"Nothing is free."
The riders slid through the first corner, spraying the run-off between the track and barriers with dirt and narrowly avoiding bowling each other over.
"That is rule number one," the man continued. "Everyone has something they get in exchange, whether you know it or not."
"May I ask what the benefit of hosting a summit is?" Hisako asked.
The man barked with laughter. "Eh, all the excitement is in your own backyard!"
So he was the well-lauded "Cesco"—teacher to Aniello, owner of the property, and co-host of the summit. Had he also helped them get their badges faster when he'd lingered briefly at the gate and chatted with her?
"These meetings are so boring," Cesco sighed. "You have to find the fun, so why not just make it my own game? Besides, nobody else wanted to host, so I offered. It would look bad for Italy if I didn't."
The riders completed their first lap. Cesco briefly paused his lecture to glance at the linked stopwatches. Hisako watched him carefully—each screen had a blinking readout as soon as the rider crossed the line. Some of the bright colors matched the suits, but some didn't, and they didn't have names labeling them.
"The second rule is that perception is everything," he explained. "If people think you're trustworthy, they'll open up to you. It's all a game of words, but words can be overshadowed by actions; at the end of the day, helping someone is worth far more than pretty words—that's the third rule."
Helping people. That's what Hisako did.
The bikes began to gap up as the laps continued. They passed each other, then re-took their places. At one corner, they went four wide before breaking up again on a straight. They made it around the track in about a minute and a half, if Hisako had to guess; then they ripped by and did it again in less time without any prompting from Cesco.
Cesco squinted. "Eh, that's kind of all the things you need to know, but what would you like to know?"
Eiji motioned for Hisako to go first.
"Well…"
She debated just going for the question she needed the answer to, but there was a warning glint in Cesco's eye when he pulled his eyes from his students to her, one brow raised.
"Do you know why the Rangers aren't here? I got the impression they usually attended summits."
His face quirked as he thought. "Eh, well, tensions are high nowadays. I don't know exactly why, but nobody is as friendly as they used to be. If they were, we wouldn't be hosting the summit," he added with a laugh. His face fell a bit. "But, uh, it's the right thing to do, I suppose. At least I can say I tried to prevent another war."
"War?" Hisako echoed.
She looked to Eiji to confirm she'd understood him correctly.
"You're right—we're new Doorkeepers. We've never heard of any wars," Eiji said.
The man changed. He stared them down with a new intensity, but he still had that humored smirk, this time showing a few pale teeth. He chuckled a bit and waved dismissively, chirping in Italian.
The riders blew past again, one of them whooping as they sped past another who staggered out of a corner-slide.
"Japan doesn't get involved with our wars. It's fine—they're not against other Door-regulation organizations, and we only engage in maybe one or two of these 'wars' in a year. Think of it more like a war on crime, really.
"Rogue Awakened occasionally wise up and form little gangs, and sometimes those gangs grow into larger gangs, so we launch a full-scale enforcement effort to take down these large 'crime families'. The UEDG only gets fully involved when the troublemakers cross country borders."
"Are these wars big?" Hisako asked.
The man smiled, sharp and pitying, as if he were sorry to break the bliss of ignorance. "We lose a dozen or so Guardians each battle. It's not like those little spats you sometimes see on patrol; these are strategic ambushes and calculated confrontations—whole towns become battlefields. We disable supply lines, strike soft targets, and attend war trials."
Hisako and Eiji shrank back a bit. Those "little spats" had nearly killed them a few times.
"You said you were trying to prevent it—how can you do that if it's against rogue Awakened?" Hisako asked.
He sighed, briefly shifting his attention to one of his students who'd gone too hot into a corner and slid out before standing up, hands raised in a thumbs-up.
"Before it becomes a war, before it becomes a little enemy militia, it's just a few rogues who realize they can shove people around with their newfound powers. It's easy to catch them then, but it's also easy to miss them.
"Say someone Awakens in Poland, but then they do a little Trapdooring in the Netherlands. The Poles detect the Door and our Guardians in orange note the attack, but then our rogue wisens up, realizes people are hunting them, and hops over to another country. Rinse and repeat. Same offender, multiple countries. Nobody the wiser.
"Information is only shared when a border is confirmed to have been crossed," Cesco explained. "Information is key. Information lets us on the field do our jobs best, but when we don't even know what to keep an eye out for, we miss things.
"It can take four days for me in Italy to hear about an incident in Spain. That's not good enough. We may be bigger than your Doorkeepers, but we Guardians are by no means better. 'Better' isn't something accomplished by doing things alone."
Hisako nodded slowly. She chewed on her lip, trying to formulate which question to ask him next.
He met her eyes amusedly. "I can only help you so much before I start to share state secrets," he joked dryly.
Hisako frowned.
"Is everyone bound to secrecy?" Eiji asked.
"I can answer that question," Cesco said, smirking. "No, not everyone will stonewall you. However, anyone of high enough rank to know and not suspect ought to keep their mouth shut."
Hisako hadn't been ordered to secrecy, but she was rightfully hesitant to share that Japan was in a confused pinch.
"Your Lieutenant friend will have more luck trading confirmed intelligence," Cesco said. "But that information is pricey, and some people know Japan can't pay that price."
Hisako bristled and glanced at Eiji in surprise. He looked equally caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
Cecso laughed; it felt a bit like he was laughing at them. "Ah, maybe you will understand soon, but Japan has never been too popular at summits. You're at a disadvantage; English is not your language, and you are from a semi-isolationist archipelago far from being neighbors with any of us.
"You are alone, and nobody knows you in a time when nobody trusts strangers."
Hisako frowned. "You trusted us, though, right? And Aniello?"
"Ah, Aniello is… eh, he is Aniello, no? And I don't worry about these things. The privilege of power," he continued, "is to be able to relax where other people worry.
"If you show your power during the Door Hunt, I'm sure people will start to trust Japan more, but… eh, you have the shadow of the past over you. And you must be powerful, of course," he laughed. "Ah, but even if you are new, you were chosen. That means something."
Hisako pasted on a smile, hoping it didn't look as weak and fake as she felt.
When Eiji smiled, it looked genuine. He even added a little laugh. "I guess we'll find out how well Japan stacks up after all these years soon."
Cesco regarded them critically, visually dissecting them before turning back to his riders. "We will, won't we?" He smiled once again, but it felt chilly. "Hopefully you won't disappoint, no? At the very least, be entertaining, please."
Hisako turned away to hide the downturn of her lips that she couldn't hold back. She watched the neon form of Aniello jump along the far side of the track. She wondered what it felt like to be so fast yet so grounded. She soared, could even achieve speeds like his if she was being reckless, but there was rarely solid ground "beneath" her.
She wouldn't be getting much from Cesco, and she figured Aniello had already told her more or less everything he knew or would tell. But people trusted Aniello, and Aniello trusted her. The other parties' initial perception of her wouldn't be based on her actions, but on his trust.
Once the Hunt started, however, she'd be working on her own merit.
Instead of brainstorming more questions, she decided to watch and learn. After a few laps, Cesco whistled, and the riders all stopped once they finished their lap.
Cesco spoke with each of them, one at a time, gesturing around the track in deep conversations for long stretches of time. The other riders idled about as they cooled down, grabbing water and chatting, waiting for a turn to talk with Cesco.
Still dripping from dousing himself with his water bottle, Aniello beckoned them over to meet his peers. They leaned, huddled in a big, sweaty circle, with their gear making them stand stiffly, their arms awkwardly bent unless they got out of their suits. Most did—peeling the thick shell down to their waist to cool down via air or water.
Aniello gestured to each person, rattling off foreign names so fluidly that Hisako didn't know when one ended and the next started, let alone remember. They seemed to be mostly Italian, but not all.
"Did you like to watch the, ehh, race?" one of the women asked. She gestured around the track, struggling to find the words, either for her sake or Hisako's.
"Yes, it was cool."
"Japanese riders are very good, no? You see a race in Japan before?" another praised.
"This was our first time," Hisako replied.
The riders all voiced their surprise; she had to chuckle.
"I promise I'll go to a race when I have free time back home."
"I haven't seen a Japanese rider in ages," Aniello sighed. "I am—eh, the word—jealous of you. It has been a few wars since we've seen one."
The circle tensed, visibly recoiling as the riders shrank back into their outfits, faces dampening. Aniello, though he'd caused the mood, also frowned, and his eyes wandered distantly.
"The wars are a big deal, then?" Eiji asked gently.
Their faces darkened more. Aniello spoke for them: "It is not something to talk about like this. It's a time to move past these things and become better. Besides, Cesco would not want us to worry the visitors about the wars."
"Worry us?" Hisako asked.
Aniello glanced about as he replied, seemingly not reading the room well enough to decline to answer. "There is some, eh, upset about a local issue. Italian issue."
"Aniello!" One of the older students cuffed the back of Aniello's head gently. He hissed more in sharp Italian.
Aniello argued weakly back, more defensive protest than attack.
The older student sighed, then spoke in smooth English. "It would be unfair not to tell you; the Italian Guardians are in the doghouse right now because we have been the latest country to let a growing threat slip through our detection.
"There are active battlefields within the region, and some of the countries have declined to attend this year because of how Italy fumbled this, and the proximity to the fronts."
"So… there is a war now? Nearby?" Hisako asked.
Aniello nodded gravely. "Sorry. I suppose Japan didn't get the news."
"No," Hisako murmured, shaking her head.
She looked to Eiji, who looked similarly concerned and dispirited.
"No," she continued, "I suppose not."
"Nothing to be worried about, though!" Aniello chirped, brightening. "You're the best of Japan, no? Two of you, too. Besides, if anything happens, our whole family is home for the summit."
Hisako couldn't even bring herself to fake a smile to comfort him. She didn't have the heart to tell him they were far from the best of Japan, and admitting that all of Cesco's people were home for the summit while a war was raging nearby didn't scream confidence.
It screamed paranoia.
She looked back at Cesco. He smiled easily, and his student—one covered in mud from repeatedly falling—seemed to be blooming under his guidance, the unease of failure melting into a budding eagerness to try again.
It was as if nothing was wrong, and that worried Hisako the most.