Meanwhile, at the airport...
The moment the plane's wheels touched the runway, I stopped thinking about America.
The flight had merely been transportation.
The investigation began the second we landed.
Passengers slowly filed out of the aircraft.
Some looked exhausted.
Others looked relieved.
None of them mattered.
As I stepped into the terminal, Kenzo stretched his arms above his head.
"Finally," he groaned. "More than fifteen hours trapped in a flying metal box."
I ignored him and continued walking.
A few seconds later, he caught up.
"Oh, come on. At least pretend you're happy to be here."
"They sent someone."
Kenzo blinked.
Then he smiled.
"Already figured that out?"
Of course they did.
The Bureau didn't trust either of us.
Frankly, I wouldn't have trusted us either.
"Who do you think it is?" Kenzo asked.
I watched a family pass by before answering.
"The assignment itself gives us the answer."
"Huh?"
"If they wanted oversight, they would send a superior officer."
I adjusted the strap of my bag.
"If they wanted authority, they would send a supervisor."
Kenzo tilted his head.
"But?"
"But both options are occupied elsewhere."
The Bureau was stretched thin.
Current operations made that obvious.
Therefore, the pool of candidates became significantly smaller.
"They selected someone unconventional."
Kenzo laughed.
"That's not much of an answer."
"It doesn't need to be."
I glanced around the terminal.
The person wasn't here.
Not yet.
Which meant they were likely arriving separately.
Interesting.
Kenzo shoved his hands into his pockets.
"I still don't understand why we're moving so early."
His tone became more serious.
"I thought we were giving Aoi Fushimiya a year."
"So did I."
"And now?"
"Aoi is not the objective."
Kenzo looked at me.
I continued walking.
"He's information."
"A person, Tetsuya."
"A source of information."
Kenzo sighed.
There wasn't much difference from my perspective.
At least not yet.
"Aoi made contact," I said. "That alone makes him useful."
"But not trustworthy."
"No."
Trust was a luxury investigators couldn't afford.
Evidence mattered.
Nothing else.
For several moments neither of us spoke.
The crowds flowed around us like a river.
Then Kenzo finally broke the silence.
"What about Ren?"
I already knew he would ask.
The Serpent of Tokyo.
The reason we had come to Japan.
The reason I had spent months reviewing reports.
The reason Kenzo had arranged certain... accommodations.
I thought about the detention center.
The isolation.
The pressure.
The growing frustration.
Every variable had been accounted for.
Almost every variable.
"You'll see."
Kenzo smirked.
"I hate when you say that."
"I know."
We exited the terminal.
The cold December air greeted us immediately.
Japan.
The next piece of the puzzle was waiting.
And unlike the others, this one already knew it was being played.
(A few hours later..)
(Natalie's Perspective)
The moment the plane touched down, I felt exhausted.
Fifteen hours of flying had a way of making time feel unreal. One moment I was in America. The next, I was staring through an airport window at the lights of Tokyo.
December 25th.
12:03 A.M.
Merry Christmas.
I stepped out of the airport terminal and immediately pulled out my phone.
The call connected after only a few rings.
"Yes?" the senior officer answered. "I assume you've arrived."
"I have," I said. "Though I'd appreciate knowing why you sent me halfway across the world to babysit grown adults."
There was a pause.
"As I've explained before, your purpose is oversight. Tetsuya and Kenzo produce results, but they also produce collateral damage. Add the CIA asset Ren—The Serpent of Tokyo—and you have what may be the most destructive investigative group imaginable."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Just tell me where I'm supposed to go."
The officer chuckled.
"Those two are far too focused on this investigation to notice we've assigned someone to monitor them."
Something about that statement bothered me.
Maybe it was confidence.
People usually sounded the most certain right before they were wrong.
"Can you at least tell me more about them?" I asked. "If I'm supposed to follow them, I need to understand how they think."
"I'm afraid that's impossible."
I stopped walking.
"What?"
"No one understands those two."
I stared at my phone.
"You work with them."
"That doesn't help."
"You're telling me you've spent years around them and still can't predict them?"
"No."
His answer came immediately.
Too immediately.
Not uncertainty.
Conviction.
"They're anomalies."
I sighed.
People always said that.
Nobody was impossible to understand.
Confusing?
Yes.
Complicated?
Definitely.
But impossible?
No.
Everyone had reasons.
Patterns.
Motivations.
You just had to find them.
"The only person who might understand them is Mr. Yamada."
I paused.
"Who's that?"
"A retired FBI officer. Sixty-six years old. He trained both Tetsuya and Kenzo at the academy."
The officer continued.
"He doesn't think the way they do, but experience compensates for that. If he wanted to, he could probably solve this entire case himself."
"Then why isn't he?"
"He prefers peace."
I almost laughed.
Nobody who willingly trained people like Tetsuya and Kenzo preferred peace.
"Where can I find him?"
A few moments later, the officer gave me an address.
The call ended.
And I headed there.
---
The penthouse was far nicer than I expected.
Private.
Quiet.
Expensive.
The kind of place someone bought after spending decades surviving things they no longer wanted to talk about.
I knocked.
Several seconds later the door opened.
An older man stood there with a cigarette between his fingers.
His eyes immediately studied me.
Not looked at.
Studied.
There was a difference.
I switched to Japanese.
"Are you Mr. Yamada?"
The old man exhaled smoke.
"And what exactly do you gain from knowing who I am?"
Not suspicious.
Defensive.
A man who'd spent decades evaluating strangers.
"I'm here on behalf of the FBI."
His expression didn't change.
After a few moments he stepped aside.
"Come in."
---
The apartment was spotless.
Too spotless.
Everything had a place.
Nothing was out of position.
The first thing I noticed wasn't the furniture.
It was the table.
Three cups of tea.
Not one.
Not two.
Three.
Someone else was here.
Actually—
Two people.
Mr. Yamada followed my gaze.
"Hm."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Tetsuya and Kenzo never mentioned there would be a fourth person."
My stomach dropped.
They were here.
For a brief moment I considered leaving.
Then Yamada spoke again.
"May I see your badge?"
I looked away.
"Technically, I'm not with the FBI."
His eyebrow rose.
"Then the CIA?"
"No."
"Then who exactly are you?"
I sighed.
"The bureau sent me to oversee them."
There was silence.
Then—
"You're the babysitter."
I hated how accurate that sounded.
---
A moment later Yamada suddenly stared at me.
Longer than before.
Recognition.
He walked toward a shelf and retrieved an old newspaper.
When he placed it in front of me, my chest tightened.
The headline was familiar.
Too familiar.
Teenage Stalker Exposed After Harassing Classmate
2023.
I looked away.
Immediately.
Instinctively.
Yamada noticed.
Of course he noticed.
"So you're that girl."
I didn't answer.
The article felt older than three years.
And somehow not old at all.
Yamada folded the paper.
"I suppose you understand how ugly the world can be."
I clenched my jaw.
"You don't know anything about what happened."
"Correct."
His voice remained calm.
"I don't."
Then he added:
"And frankly, I don't care."
The bluntness hit harder than I expected.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it was honest.
"There are larger things happening than either of us."
His eyes settled on me.
"You're nineteen."
I didn't answer.
"The bureau sent a nineteen-year-old to supervise investigators chasing what may be the largest conspiracy on the planet."
His tone wasn't angry.
Just tired.
As if he'd already seen this mistake before.
---
"My friends and I solved several cases back home."
The words sounded weaker than I intended.
"We've helped people."
Yamada snorted.
"Local cases."
I frowned.
"That still matters."
"It does."
He sat down.
"But don't confuse that with experience."
I opened my mouth.
He continued before I could respond.
"You're worried about collateral damage."
"Shouldn't I be?"
"No."
His answer was immediate.
"You're worried about the wrong thing."
The room suddenly felt quieter.
The city lights outside reflected across the windows.
Yamada stared toward them.
"I already know there's a conspiracy."
My eyes widened slightly.
"What?"
"I don't know its full shape."
"I don't know its leaders."
"I don't know its purpose."
He paused.
"But I know it's there."
For a moment his voice became distant.
Almost reflective.
"The mistake people make is believing evil can be defeated."
I remained silent.
"You can defeat individuals."
"You can destroy organizations."
"You can expose secrets."
He looked back at me.
"But ideas survive."
The words lingered in the room.
"You remove one monster."
"Another appears."
"You stop one conspiracy."
"Another forms."
"It isn't because humanity is evil."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"It's because humanity is curious."
I listened.
Despite myself.
"I don't know who started this."
"I don't know what question they asked."
"But somewhere, someone became curious."
He extinguished the cigarette.
"And the rest followed."
---
"No."
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Yamada looked at me.
I met his gaze.
"Good and evil aren't the same."
"They aren't even close."
For the first time, he smiled.
Not because he agreed.
Because he'd expected the answer.
"Maybe."
Then he leaned back.
"So why are you really here?"
I exhaled.
Finally.
The actual reason.
"I need to understand Tetsuya and Kenzo."
Yamada was quiet for several seconds.
Then he said:
"I'll leave that to your own conclusions."
Naturally.
Nothing was ever simple.
"But I'll tell you this."
His expression hardened.
"They already know someone was sent after them."
My eyes widened.
"What?"
"Don't leave evidence."
"What kind of evidence?"
"Any."
The answer came immediately.
"And don't ever underestimate Kenzo."
The way he said it made me uneasy.
Then he added:
"And when they release that thing from its cell..."
Thing.
Not person.
Thing.
"...stay away from it."
I immediately knew who he meant.
Ren.
The Serpent of Tokyo.
For some reason the way Yamada said it sent a chill down my spine.
Not fear.
Instinct.
The same feeling I got before walking into a dangerous situation.
Then Yamada stood.
"Our conversation is over."
I blinked.
"That's it?"
"You wanted information."
"I gave you information."
I couldn't even argue with that.
---
An hour later I checked into a nearby hotel.
The room was small.
Quiet.
Temporary.
I sat on the edge of the bed staring out the window.
Tokyo stretched endlessly beyond the glass.
Somewhere out there were Tetsuya.
Kenzo.
And Ren.
Three names.
Three unknowns.
I closed my eyes.
Whenever I tried to imagine how they thought, the picture refused to form.
That bothered me.
People always left traces.
Patterns.
Motives.
Fears.
Something.
Yet every description I'd heard tonight felt incomplete.
As if everyone was describing shadows rather than people.
I opened my eyes again.
Tomorrow I'd start watching them.
And somehow I had a feeling they already knew that too.