Shiro wasn't worried about him.

Sure, Johann had been recalled to head to Ifran--but that was just how these things went, now. How the gears turned, ever since Shiro had lost the reins entirely and they others been pushed into the field again. It was the natural evolution of the world.

They were moved about all the time. Agents were chess pieces to be sacrified and swapped at will. That was their lot in life. Their purpose. It would be silly to take any of those choices personally. Nothing here was ever supposed to get personal.

So he wasn't worried. He wasn't.

It's just that...well. 

Ifran was where all of the most powerful heroes were. It was the place they controlled most tightly. And it wasn't alone.

On campus, and in the periphery, they would be watching. 

Gabriel Masters would be headed there soon, and his powerful father would certainly be nearby. The Wright son was already deeply embedded in the program, even if they hadn't been able to prove anything about him. Dean Masters may not be a physical threat, but hell if he wasn't a strategic one.

The adversaries would be watching. They would suspect Johann. They would target him.

And they liked to make Johann play the heel, those tempestuous agency heads that pointed at targets and told Shiro to bite. Shiro was fast enough not to need to pretend, but Johann's missions took time. So they made him petulant and snobbish. Told him to wear his privilege like armor. 

It made him "easy to dislike, but difficult to suspect of anything especially meaningful" or whatever they had called it. It would paint a target on his back immediately, even if it was smaller. Johann would be alone to manage the fallout. He would be vulnerable.

Margaret was going to let it all happen.

And what could Shiro do except for watch? He had no power here. No influence. He was a blade that was unsheathed when useful and shackled when not. He was going to watch that little star stroll toward his own doom like it was necessary. Like the plan even made sense.

Shiro slammed his locker closed and pulled his hoodie on over his sweats. 

Johann wouldn't listen, even if he tried. He always did as he was told. Shiro couldn't blame him, exactly, but he could wish it wasn't true. 

Shiro hadn't tried to fight back either. He would be a hypocrite to pretend otherwise. But he had hoped they may. That they could be better than he was.

He was running out of ways to protect them. To protect all of them.

He had been able to, for a time. So exceptional was Shiro Do that no one else ever needed to be sent. A workhorse who left all the other foals to play quietly. It had worked because he made it work. Ruthless and efficient and singular. His father had touted his excellence like a badge of honor. It had satisfied him, once.

But his father was getting greedy. And his plans were getting bigger.

And the others were so much older now.

Shiro left the locker room with an expression too dead for anyone to read into. Expressions were weaknesses, here. He could never be sure that he was actually alone. Shiro had never been able to know that for sure. Not since...

"Ro."

And he wouldn't forget that voice if he lived three lives. Johann spoke the way Shiro thought a choir may. Resonant and full and holy. He wanted to cradle and protect the sanctity of it. He could only stop and blink instead.

"You haven't left?"

Johann eyed him. "He doesn't start until tomorrow."

The epynomous he, Gabriel. 

Gabriel was what Johann could have been if Margaret protected him the way a mother should. He was the kind of bright, uninhibited sunshine that made others shrink away. Shiro wanted to hate him. He wanted to blame him. He found himself unable.

They were all puppets, here. Even the Masters.

"Be careful," Shiro said. Because it was the the thing to say. Not because he was worried. He wasn't worried.

If he told himself that enough, it may eventually be true.

"I'm always careful," Johann said, in the soft way that spoke of doom. 

"You're not," Shiro said. His voice was tight. "But I would like you to be."

He held a little mock finger-phone up to his ears. It was childish, but Johann didn't call him on it.

"Call me if you get in over your head."

Johann seemed pleased. He had to bring that in, expressions were dangerous here. He was supposed to know that already.

"I can handle it, Ro." Shiro let his eyes linger on Johann's golden eyes. Just this once. Just to drink it in. Johann's answering smile was small and as bright as he was. "But if I can't, I'll call."