The door to Nia's office slid open with a silent hiss, and Hector stepped into the cool, sterile room, without a single picture in view. Across the room, Nia sat behind her desk, her sharp gaze fixed on a holo-screen that floated above the surface.

"Close the door, Hector," she commanded without looking up. He complied, and the soft click of the door seemed to seal him as he awaited the final details of his undercover mission.

"Take a seat," she said as she finally looked up at him, she motioned toward a cheap fabric chair in the corner. Her expression was unreadable, but Hector quickly grabbed the chair and dragged it over to the desk before sitting on its uneven surface.

"Here's where we stand," Nia began, her fingers dancing across the holo-screen, pulling up files and images that hovered in the air between them. "For weeks we've been surveying the school. We know their routines, their security... and now it's time for you to go in."

Hector nodded, his mind going over the plan to infiltrate the school. "Understood. So far there have been no other incidents involving Hiro since the greenhouse,"

"Correct. Adaptability will be your greatest asset on this mission," Nia replied crisply. "Your priority is to get close to Hiro, but don't force it. Even if you keep your distance, hopefully, you gather intel on who he is associated with and we can start making our list from there. Just a reminder, do not get too attached to Hiro."

"I understand," Hector nodded. "Alright, so when am I actually going to start on campus? I have studied my cover thoroughly. I am ready to be Henry Gorth."

"Don't worry about that, we are just putting the final details of your transfer together." Nia gestured, and the room shifted around them, walls dissolving into a panoramic view of a futuristic viewing room. Nia's desk sunk into the floor as she stood up, and strode up next to Hector. A new file shimmered into existence, casting a faint blue light over Henry's face.

"You're 18 so none of your classes are with Hiro, however, we have been able to create a schedule where your free time will align," Nia announced, flipping the file towards him.

Hector leaned forward, reading through the classes. He knew his part: The son of a governor - wealthy, influential, and conveniently out of the public eye for an extended period.

"There are AA meetings on here," Hector raised an eyebrow, scanning the schedule.

"We needed a story for why a governor would hide the existence of their own child," Nia explained. "A problem with alcohol and multiple stints in rehab seemed to make sense. The reality is the governor really does have a son he is checking into rehab, but now it will be like he has just been sent off to boarding school."

"So I am stuck with these meetings, great," Hector relented. He memorized the intricacies of Henry's supposed life, a world apart from his own.

"You start Monday," Nia informed him as if it were common knowledge.

"Monday," Henry said confidently, though his smile wavered. "This mission could lead the UN right to the source of these Machs and end the programs."

"Don't focus too much on that part of it," Nia said, catching the uncertain look in Hector's eyes. "Whatever comes of this, what is important here is we will have eyes on a final key player in this game."

"Understood," Hector replied, tucking away his concerns. "Henry" was ready for his debut.

---

Hiro trudged across the academy's sprawling grounds, but his mind was anywhere but in school. Since the greenhouse battle, Kazuki had pretty much done everything in his power to avoid him, with each chance encounter leading Kazuki to race away from him as fast as he could, leaving Hiro feeling like someone people should be scared of.

Lost in his thoughts Hiro almost didn't see the old maple tree—its branches reaching skyward like ancient arms beckoning him. He sank onto the bench beneath it and unfolded the wax paper cradling Yutaka's tempura. At least here he didn't have to worry about seeing the look of terror that spread across Kazuki's face every time they made eye contact.

"Hey, Hiro!" The familiar voice called out to him, and he didn't need to look up to know Ai was making her way toward him, she had stuck by him even after the battle. In fact, she wanted to know the whole story about how Hiro got involved with Machs. Something he didn't want to tell for her own safety.

"Hi, Ai," Hiro mumbled, not lifting his gaze from his meal, hoping his tone conveyed his desire to be left alone.

Undeterred, Ai joined him on the bench, her presence a surge in unwanted questions was heading his way. "I've been thinking about the greenhouse incident," she began, and Hiro was already anticipating the question that was about to follow. "You and Nori seemed... I don't know, connected?"

Hiro sighed, setting aside a piece of battered shrimp. "Nori is complicated. He was the first Mach I fought against, I don't know why he decided to save me." Hiro hoped this half-truth would be a satisfying answer for her.

"But isn't he part of the Japanese government?" she prodded, leaning in closer. "Were you a part of the Japanese government too? did you defect from them and that is why they are after you?"

"No." Hiro met her gaze, he could tell his tone hurt her. "You can't just talk about these things out in the open like this. It's not safe."

Ai bit her lip, nodding with tears in her eyes. "I just want to understand what you are going through Hiro. I didn't mean to put you at risk,"

"Ai, now is not the time for all of this," Hiro insisted, locking eyes with her in a silent plea for her to understand.

"OK, I won't ask any more questions until you are ready," she whispered back, giving him a small nod.

"Good," Hiro said, picking up another piece of tempura and offering it to her as a peace offering. "Now, let's enjoy this lunch without any more questions, okay?"

"Okay," Ai agreed, taking the offered food with a quivering smile, her mind clearly whirling with unspoken questions. But for now, they sat side by side under the red leaves of the maple tree, sharing a meal as a black SUV pulled up to the school gates.

The purr of the engine disrupted the quiet courtyard as the vehicle glided past the gates, turning heads and drawing whispers from the students lounging on the grass. Hector stepped out before the car touched down, his gaze sweeping across the academy's sprawling grounds as he took his new surroundings. Tess, donning the poised elegance befitting a governor's wife, descended beside him, her heels clicking authoritatively against the cobblestone path.

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"Remember, Hector, you're Henry now—and this," she gestured expansively at the grand architecture before them, "is all part of the job."

Hector nodded, tugging at the collar of his blazer—a costume that felt both empowering and restrictive. "I get it; I'm eighteen not an idiot. I'm here to work."

"Good." Tess's voice softened but retained an edge. "Looks like you've got the typical teenage attitude down. Just remember who you are talking to."

"I know and I know I can do this. I have the direct line all set up" he said, as he watched his student guide emerge from the building. Something about the arrangement tickled the back of his mind, a worry he just couldn't shake.

They were led to the principal's office where the head of the academy awaited, her smile broadening at their approach. "We are absolutely thrilled to welcome the son of Governor Gorth. Your presence here is... an honour."

"Thank you," Tess replied smoothly, her arm linked through Hector's. "My husband is just as excited about having our little boy on in such a well-regarded institution. Needless to say, if all goes well we would be happy to some donations."

"Indeed," the principal agreed, eyes gleaming with unspoken possibilities. She then turned her attention to Hector—Henry—and her smile faltered ever so slightly. "But, Mr. Gorth, your course selections are... unconventional for your academic standing. Perhaps we can rework your schedule"

"I don't think so, I know what I want," Hector countered, injecting Henry's assuredness into his tone.

"Very well," the principal conceded, though her skeptical gaze lingered on him as she handed over his schedule. "Welcome to the academy."

"Thank you," Hector said, feeling the weight of her gaze on him. As he left the confines of the office, stepping back into the sunlight, he took a deep breath. This was it and there was no turning back now.

---

The holographic screen flickered with Yutaka's concerned face as Hiro slouched on his bed, legs crossed and head propped up by one hand. The dorm room was full of small plush toys Ai had given every time she came to check in on him.

"Naomi's actions at the greenhouse," Yutaka began, adjusting his glasses with a pensive frown, "they don't add up. There is no way either government would have wanted to keep you alive, you simply know too much."

Hiro sighed, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off his jeans. "I think... she wanted something from me, it kind of felt like she had her own plan," he offered, thinking back to how adamantly she wanted him alive to talk to.

"If that's true then she is willing to break rules to get what she wants," Yutaka pondered a loud, his eyes glossing over in thought. "The real question here is what did she want from you, what was so important that she would try to keep you alive and on her side."

"Maybe she is like Osamu," Hiro questioned, after all, Osamu had betrayed his own government three times now. "He seems to think there is more to Mach tech. He even killed Hisoka over it."

"Osamu is an odd one," Yutaka said with a puzzled look. "From what I can gather he is now a very wanted man. Chatter suggests the Canadians want him, and are claiming he was responsible for the Machs being at their Embassy, we'll see how that one plays out."

"Do they know where he is? He said he was going to disappear," Hiro confessed, wondering if he ever got the chance. "If we could find him again, maybe he could tell us more. Explain why exactly he thinks the Machs are changing."

"I don't think looking for him is a good idea. Remember, Osamu has a history of unpredictability," Yutaka reminded him gently. "He's kidnapped you before, and he didn't lift a finger to help in the battle with Daiki."

"But if he knows something we don't, shouldn't we figure it out?" Hiro's eyes narrowed, trying to argue his point the best that he could.

"If something was up with the Machs, I would have noticed it by now," Yutaka replied sharply. "It certainly isn't worth risking your life to chase down a man who believes in some conspiracy theory. We have to play smart, Hiro."

"He just seemed so certain, you should have heard him out there," Hiro muttered, feeling the pull of Osamu's words.

"Just because he was certain about it, doesn't make it true," Yutaka said with finality, "Many people live in their own realities." seeing the look of concern still on Hiro's face, he added, "I promise I'll look onto it, Hiro. Try to get some sleep." Yutaka's image faded back into the screen, leaving Hiro alone with his thoughts and the dim glow of the moonlight seeping through the window.

---

Panting heavily, Takeshi darted down the crowded streets of Osaka, looking over. He could hear the racing footsteps of the older boys echoing off the concrete walls, their voices rising over the sounds of the crowds as told each other which way he went.

"He went down that alley, don't let that little punk get away!" one of them shouted, pointing at Takeshi's escape route with confidence.

Desperation kept Takeshi moving forward, but fate was not on his side today. He skidded around a corner, only to come face to face with a grimy brick wall—a dead end. His breath caught in his throat, a silent curse upon his lips as he turned, confronting the inevitable. The pack of boys closed in, their smiles sharp and predatory.

"Look at the little rat, trapped at last," mocked the ringleader, a lanky teen with a sneer permanently etched onto his face.

"Please," Takeshi's voice was barely audible, his gaze darting around, seeking an escape that didn't exist.

"Aw, he's begging now," another chimed in, kicking a stone towards Takeshi. "You think you can steal from us and get away with it; you're dead."

With no other choice, Takeshi clenched his hands into tight fists. With an almost primal scream, he lunged at the oldest, tallest one, his fists making contact with his lower jaw. But his bravery was short-lived.

"Get off me, you filthy insect!" the teen snarled, as his cronies swiftly intervened. They yanked Takeshi away, pinning him down, ensuring Takeshi couldn't escape what was coming for him.

"You call that a punch," the leader spat, his foot driving into Takeshi's side. Takeshi heaved on impact. "You're pathetic, you don't even deserve to be alive."

With that the teens unleashed on Takeshi, each taking a turn to beat him, until they grew bored of it, leaving him curled in a ball in the alleyway. Tears of frustration brimmed in Takeshi's eyes—not for the pain, but for the feeling of helplessness he had.

"I'll get stronger," he whispered to no one in particular, as he rolled over onto his back.

Gritting his teeth, Takeshi summoned all of his willpower, forcing himself to stand. He didn't have a home to return to; not since his abusive stepfather forced him out. Staggering out onto the street, he hugged the side of the building for support. He didn't know where exactly he was going but he did know he had to keep moving.

Making it to a park, Takeshi’s ears perked up at the sound of a persistent ring, a long abandoned call booth glowed in the distance. He inched closer to the blue box, the unknown number swirling around the screen at the top. Takeshi took a step back remembering these old booths were only able to call out. What was happening now shouldn't be possible, Takeshi pressed his bruised frame against the glass door and reached for the dangling receiver.

"Hello?" He asked cautiously.

"Takeshi Sato," came the reply, the man's voice on the other end scared him a little.

"Who... how do you know my name?" Takeshi's grip tightened on the phone.

"Let's just say I've been keeping an eye on you," the voice said warmly. "I'm Masato."

"I don't know anyone named that," Takeshi scanned the empty park as if the mysterious caller was hidden outside the booth.

"You don't know me. But I certainly know you, Takeshi. There's potential in you—a desire to be more than what you are now," Masato's tone was smooth, almost soothing.

"Anf you can do that? What exactly do you want from me?" Skepticism edged Takeshi's words, he had heard this pitch many times before.

"I just want to offer the opportunity to change your current circumstances. Give you the ability to not only fight back but to win, every single time" Masato explained, his usual charisma leaking through the phone.

"I'm listening" Takeshi was now glued to the phone.

"I'm the of a small collective. Our goal is very simple, we want people to not only notice us but to take us seriously. Each one of us has been cast out by society, Takeshi. This country has turned its back on us and we need to show them we won't go quietly."

"But why me? What can I do?" Takeshi asked, he felt limited by who he was.

"You can train with us. You can show them how strong you've become, and teach others. You can change everything," It was like Masato could read the young boy's mind.

"Where are you?" Takeshi asked, ready to start this transformation he was promised.

"Unfortunately, I can't meet you in person," Masato replied, sounding slightly annoyed by this fact. "But if you just stay where you are, an associate of mine will come get you."

"How do I know this isn't some kind of trap?" Takeshi suddenly felt like he may have walked into a trap. "You expect me to just go with your associate."

"She will just give you the full picture. If you're not interested, feel free to walk away after." Masato explained with indifference.

"Okay," Takeshi said, the receiver cold against his warming cheek. As he hung up, he settled back against the chill of the booth, he needed to hear more about this plan.