[Mio's basket was already brimming with vegetables, meat, and bottles of sauce, but she still had a list clutched between her fingers.]
Mio: Kei. she said, tugging at the sleeve of Kei trailing behind her These are getting heavy. You're the one with the muscles, right? Take the other basket.
[Kei grumbled but obeyed, hoisting the second basket with a lopsided frown.]
Kei: You're using me as your pack mule again.
Mio: You're the one who said you wanted to help. Mio shot back, a faint smile curving at the corner of her lips Now go get me some cheese from the east shelves. The imported one. You can't miss it.
[Kei muttered something under his breath but wandered off, the basket swinging from his arm.]
[Left alone for a moment, Mio scanned her list and turned toward the dairy aisle—only to almost bump into someone coming the other way.]
Mio: Ah—! I'm so sorry, I don't know where I was looking—Ace? she blinked, surprised.
[The tall young man looked just as startled. He had a small shopping basket himself, containing only a loaf of bread and a bottle of coffee.]
Ace: Oh. Mio. Didn't expect to run into you here.
Mio: Same here. she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, heart beating a little faster. Stocking up?
Ace: Yeah. he lifted the basket a little Wasn't sure what to buy for dinner. Thought I'd just wing it.
[A pause stretched between them. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Around them, normal shoppers passed by, oblivious.]
[Mio smiled faintly, keeping her voice light.]
[Well, if you're lost, the cheese aisle's that way. Kei's already there.]
[Ace tilted his head slightly as he and Mio walked a few steps down the aisle together.]
Ace: By the way… he said, keeping his tone casual You mentioned a Kei just now. Who's Kei?
[Mio shifted the basket in her arms, eyes flicking briefly toward the dairy section.]
Mio: Kei? Oh, he's my friend. she said simply. He came with me to help carry all this. He's… not exactly built for grocery runs, but I needed the help.
[Ace raised an eyebrow at that, a ghost of a smirk on his face.]
Ace: A friend, huh?
[Before Mio could answer, footsteps approached. Kei came trudging back from the east shelves with a block of cheese in one hand and the basket still dangling from the other.]
Kei: Here. Got the imported one. he muttered, handing it to Mio
[He looked up mid-sentence and froze when he noticed Ace standing there.]
Kei: Oh. Uh… hi?
[Ace gave Kei a polite nod, the same faint smirk still on his lips.]
Ace: So you're Kei.
[Kei glanced at Mio, then back at Ace, feeling a little caught out but trying to play it cool.]
Kei: Yeah. And you're…?
[Mio cleared her throat quickly before it could turn awkward.]
Mio: Ace, this is Kei. Kei, Ace. We just ran into each other while shopping.
[The air hung with an odd tension for a moment — Ace still sizing Kei up, Kei looking vaguely defensive — before Mio broke it by slipping the cheese into her basket.]
Mio: Come on, Kei. We still have to grab the rest of the list.
[The three of them eventually drifted toward the registers. Mio kept her focus on sorting the items in her basket onto the conveyor while Ace stood a respectful step back, scrolling through something on his phone. Kei, however, kept glancing sideways at him every few seconds, his jaw a little tight.]
Ace: I'll catch you later.
[He heads off toward another aisle, Kei leaned a little closer to Mio, lowering his voice.]
Kei: Hey… he muttered as he helped her bag the groceries. That guy—Ace—he's the one you've run into a few times already, right?
[Mio tied off one of the paper bags and gave Kei a small nod.]
Mio: Yeah. Same Ace. Why?
[Kei hefted another bag into the cart but his eyes stayed on the direction Ace had gone.]
Kei: Just… feels like he's everywhere lately. I don't know what his deal is, but something about him bugs me.
[Mio let out a quiet breath, her expression unreadable.]
Mio: Relax. He's harmless. At least, from what I've seen. Besides, it's just groceries, Kei.
[Kei didn't answer right away. He pushed the cart out toward the parking lot with a small frown, still chewing on the thought.]
Kei: Yeah… just groceries. he muttered under his breath
[The sky had dimmed into an amber hue as Shirou walked along the quiet streets, a bag of groceries slung over his shoulder.]
[The city was calmer than usual, the faint rumble of trains and the distant chatter of pedestrians blending into a soothing rhythm.]
[He let out a small sigh.]
Shirou: Peaceful days like this… never last long, do they?
[His phone buzzed.]
Reina: Fukushima. You free right now?
[Her tone wasn't her usual formal one — it was lower, almost cautious.]
Shirou: Uh, yeah. Just on my way home. Why?
Reina: Good. I need you to come to the Investigations Unit, alone. This one's classified — no vigilante call, no backup, understood?
[The seriousness in her voice made him straighten up immediately.]
Shirou: …Got it. On my way.
[He ended the call and turned back toward the main road, revving up his motorcycle. The calm cityscape blurred as he sped toward the Shibuya Ward Police Department, his thoughts spinning:]
Shirou: Why me alone? Did something happen?
[The fluorescent lights hummed quietly above as the room filled with the faint scent of coffee and paper. Ryou, Shin, and Sera stood before the briefing table, waiting. The soft sound of rain tapping on the windows echoed faintly in the background — Shibuya's evening calm masking the weight of whatever was coming next.]
Ryou: Captain… you called Shirou here alone. Why just him? Shouldn't we all be briefed together if this involves the vigilantes?
[He leaned against the table, arms crossed, his tone curious but laced with worry.]
Reina: There's a reason for that.
[Her eyes didn't leave the digital map glowing faintly on the monitor — the SoveCle insignia marked at multiple points across the city.]
[She exhaled, her expression softening, almost hesitant.]
Reina: You've seen how he handles himself under pressure. He's not trained like us, but his instincts... they're sharp. And the others listen to him naturally.
Shin: You mean—
Reina: Yes. He could be the only one with the potential to lead the vigilante group.
[The room fell silent. Even Sera, usually calm and composed, looked up from the files in mild surprise.]
Ryou: Lead…? You're serious, Captain? He's not even officially part of the force.
Reina: Doesn't matter. He has what most officers lack — heart, judgment, and resolve. The others follow him not because of authority, but trust. That's rarer than you think.
Sera: So this is a test.
Reina: Exactly. Tonight's operation will tell me if he's ready to carry that role.
[Reina stood before the digital board, the glowing blue interface reflecting faintly off her calm yet commanding eyes. The officers gathered around as the low hum of the operation room filled the air — machines whirring, monitors syncing, data streaming across the screens.]
[Just as she was about to begin, the glass door hissed open. Shirou stepped inside, still fastening the cuff of his uniform sleeve, his expression somewhere between alert and tired. His eyes briefly met Reina's, and she gave him a subtle nod.]
Reina: Glad you made it, Fukushima. Take a seat — we're starting.
[The other officers turned slightly — Sera leaning on the table with her arms crossed, Shin flipping through tactical files, and Ryou adjusting the holomap's scale.]
Reina: Our target is here. she pointed to a highlighted section on the holographic display A suspected SoveCle relay station. Surveillance confirms movement last night — possibly an info trade between two Arch-linked factions. Our task is to infiltrate quietly, confirm the handoff, and apprehend any active members without triggering a full-blown alert.
[She turned toward Shirou.]
Reina: Shirou, your task is to assist the entry team. You'll move with Ryou and Shin—they'll handle the breach, and you'll back them up once inside. Stay alert and move only on their signal.
Ryou: cracks a half-smile, tapping the table Good. You'll keep your eyes forward and your corners tight. I'll take the lead on the breach—follow my cue, not your instinct.
Shin:checking her holster strap I'll handle flank control. Just make sure to cover our six. Once we're in, it's sweep and secure. Don't rush it.
Sera: crosses her arms, faint smirk You sure you're ready for this, Fukushima? Entry's not the same as playing hero out there.
Shirou: steady voice I know. I'll follow your lead.
Reina: Good. I'll oversee from command. Sera, you'll handle extraction if things go south. Move out at 2100. Final checks in twenty.
[The room fell into a focused silence, broken only by the sound of weapons being checked and gear buckled. The operation was about to begin.]
[The men's changing room smelled faintly of disinfectant and old sweat — the kind of smell that meant a long night ahead. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Lockers lined the walls, half-open, revealing ordered rows of vests, holsters, and spare magazines.]
Ryou: pulling on his tactical gloves with exaggerated care You know, Fukushima, if you keep that grin you'll blind the guards before we even get to the door.
Shirou:shrugging while tightening his bootlaces Better they go down smiling. Saves us paperwork.
[Ryou snorted, then slid a plate carrier over his head and clicked the buckles into place with smooth, practiced motions.]
Ryou: Right. Practical jokes aside — check your vest again. Plate's secure? Cummerbund's tight? You don't want your armor riding up when someone tosses a surprise door your way.
Shirou:palming the plate, nodding Plate's secure. Cummerbund's tight. I triple-checked the medkit—gauze, tourniquet, pain tabs.
[Ryou tapped the side of Shirou's vest like a coach approving a rookie's gear.]
Ryou: Good. Gun? Safety on? Magazine seated? Remember: slow is smooth, smooth is fast. You yank fast only when you have to.
[Shirou pulled the compact sidearm from its holster and racked it once, listening to the metallic click.]
Shirou: Safety's on. Mag's full. Got the suppressor threaded for inside work.
Ryou: Nice. Keep it quiet until I give the breach signal. No solo theatrics, got it?
Shirou: Got it. Follow your cue.
[Ryou grinned, then reached into a pouch and shrugged a pair of ear pro/headsets toward Shirou.]
Ryou: Here — comm earpiece. I'll be on the first channel, Shin on flank. You're on channel three. If you hear my two quick taps on the radio, it's 'move.' Three long taps means 'hold and assess.'
Shirou: accepting the earpiece Two taps move. Three long taps hold. I'll memorize that.
[Ryou tossed a compact breaching tool on the bench and let it catch the light.]
Ryou: Also — if the door's rigged, flashbang first. If you can't get the splash zone clear, go breach on my mark and take the left. I'll go right. We clear halves. Sweep low, sweep high. Eyes on shoulders, not feet.
Shirou:a little breathless, but steady Left on breach, you right. Sweep low and high. Eyes on shoulders.
[Ryou's face softened for a fraction of a second — the training-floor patience that came from years of doing this.]
Ryou: You're doing fine. Don't let the adrenaline write your playbook for you. Breathe. You breathe, you think. You think, we live.
[Shirou gave a small, wry smile and mimed a deep, exaggerated breath that made Ryou crack a grin.]
Shirou: I'll breathe like a monk. Or a sleeping sumo. Whichever keeps me steady.
[Ryou grabbed a small multi-tool and handed it to Shirou.]
Ryou: Tie off any loose straps. Put tape over anything that rattles. And for the love of everything, don't forget your kneepads — you'll thank me later when you have to vault over something.
Shirou: fumbling for his kneepads, then clicking them on I keep the kneepads. You keep the bad jokes.
[They both laughed, a short, sharp sound that cut some of the pressure from the room.]
[A faint knock at the locker-room door — Shin's silhouette in the doorway, checking a tablet.]
Shin: We're five. Van's idling. Ryou, you ready?
Ryou: snapping to professional Ready. Fukushima?
Shirou: shoulders straightening Ready.
[Ryou clapped him on the shoulder once, a quick, firm reassurance.]
Ryou: Then let's move. Stay with us. Watch the corners. Keep your head down and your eyes up.
Shirou: Copy that. Let's go.
[They slung on their packs, checked straps one last time, and stepped out of the changing room into the low-lit corridor toward the vans — the joking gone, their focus trimmed tight like the edge of a blade. Outside, the city waited, unaware.]
Ryou: shouldering his pack as he climbs into the rear of the armored van Door's closed. Lock it up, folks — quiet ride in.
Shin: sliding in beside him, checking her earpiece Comm check. Channels clear. Van 3 to command, we're on standby.
Sera:strapping in, baton secured at her side Stay sharp. No surprises until we arrive. Eyes open, ears closed.
Shirou: settling opposite them, knees braced Copy. I'm with you — whatever the call.
[Outside, engine rumble answered engine rumble as other squad vans rolled up and fell in formation. Flashing lights were kept low; the convoy moved like a single shadow swallowing the street.]
Ryou: half-grin, low Thought you said you weren't riding shotgun tonight, Fukushima.
Shirou:dry Someone has to keep you from turning this into a parade.
[The driver killed the cab light. Through the tinted windows, the city blurred into streaks of neon and rain-slick asphalt.]
Shin: softly into her mic Van 3 en route. Backup units dispersed to perimeter points A, B, and C. Overwatch standing by.
Reina:checking straps one last time We move on my mark. Keep formation tight.
[With that, the van rolled away — a black slug in the night — joining the other vehicles as they carved a silent path toward the relay station.]
[The distant hum of machinery thrummed through the concrete floor, each vibration accompanied by the faint clink of chains echoing from below. Dim yellow lights flickered overhead as an elderly man, perhaps in his late fifties, descended the narrow metal staircase. His polished leather shoes clicked sharply against the rusted steps, each sound measured, commanding.]
???: Keep your eyes open. I don't want another repeat of last week's incident.
[Two armed guards followed close behind, assault rifles hanging ready across their chests. Their boots stomped heavily, crunching on stray gravel scattered across the stairs. The air grew colder and heavier the deeper they went—thick with the smell of rust, old sweat, and something worse.]
[A faint groan echoed from somewhere in the darkness below. The man's expression didn't flicker; only the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk as if savoring the sound.]
Guard 1: Sir, all stocks have been sorted. The next shipment's ready for transport in two hours.
???: adjusting his cufflinks Good. We can't afford any delays. The buyers in the east don't like waiting—especially for quality.
[As they reached the bottom, the corridor stretched wide — flickering lights revealing rows of iron-barred cells, some filled with trembling figures, others empty but stained with dried marks that told their own story. The guards' rifles shifted as they scanned the shadows.]
???: stopping midway and turning slightly Make sure the fresh ones are cleaned up. I want them presentable when the convoy arrives. No bruises… at least not visible ones.
[The guards exchanged a brief glance before nodding. The man's cane tapped lightly as he continued onward, the echo of his steps vanishing into the oppressive dark, his presence alone enough to suffocate the air around him.]
???: Hmph… still the same stench.
[He muttered under his breath, the old rasp of his voice tinged with disdain as he passed a row of trembling captives. His sharp gray eyes swept over them with the scrutiny of a merchant appraising merchandise.]
[A younger subordinate hurried to his side, holding a tablet that displayed shipment data and transaction logs. Roy barely glanced at it before waving a hand dismissively.]
???: Numbers are steady. That's good. But the next batch—ensure they're sent through the east port, not the main one. The Shibuya route's getting too much attention.
Subordinate: Understood, Sir Chrisbourgh. And about the other order…?
[The name Roy Chrisbourgh carried quiet weight in the underworld—spoken rarely, and only with caution. Down in the cellar, his steady cane taps echoed in rhythm with the slow dripping of water from the pipes above. His presence alone silenced the chatter of guards as he moved deeper into the dim chamber.]
Roy: smirking faintly Already arranged. Our friends from the south will handle the transport. All I need is silence, and their usual efficiency.
[He turned, adjusting his long coat as his gaze settled on a reinforced steel door at the end of the hall. Two guards opened it immediately, revealing a small room lined with monitors—each screen showing security feeds of the upper floors, vans being loaded, and the city streets above.]
[Roy's reflection appeared faintly in one of the monitors—wrinkled yet sharp-eyed, a man who'd long outlived his peers through cunning and manipulation. The faint glint of a gold ring on his finger caught the dim light as he rested his hand on his cane.]
Roy:quietly As long as business runs smooth, SoveCle will never run dry…
[His lips curved into a thin, knowing smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. Outside, the hum of engines began to fill the underground as preparations for the next shipment neared completion—unaware that the hunters were already on their way.]
[Chrisbourgh's cane clicked softly against the concrete floor as he moved deeper into the cellar, toward a reinforced chamber guarded by two armed men. He gave them a single nod, and they immediately unlocked the heavy latch. The door creaked open, releasing a wave of cold air that carried the faint scent of rust and fear.]
[Inside, a dim light flickered over two young captives—barely in their early teens, both bound by the wrists. Their eyes, though dulled by exhaustion, still carried a trace of defiance. Roy's gaze lingered on them, his expression unreadable at first… before a thin, almost predatory smile tugged at his lips.]
Roy: Ah… so these are the ones you told me about.
[He took a slow step closer, inspecting them like fine art on display.]
Roy: Quite the exotic pair, aren't they? Clean features, symmetrical faces… a rarity these days. Those foreign buyers will pay a fortune for them.
[One of the guards beside him chuckled nervously, but Roy silenced him with a glance.]
Roy: Don't mistake luck for achievement. We captured them years ago, yet I never realized how valuable they'd become now… Hmph. Maybe I've grown dull in my age.
[He crouched slightly, his old joints creaking, until his cold eyes met the trembling gaze of the younger boy.]
Roy: Tell me, child… do you even remember who you were before this?
[The boy said nothing—only glared. Roy chuckled under his breath and stood straight again, gripping his cane tightly.]
Roy: Good. Keep that glare. Buyers love the ones with fire in their eyes.
[He turned away, adjusting his coat as he walked toward the door.]
Roy: Prepare them. Clean them up. I want them ready for transport within forty-eight hours. No delays.
Guard: Understood, sir. Should we report this batch to the upper syndicate?
Roy: No need. They'll know soon enough. Just make sure these two are delivered perfectly. Their faces alone could buy me another decade of comfort.
[As the door closed behind him, the faint echo of his cane faded up the hall. The guards exchanged glances before one leaned against the wall, muttering under his breath.]
Guard: …If only he knew who they really are…
[The other guard remained silent, eyes locked on the captives—because deep down, he knew those two weren't just any victims. They were pieces from a forgotten story… one that might soon come back to haunt them all.]