Kamina looked around at the group suspended above the planet, held aloft by Voyager's will.
"So," he said, "how do we get back to our own Mirror World?"
Shmuel turned to look at him.
"Our own what?" he asked.
"Mirror World," Kamina repeated, as if that would clarify anything. "The one we came from. We're in a different one now, right? So we need to go back to the other one."
Shmuel stared at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Kamina scratched the back of his head, clearly trying to find words. "Well, uh... there are multiple worlds, right? And we're in one now, but it's not the real one. So we need to go back to the real one. Because it's real."
"That's not a good explanation," Shmuel said.
Pioneer, Curiosity, and Opportunity had already moved closer, their eyes bright with the specific intensity of researchers who'd just encountered a genuinely interesting problem.
"Wait," Curiosity said. "Are you saying there are parallel worlds? Alternate realities?"
"Yeah, probably," Kamina said. "Something about Mirror Worlds being infinite or whatever."
Opportunity's mind was already working. "If that's the case, transitioning between dimensional planes would require either a significant velocity, faster than light travel, perhaps a localized distortion in spacetime."
"A wormhole," Pioneer added immediately, her eyes bright. "Or a fold in the fabric of reality itself. If we could identify the mathematical properties of the barrier between worlds..."
"You'd need to match the resonance frequency," Curiosity said, building on the thought. "Every world probably has a unique harmonic signature. If we could calculate it based on the observable differences between this world and ours..."
"Right, but we'd need data," Opportunity said. "Specific measurements…"
Kamina held up his hand.
"I don't understand any of that," he said bluntly.
Voyager's voice was quiet, but it cut through their theories.
"I can feel it," he said. Everyone turned to look at him. "The Mirror World. The one we came from. It's like... a vibration. A frequency. I can touch it."
"Can you open a portal?" Pioneer asked eagerly.
"Not exactly," Voyager said. His eyes were distant, focused on something only he could perceive. "I can move through it. But there's a limit. I can only take one or two other people with me."
"How many people do we have?" Imogen asked, counting quickly. "Eight. That's not going to work."
Kamina looked at Voyager.
"Then do the impossible."
Voyager didn't argue. He just nodded slightly, as if accepting a challenge he'd already anticipated.
Kamina turned to Rowbotham.
"Grab Curiosity and Pioneer," he said. "Hold on tight."
Rowbotham looked confused but didn't question it. He reached out and pulled both researchers toward him, his broad arms wrapping around them securely. Curiosity and Pioneer had just enough time to realize what was happening before they were pressed against his chest.
Kamina gestured to Shmuel.
"You grab Imogen and Opportunity."
Shmuel moved without hesitation, his mechanical arms strong enough to hold both of them firmly against his sides. Imogen yelped in surprise, but she didn't struggle. Opportunity simply accepted the situation with the pragmatism of someone who'd learned long ago not to waste energy on questions that would be answered in seconds anyway.
Kamina turned back to Voyager.
"Alright," he said. "Let's see what your new power can do."
Voyager closed his eyes.
The air around them began to shimmer. It wasn't visible, more like a distortion in reality itself, a tremor in the fabric of space. The planet below started to fade, not disappearing but becoming translucent, dreamlike.
"Hold on," Voyager said.
And the world shifted.
Kamina looked directly at Voyager.
"Do you believe in logic?" he asked.
Voyager hesitated for only a moment. "Yes?"
"Well, you better know this," Kamina said. "When I'm around, there is no logic."
The statement hung in the space between them, simple and absolute.
There was always something fundamentally wrong with Kamina's existence in this world. A person like him, unreasonable, absurd, burning with a kind of defiance that logic couldn't account for, should not survive in a place as cruel as the City. And yet he did. More than survived. He burned brighter than the sun itself, a figure of such concentrated purpose and madness that reality seemed to bend around him rather than the other way around.
He was the kind of person who would drill a place for himself in heaven or break it entirely, doing whatever he pleased with complete indifference to the rules that governed lesser beings. He dared to be brighter than a star, and in a world of infinite darkness, that brightness was its own kind of logic, one that operated on principles the reasonable could never comprehend.
Kamina reached out and grabbed Voyager's shoulder.
A string of light burst from his hand, brilliant, tangible, connecting directly to Voyager's core. It couldn't be explained in words. It was a human connection, a thread of understanding that transcended the boundaries of individual minds.
"Remember what you heard earlier," Kamina said. "Human connections aren't so easy to be severed."
Light enveloped both of them.
[Synchronize E.G.O :: Pale Blue Dot]
Kamina's form transformed. In its place came the astronaut outfit, white and pristine, matching Voyager's own. The square mirrors erupted across his body, each one a prism scattering light in infinite directions. His katana melted away, reforming into a Pistol Grip Tool, a compact device that felt natural in his hand, like an extension of his will rather than a separate object.
Voyager's E.G.O deactivated, his form returning to normal.
Kamina hefted the Pistol Grip Tool, raising it to his shoulder level.
"Hold on tight," he said. "The road's about to get shaky."
He pulled the trigger.
The tool fire
A concentrated burst of energy that tore directly through the fabric of space itself. Glass-like cracks spread outward from the impact point, each fracture spreading in geometric patterns, creating an opening large enough to step through. Beyond it, the familiar landscape of their own world was visible, the streets, the buildings, the weight of the City pressing down from above.
Kamina gestured with his free hand.
"Go," he told Rowbotham and Shmuel.
Rowbotham didn't hesitate. Still holding Curiosity and Pioneer, he moved toward the expanding crack in space and stepped through. Shmuel followed immediately after, Imogen and Opportunity secured in his mechanical grip. The moment all four of them crossed the threshold, the crack began to seal behind them, the fractured space knitting itself back together.
Only Kamina and Voyager remained suspended above the pale blue dot.
Kamina turned to look at the boy.
"You coming?" he asked.
Voyager was quiet for a long moment. His blond hair caught the light from the distant sun. His eyes, young, ancient, and infinitely contemplative all at once, traced the curve of the planet below.
"No," Voyager said finally. His voice was small but absolutely certain. "I would like to voyage through the Mirror Worlds endlessly. To find my twin soul. To see what's waiting in the places no one else has been."
Kamina smiled. It wasn't the grin of someone about to fight or trick or manipulate. It was the genuine expression of someone who understood exactly what Voyager was choosing, and approved of it completely.
He reached back and slapped Voyager on the back, acknowledging the decision.
"Then go," Kamina said. "Voyage as far as you need to."
Kamina deactivated his Synchronize E.G.O.
The astronaut suit dissolved. His form returned to normal. He fell back to being simply Kamina again, the absurd figure who refused to acknowledge the boundaries of logic.
Voyager bloomed into his Effloresced E.G.O once more.
[Effloresced E.G.O :: Pale Blue Dot]
The square mirrors on his body began to resonate. They caught light and fractured it, creating interference patterns that tore through dimensional barriers. A wormhole opened, a tunnel of twisted space and refracted reality, leading to places that might exist or might be pure possibility. The entropy of infinite worlds beckoned from within.
"Maybe I'll find her," Voyager said softly. He was simply musing aloud about the beautiful uncertainty of his future.
"Maybe you will," Kamina replied.
"How lovely that the ambiguity has offered me this choice," Voyager whispered.
He stepped into the wormhole, and it contracted around him, pulling him through to whatever Mirror World awaited on the other side. Perhaps he would find his twin soul in the next world. Perhaps not. Perhaps the search itself was all that mattered. Perhaps every version of himself was eternally reaching for a version of her across infinite worlds, never quite touching, never quite giving up.
The wormhole sealed behind him, leaving only empty space.
Kamina stood alone for just a moment, suspended above the planet. Then he looked at the crack in space he'd created himself, the one still hanging open, waiting for him.
He walked toward it and stepped through.
The Orphanage's rooftop came into focus.
Kamina landed with his boots firmly planted on the concrete. Around him, large tents had been set up, the temporary shelter that Asan's company had constructed for the children of the Far Beyond. The fabric fluttered slightly in the breeze. Inside, he could see silhouettes moving about, going through the mundane routines of people who'd been through extraordinary things and were now just trying to exist.
Shmuel was already there, helping Imogen tending her eyes. Rowbotham stood nearby, still processing the transition between worlds. Curiosity and Pioneer were examining the fabric of one of the tents, already theorizing about the construction methods.
Opportunity was sitting on the edge of the roof, her legs dangling over the drop, looking out at the City sprawling beneath them.
How earthly it all was. How wonderfully, terribly, beautifully ordinary.
The sun was setting. The orphanage children were calling out to each other from inside. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. The City continued its eternal grinding, indifferent to the miracles that had just occurred in spaces beyond its comprehension.
Kamina walked toward where Shmuel and Imogen were standing.
"We're back," he said simply.
"Yeah," Shmuel replied, looking out at the familiar landscape. "We are."
Imogen slumped against one of the tent supports, her whole body sagging.
"We should have just taken the mascot costume job at K Corp," she said. "Why didn't we just do that? It would have been easy. Safe."
Kamina grinned at her.
"Because you're too good for easy and safe," he said.
"I don't want to be good," Imogen shot back. "I want to eat something. I haven't eaten in twenty-four hours. Do you understand what that means? I'm starving. And I want to do something that doesn't involve getting thrown into alternate realities and fighting in wars."
"You and Shmuel did good though," Kamina said, his tone shifting slightly, not losing the lightness, but acknowledging it. "Our office did a good job. Really good."
Shmuel was already pulling out a first aid kit from one of the tents, moving gently as he began to tend to Imogen's bleeding eyes.
"Oh right,"Shmuel said, glancing at Curiosity, "what are you planning to do now? The Far Beyond, I mean. What's next for you all?"
Curiosity was quiet for a moment. He was still in his school clothes, still looking remarkably young despite everything he'd been through.
"I'm going to pursue medicine," he said finally. "The doctor path. Maybe I'll specialize in augmentation, Enhance tattoo work, prosthetic technology, something like that. But first..." He paused. "First I need to finish some of the research ideas Voyager had written down. He left notes. I want to see them through."
Curiosity looked around the rooftop, as if searching for something.
"Where is Voyager?" he asked Kamina.
Kamina pointed his finger upward toward the sky. Toward the stars that were just beginning to appear as the sun continued its descent.
Curiosity understood immediately. He looked up for a long moment, his expression soft and contemplative.
"I hope he has a great journey," Curiosity said quietly. "Finding what he's looking for. I hope every world he visits is colorful in its own way."
Kamina turned to acknowledge Rowbotham, who was standing slightly apart from the group, still processing the transition from one world to another. The Proxy looked smaller somehow, now that he was no longer surrounded by the trappings of the Index.
"Bro," Kamina said, his tone suddenly serious. "Get ready. You're going to be handling the paperwork for this one."
He gestured toward Rowbotham.
Shmuel's head snapped up from where he was carefully applying antiseptic to Imogen's eyes.
"Wait, what?" Shmuel said. "No. Absolutely not this time. You're the office Rep. You should be handling the paperwork for getting an ex-Proxy of the Index inducted into a fixer office. That's literally your job."
"I'm busy," Kamina said, already backing away.
"With what?" Shmuel demanded. "We just got back!"
"Important stuff," Kamina replied vaguely. "Very important. Definitely requires my immediate attention."
"That's not fair," Shmuel said, but Kamina was already heading toward the stairs leading down from the roof.
"Have fun with the bureaucracy!" Kamina called over his shoulder, his voice bright and completely unbothered.
Imogen made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan.
"He's terrible," she said.
"Absolutely terrible," Shmuel agreed, but he was already mentally preparing himself for the mountain of paperwork that awaited. Getting someone from the Index into a fixer office legally was going to be a nightmare of red tape and forms and questions that had no good answers.
Rowbotham cleared his throat.
"I can help with the paperwork, if needed," he offered.
Shmuel looked at him, then back at Imogen, whose eyes were still being gently treated.
"Yeah," Shmuel said finally. "Yeah, I think you're going to have to."
Below them, the City hummed with its evening routines. Somewhere in the darkness, Voyager was stepping into a new world. Somewhere in the offices and streets, the consequences of their actions were beginning to ripple outward.
Kamina walked down the hallway of Asan's House of the Star.
The Director's office. The walls had pictures of children. There were filing cabinets overflowing with documents. A coffee maker that looked like it had seen better decades.
He pushed the door open without knocking.
Dwight D. Eisenhower sat behind his desk. In front of him, a teacup sat steaming.
And across from him, in one of the two visitor's chairs, sat a figure in a black coat and burnished steel mask.
Alexy.
They turned their featureless head toward the door as Kamina entered. The steel surface caught the light, reflecting nothing and everything simultaneously.
"Kamina," Alexy said, their dual voice filling the small office with an uncanny warmth. "Punctual as always."
Dwight gestured to the remaining chair with his teacup. "Have a seat. Alexy was just explaining the situation regarding your commission and the incident with the Mirror World."
Kamina sat down slowly, his eyes moving between the two of them. "So Alexy hired us to protect kids watching the sky because...?"
"Because I suspected what might happen," Alexy said simply. They lifted their teacup, somehow they'd acquired one and sipped from it without ever revealing how that worked with a steel mask. "The Far Beyond children possessed latent Psychoment potential. Particularly Voyager. When exposed to the right stimulus, in this case, the telescope pointed at infinity, they would manifest capabilities that transcended normal classification."
"And you knew the City would try to stop them," Kamina said. It wasn't a question.
"Four children pursuing knowledge beyond their designated roles? That invited... complications."
Dwight added, "Alexy's been very helpful in managing everything regarding your office's activities this commission. There are certain records that need to be... adjusted."
Kamina leaned back in his chair, grinning despite himself.
"Let me guess. You're not just here for tea," he said to Alexy.
"Tea is always secondary," Alexy confirmed. "But yes. There is another matter. Voyager will be traveling between Mirror Worlds. That creates certain... opportunities. And certain dangers."
"And you want us to..." Kamina waited.
"To be aware," Alexy said. "Nothing more. For now."
Kamina leaned forward slightly.
"How do you know everything?" he asked. "It's like you can read into the future or something. You send us a job protecting kids watching the sky, and suddenly we're thrown into alternate realities fighting in wars. You always seem to be ten steps ahead."
Alexy tilted their steel mask toward him. For a moment, there was only silence, the kind of silence that suggested an answer was being formulated but wouldn't be fully expressed.
"It's a game of guesses," Alexy said finally.
That was all they said. No elaboration.
One phrase, simple and absolute, which somehow answered nothing while simultaneously closing the conversation.
Kamina opened his mouth to press further, but Alexy was already standing.
The figure moved with that characteristic grace, smooth and unhurried. They set their teacup down on Dwight's desk.
"Wait," Kamina said quickly. "About the pay. This commission was way more than what we were given. That's worth more than the original contract."
Alexy paused at the door.
"Agreed," they said simply. "Shmuel will receive the adjusted payment. Consider it hazard compensation for services rendered beyond initial scope."
Alexy turned to Dwight. "Thank you for the tea, Director. It was adequate."
Dwight nodded, a faint smile crossing his tired face. "Always a pleasure, Alexy."
Alexy looked back at Kamina one final time, the steel mask catching the office light.
"Continue burning brightly," Alexy said. It was more like an observation, stating what Kamina would do regardless of anyone's opinion on the matter.
Without waiting for a response, Alexy stepped through the door and into the hallway. Their footsteps or rather, the absence of footsteps, since their boots made no sound on the tiles, faded into distance.
Kamina sat there for a moment, processing the interaction.
Then he stood up and stretched, rolling his shoulders.
"Alright," he said. "I'm gonna head back upstairs. Shmuel's probably angry at me by now, and Imogen's probably still hungry."
Kamina then stepped out into the hallway. Behind him, he could still hear the faint sound of Dwight's teacup against the saucer, a gentle, ordinary sound that felt like a benediction of sorts.
He climbed the stairs back toward the roof, where his office waited. Where Shmuel was probably complaining about paperwork. Where Imogen was definitely still hungry. Where Rowbotham was learning what it meant to be part of something that existed outside the Five Fingers' rigid structure.
And somewhere up there or not up there, but somewhere across infinite worlds, Voyager was voyaging through Mirror Worlds, searching for a twin soul that might exist in any of them or none of them.
The City continued its eternal grinding below. The syndicates moved their pieces. The Associations filed their cases. The world spun on, indifferent to the small miracles that occurred in its margins.
But here, in this moment, climbing stairs toward a roof with makeshift tents and exhausted friends, Kamina felt something close to satisfaction.
He'd taken on a job. He'd gone to another world. He'd saved a kid who needed saving. He'd brought his office through it.
And he'd earned better pay in the process.
That was a victory by any measure.