Aurora, Sage, Kilo, and Nyota stepped into the central precinct courthouse, flanked by RSAA agents. Their footsteps echoed against polished marble floors, the weight of formality thick in the air. Towering columns lined the grand foyer, each engraved with Lunanova's judicial insignia.
Above them, a vaulted ceiling loomed, its geometric patterns casting shifting shadows under the chandeliers' glow. Mahogany paneling and steel accents framed the walls, exuding authority and control.
Their escort led them down a long, austere corridor. Stern-faced officers stood at attention outside each door, their silent presence suffocating. The only sound was the rhythmic march of their group. At the corridor's end, a pair of towering doors swung open, revealing the vast courtroom beyond.
The space was a coliseum of judgment, its ceiling stretching impossibly high, upheld by reinforced beams that exuded quiet dominance. Artistic panels lined the walls, depicting history and cautionary tales alike. At the far end, a raised platform housed a panel of ten judges, their faces unreadable. Their attire mirrored that of EPSA and RSAA agents but carried an air of refined distinction.
RSAA agents positioned Nyota, Sage, Kilo, and Aurora at separate stands, each isolated yet fully exposed to the judicial panel. Standing before them, hands clasped behind his back, was Elwin—his smirk only adding to the oppressive atmosphere.
But what truly unsettled them—what sent a ripple of shock through the four—was Noriko.
She sat at the center of the panel, poised and composed, her legs crossed in a calculated display of control. Sharp, unreadable eyes rested on them like a predator watching its prey, revealing nothing yet suggesting everything. Her presence had been unexpected—but should it have been?
The courtroom held no public spectators, only a handful of relevant officers and military officials, their presence reinforcing the weight of the proceedings.
"All rise!" Elwin's voice rang out.
The room moved as one—spies, assassins, and judges alike—rising in rigid synchronization. Only Noriko remained seated.
After a pause, Elwin gave a curt nod, and the room settled, pews creaking under the collective shift.
Nyota kept his gaze forward, feeling the weight of the moment pressing in from all sides.
Elwin finally broke the silence, his tone light, almost amused. "Shall we begin?"
A judge, an older man with a face carved from stone, adjusted his glasses and glanced at the document before him. "State your names for the record."
One by one, they complied.
Sage's voice was steady. Aurora's firm. Kilo's carried a slight edge of defiance. Nyota gave nothing extra.
The questioning began methodically—identity, affiliations, residence—before inevitably shifting to why they were here.
"The night of the Blueport factory incident," Elwin's voice cut through the silence, "saw the destruction of two government-sanctioned facilities. Coincidentally, Lieutenant Aurora Steele led a team into the area for an 'unspecified mission.' Tell me, Lieutenant—where were you at the time of the explosions?"
Aurora, poised and unshaken, glanced at her companions before addressing the panel. "Esteemed council, my team and I were conducting a mission unrelated to the factories. We had no prior knowledge of any plans to target them."
"That much is clear," another judge said. "What was this 'mission,' and why does it remain unspecified?"
"We were gathering intelligence in a different sector, far from the explosion sites."
"Intel for what?"
"A meeting with a craftsman regarding a commissioned project." Aurora's answer was smooth, unwavering. "An independent metalsmith with specialized knowledge."
A brief pause. The judges exchanged subtle glances. Elwin's smirk twitched.
"And this craftsman's name?"
She answered without hesitation.
The illusion settled. Nyota felt Elwin watching too closely, waiting for the first fracture.
The questioning continued—times, locations, details. The group held their ground, their alibi precise.
Then, Elwin shifted gears. "Let's talk about the protest downtown." His gaze landed on Sage. "Where exactly were you during the demonstration?"
Sage remained composed. "We weren't involved. We had other business that day—private business."
Elwin hummed. "Private, huh?" He paced leisurely. "That's funny. Reports indicate a patrol unit was found not far from the riot—near the very skyscraper with the hijacked billboard. Care to explain?"
Nyota tensed. The vehicle in question was the same one he'd picked Kai up in from Polaris Academy. When the protest turned into chaos, they'd fled in another patrol unit—the one Aurora and the Hikari brothers had parked some distance away.
Aurora started to interject. "If I may—"
"The Sergeant Major was speaking to the Hikari boy," a judge interrupted. "You are not to speak unless asked."
Aurora, Nyota, and Kilo exchanged glances but remained silent. Sage answered without hesitation. "I'm not sure what to tell you, sir. We had nothing to do with that patrol unit."
Elwin's smirk widened. "Oh, I think you do. Because here's the thing—this wasn't just any patrol unit. It wasn't logged in any registry, no active assignment, no trace of a requisition form. So, if you weren't at the protest, how do you explain an unregistered patrol vehicle—one of ours—abandoned near the scene?"
Nyota forced himself to relax. The unit he and Kai had used was unregistered. Aurora had pulled strings to obtain it, ensuring it couldn't be traced back to them.
Sage exhaled through his nose, choosing his words carefully. "With all due respect, Sergeant Major, you're making an assumption. Just because an unregistered patrol unit was found near the scene doesn't mean we had anything to do with it."
Elwin's tone remained playful, but his eyes sharpened. "That's a great deflection, Hikari, really. But let's not get ahead of ourselves." He gestured vaguely at the panel. "You four had access to official transport, didn't you? And I'm sure you know that when a patrol unit goes unaccounted for, it's a big problem. You wouldn't happen to know how one of ours conveniently ended up where it did?"
Sage held firm. "I can't speak for whoever used it, but if we had been anywhere near the protest, wouldn't there be footage of us?"
Elwin sneered. "How convenient. I suppose it's true—the vehicle wasn't registered under your names. I'm sure you understand the concern."
"Of course."
Elwin resumed his slow pacing. "Your answers have been... inconsistent, but I'll admit, you're holding up better than I expected." He stopped, turning back to them with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But there's still one more thing—the elephant in the room."
He let the silence linger before continuing.
"The hijacked billboard. The one plastered across that skyscraper downtown. It bore that peculiar Z insignia—the same symbol found after the Blueport incident. And, of course, the message: 'Big Sister is watching, but we just changed the channel.'" He cocked his head. "So, tell me—who's Big Sister?"
Nyota scanned the judges, careful not to linger on any one face. When his gaze finally settled, it was on Noriko. She had been staring right at him. The sharp, knowing look in her eyes sent a chill through him.
Elwin pressed on. "We had a lovely little chat with Malcolm Soren, the union rep."
Aurora's fingers curled against the edge of her podium.
Elwin's grin widened. "Turns out he wasn't too happy about being abandoned by your little—what should I call it? Movement? Cult, maybe? No, that's not quite right—ah, yes! Circus."
The weight in the room shifted. Their alibi had held up—until now. Malcolm wasn't supposed to have given up the letter. They had assumed he had no reason to. But now, it was clear he had.
"To Malcolm Soren," Elwin quoted, his voice laced with mockery. "We believe that your efforts, while noble, deserve a larger platform. It is for this reason that we wish to offer our support. Our intent is to amplify the voices of those who have been ignored. On the day of the protest, you will witness our involvement.
Do not share this letter or its contents with anyone else. You may recognize our actions from events in Blueport a month ago. Know that we share a common cause.
We. Are. Zteel."
Elwin stopped sharply and turned to face them. "Zteel. Strange… Who exactly is Zteel?" His gaze settled on Nyota as he stepped closer to his podium.
Nyota, still shaken by Noriko's piercing stare, felt his pulse quicken. Sage, Aurora, and Kilo turned to him, but he didn't dare meet their eyes. He could feel the scrutiny tightening around them like a noose. The judges weren't speaking, but they were watching. Waiting.
Elwin tilted his head, savoring the moment. "Tell me, Atar." His grin stretched wide, predatory. "Still think you had 'nothing to do with it'?"
Nyota said nothing. Panic clawed at his thoughts, but he had no answer. His mind raced—to the weight of Noriko's stare, as if she already knew the truth and was simply waiting for him to confirm it. To Elwin's grin, too wide, like a predator toying with cornered prey. To the unregistered patrol unit—left behind, an exposed thread that shouldn't have existed, regardless of whether it tied directly to them.
"Warrant Officer Atar."
His thoughts spiraled—to the letter. The one Malcolm was never supposed to reveal. The one they had been sure would stay buried.
"Warrant Officer Atar!"
Had Malcolm said their names? Was Elwin about to recite them for the entire courtroom? Had they already lost, and he just hadn't realized it yet?
"Atar!"
A judge's voice cut through the fog, sharper this time. Nyota blinked, snapping back to the present.
"I believe the Sergeant Major asked you a question."
His hands were clenched against the podium. He forced his fingers to uncurl before returning Elwin's gaze.
A breath. A choice.
He shook his head, slowly.
"I don't know."
Elwin's smirk faltered, just slightly. The courtroom remained silent, but the weight of expectation pressed down like an unspoken demand.
"You don't know?" Elwin echoed, feigning amusement. "That's not a very convincing answer."
Nyota met his gaze, steady now. "It's the only one I have." Then, evenly—
"Look—if you're asking me to confirm something, I can't."
Elwin's smirk twitched again. "Can't?" he repeated, voice light, taunting. "Or won't?"
Nyota didn't blink. "Whichever suits what you want to hear."
Aurora, Sage, and Kilo remained motionless, hoping the answer was enough.
Noriko smiled.
Elwin sneered, letting the silence stretch before sighing theatrically. He turned back toward the panel of judges, voice almost flippant. "Well, I think that about wraps up our questions, don't you? I suppose the Director will make her ruling." A glance toward Noriko. "Director?"
All eyes shifted to her.
Noriko, unmoved throughout the proceedings, exhaled—slow, measured. Her fingers tapped once against the armrest.
Then, without inflection, she said, "Let them go."
Elwin blinked. His smirk faltered. "But, Director—"
She didn't look at him. Her hand came to rest against her temple, dismissing him like a fleeting irritation.
"I said let them go."
No hesitation. No elaboration.
Elwin's jaw tensed, but he didn't argue. The judges exchanged uncertain glances, but no one challenged the order.
"As you wish."
Just like that, it was over.
Nyota and the others didn't move at first, bracing for the inevitable reversal—a last-second command, an unseen hand barring the exit.
But none came.
Aurora took the lead. "Thank you, Director. Esteemed council."
Slowly, deliberately, they turned and walked out. Unchallenged. But not unnoticed.
Noriko knew. That much was clear.
So why had she let them go?
And more importantly—what came next?
They left in silence, the weight of the trial still pressing against their backs. It wasn't until they were a safe distance from the courthouse that Kilo let out a sharp exhale.
"I thought for sure we were dead in there." He ran a hand through his hair, tension still coiled tight beneath his skin. "Elwin had us locked in, and then boom—just like that, she lets us go? Doesn't sit right."
Sage folded his arms, unreadable. "It's not meant to. If there's one thing I know about Noriko, it's that she doesn't give favors."
Aurora sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "She's not stupid." Matter-of-fact, but wary. "All she did was buy us time. We'll lay low for a while—less execution, more planning. And for the love of everything, let's keep looking alive."
Nyota remained quiet, lost in the churn of his own thoughts. He had felt it—that precise moment when Noriko decided to let them go. It wasn't mercy. It wasn't hesitation.
She was calculating. And that meant they had to be, too.
Because if Noriko was waiting, she had a reason. And if she had a reason, they had an opening.
They weren't out of the fire.
But they had a chance to start their own.
--
"I just don't understand, Director. We know it's them! There's no need to keep them around.
Why not just let me take matters into my own hands?
Please, Director—let me handle it—"
"Can you shut up?!"
Noriko's voice cut through the air, sharp and exasperated. She didn't even look at him as she strode ahead, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "Like, actually, shut up. All you do is talk, talk, talk." She let out a halfhearted chuckle, one devoid of humor. "Those questions you asked during the trial? They weren't even the least bit insightful."
She turned to face him now, her expression edged with irritation. "I know exactly who Zteel is. We've known for a while. But I made a deal. Need I remind you?"
Elwin's jaw tightened. "Orion."
"Yes!" Noriko threw up her hands. "Orion." She exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face before continuing, her voice lowering but no less intense. "I fear no one. But the reports I've read? The briefings from our military spies about that town?" She shook her head. "He can't be normal."
She turned away again, her pace brisk. "I've already Silas on the case. I've directed Malik to do the same. All that's left for you to do is…" She waved a hand vaguely, searching for the right words before settling on a dismissive, "Humor yourself with something else. Please."
She stopped at the exit, casting a final glance over her shoulder. "I don't need to explain myself to you. It's my business and mine alone."
With that, she pushed through the courthouse doors, leaving Elwin standing in the echo of her irritation.