The restaurant buzzed with a comforting hum, the kind that lulled you into forgetting the chaos waiting outside. Warm, amber lights bathed the table, casting soft shadows on their plates, while the cityscape glimmered faintly beyond the large window. The faint scent of grilled meat and soy lingered in the air, mingling with the occasional waft of citrus from someone's cocktail.
Their dinner had been singularly focused on one topic: Zhu's mysterious desserts and her even more mysterious admirer. By the time the clock on Zhu's holo-band ticked past 22:00 hours—"10 PM" as Zhu's exhausted brain translated it—they were still no closer to identifying the culprit behind her nightly confections.
Thankfully, and perplexingly, Jane hadn't returned after her dramatic exit to retrieve some "forgotten stuff" from her car. Zhu suspected the stuff was as imaginary as Jane's respect for personal boundaries. The absence of her usual chaos-maker was a small mercy; Jane's return would've only added another layer of mortification to the dessert debacle.
"Zhu-mato, would you mind me crashing at your place tonight?" Miyabi asked abruptly as they stood from the table. Her tone was so casual it might as well have been a weather report. "It's late, and our service to Scott Outpost is off the clock."
Zhu blinked, caught off guard. Miyabi rarely invited herself anywhere, let alone her apartment. "My place?" she echoed, tilting her head. It felt like a role reversal; back in their academy days, it had always been Zhu dragging Miyabi into her dorm after a late night out. "You sure you don't want to stay at Yanagi's? She's near the HAND HQ."
Miyabi's response was immediate and deadpan. "She snores."
Zhu barely had time to react before Yanagi, who had been reaching for her coat, froze mid-motion. Her eyes darted between Zhu and Miyabi, her face rapidly turning the color of a ripe tomato. "I—Chief! I don't snore!" she protested, flustered.
"It's definitely you, Yanagi," Miyabi replied, her face perfectly straight, as if delivering an official report.
"It's Soukaku," Yanagi insisted, her voice trembling with both indignation and embarrassment. She shot an accusatory glare across the table, trying to reclaim some dignity. "I'm sure of it!"
Harumasa, who had been silently nursing his tea like a well-trained agent, suddenly grinned. "Nope, definitely you, Deputy Chief you usually nap on our office, right?"
Yanagi adjusted her glasses sharply, the glare of the restaurant lights bouncing off the lenses like a dramatic villain. "Fine. I'll reject your leave next week, Harumasa."
The man's grin wavered slightly, but he doubled down with a mock-salute. "Worth it."
"Captain, can we join?" Seth piped up, his voice brimming with misplaced cheerfulness as if this were a casual party invitation.
"No, Seth. No, Qingyi," Zhu said firmly, cutting him off before the idea gained any traction. She folded her arms, her gaze steady. "Remember the last time I let you guys crashed at my place with Elias, along and..." She cleared her throat, her cheeks threatening to betray her composure upon mentioning his name. "...I've had recurring nightmares since then. So, no."
"How can you be so sure Lady Hoshimi won't give you new nightmares?" Seth countered innocently, his floppy ears twitching with mock concern.
Zhu's eyes narrowed into a cold stare. "She'll not, she's avoid hunterI'm definitely safe, you can have sleep over with the Deputy instead. I'm sure Yanagi has room." She threw in a sly wink, her lips curving into a mischievous smirk.
"Really?" Seth's face lit up like a kid promised unlimited ice cream.
"No, sorry." Yanagi shot back sharply, adjusting her glasses with an air of finality. "Our place is small. So, no sleepovers. Besides, the city's still wide awake, and the streets are perfectly safe for you to commute back home."
"Captain, I'm scared to go home..." Seth replied dramatically, making a glance at Yanagi.
"Seth, enough!" Zhu interjected, stifling a laugh. She grabbed her bag and nudged Miyabi toward the exit. "Go home, Seth. The streets aren'tthatscary, and I don't have room for your shenanigans tonight."
Zhu drove the PUBSEC mobile with practiced ease, the vehicle rumbling steadily through the quiet streets. The city outside blurred into streaks of light, casting fleeting patterns across the windshield. In the backseat, Seth and Qingyi were uncharacteristically silent, likely too full from dinner to muster their usual energy.
Miyabi sat in the passenger seat, leaning her head against her hand as she gazed at the passing cityscape. Her sharp eyes seemed distant, but her mind was clearly not. "So, Zhu..." she began, her voice almost too casual, "you mentioned earlier that Defense Force took over the Heist case."
"Yes," Zhu replied without missing a beat, her focus locked on the road ahead. "We handed over the evidence board and the files. They said they'll handle it, since, well... apparently, they lost some high-value tech."
"That must sting," Miyabi said, her tone light but laced with a subtle undercurrent of concern.
Zhu's grip on the wheel tightened slightly, her voice dipping into something more contemplative. "It does. Especially now that we've found links between it and our Cold Case, the Hollow Smugglers."
The words seemed to pull Miyabi from her reverie. Her hand, resting idly against her chin, tensed ever so slightly. "You've connected them?" she asked, her tone still steady but noticeably more engaged.
"Yep. We unearthed some names of a mercenary—along with stolen NEDF tech, experimental weapons, and some strange equipment." Zhu's voice carried a mix of frustration and curiosity, a tone Miyabi recognized all too well.
Miyabi kept her gaze on the passing scenery, though her fingers drummed lightly against her armrest. At the mention of Mercenary and stolen NEDF tech, her ears twitched—a subtle but telling sign of unease. "You're really digging into this, aren't you?" she asked, adjusting her seat to face Zhu slightly.
"Of course," Zhu replied, shooting her a brief glance. "The Cold Case is just the tip of the iceberg. There's something bigger going on here."
Miyabi let out a sigh, an uncharacteristic gesture for someone so composed. Zhu noticed it immediately, her brow furrowing. "What?"
"Nothing." Miyabi's reply was quick, her gaze lingering on Zhu, she hesitated before speaking. "Just... be careful, Zhu."
The unspoken weight of her words hung in the air. Zhu glanced at Miyabi again, this time more pointedly. "You know something, don't you?"
Miyabi's lips pressed into a thin line as she turned her gaze back to the window, avoiding Zhu's probing stare. "I just know when something's out of your jurisdiction, that's all."
Zhu huffed softly, her suspicions only growing, but she let the conversation drop. For now.
In the backseat, Seth stirred, breaking the tension with an exaggerated yawn. "Are we there yet? Or is the Captain going to keep driving until we end up in another district?"
Qingyi tilted her head slightly, her voice as calm as ever. "The probability of that scenario is unlikely, Seth. Captain Zhu is remarkably efficient at reaching her destinations."
"Thanks, Qingyi," Zhu muttered dryly, glancing at Miyabi again before focusing back on the road.
Miyabi didn't say another word, but the way her fingers tensed slightly against her armrest didn't go unnoticed by Zhu. Something was definitely off.
They reached the Janus Station after a minute and parked in the NEPS lot. Zhu glanced around as they stepped out, surprised to find Jane's car missing. Whatever excuse Jane might have cooked up this time didn't matter—she just wanted to head home.
The chilly night air greeted them as Zhu and Miyabi started the 15-minute walk to her apartment. The streets were alive with distant hums of passing vehicles, but their own silence was punctuated only by the steady tapping of their footsteps.
Zhu tugged her coat tighter, her breath misting faintly in the cold. Beside her, Miyabi's long coat billowed slightly in the breeze, the faint clink of her katana audible as she adjusted it.
"Miyabi," Zhu finally broke the silence, her voice almost a whisper. "Do you know anything that I don't?"
Miyabi turned her head slightly, her expression neutral but her tone measured. "Obviously, Zhu. Agency-wise? You know how it is—bureaucracy."
Zhu let out a frustrated huff. "I'm so tired. Can't we just... be friends right now? No NDAs, you don't have to sugarcoat it. Tell me what you can."
Miyabi kept walking, her gaze shifting momentarily to the road ahead. "Why the sudden frustration?"
"I've been chasing this Cold Case for so long. Every lead ties back to stolen NEDF tech, weird gadgets, and that damn mercenary alias—The Pacifist," Zhu said, her words carrying an edge of bitterness. "And yet, Defense Force doesn't seem to care. It's like the second they see the NEPS badge, they shut me out."
Finally, upon hearing The Pacifist; Miyabi's steps slowed ever so slightly, her expression tightening for just a fraction of a second before returning to its usual calm. She didn't respond immediately, but Zhu caught the subtle shift.
"Zhu, some things are buried for a reason," Miyabi finally said, her voice soft but heavy. "You have to be careful about how deep you dig."
Zhu stopped abruptly, turning to face Miyabi, her frustration bubbling over. "Careful? Do you know how much effort I've put into this? And now you're telling me to back off because of some buried truths?"
Miyabi met Zhu's gaze, her usually aloof demeanor giving way to a rare flicker of vulnerability. "I'm saying this as your friend. You don't want to be caught up in things you can't control. Not everything is as clear-cut as you think." Her grip on her katana's handle tightened juxtaposed with her straight face.
Zhu's brow furrowed as she tried to parse the weight in Miyabi's words, but Miyabi had already resumed walking, her pace calms and deliberate. "Let's get to your apartment. It's late," she added, her tone shifting back to something neutral, though the undercurrent of concern remained.
Zhu trailed after her, her mind spinning. She glanced at Miyabi's back, her shadow stretched long in the dim light of the streetlamps. Something about the way she reacted to The Pacifist told Zhu there was more to this than she was letting on—and Zhu was determined to find out what.
Zhu Yuan slowed her pace as she approached her apartment, the faint hum of the city night settling around her. She rummaged through her bag, her fingers brushing against everything except her keys. Typical. Eventually, she pulled them free with a victorious flourish. But instead of unlocking the door right away, she hesitated, glancing at the security camera mounted on the side.
Her morning memory flashed like a jumbled dream: waking up safely in her bed after a visiting the Random Play. It made no sense, and the nagging unease clawed at her like an itch she couldn't quite reach.
Behind her, Miyabi tilted her head, her silhouette catching the soft rim light from a nearby streetlamp. The golden glow framed her long hair, giving her an almost ethereal appearance—though Zhu's tired mind promptly labeled it as suspiciously angelic for someone who's probably hiding something.
"Forgot something?" Miyabi's tone was light, but her eyes held a flicker of curiosity.
"Not exactly," Zhu muttered, her voice low as she fiddled with the keys. "Just... recalling something odd." The door lock beeped softly, casting a green glow that briefly illuminated her hand. Pushing the door open, Zhu stepped inside, the apartment's automated lights flickering to life with a warm, sterile glow.
She kicked off her shoes with practiced ease and gestured over her shoulder. "Come on, Miyabi. Let's have some late-night tea before we call it a night. I promise it'll taste marginally better than the mystery sludge we had in the Academy cafeteria."
Miyabi followed; her movements as graceful as always. At the doorway, she paused to slip off her shoes and dipped her head in a slight bow before stepping inside. Her gaze swept across the walls adorned with plaques, medals, and framed certificates. Each one seemed to silently scream overachiever, and Zhu felt a familiar mix of pride and mild embarrassment.
"You still kept the medal from our academy combat exercise," Miyabi noted, gesturing to one particular award on the wall.
Zhu let out a soft chuckle as she sank into the couch, the cushions swallowing her whole. "Of course. My collection's practically a museum at this point. Half of it's from grade school art competitions. Did you know I once won for 'Most Creative Use of Glitter'? Clearly, I peaked early."
"An impressive artistic legacy," Miyabi teased, a soft smile curving her lips.
"Yep, all leading to this." Zhu gestured vaguely around her apartment, then tapped her badge resting on the coffee table. "From bona fide young artist to... well, this." Her voice trailed off as she caught herself staring at the badge longer than she intended.
Miyabi sat down beside her, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "A dependable Captain and a strong contender for the next NEPS Commissioner," she said softly, her gaze steady and supportive.
"Sure," Zhu replied, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Captain, Commissioner—titles that come with longer hours, less sleep, and, oh yeah, a bonus helping of secrets." She looked at Miyabi, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Speaking of which, you're still keeping me in the dark about something, aren't you?"
Miyabi's smile didn't waver, but there was a slight shift in her posture—a subtle giveaway, like the crack of a poker player's mask.
Zhu leaned back, crossing her arms as a wry grin tugged at her lips. "Come on, Miyabi. I know that look. It's the same one you gave me in the Academy right before confessing you sabotaged my drone during training. You've got something to say—spill it."
Miyabi sighed, the sound a mix of fond exasperation and reluctant resolve. "You haven't changed at all, Zhu. Always too sharp for your own good."
Zhu stood abruptly, her stride toward the kitchen practically daring the universe to question her next move. She reached for an overhead cabinet, yanking down a tin of tea leaves with a decisive snap that said, tea fixes everything. Behind her, Miyabi lingered on the couch, her gaze sweeping over the array of plaques and photos on display.
Her attention snagged on a family picture—frozen smiles in a simpler time. Her eyes moved to a PUBSEC team photo, and finally, their academy graduation picture at the edge. A nostalgic sigh escaped her, soft but weighted, like it had slipped out without permission.
"Come on, Miyabi," Zhu called from the kitchen, her voice lighter now, even if her hands moved with a touch too much energy. "I'll brew some tea. Let's sit in here instead."
Miyabi rose gracefully, her movements deliberate, almost ceremonial, and entered the kitchen. The sight that greeted her made her pause. Zhu leaned against the counter, her hand working a cotton swab over her jawline. A small, irritated bump stood out against her skin like a misplaced exclamation point.
"Treating an injury?" Miyabi asked as she slid into the seat beside her, her brow lifting slightly in question.
"Injury?" Zhu scoffed, turning her head to catch her reflection in the tea canister. "Hardly. It's just a weird insect bite. Probably a mosquito with bad taste. Can't blame them—humans are a buffet, right?"
Miyabi didn't respond immediately. Her gaze lingered on the bump, sharp and assessing, though her face betrayed nothing. Zhu raised an eyebrow, amused by her friend's uncharacteristic silence.
"What's with the look?" Zhu teased, tilting her head. "Planning to diagnose me with something exotic? Should I be worried? Do I need to start listing my next of kin?"
Miyabi straightened, her expression smoothing into something neutral—too neutral. "It's probably nothing," she said softly, though her tone carried an edge Zhu couldn't quite place. "You've survived worse."
Zhu laughed, but the sound felt hollow even to her. "Well, I guess tea is step one of the survival guides. Step two: avoid mosquitoes with questionable taste."
Miyabi's lips curved slightly, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of something else—concern, maybe. Zhu couldn't be sure, and that uncertainty gnawed at her more than she wanted to admit.
Zhu served the first cup of hot tea to Miyabi, who sat silently beside her. Her expression remained as neutral as always—no hint of curiosity, no trace of emotion. Just calm, collected Hoshimi Miyabi.
Zhu took a slow sip of her own tea, savoring the warmth, before glancing over at her friend. Miyabi lifted her cup, the steam swirling around her face, before she took a sip. The tension that had been sitting like an unwelcome guest in the room seemed to dissipate slightly with the comforting warmth of the tea.
After a long pause, Miyabi finally spoke, her voice calm but with a subtle weight to it. "Where did you get that bite?"
Zhu looked back at her, unfazed, her own tone light. "Not... quite sure. That night, I walked from 8th Street to the corners of 6th for some initial investigation."
Miyabi nodded, her face unreadable, though her grip on the cup tightened just a little. There was something about the way her fingers curled around the porcelain—like she was holding back something. Zhu's sharp eyes caught it, but she didn't comment.
A few seconds passed, and then Miyabi broke the silence again, her voice quieter this time, as if weighing the words carefully. "Zhu..."
Zhu's posture stiffened ever so slightly; a shift almost imperceptible. The teacup in her hands remained steady, but a flicker of something—an instinctive wariness—flashed across her expression before she masked it with a forced calm.
"Yeah?" she said casually, though her voice was softer now, the shift in her demeanor telling Miyabi that the conversation was about to get more complicated
Miyabi's fingers traced the rim of her teacup absentmindedly, her gaze unfocused, as though considering her words carefully before speaking.
"You know," she began, her voice quiet, the words deliberately casual but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper, "Sometimes the people we least expect... end up on our side. Even when their methods seem a bit... unorthodox."
Zhu glanced at her sideways, brow furrowing slightly, though she didn't respond immediately. Miyabi paused, her eyes flicking toward the window, as if searching for something in the moonlit view before turning back to Zhu.
"The world isn't as simple as black and white, Zhu. Things—people—aren't always what they seem. Especially when they're trying to protect something... or someone. Sometimes, you just have to trust the feelings that don't make sense. Even if it feels like you're the only one who sees it."
Zhu's gaze softened, her words caught somewhere between hesitation and resolve. Miyabi offered a faint, knowing smile as she gently patted Zhu's hand. Her steady eyes locked onto Zhu's, carrying an unspoken message that lingered just out of reach. The silence stretched between them, heavy with understanding yet deliberately withholding too much.
Miyabi leaned back slightly, as though the weight of the moment had passed. "But then, you always did have a knack for seeing through the things most people overlook."
"Oh, Hi fox of wisdom!" Zhu blinked, her expression a mixture of confusion and mild amusement. "Don't tell me you got drunk just by jasmine tea, Miyabi."
Miyabi barely flickered, her posture still poised as ever, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe I did," she replied, voice as smooth and nonchalant as ever, the weight of her words still hanging in the air like a secret only she was in on.