CAN'T HIDE IT

' THREADS OF WAR '

The motel room felt smaller than ever. The sun had barely cleared the horizon, but the heat already pressed against the walls like a warning. Hayamei moved quietly, packing only what was necessary: a few changes of clothes, the knives she trusted more than any human, and a small bag with supplies Aiyana had insisted they take.

Ghost watched her from the corner, his eyes never leaving her movements. He didn't speak, but the way he shifted when she reached for something, the small tightening of his jaw, made it clear he was calculating every possibility, every danger.

Aiyana lounged on the couch, flipping a folded map open on her lap. Her eyes skimmed the routes they might take, the exits from the city, the buildings that offered cover. "We move smart," she said. "Not fast. Not loud. We survive today so we can fight tomorrow."

Hayamei glanced at her sister, a cold weight settling in her chest. Aiyana's voice was calm, precise, like she had rehearsed every step in her head for years. "And what if tomorrow never comes?"

"Then we make today count," Aiyana said simply, not looking up.

Hayamei turned back to her bag, her hands trembling slightly as she zipped it shut. Ghost stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "You're thinking too much about the end before we even start."

"I'm thinking about every second," she said, voice low. "Every choice we make now decides if we live to fight him or die trying."

His eyes softened for a fraction of a second. "Exactly. That's why you can't let the fear control you."

Hayamei didn't answer. She didn't trust herself to. Instead, she took a deep breath, feeling the knot in her chest tighten even as she tried to steady herself.

⸻

They left the motel under the cover of late morning, moving with careful precision. Hayamei led, Ghost shadowing her, Aiyana scanning every corner and alley as if the city itself were conspiring against them. Each step carried a tension that neither spoke aloud, the air thick with unspoken questions and mistrust.

They stopped on the edge of an abandoned lot, the kind of place where shadows could hide both the hunter and the hunted. Aiyana crouched low, pointing toward a narrow alleyway. "That's the fastest route to the old warehouse. It's not secure, but it's a start. We can scout from there."

Hayamei nodded, but her eyes lingered on Ghost. "And you? You sure you can handle staying unnoticed?"

He smirked faintly, but there was no warmth in it. "I've spent enough years moving in his shadows. You think he's the only one who can hide in plain sight?"

Aiyana's lips twitched. "You've got to remember, Hayamei. Ghost isn't perfect. None of us are. Every move, every hesitation could be the difference between living and getting shredded by your father's men."

The words sank into Hayamei like stones. She didn't argue. She couldn't. Instead, she let them guide her steps, forcing her body to move through the motions, even as her mind cataloged every threat.

⸻

Inside the warehouse, dust and decay greeted them. Wooden beams leaned at odd angles, and the concrete floor was cracked, littered with debris from years of neglect. They moved silently, testing the building, marking entrances and exits, checking for shadows that didn't belong.

Aiyana led the way, crouched low, knife glinting faintly in the filtered sunlight. "Good cover," she whispered. "Walls, beams, everything we need to stay unseen. But we'll need more—perimeter checks, surveillance, and probably someone on the outside watching the streets."

Ghost crouched next to her, scanning the high windows. "We can rig cameras at the entrances. Simple feeds. Motion sensors. They'll know we're here if anyone comes too close, but we can stay off the streets until the right time."

Hayamei listened, absorbing everything, but the tension between Ghost and Aiyana was as palpable as the dust in the air. Every glance, every whispered suggestion, carried a hidden charge. Neither trusted the other completely, and Hayamei could feel it in the subtle shifts—the way Ghost's hand lingered near his gun when Aiyana moved too close, or the way Aiyana's eyes narrowed when he spoke.

She hated the game, but she also knew it was necessary. Trust had been a luxury she couldn't afford.

⸻

Hours passed with methodical preparation. Hayamei moved from corner to corner, testing sightlines, checking the structure's weaknesses. Ghost inspected the exits, taking mental notes, while Aiyana mapped out potential choke points and ambush sites, talking quietly to herself as she went.

At one point, Hayamei caught Ghost watching her, eyes narrowed. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but the edge in his voice betrayed him.

"You're lying," she said.

"I'm thinking," he admitted, voice low. "Thinking about contingencies. About what happens if we fail."

Her stomach twisted. "And if we succeed?"

Ghost's gaze didn't soften. "Then we move to the next phase. And the next. And hope we're not too late."

Hayamei swallowed. The plan was becoming more than strategy—it was survival, war, and trust all tangled together in a thread so thin it could snap at any second.

Aiyana's voice interrupted the moment, calm but cold. "You two talk too much. Actions matter more than words. Remember that."

Hayamei glanced at her sister. "You're not wrong."

⸻

As night fell, the trio set up makeshift sleeping areas in the warehouse. They didn't speak much. Instead, each of them circled through their own thoughts, replaying old battles, imagining the coming confrontation, testing loyalties in silence.

Hayamei lay awake longer than either of them, staring at the broken ceiling. Her mind wandered to her father, to the inevitability of their collision. She pictured his face, cold and unyielding, and wondered how long they could dance around him before he finally struck.

Ghost sat by the entrance, eyes alert, every muscle coiled like a spring. Aiyana stretched on the floor, knife in hand, checking the edges of their temporary base. Every movement, every sound, carried weight.

Hayamei's thoughts twisted around Ghost's confession, Aiyana's calculated moves, and the knowledge that they were slowly threading themselves into a plan that might kill them all. And still... the fire inside her burned brighter.

The looming war had begun, even if the first shots hadn't been fired yet.

And by the time the morning light seeped through the cracks in the walls, Hayamei knew one thing with certainty: whatever happened next, nothing would ever be the same.