The plane began its descent towards London and Kenji watched the clouds scroll past the window. For a long moment, there was nothing but grey, a thick mist hiding everything. Then, suddenly, the city appeared below, spread out like a living map.
Kenji felt his heart beat a little faster. It wasn't noisy excitement, like Daichi's, but something deeper — a calm curiosity, an anticipation. He had read so much about this city. Imagined so much. And now, it was there, real, beneath his eyes.
Daichi, next to him, had his nose pressed to the window. "The Thames!" he exclaimed. "I can see the Thames! And over there, the London Eye!"
Kenji followed his gaze. The big wheel was indeed visible, small from up here, but undeniable. He also noticed other details — the concentration of skyscrapers at Canary Wharf, the dome of St. Paul's, the silhouette of the Tower of London.
'It's exactly like in the photos,' he thought. 'But in real life, it's different. More... alive.'
"Big Ben is further away," he said. "We'll see it better from the ground."
"I can't wait!" Daichi turned to him, eyes sparkling. "Have you seen the size of this city? It's HUGE!"
Mom, behind them, laughed softly. "Daichi, we're not even off the plane yet."
"I know, but I CAN ALREADY SEE IT!"
Kenji smiled discreetly.
The plane continued its descent, crossing through layers of clouds, and London drew closer until details became sharp — the streets, the cars, the people.
Heathrow terminal was a world unto itself. Kenji walked behind his parents, observing everything with that attention he'd had since his youngest age. The signs in English, in Welsh, in several languages. Travelers from all origins. The shops, the cafes, the information screens.
He activated his translation necklace, but deactivated it almost immediately. He understood most announcements without help. English lessons at school, movies, his own reading — all of it had paid off.
'I understand,' he realized with a small satisfaction. 'Not everything, but enough.'
Daichi, for his part, looked everywhere at once, turning his head in all directions. "Kenji, look at that shop! They sell hero stuff!" He stopped in front of a window full of British hero merchandise.
"We don't have time now," said Dad. "We'll see later."
"PROMISE?"
"Promise."
Daichi nodded, but his eyes stayed fixed on the window until they turned the corner of the corridor.
Customs formalities went smoothly. An officer examined their passports, wished them a good stay with a tired smile, and they passed through. Kenji noted the accent — that famous British accent he'd heard so much in media. In real life, it was more subtle, more varied.
A chauffeur waited for them at the exit, holding a sign with their name. The man was called Geoffrey, a Brit in his fifties with a pleasant face. He spoke willingly as he drove them towards London, commenting on the neighborhoods they passed through, giving advice on visits.
Daichi was all ears, asking question after question. "And there, what's that? And over there? The bridge, is it old? And that building, how many floors does it have?"
Geoffrey answered patiently, visibly amused by the boy's enthusiasm.
Kenji looked out the window, recording every image. The streets scrolled by. Modern glass and steel buildings, then rows of red brick houses, identical but different. Double-decker red buses. Black taxis. People walking quickly under a grey but dry sky.
Kenji noticed a man making his phone float ahead of him as he walked — a utility Alter, probably.
A woman with bluish highlights in her hair, like a natural coloring.
A child running, leaving a trail of small sparks behind him.
And a few heroes on patrol, some stopping to chat with passersby.
'Alters are everywhere,' he thought. 'Like in Japan. But presented differently.'
"It's exactly like in the movies!" Daichi exclaimed. "Look, Kenji, it's like we're IN a movie!"
Kenji smiled. "That's the idea."
The hotel was a discreet establishment on a quiet street, near Kensington Gardens. Red bricks, sash windows, a small lobby with a creaking floor. Kenji immediately liked this impression of old, solid, lasting.
Their rooms were on the third floor, adjoining. Kenji put down his bag and approached the window. The street was lined with trees, similar houses, lampposts with an old-fashioned design. A ginger cat crossed the sidewalk calmly. An old lady walked a small dog.
'It's calm,' he thought. 'Peaceful.'
"Kenji!" The door flew open and Daichi entered without knocking. "My room is BIGGER! And I have a view of a garden!"
"Good for you."
Daichi approached the window and looked over Kenji's shoulder. "Your street is ugly. Just houses."
"It's calm."
"Calm = ugly." Daichi patted him on the shoulder. "Come on, let's ask Dad if we can go out!"
Kenji followed him.
The first evening, they dined in a traditional pub, as Geoffrey had advised them. The establishment was called The Prince Albert — a white facade, tinted windows, a warm atmosphere inside. Exposed beams on the ceiling, a fireplace with a burning fire, worn leather banquettes.
Kenji sat down and observed. The clientele was varied — businessmen in suits, students, families. A waitress carried pints of beer with an ease that suggested a stability Alter. A man at the counter read the newspaper while a small glow floated above his shoulder, lighting the pages.
'Useful,' Kenji thought. 'Practical. Alters integrated into daily life.'
Daichi studied the menu with enthusiasm. "Fish and chips, obviously! And steak and ale pie! And chips! And —"
"Daichi," said Mom. "You're not going to eat everything."
"I'LL TRY."
He finally ordered the fish and chips, after long internal deliberation. When theq
"It's HUGE!"
He attacked it with appetite, talking with his mouth full. "It's GOOD! Really good! But different from what I imagined."
Kenji tasted his roast beef. The meat was tender, the gravy rich, the vegetables perfectly cooked. 'Different,' he thought. 'But good. Really good. The gravy has a taste I don't know. Wine, maybe?'
Dad, trying a local beer (lemonade for the kids), observed his sons with that calm look he had. Mom smiled, tired but happy.
"Tomorrow," said Dad, "we visit the Tower of London."
Daichi looked up from his plate. "The Crown Jewels! And the ravens! And the Beefeaters with their hats!"
"You did your research?" asked Kenji.
"I read everything!" Daichi pulled out his phone. "I have photos, want to see?"
Kenji looked at the photos.
The Tower of London awaited them under a grey but dry sky.
From the entrance, Kenji was struck by the thickness of the walls, the mass of the stones. It was a fortress designed to last, to impress, to protect. He placed a hand on a wall, felt the coldness of the stone, imagined the hands that had touched it before him — soldiers, prisoners, kings.
'Nine hundred years,' he thought. 'Almost a thousand. These stones have seen generations born and die.'
Daichi was almost running ahead, stopping at every explanatory sign, reading aloud. "Did you know the Tower was built by William the Conqueror in 1078? And that it served as a prison, a palace, a zoo?"
"I know," said Kenji. "I read."
"But it's NOT THE SAME seeing it!"
Kenji had to admit he was right. Books, photos — nothing replaced reality.
The Beefeater guiding them, a certain Michael, answered Daichi's questions good-naturedly. "And the ravens?" Daichi asked. "Do you really clip their wings?"
"We trim them, yes. So they don't fly away. Legend says that if the ravens leave the Tower, the kingdom will fall."
Daichi nodded gravely. "So you're responsible for the kingdom's safety."
Michael laughed. "You could see it that way."
Kenji observed the ravens — large black birds, intelligent, looking at him with bright eyes. 'They've seen so many things,' he thought. 'The poor things.' a bit sad but moved on.
They saw the Crown Jewels — crowns, scepters, orbs covered in precious stones. Daichi stood gaping at the Imperial State Crown.
"It's... it's..."
"Impressive," said Kenji.
"YES."
Kenji looked at the diamonds, rubies, sapphires catching the light. He thought of the energy this represented — not the energy of the stones, but that of the men who had sought them, cut them, mounted them. Generations of work, greed, power.
"People died for this," Daichi murmured.
"Yes."
"That's horrible."
"Yes."
They stayed silent for a moment, watching the jewels shine before their eyes.
The following days flew by in a steady rhythm, carried by Daichi's energy.
The London Eye, where they rode on a sunny afternoon. Daichi pressed his nose to the capsule's window, identifying every monument aloud. "St Paul's! The Tate Modern! The Shard! Big Ben! I SEE BIG BEN!"
Kenji watched the city spread out beneath them, the roofs, the streets, the parks. He saw thousands of people, living their lives, unaware that a Japanese boy was watching them from above. He spotted a man crossing a bridge floating slightly above the ground — not flight, just a lighter step. A woman whose hair changed color during conversation. An ice cream vendor whose cone never melted.
'Alters are everywhere,' he thought. 'Integrated. Normal. Less strict in their use than in Japan.' he thought, observing people in their daily lives. 'It's fascinating to see how each country integrates them differently.'
Buckingham Palace, where they watched the Changing of the Guard. Daichi took hundreds of photos, commenting on every move. "They're SYNCHRONIZED! It's like a dance!"
Kenji observed the soldiers in red tunics, their perfectly coordinated movements. 'This discipline is a form of Alter,' he thought. 'Without an Alter. Just training.'
Hyde Park, where they rented a boat on the Serpentine. Daichi rowed enthusiastically, splashing everyone. "I'm the CAPTAIN!"
"You're sinking us," said Kenji.
"I'M AN EXCELLENT CAPTAIN."
Mom was laughing while taking lots of photos. Dad sighed with exasperation and amusement. Kenji smiled broadly without realizing it.
He observed the other boats, families picnicking on the grass, children playing. A little girl made her balloon float above her without touching it. A boy ran so fast he seemed almost blurry.
'From the youngest age. They grow up with it, like second nature.' he thought. 'It's better than the omnipresent restrictions in Japan on their use in public.'
The British Museum occupied them for an entire day.
Kenji had looked forward to this with quiet but deep anticipation. Centuries of history, entire civilizations, gathered under one roof. He wandered through the halls with methodical slowness, stopping before each piece that caught his attention.
The Rosetta Stone. Three scripts for the same message. The key that had unlocked hieroglyphs. Kenji stood before it for a long time, thinking about what it represented — years of work, deduction, human intelligence.
'Someone understood,' he thought. 'Someone looked at these unknown signs and knew how to find meaning in them. Like all those who seek to understand.'
"Kenji!" Daichi called him from another hall. "Come see, there are MUMMIES!"
Kenji joined him. The Egyptian mummies were impressive — wrapped bodies, prepared for eternity, with their painted masks and amulets.
"They believed in life after death," said Daichi. "So they prepared their bodies."
"Yes."
"Do you believe in life after death?"
Kenji thought. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it much."
Daichi nodded. "Me neither. But it's interesting."
Later, they came upon the Greek sculptures from the Parthenon. Kenji knew they were controversial — Greece had been demanding their return for years. He looked at these marble figures, these gods and heroes frozen in time.
"They should be at home," said Daichi.
"Maybe."
"But if they were at home, we wouldn't see them."
"That's true."
Daichi thought. "It's complicated."
Kenji smiled. "Yes, very complicated."
On the fifth day, they took the train to Oxford.
Daichi spent the journey with his nose pressed to the window, commenting on the passing scenery. "Look, it's magical."
Kenji looked too, but in silence. The English countryside scrolled by — green, peaceful, dotted with small churches and stone cottages. Sometimes a silhouette floated above a field — an agricultural Alter, speeding up crop growth or moving harvests.
'Alters are in the fields too,' Kenji thought, observing carefully. 'Everywhere. In every aspect of life. It has its charm,' he said quietly without meaning to.
His parents heard him, of course, and his mother had a knowing smile as she watched.
Oxford greeted them with its towers and spires. Kenji had seen photos, but reality was different. The buildings were older, truer. The stone had that patina that only time could give.
"It's OLD," said Daichi. "Really old."
"Hundreds of years," his father remarked.
"People have studied here for hundreds of years?"
"Yes." He nodded.
Daichi looked at the students passing by, books under their arms. "People who changed the world."
"Yes," he said. "Many..."
Kenji observed a student whose books floated behind him in an orderly line. Another whose hair changed color throughout the day. A professor whose voice carried effortlessly in a lecture hall — a sound Alter, like Daichi's, but used for teaching.
"Kenji," said Daichi.
"What?"
"Would you want to study here someday?"
Kenji thought. "Maybe. If my Alter leaves me time."
"I want to be a hero first. But after, maybe. To learn."
Kenji nodded.
On the seventh day, they returned to London and Dad gave them some news.
"Your grandfather has arranged something," he said. "One of his contacts in London is inviting us to dinner tomorrow night."
Daichi immediately straightened up. "WHAT? A HERO?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"MAYBE? IT MIGHT BE A HERO?"
"Daichi, calm down."
"I AM CALM. I AM VERY CALM." He was bouncing in place. "IT'S JUST THAT MAYBE WE'RE GOING TO MEET A HERO."
Kenji smiled.
That night, Kenji sat at his desk, writing in his notebook. As he always did. He had noted his impressions of Oxford, of the British Museum, of the Alters he had observed. He loved this ritual — putting down on paper what he had seen, felt, thought.
Daichi entered without knocking.
"You're writing?"
"I'm noting things."
Daichi sat on the bed. "What are you noting?"
Kenji showed him the notebook.
Day 7 — London
England is different. Closer to us in language, but more distant in history. People use their Alters like at home, but with less ceremony. It's just... normal.
I saw students at Oxford with floating books, professors with amplified voices, children making balloons levitate in parks. Alters are everywhere, integrated, accepted.
The Tower of London made me think about time. About all that time passing, people living and dying, the stones that remain.
The Crown Jewels are magnificent. But Daichi is right — people died for this. It's strange, what people fight for.
The fish and chips was good. The roast too. The gravy had a taste I didn't know.
Tomorrow, we might meet a hero. Daichi is overexcited. Me, I'm curious.
Seven days in England. Seven more to come.
Daichi read in silence. When he finished, he stayed quiet for a moment.
"You wrote that I'm overexcited."
"It's true."
"And that I'm right about the jewels."
"That's true too."
Daichi smiled. "You're weird, Kenji."
"Not weird. Unique."
"Yeah, unique. Your own kind."
Kenji smiled without answering.
Daichi stood up. "Good night."
"Good night."
He left. Kenji stayed for a moment looking at the door.
He looked out the window. London glowed softly in the night — thousands of lights, millions of people, endless stories.
'Six days,' he thought. 'And six more to come.'
He turned off the light and slipped under the covers. Tomorrow would be another day, with other discoveries... 'I'm...' he thought, as sleep overtook him.
He closed his eyes, and London continued to shine, indifferent and magnificent.