"But your age?"

  Crk looked at Azuma Shoyo, who was clearly much younger than him.

  If Azuma was one of the survivors who escaped Krypton, as he cimed, shouldn't he be around the same age as Crk—or even older? Why did he look like he was in his teens instead?

  "Crk, I'm not like you," Azuma said. "You were lucky—your journey to this pnet was smooth. My luck wasn't as good. I was seven when I fled Krypton—older than you were at the time."

  "But after escaping, my ship accidentally entered a pocket dimension. I was trapped there for a long time. The flow of time in that dimension was different from the main universe. So by the time I reached Earth, you'd already been living here for years."

  "Oh, I get it!"

  Crk's face lit up with understanding.

  Back on his ship, his father's AI had taught him a wealth of Kryptonian knowledge. He'd only half-absorbed it at the time, but he could recall it whenever he wanted.

  Among that knowledge was a tidbit about certain pocket dimensions where time flowed differently from the main universe. When Azuma mentioned it, Crk connected the dots, and it clicked.

  "I only realized recently, after seeing the news, that I wasn't the only Kryptonian to make it here," Azuma continued.

  Bullshit!

  He was totally making it up on the fly.

  But Crk bought it hook, line, and sinker.

  Why?

  Because Azuma genuinely had Kryptonian blood and all the abilities that came with it.

  After all…

  Those powers were copied straight from Crk himself.

  With that foundation, Crk had no reason to doubt Azuma's story—especially since it echoed Supergirl's origin, making it even more believable.

  …

  Once Crk confirmed Azuma was a fellow Kryptonian, he eagerly pulled him into a long chat.

  Crk started by recounting how he'd been adopted by the Kents after arriving on Earth, growing up in Smallville, and only learning in recent years that he wasn't their biological son.

  Azuma nodded along, saying his story was simir—he'd been adopted too. But he'd arrived on Earth at an older age, so he always remembered his origins. Sadly, his adoptive parents had passed away a couple of years ago.

  Hearing about Azuma's loss, Crk offered a few words of comfort, feeling a pang of empathy. His own adoptive father had died years ago, after all.

  For years, he'd lived according to the path his father set for him, believing humanity wasn't ready to accept his existence. Yet in just a few days, he'd uncovered his heritage and met a fellow Kryptonian.

  It made Crk downright giddy.

  "Azuma, what are your pns now?" Crk asked.

  He genuinely hoped to bond with his fellow Kryptonian. They might be the st two of their kind in the universe.

  "Since I've confirmed you're a Kryptonian too, I'll head back to Metropolis next. What about you? Want to come live there? You could find a job too," Azuma suggested.

  "No, I need to stay here for a while. I've been away from home for almost a year, and my mom's getting older. I should spend some time with her," Crk replied, declining the offer.

  "Fair enough. If you ever feel like coming over, just let me know—or drop by yourself. For us, the distance is a matter of minutes," Azuma said casually.

  It was just a throwaway line, really. Pying the part of the second Kryptonian on Earth, he had to act friendly.

  Plus…

  Azuma was counting on General Zod showing up so he and Crk could team up to take on the big boss!

  If he had to face Zod's army of Kryptonian warriors alone, he'd be toast.

  In the movie, Crk won thanks to plot armor. Without it, Zod and his crew could've swarmed him and ended it. But the story needed Crk to win, so they came at him one or two at a time, giving him the chance to take them out individually.

  After chatting a bit more, they returned to Smallville.

  Crk said he was heading home to check in and invited Azuma to stop by.

  "You go ahead. I'll swing by ter," Azuma replied.

  "Cool, see you then," Crk said with a nod. Eager to get home, he grabbed his backpack and headed off without further ado.

  Watching Crk walk away, Azuma smirked.

  Then he looked up at the sky.

  Boom!

  A milky-white sonic cloud bloomed overhead as Azuma shot out of the atmosphere at Mach 200 in an instant.

  In space…

  Basking in sunlight, Azuma gnced at the moon. His speed surged as he rocketed toward it.

  Mach 250!

  Mach 300!

  Mach 400!

  Soon, he was pushing nearly Mach 500.

  At 170 kilometers per second, even the 380,000-kilometer distance between Earth and the moon took just over half an hour. He touched down on the lunar surface.

  "One small step for me, one giant leap for mankind," Azuma thought, the famous phrase popping into his head. America's moon nding had been a global sensation back in the day.

  Decades ter, though, evidence piled up proving it was all a staged show for the world to see.

  "Too bad I crossed over too early to see my homend's real moon nding," Azuma mused, gncing at the footprint he'd left behind.

  "But I guess I've beaten them to it in my own way."

  He chuckled, then started wandering around the moon.

  Here and there, poking around.

  The moon was barren, but Azuma found it fascinating.

  Probably the novelty of it all.

  After a while, he'd seen enough. He settled into a comfy-looking crater, sat down, and gazed at the sun—bigger and unobstructed up here. With no atmosphere to filter it, he soaked in the raw sor radiation, reveling in the ecstatic hum of every cell in his body.