Rockman EXE Echoes

by Muphrid

What if Rockman had a foe he couldn't defeat? Could he be a hero when innocent blood marks his failures? Say he was born a human: as a navi, could he be a brother to Netto, a son to Yuuichirou? And if he could be human again, could he still love Roll?

2. Echo

Chapter One: Echo

1

I wish these were battle chips.

Rockman thumbed through the list of titles and glanced down the unending shelves of music files.

There must be some way to make sense of this.

And indeed there was. Just as battle chips had categories, had elements—fire, water, earth, electricity, or neutral—so did music: pop, disco, jazz, techno. But the elements of battle chips made sense; there was no way an Aqua Sword could be associated with the fire element. They were the antitheses of each other. Yet in music, the distinctions between these various categories could blur and crumble altogether. Rockman could handle Pachelbel's Canon played with electric guitars (if Netto had taste in music, Rockman might have recommended it), but did that make it classical or rock- and-roll? Or both?

Speaking of Roll…"Did you find anything, Rockman?" The pink navi carried a stack of files in her arms from her waist to her chin.

That's a lot more than I could find. "I'm not sure it's what you were looking for, Roll-chan."

"What's that? 'Trans-Siberian Orchestra'? Oh no, this is too—"

"Too much, uh, metal? It needs to be more classical for Meiru-chan?"

"Classical? Where did you get that idea?"

"I thought this was for Meiru-chan, for her piano."

"Oh no, this is for—" Her eyes flashed, and her mouth shut like a trap to catch the last word. "…well, this is for…it's for something else."

"What is it for, Roll-chan?"

"Well…"

Rockman had not endured a dilemma of musical taxonomy all for nothing. That would not do at all. "Roll-chan…"

"It's for a date!"

"A date?"

"A date."

"With who?"

"Well, it's for Meiru-chan and…and…"

"And Netto-kun."

"Exactly."

"What is she going to do? Invite him to her house and play music over dinner?"

"Well, I…haven't told her yet."

"You haven't what?"

"I haven't told her yet! I thought it would be a nice surprise."

"Roll-chan…"

"You don't think it's a good idea?"

"I didn't say that, but—"

"You don't think it's a good idea."

"…no."

Roll heaved the stack of files onto an empty shelf and sighed. "Meiru-chan was probably going to find out I spent her money anyway."

That look of dejection wrought a knot in Rockman's gut. Roll was easily excited, to be sure (perhaps too easily excited), but if that excitement fizzled out, it would sap her energy along with it. He had to intervene before she crashed.

"I could talk to Netto-kun when we get home, ask him to…" Just what could he ask him to do? Something like, ' Good morning, Netto-kun. After you go to school today, why don't you take your best friend out on a date?'

If he doesn't tense up and stammer, "Eh? W-with M-meiru-chan?" he'll probably just go back to sleep and think it was a strange dream.

"It's all right, Rockman. I'm sure everything will be all right."

That was Roll for you. Irrepressible Roll.

"Shall we go?" she said. "I guess we don't need to waste anymore time here."

"Yeah, let's go."

Arm in arm, the pair walked to the entrance, bumping into three navis as they entered the store: one with slicing picks for hands, another with plastic explosives for armor, and a third with…a helmet. In fact, he was only a helmet. As navis go, Rockman had seen stranger: giant snakes, programs with drills for arms. But still, the three navis had entered the store with a purpose, and they didn't seem too friendly.

"Welcome." The clerk, a broad-shouldered navi named Sonicman, greeted the new customers without hesitation, but when his eyes met theirs, the speakers in his chest halted abruptly.

Roll tugged on Rockman's arm. "Something wrong?"

But Rockman's attention was on the incident unfolding in the store. Sonicman and the navis argued back and forth about something. The virtual glass of the storefront muffled the outgoing sound; Rockman watched the pantomime, however, as it grew more and more heated. Picks-for-hands flailed with his deadly spikes, and bombs-for-brains slammed his fist into the counter.

This is bad. I have to go in there and settle this.

Rockman pulled the door open, and—

"I'm tired of your lies!" A double-sided pick plunged into Sonicman's chest. He stuttered and choked and collapsed to the floor behind the counter, but Pickman was far from satisfied with this feat. He hacked away at the counter while his cronies bashed and wrecked the shelves. "This store will burn!"

"What have you done?" Rockman cried. "Why did you attack Sonicman?"

"He's a liar," Pickman said. "He wants us to trash his store? We'll trash it. Just you watch."

"I won't! Rockbuster!" He locked his trademark buster onto Pickman. "Stop this. Stop this now!"

"Whirling Pick!" With a mind of their own, Pickman's hands detached from his body and hurled themselves forward in a death spin. Rockman lunged to the dirt. One pick lodged itself in the Rhythm and Blues section. The other clubbed his left shin. Rockman rose to his feet, favoring his leg and brushing away the stray particles of data that used to be his.

"You're not so tough, are you?" Pickman said. His picks returned to him like boomerangs; he was ready to strike again.

"Heart Slash!" The force of a thousand hearts pinned Pickman against the wall; the hearts sank into his chest detonated point-blank, blowing out the wall and catapulting Pickman to the dirt. "That'll teach you to attack Rockman!" Roll said.

But Pickman stumbled to his feet, supporting his weight with the picks. "We're not finished yet! Plasticman!"

"Bombs away!" Before she could think, a taut wire wrapped itself around Roll. The weighted ends circled her three times before the wire ran out.

The weights were bombs. BAM! BAM!

"Roll-chan!" Rockman scrambled to her side; her helmet was melting hot—it singed his gloves with one touch.

"It's all right; I'm okay," she said, but the grimace on her face and the charring on her armor said otherwise. "Look out!"

"Helmet Dive!" Catching sight of the rocket-propelled helmet that careened toward them, Rockman gathered Roll's limp form in his arms and disappeared in smoke and debris. The crater showed no trace of their remains.

"That'll teach you!" Pickman said. He turned back to the store. "What's this? What are you doing?" He marched behind the counter and cleared the navis that had gathered around Sonicman's body. "He doesn't deserve to live. Don't help him! If you help him, I will delete you myself!"

"Roll Arrow!" The arrow skewered Pickman's outstretched pick. The severed hand clunked on the floor, lifeless.

Pickman seethed at the loss of his right pick. "Do you two ever die? Plasticman! Helmetman!"

"Homing Helmet Dive!" A flying helmet, laden with explosives, hurtled toward Rockman and Roll. They ran, but it followed and plowed through the shelves. Rockman blasted it with his buster, but each shot ricocheted off harmlessly. Nothing could alter the helmet's trajectory; it was a missile now—a missile bearing straight for them. If he could do nothing to stop it and nothing to shake it, then Rockman had no other choice. He pulled Roll towards him, closer than they'd ever been, and he turned his back on the homing helmet. He could shield her from the blast.

"Rockman…"

He wanted to meet her gaze; after all, it could be the last time. Or he could've glanced over his shoulder at the incoming bomb and stared in the eyes of fate itself. Instead, he looked at the counter, where Sonicman had been.

But Sonicman wasn't there anymore. Someone else was there. She was tall. She wore white: a silky dress with green gloves. And green hair—the color of ferns, it flowed straight and smooth. But for all her beauty, her expression was stolid. She thrust her arm forward, as if to halt the bomb in its tracks.

"Mach Burst!"

The shockwaves emanated from her fingertips and propelled themselves forward, a rippling wave of energy. The blast knocked out the windows and toppled the walls, but Rockman's grip held. Even as debris and shrapnel cut at his back, he held. He held for Roll.

And it was quiet.

"Ahh, help me! Oh, my God, help me!"

"Rockman? Rockman, are you all right?"

"My ball! Where is my ball?"

Rockman ignored the voices. He looked at the register. The white navi leapt over the counter and knelt beside Pickman, who lay motionless on the floor.

"Who…who are you?" he said.

"Be quiet."

"What?"

Her hand morphed into a pick. "Be quiet!" In a single swing, the white navi impaled Pickman on the tip of his own pickaxe.

No, wait! Who are you? Rockman lunged forward, on his feet, but his legs gave way under his weight. He collapsed.

The white navi walked out of the store, alive and intact.

And in a million pieces.

—

"NETTO-KUN, WAKE UP!"

Errant sheets whipped through the air as Hikari Netto tossed and turned in bed. "Rockman! You don't have to be so loud!"

"IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T—"

"That's still loud!"

"Oops," Rockman whispered, but with the volume on its highest setting, it was a deafening whisper all the same. "Sorry, Netto-kun, but you should really wake up now."

"What time is it?"

"Time for school."

"Fine, fine." Netto yawned and rubbed his eyes. "How late will I be?"

"Not terribly if you hurry."

"Good enough." As pajamas soared across the room, Rockman took to sorting Netto's files. Three homework assignments—one for history (the naval battles of the Pacific in World War II; this one was the most complete, as Netto could instantly relate to any kind of battle, even if it wasn't net-battling), one for math (square roots and exponents; Netto had felt accomplished just to work one problem), and one for science (classification of rocks; fairly dull, but easy enough that even Netto couldn't fail…much).

"You should finish your homework before you go to bed, Netto-kun."

"I know, I know, but I was worried about my navi first."

This point Rockman could not begrudge him. In the aftermath of the music store battle, Netto rushed Rockman to the Science Labs, where Papa could fix him up post-haste. And indeed, Rockman could scarcely find a loose chunk of data on his person. It helps to have a great scientist for a father, doesn't it?

"You could have done homework while we were at the Science Labs," Rockman said.

"But, but…they're working on so many new things there! Meijin-san is creating a new Synchro Chip, you know."

"What is Papa working on?"

Netto blinked. "I don't know." He picked up his backpack and strapped the Link PET to his arm as usual. His navi shimmered to life, standing on his shoulder as miniature projection.

"Papa's not home a lot."

"Papa's got important work to do, Rockman. Don't worry."

I can try not to worry, but I will anyway. Rockman dropped the point, though, and went back to indexing. A tidy PET is a good PET, after all, and since Netto led a naturally cluttered life, it was only fitting that Rockman be there to clean up his messes. That much was the life and duty of a navi.

Hmm? What's this? This wasn't here before. "Netto-kun?"

"What is it, Rockman?"

"Do you know what 'Saito BAT' is?"

Netto hit the pavement and strode forward on his skates. "Saito BAT? What's that?"

"I found it in the PET. It wasn't there before."

"How did it get there?"

"I think Papa must have put it there."

"Must be a mistake. I think we can just delete it."

"I'm not so sure. Do you think it would be a good idea to drop by the Science Labs and see Papa about it?"

"We could just call."

"Would he answer?"

"Well…no."

"So we drop by after school."

"If you think so, Rockman."

"I think so."

"All right then." Netto looked ahead, where a redhead coasted on her scooter. "Meiru-chan! Meiru-chan, wait for me!"

"Netto, you're late. Again."

"I'm sorry. Rockman didn't get me up on time."

"I heard him wake you up from my house."

"…really?"

"Really."

Rockman disregarded the morning banter between the operators. "Good morning, Roll-chan."

"Good morning, Rockman!"

Rockman glanced past Roll, where another navi sat. "Good morning, Imi-chan."

2

"Ugh! Careful, Roll-chan!"

"I'm trying to be careful! Hold still!"

Rockman sat on the street as Roll massaged his back. One by one, she closed his wounds, but no doubt he had lost a lot of data from the blast. The data floated in the air as glowing particles and enveloped the ruined music store in a blue haze. The other navis from the store, the customers, lined up for treatment.

Where did she go?

Rockman studied the bystanders. Cardman, a walking house of cards (with holes from the blast), and his friend Rouletteman, who complained about having lost his roulette ball in the store somewhere. Another navi was covered in labyrinthine lines and designs; he was Mazeman. Another navi, a solid point of rock from head to toe, was Slateman. And then…

"It's Grove!"

Roll tightened her grip on his shoulder. "Don't move, Rockman! You're still hurt."

Roll-chan acts a bit strange when we see Grove, doesn't she?

From across the street, the purple navi limped toward Rockman and Roll. Her lavender petals—on her arms and head—were tattered and bent, but she paid them no heed. "That was very brave of you, Rockman, Roll-chan. Thank you for protecting us."

"You're injured, Grove," Rockman said. "You should get some help."

"I'll manage. It is a small price to pay for trying to save Sonicman."

"He was deleted?"

"I haven't seen him. I can't see how he could've lived."

A beat.

"Well, I should get back to Egami-san," Grove said. "Will either of you be dropping by Saloma's anytime soon? I'm sure Egami-san will be grateful for your bravery here."

With Roll conspicuously quiet, Rockman said, "That'd be very nice of her, thank you."

Grove nodded and departed.

"Is something wrong, Roll-chan?"

"Nothing. I think you can move now."

Though Roll eased him up, Rockman wavered on his feet, his legs unsteady. But it was passable; this would do long enough to get to Papa—

Step, slip, stumble, fall. Roll grabbed him by the waist, and Rockman's face came perilously close to meeting the pavement.

"Are you all right?"

But the voice was not Roll's. It was higher…and nearer. Rockman looked up from his slumped position and saw a little girl. A little girl navi. "Who are you?" he said.

"My name is Imi. I was…I was…"

"You were in the store?" Roll said.

"Yes."

Rockman regained his footing. She was so small. "It's amazing you weren't hurt."

"I'm…lucky that way."

"I guess so." Rockman frowned. There's something off about this girl. "I wouldn't stay here for long, Imi-chan. You should go back to your operator as soon as you can."

"My operator?"

"You don't have an operator?" Roll said.

"Not anymore."

"That's crazy! You're way too small to be an independent navi!"

"I…I manage."

"You can't manage! You're coming with me, Imi-chan. You can stay with Meiru-chan and me while we find you a new operator." Roll reached to take Imi by the wrist, but Imi recoiled.

"Please, please don't touch me." The little navi crept back once Roll retracted her hand, but she maintained her distance, never within an arm's reach.

"Did someone hurt you, Imi-chan? Did someone abuse you?"

"No, no! That's not it at all!"

Rockman intervened. "Imi-chan, if there's some way we can help, we'd like to."

The girl with the cone-shaped hat looked at them—no, looked through them. "I…I suppose—"

"Good, let's go, then. Meiru-chan—" Roll snuck her hand between Imi's fingers, but yet again, the girl sprung back in fright, lest any physical contact be made.

As the three of them walked, limped, and stumbled away from the disaster, Roll leaned next to Rockman. "What could be so terrible," she said, "that she doesn't want anyone to touch her?"

—

"Meiru-chan! Meiru-chan, it's time to wake up!"

Unlike Hikari Netto, Sakurai Meiru responded promptly to her navi's wake-up call. "Good morning, Roll."

"Good morning, Meiru-chan!"

Meiru glanced at the desk, where Roll's hologram—and another's—were projected. It was the other she was interested in. "She's still asleep?"

Roll nodded.

"She's a bit strange, isn't she?"

"Don't say that! She might hear you!"

"She's asleep."

"I know, but still! It's just that there's something wrong with her."

Meiru grinned. "You like being the mother navi figure, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Meiru-chan."

"Roll, you do, don't you?"

She glanced at Imi, who was indeed still asleep. "Yes…"

"I can tell. You seemed to enjoy having Trill around so much."

Indeed, taking care of Trill had been a joy for Roll. Granted, he'd been a bit of a puzzle, and protecting him proved no easy task, but he was adorable.

Not to mention it was convenient for her to be a mother figure to the little tyke while Rockman was the father figure. Granted, he might have had a bit more influence with the rascal, but surely no one could call themselves Trill's mother figure any more than Roll.

Well, let's just forget about Iris for a moment.

At any rate, Trill was adorable. Adorable didn't fit for Imi. All last night, Imi had resisted and evaded any hint of a touch—from Roll, from Rush, from Rockman. Maybe otherwise she would've been adorable, but as it stood, Imi troubled Roll. Just what happened to the poor girl?

"Huh? Is something happening?" Imi sat up and collected herself, albeit slowly.

"Nothing's happening, Imi-chan. Good morning."

"Good morning."

Even with her words she is distant.

"What's going to happen today?"

"Today, Meiru-chan is going to school."

"To school?"

"Do you know what school is, Imi-chan?"

"I know what school is."

Okay, she knows what school is. "Did your last operator go to school, too?"

"Can we not talk about that, Roll-san?"

"Sure, Imi-chan. Sure."

Meiru waited with one foot on her scooter outside her home, gazing at Netto's window.

"Netto-kun, wake up!"

Meiru groaned. "He's not waking up now, is he?"

A muffled response.

"In case you haven't—"

"What's going on?" Imi asked.

"Rockman is waking up his operator," Roll said.

"It's loud enough that we can hear it from here, on the street?"

Meiru rolled her eyes. "Netto is a heavy sleeper. Some things never change. I'm going to get started. He can catch up if he cares to."

Imi frowned. "Is Meiru-san upset?" she asked Roll.

"A little. Meiru-chan cares a great deal about Netto-kun."

"If she cares, then why is she upset?" Imi said.

"It's because she cares that she's upset."

Imi shook her head. "But that doesn't make sense! If she cares about him, she shouldn't be upset! She shouldn't!"

Meiru and Roll stared at Imi, who bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I got a little excited."

Roll was quick to comfort the girl. "It's all right, Imi-chan, we—" But once again Imi rebuffed her touch, leaning away from Roll's outstretched hand.

"Imi-chan…"

"Meiru-chan! Meiru-chan, wait for me!"

As Meiru and Netto greeted each other (and not on the friendliest of terms), Rockman bade good morning to Roll and Imi. Given Imi's disinterest and Roll's concern, he picked up right away what the trouble was.

"Imi-chan, are you looking forward to school today?" Rockman asked her.

"I think I might go back to Internet City."

"What?" Roll said. "Imi-chan, you shouldn't. It could be dangerous! Remember yesterday?"

For the first time that morning, Imi smiled. "Don't worry, Roll-san. I'll be fine." With that, she dissolved and vanished.

—

Roll was trying; Imi knew that much. Imi couldn't blame her for trying, and she desperately sought her comfort, her protection. Not necessarily hers; anyone would do. But Roll seemed genuine enough. Maybe, if she touched Roll, her inner voice would be as calm and soothing as her real one.

No! No no no, she couldn't afford to give in to that temptation. There was far too much risk. Everyone she had met, everyone she had known, turned out to be crooked and twisted inside. Even Roll-san has a dark side. We all do, don't we? I do.

On the streets of Internet City, Imi sat. She sat for hours, across the street from the music store, its ruins cordoned off in cautionary tape. The remnants of songs and symphonies lay in pieces, in discontinuous fragments that wouldn't play. They were no longer music; they were noise.

Noise like my mind's noise.

She shook as the noise intensified. It rose like floodwater and threatened to sweep her away in its torrent, but she resisted; she grasped her only thread of conscious thought and clasped it firmly. I am Imi. I am Imi and no one else.

But the voices--warped, demented, and confused—escalated in volume. They berated her. 'You're weak!' 'You're a monster!' 'Let me go!'

This was a mistake. I can't focus here; there's no one to keep me anchored.

"Are you all right?"

Just stop! Just stop talking! Why don't you all stop?

Touch. A hand, a white, gloved hand shook her and roused her. "Are you all right?"

The voice…the voice was so familiar. Wasn't it from her mind? How could it be real? Imi turned to face Cardman and his body of 52 cards, stacked and arranged in the form of a great cliff-side villa.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" asked Cardman.

"Yes, you do."

—

"Hold his feet!"

Cardman grabbed Sonicman's limp legs and steadied them. "What are you going to do?"

The eggplant navi extended her vines into Sonicman's wound. "The power of the earth can heal him…"

—

"From there, right?"

"Yes."

"I don't understand it," Cardman said. "We should've saved him. We were saving him. It wasn't that bad."

"No, it wasn't."

"A terrible shame. It was so senseless."

"Not really."

Cardman huffed. "Well, I have errands to run. Do you…need something? I've got time."

"No, you don't."

"Is that right. Fine by me. Take care of yourself, kid. And here, why don't you take these?"

Cardman produced two playing cards—a pair of aces—and gave them to Imi.

"What for?"

"For when you need an ace in the hole. Or two."

Imi eyed Cardman as took a turn down an alleyway. It was a shortcut to the bank he took often. It was a long shortcut, and there were seldom other navis there. She knew this because he knew.

'Imi, don't. There's been enough killing, please!'

You can't help me anymore, Masuyo-chan! I have to silence them. I have to silence them all. It wasn't good enough just to silence him.

She followed him into the alleyway. It didn't take him long to notice. "There something you want?"

"You tried to be nice to me."

"I like to think I was nice to you. If I wasn't--"

"You're not really a nice navi."

"I'm not?"

"No, you're not." She took a step. "You say mean things to me."

"When did I—"

"You're doing it right now. You're calling me an evil little girl. A devil girl. A demon. You're telling me I should 'rot in the flames of hell and never see the light of day again.' You don't like being here. You don't like me."

"Being where?"

She tapped her temple. "Here."

"Uh-huh." Cardman turned around and continued on his way. "I'll be going now."

A deeper, womanly voice answered him. "No, you won't."

3

Hikari Yuuichirou-hakase was accustomed to long hours in the lab. Indeed, the Science Labs had become his home, bumping his two-story house in town to home-away-from-home status. Yuuichirou's staff had even cleaned out a janitor's closet to setup a makeshift bedroom for him.

Whether they did this out of loyalty to him or to poke fun at his workaholic habits was another story.

And recent days had only increased his workload. Under other circumstances, this might have stressed him to the limit. There was only so much work his superiors could slap on his plate without him breaking. He had a wife, after all (lest she be forgotten). A son, too. One son. A single, solitary son. Admittedly, he saw his son on a regular basis, as the work of a Net Savior is never done.

Seeing your son on a "regular basis" doesn't mean you see him in a meaningful context, though. In a way, it was worse than not seeing him at all. There was still the illusion that all was right with the world. They could forget that Yuuichirou was never home, that Haruka stayed up at night, every night, waiting for him to return to her, or that Netto needed a father who could do more than offer him a nifty new trick like a Style Change or a Soul Unison or Cross Fusion.

For now, however, Yuuichirou was content with forgetting. This was not a project handed to him by the powers-that-be. This was his project; this was his baby. This was the project that would make the Hikari household a family again.

And the key lay behind the curtain. The curtain obscured a cylindrical tank. When Yuuichrio was frustrated or needed inspiration, he pulled the curtain back and laid eyes on his second son—no, his first son.

It'd taken years for the technology to catch up, and they were long years, painful years. They were years when Yuuichirou wished he could see double, if only for a moment. After a decade of that waiting, Yuuichirou's hope dried up. He decided to give his son the only life he could.

He was Hikari Saito no more. He was Rockman EXE.

And yet, Yuuichirou's plan turned out more than successful. Netto and Rockman shared a bond far deeper than most operators and navis ever could. Together, they were without limits. They had defeated great evils of the cyber world and defended humanity dozens of times. They were invincible.

But at the end of the day, they were still operator and navi. They were brothers-in-arms, but not brothers as they should have been, as they were meant to be.

But Yuuichirou had the tools to change that. One was the boy in the tank. That was the easy part. Take some DNA, throw in some time warps to accelerate growth (it worked for Barrel, after all), and presto! You have yourself an age-appropriate clone.

The other was Saito BAT. That was the hard part. Drawing up a program to emulate the projected behavior of a person? No problem. Trying to drive a human body with a program? That could take some doing. At the very least, it would require some…finagling.

This was one of the days where the finagling was elusive, especially in light of recent events. Rockman sustained serious damage in the music store attack; Yuuichirou put everything on hold to repair him.

God forbid I lose my son for a second time.

But that had always been a risk. Ever since he sent Netto the disc with Rockman's program, it had been a risk. And for every time they'd saved the world, there were a thousand others where they'd sat on the brink of death or deletion or both.

That was the irony of Yuuichirou's choice. Had he never resurrected Saito as Rockman, Netto would have lived a safe, happy life. Or, perhaps, the world would've been destroyed a dozen times over by now.

There's no second-guessing the past.

But he could certainly second-guess the future. His son deserved to live. It was just a matter of how to pull it off. Searching for inspiration, Yuuichirou pulled back the curtain and spoke to his son. "Talk to me, Saito. Tell me…how can I make you breathe again?"

"Papa?"

And then he shut the curtain (and ripped the cloth in the process, which nearly rendered it useless) and spun around to face the stairwell, where Netto stood.

"What are you doing, Papa?"

"I'm working, Netto. Who sent you here?"

"Your staff…"

"This is a classified lab. No one is supposed to come in without clearance."

"I don't have clearance?"

Yuuichirou sighed. He removed his glasses and wiped his face, but his fingers tripped on his stubble. "What brings you back to the lab so soon? Did my repair hold?"

"Yes, Papa," Rockman said. "I feel great; thank you."

The professor flinched.

"What's wrong, Papa?" Netto said.

"Nothing," he said, dismissing his uneasiness with a chuckle. "Nothing at all. What's the trouble then?"

"Well, this morning, I found a strange file in the PET," Rockman said.

"Oh?"

"It's called 'Saito BAT.' Do you know what this is?"

Do I know what it is? DO I KNOW WHAT IT IS? "Th-that's very strange," Yuuichirou said.

"I thought so, too," Rockman said.

"I'll delete it right away. I must have downloaded it into the PET by accident."

"Oh, so it's something you're working on?" Netto asked.

"You might say that." In no time, Yuuichirou cleared the PET of the offending file. Internally, he berated himself for his carelessness. Was he really so exhausted that he could make such a grievous mistake? There's no telling what could happen if they had run it; it's not even finished yet…

Satisfied, Netto sprang up the steps, back the way he came. "See you for dinner tonight, Papa?"

"Not tonight, Netto."

"I see."

—

After that debacle, Yuuichirou needed a drink. Not alcohol; something that would make him alert and aware. Hot coffee. Hot coffee would do the trick. He found a fresh pot in the break room and poured a whole cup down his throat, all in one gulp.

If that kind of burn didn't keep him awake, nothing would.

When he left the break room, he headed straight for the infirmary, where the nurse cautioned him against abusing hot drinks. The last thing he wanted as an esophageal ulcer.

At last, Yuuichirou returned to his lab, only to find a strange, lanky man admiring the naked body of his cloned son.

"Quite impressive, Hikari-hakase."

"Doesn't anybody respect a classified lab anymore?" Yuuichirou remarked. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"My name is Nakamura Hideki."

"Nakamura-hakase?" Yuuichirou left the staircase and met the professor on level ground. "I've been meaning to meet you. Your work is intriguing."

"I've been meaning to meet you as well. Your work is even more intriguing."

Yuuichirou raised an eyebrow. Worse yet, he was still facing Saito's clone body as it floated in the cylindrical tank. He closed the curtain. "What do you know about Saito?"

"Enough to know that my expertise could be valuable to you."

"And in return?"

"You're trying to save your son, aren't you?"

"I am."

"And I'm trying to save my daughter. Can you do that for me?"

Another body? Here? One was—it would seem—hard enough to hide, but two?

But Yuuichirou glanced at the curtain. His boy wouldn't live without help, not anytime soon anyway. And he and this Nakamura had something in common.

"What's her name?" Yuuichirou said.

"Excuse me?"

"On the tank, I wrote my son's name. His name is Saito. What should I write on her tank?"

Nakamura nodded. "Masuyo. Nakamura Masuyo."

"Hikari-hakase!"

"This is a classified lab. Are you classified? No? Then get—"

"Hakase! There's an injured navi here. He needs your help!"

4

"What have we got?"

"The navi's name is Cardman. He was attacked in Internet City."

Yuuichirou pulled up to the repair console, where Cardman's image lay before him. Holes riddled Cardman's body; his cards bent and tore with every breath. His wounds shed loose data into the air, which surrounded him in a cloud of blue smoke.

The professor shuddered at the sight. "Somebody did all this? Without chips? It's amazing he even made it this far."

An alert popped up on the screen.

"What's this?" Yuuichirou pressed some keys, changing the view to that of a security monitor. At the bottom of the screen was the repair console. Above it, four layers of protection—firewalls—separated the console from the outside net.

At least, there should have been four. At that moment there were three.

"You! Get some help; we have a security breach." The assistant flinched. "Quickly!" Yuuichirou said. The assistant nodded and dashed out of the room.

With that, Yuuichirou buckled down. He cut the repair console off from the net; hopefully no other navis would need immediate attention today. Still, if someone wanted to, they could do all manner of unpleasant things to the Science Labs. They could seal the doors and shut off the air; they could cycle the power—

Off, off, off. The lights cut out, the console went blank, and each passing second meant Cardman's unstable data could fly apart completely.

On, on, on. The backup generators kicked in, and the console rebooted.

With all connections set to on.

Where were the plugs? Where were the wires? He could yank them out, right? But no, no, wireless is the way to go these days. Wireless is so much more convenient…

Never underestimate the convenience of pulling the plug.

Finally, back to business. Cardman survived the reboot; that was good. One firewall left; that was not so good. Yuuichirou mashed the buttons on the console. If he could just cut off the net before the last firewall fell…

Click. He jumped in the air and pumped his fists. "There! Got it!"

But the thin red line that represented the last firewall faded. So did Yuuichirou's smirk of triumph.

The professor sank in his chair. "I'm sorry, Cardman."

"Don't be sorry yet, Papa! Plug-in, Rockman EXE! Transmission!"

Rockman materialized inside the repair console, where Cardman lay on the recovery table. And next to the injured navi stood his pursuer.

"You!"

There she was, standing before him. The white navi, beautiful and deadly.

"Who are you?" Rockman said. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to delete him. He won't be silent."

"No one's getting deleted today!" Netto cried. "Battle Chip: Paladin Sword, slot-in!"

Rockman leapt high, his arm transforming into the deadly diamond-shaped blade of the Paladin Sword, and as he fell, he channeled all his momentum into the swing.

But the white navi raised her arm to shield herself, wielding a Paladin Sword of her own! Sword met sword, and neither blade budged.

"How is that possible?" Netto said. "Did her operator slot-in a Paladin Sword, too?"

"I have no operator!" With her free hand, the white navi pushed back against Rockman's attack, knocking him away. "Mach Burst!"

"Netto-kun—"

"Battle Chip: Area Steal, slot-in!"

The smoke cleared with no trace of Rockman. The white navi walked back to Cardman's bedside. "You won't cloud my thoughts anymore."

"What did I ever do to you?"

"You touched me." Arm high, she reproduced the Paladin Sword and lifted it to strike…

Pew! Pew! Pew! Three pink bursts struck the white navi. Rockman stepped forward, his buster set on her. "Cardman is innocent in all this! Leave him alone!"

"Hmph." The white navi vanished.

Netto frowned. "Huh? Where did she go?"

"Netto-kun, I think she copied the Area Steal!"

"Which means—"

"I'm right behind you. Whirling Pick!" The white navi's green, gloved hands turned into a pair of pickaxes, clubbing and slashing at Rockman. Though he could duck and dodge the spinning points of death, they homed in on him no matter how he maneuvered.

"I've had enough of this!" Netto said. "Battle Chip: Cannon, slot-in!"

The cannon sniped at the pair of picks and knocked them out of the sky. The white navi's hands reformed though, good as new.

"Time to finish this!" Netto pulled from his collection of chips a very familiar trio. "Program Advance! Battle Chip: Spread Gun, triple slot-in!"

The two Spread Guns consumed Rockman's hands. He raised the twin barrels over his head as the third took effect. "Hyper Burst!"

A single beam of brilliant light hurtled toward the white navi and split into a thousand shards.

And the thousand shards collided with another thousand shards; they canceled each other out, and the great light dimmed to nothing.

The white navi held in her hands the Spread Guns of a Hyper Burst as well.

"Impossible!" Netto said. "She can copy a program advance, too?"

"I am what I was made to be," said the white navi. "I'm only doing what I was programmed to do."

"I will protect Cardman from you, no matter what!" Rockman said.

"Ah, but where is Cardman?" The white navi stepped aside, revealing Cardman's table.

She was between Rockman and Cardman. She had a clear shot, and there was nothing Rockman or Netto could do.

A pair of playing cards appeared in the white navi's hands. "Pocket Aces!" Spade and club speared Cardman; they sucked his life away, and his data scattered in the virtual breeze.

Cardman was deleted.

"It's quieter now."

"She's reconnecting the console to the net," Yuuichirou said, fighting her with every keystroke. "She's getting away!"

"Soon it will all be silent again."

"Stop!" Rockman said. "Who are you?"

She vanished, but her voice remained. It reverberated throughout the cyberworld and filled every crevice with its ghastly sound.

"I am Echo."