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His senses blared in warning around this man.
He couldn’t be older than twenty , Ishiro thought, observing the other man’s appearance. He was tall, lithe, and a bit on the slender side, with deceivingly simple clothes that seemed to exude wealth .
Ishiro exhaled from his nose in irritation. He hated rich people like him.
Yet… Ishiro turned his attention back to his face. A confident grin, perfect, yet bright with child-like naivety. The toy-like gun was just centimeters from his face, unfazed and unmoving.
“I’ve fallen for you!”
This man was dangerous , Ishiro thought.
An ordinary man wouldn’t hold a gun to someone’s forehead with such unshaking confidence. Much less a self-crafted one.
Ishiro slowly dusted himself off and let himself be led deeper into the halls, followed by the heavy footsteps of the… alien . They chattered, but his mind couldn’t quite pick up on them. Something about… curry?
But even if this man turned out to be okay, if not questionably strange in the head, Ishiro’s senses continued to tingle in warning. Danger , it told him.
Nevermind the cheerful alien—Boondorio Bunderas, as it—he cheerfully introduced. His eyes were glued to the other man, keeping his blank except for the slight irritation at having his plan be so thoroughly thwarted by a simple trick.
The little… base. A secret hide-out, so to speak, was impressive to say the least. The fact that two people, albeit one being an alien, built more-than life-sized vehicles was a feat in it of itself. The machinations and the programming… Ishiro’s hands itched to understand more.
A part of him was charmed by the view: colorful cars like the toys lining the stores—but those ideas were foreign, just as his childhood was to toys. They were things to scoff and catch glimpses of through the windows of stores, not to be held and played in his nonexistent free time. He was more familiar with hooks and other sorts of weapons.
But this, he reminded himself, was also a form of a weapon.
The vehicles. The gun. They were all capable of something that could be dangerous to the city, if not the country. Yet, Ishiro found himself doubting that the other man would try such a thing.
The man was bright, almost child-like and carefree, a polar opposite to the boy in the file.
Hando Taiya , the file wrote. An old grainy picture of the man, still a boy, and a myriad of personal information that was hardly of use.
Ishiro focused more on the image: dark eyes, as though absorbing any form of light. His face was one that Ishiro had seen a million times, but didn’t match on a youthful visage, except…
Except… himself .
A look of knowledge that could only come from an understanding of the shadows of the world. Ishiro knew those eyes too well, yet the man in front of him seemed to mask any and all forms of shadows and darkness. He seemed to only exude light, almost like a beacon.
Hando Taiya was filled with child-like wonder, with the genius that could hardly be competed with. His smile was infectious, and Ishiro’s lips struggled to stay flat.
Bright, almost starlit eyes that glinted red under the lights; a smile that seemed so light and carefree. Ishiro envied the way he carried himself. He envied the wealth, the happiness, and so much more…
This man was dangerous, yes, but so was Ishiro. That would usually be enough for mistrust to form, but Ishiro found himself charmed, even if he would never admit it.
Hando Taiya was a topic of intrigue. Ishiro wanted to hate him—wanted to scrutinize him, but for the first time in his life, his heart seemed to say something otherwise.
Ishiro wanted to see how far he would go, and he wanted to see it from the best seat.
Right next to him .