Haruka pressed her cheek against the glass doors. Inside it was dark, apart from a few flickering lights. She could see her grandfather sitting there, exactly as she remembered him, his back slightly curved, hands resting loosely on the keyboard, his head drooping forward as if he might fall into the screen at any moment.

Just then the windows began to tremble softly. Haruka startled and pulled her head back quickly. A faint, greasy imprint of her cheek remained on the glass.

“Don’t be alarmed, it’s just a few small tremors,” said her mother, catching her as she stumbled backward in surprise. The doors, which normally slid open on their own, her mother pushed open with some effort.

Haruka squeezed her small body through and stormed toward her grandfather.

“Hey, ojiisan, hello! Wake up, sleepyhead!” she called, jumping up and down to see over the counter.

“Hey Haruka, lovely to see you again!” her grandfather said with a smile, easing himself out of his chair with some difficulty.

She puffed out her cheeks and put her hands on her hips. “Well ojiisan, if you really mean that, you could always come and visit us for a change,” she teased.

“Haruka…” He looked away for a moment, scratched the back of his head, and frowned. “You know that’s not so easy.”

She burst out laughing and hugged her grandfather, who lovingly stroked her jet-black hair.

“Have you been called up again?” her grandfather asked, turning his attention to his daughter.

“Yes, it’s getting very close to Tokyo now,” she answered, and kissed her father on the cheek. With a worried look she glanced past him, toward the dark corridors of the museum lit only by the last of the daylight. “Is the backup generator I gave you not working anymore?”

“Three, two, one…” her grandfather said, counting down and pointing at the lights. “Well, we old ones sometimes have a few startup problems.”

His daughter handed him a backpack. “It’s only for a little while.”

“Ah, that little one I can handle just fine,” her grandfather said, straightening his back with pride.

His daughter looked around. “That little one has already been gone for a while.”

“Make sure that husband of yours doesn’t do anything too reckless,” he said softly, pulling her into a firm embrace.

“Well, pa…” She bit her lip and turned her wedding ring nervously between her fingers. “Please be careful yourself too.”

“Go now,” her father urged, squeezing her shoulder. “My expiry date passed long ago.”

“Are you coming back soon?” asked Haruka, suddenly reappearing and jumping on her mother from behind.

“Ah, I thought you’d already forgotten about me, among all the beautiful things in here.”

“Forgotten things, more like,” said her grandfather, giving Haruka’s cheek a gentle pinch. “She’s the only visitor today who’s still interested in dusty garments, broken jugs, and coins behind glass.”

“Ojiisan, can you actually just leave the entrance like this?” Haruka asked, having just said goodbye to her mother and now walking hand in hand with him toward the library wing.

“These days barely anyone comes anymore. It’s become nothing more than a storage facility ever since people started reliving the past in full color through simulations.”

Along the way her grandfather pulled a few books from the shelves they passed, stories that had always fascinated him. He smiled when he realized he recognized something of himself in her.

Haruka looked up with a questioning expression when he held out the carefully chosen books. His smile disappeared, however, when she shook her head and pointed to a small cushion on the floor. He followed her and lowered himself down beside it with a sigh.

He watched with raised eyebrows as she showed him the books she had already collected in the short time she had been away from her mother, mathematics, biology, a chemistry book full of complex formulas, and the first one she opened appeared to be about programming.

He sighed deeply, surprised at how disciplined she seemed to throw herself into such dry material.

“Young lady, do you realize that programming is outdated? Artificial intelligence does all the work these days. And the language you’re studying now hasn’t been used in years.”

Haruka looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “This is my secret language,” she said.

Her grandfather laughed. “You really are something special. Have you ever actually worked with it?”

She shook her head. “No, my parents won’t allow it. Too expensive.”

He nodded in understanding. “If you find these kinds of old things interesting, you might also be interested in old trinkets.”

“Ojiisan, what do you mean by trinkets?” she asked curiously.

“Little keepsakes from the past, things that might not hold much value these days, but for a practiced eye like yours are absolutely priceless.”

She closed her book and stared at her grandfather with her mouth open.

“It seems I finally have your attention.” He picked up the backpack his daughter had given him and held it out. “Put your book in. No one will notice if you take it,” he whispered, with his finger to his lips.

He led her to another part of the museum where display cases stood full of long-forgotten accessories from the past. “Here we have a telephone that people used to make calls with, and this little device was called a camera, you could use it to record moving images.” He opened one of the display cases and took out a small box. “But look, this little thing is truly special.”

Her eyes grew wide as she ran her fingers over the letters reading Personal Assistant VI. “This is just an old computer!”

“Well, not quite,” he explained, tapping the box. “All that secret language of yours led to this small device. It was an assistant that everyone used to carry with them. Later it was banned and modified so it couldn’t do everything anymore. Compared to the artificial intelligence we use today it’s fairly simple. But with the right support it has the potential to surpass all of them.” He slipped the box into her backpack and secured it firmly on her back. “Is it too heavy?”

She shook her head and pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, ojiisan!”

“Now, now, not so fast. This one is broken and has been rendered essentially harmless. But I’m quite sure a bright spark like you will know what to do with it.”

Just as he was about to close the zipper, the entire building shook with a deafening sound. Loud explosions rang out all around them, bringing sections of the ceiling crashing down. Haruka ducked in fright. A chunk of debris the size of a dining table came straight at her. The concrete grazed his shoulder as her grandfather shoved her out of the path of the falling rubble. The display case they stumbled into shattered, and the model trains inside it rained down on them. An extraordinary surge of primal strength rose in him, pushing away all his aches and pains. He lifted Haruka from the ground and ran with her through the far too long corridors. Haruka began coughing in the thick cloud of dust that rose around them. The floor-to-ceiling glass windows burst apart and rained down on them. Shards of glass cut him from every direction as he tried to shield her with his body. Through bold leaps, short sprints, and a generous measure of luck, he found the staircase leading downward.

“Ojiisan, my eye hurts,” his granddaughter said softly, gasping for breath.

“We’re almost there, hold on just a little longer.”

As they descended the final staircase, the air finally began to clear. The climate control system, designed specifically to keep the space at the perfect temperature, made a creaking sound as it worked overtime. He laid Haruka gently down on a pile of carefully wrapped paintings. At the sight of her injured eye he recoiled in alarm.

“Ojiisan,” she coughed, “what happened?”

“No, nothing serious, sweetheart. I’ll make sure everything is all right.”

He searched hurriedly for a first aid box hanging at the abandoned guardpost. With a small syringe he administered a sedative to her neck, then carefully removed a piece of glass from her eye. He had barely finished bandaging it when another heavy blow struck. A piece of steel resembling an aircraft rotor drove itself deep into the wall. The path it tore through the room cut mercilessly through stacked crates and reduced generations-old statues to rubble.

The ventilation unit caught fire and set the artworks beneath it ablaze. From the sprinkler system, only a single droplet trickled out. The smoke and flames spread quickly. Her grandfather’s calm broke. He stuffed the bandaging material into his pockets and hurried back to the guardpost with Haruka in his arms. There he tore open a ventilation grille and crawled inside urgently, the heat from the fire melting the soles of his shoes.

Haruka woke with a dry throat and a heavy head. She felt cold air on her skin and everything was dusty. When she tried to open her eyes, a sharp pain shot through her head. One eye stayed sealed shut, throbbing painfully. She carefully touched the thick layer of bandaging wound around her head. She reached for the glass of water beside her, nearly knocked it over, but caught it just in time. Her bone-dry throat cleared instantly as she drank it down. Her face contorted at the bitter taste, but the pain and dizziness disappeared at once. She looked down at her battered clothing and the many pieces of bandaging covering her. Her gaze moved across the countless cracks running from the floor to the ceiling. Power cables hung down above her and several ceiling panels had collapsed. The brilliant white room resembled an operating theater, with only the bed in the middle on which she lay. Numerous stools, lamps, and pieces of equipment had toppled over, and the contents of the upper cabinets were scattered across the floor.

Her head turned sharply in response to an enormous thud that seemed to come from outside. The two steel doors sealing the room flew open and a thick cloud of smoke poured in. In the middle of that cloud appeared the silhouette of a man holding a large tool chest. He pulled off his gas mask and struck the control panel beside him with force, causing the doors to slam shut.

“Ojiisan, is that you?” Haruka asked from beneath the covers.

“Yes, it is.”

“Where are we, ojiisan?”

“Safe, in an old and long-forgotten military bunker beneath the museum. But little one, I’m afraid the war has now reached us too.”

“What about pa and mama?”

“They’ll be back before you know it.”

A wave of fear and grief washed over Haruka as she stared at her feet, wondering whether her parents were safe. Despite the overwhelming smell of smoke and sweat she held her grandfather tightly when he came to sit beside her. She pulled her fingers back in shock when she touched his sticky shirt. The grey patches beneath the ash and grit were no ordinary dirt. As she rubbed the sticky substance between her fingers and noticed the hidden deep red color, she knew for certain. It was blood.

“Nothing to worry about, Haruka,” he said reassuringly when he saw her wide eye fixed on him.

He kissed her forehead and reached for her backpack. When he handed her the small white box he had put inside it earlier, she blinked. Her attention was immediately drawn to his creased forehead and singed hair, which looked anything but good. She decided not to push further and turned her attention to what she had been given. With some care she opened it and discovered an egg-shaped device no bigger than her palm. It began to hum the moment she picked it up.

“My name is Bro Bro Bro Bro Tam ah.”

“Ah, I can’t understand a word of it…”

“Adapting language… Japanese recognized.”

With her thumb she wiped the dust from the display, making letters and numbers visible.

“Device name:… data unavailable…”

“Bro Tamah?”

“Bro Tamah registered. User name?”

“Haruka.”

The monotone voice grew so faint she had to hold the device against her ear. “Data… corruption… low power… self-shutdown activated.”

She heard something rattling when she shook it back and forth. “Ojiisan, I don’t think this one works anymore.”

After a series of violent coughing fits her grandfather tried to speak. His hands seemed to be supporting his ribcage.

“Here,” he said in a broken voice, standing and dropping the tool chest on the bed beside her. “However old or forgotten, a little attention does wonders,” he said with a wink, running his hand through her hair.

“Are you all right, ojiisan?” Haruka said, noticing his eyes kept falling shut. “Or do you need a few extra screws yourself?”

Her grandfather laughed. “Ow, Haruka.” He began to cough again. “Maybe I should go briefly offline myself.” He pulled open drawers and collected bandaging, gauze, small jars of pills, ointments, and even hypodermic needles. “Now that you’re feeling better and the smoke isn’t getting in anymore, I’ll see to myself as well.”

He walked to a single door and held his eye before a scanner. “Welcome back, Retired General Hiroshi Ryūkan.”

“Ojiisan, you really are old if even the computer says that,” she teased, sticking out her tongue.

“Well, well, looks like you’re completely yourself again. When you’re strong enough to get back on your feet, you’re welcome to explore these rooms here. I trust I don’t need to tell you that you’re not to go into that smoky room again?”

Haruka nodded obediently and watched her grandfather make his way to the far end of the sickbay where the facilities stretched further.

“Give me an hour and I’ll be completely back on form,” he said reassuringly.

“All right, ojiisan!” she answered, biting her lower lip, a habit she had picked up from her mother.

With her fingernail she tried to open the egg, but the tiny screws kept her from examining the contents. In the tool chest she found a welding gun with protective goggles. Not something she had expected to find, but the dirty marks her grandfather had left on it suggested he’d had a good reason to. After some thorough searching she found what she needed and managed to open the device. A spark of excitement was visible in her eyes. She discovered that the rattling came from loose wires and immediately knew what was missing: the computer chip. She scanned the room and looked toward the door her grandfather had opened. There were more than enough devices here, but she wasn’t about to accept just any chip for her new partner.

The sound of running water reached her ears, her grandfather had apparently stepped into the shower. She jumped out of bed with Bro Tamah in hand and descended via the door he had opened down a staircase into a metal corridor. Every few meters thick beams and posts had been fitted for reinforcement. The floor was covered with a rough rubber mat and to her surprise everything was still intact and clean. Through the transparent panels in the wall she could see on her right something that strongly resembled her school canteen, while on her left lay storage rooms. Further along she discovered several side corridors with training facilities and sleeping quarters. Her full attention was drawn, however, to an enormous door at the end of the corridor. She looked up in surprise when she placed her hand on the scanner and the door opened on its own into what appeared to be a control room. Had her grandfather perhaps already granted her access?

An enormous screen hung on the wall showing a map of Tokyo. With so many red crosses, notifications, and flashing icons she could barely make out what was happening. The only thing she recognized were the names of her parents near the Tokyo Skytree. Her hand moved along the dark red flags hanging from the ceiling to the floor. In the center of each flag ‘Japan’ was written in white kanji characters, alongside the emblem of a military unit, a samurai sword piercing through a circle. It was the insignia of the old military unit that had once operated this bunker.

In the middle of the room stood a large table with a holographic projection of the bunker. Parts of the hologram had already started blinking. The holotable displayed detailed alerts about the smoke and showed camera footage of sections of the corridors beside the sickbay that had collapsed. Under the table her eye caught a ventilation grille from which a cool breeze drifted. She tried to pry it open, but it was firmly stuck.

“We don’t really need the holotable anyway. I’m sure I can get a computer chip out of here,” she said, glancing at Bro Tamah.

“Is everything all right in there?” her grandfather asked, seeing her back in the sickbay rummaging through the tool chest he had left behind.

“Yes, ojiisan, everything’s fine. I’m repairing Bro Tamah.”

“That’s fine, little one. Just please be a bit more careful.”

Back in the control room Haruka put on her grandfather’s welding goggles and took up the welding gun to melt off the four bolts of the ventilation grille on the holotable. Her face contorted when she kicked the grille open. The pain from several wounds nagged at her body, but it couldn’t hold back her curiosity. On hands and knees she crawled through a ventilation shaft that was tight even for her, in the corners of which many bundles of colored cables ran. She decided to follow these cables and was led through many bends and drops to a room that appeared to lie hidden beneath the control room. All the cables converged at a single point in the floor.

“Ah, there must be something for Bro Tamah in here,” said Haru, walking toward the dark box sitting in the middle of a tank of water. She stepped in up to her knees, hundreds of small lights reflecting in the surface all around her. In the darkness, with her flashlight in hand, it gave her the feeling of walking through a starfield. The actual sensation of the water was considerably less pleasant. Her wounds stung through it, but her determination drove her on. She pulled the screwdriver from her back pocket and opened a panel protruding above the waterline. A computer screen folded out: Password. After several frustrated attempts and many error messages she began to lose patience. With her screwdriver she pried the screen open, cupped her hand, filled it with water, and poured it directly into the opening she had made. The short circuit sent a plume of smoke rising, followed by a massive pillar rising up from the water. “Hm, could it be in there?”

Armed with her welding gun she bypassed the new screen that unfolded. With a steady hand she cut a circle into the pillar, behind which lay exactly what she had hoped for, a computer chip running from top to bottom, the color and shape different at the center where she had cut the opening. Engraved in gold letters at that point was the text: Ryūkan Industries. She slid her fingers through the opening and clicked a section of the chip loose. She suspected it didn’t matter much which piece she took, since all chips these days were modular. Her mother had explained that modular was like building blocks, but for grown-ups, special components that could be clicked together to build a house, a computer, or even a robot. An added advantage was that the AI integrated everything seamlessly into a whole. And if a fault occurred, the AI’s invisible nanomachines could correct it themselves.

“Oh, hello, ojiisan,” Haruka greeted him, wriggling out of the ventilation shaft with some effort and immediately looking down at his military boots. Her grandfather had found her in the control room, where he was waiting impatiently with his arms folded firmly across his chest.

“Now then, little one, I really cannot leave you alone,” he said, his eyelid beginning to twitch. With his hand he touched the red-stained patches on her clothing. “Wonderful. And I’d only just cleaned and bandaged everything.”

“Ojiisan, why is our name on the computer chip down there?”

“Oh no, Haru, are you serious… How on earth did you even manage to see that?” He picked up the empty welding gun and looked at Haruka. A mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Did you perhaps learn this from one of your books?”

Haru shook her head. “No, mama taught me.”

“I cannot believe it. I can see very clearly that we’re family.”

A series of loud bangs echoed through the corridors and shook the bunker. New alerts appeared on the holotable, but were now unreadable, showing nothing but a sequence of ones and zeros.

“Perfect timing,” her grandfather remarked, pulling open one of the weapons lockers in the control room.

“Are pa and mama coming to rescue us?”

“No, quite the opposite. We’re under attack.” Her grandfather quickly pulled on protective clothing and slid a handgun into his hip holster. “Put this on,” he ordered, holding out a helmet with a small visor. “This is an observation helmet. Originally designed to track footage from drones and soldiers in the field. But in this case you’ll also be able to communicate with me and even operate the bunker’s defensive systems.”

“Wow, ojiisan! This is incredible,” she cheered.

Without a trace of fear or panic she put on the far too large helmet. While the holotable was still unreadable and needed time to compensate for the missing chip, digital screens appeared before her eyes that only she could see, letting her view the available options regardless.

“Indeed, think of it as a kind of computer game,” her grandfather remarked, watching her poke at the air with her finger. He took a larger weapon from the rack and filled his bag and chest pockets with ammunition clips. “What a weight…” he groaned, one hand supporting his lower back. It was plainly clear he was too old for this kind of action. He took a deep breath and looked at Haruka with determination. “Haruka, remember that this is not an ordinary game. This is a matter of life and death.”

Haruka nodded seriously and turned her attention back to the screens before her.

“Ojiisan, they’re trying to breach section C, zone 2.”

Her grandfather hurried to the relevant area of the bunker and tried to close the door to zone 2, but the mechanism was completely jammed.

“I can’t get this door shut. Haruka, can you do anything from the control room?” her grandfather asked through the microphone.

Haruka searched for possible solutions. Invalid permissions, no access, the frustrating message rang out. Her fingers flew across the virtual keyboard.

“Have you already started up Bro Tamah? With the new chip he might be able to help.”

She quickly pressed the chip into place and held down a button, after which the same numbers appeared as on the holotable.

“Ojiisan, I think it’s working.” Loud bangs and gunfire interrupted her answer. “Welcome back, Ryūkan-san,” the device said to her. “Bro Tamah, ojiisan is in danger. Can you help him?” Haruka asked.

A calm and dignified voice answered: “New user identified as Haruka Ryūkan.”

Haruka watched in amazement as the large screen in the room was cleared at breathtaking speed. The holotable and the screen she had previously been unable to access seemed to be working now. “Bro Tamah, is this your doing?” she asked.

“Of course, Miss Haruka. How would you like to assist Mister Ryūkan?”

“How can you help him?” Haruka asked.

Here are some options: Switching off the lights: 5% chance of success. Keeping the doors sealed: 15%. Withdrawing oxygen from the adjacent corridors: 25%. Administering chemical agents: 45%. Activating defense turrets: 60%. …

“Bro Tamah, activate all of them!” Haruka ordered.

“Certainly, Commander Haruka.”

“Ojiisan, can you hear me?” she asked.

“Haru, Haruka,” her grandfather spluttered, she could see him on the screens running back, “it looks like everything worked!” He glanced through the window of the door as he pulled it shut behind him. Enormous gun emplacements descended from the ceiling, the furthest one already opening fire.

“Bro Tamah, what are our chances of holding them off?”

“With the current resources I predict 45%. Correction, 40%. My apologies, I mean a 25% chance of success.”

“Why? What’s suddenly happening?”

“My sensors are detecting a well-trained military unit. Based on this threat I have activated additional protocols. Miss Haruka, you now have access to the full drone and robot arsenal.”

“Ojiisan, please come back!” Haruka shouted above the gunfire and explosions. She used her fingers to select the positions of the new defensive systems, which immediately appeared from behind hidden panels in the corridors. Her grandfather’s response was lost in the noise, but his movements suggested he was retreating. He gave an approving pat to the armored shoulders of a humanoid robot, which responded with a somewhat stiff bow.

“No, ojiisan!” Haruka screamed as her grandfather fell to the ground. A beam had burned its way through the door and struck him in the leg. To avoid being hit again he pressed himself against the wall of the corridor and took cover behind one of the support pillars.

“Haruka, I can apply an unconventional countermeasure. Your ojiisan will then have the time he needs to get away. For a successful blockade, however, Mister Ryūkan must perform the final action manually. Would you please connect me directly to the primary user?”

“Ojiisan, Bro Tamah has a plan to get you out of there. I’m connecting you now.”

Haruka laid her helmet beside the white egg from which Bro Tamah was operating. On the large screen her grandfather was visible in one of the many corridors of the bunker. He appeared to be crawling to get away and seemed to be talking to Bro Tamah, but his words couldn’t be heard.

“Ah, I recognize this one,” said Haruka, diving into the weapons lockers in the control room as well. The holster she found was far too large to wear on her hip. She slung it over her back instead, pulling the straps tight. The handgun, which she had seen at home as an ornament in her father’s study, she slid into the holster on her back. The protective clothing was far too large, so she grabbed just a few ammunition clips and hurried toward the corridor where her grandfather was.

As she passed the sickbay, a strange blue glow appeared in the room and small flashes of light seemed to form between the steel beams and the gaps in the space. Suddenly the magazines were yanked from her hands. An invisible force pulled them and every other metal object upward like magnets to the ceiling. She looked down at her feet as she rose from the floor. With a firm jolt she was pressed flat against the ceiling, unable to move in any direction. She watched as the entire room became shrouded in a blue mist. Even the heavier metal devices seemed to be slowly lifting from the ground. Afraid of being crushed by all that metal, she freed herself from the holster and landed on her feet like a cat. She looked up at the weapon now beyond her reach.

At that moment she was thrown by an enormous shockwave. Her head struck the ground hard and she was then buried under all the metal that had been hanging above her just moments before. As the thundering force of explosions transformed everything around her, her surroundings went dark.

A hissing sound filled the air as the capsule in which Haruka lay slid open. She woke slowly and reached with her hands toward her eyes, surprised to find she could see clearly again. The pain and injuries across her body seemed to have disappeared after what felt to her like a deep and restful sleep. Before she had even stepped out of the capsule she was already rubbing her arms vigorously to generate warmth. Her breath turned immediately to a cloud of condensation in the icy air.

“What a strange room,” she murmured, looking around curiously. The space was strewn with a tangle of pipes and cables that seemed to come crawling out of every corner toward her. Beside her bed stood gas canisters and power cylinders of various sizes. “What is all of this?” She stared absently at one of the lights growing slowly brighter and said: “And where is ojiisan now?”

She walked to a neatly folded pile of military clothing. Even in the smallest sizes, she noticed immediately that her grandfather had taken them in with colorful stitching. That her military boots were a few sizes too large didn’t bother her at all. Her only concern was getting her feet warm. The determination to find food pushed her to leave the relatively warm room and venture further into the far too dark and bitterly cold bunker.

In the little light present in the corridors, ice crystals had formed along the steel support beams and glinted as she passed. It gave the cold space a magical quality that made it feel less frightening. Carefully Haruka made her way down from the sickbay. The steps were slippery and nearly sent her sliding more than once. Eventually she reached the lowest level. The thin layer of snow lying here was a relief, it crunched wonderfully underfoot with every step.

She slipped into the canteen and quickly found what she was looking for: her grandfather’s favorite biscuits, the ones he always had with his coffee. Something that was sure to make him happy. She tore the packaging open with her teeth because her frozen fingers couldn’t manage it. As she pushed another biscuit into her mouth, she held her hand in front of the scanner that gave access to the communications room. The doors, however, stayed stubbornly shut. She wiped the scanner clean with her sleeve, and then out of nowhere, it wasn’t her hand but her eye that was scanned.

“Welcome back, Retired General Hiroshi Ryūkan,” came the system’s immediate response. The door jolted and stopped halfway.

“Ojiisan, are you here?” Haru squeezed quickly through the narrow gap into the room. She searched it, but there was no sign of her grandfather. “Am I completely alone here?” Haru choked, sniffling and unable to hold back her tears.

“Good evening, Miss Haruka,” came a voice that made her jump. “You are not entirely alone, I am still here.”

Haru searched through her clothing quickly, but the egg-shaped device was nowhere to be found.

“Bro Tamah, is that you?” She felt a humming sensation in her eye. “Wha, what…” she stammered, staring in wonder at her own reflection in the ice on the wall.

“A rather complicated gift from your grandfather,” answered Bro Tamah, as Haru rubbed her hand over her eye.

“But how is this possible?”

“Mister Ryūkan is, how shall I put it, a man of many talents. He worked for many weeks to finish this in time.”

“What do you mean, in time? Where is ojiisan now?”

“Dear Miss Haruka, your grandfather is no longer with us.”

Haru let the packet of biscuits fall from her hands and sank to her knees. Tears ran down her cheeks and left small hollows in the snow. Her breath caught in her throat as she shook her head back and forth.

“What happened to him? Why wasn’t there time?”

“Miss Haruka, the bunker was in a critical state following the attack. I apologize, my action of overloading the generators caused you to be injured,” Bro Tamah answered.

“But why did ojiisan have to die?”

“Mister Ryūkan managed to escape thanks to my diversion. He detonated the bunker’s access points, along with all our enemies. After the attack, only a minimal amount of power and oxygen remained. The last of the oxygen was used for you, Miss Haruka.”

She swung at the wall but stopped herself at the last moment, pulling her fist back. “Ojiisan, what am I supposed to do now?”

“Miss Haruka, there is one small thing that Mister Ryūkan left behind.”

The floor began to tremble. Only now did she notice that the entire map of Japan was marked in red.

“Bro Tamah, what has happened out there beyond this bunker?”

Her right eye quickly projected a series of digital markers onto the map, the caption noting in bold letters that these were other affected locations.

“A mechanical attack whose origin remains unclear to me. Due to the collapse of sections of the bunker, I am no longer able to make contact with the outside world.” The screen split down the middle and slid slowly to the side, revealing a small space that resembled a freight elevator.

“Over the past months I have managed to gain full access to this military bunker, an extremely complex undertaking that until now only I, Bro Tamah, have been able to accomplish,” Bro Tamah proclaimed triumphantly.

Haru rolled her eyes.

“Miss Haruka,” he said honestly, “I should not have been much slower, otherwise neither you nor I would have been here to be saved.”

With hesitant steps Haru entered the lift and closed the doors, which then began to descend. Although the entire elevator was completely transparent, there seemed to be nothing to see. After some time the lift jolted to a stop and the doors slid open again. She stepped cautiously into the dark space. At her first step, rows of bright lamps fired up in rapid succession like a chain reaction, immediately flooding the entire room with light. Her mouth fell open in amazement as she took in the immense scale of the space. Deep underground, enormous robots stood lined along the walls of the hangar, ready for action.

Haruka recognized them immediately, these machines were called mechas. Her parents were among the few who could actually operate them. These models, however, were already many generations old. The frame was large and heavily armored, but outdated compared to the newer mechas that made use of stronger and lighter materials, making them leaner and more agile. The weapons mounted to the backs of these mechas still hung in their racks and appeared to be ballistic, now a rare technology given the rise of plasma energy. Thanks to this powerful energy source, the newer weapons had become far more capable, and some advanced mechas could even convert the energy into shields to deflect incoming attacks. The space felt like a hangar in which these mechas were maintained and stored. As she looked further around, she realized there was enough equipment here to build entirely new mechas from scratch. The bunker seemed self-sufficient on every front.

She hurried to one of the storage rooms, grabbed what she needed, and placed herself in the middle of the space. She tied her hair back quickly into a ponytail and opened the bucket she had brought with a deep breath. Her attention was drawn to the thick, slightly lumpy paint inside. She drew her wide brush through it to see how it responded. For what she intended to use it for, it would do perfectly.

Determined to begin a new chapter in her life, she chose to shorten her name to simply Haru. With graceful brushstrokes the kanji characters appeared on the floor and she noticed the paint bleeding slightly at the edges. The subtle texture that formed from the age of the paint added character to her work. Although it was not the refined shodo art of calligraphy that her grandfather had practiced, it was clear that his patient lessons had guided her hand.

Bro Tamah began to hum softly when he noticed the difference. “Haru, don’t you simply mean ‘spring’ when your name is written that way?”

Haru shook her head and smiled warmly. “It might sound the same, but I’ve written Haru in different kanji. It now stands for ‘clearing away’, or even ‘illumination’.”

With satisfaction she admired the result, stretching her back and placing her hands on her hips. This was not merely a symbol, it was her promise to Japan and to herself. She would uphold her family’s honor at whatever cost and find out what had happened to them and to Japan. Her characteristic grin spread across her face and she cracked her knuckles. Right then, ready for revenge. She quickly wiped her damp eyes on her sleeve and swallowed her fear.

“That is an excellent motivation,” Bro Tamah answered. “There is, however, a small caveat. You are indeed free to use these facilities, but you are still a minor. Mister Ryūkan has placed strict restrictions on the use of these facilities until you come of age…”

With a loud cry of pent-up frustration she hurled the brush to the ground, kicked over the bucket, sighed deeply, and muttered: “I’ll decide that for myself.”