Robinson sat on the hood of the familiar Nissan S15, gazing into the orange-streaked evening sky. His fingers toyed with a small bolt as his mind wandered—silent, distant, blank. The roaring engines, the chaos, the thrill of the race—all of it felt like someone else's life now.
Footsteps approached.
Paul stepped out of the garage, wearing his black leather jacket, his face lined with concern. He stopped beside the car, leaning against the door, watching his son.
"You need to head home, Rob," Paul said calmly, but with a steady tone.
Robinson turned slowly, his expression distant.
"Home? What even is that? Nothing feels familiar anymore."
Paul sighed, looking up at the sky before speaking again.
"Not here. Japan. Your grandfather's already arranged everything. An apartment, school… even someone to quietly keep an eye on you."
Robinson frowned slightly.
"So I'll be alone?"
Paul nodded.
"Physically, yes. But not truly alone. One of your grandfather's trusted people will be around, just in case."
Robinson looked down at the bolt in his hand, then gently placed it on the hood.
"Alone in a country I don't remember, with memories I don't have. Sounds like a fun start."
Paul moved closer and sat beside him.
"I know it's a lot. But if there's any place where you could start fresh, away from all this… it's there."
Silence stretched between them as the wind picked up, rustling the nearby tools and tarps.
Robinson finally looked at his father.
"When?"
Paul glanced at his watch.
"Tonight. Midnight flight. My contact will pick you up at Narita. Your passport's already in your bag."
Robinson nodded slowly.
"Okay."
Paul stood and gently patted Robinson's shoulder.
"Take your time. But don't take too long. I'll drive you home so you can pack."
Robinson remained silent for a few moments, then slid off the hood, landing on the ground with a soft thud.
Robinson walked slowly into Garage 17, his steps heavy but steady. Inside, Marcus sat on a stack of tires, wiping his hands free of engine grease while his girlfriend organized tuning tools into a metal case.
Marcus glanced at Robinson and gave him a half-smile.
"You've got the face of someone about to fly halfway across the world."
Robinson nodded.
"I'm here to say goodbye. I'm flying to Japan tonight."
Marcus's girlfriend paused what she was doing and looked over.
"Alone?"
"Technically not totally alone. Grandpa arranged for someone to keep an eye on me over there. Secretly," Robinson said quietly.
Marcus stood up and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Japan, huh? The homeland of street racing legends. Kinda fitting. Just don't end up selling fried rice in a Shibuya alley."
Robinson chuckled.
"No promises."
Marcus's girlfriend walked over and gave him a brief hug.
"Take care of yourself out there. Don't get into trouble… unless you're sure you can get out of it."
Robinson smiled.
"Thanks. For everything."
Outside, the engine of Paul's car roared to life. A quick honk followed.
Marcus raised a hand toward the sound.
"That's your ride. Don't keep him waiting. Your dad might be an undercover agent, but he's deadly serious when it comes to timing."
Robinson stepped outside. Paul was in the driver's seat, arm resting out the window, staring straight ahead.
Robinson opened the passenger door and climbed in without a word. The car pulled away slowly from Garage 17, its lights fading behind them.
The ride home was quiet—heavy with thought and unspoken questions.
The night sky hung still over JFK Airport. Announcements echoed softly, blending with hurried footsteps and the rolling of suitcases across marble floors.
Near the international departure gate, Robinson stood silently, embracing his mother tightly. Maya's hands trembled as she stroked his back, trying to hold back her tears.
"Take care of yourself, honey…" she whispered. "Even if you've forgotten everything… your heart still belongs to you."
Robinson closed his eyes for a moment, then gave a small nod. He turned to hug Paul—stiff, but sincere.
Paul leaned in and murmured, "Over there, you'll start to understand more than I can ever explain. Listen to your instincts. Don't let your past define you."
Robinson stepped back, lifted the backpack over his shoulder, and gave them both a final look.
Not far behind, his grandfather stood quietly, arms crossed, watching with sharp, unreadable eyes.
INSIDE THE PLANE – WINDOW SEAT
The cabin lights dimmed. Robinson sat by the window, hoodie on, earphones in. Lo-fi music played softly, helping calm his mind.
Across the aisle, a man in a black sweater and medical mask subtly watched him. Without drawing attention, he reached under his seat and pulled out a laptop.
He began typing silently.
[LOG ENTRY]
Target: R_Knight registered. Coordinates: Tokyo transfer active.
Subject under monitoring.
Initiate protocol: Whisper Phase.
The man glanced again at Robinson, then minimized the window.
The plane began to move down the runway. Robinson gazed out the window as the lights of New York slowly faded into the distance beneath the clouds.
Unaware, he was flying straight into a new chapter—and the eyes of a deeper world were already watching.
Daryl's phone buzzed. He was lying on his bed, headphones hanging around his neck, laptop screen dimly glowing. He glanced at the sender's name: Cassandra.
📩 Cassandra:
"Why isn't Robinson active? Even his stories are empty."
Daryl sat up slowly and replied with a sigh.
📩 Daryl:
"He left for Japan last night. Didn't he message you at all?"
Her response came quickly.
📩 Cassandra:
"Nothing. Even after he got out of the hospital and was diagnosed with amnesia… he never reached out. The last message I sent him was long. All he said back was: 'I don't know if we were in a relationship. I need time to remember everything.'"
Daryl stared at the screen for a while.
📩 Daryl:
"Cass… he's not rejecting you. He really doesn't remember. He even asked who Paul was. Who I was. Who you were."
There was a pause before Cassandra replied.
📩 Cassandra:
"I get it… but do you know what it feels like? Like being left behind by someone you thought finally started to trust you. And the worst part? He genuinely doesn't remember the feelings we had."
Daryl didn't reply immediately. Then he typed:
📩 Daryl:
"I know he'll remember. But even if he doesn't… you were a part of something real to him. Believe it or not, Cass… the last thing he did before ending up in the hospital was run out of a party just to make sure you were safe."
Cassandra stared at her phone, silent. Outside her apartment window, the city lights flickered beneath the night sky.
She typed… then deleted… then typed again…
📩 Cassandra:
"I just want to know… if one day he remembers—will he come looking for me?"
She hit send. And the night felt even quieter.
ARRIVAL IN TOKYO
Robinson's footsteps echoed softly as he walked through Haneda Airport's clean, bright terminal. Earphones still hung from his ears, though the music had long gone silent. His eyes scanned everything—signs in Japanese, then English.
The voices around him were fast and sharp. A new world.
As he stepped out of the arrival gate, the cool Tokyo air brushed against his face. He paused for a moment, taking in a city he didn't know. Then—
"Robinson-kun?"
A man's voice greeted him politely.
Robinson turned to see a Japanese man in a dark suit, holding a small sign that read: ROBINSON.
"A friend of Paul-san. I'm Arai. I'll take you to the apartment and assist while you're here," he said in formal but clear English.
Robinson nodded silently, still unsure of everything but choosing to follow.
In the car, as they drove through the glittering lights of Tokyo, Robinson looked out the window. Neon signs, tall buildings, crowded streets—everything seemed alive. But it still felt like a dream.
When they reached the apartment, Arai handed him a sleek electronic key.
"This is your room. Paid six months in advance by your father. Essentials are already stocked. Including this…"
He opened a small wardrobe near the desk and pulled out a Japanese school uniform—a crisp black blazer and white shirt.
"Your school starts next week. It's ten minutes away on foot. And… someone will be keeping an eye on you from a distance. They won't interfere. It's your grandfather's orders."
Robinson sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the uniform.
Even alone, he still felt watched.
His eyes scanned the apartment—modern, minimalist, bright… but cold. He leaned back a little, then whispered to himself:
"Japan… a new chapter. But why does it all still feel like a shadow?"