6th Ward – Unknown Motel,
The morning sun spilled lazily through the grimy window slats, casting golden lines across the dust-specked air. I stirred awake slowly, bones lightly sore from a well-earned rest.
The birds outside were chirping like they ran the ward. Peaceful...too peaceful.
I sat up with a yawn, stretched until my joints cracked, and started packing my things into my spatial ring.
I splashed cold water on my face, blinking away the haze as the sting brought clarity.
One goal today: wrap this up and get back home.
I stepped out of my room, still in my loose charcoal pajamas, shirt slightly wrinkled, hair tied in a lazy half-bun, looking more like a wandering college student.
I descended the stairs.
The main door creaked as I pushed it open, and the light "ting" of the bell overhead rang.
I walked up to the bar and slid onto the stool, rubbing my temples with a half-dead groan.
"One coffee, please. Make it strong. My head's killing me."
The bartender blinked at me, clearly sizing me up.
".....Sir, you—"
I gave him a side glance, barely awake.
"Is it because I'm in pajamas? Chill. I'll change after I wake up a bit."
He hesitated before awkwardly blurting out, "Uh...no, sir. This is...actually a bar."
I paused. Processing.
"...fuck..." I muttered, massaging my forehead.
Before the situation got more embarrassing, a calm, elegant voice cut through the silence from behind me.
"But for someone like you....we can make an exception."
I glanced over my shoulder.
A woman with a cool, unreadable expression approached, her movements graceful but guarded. Behind her, a man with the face of someone who hated mornings stood with his arms crossed and jaw clenched.
"Oh? And what do I owe for such hospitality, miss?" I asked, straightening up slightly.
She slid onto the stool next to me and extended a hand.
"Good morning. I'm the owner of this bar...well, temporarily,"
"It's not every day someone checks into this place at midnight...especially not after a night like that."
I offered a small smirk.
"Was it that obvious? Well, I didn't exactly leave a subtle calling card, so...."
She smiled thinly, brushing her hair aside. "News travels fast. Especially that kind."
Gil...yeah, that had to be him, grumbled something, and placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me. I took a whiff. Dark roast. Extra bitter. Perfect.
"Orca's known for their hospitality," she said smoothly, giving Gil a passive glance. "Even for... unusual guests."
I took a sip. "Hospitality, huh? That's rare. I like rare."
Her gaze sharpened slightly, but her voice remained casual.
"You've caused quite a stir, mister."
I didn't respond. Just another slow sip.
"Don't worry, we're not here to rat you out." Her tone dropped a fraction. "But I do have to ask... why us? Why here, of all places? What does the 'monster' want from this run-down bar?"
I arched a brow. "Who knows? maybe it's because I am interested in real estate, or maybe I am interested about your boss-"
SWOOSH
I shifted slightly, dodging and grabbing Gil's head mid-air as his kagune missed me, and slammed it into the counter, shattering the wood.
My foot planted firmly on his throat.
"Now, now," I said calmly, "let's not start the day with a body count. Take back your kagunes or I'll crush his windpipe like a cheap beer can."
Gil struggled, growling. But the woman raised her hand instantly.
"Stop. Gil, stand down."
A sigh followed.
"I...We deeply apologize for this behavior. Please don't take it personally."
I eased the pressure on his neck, letting him breathe.
"Where were we... Ah, yes. I'm interested in one thing. Matasaka Kamishiro. Orca. I want his prison ID number...."
Afternoon – 20th Ward,
I walked through the streets with a quiet hum under my breath, the fresh air carrying the distant scent of roasted chestnuts and concrete.
Got what I came for....Shachi's ID, and that should be a little progress made.
I exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt from my shoulders as I neared home.
Hopefully, Ryouko and Hinami are doing fine—
"Grey. It is you, right?"
That voice...smooth, calculated. Voice of a siren.
I turned.
Rize Kamishiro, standing on the other side of the road, smiling sweetly.
"It's been a while, huh?" she waved.
She stepped onto the road, not even looking.
"!! Look out—!"
I blinked forward, grabbing her waist and yanking her into me as a truck screamed past, missing by inches.
Her breath tickled my neck. "...Nice reflexes."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. 'This woman...'
She looked up, smiling, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"You okay?" I asked. "You should be more careful, Ms. Rize."
"Ms. Rize? Oh my...someone's been digging around." She leaned in teasingly.
'...shit..'
I coughed, playing it cool. "Well, I wanted to return your handkerchief."
She smiled. "Fair. Fair."
We started walking, her presence disturbingly pleasant.
"Where've you been? I haven't seen you these days," she asked, eyeing my bag.
"Business trip. Rough week if I must say"
She nodded. "Figures. Especially after what happened in the 5th Ward..."
As we passed an ice cream van, her eyes sparkled. "Oh! Ice cream! I heard they are the Best in the ward. Shall we try!?"
I smiled. "Very well, it's my treat," to which she bubbled with joy.
We sat by the curb, sampling flavors. Vanilla, strawberry, pista...she insisted on trying everything.
As we resumed our walk, she chatted about literature. I mostly listened. She had a thing for French tragedies and romantic irony.
'Interesting taste'
Finally, nearing my home, I turned to her.
"It's been a lovely evening, Rize. My stress levels are way down.
How about this, give me your number. I'll call you when I return that handkerchief."
She blinked, then smirked.
"Sure. And next time..." she leaned in, whispering, "...you should stay the night, Grey."
'...Huh?'
She giggled softly. "You know, for dinner. To try my cooking."
I grinned. "Done...then see you for dinner"
We said our goodbyes. I took a breath as I stood in front of the door.
Knock.
Knock.
A soft creak.
"Grey…?"