She was beginning to enjoy going solo and the occasional pair-up with Houji. Solving three cases that involved Aogiri Tree and six minor cases in less than five months, she was doing pretty good.

Until Arima tasked her to train Haise.

She tapped her ballpoint pen on the case file, eyes staring at her junior, who seemed to have more interest in the coffee maker than becoming a ghoul investigator.

While she was supposed to play mother with the man who had no recollection of his past, Akira was running out of patience.

That gullible, hopeful, and happy face. She wondered if he had lost anyone.

Akira…

Bug off, Mado!

"Akira."

Her brows raised at the steaming black liquid that was put on her desk. Unlike most of the investigators, she wasn't a fan of caffeine as it tended to race her heart.

That scent though…

She never realized she had brought the liquid to her lips. The sweetness on her tongue and the smoothness along her throat… "This is... good."

When she turned to him, he had the brightest smile.

One that touched her heart.

Chatters. Motors rumbling. Screaming. Repeat.

Hayashi wasn't complaining, but it was getting harder to focus on the road. "Could you turn that down?"

Yoshida, who was sitting beside Hayashi, pressed replay on his phone again. "This woman is a goner."

"We don't know that." The scream continued to bombard his ears. Hayashi had given up getting Yoshida to keep the volume down. He once thought that the EMP strike had crippled the network for good. Who would have known it could be restored in just two days? "We have to assume that she's alive until proven otherwise."

"Yeah sure!" Yoshida put his phone away. Finally. "Like someone who had been attacked by a ghoul would just go home like nothing happened."

Although Hayashi didn't want to admit it, Yoshida was right. That video was at least two days old. With the chances of survival near zero, they would be very lucky to find the body in the next few days.

Assuming there was anything left.

Hayashi shook his head. He shouldn't be so pessimistic. If the victim did survive, she might be depending on them to find her.

And the clock was ticking.

"Maybe it's just another hoax." It wasn't just thinking on the bright side. Hayashi had lost count how many times he had been tasked with cases that later turned out to be some senseless pranks. Given a choice, he would rather slap a ticket to someone than to have that person dead.

"Fat chance. Anyway, has it ever crossed your mind that the Chief just wants us to scout? Why can't we be the ones to check out Matsuoka?"

Hayashi squinted at his partner. "I thought you liked it easy."

"This is Matsuoka, Kento! They hired a lot of ex-military, cops… Peacekeepers are the hottest. We're talking about big money here." Yoshida sighed. "I wonder when someone will offer me that kind of money."

Hayashi snorted. "With your attitude?"

"My skills! Perhaps you've never heard..." Yoshida mimicked holding a pistol. "I'm a good shot." He smirked.

Hayashi rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Ten years ago. When was the last time you fired a gun?"

"Three months ago and I got a perfect score. Thanks for asking."

"The evaluation doesn't count, Yoshida. Face a ghoul and you'll be shaking."

"Tell me again after you've shot a ghoul."

It seemed like Hayashi's phone too had enough of Yoshida's boast. "Hayashi."

"Hey, Fujino here. Guess what? Akira Mado is no longer working for Matsuoka."

"She quit?" Hayashi glanced at Yoshida.

"Two days ago."

"That fits the timeframe. What else you got?"

"Wanted to talk to her boss. Turns out he's gone abroad."

"You believe that?"

"Well, we don't have a warrant. However, from what the receptionist told us, Mado didn't look well when she left."

"Was she sick?"

"Not sure. Whatever happened, she seemed to have left in a hurry. We found her car in the parking lot."

"Then how did she leave?"

"In a cab."

"Tell me you have the plate."

"Who do you think you're talking to? The number matches the one drove by the dead driver we found on the day of the fire."

"No way." Hayashi let out a heavy breath. "This means… When did Mado leave?"

"What's the matter?"

"We've just picked up the autopsy report. The C.O.D. was heart failure. Poor guy's pacemaker fried."

"That's what you got from the unprecedented EMP—oh… Are you saying—"

"That video. It had to be before the EMP attack."

"She left around five in the afternoon."

"The fire started around seven. We need to check the surveillance. See if we can find Mado and identify the witnesses."

"Right. Let's hope that there are still some cameras left untouched."

"Any luck on the blogger?"

"It's a ghost. Kajiwara is pulling his hair."

"I can imagine. He'd never lost to anyone before."

"Oh no, he's glaring. What about your side?"

"We're on our way to Mado's apartment."

"Stay sharp, Hayashi. Those hounds are in frenzy mode. You don't want to cross them."

"Right." Hayashi hung up.

"See, what I've told you." Yoshida smirked.

Hayashi stepped on the pedal, even though it might be too late.

The sharp blade came at her, barely missing her face by a second.

Akira swung the katana-like quinque up, just in time to block the tip of her opponent's quinque, which was an inch away from her carotid artery.

The quinque in her hands shuddered. As her foot gave in, she took a step back to keep her balance, hoping it would offset the opposing force.

For a man about her size, he certainly had a great deal of strength.

And he had barely used it.

Though she loved cats, she had no interest in being played like the mouse.

Akira twisted her shoulder back. Her opponent's blade slipped and grazed along the length of her quinque. The metallic chime rang too close to her ear.

She stepped aside and watched him stumble forward.

But he didn't fall.

He managed to arch his back somehow. His leg kicked high up, giving him an extra boost to make a back somersault. The quinque in his hand followed the same trajectory, charging ahead of him as he lunged towards her.

The way he was using the quinque…

"Special Class Arima?" Her eyes flew right.

He held there and turned his head. It was a familiar face, but not the one he had expected.

"Ouch!" He crouched and covered his head with both hands. When he looked up again with teary eyes, Hirako came to him and gave him a hand.

Akira swung the katana-like quinque down. "Lesson number one… Never take your eyes off your enemy."

"That's cheating." Haise rubbed his head.

"Do you expect ghouls to play fair?"

"...no—" He caught the quinque thrown to him.

"Let's take ten." Akira turned around, leaving. "Find me in the office when you're ready."

When both officers reached the main entrance, they found it swarmed with people.

Cameras. Recorders. Distinctive bands wrapped about the arms. One wrong move and both officers would be on tomorrow's headlines.

Hayashi and Yoshida stared at the journalists for a few seconds, then glanced at each other.

Simultaneously, two fists faced each other, waved twice, and stopped.

A pair of scissors against a rock. Hayashi won.

Yoshida rubbed his face, filled his lungs full until his chest bloated, and marched towards the journalists. "Alright, everyone!"

While Yoshida led the journalists aside, Hayashi waltzed in easily with just a flash of his ID to the security on duty. He took the elevator and pressed four.

Ding.

Hayashi stepped out of the elevator and came into a hallway. He fished in his chest pocket for a piece of paper.

"Four-o-two…" He searched door-to-door for the number. As the sequence was in descending order, he walked further down, took a turn to his left, and found one of the residents came out from about three doors away from Hayashi.

Hayashi walked past him, briefly nodding his head. The latter returned the same gesture.

Hayashi stopped, looking at the number on the door to his right.

Four-o-five. Since it was in descending order…

"Excuse me, sir." Hayashi turned around.

The man halted and moved no further.

"Did you just come out from four-o-two?"

The man slowly turned. He didn't face Hayashi. Instead, he leapt over the rail guard.

"Hey!" Hayashi hunched over the railing, bewildered that someone had landed on his feet unscathed.

Moreover, he sprinted across the atrium and disappeared.

"Oh no you don't!" Hayashi scrambled to the emergency exit and jumped along the stairs. "Yoshida!" He cried out at his radio. "A runner coming in your direction!"

"Where?"

"Main entrance. Go there now and cut him off!"

Yoshida ran out, looked left and right. Beside the cone trees and bushes, he saw no one.

Until a man climbed over the brick fence.

"Hey!" Yoshida was too late when he got to the fence. The suspect had disappeared on the opposite side of the wall.

Yoshida hissed but took off again. He circumvented the fence, entered the street, only to realize that there wasn't even a ghost.

"Did you get him?" Hayashi finally arrived. He grabbed his knees and panted.

"Lost him. What does he look like?"

"Black ball cap… maroon hoodie, and jeans."

"I'll check that side. You cover the other."

They both spread out.

Yoshida jogged along the street. He didn't need to go far.

He raised his foot and saw what he had stepped on—a cluster of cigarette butts, right at the junction that led to a dark alley.

Cliché.

Yoshida pulled out his pistol and tread carefully. One step at a time, he went deeper until darkness consumed him.

Hirako followed Akira out of the gymnasium. "First lesson went well."

"If you refer to the talk." She strode the hall, never looking back.

"Something bothers you?"

She stopped. "Those moves…" She turned about and looked Hirako in the eye. "That was exactly how Special Class Arima fights, but Arima never hesitates."

"I saw him aiming for your vitals."

"Without the intention to kill."

"You aren't suicidal, are you?"

Akira crossed her arms. "First Class Hirako, there's something Special Class Arima is not telling me about Haise Sasaki, and I think you know what that is."

As usual, that bland face was impossible to read. Arima planned well even when it came to sending a snitch.

Hirako didn't have to answer, because she would find out the answer.

Sooner or later.

Yoshida clicked the button at the back of his flashlight and crossed his wrists to align the light with his aim.

Hayashi had it right that he liked everything easy. It didn't make sense to put himself into danger, yet he was doing it.

When he was almost near the end, he stepped on it and swung sharply to his left.

The hair at the back of his neck raised. He swirled his gun just in time to take an aim at someone's chest.

He didn't lie about being a good shot.

His only problem...

Yoshida felt his blood running cold. It was fifty degrees outside, yet he was sweating. His eyes rolled up to focus on the barrel that was inches away from between his brows.

"Are you going to speak or should I make you?"

Damn! He took his line as well.

Face a ghoul and you'll be shaking.

Yoshida tried to keep his cool. He couldn't let Hayashi win this. If someone was using a gun, at least that person was not a ghoul.

Right?

"You think you're faster?" Yoshida smirked, curling his finger at the trigger. He had no idea who was, but at least it was a good line.

Click.

"He's right." A gun loomed into the street light, then Hayashi's face. "You know what to do."

The gunner rolled his eyes, took in a deep breath, and lowered his gun.

He fought back.

The gunner pushed Yoshida's arm aside while swirling towards the latter and chopped him at the neck.

Losing his balance, Yoshida crashed onto Hayashi. They both dropped onto the ground and groaned.

The gunner didn't run away. Instead, he went up close to the duo and kicked away their guns. Smirking, he pulled out his ID. "Kojiro Inoue. Cyber Crime. And why are you two following me?"

"T...SC… Kento Hayashi." He pushed Yoshida away. Panting, he flashed his ID to Inoue. "No one's following you. We are looking for someone with a ball cap and in a hoodie."

Inoue's eyes trained on Yoshida, who had a baseball cap and a yellow hoodie.

Hayashi rolled his eyes, got back on his feet, and dusted off himself. "He's my partner." When everything was over, he had to sit down with Yoshida and go through the dress code again. "Did you just say Cyber Crime? What's Metro PD doing here?" He went to pick up their firearms, then returned one to Yoshida.

"I know there's going to be a merger soon. That doesn't mean we're family now."

"Fine!" Yoshida got back up. "We won't talk either."

"Never asked." Inoue tapped a packet on his palm and picked a cigarette out.

Yoshida watched Inoue light the cigarette. "So it's you who left those cigarette butts."

Inoue huffed the smoke. "Not me. Those had been there for days."

"How did you know?"

Inoue frowned at them. "You sure you're from TSC? I heard they're all elites."

Yoshida stepped up. Before he could argue with the detective, Hayashi pushed him back.

"Look. I don't mind standing here arguing with you. I've got all day. Not sure if you're the same."

Hayashi finally remembered...

The peacekeepers rushed back to unit four-o-two.

Yoshida tapped Hayashi's shoulder then looked at the slit between the door and the frame.

Hayashi pulled out his gun and waited for his partner to do the same, before he slowly pushed the door open.

Hayashi went in. Yoshida followed behind and, being a thoughtful guest, gently closed the door behind.

Immediately, Hayashi's eyes caught a pair of size-thirteen Oxford's, which were lying a little askew before a step. Those shoes had outshone the doormat with an angry cat design.

The duo exchanged glances. Just how often did they meet someone who could fit in those shoes?

Guest, friend, or lover. Hayashi couldn't recall if Mado's dossier had explicitly stated her relationship status. Whoever it was, they had to make sure they weren't stumbling into a foe.

Hayashi took the lead. He slipped off his shoes. While that act was a custom, it was more to help cloak his presence as long as he could.

With Yoshida covering him, Hayashi gingerly moved towards the bedroom. His eyes glanced at a bunch of plastic grocery bags left on the floor and by a closed door.

Hayashi paused before the final few steps. He raised his gun, rushed into the room, and swept it with his gun.

"Hands up where I can see them!" Hayashi cried out at the crouching man, who had slowly turned.

It was all normal, until Hayashi saw the black sclera on the man's right eye.

And a gun came into Hayashi's peripheral vision. It wasn't his.

"Yoshida! No!"

Bang!

"What is this?" Akira frowned at the brown card box, which was similar to the ones used to store the A4 documents in the archive.

Boxes from the archive had its label and were sealed with CCG's tape. The one on Misato's hands had someone's name.

That name Akira hadn't heard in almost a year.

"Special Class Amon's personal effects." Misato took Akira's question literally. "Since you were his partner—"

"I don't want it." Akira walked past her colleague.

"I thought you cared."

"Will you leave me alone if I say I did?" Akira stepped into the just arrived elevator. The door closed. Not fast enough.

"He didn't have anyone. You know that!" Misato pressed her shoulder against the closing door. "Will it kill you to just take some time and mourn him?" Her rage mixed with regrets, overwhelming the brunette.

Good for you, Amon.

"If it helps kill all the ghouls, I'll do anything." Akira couldn't look at Misato anymore. "Do you mind?" She had to get away before the emotion caught her too.

That gape on Misato didn't last long. She clenched her jaws and stepped away from the door. Even when the door was closing, she fixated on the blonde, condemning her heartlessness.

Mourning?

Akira lowered her head, letting out a laugh.

Sure, she could always swing by and lay down some flowers. The cemetery had been a second home to her. It wasn't hard at all.

Just how would she do that, when he didn't even have a grave?

Please don't do anything reckless.

No, she wouldn't. She had to stay alive and kill ghouls.

Every single one of them.

"What the hell, Kento?!" Yoshida cried out. "I could have shot you!"

Blood oozed out from the back of his shoulder. His grey trench coat bloomed with deep red. The one-eye remained on his knees, his back against Hayashi and his partner.

Now they knew the bureau didn't lie about the improved Q bullets.

Hayashi holstered his gun. "He's friendly."

"He's a ghoul!" Yoshida kept his aim at where it had been.

"I know that!" Hayashi snapped. "Are you alright?" He looked at the one-eye, who hadn't moved a muscle after taking a hit at the back.

"A-ki...ra…" The one-eye loosened his grip. A head slipped out of his arm.

Hayashi pulled out his radio. "Dispatch… This is Kento Hayashi from Seventeenth."

As his furrow deepened, the one-eyed had had his eyes planted on the woman in his arms. Not even the wound on his back received that devotion.

He had a good reason.

"Go ahead, Peacekeeper Hayashi."

The trail along her temple and the color on her face…

"We've found Akira Mado. Send an ambulance. ASAP."

Akira froze, eyes staring at the box that somehow ended on her desk.

She thought she had sent a clear message.

Apparently, her message wasn't clear enough.

"There isn't a single day I don't miss them."

She looked up to her left. "Special Class Houji…"

The black haired man carrying a warm smile squeezed her shoulder lightly. "It's okay to feel that loss. You are not alone."

"And what good does it do?" She looked into his eyes. "Wallowing in pain, unable to get up from your bed because it's too difficult to breathe…" Would someone living in the past be able to do that? She was fine like she had always been.

Though she wouldn't say the same about Houji.

The big hand lifted off from her shoulder. It hovered for a while before it withdrew itself. His ache was written all over his face.

He wasn't the only one. Even Arima did that sometimes, but in a more subtle way.

Just what did they expect of her? Bawling her eyes out every time she saw them or giving them some words of solace?

"I'm sorry for your loss, Special Class Houji." That was the best she could do, yet that awestruck face told her that she hadn't done it right.

She had given him a few seconds. Perhaps she was still hoping that he could answer her question.

"Akira… You have to let yourself heal."

"I have." She picked up the box. "Dwelling in the past is not going to help."

She had come a long way for that wound to heal. Last thing she wanted was to let a box undo her.

Johnson swung the club, whipping the air.

Natori came in and stopped next to his boss, who had picked up another golf ball. "The TSC has just left."

A scream interrupted him.

Natori to the screen on his right. The video stopped at a girl with fangs pouncing at a woman.

"That's trending." Johnson swung the club again.

The secretary creased the skin between his brows.

"What do you think?"

"Starving? Probably looking for Nathan."

"Or both." Johnson made his stance and aimed the club at the ball. "I'm amazed that she and Nathan made it this far." He struck the ball. It made a dent on the projection screen and bounced off. "They had help."

"Who do you think—"

"Someone close." Johnson inserted the club into the bag. "Closer than we think." He left the simulator.

Natori followed him to his work desk. "I'll alert the security."

"Let's not draw any unnecessary attention." Johnson bent his back, opened the mini-fridge beneath his desk, and took out a glass bottle of clear liquid.

"Your life might be in danger, sir."

"Nathan is caught. The full-blood may be dangerous, but she's still a child."

"Sir—"

Johnson raised his index finger. "While I don't like such an important asset running loose, she's not going to pose a threat." He closed the fridge. "Give it some time. She'll return."

Natori's eyes followed Johnson going around the desk. "What about Mado?"

Johnson grabbed an opener lying next to the keyboard and uncapped the bottle. "I've been thinking about Avalon System's launching..." His eyes fixed on the screen behind Natori.

On the muted news channel, a correspondent was standing outside the emergency and trauma. The bottom of the screen had a news ticker.

Ghoul-attack in Fourth Ward: Avalon System Project Leader Found.

"I think we've found the spokesperson." Johnson gulped down half the water in the bottle and poured the rest onto the floor. "One too dead to tell her story."