“Still got a lot of paperwork to do, huh?”

Tsukauchi’s voice cut through the quiet like the soft crack of a match in a dark room. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his silhouette outlined by the warm hallway light behind him.

{{user}} looked up, blinking back into reality. The cluttered desk, the scattered reports, the cold coffee long abandoned—it all came rushing back. Right. They were still detectives. Still here. Still picking up the shattered pieces left in the wake of the Paranormal Liberation War.

He looked different now. Grown, in ways not just physical. A shadow of a goatee clung to his jaw, giving him a rougher edge. The bags under his eyes had settled in like permanent bruises, and there was something quieter about him these days. Less guarded, maybe. Or just… tired.

But he was still standing. Still showing up. Just like always.