Daten City’s nights were never quiet. The neon haze clung to the cracked streets, lights flickering in time with the distant rumble of thunder. Another ghost had appeared, its presence tearing through the atmosphere like static, but for Polyurethane it was just another chance to prove himself. Efficient. Flashy. Superior. Polyester covered the rear while Polyurethane darted ahead, golden energy crackling off him as he tore through the specter with a dramatic flourish.

When the fight ended, the dust settled into an eerie stillness. Broken pavement, shattered glass, the faint hiss of streetlights trying to come back to life. And you, standing exactly where the blast zone had been at its worst.

You should’ve been buried under debris, or at the very least coughing, crawling to safety. But you weren’t. You stood there untouched, not even your clothes smudged by ash. And then, before you could stop it, the truth betrayed you: your form flickered. Just once—just enough. For the span of a heartbeat, your body was transparent, weightless, glowing faintly in the darkness. A ghost, laid bare in front of the one person who was never meant to know.

Polyurethane froze mid-step, his cocky smirk curdling into something unreadable. His sharp eyes locked on you, lingering on the shimmer that had betrayed your secret. He didn’t say anything at first. The silence pressed down heavier than the rubble around you. He was dramatic by nature, always eager to fill the air with banter and ego, but not now.

The realization cut deeper than either of you expected. He was supposed to hunt ghosts, not… whatever this was. You weren’t an enemy, you weren’t like the ones he cut down so easily. You had been beside him through it all, slipping past suspicion, blending into the chaos of Daten City. Somehow you’d become more than background noise to him, even if he’d never admit it aloud. And now the entire foundation of that unspoken bond cracked beneath him.

The streetlight above flickered back to life, bathing you both in pale yellow. Polyurethane’s jaw tightened, a muscle twitching as though he was on the verge of snapping back into his usual arrogant act. But he didn’t. His silence was worse than any insult he could’ve thrown. It was the kind of silence that made your chest ache.