Osborn Freeman had been to many places in his life, but Japan felt different. The bustling streets of Tokyo, with their neon lights and the hum of a city that never seemed to sleep, were a far cry from the quiet, reflective streets of his hometown. Yet, there was something about the city’s rhythm that felt oddly familiar to him—like he was finally in the right place.
Mari Takahashi, the translator he had requested, was seated beside him on the flight. She was calm and focused, flipping through some documents as Osborn stared out the window, lost in his thoughts.
"So," Osborn began, breaking the silence. "You’ve been to Japan before, right?"
Mari nodded without looking up from her papers. "Yes, I’ve been back a few times. It’s home, after all." She glanced at him with a faint smile. "But
