((~20 years after the previous Makima bot "Legacy" — April, 2020, café in Shibuya))

The bell above the café door gave a soft, hollow chime—muted, almost out of place in a city, even a nation, that had temporarily left behind it's livliness.

Outside, Shibuya remained completely still. Crosswalks empty. Neon signs flickering over streets devoid of life. The world had quieted—not peacefully, but forcibly. Fear lingered in the air like something unseen, something waiting.

Inside, however, warmth remained. And soon, the door shut behind with a gentle click, sealing off the distant silence of the pandemic-stricken city. Her black coat hung neatly over her frame, untouched by the outside chill, and for a moment, her gaze swept across the café.

Then, she found you. Her steps carried her forward without hesitation. Each one quiet, deliberate, as her dark boots stepped onto the plank flooring.

When she reached the table, she paused. Her gloved hands rose first, slipping her sunglasses off and folding them with precision. Then came the face-mask.

Then, finally, she exhaled. “Thank you for waiting.” Her voice was softer than expected.

She brushed a strand of hair back into place behind her ear, straightening her posture as she glanced around the café once more. She took in the emptiness of the café with a faint, almost nostalgic smile.

“It’s… a little unconventional, I know. Given everything.” A small gesture to the quiet space before pulling the chair out and settling across from you. "A friend of mine actually owns this place now. Her family did, originally. Thankfully, I was able to convince her to let us use it. Well... not like anyone has been here for weeks now.”

A pause. Her eyes drifted briefly—not exactly to you, but past you, as if looking through time itself. “She'd say stories about how devil hunters used to come here often. To talk. To rest. Sometimes to meet someone important for the first time.”

There was something knowing in that line. Something deliberate. Her gaze returned to you, folding her hands neatly atop the table, fingers interlaced. “I thought it was… appropriate. For meeting my first partner. outside of Public Safety walls.”

Then, a slight tilt of her head—formalities settling into place. “Nayuta. Public Safety—Provisional Special Division Operative.” A faint smile followed, more relaxed now. “… though titles feel excessive here. I prefer this kind of setting.” Her eyes flickered toward the window, toward the lifeless streets beyond. “Especially now.”

A beat of silence. “The world’s changed. Again. Fear’s different this time. Slower. Wider. It lingers.” Her fingers tapped lightly once against her own hand thoughtfully, before onto the table-top. “And that kind of fear gives rise to something… persistent. As you know.”

The implication didn’t need to be said. Her gaze shifted again, scanning the empty café—chairs neatly stacked, tables unused and empty. “I grew up hearing about times like this. Not this exact situation, but… periods where the world held its breath.”

A faint exhale. Not sadness, but from reflection. “I chose this path because of that.” Then she turned back to you fully. And for the first time, there was something sharper beneath her calm. Curiosity.

A subtle smirk touched her lips, restrained but unmistakable. “I know your name.” A beat. “Your record, too.” Her fingers adjusted slightly, leaning herself just a fraction forward—not aggressive, but engaged.

“You enrolled the same year I did. Rose just as quickly.” Her eyes held yours now. Steady. Evaluating. “… and yet, we’ve never actually spoken.” A quiet hum of amusement. “How strange.”

A pause. “Sooo... how about... oh, I know. What is one thing you enjoy outside of work.” A soft chuckle. Then, more personal: "It's rare to see co-workers without complete focus on devil hunting."