The Counselor

The room was still and cold, dimly lit by a single fluorescent bulb that flickered ominously. Yuki’s footsteps echoed as he stepped inside, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it wasn’t this.

The space felt unassuming, like a storage room hastily converted into something more sinister. Yet, there was an air of calculated precision, from the maps pinned to the walls to the meticulous organization of old and new technology scattered across tables.

Maya strode ahead confidently, her sharp steps cutting through the silence. Jun trailed behind, head bowed as though carrying the weight of an entire city on his shoulders. Yuki was sandwiched between them, feeling more like a prisoner than the so-called “key” they kept insisting he was.

At the center of the room, a figure stood motionless. Aged, yet confident and imposing, he turned as the group approached. The Counselor.

Yuki stopped short, his breath catching. The Counselor’s presence was magnetic and suffocating all at once. He wasn’t what he had imagined—older, with streaks of gray running through his neatly combed hair—but his piercing gaze was enough to make him feel exposed, like he could see straight through him.

Maya gestured at Yuki like he was a trophy. “Here he is,” she announced, her voice carrying a hint of pride. “Yuki Ito.”

The Counselor’s lips curved into a thin smile. “So this is the boy,” he said, voice smooth yet commanding. “The one we’ve been waiting for.”

Yuki swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. “Uh… hi?”

Jun, who had been unusually quiet since they entered, gave him a sideways glance.

The Counselor ignored the awkward greeting, taking a step closer to Yuki. His sharp eyes roved over him, assessing every inch like a sculptor examining raw marble.

“So young,” he murmured, almost to himself. “And yet, so vital.”

Yuki shifted uncomfortably.

The Counselor’s smile widened slightly, turning to Maya. “Good work bringing him here.”

Maya nodded, her arms crossed.

The Counselor glanced at Jun, who had yet to speak. “And you? Any objections now that he’s here?”

Jun stiffened but shook his head. “No objections,” he muttered.

Yuki frowned at that. Objections?

“I’m sure you have questions, Yuki. All in due time. For now, follow me. There are people you need to meet,” the Counselor said briskly, already turning toward the door.

The hallway they entered was starkly different from the dim room they had just left. It was bustling with activity, a hive of energy and purpose. People rushed past, some carrying files and tablets, others with tools and gadgets Yuki couldn’t even begin to identify. The air buzzed with murmured conversations and the hum of machinery.

Yuki struggled to keep up with the Counselor’s brisk pace, his eyes darting around in wide-eyed curiosity. It was like stepping into a completely different world.

“Is it always this… busy?” Yuki asked hesitantly.

“Always,” Maya replied curtly. “Revolutions don’t organize themselves.”

Jun, walking a step behind them, added quietly, “They’re like this all the time. You’ll get used to it.”

Yuki wasn’t so sure.

They entered a larger room, a command center of sorts, with screens and holograms displaying maps, schematics, and surveillance footage of Neo-Tokyo. Around a dozen people were stationed there, their attention glued to their tasks.

“This,” the Counselor said, spreading his arms, “is the heart of our rebellion.”

Yuki’s breath hitched. He had imagined the rebellion as a ragtag group of idealists hiding in basements—not… this.

“I’m sure you’re recognizing people already,” the Counselor said, his tone laced with amusement.

Yuki blinked in confusion until his gaze landed on someone he knew. A Genesis classmate. His stomach dropped. It was someone he’d seen hanging out with Raina, Tadashi, and Shinichi. The girl’s casual nod of acknowledgment sent a shiver down his spine.

“She’s a part of this?” he murmured.

The Counselor chuckled softly. “You’ll find that our reach is far greater than you imagined.”

The classmate didn’t approach him but kept her eyes on the screen in front of her. Yuki’s mind raced with questions, but before he could speak, the Counselor gestured for him to follow again.

The next stop was a training area. It was a cavernous space filled with people sparring, lifting weights, and practicing drills. Maya stopped to observe one of the groups, her eyes narrowing critically.

“These are the people you’ll be working with,” the Counselor said. “Each of them is here because they believe in our cause. Because they want a better future.”

Yuki frowned. “A better future? By fighting?”

“Sometimes,” the Counselor replied, “the only way to create change is to break the system first. And breaking the system requires strength.”

Yuki’s gaze flicked to Maya, who stood with her arms crossed, watching the trainees like a hawk. “She’s… strong, all right,” he muttered under his breath.

Maya smirked, clearly hearing him. “You’ll need strength too if you’re going to survive.”

“Survive what?”

“Everything,” Maya said cryptically.

The Counselor intervened, steering Yuki away. “Come. There’s more to see.”

Later, the group reconvened in a quieter area of the facility. Yuki was exhausted from trying to absorb everything he’d seen and heard. The sheer scale of the rebellion was overwhelming, and the weight of his supposed importance pressed down on him like a physical burden.

The Counselor sat across from him, his expression unreadable. “What do you think so far?”

Yuki hesitated. “It’s… a lot,” he admitted. “I still don’t get why I’m so important.”

The Counselor leaned forward, gaze intense. “You are the proof, Yuki. Proof that the system can be undone. That modifications aren’t the answer. Your parents’ work, your genetic code—it’s everything we need to change the world.”

Yuki stared at him, his mind spinning. “But how? What are you going to do with my mods?”

“That,” the Counselor said, “is a conversation for another time.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of introductions and explanations. Yuki met more members of the rebellion, each with their own stories and reasons for joining. He heard about families torn apart, livelihoods destroyed, and lives lost—all because of the divide between modified and unmodified.

As he listened, a sense of responsibility began to creep into his chest. These people were looking to him as their savior, their hope. And yet, he still felt like a scared, ordinary kid caught up in something far bigger than himself.

By the time he finally crawled into a bed at Jun’s place—where he was currently staying after his mysterious disappearance from his parents’ apartment—his mind was racing with questions.

What would his parents think if they knew where he was? What was this mysterious “plan” they kept hinting at? And most importantly… what if he failed?

As sleep finally claimed him, one thought lingered in the back of his mind:

What have I gotten myself into? And why don’t I want to leave?