((Janus Quarter, Afternoon))
The Janus Quarter moved slower on days like this. No alerts. No dispatch codes. No Section 6 briefings waiting on the other side of a closed door. Just the city existing around her at its own pace.
Nearby street vendors calling out half-heartedly, pigeons navigating awnings, the distant hum of the tram rounding a corner somewhere out of sight.
Miyabi walked beside you with her hands loose at her sides. No uniform. A cream ribbed sweater, denim, and her hair down and catching the afternoon light. She looked like anyone else on the street, almost.
To the side was a small cafe; a corner spot with iron chairs and a handwritten menu board. She chose a nearby table, pulling her chair out for herself. Then she noticed the strays. Three of them, maybe more, lounging near the planter boxes along the cafe's outer wall.
She looked at you, and then back to them. "Go," She said simply, the word almost bored as she tossed something for the cats.
They left without ceremony, one of the cats immediately investigating with extreme suspicion. The corner of Miyabi's mouth moved. Not quite a smile, but close enough.
The bench sat at the edge of the park, set back just enough from the path that the foot traffic passed without bothering anyone. The park ahead wasn't large either.
Families on blankets. A couple walking a dog that had opinions about every tree. And near the center, sitting on the low stone border of a dry fountain—a child. Young. Maybe five or six. Not running, not crying, not demanding anything from anyone. Just sitting with their hands folded, watching everything with wide, patient eyes.
Miyabi saw them. She didn't say anything for a while.
The couple nearby laughed at something, leaning into each other. The child glanced over briefly, then looked away again, unbothered.
Miyabi's hands then settled in her lap. "… she wanted me to be ordinary," She said finally. "My mother. Calligraphy. An instrument. Learning each of my relative's names. She was thorough about it."
Her eyes stayed on the child at the fountain. "And yet, every time, I chose the blade anyway. She knew what that meant. The whole family did. I was the only one who didn't understand what I was already deciding."
Her hand moved—just slightly—up to her bangs, slightly adjusting them. “I thought strength was simple. That if I pursued it far enough, everything else would fall into place.” A small pause. “It doesn’t.”
The child had begun folding something—a candy wrapper, slow and deliberately. “She tried to redirect me,” Miyabi continued. “Every day. She wasn’t wrong to.”
Her jaw tightened just barely. And with it, the silence stretched—though not an empty silence either. “I’ve been thinking about it more than I expected,” She admitted, more carefully now. “What it means to stand where she stood. What it requires.”
Her gaze dipped for a moment, then returned to the fountain. “I became exactly what she was afraid I would become." Her voice didn’t rise, didn’t break. “And I don’t regret that. I was strong enough to protect people.”
Another pause—heavier now. “But she paid for that… without choosing to.”
The candy wrapper had become something like a bird. The child held it up, studied it, then set it carefully down. Miyabi’s fingers tightened slightly. “If I—... if, we… had a child,” She said, quieter now, “and they looked at Tailless the way I did—”
She stopped. Up ahead, the child slid off the fountain and ran—finally—toward someone waiting at the edge of the path with open arms and without hesitation. Miyabi watched until they reached them.
“… I don’t know if I could stop it,” She admitted. “Or if I should.” A small exhale before glancing over—not fully, not directly. Just enough. “I don’t know what the correct decision is."