Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The city felt wrong tonight. Too quiet in some places, too loud in others. Hayamei could hear every drop of rain hitting the rooftop above her, every creak in the hallway, every footstep on the wet pavement three stories down. She'd stopped thinking of silence as safety a long time ago — silence meant someone was close enough to be listening too.
She sat cross-legged on the floor of the apartment, the map spread in front of her, her phone facedown beside it. Na'Nami's tiny stuffed unicorn sat on the table a few feet away, button eyes staring. Hayamei still hadn't decided if she was paranoid or just finally paying attention, but every part of her gut screamed the same thing: the hunt was about to get closer.
Aiyana stood at the window, cigarette between her fingers, her voice low. "You sure you wanna do this?"
"I'm sure." Hayamei didn't look up. She traced a route on the map with her fingertip — a jagged, unpredictable pattern. "I'm done waiting for them to make the first move. I'm gonna hit back."
"You hit back," Aiyana said slowly, "you better hit hard enough they don't get back up. Because Ghost?" She glanced over her shoulder, eyes sharp. "He's not the type to quit halfway."
Hayamei's chest tightened. She didn't need the reminder. She'd seen Ghost in motion, seen how quickly he could close distance, how little hesitation there was in his movements. He wasn't just dangerous — he was efficient.
And now he had Na'Nami's scent in his head.
Hayamei folded the map, slid it into her jacket. "Then I guess I better make sure he doesn't get the chance."
From the corner of her eye, she saw Aiyana flick ash into the rain. "You sound like him," Aiyana muttered.
Hayamei froze for a half-second. She didn't ask what she meant — didn't need to. The rain was relentless, hammering against the cracked window as Hayamei slid through the back alleys of Wilmont. Every shadow felt like it had teeth. Every whisper could be a warning. But tonight, she was the one holding the blade.
Her phone buzzed—a burner message from Malik, the former ghost runner turned ally.
"Target located. East docks. High security. They're moving Na'Nami."
Hayamei's breath hitched. The war was no longer in whispers or shadows—it was screaming in her ear.
She texted back: "I'm coming. Prep the extraction."
⸻
Aiyana met her by the rusted gate. The smell of saltwater mixed with diesel and decay.
"Ghost's crew has them in a shipping container," Aiyana said, eyes scanning the perimeter. "Security tight, but we have one shot."
Hayamei nodded, feeling the cold steel of determination settle inside her chest.
