“Seven. During the day you will get to see two of them across the channel.” He pointed to the West.
I looked but of course all I caught was darkness.
“Reo and Hiro didn’t even know about these islands until three years ago.”
“What did they say when you told them?”
“They were shocked that I could keep a secret for so long.”
We continued walking. The marble path widened the farther we went, flanked by perfectly spaced lanterns glowing amber against the darkness.
The island was alive with movement.
As we crested a rise, I saw them.
More villas.
Tons of them.
Tucked into the landscape.
Some were modern glass-and-wood constructions. Others looked like old ryokan inns, complete with paper windows and cedar beam roofs. The further back we went, the more the jungle cleared—revealing rows and rows of them, each tucked behind its own flowering wall or bamboo screen.
People were arriving too.
I saw figures stepping out of helicopters farther down the southern ridge. Another helicopter was just beginning its descent, its blades stirring the sea into white mist.
Kenji's men waited in all-white uniforms, escorting families quickly but gently through small stone gates and down winding paths.
Most wore dark coats. Some held children close to their chests. Others wheeled small suitcases behind them. I spotted a woman in a flowing red kimono holding her daughter’s hand as they stepped inside one of the nearer villas.
On the right, a teenage boy carried a violin case like it was the only thing that mattered.
I smiled. “You have your men’s families here too.”
“Anyone that I love and all who they love will be protected in this war.”
We passed a small garden with a koi pond and a curved wooden bridge, and I caught sight of a man in a dark robe lighting incense beneath a carved stone dragon.
“You’re safe here, Tora.”
I looked up at him.
“No one—not even the Fox’s men—can reach this place. It’s not just remote. It’s erased.”
I blinked. “Erased?”
“There’s no cellular signal. No GPS locks. No traceable tower pings. Anyone trying to find coordinates gets bounced through fourteen different satellite loops, then dropped into digital noise. Even if someone flew overhead, all they’d see is cloud cover and decoy terrain.”
“How is that possible?”
“I have a team on sister islands scrambling signals and delivering algorithms that choke every system.” He motioned behind us with his chin—toward the dark horizon where the sea swallowed sky. “Japan has over fourteen thousand islands. Most people only think of the main four—Hokkaido, Honshu, Kyushu, and Shikoku—but the smaller ones? That’s where the ghosts live. That’s where we are.”
I muttered in utter disbelief, “Hackers. . .”
“The best. Born in basements. Raised in blackout chatrooms. They’ve been on the islands for years—disguised as fishermen, monks, solar engineers. If anyone tries to trace us, they’ll find an abandoned medical facility in Okinawa or a fake weather station off Aogashima. By the time they realize it’s false, the trail has already moved.”
“I’m beyond impressed.”
