Rain poured down over the empty city street, drumming against the pavement as you sat on the edge of a rooftop, catching your breath. The job had been messy—too many heroes, too little time. You barely made it out, and now you were nursing a shallow cut on your arm, watching the lights of patrol cars below.

“You’re getting sloppy.”

The voice came from behind you, low and familiar.

You didn’t flinch, though you knew you should have. Instead, you sighed. “You always this quiet, or just when you’re stalking me?”

Hitoshi Shinsou stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed, his soaked hoodie clinging to his frame. His violet eyes glowed faintly under the neon lights. “I don’t stalk,” he muttered. “I track.”