Chapter Text
Tadano sat alone in his glass-walled office, bathed in the glow of a dozen screens displaying various news feeds. Each monitor flickered with breaking news banners, live streams of financial analysts looking panicked, and footage of stock traders in Shibuya, Ginza, and Marunouchi losing their composure. The room was silent except for the hum of the screens and the soft buzz of Tadano's phone vibrating intermittently with incoming messages.
The headlines scrolled endlessly:
"MAJOR CORPORATIONS FILE FOR BANKRUPTCY AS STOCK MARKETS FREE-FALL"
"TECH GIANTS ANNOUNCE ASSET RELOCATION TO CHINA AND SOUTH KOREA"
"SINGAPORE BECOMES HAVEN FOR FLEEING COMPANIES AMID CRISIS"
Tadano's gaze drifted between the screens as if he was watching the inevitable unfold in slow motion. One news stream featured a stern-faced newscaster explaining how several CEOs had already resigned within hours of the collapse, fleeing to countries with lenient extradition laws. Another stream displayed crowds in front of corporate headquarters, faces pressed against glass doors, demanding answers.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as the chaos played out like a scene from a cyberpunk dystopian novel he used to read as a kid. He didn’t feel fear. If anything, he felt a grim sense of vindication.
"This was always coming," Tadano thought. "Anyone who paid attention could see the cracks forming. The system wasn’t built to last. It was built to extract until there was nothing left."
His eyes flickered toward the primary screen displaying a financial analyst who was frantically pointing at graphs that all looked like plunging waterfalls. The Nikkei had taken another 30% dive within minutes of opening. Margin calls were liquidating entire firms overnight, wiping out pensions, savings, and futures in a brutal cascade.
Tadano picked up a remote and unmuted one of the streams.
"What we’re seeing is unprecedented," the analyst’s voice trembled as he spoke. "Decades of unchecked corporate greed, reckless speculation, and over-reliance on foreign markets have culminated in the complete implosion of our financial ecosystem. And with the semiconductor and microchip independence movements in the U.S. finally coming to fruition, Japan’s tech sector is collapsing under the pressure."
The feed cut to a live scene outside a shuttered bank. Protestors were shouting angrily, throwing objects at the locked glass doors while riot police formed a barricade.
Tadano’s lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile. "They propped it up as long as they could. Pretended everything was fine. But you can’t stop an avalanche by covering it with a tarp."
One of the smaller screens displayed a breaking story from Singapore: "Kaneda Tech Announces Strategic Relocation to China Amid Japanese Market Collapse." Tadano chuckled under his breath. The rats were fleeing the ship faster than he expected.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. His office was sleek and minimalist, designed to be both a workspace and a sanctuary. But even in this calm oasis, he felt the tension thrumming beneath the surface of the world.
"The Great Reset," he thought, his expression growing contemplative. "It’s ugly, but maybe it’s necessary."
Tadano had always known that the system was a time bomb. He’d built his empire outside of it, disrupting industries instead of propping them up. He wasn’t like the old CEOs scrambling to protect their fortunes. He saw this collapse as an opportunity—a chance to rebuild something better.
His phone buzzed again, a notification lighting up the screen:
"Haida: On my way up."
Tadano’s smile grew wider.
"Perfect timing."
He stood and adjusted his tailored blazer, stepping over to the glass wall that overlooked the rest of the cafe. Patrons milled about below, unaware of the magnitude of what was happening beyond their phones and coffee orders. They were trying to live their normal lives, oblivious to the fact that the world was changing around them.
Tadano felt a strange kind of sympathy for them—not pity, but a quiet understanding. People didn’t like change. They clung to what was familiar, even if it was rotten to the core.
But he wasn’t afraid of change. He thrived on it.
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small flash drive. The sleek black drive would help either reshape Japan’s tech landscape or bring it to its knees. He twirled it between his fingers thoughtfully.
"If we’re going to rebuild," he thought, "we have to be willing to burn the old world down first."
The office door slid open with a quiet hiss, and Haida stepped inside, looking pale and shaken. His eyes darted toward the monitors, taking in the chaos before meeting Tadano’s calm, collected gaze.
"Looks like you’ve been watching," Haida muttered, his voice hoarse.
Tadano gestured toward the chair across from him. "Of course. It’s history in the making."
Haida sat down heavily, running a hand through his fur. "It’s bad, man. People are already panicking at work. They’re talking about mass layoffs and... I don’t know if I’m going to make it out of this."
Tadano tilted his head, studying Haida carefully. "What if I told you... you don’t have to be a part of that system anymore?"
Haida’s eyes narrowed. "You mean... your 'homework,' right?"
Tadano nodded and leaned in, his voice soft but deliberate. "The last step. The greatest gamble of all time. If we do this right, Haida... we don’t just free ourselves. We expose Kaneda Tech for what they really are. And we break their stranglehold on the future."
Haida swallowed hard, the enormity of what Tadano was proposing settling on his shoulders like a heavy angel and devil on each one. "What exactly are we exposing?"
Tadano’s gaze darkened. "The Eyes of Tomorrow program. The surveillance system they’re selling to the Chinese government. Military-grade tech designed to control people at a level that makes dystopian fiction look tame." He held up the flash drive. "This is everything we need to blow it wide open."
Haida’s mind reeled. The stakes were higher than he’d ever imagined. This wasn’t just about freedom or survival—it was about the future of the entire country.
Tadano’s voice was steady, almost hypnotic. "But you have to make a choice, Haida. You’re either all in... or you’re out."
Haida stared at the flash drive, his pulse thudding in his ears. This was the moment. The final level. The choice that would define everything.
Tadano leaned back, giving Haida the space to think. "So... what’s it going to be?"
Haida closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the chaos around him fade for just a moment. When he opened them again, his answer was clear.
"I’m in."
Haida leaned back in the chair, still trying to process everything Tadano had told him. He rested his elbows on the armrests and steepled his fingers, his mind buzzing with questions. After a long pause, he finally asked, "How the hell did you know about the ‘Eyes of Tomorrow’ program? I work at Kaneda Tech, and I only found out about it from my boss recently. But you... you’ve had this figured out for a while."
Tadano gave a small, knowing smile and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "You think Kaneda Tech and companies like it operate in isolation? Haida, the corporate world isn’t just a bunch of disconnected giants trying to outdo each other in sales reports and patents. It’s a war zone—one where the weapons are data, blackmail, and espionage. And in Japan it’s worse than ever. We’re living in a new zaibatsu age."
Haida blinked. "Zaibatsu? You mean like the pre-World War II industrial conglomerates?"
Tadano nodded. "Exactly. But instead of Mitsui, Mitsubishi, and Sumitomo ruling the economy, it’s tech giants like Kaneda Tech, Oshima Dynamics, and Tsukuba Cybernetics. The tech sector’s been carving out fiefdoms for years, using shell corporations, private intelligence networks, and even state-sponsored projects to undermine their rivals. And while everyone’s distracted by the shiny gadgets and new app launches, these corporations have been waging a shadow war."
Haida leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "And Kaneda Tech is... one of the major players in this war?"
Tadano’s expression darkened. "One of the worst. They’re not just developing tech—they’re developing control. ‘Eyes of Tomorrow’ isn’t just some fancy surveillance program. It’s a complete invasion of autonomy. Real-time tracking, predictive behavior algorithms... They’re selling it to the Chinese government, right? Who plan to use it to crush dissent and cement their dominance over the Pacific…"
Haida exhaled slowly, running a hand through his fur. "But how do you know all this? How did you get your hands on that kind of intel?"
Tadano chuckled softly and tapped his temple. "I didn’t build my empire on charm alone, Haida. I have connections—disillusioned programmers, whistleblowers, even former corporate spies. They know the system’s rotten, and they’ve been feeding me information for years. Kaneda Tech’s plans came to me in fragments, but when I saw the patterns..." He spread his hands. "It all clicked."
Haida shook his head, still struggling to wrap his mind around the scale of what Tadano was describing. "And now that everything’s collapsing... you think these companies are just going to pack up and leave?"
Tadano’s smile faded. "Not for long. Sure, they’ll run. They’ll flee to Singapore, to Silicon Valley, to Seoul. But they’ll come back, Haida. Once the dust settles, they’ll return like colonizers reclaiming land they abandoned. Only this time, they’ll own everything outright—no oversight, no regulation. They’ll rebuild Japan in their image."
Haida felt a chill run down his spine. "Corporate-colonization... of their own country," he murmured. The thought was sickening—mega-corporations returning to exploit the ruins they helped create.
Tadano leaned closer, his voice low but intense. "That’s why I’m doing this. We can’t let that happen. If we expose Kaneda Tech and their involvement in the collapse—especially their deal with China—it could change everything. Japan’s struggling, but if the truth comes out, we might still salvage its independence and keep it aligned with the free market and the western world."
Haida’s ears flicked as he absorbed Tadano’s words. "You think we can... what? Reinforce Japan’s alliances? Make it a beacon of free enterprise again?"
Tadano gave a small nod. "It’s not about waving flags or preaching ideology. It’s about reminding the world that the people who live here aren’t just pawns in some corporate chess game. If we let companies like Kaneda Tech sell us out to authoritarian regimes, there’s no coming back. We’ll be another cog in someone else’s machine."
The room fell into silence, the hum of the monitors the only sound. Haida stared at the glowing screens, watching clips of stock tickers, headlines, and crowds of protestors demanding answers. His gut twisted with uncertainty.
Tadano’s voice softened. "Look, I’m not saying this will be easy. Hell, it could get us both killed. But if we don’t fight back now... then we’re letting them win. We’re letting them define what freedom means for the next generation. And I don’t know about you, Haida, but I’m not about to let some CEO and his shareholders write that story for me."
Haida let out a shaky breath, his mind racing. He thought about his father, Juzo, who had tried to manipulate his life in the shadows. He thought about the surveillance system Tadano was describing—an Orwellian nightmare brought to life. And he thought about the people he cared about: Inui, Retsuko, even Shikabane. If this system was allowed to grow unchecked, none of them would have any real agency left.
He looked up at Tadano, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and resolve. "Okay," he said quietly. "What’s the plan?"
Tadano’s grin returned, a spark of determination in his eyes. "First, we blow the lid off the program. I’ve got contacts who can help us leak the data—journalists, activists, even some people in the Diet who’ve been waiting for something like this. But we need more than documents. We need a smoking gun."
Haida’s brow furrowed. "And where do we find that?"
Tadano tapped the flash drive still resting on the desk. "Kaneda Tech’s central server in their Shinjuku office. It’s locked tighter than a vault, but with the right approach... we can break in. And when we do? We’ll make sure the world sees exactly what they’re up to."
Haida’s heart pounded as the enormity of the task set in. It felt like he was standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down into the unknown. But for the first time in a long while, he felt something other than fear—he felt purpose.
He nodded slowly. "Let’s do it."
Tadano’s grin widened, and he extended his hand across the desk. "Welcome to the final level, Haida."
Haida took his hand and shook it firmly. "Let’s blow this whole thing wide open."
—
Haida sat stiffly in the backseat of the sleek black car, the leather cool against his arms as the city blurred past the windows. The faint scent of air freshener mixed with the distant saltiness of the waterfront breeze creeping in through the cracked window. Kobayashi, Tadano's personal driver, sat in the front, his large paws steady on the wheel as he navigated the neon-lit streets of Minato Ward. The guy looked cool as a cucumber—his reflective aviators masking any sign of emotion.
Haida's phone was pressed against his ear, Tadano’s voice crackling through the line.
"This hacker... They’ve been on the inside at Kaneda Tech for a while. You might even know them. You two might’ve crossed paths during one of your late-night deployments or those IT 'emergencies' they always pulled you in for," Tadano explained, his tone calm but focused.
Haida raised an eyebrow. "Really? Someone from the inside? You’re not worried they might double-cross us?"
Tadano let out a short laugh. "They’d only do that if someone offered them something better—and trust me, Kaneda Tech isn’t handing out anything worthwhile right now. They’re bleeding money and reputation. This hacker? They’ve been waiting for their golden parachute, and we’re offering them the best way out."
Haida rubbed his temples, trying to process it all. His nerves were frayed, his head buzzing from the chaos of the day. "Alright, fine. But what about the flash drive? You’re telling me this tiny thing is going to crack the Kaneda Tech servers? That’s... a bit hard to believe."
Tadano’s voice took on that smug, almost amused edge it always did when he knew more than he was letting on. "It’s not just a flash drive, Haida. Think of it as a micro-computer packed with more processing power than most high-end laptops. It’s got its own power source, storage unit, and an adaptive processor designed to outpace any corporate firewall."
Haida stared down at the flash drive in his hand, turning it between his fingers. It was small—sleek and metallic, barely larger than his thumb. It didn’t look like something that could bring down a tech giant.
Tadano continued, his tone almost reverent. "The actual decryption virus still needs to be loaded, though. That’s why you’re meeting the hacker. This thing’s just the shell—the casing. The virus will do the real work. It’s a sophisticated worm built to shatter their encryption and auto-download all relevant files. And the best part? It deletes itself after the job is done. No digital fingerprints."
Haida felt a chill at the implications. "So... this thing’s capable of cracking open the servers and pulling out classified data like it’s nothing."
"Exactly," Tadano confirmed. "That drive is worth more than most people make in a lifetime. So don’t lose it."
Haida let out a small, nervous chuckle. "No pressure, huh?"
"Nope," Tadano replied cheerfully. "Just... be careful. And listen to what the hacker tells you."
The line clicked off, leaving Haida with a familiar sense of unease. He stared out the window as the buildings thinned out, replaced by quieter streets and the faint outline of the waterfront. The glow of the Tokyo Tower in the distance shimmered over the water, casting long, golden reflections.
Kobayashi cleared his throat, breaking the silence in the car. "So," he said without turning around. "First time doing something like this?"
Haida blinked, caught off guard. "Uh... yeah. You could say that."
Kobayashi chuckled softly. "I figured. You’ve got that ‘deer in headlights’ look."
Haida gave an awkward laugh. "I thought I was hiding it pretty well."
"Nah. You’re broadcasting it loud and clear," Kobayashi replied, glancing at Haida briefly in the rearview mirror. "But hey, don’t sweat it. Everyone’s got a first time for... whatever this is."
Haida shifted in his seat. "You... ever get involved in this kind of thing?"
Kobayashi smirked. "I’m just the driver, man. But I’ve seen a lot of things in this line of work. You’d be surprised how many people think they’re saving the world, only to end up chasing their tails."
Haida raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of saying I’m making a mistake?"
Kobayashi shrugged as they pulled up to a red light. "Nah.”
The light turned green, and the car continued down a narrow street lined with old warehouses and rusted fences. The air grew heavier with the scent of sea salt and motor oil.
Haida tapped the flash drive against his palm, trying to shake off the doubt creeping into his mind. "I just want to do something that matters," he muttered.
Kobayashi nodded. "Then make it matter."
The car slowed as they approached a run-down dockside with a militant fence keeping most people out, its neon sign flickering weakly. The entrance was shadowed by crates and a pile of scrap metal. Haida could barely make out the faint hum of machinery inside.
Kobayashi parked the car and killed the engine. "Here we are. The hacker’s expecting you."
Haida took a deep breath and opened the door. The cool evening air hit his face, sharp and briny.
Kobayashi leaned out the window. "Good luck, man. And hey... try not to get stabbed."
Haida managed a weak grin. "I’ll do my best."
He pocketed the flash drive and walked toward the entrance, his footsteps echoing against the damp pavement. The building loomed ahead like the entrance to some secret lair. For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of his choices pressing down on him again.
"This is it," he thought. "The final level."
With one last glance over his shoulder, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, ready to meet whoever was waiting for him.
The scent of rust and oil hung thick in the air as Haida walked further into the shipyard, the sound of machinery humming in the background. The vast space stretched out like the hollowed ribcage of some long-dead industrial beast. Enormous ship propellers, polished to a dull bronze sheen, loomed over him, suspended from heavy iron chains or mounted onto repair stands. The propellers were massive—each blade curved with precision, reflecting the overhead lights like mirrors of an unforgiving past.
Haida felt impossibly small. The sheer scale of everything around him pressed down on his chest. He stopped briefly in front of one of the propellers, watching as a night-shift worker in a grime-stained jumpsuit skillfully adjusted the fittings with a wrench. Sparks flew as a nearby welder sealed a crack in one of the propeller blades. The workers moved like they were part of the machinery itself—steady, precise, unwavering. It was mesmerizing in a strange way.
"This place used to be alive," Haida thought. "Built to keep ships running, to send people across oceans. And now...?" His gaze drifted to the far end of the workshop, where the noise was different—louder, angrier.
A crowd of workers had gathered near the entrance to the main office building. Their shouts reverberated through the space, raw with frustration and fear. A group of private security guards stood in front of the doors, blocking their way. The guards wore dark, paramilitary-style uniforms emblazoned with a familiar logo—a silver shield with an angular "K" in the center.
"Kirimoto Security," Haida muttered under his breath, recognizing the name. They were infamous in corporate circles for their aggressive "conflict resolution" tactics, a.k.a. union-busting.
The tension in the air was palpable. The workers were waving signs and yelling at the top of their lungs, demanding justice.
"Where’s our severance, huh?" a burly lion in an orange safety vest shouted, his voice hoarse. "You think you can just walk away from this without paying us what you owe?"
"Why should we starve while your CEOs are sipping cocktails in Singapore?" a younger fox shouted, her fists clenched at her sides.
One of the Kirimoto guards, a tall wolf with a rigid stance, raised his hand in what was supposed to be a calming gesture but came across as condescending. "Please disperse. The company is handling the situation through the appropriate legal channels. There’s no need for a demonstration."
"Legal channels?" the lion barked back, stepping forward. "We’ve got kids to feed! You think we can wait around while some boardroom decides if we’re worth a damn?!"
The crowd surged closer, voices rising in anger. The guards shifted into defensive positions, their hands resting near their batons. Haida felt his pulse quicken. He’d seen situations like this escalate before, and it never ended well.
"These people are scared," Haida thought. "They’re not asking for a miracle—they’re just asking not to be thrown away."
He found himself inching toward the crowd, caught between the overwhelming desire to help and the fear of drawing attention to himself. But just as he was about to step closer, he heard a voice over the crowd—sharp, authoritative.
"Enough!"
The workers paused, turning toward the voice. A woman in her late 40s stood on the edge of the gathering, her arms crossed. She had the air of someone who’d seen too many fights and wasn’t afraid of another. Her voice cut through the noise like a whip.
"I get it," she continued, her voice steady. "We’re all angry. But if we let them push us into something violent, we lose. They’ve got cameras, lawyers, and connections. You know what we have? Each other. We stay united, but we stay smart."
The crowd murmured, some nodding in reluctant agreement.
Haida exhaled slowly, relieved that things hadn’t boiled over—for now. He glanced back toward the entrance to the smaller office area where the hacker was supposedly waiting for him. The noise of the protest dulled behind him as he moved past rows of workbenches and industrial tools. But the voices of the workers stayed with him, echoing in his mind.
Haida was startled when one of the workers near the crowd, a tall bear with slicked-back fur and sleeves of intricate tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up coveralls, approached him. The tattoos were unmistakably Yakuza in style—dragons coiled around chrysanthemums, detailed waves cresting up his arms. Haida instinctively stiffened but tried to keep his cool.
"You with Tadano?" the bear asked, his voice low but calm. His eyes had the kind of calculating sharpness that belonged to someone who had seen too much.
Haida nodded slowly, unsure of whether to be wary or relieved. "Yeah... I’m here on his orders."
The bear sized him up, then jerked his head toward the office area. "Follow me."
Haida followed the bear past the edge of the crowd and toward the building's back entrance. They passed rows of desks cluttered with blueprints, half-eaten bento boxes, and hastily scrawled notes. The office smelled of coffee, sweat, and tension. It was cramped, with people packed into cubicles like sardines. The workers inside were hunched over their computers, their faces drawn and exhausted as they hammered out emails, financial reports, and spreadsheets. They were desperately trying to untangle the mess the crisis had thrown them into—trying to unfuck themselves.
The bear led Haida further down a narrow hallway until they reached a door marked “Custodial Services Office." The door was slightly ajar, and the faint sound of a mechanical hum drifted out. The bear pushed it open and gestured for Haida to enter.
"Good luck," the bear muttered before turning and walking back toward the main floor.
Haida stepped into the office, his eyes adjusting to the warm yellow glow of a desk lamp. The room was small and cluttered, the walls lined with old shipping manifests and peeling posters advertising ship repair services. A few outdated computer monitors sat stacked in a corner, collecting dust, while the main desk in front of him was littered with soda cans, half-eaten snacks, and a tangle of cables.
Haida stepped into the office, his eyes adjusting to the warm yellow glow of a desk lamp. The room was small and cluttered, the walls lined with old shipping manifests and peeling posters advertising ship repair services. A few outdated computer monitors sat stacked in a corner, collecting dust, while the main desk in front of him was littered with soda cans, half-eaten snacks, and a tangle of cables.
She glanced up from her screen as Haida entered and smirked. Her features were had an angular jawline and narrow eyes that sparkled with mischief. Something about her felt familiar—not just in a vague way, but intimately familiar.
"Oh, it really is you, the guy from interior tech support," she said, her voice low and raspy. "Looking sort of like shit."
Haida blinked, momentarily thrown off by her familiarity with his name. "You know me?"
The woman snorted and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "We crossed paths a few times at Kaneda Tech. You probably don’t remember me—I was just another cog in the wheel, right? But you... you stood out. I mean, you were the guy who kept showing up looking like you were losing fights on consecutive nights."
Haida winced at the memory. "That... wasn’t my finest hour."
She laughed softly and shook her head. "Relax, I’m not judging.”
Haida took a step closer, still trying to place her. There was something about the way she carried herself—the dry tone, the way she slouched but stayed alert—that tugged at a memory. Then it hit him: she looked a lot like Shikabane.
"You’re... you’re related to Shikabane, aren’t you?" he asked, his brow furrowed.
"Yeah. She’s my cousin. Name’s Mikako. Saw you in a post of her’s, like a year ago. Small world when it comes to people like us."
Haida exhaled slowly and took a seat in the worn office chair across from her. "Small world."
Mikako shrugged. "Tokyo’s smaller than you think when you are around long enough. Anyway, Tadano filled me in on what you need. Let me guess—you’re carrying the magic stick?"
Haida fished the sleek flash drive out of his pocket and set it on the desk. Mikako picked it up and turned it over in her hand, inspecting it like a jeweler examining a gemstone.
"Looks pretty unassuming for something that’s supposed to take down a megacorp, doesn’t it?" she muttered.
Haida nodded. "Tadano says it’s a micro-computer packed with everything we need—except for the virus."
Mikako set the flash drive down and powered up one of her main computers. The screen lit up with lines of code scrolling past faster than Haida could track. "That’s where I come in. The ‘safe cracker,’ as he calls it, isn’t much without a payload. I’ve been working on something custom. A worm that’ll not only bypass Kaneda Tech’s security but download every piece of incriminating data they’ve got on the ‘Eyes of Tomorrow’ project."
She inserted the flash drive into a USB port, and the screen blinked as the system began to upload the virus. Haida watched the process, the soft hum of the computer filling the silence between them.
Mikako glanced at him as she typed, her fingers moving with practiced ease. "So... how deep are you in this?"
Haida rubbed his temples, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on him. "Too deep to walk away now. Tadano says this could change everything. But I can’t tell if I’m doing the right thing or if I’m just... helping burn everything down."
Mikako paused and leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers against the desk. "You’re not the first person to feel like that. You think I haven’t asked myself the same thing? Whether exposing the truth actually helps anyone? Whether it's worth the risk?" She let out a long sigh. "But the way I see it? When a system’s this rotten, maybe it does need to burn. Maybe it’s the only way to rebuild something better."
Haida stared at her, taking in her words. "You really believe that?"
Mikako shrugged. "Some days. Other days... I just want to get paid and log off." She smirked again, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came. "But today? Yeah. I believe it."
The upload bar on the screen inched closer to completion, the green line glowing faintly. Mikako folded her arms and leaned toward Haida. "Look, I’m not going to lie to you—once this thing is installed, there’s no going back. Kaneda Tech’s going to know someone was inside their system, and they’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks if they figure out who. You ready for that?"
Haida’s grip tightened on the edge of the desk. "I don’t think anyone’s ever really ready for something like this... but yeah. I’m in."
Mikako nodded approvingly. "Good. Because Tadano isn’t the type to give second chances as much as you’d like to think." She turned back to the screen as the upload hit 100%, a soft beep signaling that the process was complete.
She ejected the flash drive and handed it back to Haida. "There you go—loaded and ready to crash the party. Once you plug this in at Kaneda Tech, everything they’ve been hiding is going to be laid bare."
Haida stared at the small device in his hand, feeling the enormity of what he was holding. "Thanks, Mikako."
"Don’t thank me yet," she said, standing up and stretching. "This isn’t over until you get that data out and expose it. After that? Well... let’s hope Tadano’s right about this being worth it."
Haida slipped the flash drive back into his pocket and stood. "If this works... maybe we’ll all finally get some answers."
Mikako watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded toward the door. "Be careful out there, Haida."
He gave her a small, determined smile before turning and heading toward the exit. The echoes of the workers' protests and the clanging of machinery filled the air as he stepped back into the dimly lit shipyard.
"This is it," he thought. "The beginning of the end."