The woman smiles, squeezing her arms around your waist once before lifting her head back. Just to make sure the curtain is still closed, especially around the stubborn cracks along the shower walls. Her vanilla scent, mingled with something bright and citrusy, swirling through your space.

“Only you.”

You place one hand over hers, the other rising to your face to wipe water from your lashes. The metal of the shower tap reflects you both.

“Don’t let Chris hear any of this then.”

A chuckle leaves Jill, arms loosening slightly as she shifts to stand beside you. Blue eyes bright, bob now flattened by the wetness, giving it a softer length.

“It’ll be our secret,” she says softly, eyebrows twitching for a moment before lifting just slightly. “Is everything alright with you?”

“Yeah, just feeling lightheaded.”

It wasn’t the truth, nor was it exactly a lie. Your body felt drained, as if its energy were dissolving into the rising heat. Joining the mist that climbed toward the ceiling vents and disappeared into the system above. Still… something else lingered beneath it.

Something that couldn’t be named or easily held.

The Raccoon Police Department carried a strange atmosphere these past few days. Even the air itself felt slowed, as if time had thickened, moving with a quiet unnatural awareness. Faces you rarely noticed before now seemed sharper, more present. Indoor plants you had passed countless times appeared oddly vivid, their leaves almost luminous under the sterile light. Even the cracks in the stone walls seemed intentional, like they were holding fragments of a forgotten story.

It felt as if something was urging you to notice everything. To linger. To cherish what would normally pass unseen. A distant instinct whispered beneath it all. That time itself was nothing but a cycle of loss and erosion.

For everything.

For all that fades.

As an officer, these thoughts were not something to act upon, especially in your line of work. At best, they would be grounds for being advised to take a break. At worst, a quiet and polite removal from duty under the guise of concern.

You don’t realize how deeply you’ve drifted into that daze until the shower head’s melody shuts off with a soft mechanical click. The sudden absence of running water makes the room feel sharper. Colder and quieter. Jill’s arm loosens fully, one hand catching the rolling tap to shut it off completely.

A few stray droplets still fall from the edge of the tiles, ticking softly against the floor.

“Don’t want you falling down on me, especially here of all places,” she says, her arm sliding from your bare skin. Her fingers trail away for a second longer than necessary before she steps back. The nudity between you both is ignored, acknowledged only in passing glances that blur the line between duty and familiarity, but still settle into something strangely natural.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Don’t think the lieutenant would want to hear about his daughter getting hurt in the showers… all naked,” she adds, a faint teasing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, eyes flicking briefly toward the curtain before she looks down in humour.

That earns a quiet laugh from you as you pull the curtain open. The plastic shifts with a wet scrape, sticking for a moment before giving way. A soft huff leaves your lips while you reach for the towel, wrapping it around yourself and tightening it once below your armpits. The fabric is slightly rough against damp skin, pulling warmth back into you in uneven patches.

The smaller towel goes over your hair, pressed down and left to hang slightly crooked as it absorbs the last of the water. A few strands still slip free near your neck.

You step out carefully, the floor faintly cold under your flip flops. Thankfully familiar, the kind of small discomfort you’ve learned to ignore in places like this. The locker room air feels still, filtered, faintly smelling of soap and metal.

Jill follows in quiet silence, water dripping lightly from the ends of her hair as she adjusts her stance beside you.

“Speaking of Lieutenant Branagh, your dad’s been looking for you. I forgot to mention it this morning.”

Pushing open the door to the ladies’ locker room, you hold it back for her. A rush of cool air washes over your damp skin, carrying the faint scent of detergent and old tile. Jill catches the door with a soft mutter of thanks.

“What’d he say?”

“Something about wanting to discuss the rookie’s secret welcome party.”

A quiet groan leaves you.

“Oh yeah, he’s been pretty reluctant about that. To think it’s in two months, he’s rushing.”

“I think it’s nice.”

“I guess… it is a sweet welcoming gesture, even for a cop.”

Turning into the aisle of your locker row, you weave past the familiar columns of metal doors until reaching the familiar one. Your hand finds the circular lock without much thought.

“I heard the guy’s around my age, which is why dad is so keen on me being there.” Rolling your eyes slightly, you lift two fingers in quotation. “To make him feel safer.”

A reminiscing smile tugs at Jill’s lips.

“Marvin always did have a soft spot.”

The lock clicks.

“So he’s that kind of rookie?” She continues to be curious.

“Couldn’t tell you.”

“Nothing?”

You shrug, pulling open the locker door.

The scent of lotion and clean fabric greets you immediately. Reaching inside, you grab the bottle before letting the towel loosen from your body and drop onto the bench. Across from you, Jill leans against her own locker, watching with no shame and mild curiosity.

The locker room settled into its usual quiet.

Outside, the station carried on as always, but here every sound felt softened by distance. Conversations became muffled echoes beyond the walls. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting pale strips of white across the floor.

If the lighting were dimmer, this might have been one of your favorite places in the entire department.

“Dunno. Haven’t seen a picture of him or anything.” You unscrew the lotion cap. “Think his name was Leon something.”

“Let’s hope he spends more time learning how to be a cop than triggering the lieutenant’s dad mode.”

A snort escapes you as you pull a sports bra and a clean pair of underwear from your bag.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’m even going, so I’m sure he’ll survive. Besides…I wouldn’t dare flirt with the new guy.” You shake your head with mock offense. “…i’m very professional.”

“Who knows,” Jill drags out the words, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Maybe he’s exactly your type.”

“Hmm. Doubt it.”

“You never know.”

She tosses her towel onto the length of the bench before turning back to her locker. Reaching inside, she retrieves a hairpin and stubbornly works it through the annoying side of her damp hair, pinning it away from her face.

“People can surprise you at any given time, y/n.”

Her words drift over like a cloud across a night sky.

Silence settles comfortably between you both as you continue dressing. Fabric brushes against skin. Lockers click open and shut further down the room. Above, the fluorescent lights buzz softly, filling the space with their familiar hum.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” you murmur after a moment, rubbing lotion into your hands. “Though I doubt my soulmate would be—”

“I didn’t say anything about a soulmate.”

The interruption is immediate.

Looking up, you find her smiling. Lips flipped inward, leaving behind a thin line of a smile as she fought back a laugh.

“I mean—”

A laugh escaped her before you could even defend yourself.

So frozen by your own words, defeat seemed to adore you right now. Whatever response had been forming died before it could reach your tongue, the awkwardness she so rarely saw in you creeping into the open, bare and welcoming.

“What a lover girl.”

There was nothing to say.

Feeling your face grow warm, you simply shook your head. Letting the comfortable silence fall between you, spending the remainder of your time drying your hair by the sinks. Mirrors clouded faintly from the lingering heat of the showers.

Jill clearly had something on her mind.

Every now and then, you’d catch her looking your way. The glances never lingered long enough to be questioned, yet never disappeared completely either.

But you don’t say anything.

Once done, you fastened your duty belt around your waist. The familiar weight of your holster, radio, and cuffs settled against your hips. Jill, who had finished earlier, leaned against the wall nearby. Straightening herself at the sound of your approach, she pushed herself off it, turning toward the door.

The station greets you immediately.

Officers moved through the corridors with practiced purpose, conversations blending into a steady background murmur.

Barely any steps pass before a familiar voice reaches you from the far end of the hall.

“Agent Branagh.”

Turning to look over your shoulder, you stumble into a pair of familiar forest tinted eyes. Standing by the edge of the hallway, arms crossed behind his back. Tall, confident, and poised like a force of his own flesh. Bodies passed by him, muttering cheerful professional greetings.

Which he of course, politely responded to.

Looking back at Jill, you offer a nod before walking away. Through busy bodies and past hazy, washed out wallpaper.

“Captain,” you greet the man with a nod.

He smiles, extending an arm behind him, gesturing in a direction. “I’d like to have a talk with you.”

“Is it about the placement swapping? I have already delivered my input on declining the spot.”

“No,” he chuckles, slight bashfulness hidden beneath warmth. His taller frame blocks the sunlight from you as you walk beneath the high ceilings. “Though not that I can say I’m not delighted with your decision.”

“….”

The silence lasts for a moment. He leads you down the hallway, opening the lounge door for you first and muttering a small, “Ladies first.”

His eyes linger on you for a second. Somewhere between respect and something else. Allowing you to make a good amount of distance into the room, Cadell lets go of the door and shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I wanted to talk to you about a mission,” he starts.

“A mission?”

He nods, eyes glistening whenever strands of black hair drifted across his gaze. His pale skin carried the lingering warmth of a summer tan, to which the lounge’s amber lighting only emphasizes it further. Bringing a hand to the back of his neck, he turns away. Walking deeper into the room toward the bronze unicorn statue resting near the far wall.

“Yes. A classified mission. A two person assignment specifically arranged for you and Agent Kyle, scheduled for tomorrow.”

He pauses, slowly changing direction as though carefully considering his next words.

“Surprisingly, it wasn’t requested by me. It’s a demanding assignment requiring discretion and swiftness, and quite frankly, there are few people I trust with it. You two happen to be among them.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

Two person deployments were not uncommon, but they were rarely described as missions. More often they were routine check ins, tedious assignments handed out whenever other officers found themselves buried beneath paperwork or ‘larger’ responsibilities.

“…Sure. I suspect this cannot be discussed outside the team?”

“Yes,” his answer comes immediately. “As I said, it’s a classified patrol. The Chief has been informed. The Lieutenant has not.”

Finally turning back toward you, his gaze drifts briefly over your form before settling elsewhere.

“Any questions or concerns? If there’s anything you want noted, it will go into the official report.”

Something felt wrong

Not him.

Not the mission.

You.

The question settled heavily within your mind. It was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the signs. The exhaustion. The strange sense of unease. Whatever was happening to you had long slipped beyond your control.

Your instincts urged caution.

Yet despite it, you shake your head.

Determined eyes meet his, confidently.

“No questions. Anything for the city.”

“Anything for the city,” he repeats, the words landing like a seal upon a document.

Silence follows.

Tension welcomed itself like no stranger between you, settling into your bones and spreading quietly throughout the room. Along the floors. Across the walls. Into every empty corner.

Its presence seemed to shrink the space around you, bending your field of vision in subtle ways that made you feel small.

Breathless.

Out of control.

The weight of time settled over you once again, like dust long melted into the wind.

Even after a moment, the words lingered—like a warning that refused to fade.

You glance upward. The sun slips through the windowed frames above, cutting across the room in fractured light before vanishing behind a passing building, as though it couldn’t bear to linger.

For the city.

It was just a mission.

Nothing new.

.

Voided night.

.

Shaken footsteps breaking into a run.

.

A cliff’s lack of mercy.

.

Absence of self.

.

What came after felt like the fall of a bright red petal from a dead rose. Unwelcomed, decaying as it drifted past something already gone.

Pain and harm had etched themselves into your body, a mark of something you could not remember.

But they knew you.

The hospital ceiling meets your eyes again and again, as though you’ve been staring at it for days without end. The steady beeping of a monitor. The distant murmur of a world just beyond the hallway, outside the room you’ve been assigned to. No sense of dates. No names of days. Not even months.

Everything blurs into blue tinged shapes and sterile frames. Time feels cruel here, vile in its stillness. Especially when only days ago, flying had been the hardest thing. Now, simply opening your eyes feels like too much.

Thoughts fracture and scatter, replaying like broken recordings. Whatever remains of clarity feels distant, as if separated from you. Your body continues without it, breathing and existing, remembering something your mind cannot reach. Your heart beats harder, chest rising and falling as though something within you had split cleanly in two.

Mind and self, no longer aligned.

“Our patient is recovering well physically,” the doctor’s clinical voice echoed from the other side of the heavy door. “Though the worst of it remains her fractured leg and those broken ribs. She is also suffering from a localized case of retrograde amnesia. I’m afraid it is difficult to say if those specific memories will ever return.”

“Did she say anything at all about what happened out there?”

The sound of your mother’s voice grew louder as she approached, thick and wobbling with held back tears.

“I attempted to question her, but I was strictly ordered to stop by the department. It is classified police business,” the doctor replied, her voice smooth but steady. The lock on the door clicked open with a sharp, heavy snap that felt like reality breaking. “It is best not to press her about it. Your daughter has shown promising signs of physical recovery since we transferred her to this wing.”

“But has she even eaten?” your mother pressed as she stepped into the room. Her eyes scanned your face with deep worry, the sight of you only deepening it. “She’s getting so much skinnier… she’s losing her color completely.”

“Ma’am, I assure you, we are putting our hearts on the line to provide the finest care possible,” the doctor said smoothly, offering a rehearsed, comforting smile. “Your daughter is our absolute priority here. Do not worry.”

Pressing your eyes shut, the voices slowly faded with the world. One by one, leaving you with corrosion and fear. Neither of them settling properly, like oil and water refusing to mix.

You have failed.

And for that, you pay the cost of abandonment.

Bruises bloomed over you like a canvas. You could hear your mother’s heels clicking closer, softened now, hesitant. A warm palm cups your face carefully, restrained love held in place by fear.

“Mama, won’t it hurt?” Meryl asks. You can hear the worry in her voice. “Big sister has pain.”

At any other time, if you could carry yourself properly, you would have told your mother not to bring her here. To spare her from seeing you like this. But even that feels out of reach. Maybe it is easier to imagine the bandages around your head, face, and neck as something that hides what you’ve become.

And then, like an envelope of failure, your mother’s muffled cries fill the room along with your sister’s. The warmth of her presence slips away as she steps back, looking at her daughter’s state before pulling a crying Meryl into her arms.

The doctor watches silently, eyes shifting between them and you.

Blood slowly seeps into the badge near your head.

After all, even flesh cannot hide the secrets of the soul.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

A/n: Draft’s been sitting for a few days so I’ve lost a bit of the hype, but I’m excited to finally start this series. It’ll get better as it goes on T_T

“You’re shaking, and you’re soaking my robes. People might get the wrong impression if they see us like this, and with that area soaked.”

Your words seem to land on him. His body freezes as he finally lifts his head, tilting it to meet your gentle, smiling gaze.

His onyx eyes glisten like the night ocean reflecting moonlight, strands of raven hair cling to tear streaked cheeks. Sunlight highlights the sharp angles of his face, as if he is a living petal unfolding in beauty.

If anyone sees him like this…

“To let you go without being there… it’s difficult,” he admits.

The man pauses, brows twitching as if racing through countless thoughts. For a rare moment in his life, he isn’t an executioner. He is simply human. Fear, care, love. They all collide at once in this quiet instant.

“Shugen…”

“Many comrades have lost their lives at Shinsenkyō,” he continues, voice low but steady. “What I feel is not doubt, nor is it to diminish your hard work. It is… my selfishness. My selfishness in wanting to keep you away from all danger.”

His words linger in the air like stars suspended over a restless life.

Trees and bushes seem to breathe with the wind, a soft, soothing sigh threading through the distant clashing of swords and the muted groans of ambition from the training yard.

Shifting on your folded legs, your hands slide along his sides to the back of his arms, coaxing him to sit up. Shugen doesn’t resist, his eyes refuse to leave your face. Fighting back the urge in flutter as you cup his cheeks and gently pull him closer. Thumps wipe away his tears.

“I can be very selfish,” you murmur, letting your gaze flicker down to his lips before returning to his dark eyes, “even when I pour myself entirely into my sword.”

“Yes but—“

“Never would I allow myself to lose,” you continue, voice firm yet soft, “not through foolishness, not through misfortune. And I expect you to understand that better than anyone else because…”

Shugen’s eyes widen in realization. His adam’s apple bobs in a gulp as his lips part to speak.

“I will come back, no matter the cost. Waiting home… is someone far more worthy than anything else in this world.”

The words hang heavy, the same words he mutters every time he leaves on missions that don’t include you. Moments when uncertainty and longing outweigh every cloud above or sound around.

A small, tender smile curves your lips.

Is there any other feeling as strong as love?

Leaning in, you press a soft peck to his, and at last, he finally lets his eyes flutter shut. The lines of worry etched across his face begin to ease, melting slowly with each heartbeat.

Every part of you intertwines. Hair brushes hair, hands cling to arms, lips meet lips. While the world blurs into a soft golden haze, a lone butterfly drifts quietly as a fleeting witness to your closeness.

You drown in each other, each soft gasp and heartbeat amplifying the connection, until the need to breathe reminds you both that even these moments, as infinite as they feel, exist within the bounds of reality.

“Guess you’ve got a knack for kissing, huh?” you tease, voice dripping with humor and just enough mischief.

Shugen lets out a soft scoff, followed by a chuckle, and presses his head against your shoulder. He inhales deeply, taking in your warmth and scent like it is a balm for his soul.

“Of course I do,” he says, voice low, almost smug.

“Don’t let Jikka-domo hear you admit that,” you warn.

A low, amused growl escapes him, you feel his smile press into your neck. The sensation makes you squirm, unable to resist the overwhelming tickle.

“Still too sensitive,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin as he shifts, laughter threatening to break through.

“Careful,” you tease back, letting your fingers linger, “because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want us to get caught.”

His head lifts slightly, eyes meeting yours, the faintest glint of mischief appearing on that usually stoic face.

“It doesn’t appeal as … bothersome,” he says softly, gaze drifting downward, “I would pay the price of my contribution.”

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Oh? And what prize might that be?”

Shugen’s hand reaches for yours, capturing it gently. He lifts it, pressing the back of your palm to his lips in a soft, reverent kiss.

“Perhaps… it would open new opportunities for us,” he murmurs, looking to the side. Voice low, softly yet deeply intimate.

Tilting your head, you follow his gaze. A green butterfly perches delicately on the stone nearby, wings flickering in the sunlight. The sight makes your heart flutter, matching the quiet racing of your chest.

Shugen’s eyes flick back to you, a faint blush warming his cheeks. His jaw is sharp, the angles softened by the curve of his lips as he whispers, almost shyly,

“Marriage…”

You blink, stunned, letting the word hang between you.

“And… maybe children,” he adds, a soft laugh brushing through the statement, like it is half a dream, half a promise.

Your fingers tighten slightly in his, and you feel the weight of the moment settle between you.

Light, but full of life. Full of possibility, and heartbeats echoing in tandem. The wind stirs, the butterfly lifts into the air, and the world around you seems to pause, waiting to witness the quiet, daring confession of two hearts daring to imagine a future together.

“Shugen…” you mutter, breath catching in your throat, cheeks burning as you cup your face. “You can’t just say something like that!”

He tilts his head, a mischievous glint in his onyx eyes. “Would you not be delighted by such a thought?” His tone is teasing, yet genuine, and you can’t help but glance at the grass beneath you. Even the blades seem frozen, as if the world itself has paused in shock.

“That’s—I… I didn’t say that,” you stammer, heart hammering against your ribs.

“So you would be pl—”

Before he can finish, you lunge forward, hands flying to cover his mouth. The sudden movement sends both of you tumbling backward. Completely forgetting how the hill slopes beneath you.

Gravity wanting to remind you pulls you harshly, before landing in a groan. Uncomfortably sprawled, your body presses lightly against his. One hand lands near his head while the other clamps over his lips, muffling any protest he might voice.

“You can be very mean, you know that, Shugen-domo?” you breathe, fighting to keep your tone steady despite the fluttering panic in your chest. Shifting slightly, moving your hand from his mouth and balancing your weight on both hands, careful not to crush him.

Or yourself.

Mentally.

Shugen’s initial surprise softens almost immediately into a quiet, teasing smile. Hands slide up to your waist, warm and deliberate, while his gaze lingers briefly downward before snapping back to yours. Shameless, even in these moments.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, each word deliberate, almost reverent. His hair, tousled by the wind, catches the sunlight, strands brushing your cheek. Around you, the world seems suspended. Leaves flutter, the distant murmur of the river, a lone butterfly traces the sunlight above the stone.

As if your body blocks the reality of your life, replacing it with soothing things.

“Such cruelty,” he murmurs, pressing a soft hand against your waist. “Binding me to a romance and leaving me… like this.”

You blink, huffing, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m no runaway bride.”

“Bride,” he echoes, a playful lilt in the word, dark eyes gleaming with quiet affection.

Leaning a little closer, you let your foreheads touch. “You’re impossible,”

“And yet,” he breathes, eyes moving your one eye to the other, “I cannot imagine anyone else in my place.”

A hush falls around you, flowers bending as if to listen. Rustling leaves, distant river, heartbeats align, rapid and warm, as you linger in that suspended space. Stuck between teasing and confession, laughter and something far deeper.

Just like that, every worry from moments ago dissolves, vanishing like mist over a freshly washed painting.

Maybe it’s these moments that you cherish so hard. That the possibility of it ending has you broken before the day even comes.

Before you can speak, a familiar, little girl’s voice cuts through the backyard.

Sagiri.

Both of your heads snap up in shock. You topple slightly into him, wincing as your body hits his. Shugen remains perfectly unfazed, smiling small somehow both exasperated and endearing.

Of course.

“She can’t see us…” you mutter, voice low.

“Roll down and circle through the back path?” he suggests, the tiny hint of humor in his tone betraying his usual seriousness.

You nod, grateful for his calm.

Shifting off him, you roll carefully down the gentle slope, grass brushing against your arms. Shugen follows, chuckling softly in quiet whispers that mingle with the rustle of leaves.

Once at the bottom, you both scramble upright, brushing off stray blades of grass. Hands find each other, fingers interlacing with a natural ease, and together you slip into the promise of the forest beyond the compound. Once again, using the familiar escape route you rely on whenever getting caught here seems inevitable.

The shadows of the trees stretch long and welcoming, leaves brushing your shoulders as you run. You duck under low hanging branches, and Shugen’s laughter.

A rare sound.

“You know,” you whisper, smiling, “this is starting to feel like a secret mission just for us.”

The forest seems alive with possibility, each step, each glance, each breath weaving a memory that is yours alone.

“We’ll have plenty more.”

𓂃 ོ☼𓂃