Between Missions

Quite Doesn't Last Long

The city pulsed beneath her boots — Tokyo after sundown, where every blinking ad, thumping bassline, and distant train horn wove into a soundscape she knew better than her own heartbeat.

Rei stood at the edge of a high-rise roof in Shibuya, cigarette between fingers, hoodie zipped halfway up her scarlet top. Neon buzzed below like a heartbeat on caffeine. She didn't need silence. She needed this — the chaos, the music, the flicker of freedom in electric air.

“Late,” she muttered to no one, flicking ash into the breeze.

Then came the crunch of sneakers behind her. He’d finally made it.

“Knew I’d find you on top of something tall,” said Riku, slouching onto the rooftop with his usual too-casual charm. He wore his favorite headphones around his neck, blinking like they might start playing themselves.

“Twelve minutes. I counted,” she said, not looking at him.

“Too dramatic. You need a watch with better vibes.”

He handed her a cold canned coffee, still dripping from the vending machine trip. She took it without a word, popped the tab, and downed half.

They sat side by side, feet dangling above a ramen stand four stories down. Tokyo glowed on. The moment existed out of time — suspended between heartbeats and hazy streetlights.

“You got another op?” Riku asked, almost softly.

Rei nodded. “Osaka. Tomorrow. Private train. No names.”

He didn’t press. That’s why she kept showing up.

“I missed this,” he said.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He always said it like that — never I missed you. Just this. Maybe he knew that made her stay a little longer.

“Tell me something ridiculous,” he said, tossing her a lighter for her cigarette.

“Honey never spoils.”

“That’s deep.”

“Not really.”

He laughed quietly. “Okay. I missed this.”

Rei said nothing. Just lit up, watching a drone hum past.

---

Her phone buzzed. One tap. No ringtone. That was the signal.

She stood up, cigarette halfway gone. “Three days,” she said. “Maybe less.”

“Same spot when you're back?” Riku asked.

She looked at him — his hoodie mismatched with his expensive camera bag, his messy hair tied with a neon shoelace. He was Tokyo, through and through. And somehow, he was peace.

“Yeah,” she said. “If it’s still standing.”

He smiled. “If it’s not, we’ll climb higher.”

She gave a mock salute, smirked, and disappeared into the rooftop hatch.

---

Later That Night – Osaka-bound

Rei sat on the last carriage of a private train, boots up, hoodie zipped, tablet in her lap. Mission: locate and retrieve encrypted data from a fixer gone rogue. Quiet, clean, in and out.

Her brain traced routes, backup plans, escape options. But her heart replayed Riku’s voice, the buzz of the vending machine, the neon blur that felt more real than anything else.

Her world was built on precision and silence. But between missions... she came alive.

---

She sipped the green tea. It was cold, bitter, and perfect. The kind of drink you didn’t choose for taste—you chose it because it was real. And real was rare these days.

Riku tilted his head, watching her face in the dim glow of the streetlamp. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he said, voice low.

“I know,” she replied. “But I also don’t know who I am without this. Without the next move.”

They sat there as the quiet pressed in. The café behind them had vines curling through shattered glass. A lost place, like her.

Rei pulled a thin strip of paper from her pocket. It was the Osaka subway pass. Expired. She tore it once down the middle and dropped it into her drink.

Riku blinked. “Symbolic?”

“Maybe.”

Then her phone vibrated again. No encryption. Just a text from Miru.

> “You’ve got less than 36. Meet me at Shinagawa, platform 7. Travel light.”

No punctuation. No comfort.

Rei locked her screen and stood up. “Change of plan,” she said. “I’m heading out tonight.”

“You need me to come?” Riku asked, already slinging his bag over his shoulder.

She paused. “Not yet. This one’s just... recon.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Then take this.” He handed her a small black pendant. Matte. Plain. But when she shook it, it jingled softly. A tiny tracker embedded inside.

“Old tech,” he said. “But better than nothing.”

Rei didn’t thank him. She just tucked it under her shirt and nodded. That was enough.

---

The train platform at Shinagawa was quiet at 03:07. Rei stood behind a vending machine filled with cans that looked older than her boots. Miru emerged from the crowd like a ghost — long coat, dyed silver hair, surgical mask still on even though no one wore them anymore.

“We're being watched,” he said.

“By?”

“Someone who knows about The Lattice. Someone who wants it broken.”

Rei stepped closer. “Then I break it.”

Miru didn’t smile. “You can’t break what you can’t see. You infiltrate. You become one of them.”

“I don’t do infiltration.”

“You do now,” he replied, handing her a black card with a single white character printed on it. 幻 — “phantom.”

“This gets me in?”

“No. This gets you started.”

Rei stared at it. The card was heavier than it looked. Or maybe it was the weight of everything else pressing down on her shoulders.

“I’ll need a new name,” she said.

Miru nodded once. “You’ve got until midnight to decide.”