Prison
Todoh sat in his cell, clad in the stark white of Britannian prison garb. He breathed slowly, meditating in silence—until the footsteps came. Heavy. Purposeful.
He opened his eyes—too late.
The fist hit like a hammer, smashing across his jaw. Blood sprayed from the corner of his mouth. He didn't need to look to know who it was.
"Thomas Arashikage," he growled.
Storm Shadow sneered. "It's Storm Shadow, you old dog."
A vicious kick drove into Todoh's ribs. He gasped, spit tinged red as he doubled over. Storm Shadow's thumb traced the edge of his blade, unsheathing it with a hiss.
"You're set to die, sure—but not by Kururugi. I won't let him have the honor." The blade rose, gleaming in the light. "Your life belongs to me!"
Steel crashed.
Storm Shadow recoiled, blade deflected by Snake Eyes, silent and still like a shadow. The stare between them lasted only seconds before a voice barked from the corridor.
Storm Shadow backed away, silent but seething.
Snake Eyes gave Todoh a respectful nod. Then he too disappeared into the hallway.
From the dark stepped another man—no weapon drawn, no malice in his hands. Just presence.
Cobra Commander.
He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed.
"I've seen Storm Shadow angry," he mused, "but never this hungry for blood. You must've struck a nerve, General."
Todoh wiped blood from his mouth, silent.
Cobra crouched, tossing something onto the floor between them.
An Oceania blade.
"If you'd rather go out with honor, I can be your kaishakunin. Samurai to samurai."
Todoh laughed, dry and bitter. "You know our ways. That earns you credit. But don't mistake knowledge for strength, Commander."
Cobra's smirk curved under his mask. "You samurai love your riddles. But I know your real weakness."
He picked up the dagger, holding it gently. "Go ahead, die at the hands of a kin-killer if you want."
Todoh stiffened.
"What… did you say?"
Cobra turned to the door. "I figured it out. Your secret's safe. After all," his voice dropped cold, "I know something about killing family."
He vanished into the corridor, leaving Todoh with the ghost of old sins.
Museum – Later
Logan—Cobra Commander in civvies—walked the museum halls in a dark trench coat. The blood from earlier was gone. His eyes lingered on one painting: Brutus stabbing Caesar.
Fitting.
"Brother, come look at this!" Euphemia called. Logan sighed, strolling over. Darlton trailed nearby with other security.
She pointed to a serene landscape—Japanese garden, modest home, brush-stroked mountains in the distance.
"It's beautiful," he admitted.
The museum director chimed in, trying too hard: "Regrettably, the artist is one-quarter Eleven."
Euphemia's smile faltered. Logan turned slowly, eyes like daggers behind his mask.
"Why should that matter?"
The director blinked. "I… the nobility—some may take issue with—"
"Do not use numbers in my presence." Logan shifted his coat, letting the glint of a pistol show. "You're supposed to protect culture, not sanitize it for racist aristocrats."
Even Darlton stiffened at the threat.
"Show me real art," Logan said. "Not curated lies."
The director gulped and led them onward.
"This piece may interest you," he said hesitantly, pulling off a cloth to reveal…
The Emperor.
A grand oil painting. Garish. Regal. Lifeless.
Logan stared at it.
Then, with a mechanical hiss, a section of his helmet unlatched. His mouth was visible—just long enough for him to lean forward and spit on the painting.
Gasps. Frozen silence.
He resealed the helmet. "You gonna show me art, or keep polishing a corpse's legacy?"
He walked off without another word.
Outside the Exhibit
"Yo, boss," Firefly appeared, gesturing to a sheet-covered piece. "Got that artwork you wanted. Soon as we're done here, we bounce."
Logan nodded. The sheet came off, revealing the vibrant coils of the Rainbow Serpent—an Aboriginal masterpiece, radiant with spiritual energy.
"It's stunning," Euphemia whispered.
Logan didn't look at her. "When this day's over, it goes home. Where it belongs."
The museum director hesitated. "But the nobles—"
WHUMP.
Firefly punched him square in the gut. The man crumpled.
"Then adapt," Logan said coldly, stepping over him. "You've seen what I support. It better win."
Ashford Academy – That Evening
In the limo:
"The Dreadnoks are planning Todoh's escape," Firefly said. "Your brother wants to use it to win favor. Also—Black Knight remnants are gunning for you."
Bludd added, "Storm Shadow won't like it if Todoh slips out."
Logan slid the door open. "Let him try."
They stepped out.
Ashford Academy rose quietly in the dusk. Logan's eyes locked on a house just beyond the school walls.
"Milly and Lelouch are at the base," Bludd noted. "So why are we here?"
Logan didn't answer. He just walked into the garden.
There sat Nunnally, wheelchair by the blossoms, with Sayoko nearby.
Sayoko bowed. "My lord, we weren't expecting—"
He raised a single gloved finger. Say nothing.
Nunnally turned her head. "Who's there?"
Logan knelt, slowly pulling off his glove. His hand—burned, scarred—gently touched hers.
She gasped. Tears welled.
"Big brother… Logan?"
His voice softened. "Hey, sis."
Without hesitation, she hugged him tight. Sayoko hesitated… then stepped back, sensing no danger.
"I missed you," Nunnally said. "What happened to your hand?"
"An old mistake. I wear the glove… to remember."
She fumbled through her bag, producing a band-aid—cartoon snake pattern. "Let's be boo-boo buddies."
He chuckled. "That's perfect."
Removing his helmet, he sat with her under the trees.
"Tell me everything."
As they talked, Firefly and Bludd leaned on the limo.
"He's still human," Firefly murmured.
"Only with family," Bludd replied.
Night – Military Prison
BOOM.
Explosions rocked the complex. The Dreadnoks were in.
Logan smiled in his chair.
"Stand down. Everyone. Even Arashikage."
He rose, walking calmly to the hangar.
"I'll handle it myself."
Battlefield
Smoke, fire, steel. The Lancelot was pinned, battling Zero and the Four Holy Swords. Todoh, now piloting the Gekka, was closing in for the kill—
Then everything stopped.
Something thundered down from the sky.
A Gundam.
Painted black and cobalt. Radiating power.
Cobra's voice cracked through open comms: "Snake. We meet again."
Nagisa charged. "The Gekka's faster!"
The Gundam sidestepped effortlessly, blade catching hers.
"Speed is nothing," Logan said. "If you lack control."
In seconds, three mechs were downed. Not destroyed. Disabled.
Then came Kallen, silver claw snapping toward him.
"I'll end this!" she screamed.
He grabbed the Guren, spinning her away and sending her skidding.
Todoh attacked—but was intercepted. Another mech appeared.
"Need a hand, Commander?" Firefly's voice rang.
The Zaku joined the fight.
Together, they drove the rebels back.
"Zero," Cobra called. "Retreat. You're outmatched."
Zero's voice cut through. "All units—fall back!"
Logan let them go.
The battlefield quieted.
His comm buzzed.
"Suzaku is to be knighted by Princess Euphemia."
Logan smiled beneath the mask.
"So… the lamb finds her fangs. This war's about to get interesting."
Later – Shinjuku Ghetto
Logan sat in silence as the limo pulled into the ruined district. Baroness raised an eyebrow.
"You sure about this?"
He nodded. "That fight reminded me—I'm mortal. Cobra can't die with me. It must evolve… and maybe…"
He looked out the window.
"…maybe it's time I stopped trying to fix the nobility. And started raising something better."
Inside the crumbling orphanage, ragged children stared. One girl stood out: neat uniform, bandages on her head.
Logan knelt.
"What's your name?"
The girl hesitated. "K-Kycilia Zabi, sir."
"Why are you here?"
"My parents cast me out. I refused to call Japanese people 'Elevens.'"
Baroness gave Logan a look.
He already knew.
He turned back to the girl. "You stood up for what's right. That's rare."
He offered a hand. "How would you like… a second chance? A home. A family."
Kycilia blinked. "But we're not related. You're Britannian. I'm—"
He smiled softly. "Doesn't matter. I'll handle the Emperor."
She took his hand, trembling.
"I'd like that."
He rose, cradling her gently.
"Then welcome… my daughter."
Pause.
"Kycilia Britannia."