What truly surprised James was not the situation itself, but who showed up in the end.
Tony Stark.
Out of all people, Tony was the one who personally came to pick them up.
James leaned against the railing, arms crossed, eyes full of mock disbelief.
"I never thought someone with thick eyebrows and big eyes like you would betray the organization too."
"…What nonsense are you talking about?" Tony replied stiffly. "Why does that sound so wrong?"
Tony's face looked awkward, almost stiff, and under James's calm, teasing stare, he felt a strange sense of guilt creeping up his spine.
Alright—fine. He was interested in Egghead's Avengers initiative. Very interested, actually.
But that didn't mean he had officially joined.
At most, there had been private, unspoken cooperation between both sides. Nothing public. Nothing signed.
This time, Tony had stepped forward mainly because Egghead had given him something invaluable—intelligence directly related to his most urgent personal crisis.
A life-or-death problem.
He owed them a favor.
So even if it meant swallowing his pride, he had to come, acting as the intermediary to negotiate Natasha and Hawkeye's release.
"Alright, alright—stop it," James said dramatically, placing a hand over his chest.
"From today onward, our brotherhood ends here. Completely severed."
His tone was heartbreakingly sincere.
Tony's eyelid twitched.
"…Just tell me what you want."
"Let me see J.A.R.V.I.S.'s source code."
The atmosphere froze.
James felt Tony's body stiffen instantly. The next second, Tony shook off his arm with visible disgust and turned around as if ready to leave.
"Forget it," Tony said coldly. "You can keep those two at your place. Pretend I never came today."
"Hey—HEY—don't be like that!" James quickly grabbed his wrist, refusing to let go.
"What are we? Brothers from different fathers and different mothers! How about this—you make a counteroffer first."
Tony tried to pull away.
He failed.
"…Why the hell are you so strong?" Tony muttered.
He had been exercising constantly lately. Even Pepper had praised his improved condition.
And yet, James held him like iron clamps.
"Seeing J.A.R.V.I.S.'s core source code is impossible," Tony finally said, giving up on struggling.
"No looking, no peeking, no touching," James replied casually, arm still hooked around Tony's shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. "But talking? Sharing experiences? That's negotiable."
Truth be told, Tony was no match for James in bargaining.
Tony was born into wealth, protected by privilege.
James had clawed his way upward.
In the field of artificial intelligence, Tony was centuries ahead of the world. Even fragments of his research could accelerate F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s evolution dramatically—possibly even solve Delamain's personality fragmentation entirely.
That was exactly why Tony had always avoided deep AI discussions with James before.
Artificial intelligence was a double-edged sword.
Tony feared that James might accidentally trigger a sentient-machine catastrophe.
But this time, James had cornered him.
In the end, Tony compromised.
He handed over large amounts of J.A.R.V.I.S.'s development notes, iteration records, and conceptual frameworks—not the core code, but close enough to be priceless.
For F.R.I.D.A.Y., this data would take a very long time to fully digest.
As Natasha prepared to leave, James waved reluctantly.
"Come visit often," he said cheerfully. "If things don't work out over there, you can always come back and be my secretary."
Natasha froze for half a second.
Then she smiled—polite, controlled, unreadable.
From a material standpoint, working for Egghead didn't compare to working for James.
But she hadn't joined S.H.I.E.L.D. for money.
Still… the future was uncertain.
Leaving herself a way out wasn't a bad idea.
She neither accepted nor rejected the offer.
A perfect heartbreaker.
Hawkeye, on the other hand, looked terrible.
The anesthetic from the previous night hadn't fully worn off.
If James hadn't administered the antidote in time, his heart might have stopped.
Even now, his legs trembled, his speech slurred, and his thoughts felt wrapped in fog. Without Natasha's support, he likely wouldn't have been able to stand.
As soon as the two disappeared from sight, James pulled out his phone.
"Hello, Miss Pepper?" he said lazily.
"You hired a ghost, you know that? Please get me two new secretaries. Minimum requirements—D-grade or above."
---
A Butterfly Effect
Because of James's existence, Tony received an early warning from Nick Fury.
That single nudge led Tony to re-examine his father's relics—where he discovered a previously overlooked element, allowing him to develop a new generation, pollution-free Arc Reactor.
Tony escaped death.
His heart was saved.
It wasn't that Tony didn't trust James's technology—but for something as vital as his own heart, he preferred to rely on his father's legacy.
Locked away in the lab, Tony vanished from public view.
Stark Industries didn't collapse.
Pepper held the line.
The media suffered.
But the most desperate man of all… was Ivan.
He had gambled everything on revenge.
His money—gone.
His reactor—complete.
His suit—ready.
And now?
Tony had disappeared.
Reduced to scavenging through trash cans, Ivan wandered New York's freezing streets.
Winter there was no kinder than Moscow—especially to the homeless.
His accent made him a target.
His status made him invisible.
Every failed attempt to approach Stark Tower ended with police attention.
Another step closer, and immigration would have given him a "free meal" and a one-way ticket out.
Yes—Ivan was undocumented.
America welcomed everyone.
Except the poor.
Leaning against a garbage bin, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips, Ivan muttered:
"I can't go on like this…"
Revenge meant nothing if he couldn't survive tomorrow.
"I need a job."
According to underground whispers, undocumented workers sometimes found work at Harbor Side Labor Market—where restaurant owners paid cash and asked no questions.
Three meals a day was enough.
---
Taisho Era – Tokyo Prefecture
Iikura. Azabu District.
James had recently moved here.
In this world, he used a local name:
Sakuragi Nuo.
A surname that sounded perfect for basketball—
unfortunately, basketball didn't exist here.
Raised by his grandfather in the countryside, James had originally dismissed rumors of "ghosts" near the village.
Feudal superstition, he thought.
Until he realized these weren't ordinary ghosts.
This world had demons.
Still, that wasn't what bothered him most.
What truly made his stomach twist was—
The blind date.
Before he could enjoy the bustling life of Tokyo, his father had arranged it.
Damn it. I hate arranged marriages.
Then—
"Um… excuse me. Am I late?"
A soft, sweet voice drifted over.
James looked up.
A beautiful girl stood before him—reserved, nervous, radiant.
Light green eyes.
Soft pink hair fading into grass-green tips.
Beauty marks on her flushed cheeks.
Even beneath a simple kimono, her presence was undeniable.
"I'm sorry," she said, bowing again.
"I arrived early," James replied gently. "No need to apologize."
His resentment toward his father vanished instantly.
Dad… I forgive you.
"My name is Nuo," he said. "And you are?"
"Kanroji Mitsuri."
"That's a beautiful name," James said sincerely.
"As beautiful as your hair."
Her eyes lit up.
For the first time, someone had praised her hair without judgment.
"Would you like something to eat?" James asked.
"Yes!!"
She froze.
Then corrected herself shyly.
"I-I mean… just a little."
Minutes later, empty pastry plates filled the table.
Mitsuri ate a lot—but gracefully, beautifully.
Watching her made James smile.
When their fingers brushed over a teacup, Mitsuri's heart raced.
"Careful," James said softly. "It's hot."
She couldn't meet his eyes anymore.
If everything goes well… he'll be my husband.
The thought filled her with nervous excitement.
"Sakura mochi is delicious!" James said casually.
"Sakura mochi? WHERE?"
In an instant, her joy returned.
Watching her eat, James felt something warm bloom in his chest.
This feeling… was nice.
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