It had been a month since the riot at the Kyoto Detention House.

March had arrived, bringing with it a hesitant warmth, but the frost in my bones refused to thaw.

Each day felt like a haze, a thin veil over the world, a temporary calm after the chaos.

Hana and I worked our cases like a well-oiled machine, solving them with a precision we’d gained from months of being on edge.

But there was no denying it—no matter how many criminals we apprehended, how many leads we chased down—I couldn’t shake the shadow of Nagasuki Mitsuo.

He was back behind bars.

His plan to free the Shima-Kai had failed, and we had been there to stop it, but his parting words haunted me like a curse: The Shima-Kai will live on.

I’d heard those words a thousand times in my head, and each time, the unease grew deeper.

It were like the words a villain would say before coming back later in the story.

But this was not the case.

He was not coming back.

I reasuured myself.

In the weeks that followed, Hana and I moved swiftly from case to case—clean, efficient work, the kind that didn’t leave room for much thought.

There was a strange ease between us now, a rhythm we’d fallen into.

Without needing to speak, I could sense where she would be, what her next move was.

It was as if, after that riot, we’d become more than just partners—we had become a real team.

We closed four cases in just one month—a burglary ring that had been terrorizing local neighborhoods, a high-profile drug bust that nearly got us killed, a brutal domestic homicide, and an underground trafficking operation that spanned Kyoto.

Each case came with its challenges, but we tackled them head-on.

We had each other’s backs.

In the middle of a chase, or when we were interrogating a suspect, there was always this unspoken understanding.

Hana knew exactly when I needed her to push, and I could tell when she was holding something back.

That kind of trust… it was rare.

And the more time we spent together, the harder it became to ignore what was growing between us.

At first, I tried to shake it off—the way I started noticing the little things about her.

The way her smile would fade just a second too late when she thought no one was looking.

Or the way her eyes softened whenever we cracked a tough case.

I told myself it was just respect, admiration for how good she was at her job.

But the truth was, it was more than that.

I found myself thinking about her more than I should—wondering what she was doing outside of work, what she thought about when the city quieted down.

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It wasn’t just about the cases anymore.

Hana had become a constant in my life, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

There was something else there, something deeper.

But I couldn’t let myself get distracted.

The job came first.

Always.

Today, though, was different.

Today, I wasn’t focused on a case or a lead.

Today was about something I’d been avoiding for a long time, voluntarily or unwillingly.

My sister, Aiko.

It had been years since I’d last seen her.

Years since I walked out of her life to escape reality, convinced that if I have moved to Kyoto, I could somehow make things right.

But the truth was, I’d left her behind, just like I had left behind everything else that reminded me of what I’d lost.

I’d convinced myself it was for her own good—that by staying away, I was protecting her from the trash I was.

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t that simple.

A month ago, when the riot ended and Nagasuki was thrown back behind bars, I finally reached out to Aiko.

Carefully, quietly.

I wasn’t naïve enough to think that Nagasuki’s reach was completely severed.

There were still enemies out there, people who might come after her to get to me.

So, I made sure the meeting would be safe—here, at the station, where I could keep an eye on everything.

Where she wouldn’t be at risk.

It was mid-afternoon now, and I was pacing the visitor’s lounge in the police department, my mind spinning.

What was I even going to say?

How do you explain years of distance to your little sister, especially after you’ve left her to face the world alone?

I had no idea what to expect when I saw her.

Part of me wondered if she even wanted to see me.

Could I blame her if she didn’t?

The door opened, and my heart stopped.

Aiko stood in the doorway, framed by the harsh fluorescent lights of the station.

She looked the same, yet completely different.

Her hair was longer than I remembered, and her face had lost the softness of youth.

Her eyes… her eyes had changed the most.

There was a hardness there, a wariness that hadn’t been there before.

“Aiko…”

I said, stepping toward her.

“Keisuke.”

Her voice was soft but laced with something sharp, something bitter.

She crossed the room and stopped right in front of me.

I stood there for a moment, frozen.

She was looking at me, but it felt like she was seeing right through me.

Suddenly she hugged me.

“Thanks for coming”

I managed, my voice low.

She let the hug go, her smile growing.

“I'm happy to see you.”

I smiled.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to.”

"Of course I'd want to."

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

The silence was thick, filled with the weight of years lost, of things unsaid.

I could see the sadness in her eyes, but she wasn’t going to make this easy for me.

And I didn’t blame her.

I didn’t deserve for this to be easy.

“So we finally meet, uh?”

She asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You have been really busy Keisuke”

“Yeah, between Academy, Kento, the job...”

I admitted, leaning forward, resting my hands on the table.

“Nagasuki is back behind bars, locked away for good. The danger… it’s not over, but I needed to see you. I should have reached out sooner. I should have—”

“Should have?”

She cut me off, her voice rising with a sharpness I hadn’t expected.

“You should have been there. When Mom and Dad died, when I needed you, when everything fell apart… You just disappeared.”

“I was trash at the time.”

I said, guilt choking my words.

“After all i had done to you. After everything that happened, I thought—”

“You thought leaving me alone would protect me?”

She snapped, her eyes flashing.

“I wasn’t happy, Keisuke. I was alone. I didn't feel joyful after you left. I did not feel free of a burden. I felt abandoned.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs.

I had convinced myself I was doing the right thing, staying away.

But I hadn’t thought about what that meant for her.

What it meant for the sister I had promised to take care of.

“Aiko, I’m so sorry. For Mom and Dad. For you.”

The words sounded hollow, even to me.

She stared at me, her expression softening slightly, but the hurt was still there.

“Don't worry. I got over it. Becoming Mom made me more forgiving.”

She chuckled.

I smiled.

“Thank you. Talking about it, how is she?”

Her smile was still there while her eyes met mine.

“She's good. She eats, she sleeps and she cries.”

I smiled.

“So the same as you?”

She blushed slightly.

"I would like to see her one of theese days."

"Fine. Next time I'll bring her here."

Aiko hugged me again, this time more tightly.

After that she left leaving me alone with my thoughts again.

It had gone better than I expected.

She seemed to have forgiven me.

Not that I deserved it.

I left her to manage the house and our parents' inheritance.

She told me that she got married two years ago in one of the calls at the time of the academy.

Now that I think about it, it’s not everyone’s idea to become a mother at 24.

It takes courage.

Stuff my little sister certainly doesn’t lack.

I left the station too walking towards my apartment.