In the spring of Cosmic Era 68, the artificial climate system of the Heliopolis Space Colony precisely simulated the changing seasons on Earth. Beneath the dome, cherry blossoms—genetically modified ornamental varieties—bloomed on schedule, spreading soft pink clouds. Yet beneath this deliberately cultivated tranquility, the atmosphere inside the Space Colony grew increasingly tense with the constant low-level harassment directed at Coordinators. Blue Cosmos slogans and leaflets were like stubborn weeds, quietly reappearing overnight after they had been cleared away. For Mei Hock, who possessed ACCORD abilities, this pervasive unease was no abstract concept, but a continuous, low-frequency warning humming in the background of his mind. He understood better than anyone that these seemingly scattered acts of malice were the faint tremors preceding a greater storm.
At school, Akira continued to maintain the image of a Coordinator student who was "excellent, but not excessively outstanding." His aptitude for science, particularly physics and engineering, drew attention, but he always left just enough harmless flaws in his humanities work to keep his overall grades within a reasonably excellent range. This precise control came from the continual optimization and calibration of his behavior through his ACCORD abilities.
His true talent emerged in an extracurricular science and technology project group funded by Morgenroete. The group's task was to design and optimize a simplified model of a small Space Colony's internal ecological recycling system. The project had hit a thorny problem: after the algae cultivation module used to purify the water had run continuously for a while, its efficiency would inexplicably plummet.
The group members, including several older students, gathered around the complex pipes and sensors, arguing endlessly. Some thought the lighting cycle had been set incorrectly; others suspected the nutrient solution's proportions. Akira stood quietly to one side. His ACCORD abilities made him a precision scanner, silently analyzing every visible parameter, along with the subtle sounds and vibration feedback produced by the running equipment.
"It isn't the lighting or the nutrient solution," Akira said calmly when the argument reached a deadlock, pointing to an inconspicuous miniature check valve connecting the cultivation tank to the main circulation system. "The problem may be here. When this model of valve operates at a low flow rate for an extended period, algae secretions can accumulate on the inner surface of the flap, forming a hard-to-detect biofilm. That can prevent it from opening and closing fully, affecting circulation efficiency. Although it's designed for one-way flow, even a tiny amount of leakage backflow would be enough to alter the local microenvironment."
The group's advisor, a young engineer from Morgenroete, adjusted his glasses in surprise. This was a remarkably detailed deduction, well beyond the conventional line of thinking. He motioned for Akira to continue.
"We could try two approaches," Akira continued, his tone still level, as though stating an obvious fact. "First, we could dismantle and clean the valve to verify the cause. Second, if we don't have spare parts or time to take it apart right now, we could temporarily make a small increase to the peak flow rate through this valve in the program. We could use the momentary fluid shear force to try to flush away any loosely attached biofilm, while monitoring all the parameters in the main cultivation tank to make sure we don't stress the algae."
His proposal combined theoretical sophistication with practical feasibility. The second, temporary solution in particular demonstrated a deep understanding of how the system operated dynamically. The advisor immediately asked him to try it. Akira entered a few concise lines of code at the control terminal and adjusted the parameters. A few minutes later, the sensor readings showed that circulation efficiency had indeed begun to recover slowly.
"Remarkable observation and systems thinking, Hawke," the advisor said, generous with his praise. "You didn't just identify an extremely well-hidden fault; you also came up with a noninvasive solution. Your familiarity with these systems hardly seems possible for a secondary school student."
Akira lowered his head modestly, crediting the team and a little "luck." "I just happened to read a maintenance manual for a similar assembly in the library. It mentioned this potential problem." Once again, he had successfully packaged a "precise diagnosis" based on extraordinary analytical ability as the result of "extensive reading and careful connections."
Small as this successful troubleshooting effort had been, it brought Akira's name to the attention of some of Morgenroete's technical staff once more. Not long afterward, the school officially recommended him for a higher-level science and technology innovation competition open to all young people in the United Republic of Orb. Its organizer was Morgenroete itself. The competition's reach went far beyond that of any school activity.
When the news reached the Hawke Family, Thomas and Erica felt proud of him, but the worries buried deep in their hearts also resurfaced. At dinner, an undercurrent ran beneath the family's joyful mood.
"Akira, that's wonderful!" His father, Thomas, raised his glass in congratulations, though there was a barely perceptible heaviness in his eyes.
"Thank you, Dad," Akira replied, clearly sensing the complicated mix of emotions in his parents.
"But..." His mother, Erica, picked up the conversation, her voice gentle but worried. "A competition like this will attract a lot of attention... Your father and I just hope... you can stay safe and happy." She did not spell it out, but everyone present understood what hostile forces might be among those paying "attention."
"PLANT... is the Coordinators' homeland, after all," Thomas said quietly after a brief silence. "Perhaps... it's time to start thinking about the future. For the children's safety."
Through his ACCORD abilities, Akira could feel his parents' profound love, bound up with their concern over the Coordinators' situation. He knew that the glimmer he had kindled was prompting them to think seriously about the Hawke family's future. The seed of a move to PLANT had quietly been planted.
Deepening bonds and the truth of blood ties
While Akira was preparing for the competition, a chance incident further changed the dynamics within the family.
One weekend afternoon, Erica sent Luna Maria up to the attic to find an old suitcase for storing out-of-season clothes. As she rummaged through a dust-covered corner, a slightly worn kraft-paper document envelope slipped out from beneath a pile of old books and clothes. It had not been properly sealed, and several documents scattered across the floor.
Luna Maria bent down curiously to pick them up, her gaze passing over the form on top. It was a copy of an official adoption registration document. Printed clearly on it were the following words:
Adoptee: Mei Hock (Lin Ming) Adoptive parents: Thomas Hawke & Erica Hawke Adoption registration date: January 15, Cosmic Era 65
Beneath the registration date was a note in small print: "Original guardians deceased; referred through the Heliopolis District 3 Orphanage."
Luna Maria froze as though rooted to the spot, blinking again and again as she checked the words on the page. January 15, Cosmic Era 65... She remembered that date vividly. It was shortly after she and her younger sister, Meirin, had encountered Blue Cosmos thugs on their way home from school and been bravely rescued by a black-haired boy! That boy... was Akira! He came to live with us afterward... So... he wasn't our parents' biological child?
A surge of shock, understanding, and a faint, indescribable flutter of feeling quietly breaking through swept over Luna Maria's heart. Instinctively, she hurriedly slipped the documents back into the envelope, carefully returned it to its original place, brushed off the dust, and pretended she had found nothing. But that date and the word "adoption" seared themselves into her mind like a burning brand.
Late that night, when the house was quiet, Luna Maria tossed and turned in bed. At last, unable to hold back, she slipped into her younger sister Meirin's room and gently shook her awake.
"Meirin, Meirin! Wake up!" Luna Maria kept her voice low, filled with barely contained excitement and a hint of panic.
Meirin rubbed her sleepy eyes and looked blearily at her sister. "Luna Maria... what's wrong?"
"I found... an enormous secret!" Luna Maria leaned close to Meirin's ear and whispered urgently. "Today, in the attic... I saw a document! Akira... Akira isn't our biological brother!"
"Huh?" Meirin was instantly awake, her green eyes opening wide in the darkness, filled with disbelief. "Not... our biological brother?"
"That's right!" Luna Maria nodded hard, her heart pounding. "The document said he was adopted! The date was... it was the same year he saved us!"
A brief silence fell over the room. The two girls looked at each other in the darkness, hearing only one another's racing heartbeats. This sudden truth was like a massive stone cast into a tranquil lake, sending out violent ripples. For years, their understanding of him as their "biological brother" had been an invisible barrier, governing how they interacted with Akira and setting the boundaries of their feelings. Now, that barrier had abruptly vanished.
"So..." Meirin's voice trembled with uncertainty. "Akira... isn't related to us by blood?"
"Right!" Luna Maria's tone grew complicated, carrying the excitement of solving a mystery, the exhilaration of breaking free of a restraint, and the shyness of a young girl's budding feelings. "He's not our biological brother... Then... does that mean we can... we can..." She did not finish, but in the darkness her cheeks burned and her heart hammered. The affection and dependence she felt toward Akira that went beyond the bond between siblings-feelings she had deliberately ignored or suppressed-now surged forward like floodwaters through a broken dam.
Meirin did not answer immediately, but beneath the covers, her hands quietly clenched. She remembered relying on Akira's stories to fall asleep every night, instinctively slipping under his covers for reassurance when she was frightened, and the secret admiration she felt when she looked at his face in profile as he concentrated... If... if he isn't our biological brother, does that mean these feelings aren't "wrong" anymore? A mixture of shyness, uncertainty, and faint anticipation sent ripples across the quiet lake of her heart.
For Luna Maria and Meirin, that night was destined to be sleepless. An old definition of "brother" had been shattered, and in its wake, the tectonic plates of their emotional worlds began quietly shifting, heralding the formation of a new landscape filled with uncertainty and heart-fluttering possibilities. They did not know that the brother they relied on and admired was silently preparing for a storm that would soon sweep across the world. The glimmer he had revealed not only illuminated a possible path for the family's future, but had also unwittingly become a catalyst for the changes taking place in their hearts.
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