

  Through the rain, Kaito watched Diego check his watch. Counting minutes. Probably cataloging every face that had entered or left the shop. Old habits die hard, if they die at all.

  "Ready now, boss?"

  Kaito smoothed his tie one last time, felt the familiar internal checklist of potential threats. Both learned behaviors, one from Diego's endless patience, one from surviving without it.

  "No," he admitted, reaching for the door. "But he taught me that too. Sometimes you do what needs doing, ready or not."

  The night hit him like a wall, steam and noodle broth and rain and fear. Twenty years of complications wrapped in simple smells. His feet carried him forward while his gut screamed retreat.

  Time to find out if family really meant forever, or if some betrayals cut too deep to heal.

  The noodle shop's bell chimed as Kaito pushed through the door. His eyes immediately mapped escape routes, threat vectors, defensive positions; another of Diego's lessons turned paranoid habit. Funny how the man's training stuck, even when Kaito was trying to betray everything else he'd taught him.

  Shinjuku looked up from behind the counter, a knowing smile crossing his weathered face. He'd been expecting this meeting; the old chef had seen enough late-night reunions in his shop to recognize the weight of one before it happened.

  "Kaito-san," he called, already setting aside the second bowl he'd prepared. "Martinez-san said you would be joining him."

  So Diego had anticipated him. Some things never changed, the man had always been three steps ahead, even when Kaito thought he was being unpredictable. He nodded to Shinjuku, gratitude and apprehension mingling in his chest.

  Diego didn't turn as Kaito approached, but his shoulders tightened. He could probably hear the expensive shoes on the worn floor, smell the designer cologne cutting through the steam. Everything about Kaito screamed how far he'd strayed from Diego's path.

  "Martinez-san," he managed, the formal greeting tasting like ash. Twenty years of shared meals, nightmares, and secrets, reduced to cold politeness.

  "Cut the formalities, Kaito." Diego's voice was gravel and gunsmoke, same as always. The rejection notice from the Exodus Foundation crinkled in his pocket as he shifted.

  Kaito slid onto the adjacent stool, setting the red box carefully between them. Diego's eyes caught on it immediately; he'd helped Kaito repair its broken hinge once, back when Kaito's hands were too small for proper tools.

  "Been a while since I've seen that," he said quietly. "Special occasion?"

  "You could say that." Kaito ordered sake with a gesture, buying time to steady his voice. "I hear the screening process for the exodus ships is quite... selective."

  "It's bullshit." The words carried decades of battle-earned authority. Diego lifted his bowl, drinking down some of the rich, amber broth with appreciation. "Shinjuku still makes it the traditional way. One of the few constants left in this world." He set the bowl down carefully. "I've got good people, family, who deserve a shot."

  Kaito's heart clenched at 'family.' Did Diego still count him among them? Would he, after tonight?

  "And you think I might know someone who could help?" Kaito kept his tone carefully neutral, professional. Distance was safer than the raw truth trying to claw its way up his throat.

  "You always know someone, Kaito. That's why you're still breathing after all these years." Diego slurped another mouthful of noodles, the ritual of it almost meditative. His eyes flicked up to Kaito's. "Some things are worth waiting for."

  The words hit harder than any punch. Kaito saw the moment Diego realized it too, the slight flinch, the softening around his eyes. But the damage was done. They weren't father and son tonight. Just a desperate man and the fixer he'd come to bargain with.

  The sake arrived, burning warmth down Kaito's throat. He needed it. Diego stirred his cooling noodles, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words. Twenty years ago, Diego would have already known what he was thinking. Now the distance felt wider than the space between stars.

  "You disappoint me, Martinez-san." The formal name tasted bitter. "After all we've been through, you treat me like some common street fixer?"

  Diego's chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth. Kaito watched his face in the reflective surface of the lacquer box, the new scars he didn't recognize, the deeper lines around his eyes. When had Diego gotten so old? When had Kaito stopped noticing?

  "I'm sorry, kid. This rejection's got me wound tight."

  "I am not a kid anymore." Kaito straightened his tie - Diego's gift, though he probably didn't remember. "And you taught me better than to let anger cloud judgment."

  "Hard lessons from hard times." Diego's voice softened, remembering. "Those rogue drones..."

  "I remember everything." The words came out rawer than intended. Kaito's mind flashed with memories he'd rather forget. "Father spoke of you often, before he passed. Said you showed him what true honor looked like that day."

  The neon signs buzzed overhead, painting shadows across Diego's scarred face. Kaito saw the moment his shoulders relaxed, when the soldier's tension bled into something more familiar. More human.

  "Look, Kaito." Diego's voice softened just slightly, military precision giving way to something more personal. "I need help, but I shouldn't have come at you sideways like that. You've earned more respect."

  Kaito's hands itched to open the red box, to spill its secrets across the counter between them. Instead, he raised his sake cup. "Now that sounds more like the Diego Martinez I know. Shall we discuss your problem properly?"

  Because that's what this was really about - Diego's problem, Kaito's solution, and the impossible choice between them. The weight of Dr. Smith's data pressed against his chest like a bullet waiting to fire.

  Kaito took another sip of sake, letting the warm buzz steady his nerves. "This isn't just idle chatter, Diego. What I'm about to tell you... it could change everything."

  Diego's eyes narrowed - the same look he'd given Kaito when catching him in childhood lies. But they weren't playing at truth and consequences anymore. This time, lives hung in the balance.

  Including, perhaps, whatever remained of their relationship.

  The sake cup trembled slightly in Kaito's hand as he set it down. Behind them, Shinjuku's knife rhythmically clicked against his cutting board - a steady counterpoint to Kaito's racing heart. He noticed Diego tracking his micro-expressions, reading him like he always had.

  "The ships aren't the only way off this rock, you know." The words hung in the steam between them.

  "What are you talking about?" Diego's voice carried that dangerous quiet Kaito remembered from childhood - the tone that meant he was skating on thin ice.

  Kaito scanned the shop again, confirming what he already knew. Two salary men in the corner, too drunk to listen. A college student absorbed in her phone. Shinjuku, discrete as ever. Safe enough.

  "Have you heard of Dr. Olivia Smith?" Kaito leaned closer, pitching his voice low. The name felt dangerous on his tongue, like speaking it might summon APU agents from the shadows.

  "The quantum gateway researcher?" Diego's surprise showed in the slight raising of his eyebrow. "Thought that was science fiction bullshit."

  "That's what the APU wanted everyone to think," Kaito replied. "But I've seen it work."

  Diego's eyes sharpened. "How? The Crucible project was shut down last year after her husband died."

  "I bought the facility. Gave Smith's team a new home."

  "You're telling me you own a quantum gateway?" Diego whispered incredulously.

  Kaito shook his head. "Not yet. But I own the research. And Smith's making breakthroughs."

  Diego pushed his bowl aside. "Why tell me this, kid? Really?"

  The old nickname stung less this time. Maybe because Kaito could hear the concern beneath it. He took a deep breath, tasting steam and possibilities.

  "Because the Nexus Cartel is abandoning us." His voice cracked slightly. "The Overseers, they've already bought their tickets off-world through the Foundation. They're leaving us behind, Diego. All of us."

  The truth hung between them like smoke, acrid and choking. Kaito watched understanding dawn in Diego's eyes, followed by a familiar righteous anger. Some things never changed - Diego Martinez still couldn't stand seeing the powerful prey on the weak.

  "And Smith's gateway is your alternative?" Diego asked, leaning forward. "Where does it even go?"

  "Somewhere better than Mars." Kaito let his professional mask crack, showing Diego the wonder he'd felt. "Pristine. Habitable. Worth fighting for."

  "Sounds too good to be true," Diego said, but Kaito could hear the interest beneath the skepticism.

  "That's why I need you to see it for yourself."

  Diego's hand moved toward the red box, then stopped. His eyes met Kaito's, searching. "What exactly do you want from me?"

  "Your expertise. Your leadership. Your honor," Kaito replied simply. "Smith has the science. I have the resources. But we need someone who can organize an operation like this. Someone the Nexus Cartel can't touch."

  The neon lights flickered, casting shadows across Diego's face as he considered Kaito's words. Everything hinged on this moment.

  "Show me what you've got," Diego said finally.

  Kaito placed his palm flat on the lacquer box, feeling its familiar texture beneath his fingertips. For a moment, he was thirteen again, storing childish treasures inside while Diego taught him about keeping secrets. The weight of what he now carried inside it made those memories feel like they belonged to someone else entirely.

  "Before I open this," Kaito said carefully, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "you need to understand. Once you know, there's no going back."

  "Since when did you become the cautious one?" A ghost of a smile crossed Diego's face. "I remember a kid who'd jump off buildings just to see if his calculations were right."

  "That kid grew up." Kaito met his gaze steadily. "Learned some hard lessons about consequences."

  The box clicked open under his fingers. Inside, nestled in dark silk, lay a small holographic projector and a paper dossier. Kaito activated the projector, which displayed a small shimmering portal between them.

  "Small-scale for now," he said quietly. "But it works."

  Diego studied the projection, his tactician's mind clearly racing. "These Nexus Overseers," he said, pointing at the dossier. "They're all on the exodus list?"

  "Every one of them. Swore blood oaths to protect our communities. Now they're buying their way onto ships and leaving everyone else behind."

  "Sons of bitches." Diego shook his head. "How many people know about your project?"

  "Smith's team. A handful of my people. And now you."

  "And Smith's team is loyal?"

  "To her and the gateway? Completely." Kaito's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "They've seen how quickly the APU's promises turn to dust."

  The college student's chair scraped as she stood to leave. Diego waited until she was past before asking, voice pitched below the ambient noise.

  "When can I meet this Dr. Smith?"

  Relief washed through Kaito, though he kept it from showing on his face. "Later this evening. I need to prepare a secure facility first. I'll send you the location."

  Diego nodded once, decisive. He drained his sake cup in a single motion, then finished the last of his broth. "Been coming to Shinjuku's for twenty years. Some things stay reliable." His eyes met Kaito's. "You realize what you're risking? If the Nexus Cartel finds out you're planning to abandon them..."

  "They'd kill me," Kaito finished simply. "But they're planning to abandon everyone else first. And you taught me to stand for something bigger than myself, remember?"

  Diego's weathered hand reached across the counter, hesitated, then rested briefly on Kaito's arm. The first real touch between them in years. "I remember. I just never thought it would lead here."

  "Neither did I." Kaito's voice grew quiet. "But when the ships leave and the world falls apart... we need to be ready with an alternative. Something that gives people hope."

  "Hope," Diego repeated, the word sounding strange in his mouth. He studied Kaito's face, as though looking for that thirteen-year-old boy in the features of the man before him. "You always were an idealist under all that calculation."

  "Wonder where I learned that," Kaito replied, allowing himself a small genuine smile.

  Diego's answering smile was brief but real. "Tonight, then. Just like old times."

  "No," Kaito said, closing the lacquer box with careful fingers. "Better than old times. This time we're saving more than just ourselves."

  The noodle shop's ambient noise settled around them as they finished their sake in a silence that, for the first time in years, didn't feel broken.