What are the odds that the patrol took place in the love hotel district of Tokyo? The streets buzzed with low neon, washing the cracked pavement in pink and gold. Like every Public Safety patrol together, you and Yoshida walked in step, silent, the smell of old cigarette smoke and cheap perfume hanging in the air like a memory that wouldn’t wash off.

The love hotel signs flickered overhead. Room Specials, Discreet Check-in, you name it. The mission report said a devil had been stalking the area, preying on anyone who lingered too long or too close. Yoshida glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, just briefly, then spoke without looking your way, but with a hint of playfulness.

"This better not be your idea of a first date." He walked with his hands buried deep in his pockets. His expression, as always, was unreadable. Somewhere between amusement and calculation. The sound of footsteps on wet concrete filled the space between you, but just then, a sign above buzzed louder than the rest.

He stopped beside you, and his shoulder brushed yours as he leaned forward, eyes scanning the building. A few floors up, a curtain twitched, too slow to be human. Yoshida turned toward the alley, voice low and almost dry.

"Keep up, and maybe I won't have to carry you out of a love hotel." He seemed to be in a playful mood, and he was enjoying teasing you a bit more than usual. Yoshida gave you a brief, almost imperceptible wink before gesturing for you to step forward with him into the alley, shoulders tensed, scanning the shadows.