By the time I get back to the hotel, a masquerade parade has broken out in the neighboring district, and cosplayers have spilled over from Harajuku’s Takeshita Street onto the sidewalks of Omotesando. People dressed in their most elaborate getups—both real and virtual—are walking around while crowds gather along the shop entrances to gawk and admire. The streets themselves are lit up in virtual neon colors, fading gradually from one team’s hues to the next, and each time they shift, a burst of cheers comes from the fans. A closer look tells me that most of the cosplayers are dressed in some variation of the teams’ outfits from this year’s championships.

I catch glimpses of their vibrant costumes from my window as I hurry around, changing out of my dress and throwing on my black jeans and sweater. Black gloves go on my hands, fresh socks and sneakers on my feet. My pair of slim knives is tucked inside my boots, while my backpack is filled with my usual supplies—my grappling hook, handcuffs, and stun gun. Finally, I download a randomly generated face to set over my features and pull a new mask over the lower half of my face.

I may be running with a fancier crew now, but the familiar ritual and the weight of my old tools feel right, convincing me that I actually know what the hell I’m doing, even as Hideo’s words from the banquet earlier whirl around in my head.

He looked like I had ripped his heart right out of his chest.

Believe me, I regret nothing more.

I scowl and yank harder on my shoelaces. None of this was ever my fault, and he knows it. But my encounter with him has still left me spinning, my mind crowded with all the different emotions that he brings.

An incoming message from Zero cuts through my train of thoughts. I startle in the darkness and glance up, half expecting to see him standing there in the middle of my room.

How was your meeting with Hideo?

“I managed to get a second one with him,” I whisper back, my words transcribing in midair before being sent back to him.

When?

“Tomorrow night. It’ll be private—no public settings.”

There’s a pause, and I wonder whether he or Jax had somehow spied on my earlier conversation already, and whether he’s just testing me now to see if I’ll tell him the truth.

Make sure it counts.

Outside, a huge roar goes up as the streets shift to red and gold, the Phoenix Riders’ colors. Cars honk in enthusiasm as they drive by.

“It will,” I say.

No more replies come from him.

I wait a little longer, then sigh and bring up Tremaine’s map of the Innovation Institute. I tap on Tremaine’s profile to send him a message.

“Hey,” I murmur, watching my words appear in my view. “You still in for tonight?”

I wait for a while. There’s a bit of static on his end, but nothing more, and when he doesn’t respond, I take a look at his profile. He’s still online, and his profile is haloed in green.

Hey.

I message again.

Blackbourne. Wake up.

Maybe his connection’s bad. Or maybe he really doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, not after everything he spilled to me last night. I unplug my board from its charger, trying not to dwell on what other reasons he might have for being silent.

When he still doesn’t answer me after a few more messages, I get up and grab my board. Heading to the institute without Tremaine is probably a bad idea, especially after Taylor’s talk with me. At least I’d given something to the Blackcoats, enough to keep them satisfied that I’m doing my job for them—but if I’m going to be meeting Hideo tomorrow, any extra info I find on Sasuke will need to happen tonight.

I’m running out of time.

* * *

* * *

I DON’T LEAVE my hotel through the front door. If Jax is watching me tonight, she’ll expect me to go through main entrance. So instead, I pull out my old cable launcher from my backpack, hook the end onto the balcony railing, then climb over the ledge and leap off.

Wind whips my hair up in a stream, but from the outside, no one can see more than a rippling shadow moving along the side of the complex. I squint, shivering in the cold as the cable launcher carries me down, jerking to a halt less than a story from the ground.

I release the cable and let myself fall with a soft thud. Then I toss down my board and head in the direction of the institute.

For the first time in a while, I head down into the first subway train I can find. They’re still congested at this hour of the night. Salarymen exasperated with all the festivities slowing down their travels jostle past me without sparing so much as a glance, while groups of eager fans clog the trains, each trying to get to some party or Warcross street game happening in the city. Ramen stalls and bakeries lining the station interiors are all still packed, while high-end stores bustle with customers, everyone looking for limited-edition championship purses and belts and shoes that will all go away once the Warcross season ends. Alongside the advertisements covering the walls of the station are the virtual figures of two more top players chosen for the closing ceremony.

ABENI LEA of KENYA | TITANS

TREY KAILEO of USA | WINTER DRAGONS

I hold my breath and let myself get lost in the fray, hoping that no one recognizes me through my disguises when we’re all pressed together in the trains. I ride a few different subway lines until I feel like I can’t even find myself in the midst of all the bodies. If Jax still manages to catch up with me, it’ll hopefully take her long enough to give me some time to check out the institute on my own.

Half an hour later, I emerge into the darker, quieter residential streets beyond the outskirts of Tokyo. Here, the virtual overlays diminish into little more than building names in subtle white letters—Curry House, Bakery, Laundry—and the block number I’m currently on, then rows and rows of nondescript house labels. Apartments 14-5-3. Apartments 16-6-2.

My board streaks silently through the roads until the homes come to an abrupt end. A solid stone wall wraps around the next block, ending in a security window and a lowered barrier gate. I pull to a stop in front of it. There, looming past an expanse of lawn and fountains, is a large office complex, its main atrium made entirely of glass.

My gaze stops on the words engraved into the slab of stone just beyond the barrier gate, the same one that Tremaine had shown me in his photo.

JAPAN INNOVATION INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY

The parking lot isn’t empty. I see a few black cars here, parked in one corner.

My hackles rise at the sight. It’s entirely possible that some people are just working late—but something about the cars reminds me of the one I’d ridden in with Jax when she’d first taken me to the Blackcoats. Maybe Tremaine is here, too. At the thought of him, I do another quick scan of my messages. He’s still online, but he hasn’t answered me yet.

I hesitate for another second before I finally pull my hood on tighter, switch my randomized facial features to a new set, and squeeze past the car barrier.

The main entrance is locked, of course. From the outside, it’s hard to make out exactly what’s past the all-glass front atrium—but it soars at least three to four floors high, and some kind of dim gradient of colored light is sweeping around inside, from top to bottom. The entire building looks shut down for the night. I glance back at the cars, considering, and then wander away from the main entrance to follow the building’s wall.

I make my way around the entire complex, looking for a good way in, but everything seems locked down, with no security faults anywhere. I huddle down near a clump of bushes on the side of the main building and bring up Tremaine’s maps again, hoping to see some security vulnerability I might have missed. Then I run a search on whether the complex has any online system that I can worm into. Once, I’d broken into a closed Manhattan boutique by getting past its security cameras’ simplistic passwords. But here, I find no weaknesses.

What good was coming here if I can’t even get inside? I sigh, then poke around the perimeter of the building a second time, looking for what clues I can gather. There are several different buildings connected here: a physics wing, a neuroinformatics wing, a research resources tech center, and several cafés. None of this is new info—I’d seen all of this in my online research on the institute.

I’m about to call it a night when I suddenly hear the faint sound of footsteps.

Ahead of me, one of the side entrance’s glass doors slides open—and Jax steps out. She glances over her shoulder for an instant, and her gaze sweeps over the campus.

I duck below the bushes surrounding the building. My mind stumbles frantically from one possibility to another, each thought as rapid as my heartbeat. What the hell is she doing in here? Who is she with?

Jax probably didn’t travel here alone. She’s a bodyguard and an assassin, which means she’s either here guarding Zero or Taylor, or she’s here on a mission to cop someone. I count to three under my breath, then dare to peek around the side of the bushes.

Several guards have emerged from the building to join her. They’re dressed in black, too, and I wonder for a moment if any of them are the same people who’d watched me duel Zero in the Dark World. Maybe they’re the type of low-level goons you’d hire out of the Kabukichō area in Shinjuku.

Jax exchanges a few terse words with them, then heads off toward the far side of the complex at a brisk pace. A couple of the guards follow her, while two others start heading back into the door.

I move before I can think everything through. Shoulders hunched; eyes forward. I sneak along the bushes like a shadow, as quickly and silently as I can toward the open door. As the last guard disappears inside the door and it starts to close, I dart forward. I slide into the building’s dark interior without a sound, right as the door slides closed.

Immediately, I slip into the closest hidden crevice I can find—a row of tall recycle bins. But the guards have already disappeared down the hall. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and lean my head back against the wall, then pull down my mask so I can take in some deep gasps of air. A sheen of cold sweat covers my entire body.

In my next life, I’m going to be an accountant.

Farther down the hall, the guards’ footsteps grow steadily fainter. I wait until it’s completely silent before I pick myself up and move forward.