On the conference room table, the telephoto lens photographs showed frozen mechanical silhouettes: 90 B1 droids, perfectly lined up before Aurélien's armored convoy, motionless at the entrance to the Takagi estate. The sun was slowly setting, casting sharp shadows on the pavement, as if the army itself refused to move without a direct order.
Yuriko Takagi analyzed the images under the dim light. Her gaze was cold, clear. She disliked gratuitous displays of force. But here, there was neither chaos nor bravado. Only a restrained tension, almost ceremonial. Aurélien Yamamoto wasn't trying to impress. He was stating a fact: he had the means to be autonomous.
"The convoy is still waiting. No movement since this morning's negotiations. He's keeping his word," a guard announced, his tone measured.
Soichiro turned away from the window. His voice, deep and authoritative, cut through the air: "Very well. Bring in the young ones."
Moments later, the doors slid open. Saya, Takashi, Rei, and Kohta Hirano entered the room. They still carried the fatigue of the journey, but also something else — a mix of respect, uncertainty… and barely concealed admiration.
They had fought alongside him. They had seen Aurélien act, command, decide who would live — and how.
Yuriko, upright and composed, clasped her hands on the table.
"You've been close to him. This Yamamoto — we must decide how to deal with him. Be honest."
Silence.
Then Saya straightened, arms crossed. She was the first to speak, as expected.
"He's brilliant. Maybe too much. He sees things we miss. He reads social structures, weaknesses, deviations… like an engineer reads a blueprint. He doesn't need authority to command: others follow him because he delivers results. He claims to belong to an old organization devoted to the 'technological advancement of humanity.' And I believe him. His gadgets, his droids, his drones… These aren't toys — they're instruments of war."
Soichiro narrowed his eyes. He knew his daughter well. He recognized that tone: she respected this man. And that kind of respect, coming from Saya, was never given lightly.
Takashi followed, visibly more reserved:
"He's cold, but he protects. He acts when we hesitate. He's saved people, even if sometimes it feels like it's secondary for him."
"Is he dangerous?" Yuriko asked.
Takashi hesitated, then slowly nodded.
"Yes. But not to us. Not unless we become an obstacle."
Kohta jumped in, passionate, his eyes shining:
"He's a tactical genius. We survived the early days of the apocalypse thanks to him. And above all, he takes action! He treated me like an equal, like a soldier — not a kid. To me, he's a brother-in-arms."
The words rang true, and Soichiro gave a nearly imperceptible nod, noting the psychological impact Aurélien had already made on those around him.
Then Rei, who had stayed in the background, spoke softly. "He often stayed apart… except with Saeko. They shared something… an understanding, a common violence. They entered combat like one enters a trance. It was almost… unsettling."
Silence fell over the room. Yuriko slowly stood, her hands joined behind her back, and walked to the window. The evening breeze rustled the maple leaves. A thought was forming in her mind.
"He's not seeking a place within our walls. He's seeking an exchange. A recognition. He's not here for our acceptance… but to make it clear that he's already a force in the new order."
Soichiro stood as well. His gaze was hard, fixed on the strategic map on the wall.
"He will never be a subordinate. And we can't treat him as one. He's building his own network, his own organization. He's not a pawn. He's a player."
"And if his choices lead us into a war we never wanted?" Saya asked, tension in her voice.
"Then we'll have answers ready. But it's better to negotiate with an intelligent wolf… than to wait for him to break down the door," her father replied.
Yuriko slowly nodded. Her gaze returned to the table.
"Let him in. Not as a guest. Not as a rival, either. As an equal. If he thinks we're weak, he'll crush us. But if he sees our strength, he'll respect us. And maybe… he'll listen."
Soichiro gave the orders. A sentinel left the room without a word.
Soon, Aurélien Yamamoto would be received once more. No longer as a brilliant survivor, nor as a student lost in the chaos of war—
—but as an independent force. An emerging power. And a player in the ruthless political game of the new world.