Old Friends

The crisp night air embraced Yuki as he stepped onto the balcony, carrying with it the faint hum of Neo-Tokyo’s restless city life. The sprawling skyline stretched endlessly before him, a labyrinth of towering skyscrapers wrapped in neon and reflected in glass facades. Below, the city thrummed with energy, vehicles weaving through the labyrinthine streets like fireflies caught in an electric web.

But here, above it all, the chaos seemed muted. It was quiet, save for the low hum of distant engines and the occasional gust of wind that carried with it the scent of rain and something metallic, the unmistakable tang of Neo-Tokyo’s engineered air.

Jun stood leaning against the railing, his back straight but his shoulders heavy with something unspoken. His face was bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, his gaze distant, as if searching for answers among the endless sprawl.

Yuki hesitated before stepping closer, his footsteps barely audible against the cold metal floor. He joined Jun at the railing, the silence between them stretching for a moment before he broke it.

“Is she always like that?” Yuki asked, his voice cutting through the stillness.

Jun turned slightly, raising a brow. “Who? Maya?”

“Yeah,” Yuki replied, his tone careful. “Always so… violent.”

Jun let out a short, humorless chuckle, the sound almost lost in the wind. “Pretty much.” He shrugged as if it were a simple fact of life. “You get used to it.”

Yuki frowned, his eyes flicking to the city below. “Used to it?”

Jun sighed, his grip on the railing tightening. “She’s… intense. But she has her reasons.” His voice softened, as if the weight of those reasons pressed down on him. “She’s been through things most people wouldn’t survive. It doesn’t excuse everything, but it explains enough.”

Yuki opened his mouth to ask more but hesitated, the unspoken weight of Jun’s words settling between them. Instead, he leaned forward, letting the cool air brush against his face.

“So… are you finally going to tell me everything?” Yuki asked after a pause. “From the start?”

Jun didn’t respond immediately. He stared out at the city as if the words were somewhere out there, waiting to be pulled from the glowing skyline. Finally, he exhaled deeply. “Yeah. You deserve to know.”

He straightened, his voice quieter now. “It started years ago, after I met you. I’d been on my own for a while by then. An orphan.”

Yuki glanced at him, his brows furrowing.

“I don’t remember much about my parents,” Jun admitted, his tone laced with something bittersweet. “They died when I was young. Some illness, I think. I was too little to understand what was happening. After that, I was passed around the system for a while. Foster homes. Shelters. None of them stuck.” He let out a soft, mirthless laugh. “Guess I thought I could do better on my own.”

“And… could you?” Yuki asked softly.

Jun shrugged, his gaze distant. “I survived. That’s all that mattered back then.”

The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of things unsaid. The faint hum of the city below seemed louder in its absence. Yuki barely seemed to know anything about him.

“Then one day,” Jun continued, his voice taking on a new edge, “this man found me. He called himself the Counselor. He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before. He didn’t pity me, didn’t look at me like I was broken. He… saw potential.”

“Potential for what?” Yuki asked, his curiosity piqued.

Jun hesitated, his fingers gripping the railing tighter. “To be part of something bigger. A movement that could change everything.” He turned to Yuki, his eyes sharp. “The rebellion. He’s the one who started it all.”

Yuki blinked, trying to process the weight of Jun’s words. “And Maya?”

“He’s been raising her since she was five,” Jun said. “She’s been part of this longer than anyone. She’s… everything the rebellion stands for.”

“And everything she told me?” Yuki asked cautiously.

“True,” Jun said without hesitation. “Every word. About the mods, the class divide, your family… all of it.”

Yuki’s stomach churned as he looked out at the city, the glow of the lights suddenly feeling colder.

“And you?” he asked quietly. “When did you… join?”

Jun’s expression softened. “Not long after the Counselor found me. At first, I didn’t care about the rebellion or what it stood for. I just wanted a place to belong. But as I got older, I started to see the bigger picture. What the mods had done to this world. What they’d taken from people like me.”

He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “From us.”

Yuki felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name.

“And the rebellion?” he asked after a moment. “How did it grow so much?”

Jun’s gaze returned to the city, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Slowly, at first. The Counselor had connections—people who believed in the cause. Over the years, word spread. More and more people joined us. Some unmodified, desperate for equality. Others modified, tired of the corruption at the top.”

“And now?” Yuki asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Now we’re stronger than ever,” Jun said, his tone resolute. “But we’re not there yet. We need you, Yuki.”

Yuki’s breath hitched. “How exactly would I help?”

Jun hesitated, memories of files labeled The Sacrifice flashing through his mind. He pushed them aside. “Your parents’ research,” he said carefully. “We’re going to use it to figure out how to transfer your genetic modifications into everyone’s genes.”

“Everyone’s?” Yuki repeated, his voice shaky.

Jun nodded. “Everyone’s. We’re still working out the kinks, but if we can pull it off…” He trailed off, his gaze distant again.

Yuki stared at him, his mind racing. “That’s… ambitious.”

Jun smirked faintly. “It has to be. This world won’t change on its own.”

Yuki’s thoughts drifted to his parents, the memory of their warm smiles and gentle voices tugging at his heart. “My parents must be worried sick,” he murmured.

Jun’s expression darkened, but he didn’t respond.

Yuki let out a shaky breath. “I mean… I disappeared without a word. They probably think—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Jun finally turned to him, his voice low. “If you’re having second thoughts, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“I’m not,” Yuki said quickly, the memory of the hologram flashing in his mind. The slums. The children. The unyielding disparity. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “I’m not.”

Jun studied him for a moment before nodding.

They fell into silence again, the weight of their shared truths settling between them.

“You know,” Jun said after a while, his voice softer, “when I first met the Counselor, I didn’t trust him either. But he’s done more for me than anyone else in this world. You might feel the same when you meet him.”

Yuki frowned, curious. “When do I get to meet him?”

“Soon,” Jun said with a faint smile. “He’s… not what you’d expect.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yuki asked.

“You’ll see,” Jun replied, his smile faltering slightly.

The wind picked up, rustling their hair and carrying with it the distant sounds of the city. Yuki turned his gaze back to the skyline, his thoughts swirling.

“Do you ever wonder,” he asked quietly, “if things will actually change? If it’s even possible?”

Jun’s expression softened. “All the time,” he admitted. “But then I remember why we’re doing this. The people we’re fighting for. The lives we could save. And it feels worth it.”

For the first time in a long while, Yuki felt a flicker of hope.

They stayed on the balcony for a while longer, the city’s endless hum serving as a backdrop to their silence. For now, the shared understanding between them was enough.