In a different part of the complex, where the walls were older and the wards stronger, three senior officers of the Crimson Hand gathered with Morikawa. The room was circular, like most of their important spaces, but smaller and more austere. Only a simple table occupied the center, on which a holographic display showed Takeshi's complete profile.

"The Kurogane heir's timing is suspicious," Commander Izumi stated, her cybernetic eye whirring as it processed data. "Three months after the incident with his family's attempted acquisition of the Eastern Ward's barrier network."

"An incident they still claim was a 'misunderstanding,'" Captain Chen added dryly. His scarred hands traced patterns in the air, pulling up more data streams. "Just like the 'misunderstanding' with the artifact vault last year."

Politics, Umbrel whispered to Takeshi, who stood waiting outside the chamber but could hear everything through a carefully placed listening charm. Always comes back to politics.

"The boy's different from his siblings," Morikawa's flame-eyes danced thoughtfully. "More... precise in his ambitions."

The third officer, Lieutenant Adeniran, had been quiet until now. "That's what worries me. The other Kurogane heirs are predictable in their power grabs. This one..." she gestured at the display showing Takeshi's school transfer records. "He's positioning pieces we can't see yet."

"And now he brings us a Forger with raw talent," Izumi's cybernetic eye focused on Hiroki's data. "Just when the Shizuma clan is looking to expand their influence. Convenient."

"Along with a Joy Wraith wielder," Chen pointed out. "Those are rare enough to change political landscapes."

"The question," Adeniran leaned forward, "is whether he's running from his family's influence or extending it. The Kurogane have tried to plant agents before."

Outside the chamber, Takeshi's lips curved slightly. They weren't wrong to be suspicious. They just weren't suspicious enough.

"Perhaps," Morikawa's voice carried that hint of amusement it often did when he saw more than he revealed, "we're asking the wrong question. The boy's ambitions matter less than what's coming. The barriers are thinning. We all feel it."

The officers fell silent. The holographic display shifted to show energy readings from across the city - subtle distortions, growing instabilities.

"So we what?" Izumi asked finally. "Use him before he uses us?"

"We watch," Morikawa said simply. "We wait. And we remember that sometimes the most dangerous moves in a game are the ones that serve multiple masters."

They think they're so clever, Umbrel mused in Takeshi's mind. But they haven't even noticed the real game yet, have they?

"Enter, young Kurogane," Morikawa called out, not bothering to raise his voice. "Since you're already listening."

Caught, Umbrel chuckled darkly. Or perhaps invited?

Takeshi entered the chamber with perfect poise, his expression a careful mix of respect and confidence. The circular room felt different from inside - the air dense with accumulated power from countless secret meetings.

"Interesting choice of eavesdropping charm," Lieutenant Adeniran noted. "Homemade and natively based, some Yoruba charm implements, but modified. Not standard Kurogane technique."

"My family," Takeshi smiled diplomatically, "encourages diverse education."

"Among other things," Commander Izumi's cybernetic eye whirred as it scanned him. "Like attempting to infiltrate rival organizations."

"Infiltrate is such an ugly word," Takeshi maintained his pleasant expression. "I prefer 'seeking mutual benefit.'"

"Like the 'mutual benefit' your sister sought in the Eastern Ward incident?" Captain Chen's scarred hands stilled. "Or the one your brother proposed before the artifact vault was compromised?"

They're probing for reaction, Umbrel advised. Stay cold.

"My siblings," Takeshi's voice carried just the right note of weariness, "often lack... subtlety in their approaches. The Kurogane name opens doors, yes, but some of us prefer to knock first."

"And what door are you knocking on now?" Adeniran leaned forward. "A powerful young Forger, a rare Joy Wraith wielder... that's quite a gift to present. One might wonder what you expect in return."

Takeshi met her gaze steadily. "Protection."

"From?"

"You know my family, Lieutenant. You know how they operate." He let a calculated amount of tension show. "I found promising talents. Brought them somewhere they could be properly trained. Is it so hard to believe I might want allies who don't share my last name?"

Nice touch, Umbrel approved. Let them think they see through you.

Commander Izumi's cybernetic eye focused with an audible click. "And your father's sudden interest in your movements? The calls from your siblings?"

"The Kurogane house is always watching its own," Takeshi spread his hands. "Especially those who might be... straying from approved paths."

Morikawa, who had been silent until now, laughed softly. "You play this game well, young heir. But remember - those who try to serve too many masters often end up serving none."

"With respect, Sage," Takeshi bowed slightly, "sometimes the best service is to one's own survival."

The officers exchanged glances. Even through their suspicion, Takeshi could see them considering the advantages - a Kurogane heir potentially breaking ranks, bringing talented recruits, offering inside information...

They'll accept the risk, Umbrel predicted. While thinking they're using us.

"Very well," Morikawa's flame-eyes danced. "You may continue your... training observation. But know that you're being watched. Closely."

"I would expect nothing less," Takeshi bowed again, deeper this time. "After all, trust must be earned."

And lies must be maintained, Umbrel added as they left the chamber. The question is - how many layers of deception can you juggle before one slips?

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Takeshi's smile didn't waver. That, after all, was what made the game interesting.

Hiroki stretched his arms overhead, feeling the constant heat under his skin shift with his muscles. To anyone watching, he probably looked like he was simply warming up, lost in his own world. As usual.

You're thinking too hard again, Arkan noted. I can practically hear the gears grinding.

But Hiroki's attention kept drifting to Takeshi, watching him navigate the social currents with practiced ease. In Abeni's carefully constructed narrative, Takeshi was their antagonist - the manipulative noble using them for his own ends. It should have been perfect, really. Hiroki had enough experience being used to make it believable.

And yet...

Be careful with that one, Arkan warned, catching the direction of his thoughts. Users always know exactly how to make you feel seen. Trust me, I'd know.

Takeshi's eyes met his suddenly across the training field, as if he'd sensed Hiroki's scrutiny. That perfect, practiced smile appeared for just a moment before he turned back to his conversation with Kaori and Dayo.

Everything about him was manufactured, Hiroki knew that. The way he moved, spoke, even the calculated way he'd approached Hiroki about his powers. It was all part of some greater scheme. All fake.

But then why...

Hiroki watched as Takeshi stood among the others, playing his role flawlessly. To anyone else, he probably looked completely at ease. But there was something in his stance, something in the careful way he maintained exactly the right amount of space between himself and others. A kind of isolation that felt...familiar.

Oh great, Arkan groaned. You're doing that thing where you see yourself in broken things again.

"He's not broken," Hiroki muttered, continuing his stretches. "He's just..."

Alone. Completely alone, even in the middle of a crowd. Hiroki recognized it because he'd spent years perfecting that same kind of solitude. The difference was, Takeshi had turned his into an art form, a weapon, while Hiroki had just... disappeared.

Don't tell me you're actually starting to trust him, Arkan's voice carried genuine concern.

"No," Hiroki watched Takeshi laugh at something Jun said - the sound perfect, practiced, empty. "But maybe I understand him. A little."

Understanding someone doesn't make them less dangerous, Arkan pointed out. Sometimes it makes them more so.

Hiroki knew that. He did. But something about seeing that carefully hidden loneliness, that profound isolation wrapped in perfect social grace... it stirred something uncomfortable in his chest. A recognition he hadn't asked for.

"I know what he's doing," Hiroki said quietly, more to himself than Arkan. "I just don't think he's the only one doing it."

"You seem comfortable by yourself," a quiet voice said, making Hiroki nearly jump. Folami stood there, their silver rings catching the light, presence somehow both intimidating and gentle.

"I, uh..." Hiroki's brain short-circuited. Was that a compliment? A criticism? What was the right response to-

Breathe, kid, Arkan chimed in. Before you set your shoes on fire.

"What do you usually do?" Folami asked. "Outside of..." they gestured at the training field.

"Oh, I..." Hiroki felt his palms heat up. What did normal people say in conversations? "I... sometimes I... there's..."

Amazing, Arkan commented. A true master of dialogue.

"Sorry," Hiroki muttered, both to Folami and his Wraith. "I'm not great at... talking."

"That's okay," Folami said, their voice free of judgment. "Take your time."

Which somehow made it both better and worse. Hiroki scrambled for something, anything that wouldn't make him sound completely pathetic.

"I work!" he blurted out, too loud. Several nearby trainees glanced over. Lower, he added, "At a restaurant. Yumi's Ramen. Actually got employee of the month. Twice."

The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to disappear. Employee of the month? Really? That was his big achievement?

Could've been worse, Arkan offered. Could've mentioned your extensive collection of convenience store loyalty cards.

But Folami just nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds like a nice place."

"What?" Hiroki blinked, certain he'd misheard.

"The restaurant," they explained. "You seemed more certain when you talked about it. More comfortable. Out of everything you could have talked about, you mentioned your work"

Hiroki stared. Most people would have already made an excuse to leave by now, tired of his awkward attempts at conversation. But Folami was still there, actually listening.

"It's..." he started, stopped, tried again. "Yeah. It's... nice. I mean, most people just want their food, but sometimes..." he managed a small smile, thinking of the old lady who always asked about his day, the businessman who remembered his name. "Sometimes I can make people smile. Just by being good at my job."

"Is that so…you must be really good at your good at yout job then, You a cook or a server?” Folami asked,

Hiroki, still surprised that they were still talking to him, responded, “Yeah I’m good, I serve, If i cooked something, the whole place might burn”. That earned a small laugh from Folami.

“Then I'll have to visit," Folami said, their own smile small but genuine. "See this award-winning service myself."

"I'd..." Hiroki straightened slightly, feeling something warm that had nothing to do with his power. "I'd be honored if you came by."

Look at that, Arkan sounded almost proud. You managed a whole conversation without spontaneously combusting. Progress!

The rings in Folami's locs clinked softly as they nodded. "I look forward to it."

For once, the silence that followed didn't feel awkward. It just felt... real.

"Sorry to interrupt," Abeni's voice cut in smoothly, "but Hiroki, we need to discuss that History assignment. Since we're technically skipping class and all."

Always the perfect excuse, her Wraith noted approvingly.

Folami nodded understanding, their rings clinking as they stepped back. "Of course. See you around, Hiroki."

Once they were far enough away, near the edge of the training field, Abeni's carefully pleasant expression dropped.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"I was just-"

"These people aren't your friends, Hiroki. They're not some after-school club you can just join. They're sharks."

Says the girl who used to feed him to different sharks, Arkan muttered, but only to Hiroki.

"I know that," Hiroki said, but his voice came out smaller than intended. "I was being careful."

"Really? Because it looked like you were getting pretty comfortable with someone we know nothing about." Abeni ran a hand through her hair, messing up its perfect styling. "We don't know their angles yet, their connections, their-"

"They seemed nice," Hiroki interrupted, then immediately felt stupid for saying it.

Abeni's expression softened for a fraction of a second before hardening again. "That's exactly what makes them dangerous. Look, just... stick to the plan, okay? Keep your distance until we know what we're dealing with."

"Right," Hiroki nodded, trying to ignore the familiar sinking feeling in his chest. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."

Kid... Arkan's voice was unusually gentle.

"Don't apologize," Abeni said, already reconstructing her social mask. "Just be careful. We can't trust anyone here."

As she walked away, rejoining the main group with perfect poise, Hiroki stood alone again. He thought about Folami's genuine interest, the way they actually listened to his stumbling words about his job. It had felt... real.

But then, he'd thought things were real before. Back when he and Abeni...

For what it's worth, Arkan said quietly, they did seem different from the others.

"Doesn't matter," Hiroki muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Abeni's right. Can't trust anyone here."

The words tasted bitter, but familiar. Like going back to an empty apartment, like eating lunch alone, like all the other things he'd gotten used to.

Her Wraith is saying something to her, Arkan noted suddenly. Something that's making her look... guilty.

"Doesn't matter," Hiroki repeated, turning away. He had practice at this part, after all. The part where potential friendships died before they could begin.