Rain drizzled steadily over Tokyo’s skyline, tapping against the glass of the nondescript hideout where Nine sat hunched over his laptop. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned streams of encrypted data. He was in the middle of dismantling another government firewall—routine work, until it wasn’t.

The screen blinked.

::incoming override:: ::trace interrupted:: ::ZERO::

His fingers froze over the keys. The override was clean, silent—and far more sophisticated than anything Five had ever thrown at him. Then, a final message:

“Long time, Nine.” —Zero.

His pulse skipped. No. It couldn’t be. They said she died in the facility, like the others. But if this was real—if Zero was alive—it changed everything.

He quickly decrypted the IP bounce. The signal was masked through dozens of proxies, but he found the root: a location tucked between Tokyo’s edge and the old subway ruins. He didn’t tell Twelve. Not yet.

The tunnel was silent. Damp. The lights flickered faintly as Nine approached, gun holstered, phone in hand. She was already waiting.

She stood in the dim corridor, face shadowed beneath a hood. Her left eye was covered by a black eyepatch, and her posture was loose but defensive. A quiet kind of power radiated from her—fragile, but dangerous. Like a bomb that hadn’t decided whether to go off or not.

“You’re really alive,” Nine murmured.

Zero pulled down her hood. “So are you.”

Silence.

“They lied. Said you didn’t make it,” he added.

“They lied a lot.” Her voice was quiet but resolute. “I ran. Before they could use me.”

Nine’s eyes flicked to her eyepatch. “The pill… it did something to you.”

“Enhanced cognition, electromagnetic interference, visual compression. I can see frequencies no one else can.” She turned her head. “But it eats at me. The stronger it gets, the weaker I feel.”

Nine clenched his jaw. “Why reveal yourself now?”

Zero stepped forward, the shadows outlining her gaunt but determined face. “Because Five was nothing. You need more than clever bombs and riddles. You need me if you’re going to finish this.”

He said nothing, but the conflict in his eyes was obvious. She wasn’t an ally. Not yet. But she wasn’t an enemy either.

“I’m not here for sympathy,” she added, gaze unwavering. “Just… don’t make me your enemy, Nine.”

She turned to walk away.

“Wait.”

She stopped.

“…Welcome back, Zero.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips. "Don't blink, Nine. I might disappear again."