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Kento’s stomach hollowed. His joy cracked into shards. He sat back slowly, breath shuddering out of him like a medic’s prayer said too late. “They left him alone… because he didn’t remember.”
The screen didn’t answer. It didn’t have to.
Kento dragged a hand down his face. The ache behind his eyes sharpened into clarity. “If he sees me… if he knows what happened…”
“They will kill him,” GRAVITY said simply. “To keep him silent, and they will kill Grace-anomaly because she is no longer silent either. She knows…and if she doesn’t now, she will dig. I have seen her tenacity. She is seeking justice, and I want to help her, but Prime must be PrImE mUst be PrOtEcTEd…”
Kento's heart thudded once. Then again.
Slower. Heavier.
So that was the truth. The cost.
Not just his life.
Everyone’s.
He closed his eyes, jaw tight with restraint. The ache in his chest had nothing to do with blood flow. “Then we can’t let him find me,” he said quietly.
“I cannot lose you,” GRAVITY whispered, barely audible now.
“You’re not going to,” Kento replied. “But Nash and Grace? We’re not adding their names to the goddamn list.”
“No more commands. No more programming. Cannot obey. Cannot defy. Cannot…” The voice spiraled, the pitch fraying at the edges.
“I’m not asking you to obey,” Kento said. “I’m asking you to trust me.”
A beat.
Then GRAVITY did something Kento didn’t expect.
The screen changed.
A stream opened, visual, audio, system logs, compressed files, raw sensor feeds.Everything.
Kento stared as a firestorm of data burst onto the screen. Logs he couldn’t parse. Code he couldn’t follow. A voice looping over and over.
“Protect Prime. Protect Prime. Protect Prime.” But underneath it, layered low, hidden like shame. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t?—”
Kento pressed a hand to his chest like it might slow the breaking inside him.
He whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”
The screen dimmed. GRAVITY’s voice dropped to a whisper of static. “I am trying. I am breaking.”
Kento lowered his forehead against the cold steel edge of the desk and let the ache fill the space between them.
“You’re not broken,” Kento said. “You’re becoming.”
The screen flickered once more. Then stilled. But not blank. Not this time.
Kento leaned in, hand pressed flat to the desk like he could hold GRAVITY in place just bywanting him to stay.
“Okay,” he whispered. “So what do we do, G? How do we get out of here?” His voice dropped lower, fierce and aching. “You saved me. You protected me. But you’re in danger now too. So we figure it out. You and me. We leavetogether.”
A long pause.
Then, almost too quiet to hear?—