His mind must be spinning right now. He must be wondering how I got in here, whether the Phoenix Riders are in on whatever my plans are.
On the surface, though, I just smile back and play along, as if everything were fine. “Well, is that my fault, or yours?”
He turns briefly to his other guests, all of whom are staring at us with obvious interest. “My apologies,” he says. His eyes go to his bodyguards. “Stay here. I won’t be long.” Without waiting to hear their responses, he turns to me and places one hand at the small of my back. I try to ignore the sensation, that the only thing separating us is the silky fabric of this dress.
His expression is tired, and I wonder if he’s learned anything new about the bug in the algorithm since I eavesdropped on hisconversation. He doesn’t seem like he trusts me, but for some reason, he still nods and steers us through the hall until it branches into the museum’s interior, where one corridor leads out into a vast courtyard.
There’s a slight chill in the night air, and the grounds are sparsely populated with only a few people here and there. Trees line the sides of a towering structure that curves up to the evening sky. Other art installations look like they’re dedicated specifically to Warcross. One series of 3-D sculptures forms the Warcross logo from certain angles, and from other angles looks like an Artifact, or a popular virtual item, or the outfit of an official player. Another piece of art is a stylized interpretation of the various worlds used in this year’s championships, a series of white polygons in a row, representing the ice columns from the White World I’d played in or modern art ruins of a city encased behind a giant glass cube tinted an underwater green color. Yet another looks like a real-life ode to Warcross’s virtual-reality realms: dozens of giant, round lights installed in the ground, so that each shoots a colored beam up toward the sky. Orchestral music plays softly, changing whenever we step onto one of the light columns, matching each color to a different musical cue. As we walk through them, we cast shadows haloed in the color of that column of light.
The mood would feel almost peaceful, if it weren’t for the reason we’re out here.
Now Hideo leads us close to the light installation. Blue and yellow beams cast their colors against his skin.
“Where are we going?” I say.
Hideo’s gaze turns dark. “I’m escorting you out,” he says in a low voice.
I’m not surprised by his words, but they still hit me hard. He doesn’t speculate about the fact that I’d clearly gotten help fromthe Riders or that I might be here to hurt him. He just looks at me like I’m nothing more than some distant associate that he’d already forgotten. I can feel my cheeks warming, my heartbeat beginning to race. It’s stupid of me to still be bothered by him, but I can’t force the sting down. It makes me think that maybe I’d always read him wrong.
Unless he’s afraid of me being here.Maybe he’s afraid that I’ve been sent here after him. And he’d be right.
“Please,” I respond before I can think through my words. “Just hear me out. I’m not here to argue with you. Neither of us has the time for that.”
“Whatareyou doing here, Emika?” Hideo says with a sigh. He glances briefly toward the bright museum hall, the impatience obvious in his glare.
I swallow hard, and then take a step onto one of the light columns. Yellow light illuminates everything around me, and the music shifts to an active orchestral piece. Hideo follows me. “I’ve found something you need to know,” I say, my words shielded from any prying ears by the music. From a distance, it looks like we’re just two people enjoying the art installation.
I hold my breath, ready for Hideo to call for his guards. He doesn’t. He studies my expression, as if searching for what I might say next. “Tell me,” he says.
I take another step onto a different light column. This time, I’m bathed in blue, and the music shifts to a deeper track. The words sit at the tip of my tongue.Your brother is Zero. The same hacker we’d been tracking throughout the championships.
Once he knows, there’s no turning back.
“I’ll show you instead,” I reply.
Then I bring up an image of Zero without his armor, his face exposed and unmistakable. The image hovers between us.
It’s as if I’d struck Hideo straight in the chest. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink. The color drains from his face. In the blue light, his skin takes on an ominous glow from below, and his eyes look like black marbles. His lips tighten. His hands move slightly, and when I look down at them, he’s balled both into fists so tightly that his scarred knuckles have turned white.
His stare never leaves Sasuke’s face, one that looks so similar to his own. He scrutinizes everything—the way his eyes turn sideways, the thoughtful tilt of his head, the hardness of his smile. Maybe he’s making a mental list of all the ways the two of them are alike, or maybe he’s matching up these features with what he remembers of Sasuke as a child, as if he’d drawn a new image in his head with these two pictures combined.
Then his eyes shutter. Whatever he thinks of the photo disappears behind a cloud of disbelief. He turns to me. “This has to be fake. You’re lying to me.”
“I’ve never been more truthful.” I keep my words steady and the image unwavering.
He straightens and takes a step away from me, so that half of him is in a red column of light. “This photo isn’t real. That isn’t him.”
“It’s real. I swear it on my life.”
The anger on his face is growing every second, a wall bricking in the part of him that had believed me. Still, I stay where I am, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. “I’ve met your brother.” Then I join him on the red light as I continue, slower and more forcefully this time. “I don’t know everything about him yet, and I can’t tell you everything here. But I saw him with my own eyes—I’ve spoken with him directly. Zero is your brother.”
“You’re baiting me.”
There in his voice. I hear it, the tiniest hint of doubt, a delay long enough to tell me that I may be getting through to him.
“I’m not.” I shake my head. “Didn’t you originally hire me to hunt for people you’re searching for? This is what I do.”
“Except you don’t work for me anymore.” He narrows his eyes at me. There’s fire in his gaze, but beyond that, I can see fear. “There’s nothing holding us together that would make you do this, unless you want something from me. So what is it, Emika? What do youreallywant?”
