TB’s Journal – May 13-14, 2097

 

May 13

No rest for the wicked, right? After the chaos of the last few nights, I’d hoped for a quiet day, but Halo had a private concert for the Hawaiian Royal family and a handful of the island’s elite. The kind of event where everyone pretends to be laid back and easygoing, but the tension beneath the surface could cut glass.

Halo, though—she seemed detached, like her mind was miles away, maybe lost in that endless ocean beyond the islands. Didn’t even seem like she wanted to be there. But the moment she stepped on stage, it was like a switch flipped. She became something else entirely—wind, wave, stone, fire. Four distinct moods, four styles, like the very elements themselves were bowing to her. She tapped into the history of Hawaii, channeling its ancient spirit in a way that left every one of the 200 guests spellbound. It wasn’t just a performance; it was a transformation.

For those lucky enough to witness it, it was an unforgettable night. Halo doesn’t need to put on a show anymore. She is the show.

May 14

We’re on the move again. Early morning flight to Tokyo. No time to really process the last few days—just pack up, board the plane, and go. The ones who’d been on the run with me—Eclipse, Vanya, Fuzzy—we used the flight to rest, catch some sleep. Well-earned, I’d say. But no matter how much we’d like to hit reset, the job doesn’t stop just because we’re tired.

By the time we land, the morning is still fresh in Japan, thanks to the time difference. It’s always a strange thing, arriving in a new city after hours in the air but somehow still stepping into the same day. Accommodations are set at the Hotel Imperial, downtown Tokyo. Top of the line, like everything else on this tour. But the more we do this, the more I feel the weight of it.

There’s danger in routine. You start thinking, “We’ve done this before, we can do it again,” and that’s when you slip. That’s when the principal gets into trouble, or worse. So even though everything feels like it’s clockwork now, I remind myself—and the team—that complacency kills. Tokyo’s no different. We’re here, but our eyes are open. Always.