This dynamic had gone on for far too long.

  Ezra had lost count of the number of crumpled blueprints in his trash bin, each one representing another failure, another brilliant idea he had painstakingly drafted, only to realize—too te—that Haru had already built it.

  It had started as a minor annoyance. Now? Now it was soul-crushing. He had tried to fight against it, tried to outthink the kid, tried to one-up him just once, but every attempt ended the same way. Eventually, Ezra just sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples, muttering to himself.

  "Fuck it."

  White-Coat University may not have taught him much—practically nothing useful, really—but if there was one lesson he had learned there, it was this:

  Sometimes, it’s just better to go along with the flow rather than fight it.

  With a deep, defeated sigh, Ezra did something he had never done before. He turned to Haru—the child prodigy, the pint-sized overachiever, the one person in this b who actually knew what he was doing—and asked: "Alright, genius. What do you think we should invent?"

  Haru’s face lit up instantly. "Oh!" He spun around in his chair, kicking his feet excitedly. "We should make toys!"

  Ezra blinked. "Toys?"

  "Yeah! It’s gonna be awfully boring working in a b all day. We should make something fun!"

  Ezra opened his mouth to protest, but then—against all odds—an actual idea sparked in his brain. He thought back to his old construction job, to the silly pranks that the blue-colr workers used to py. A game they had pyed on-site.

  A prank that had scared the absolute shit out of new hires. Slowly, a grin crept onto Ezra’s face. "You know what?" he said. "I think I have just the thing."

  Ezra grabbed a bnk sheet of blueprint paper, grabbed a pen, and started sketching.

  "The idea is simple," he expined. "You sit on a pressure pad, like a seat cushion. It starts a countdown. And at random, when the timer hits zero—" He tapped the paper. "Gravity fluctuates so violently that you jitter like you’re sitting on a jackhammer."

  Haru’s eyes went wide with excitement. "That sounds AMAZING!" He was already grabbing tools, already pulling up holo-blueprints, already completely invested.

  "It was a stupid prank at my old job," Ezra admitted. "New guys would sit down for lunch, and suddenly their bones turned to jelly. It scared the hell out of ‘em every time."

  Haru was giggling uncontrolbly, already tweaking Ezra’s original design with his own ideas. "What if—what if instead of just one pad," Haru suggested, "we had a game mode where it’s multipyer? Like, st person sitting wins?"

  Ezra grinned. "Kid, that’s the best idea you’ve had all day." For the first time since meeting Haru, Ezra actually enjoyed working with him. The kid was smart, sure. Too smart. But when he wasn’t one-upping Ezra at every turn, he was actually fun to work with. They bounced ideas off each other, tested mechanics, and got dangerously close to accidentally unching a wrench across the b when one of the early prototypes misfired.

  It was going well—Until Haru started talking.

  Too much.

  "So, Ezra," Haru said casually, adjusting some of the gravity modutor settings, "what was White-Coat University like for you?"

  Ezra kept screwing in a support bracket, barely paying attention. "You know. A nightmare. A fever dream. Take your pick."

  Haru nodded, completely unbothered by the description. "Did you have a wife while you were there?"

  Ezra froze mid-turn. "What?"

  "A wife," Haru repeated, still innocent, still carefree, still completely unaware that Ezra was now resisting the urge to bonk him on the head with a wrench. "You know. Married. Tied down. Chained to the illusion of love."

  Ezra stared at him. "Haru, you’re eleven. Why the hell do you talk like a divorced man?"

  Haru shrugged. "I read a lot of philosophy."

  Ezra let out a slow breath, counting to ten. "Yes," he finally answered. "I have a wife."

  Haru perked up. "Oh! Do you love her?"

  Ezra dropped his wrench. "What kind of question is that??"

  Haru giggled, as if Ezra’s suffering was entertainment. "Does she love you back?"

  Ezra shot him a look. "No, Haru. She despises me. She married me purely for tax benefits."

  Haru gasped. "Really??"

  Ezra rolled his eyes, picking up his wrench. "No, you little gremlin. Of course she loves me."

  Haru pouted. "You don’t have to be so dramatic about it."

  Ezra turned back to work, trying to focus. Silence. For two whole minutes.

  Then—"Ezra, do you know about graviton matrix hyperloops?"

  Ezra paused. Looked up. Deadpanned. "Haru."

  "Yeah?"

  "I can work. And I can think. But I can’t do both at the same time."

  Haru tilted his head, blinking. Ezra exhaled. "Can you, for like, five whole minutes, let me just build this thing without asking random-ass questions?"

  Haru thought about it. Then smirked. "Five whole minutes?"

  "Yes."

  "No questions?"

  "None."

  Haru held up his wristband, pressed a button— And set a five-minute countdown timer. Ezra watched in disbelief as the countdown started ticking. Haru sat there, completely quiet, eyes wide, just watching him. Like a little gremlin waiting to explode. Ezra groaned.

  This was going to be a nightmare.

  Ezra was faced with a challenge far greater than anything White-Coat University had ever thrown at him.

  It wasn’t complex graviton calcutions.It wasn’t rewriting the very ws of physics.It wasn’t even surviving the sheer lunacy of academia.

  No. It was the ticking time bomb of a child sitting silently in his b, waiting for the moment he could speak again. Ezra worked furiously, trying to focus, trying to ignore the creeping dread that Haru would explode with questions the moment the timer hit zero.

  But everything was going wrong. A part wouldn’t fit properly, and when he tried to improvise, something else jammed up. The countdown kept ticking down. Five minutes had never felt so short. His frustration mounted, his teeth clenched, and he tried to remind himself—this was a child, he had to watch his temper, he had to watch his nguage—

  And then—Tick. Zero. Silence.

  Haru remained quiet. Ezra let out a small breath of relief. Maybe, just maybe, the kid—

  "Hey Ezra, do you think—"

  SNAP. A spring ricocheted off the casing and snapped him directly in the face. Ezra yelped, recoiling, gripping his cheek as the pain set in. Haru gasped. "Oh shoot, are you okay?"

  Ezra’s patience shattered into a million pieces. His free hand grabbed a screwdriver, and in one swift motion, he chucked it at the wall with enough force to shake the shelving units.

  "SON OF A MUDSUCKING, CATTLE-KICKING, WIRE-SNARLING, BANANA-FUMBLING, GOAT-KISSING PIECE OF—!"

  He stopped mid-rant, his breathing heavy, the tool still vibrating in the drywall. Haru was giggling uncontrolbly. Behind him, Mr. Key stood with an amused expression, arms crossed, watching the entire scene unfold. Mr. Key cleared his throat. "Language, young man."

  Ezra just stood there, his head hanging in sheer, unfiltered defeat.

  Ezra stepped away, rubbing his temples, muttering various threats to the universe under his breath as Haru—completely unbothered—cheerfully picked up where Ezra left off, making small adjustments to the toy.

  Mr. Key handed Ezra something small—a nyard. It held his White Card, now housed in a sleek, reinforced casing, like something issued to high-clearance personnel. Haru got one too, slipping it over his head, grinning.

  "You’re going to need these," Mr. Key expined.

  Ezra frowned, gncing up. "For what?"

  Mr. Key’s gaze was unreadable. "For your duty."

  Ezra’s gut twisted. "What duty?"

  Mr. Key let out a slow breath. "Key and Kim family members have a responsibility, Ezra. Once a year, we venture into the core of Mt. Fuji to ensure the ‘reactor’ is functioning properly." Ezra’s heart sank.

  A tour.

  Of the reactor.

  With the Silent Legion.

  He was going to die down there, wasn’t he? Ezra’s throat went dry, but before he could process his impending doom, an unholy BZZZZZZZZZT filled the air.

  He turned. And there was Haru. Bouncing uncontrolbly on the jackhammer seat, ughing hysterically as the gravity engine vibrated him like a human maraca. Mr. Key chuckled, watching with mild amusement.

  Haru wobbled off the device, grinning ear to ear. "That was AWESOME!"

  Ezra blinked. Then exhaled slowly. "It was your idea," Haru said, still shaking slightly.

  Mr. Key raised an eyebrow. "Your idea, Ezra?"

  Ezra hesitated. "I mean—kinda?"

  Mr. Key smirked. "Impressive. You and Haru are getting along quite well."

  Ezra paled. Dear God, no.

  Don’t encourage him.

  Ezra had always imagined Japan as a pce of history, culture, and cutting-edge technology. He had seen so little of it since arriving, too busy immersing himself in his new reality at Key Industries.

  So today, he had taken the day off—no b, no Haru, no Mr. Key, no staring at horrific existential documents about graviton radiation and hidden history. Just him and the city, wandering the streets, soaking in the everyday normalcy.

  For a moment, it worked. Then, in the distance, Mt. Fuji loomed on the horizon. Ezra stopped. His breath fogged slightly in the cool air as he stared at it. The core was down there. The Silent Legion. The so-called "reactor."

  It felt like looking at an execution ptform. Was he really cut out for this kind of work? Then, a flicker of color caught his eye. A massive screen in the city square. An advertisement was pying, the speakers buzzing with upbeat Japanese narration.

  Ezra gnced at it—And immediately froze.

  It was a commercial for GraviJack, the very game he and Haru had cooked up in the b just a few months ago.

  Apparently, Haru had gone the extra mile and actually made it multipyer. On the screen, kids were ughing, bouncing, competing to be the st one sitting, the gravity pads buzzing under them as they dodged, fidgeted, and struggled to hold their positions.

  Ezra felt a smile creep onto his face despite himself. He had been so skeptical about this project at first, dismissing it as just some dumb idea to entertain Haru.

  But now? Now, watching kids pying something he helped create, it… felt different. Then he thought about Adam.

  He thought about his son, pying with a toy his dad made, ughing, smiling, enjoying something born from Ezra’s own hands. For the first time in a long time, Ezra felt something warm bloom in his chest.

  Maybe, just maybe—He was doing something worthwhile after all.

  Then, the commercial took a turn for the worse. The hype-building segment began. Bold Japanese text fshed across the screen, introducing the great minds behind the invention. First, they showed Haru—the brilliant, charming young genius, the boy wonder of Key Industries, smiling, waving at the camera like a goddamn superstar.

  Ezra sighed. Of course. But then—The screen changed again.

  His stomach dropped. There he was. Ezra Key. The foreign mastermind. And then—Oh god no.

  They showed the b footage.

  The very same footage of the day he lost his patience with Haru, the moment a spring snapped into his face, the exact second he unched a screwdriver at the wall and screamed absolute nonsense at the top of his lungs.

  The crowd in the square burst into ughter. Giggles. Chuckles. A few outright roars of amusement. Ezra’s soul left his body.

  At first, he thought he was safe. Just one foreign guy watching an ad, nothing to see here.

  Then—Someone in the crowd recognized him. A girl pointed, whispering excitedly to her friend. Heads turned. Murmurs spread. Ezra felt his stomach sink as more and more people looked his way, their eyes widening in realization.

  Then someone shouted—"It’s him! The White-Coat foreigner!"

  Ezra had exactly two seconds to react. And then—The crowd descended.

  Cameras were out. People were ughing, asking for selfies, speaking in rapid Japanese he could barely keep up with. Ezra could only facepalm internally.

  Oh god. Oh no.

  His dignity was dying in real-time.