Another world Game Developers in Japan`s 1991

Monday, 11 November 2001.

ZAGE Tower, Japan.

The moment Zaboru received confirmation that an aircraft had struck the World Trade Center, every remaining doubt disappeared.

For several seconds, he sat completely still with the secure phone pressed against his ear. The voice on the other side continued reporting fires, structural damage, mass casualties, and complete confusion across New York.

Zaboru closed his eyes.

He had failed to prevent it.

He had sent warnings, ordered quiet investigations, and tried to prepare without exposing knowledge he could never explain, but the attack had still happened.

The guilt struck hard.

However, Zaboru refused to remain frozen inside it.

"If I couldn't prevent it," he thought, rising from his chair, "then I'll help save whoever is still alive."

He immediately contacted the ZAGE Foundation's international emergency command centre.

"Activate the American Rescue Division," Zaboru ordered. "Full deployment. New York City, World Trade Center. Send everything available."

The employee on the other side hesitated for less than a second before answering, "Understood."

The ZAGE Rescue Division had been created several years earlier after the Kobe earthquake. That disaster had taught Zaboru that large corporations possessed resources governments and ordinary charities could not always mobilise quickly enough during the first critical hours of an emergency.

ZAGE owned aircraft, heavy vehicles, warehouses, hospitals, communication systems, construction equipment, and offices across the world.

Allowing all of that to remain unused during a catastrophe would have been unforgivable.

Because of that, every major ZAGE branch maintained its own emergency-response division through the ZAGE Foundation. These teams were trained for earthquakes, floods, fires, building collapses, transportation accidents, and large public disasters.

They were not soldiers.

They were rescue specialists, doctors, engineers, pilots, firefighters, logistics workers, and volunteers trained to support official emergency services without replacing them.

The American division had bases near several major cities, including New York.

Within minutes of Zaboru's order, alarms activated inside ZAGE Foundation facilities across the region.

Rescue workers stopped whatever they were doing and moved immediately.

Helicopters were prepared with medical equipment, thermal cameras, portable lighting, breathing masks, cutting tools, and emergency supplies. Heavy trucks were loaded with water, food, blankets, medicine, generators, protective equipment, and mobile communication systems.

Several vehicles carried construction tools capable of cutting through steel and lifting collapsed concrete. Others functioned as mobile clinics, complete with doctors, blood supplies, oxygen tanks, and emergency surgical equipment.

Zaboru contacted the leader of the American Rescue Division directly.

"Coordinate with the New York Fire Department, police, hospitals, and federal authorities," he instructed. "Do not interfere with their command. Support them."

"Yes, sir."

"Prioritise survivors and injured emergency personnel. Bring every doctor and rescue engineer we can spare."

"Understood."

"And prepare long-term supply lines. This will not end today."

The response leader became more serious. "We're moving now."

Zaboru ended the call and immediately contacted ZAGE's aviation department.

"Prepare my fastest jet."

The pilot on duty sounded startled. "For New York?"

"Yes."

"Sir, American airspace may become restricted."

"File emergency humanitarian clearance through every channel we have. Use the ZAGE Foundation, American branch, embassy contacts, and federal authorities."

"That may take time."

"Then start now."

Zaboru moved through his office quickly, gathering his Black Berry, jacket, identification, and several secure documents. His staff attempted to slow him down long enough to explain that flying toward the site of an active terrorist attack was dangerous.

Zaboru ignored them.

He did not care that the victims were American rather than Japanese.

Nationality meant nothing to the people trapped beneath collapsed walls or burning inside office floors. A dying person did not become less worthy of help because their passport carried a different symbol.

Zaboru had money.

He had aircraft.

He had medicine, technology, rescue workers, and influence.

More importantly, he had the ability to act.

What was the purpose of possessing all that power if he remained safely inside his office while ordinary people died?

He called Ayumi before leaving.

She answered immediately. "Zabo?"

"Ayumi, I'm going to America."

There was silence on the other side.

She had already seen the breaking news.

"You're going to New York," she said quietly.

"Yes."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Yes."

Zaboru did not lie to her.

Ayumi released a slow breath. "Do you have to go personally?"

"No."

That answer surprised her.

Zaboru continued, "But I want to."

Ayumi understood immediately.

He had spent weeks carrying a fear he could not explain completely. Now that fear had become reality. Remaining in Japan would leave him feeling helpless while others acted in his name.

"Be careful," she whispered.

"I will."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

Ayumi remained quiet for a moment before saying, "Help as many people as you can."

Zaboru's expression softened. "I will."

By the time he left ZAGE Tower, the first American rescue teams were already moving toward Lower Manhattan.

World Trade Center, New York City.

The streets surrounding the towers had become nearly impossible to recognise.

Smoke covered the sky.

Broken glass, twisted metal, paper, and debris filled the roads. Fire engines, ambulances, police vehicles, military trucks, and private cars crowded every available route.

Emergency workers moved through the chaos while thousands of civilians attempted to escape the area.

News crews had gathered behind the police lines, reporting through smoke and noise.

CNN reporter Linda Carter stood several streets away with one hand pressed against her earpiece. Her hair and clothing were already covered in ash drifting through the air.

She looked toward the camera and spoke as steadily as she could.

"This is Linda Carter reporting live from Lower Manhattan. It has now been approximately thirty minutes since an aircraft struck the World Trade Center. Firefighters, police officers, medical personnel, and federal emergency teams are working desperately to reach those still trapped inside and around the towers."

Behind her, firefighters ran toward the damaged buildings while paramedics carried injured civilians toward temporary treatment areas.

Linda continued, "The full number of casualties remains unknown. Hospitals across New York are preparing for a massive number of patients, and authorities are asking residents to remain away from the area."

A producer suddenly spoke through her earpiece.

Linda paused.

"What?"

She turned toward the distant sound of helicopters.

At first, she assumed they belonged to the military or police.

Then several aircraft emerged through the smoke.

Large letters were visible along their sides.

ZAGE FOUNDATION – RESCUE

Linda stared in surprise.

Behind the helicopters, a convoy of heavy trucks entered the emergency area under police escort. Each vehicle carried the same ZAGE Foundation symbol.

Some transported medical teams.

Others carried generators, water, food, cutting equipment, rescue dogs, and mobile communication systems.

Linda turned back toward the camera.

"It appears additional emergency assistance has just arrived. These helicopters and vehicles belong to the ZAGE Foundation's American Rescue Division."

Her surprise was obvious.

"They reached the area extremely quickly."

The helicopters landed wherever emergency coordinators directed them. ZAGE rescue workers exited wearing protective helmets, masks, breathing equipment, and dark uniforms marked with reflective Foundation symbols.

They did not rush blindly toward the buildings.

The division leader immediately approached the fire department's command post.

"We are ZAGE Foundation Rescue," he said. "We have structural engineers, trauma doctors, heavy-lifting equipment, thermal imaging, mobile communications, and additional breathing equipment. Where do you need us?"

The fire chief looked at him only briefly.

Under normal circumstances, a private corporate rescue team arriving without warning might have caused frustration.

This was not a normal circumstance.

"We need support on the eastern side," the chief answered. "Assist with evacuation and rubble clearance. Do not enter unstable sections without our approval."

"Understood."

The ZAGE teams divided immediately.

Medical units established temporary treatment stations beside overwhelmed paramedics. Doctors began examining burn victims, treating fractures, controlling bleeding, and preparing the most critical patients for transport.

Engineering teams deployed portable scanners and thermal cameras to search through damaged areas for signs of life.

Heavy rescue vehicles moved carefully into position, using cranes and reinforced lifting arms to remove debris that ordinary firefighters could not safely move by hand.

Other workers distributed respirators, bottled water, gloves, and protective clothing to exhausted emergency personnel.

Police officers initially watched them with uncertainty, but that suspicion disappeared quickly once the ZAGE teams began working.

There was no attempt to take control.

No public speech.

No company executives standing in front of cameras.

Only trained people asking where they were needed.

One firefighter pointed toward a collapsed section near the street. "We heard someone beneath there."

A ZAGE engineer immediately approached with a handheld scanner.

"Everyone quiet."

The nearby workers stopped moving.

The engineer lowered the device against the broken concrete.

A faint sound appeared through the receiver.

Knocking.

Three weak impacts.

Then silence.

"There's someone alive."

The rescue team moved instantly.

Firefighters and ZAGE workers began clearing smaller debris by hand while engineers stabilised the surrounding structure. A portable lifting machine raised one section of concrete just enough for another worker to crawl beneath it.

Several minutes later, they pulled out a wounded office employee.

He was unconscious but breathing.

Paramedics carried him toward the medical station.

The rescue continued.

In another area, ZAGE firefighters helped extend water lines toward sections where existing equipment could not reach safely. Their portable pumps drew water from emergency reserves brought inside the convoy.

Mobile generators provided temporary electricity for lights and medical equipment.

Communication specialists established an independent radio network after local channels became overwhelmed by traffic.

The system allowed hospitals, rescue teams, and supply vehicles to exchange basic information without interfering with official police frequencies.

None of it solved the disaster.

The destruction was too great.

But every additional tool created another opportunity to save someone.

Linda continued reporting as the rescue teams disappeared into the smoke behind her.

"The ZAGE Foundation is now working directly beside New York emergency personnel. We are seeing medical vehicles, heavy construction equipment, and several aircraft carrying supplies."

She looked toward the convoy still entering the area.

"What is especially surprising is the speed of their response. ZAGE is a Japanese company, but its American humanitarian division appears to have mobilised almost immediately."

Viewers across the United States watched the footage in disbelief.

ZAGE was known primarily for games, technology, electronics, animation, sports, and entertainment. Many Americans owned ZEPS consoles, played ZAGE games, used Steam, or followed ZAGE's athletes and media.

Very few understood how large the ZAGE Foundation's emergency network had become.

Within an hour, the images spread worldwide.

Japanese television showed ZAGE helicopters flying through the smoke above New York.

Korean news programmes reported that ZAGE Foundation teams from nearby regions were preparing additional supplies.

Chinese hospitals connected to the Foundation offered doctors and blood reserves if international transport became possible.

European branches organised replacement rescue workers, medical specialists, and logistics support.

The tragedy belonged to the United States.

The response quickly became international.

The praise gradually became more balanced.

ZAGE had not come to replace them.

It had come to strengthen them.

That distinction mattered.

As the hours passed, the rescue operation became increasingly dangerous. Fires continued burning inside unstable sections. Parts of the surrounding structures threatened to collapse, and every movement beneath the rubble had to be performed carefully.

Several hours later, Zaboru's private jet finally entered American airspace under emergency humanitarian clearance.

The flight felt unbearably long.

Zaboru remained awake throughout most of it, reading reports transmitted by the Foundation. Every update contained a mixture of hope and horror.

Survivor recovered.

Firefighter injured.

Medical supplies delivered.

Another section collapsed.

Missing employees identified.

Several victims found alive.

Many others were not.

Zaboru stared at every name available to him.

They were strangers.

Office workers, cleaners, security guards, restaurant employees, firefighters, passengers, police officers, and visitors.

Each one had a family.

Each one had expected Monday to be ordinary.

Zaboru closed his eyes and remembered his own thoughts from the previous night.

Perhaps nothing would happen.

Perhaps history had changed.

He had wanted desperately to believe it.

Now the smoke rising above New York could be seen even before the aircraft landed.

The moment the jet reached the airport, Zaboru refused every suggestion that he rest or wait for a safer transportation plan.

A ZAGE Foundation helicopter was already prepared nearby.

He boarded immediately.

As the helicopter approached Manhattan, the scale of the disaster became visible.

Smoke covered a large part of the city. Emergency vehicles filled the streets, and the area surrounding the World Trade Center looked like a wound carved into New York.

Zaboru stared through the window without speaking.

His hands slowly tightened.

He had seen images of the tragedy in his previous life.

Seeing it with his own eyes was completely different.

No television screen could reproduce the size of the smoke, the endless sirens, or the number of people moving like tiny figures beneath the destruction.

The helicopter landed at a temporary emergency zone several streets away.

Zaboru stepped out wearing a protective mask and a dark ZAGE Foundation jacket. Security personnel immediately surrounded him, but he waved them aside.

"Do not block the rescue workers."

A Foundation coordinator hurried toward him. "Sir, the area remains unstable. We recommend you stay at the command centre."

"I'm not here for photographs."

"We know."

"What do you need?"

The coordinator hesitated.

Zaboru looked directly at him.

"Do not treat me like famous stuff right now. Treat me like another resource."

The man nodded.

"We need additional coordination between our medical teams and the hospitals. Several transport routes are blocked, and supply reports are becoming confused."

"Show me."

Zaboru followed him toward the temporary command centre without further hesitation.

He could not undo what had happened.

He could not return the dead to their families.

But there were still people beneath the rubble.

There were still injured survivors waiting for treatment.

There were still firefighters, doctors, and rescue workers pushing their bodies beyond exhaustion.

Zaboru had failed to prevent the tragedy.

He refused to fail them afterward.

To be continued.

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