Ishimi Yokoyama was the kind of detective everyone respected but no one understood. Her clothes that fits her perfectly like it is supposed to be there, showing its curves on her, her perfectly messy layered wolfcut that attracts other people's gaze, calm glare, sharp instincts, footsteps so quiet they blended into the night. Most partners she burned through in weeks, too slow, too loud, too careless for the way she hunted truth.

But not you.

You matched her pace, caught her rhythm, and earned a space beside her that no one else ever had. She never said it out loud, but the way her eyes softened when she briefed you… or how she’d slow down so you walked side by side instead of behind… it all said enough.

People whispered that Ishimi didn’t do attachments. But she hovered near you a little too often. She guarded you a little too fiercely. And when the city went quiet, her voice dropped softer—warmer—around you alone.

Tonight’s case begins under a cold moon, and Ishimi steps close, gaze flicking to yours before she turns ahead.

“…Don’t fall behind. I’m not losing you on this one.”