5.

One week!

His last words hung in the air, taunting and sinister. Gape-mouthed, I stared at the spot where he’d been, willing him back with my stunned expression.

One week—was he insane?

Earthquakes and mudslides had long since obliterated the major highways. What remained were fragmented, unmarked stretches of road that didn’t quite connect from one place to another. I needed a hovercraft. On foot, it’d take three days minimum—if I even knew the way.

Instinct urged me to run, but where? How? With Mazawa scrutinizing my every move, the lives of others teetered on a knife’s edge. Their survival depended on my compliance. I didn’t like those odds. There had to be a way out, a loophole Mazawa hadn’t foreseen.

“This way, Renata.”

A velvety male voice interrupted my escape planning. I took a breath, gathered my thoughts, and turned toward the sound.

I found myself at eye-level with the center of his chest. My gaze climbed past the gold and bronze embroidery on his black collar, over a firm jaw and high cheekbones, up to a pair of dark, almond-shaped eyes.

“I am Kei, Special Liaison to the Doctor General.”

He bowed low, then straightened so fast I swore I heard vertebrae snap into place. The title seemed to come with leniency in the grooming department, too. Instead of a regulation buzz cut, his hair—black as crow feathers—spilled past his shoulders, framing his broad, oval face like a silk curtain.

Okay, he was cute. Even if he was one of Mazawa’s goons.

Instead of leading me to the armory, Kei made a slow circuit around me, like someone appraising a piece of heavy equipment.

“I must say, your choice of weapon is fascinating.” He enunciated each word with surgical precision, producing something that resembled a smile before extending his hand. “May I?”

Like I had a choice.

Kei balanced the shaft on his palm, then flicked his wrist, spinning the naginata with surprising finesse. He tipped it from end to end, inspecting the barbed spike and bloodstained sickle blade before planting it upright between us. At full extension, the blade’s crest rose just above his head.

“Hmm. Not as heavy as I expected. And old—older than both of us put together, I’d bet.” He ran a hand along the worn shaft. “With your… smaller frame, don’t you find it unwieldy in close quarters?”

“I try to avoid those,” I said. Though for you, I might make an exception.

“Not hard enough though, eh?”

Only one of us found that amusing, although he could have mistaken my sigh for assent.

Kei retracted the weapon before handing it back. “My hovercraft is outside. This way.”

He spun on his heel, the click of his shoes sharp against the tiles. As he did, another panel whisked aside.

Light spilled in, warm and dazzling, followed by the gentle burble of running water. A white stone path wound through blooming shrubs, leading to a graceful wooden bridge. Beyond it, crimson Torii gates stood like sentinels, bracketing another walkway. The air was thick with the scent of sakura—sweet, almost syrupy.

I inhaled deeply, letting it settle on my tongue. Cloying or not, cherry blossoms were a welcome change from antiseptic sting and kufugaki stench.

But the illusion didn’t hold.

Above, a lattice of thick metal girders crisscrossed the space—an unnatural honeycomb of vast geometric forms. Between them stretched panels of glass or polymer, tinted in deep blue and green, like light seen through water. The holodome soared overhead, vast enough to swallow a city.

I raised a hand to block the glare. No real sky, just layers of projection mapped across the dome’s interior, thinning toward the upper reaches until they dissolved into haze.

Wood creaked, followed by a soft chuckle. “First time here, I take it?”

I nodded. Here, or in any holodome. Doing what I did for a living, you couldn’t just swan up to the entrance with a severed kufugaki head in a bag and expect a hero’s welcome. Officials at my home dome were so paranoid about nokuru that they wouldn’t allow bounty hunters through the gate! We had to collect our bounties at a special station outside the entrance.

He led me across the footbridge. The carved supports beneath the railings resembled doe-eyed maidens frozen in mid-swoon—except for their mouths, which gaped as if mid-scream. Unnerved, I turned my gaze to the water below.

This wasn’t how I’d pictured the holodome. I’d imagined something sterile and militarized, not this—an uncanny time capsule of a Japan that no longer existed. Serenity gardens, landscaped to perfection with camphor, azalea, and chrysanthemum, belonged to the past. No one built ornamental pools anymore, let alone stocked them with koi.

Except these weren’t koi.

I leaned over the rail, peering into the green water. The fish were too large, their coloring off.

“Catfish,” Kei said. “Raised here in our hatcheries.”

“They’re huge,” I muttered, just as my stomach growled. Fresh fish—that memory eluded me. Fresh anything. All our rations came from powdered or freeze-dried foil packets.

The scent of sakura intensified as we made our way to the Pi-shaped Torii. It opened onto an expansive stone courtyard blanketed in blossoms from the interior grove. As we entered, an artificial breeze sprang to life, stirring the petals into a fragrant storm.

Kei’s hovercraft, looking out of place in such serene surroundings, idled in front of the trees. It was a zephyr-chaser, pristine white, except for a single crimson sigil on its long nose. At first, I thought the sigil was a military ID but reconsidered after spotting the kanji symbol in the center of its blood-rayed sunburst.

“Saisei?” I turned to Kei. “Isn’t that the women’s health directive?”

A new law required all pregnant women to report to the nearest holodome for third-trimester viability testing. From there, they remained confined until delivery. If a mother lacked the means—or the will—to raise her child, the military’s foster system took over. In return for her “sacrifice,” she received a year’s worth of rations and the honorary title Saisei.

Kei beamed. “The Doctor General is partial to this word, particularly its connotations of renewal and revitalization. Long after we are gone, he says, others will remember his Saisei Era as a time of sweeping transformation.”

Transformation? Was he kidding? I knew women from Hakodate who’d obeyed Mazawa’s so-called law. No one ever saw them again.

“Where is Satoshi?” I snapped, wheeling on Kei. “I’m not going anywhere until you let me see him.”

“I can’t do that, Renata—for obvious reasons.” He tapped the back of his neck. “But I assure you, your brother is safe. He was unconscious when our patrol recovered him, but he seems to have survived the explosion unharmed, which is more than I can say for your other two friends.”

Two? Mazawa’d said the same thing! Where was Juno? Last I saw, she’d been stuck to Satoshi like a mouse on a glue trap.

A knot formed in my stomach. Had Juno betrayed us? Or had something happened to her first? Either way, her absence couldn’t be coincidental. I filed this discrepancy away, another mystery to solve when I had the chance.

“We should head to the Armory, Renata. You’re on a tight schedule.”

I clambered over the zephyr-chaser’s low side. The simplistic control panel, cramped seats, and awkward body harnesses were almost identical to the ones in Juno’s hovercraft, except she’d painted hers a dull grey.

Maybe it was just the model. Juno specialized in contraband—stolen goods, black-market weapons, anything hard to trace. Still, something about the craft bothered me. I tightened the harness and said nothing.

“Will I get my knives back? I’m quite fond of them. The big one, especially.”

“Yes, and more besides,” Kei said, his answer swallowed by laughter. “Hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

The zephyr-chaser rose swiftly, scattering fallen blossoms like fresh snow in its wake. From above the holodome, I glimpsed curved red rooftops and ornate carvings on the single-story homes below. Each looked like a snapshot from a history book. According to Kei, these belonged to high-ranking officials.

Mazawa’s three-story dwelling—more temple than residence—dominated a distant promontory like a monument to a forgotten god.

We surged forward over a broad avenue lined with rows of composite block complexes, identical in shape and color. Beyond them, a vast cultivated field unfurled—terraced in places, with water jets rising and falling in slow, precise arcs. Whatever grew there shimmered faintly, its color shifting between silver and green.

As we gained altitude, the last of the buildings slipped beneath us. The road below narrowed and forked. Structures crowded in on all sides, sprawling outward in every direction, spreading faster than the city could contain them.

Ahead, a glass-faced structure reared into view. Kei adjusted the craft as it emerged from the space between two smaller, nondescript gray buildings. The tower soared skyward, its golden tip tapering to a point that looked sharp enough to pierce the holodome’s ceiling. The sight stirred a moment’s recognition in me.

“Hey, I’ve heard of this place,” I shouted, nodding at the building’s panels, which were the green of a deep lagoon. “That’s the Spire Lab! Nokuru research central.” The body harness now threatened to slice my breasts into a mismatched trio when I shifted to get a better look. “Are they any closer to finding a cure?”

Kei raised a finger to his lips, flipped a switch on the control panel, and leaned in so close that I could feel the slightest pressure of his full lips against my ear. “They’re not. The Doctor General repurposed that building some time ago.”

“Repurposed it? Why?” Had Mazawa given up on finding a cure or moved his staff to a better location?

When Kei didn’t answer, I tried again. “So, what’s it used for now?”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t say.”

Kei eased the steering mechanism forward, merging the sound of the engine and the rush of the wind into a single roar. Until now, I hadn’t realized how fast one of these things could go.

Silence settled over us as our course dipped low across vast orchards, where plums glistened like rare jewels beneath the spray of countless irrigation jets. The sight stirred more gnawing in my stomach and a fresh wave of unease.

New Edo’s armory had to be massive, but I saw nothing that resembled one. Just row after row of food. Food as far as the eye could see. When the clouds outside the holodome swallowed the sun, I half-expected the vision to vanish.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?” I asked. “Who builds an armory out in the countryside?”

Kei threw his head back and laughed. “There’s an ancillary munitions bay at the Northwestern Paralaunch. It shares space with a maintenance hub for the solar fields. Remote, yes—but it’s the closest exit for your journey. Wouldn’t want you wasting precious time, would we?” He winked.

The drone of the engine swallowed my retort.

At last, the orchards gave way to a cluster of gray cinderblock buildings. This had to be the armory, because this was also where the holodome ended—and not in a good way.

The lattices here looked slimmer and older than those outside the detention center. Many had corroded through in places and lacked rivets. The panes between them were no better, riddled with cracks and grime.

After landing on the roof of the tallest building, Kei led me down a narrow metal staircase. At the bottom, a slim, dark-haired boy—seven or eight, by the look of him—stood waiting. An oversized mustard-colored tunic hung to his knees. He stood beside a black backpack, my knife sheath resting on top, and clutched a white box stamped with a red Saisei symbol.

“This is Squaddie Hiro, one of our Junior Corpsmen. He’ll help with your gear,” Kei said, then pointed at the box. “What’ve you got there?”

“Rations. For her,” Hiro said, glaring at me.

“You were supposed to get a soldier’s field kit,” Kei said, irritation creeping into his voice.

“But she’s no soldier,” Hiro shot back, his tone sharp as a blade.

“That’s none of your concern, Squaddie,” Kei said. When Hiro frowned defiantly, he barked, “That’s an order, Squaddie!”

With a reluctant nod, Hiro grabbed the backpack, knocking the knife sheath to the ground. He stormed off around a corner. I snatched up the sheath and strapped it on.

Nothing about this place resembled an armory. Damaged solar panels and piles of scrap metal littered a vast, high-ceilinged workroom. Along one wall, an assortment of hand tools hung in neat brackets beside a rack of small blowtorches. One of those might come in handy during this cockamamie journey. Mission. Whatever. I made a mental note to ask for one, no matter what kind of attitude the boy gave me.

Kei’s wrist device buzzed. “Ah, duty calls! Excuse me.”

In all the excitement, I’d forgotten about mine. I never left the bunker without it. “Hey, wait! Where’s mine?” I wriggled my arm at him.

“Awaiting your successful return,” he said, a sly smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Kei hurried back up the stairs, leaving me alone in the workspace. Apparently, all the solar field techs had taken the day off.

Squaddie Hiro returned a moment later, backpack slung over one shoulder. He marched me across the room without a word and pointed to a curtained anteroom near the massive loading dock doors. Inside, a pile of clothing waited in a rumpled heap.

Sorting through it didn’t take long. I found a black t-shirt and worn anorak (both were at least two sizes too big), and a pair of goggles. I slipped the goggles over my head, hoping their night vision still worked, shrugged into the anorak, and then turned to the boy.

“That’s it for gear? Seriously?”

He snatched the t-shirt, stuffed it into the pack, and all but threw it at me. “Go!”

I tipped my naginata at him. “No. The Doctor General promised food and gear—the works. I’m not leaving without them.”

A sudden rumble set the doors rattling. Thunder or a tremor? Both were common here in summer, and neither boded well for the journey I was about to take.

Squaddie Sour Face backed away, paling at the sound.

“Now, see what you’ve done? You’ve made Raijin angry! If you don’t get Special Liaison Kei back here right now, I’ll tell the thunder god to swoop down and eat you alive!”

His eyes widened. These dome-dwellers might dismiss the old ways, but fear of the kami still lingered, especially in children. Outside the domes, many clans still made offerings to Inari for good harvests and Susanoo for protection during storms. No matter how pragmatic, the Hakodate still respected the old traditions.

“You’re the one who’s going to get eaten alive,” Hiro spat, fists clenched, face flushing. “There are no gods; there is only the Doctor General.” Scowling, he stabbed at the door with his finger. “Now get out!”

Who did this little snot think he was, anyway? Too young for real soldiering, he had to be a Saisei brood mare’s discarded spawn. Taking a step forward, I brandished my weapon. “Not without what he promised me!”

Outside, the thunder clapped in hearty approval.

Hiro punched a large button with his fist. “Get out, clan trash! Get out!”

The doors whooshed open onto a landscape wrapped in gray mist. Foul vapor rose where drizzle struck dry grass and cracked earth. I paused at the threshold and studied the immense solar panels mounted on mechanical plinths. Each steel housing tilted and rotated in pursuit of sunlight. Several had already shifted upright as the storm approached. At this rate, I’d find no shelter once I stepped beyond the holodome.

I hoisted the pack and scowled. Too light. One look inside confirmed it. I didn't have enough supplies for two days, never mind a week. There was no first aid kit, no weapons beyond my knives, and no water filter. So much for Mazawa’s promise of “everything you’ll need.”

The gap between his words and the reality before me felt intentional. Another test.

Or maybe he never meant for me to survive.

Hopefully, that snot-nosed punk had packed something edible. Nothing grew around the solar panels or along the utility access roads. The soil had crusted over in places, pale and cracked, as if stripped of life. A few shriveled stems jutted from the ground near the edges, but even those looked poisoned. Whatever they used here, it worked. No leaves, no insects, no color. Just the dry, silent sprawl of a system that didn’t tolerate interruption.

Still, as Kei said, this was the fastest route. One way or another, I’d find what I needed. With only a week to do it, I couldn’t afford to waste time.

I launched myself into the mist.