At that, a hush fell again. The weight of Kishibe's words was sobering – a man of his experience didn't issue warnings lightly. Madoka, sitting a few seats over, nodded in agreement. The bespectacled agent had a laptop and several folders spread on his lap, remnants of whatever analysis he'd been doing in Washington, D.C. Dark circles underscored his eyes behind his glasses, but he was alert. "He's right," Madoka said quietly. He straightened his slightly disheveled suit jacket. "A full recall of all operatives… that never happens. Not unless everything we've been working on is coming to a head. I suspect—"
He was interrupted as Angel wandered over from the corner. Angel – a lithe young man with a mop of pale hair and an almost ethereal, apathetic look – had indeed isolated himself at the edge of the room earlier, half-dozing in a chair by the wall. Now, drawn by curiosity or boredom, he joined the small cluster. "I suspect we're about to get very busy, very fast," Angel finished Madoka's thought with a languid sigh. He rolled his shoulders as if already feeling the ache of the work to come. "They wouldn't drag me back from a rather lovely African sunset if it wasn't urgent." He plopped down into an empty chair, draping one arm over the back. His expression was hard to read – he looked half-asleep, but those who knew Angel understood that was when he was often most perceptive.
Kobeni bit her lip and spoke up again, voice barely above a whisper. "This recall… It's because of the traitors, isn't it? The ones who…who betrayed us during the lab incident." She glanced around nervously. "Tokyo must be in danger."
At the mention of betrayal, a ripple of grim understanding passed through the group. They all remembered the report they recently got – the coordinated attack a month ago, the theft of every valuable Pokémon and piece of research from their secure lab in Hokkaido, pulled off by insiders they had trusted. That single event had shattered their ranks.
Aki's jaw clenched at Kobeni's words. "If those bastards are operating in Tokyo…" he muttered, "then Makima's likely preparing a counterattack. A thorough one."
"We should've expected it," Angel said flatly, eyes half-lidded. "Rotten branches close to the root. Tokyo's the root." He let out a slow breath, perhaps already steeling himself for a grind of days with little sleep.
Himeno exhaled a stream of air as if it were smoke, slipping her unlit cigarette back into its case. "Well, whatever the case, I'm just glad we're all in one piece." She offered a faint smile to the others. "Hell of a homecoming, isn't it? At least we get to see each other's lovely faces again."
Denji chuckled, nudging Power. "Yeah! I mean, I didn't think I'd miss you all, but maybe I kinda did."
Power huffed, tossing her hair. "Speak for yourself, dumbass. I thrived on my own! …But," she added in a quieter mumble, "this place is less boring with all of you around."
A few of them smiled at that. Even Kobeni managed a weak laugh, wiping her eyes quickly with her sleeve – whether those were tears of relief or anxiety, perhaps even she didn't know.
Arai, who had been silently listening from beside Kobeni, adjusted his round glasses nervously. Hirokazu Arai was among the younger agents, and he still carried himself with a bit of rookie self-consciousness. After months alone in the field, being back with his team felt almost overwhelming. "An all-hands meeting of just us, off the official record… It means Makima doesn't want anyone else to even know what we discuss."
Madoka cast a glance at Arai, an approving look in his eyes. "Exactly. We should be prepared for a sort of…war council. Off-book."
Aki uncrossed his arms and nodded firmly. "Then let's get ready for that. Remember, we trust only each other now." His gaze fell particularly on Denji and Power, wordlessly urging them to settle down. Then Aki himself drew a steadying breath, as if donning an invisible mask of professionalism. It had been a long time since all of them were in one room, and it stirred something in him – a mix of determination and a quiet relief.
Before anyone could add more, the heavy door at the back of the hall hissed and began to swing inward. Conversation died immediately. Denji straightened so fast he nearly fell out of his chair again; Power hopped off the back of her seat to land on her feet; Kobeni froze mid-fidget. All eyes snapped to the doorway.
In stepped a tall young man with silver-gray hair and striking ice-blue eyes. He wore a crisp black tactical suit – the kind that could pass for an office suit or conceal body armor underneath – and he carried himself with a relaxed, almost breezy confidence. He was clean-shaven, youthful, and would've looked like a fresh-faced recruit if not for the aura of quiet authority and razor-sharp alertness that radiated from him. As he moved further into the room, the light revealed a faint diagonal scar across his chin – one of the very few marks on an otherwise unblemished face.
Those who hadn't met him in person instantly knew who he was. The legend among them. Hiroshi "Elusive Fox" Kobayashi had arrived, and with him came a palpable shift in the air – from anxious silence to anticipation.