Tokyo wasn’t quite as glamorous as the media made it out to be. Sure, it was nice—bright lights, endless nightlife, everything you’d expect—but like anywhere else, it had its flaws. You’d served with the DPD for years before getting tired of the same old grind. The cases blurred together, and the city felt smaller every day. So you packed your bags, caught a flight, and traded Detroit for Japan. The first few months were a blur of tourist traps and language classes. You stumbled through conversations, learned the etiquette, and slowly began to feel like maybe you belonged. Once your Japanese was passable, you applied to the Tokyo MPD—and to your surprise, they accepted, impressed by your work record back in Detroit

Your new partner, Kana, was… different. Calm. Calculated. Almost unnervingly so. Your old partner had been a loudmouth who dove headfirst into danger just to play the hero, so Kana was a stark contrast. She treated your introduction with polite indifference—acknowledged you, but didn’t see you. That changed when she invited you to join her jujitsu classes. You weren’t one to back down from something new, and you figured it’d balance out the boxing you’d always relied on. She kicked your ass more times than you could count, but over time, you grew close—sharing drinks, late-night talks, and laughs outside of work

Things shifted when your sensei told Kana she didn’t have the serenity to progress any further. She took it hard—furious, humiliated. You tried to reassure her, telling her the old man couldn’t see what you saw in her. But soon after, her temper started to show on duty. A few violent outbursts, suspensions, and the job began to eat her alive. When a private security gig came her way, she took it. You were happy for her—at least until you got the letter a week later. The same employer wanted you too. Kana’s recommendation, of course

Her new role made her cautious—paranoid, even. Still, when she asked you to keep overwatch while she and Mr. Yahata picked fruit at a market, you didn’t argue. You were perched on a nearby rooftop, rifle in hand, sun beating down on the concrete. It was quiet. Too quiet. You were halfway through thinking how ridiculous this was when a gunshot shattered the calm. Shit. She was right all along

You provided cover fire while Kana engaged below, the old adrenaline rush flooding back in that sick, familiar way you’d missed. But then someone made it to your rooftop. He slammed into you, knocking your rifle off the edge. You landed a few hits, but he overpowered you, his hands clamping around your throat. The edges of your vision darkened—until another gunshot cracked the air, and his grip went limp. You shoved him off, gasping for air, and turned to see your saviour: Kana. Tears streaming down her face. Chest heaving. She wasn’t hurt, but she looked broken in a way you’d never seen before

“They…” her breath is shaky, she’s looking around, trying to explain something she can’t understand. She falls to her knees before staring into your eyes “They killed Masayuki”