Tensions Are Rising

"What do we have so far?" Haruki asked, trying to cut through the tension.

"Not much," Kenji admitted, leading him to the table where a large map of Shinjiku was spread out. "Aiko was last seen leaving a club around 8 PM. His security detail reported that friends left before him, and he got into his car without incident, but somewhere between the club and his family's estate, the car disappeared off the grid."

"No GPS, no traffic cams, nothing?" Haruki frowned, his mind already piecing together the logistics.

"Nothing," Kenji confirmed, his frustration evident. "It's like they knew exactly how to cover their tracks. We've got roadblocks up, and we're combing through surveillance footage, but so far, we're coming up empty."

Haruki studied the map, his eyes tracing the route from the club to the estate.

It wasn't a long drive, but there were plenty of places to stage an ambush, abandoned buildings, back alleys, and service tunnels.

All of them would have to be checked, and quickly.

"This isn't the first time, is it?" Haruki asked, his voice low.

Kenji stiffened slightly but nodded.

"No. We've had reports of other omegas going missing over the past few weeks. But those were… different cases. Lower profile, off the radar."

He raised a weary hand when he saw the look on Haruki's face, "We have been working on them too, that's how we know it has to be the same set of crooks. It's just that none of them were linked to anyone as high-profile as Aiko Nakamura."

"But now that it's someone like Aiko, the pressure's on," Haruki said, understanding the unspoken truth.

The disappearance of a rich omega would make headlines, but it would also draw attention to the others who had been from poor families, the ones who didn't have powerful families to advocate for them.

Kenji didn't respond, but the look on his face was enough.

Haruki exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to wrap his head around the situation. "So what's the angle here? Ransom? Political leverage?"

"We don't know," Kenji admitted. "There's been no contact, no demands. But if it's connected to the other disappearances, it could be something bigger. Something we haven't even considered yet."

Haruki's mind was already racing, running through the possibilities. Human trafficking? Organ harvesting? Some kind of underground auction for rare omegas? None of it made sense, not without more information.

"Have there been any activities on the organised crime side?" he asked suddenly.

Kenji frowned. "Rumours are circulating. Some say it might be linked to an organized crime ring that's been targeting omegas recently."

Haruki's brow furrowed. "Targeting omegas? For what reason?"

"They're looking for something," Kenji replied, glancing around as if someone might overhear. "I've heard whispers about drugs being used to control or exploit them. It's troubling."

Haruki's mind raced, mentally mapping out potential suspects. He jotted down a few notes, connecting the dots as Kenji spoke.

He recalled a previous case of another missing omega, the same patterns emerging—disappearance, drugs, fear.

"Do you think it's connected to the others?" Haruki asked, adrenaline coursing through him.

"It's possible," Kenji said, his gaze intense. "You remember the case last year? The one with the strange drug that left the victims compliant?"

Haruki's stomach twisted at the memory, the faces of the missing lingering in his mind.

He had failed to save them, and that loss bore heavily on his shoulders. He could still hear the echoes of their families' pleas.

"I can't let this happen again," Haruki murmured, gripping the edge of the table. His scent flared—what if he failed Aiko, too? The thought made his chest tighten.

Kenji sighed. ”I know, we have to go over this carefully this time and make sure there are no mistakes.”

"Where do we start?" Haruki asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his gut.

"We've got teams searching the route he would've taken home," Kenji said, pointing to the map. "But I want you to focus on the bigger picture. Dig into the other cases, see if there's a common thread we're missing. We need to find out who's behind this and why."

Haruki nodded, already turning to leave, but Kenji's voice stopped him.

"Haruki," he said, his tone softer now. "I know this is… complicated for you. But I want you to trust us this time and work with us."

Haruki met his gaze, the unspoken words hanging between them. He knew what Kenji was referring to, the incident that had led to his suspension, the case that had nearly destroyed him.

But he also knew that this was his chance to make things right, to prove that he still had what it took to do the job.

"I'll find him, Chief," Haruki promised, his voice firm. "Whatever it takes."

Kenji gave him a tight nod, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Good. Keep me updated."

Haruki turned and headed for the door, his mind already working through the next steps.

He couldn't help but wonder if it meant he was back on the team.

--———-

Haruki squinted as the piercing glare from the fluorescent lights overhead illuminated the rows of neatly stacked snacks and beverages on the konbini aisles.

The air was filled with the faint hum of refrigerators and the soft rustle of plastic wrappers as customers browsed the shelves.

It had been a few days since he got called in by Chief Kenji and he had yet to find any reasonable leads.

After hours of being frustrated, he decided to step out of his apartment for some fresh air.

An old TV on a nearby shelf droned on in the background.

"A group of partygoers has been rushed to the hospital after overdosing on what authorities suspect to be 'heatwave,' a new and deadly substance making its way through the city," the news anchor's voice echoed through the store.

The report detailed how a group of young people had been found unconscious outside a local club, showing signs of a recreational drug overdose.

Beside the television stood the cashier, an old woman whose weathered hands busied themselves with restocking shelves.

She glanced at the screen shaking her head with a weary expression as she watched the news.

Haruki approached the counter, his expression filled with concern as he set his items down.

She stopped her task, a fond smile lighting up her wrinkled features. "Haru-chan, it's good to see you!" She greeted warmly, her voice filled with affection.

"Good evening, Obaa-san," Haruki mumbled, setting down his items, his mind running over every detail of Aiko's last movements.

"You look distracted, dear. Work again?" she asked, her sharp eyes catching the tension in his face.

He nodded absently, his gaze flicking to the blurry images on the TV. "Yeah. Busy few days." His thoughts filled the list of abandoned buildings, alleys, and possible hot spots replaying in his head.

"Such a shame, what young people are doing nowadays," she muttered, her voice tinged with disappointment.

He hummed in agreement, furrowing his brow as he continued to watched the blurry images on the screen.

"Your total comes to ¥400, Haru-Chan," the old woman said, her voice warm.

As he reached for his wallet, she continued, "You know, back in my day, things were different. People had respect for themselves and each other. None of this nonsense with drugs."

He paid in silence, "Arigatou, Obaasan," he inclined his head politely as she handed him his change.

Just as he turned to leave, the old woman's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Say, Haru-chan, are you married yet?"

He paused, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Not yet," he chuckled, shifting uncomfortably under her searching gaze. "Still searching for the right one, I suppose."

The old woman clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "A strong alpha like you should've been snatched up long ago. And what about your brother? Has he found himself a bride yet?"

His smile became a bit strained, "Brother is very busy with work."

Obaa-san sighed wistfully, her gaze drifting to the glass doors where the people were hurrying past.

"Time waits for no one, Haru-chan," she remarked softly. "I've watched you boys grow up, you know. Running around the neighbourhood causing trouble."

"Why are you talking like this? You still have plenty of years ahead of you, Obaa-san," he reassured her, his tone filled with amusement. "Don't you worry You'll outlive us all."

"Nonsense," The old woman waved off his concerns with a dismissive flick of her hand, "It's only natural that I should want to see your children grow too before my time is through."

He chuckled nervously, shifting on his feet. "I'll keep that in mind."

Suddenly, she leaned in closer, "So, tell me," she began, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. "Are you partial to men or women?"

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Haruki stuttered in shock, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "Oh, Obaa-san, you-you shouldn't worry about that," he stammers, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Give him a criminal case any day and he’d be right at home, but personal issues like these always left him at a loss for words.

"There you go again, alphas shouldn't stutter" She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Such a shame. I have a lovely omega niece, you know. Around your age, and still single. Maybe…"

"Ah, that won't be necessary! I really have to go now!" he exclaimed hastily, his voice raising with panic.

Realising he needed to make his escape before he was roped into another matchmaking session, Haru-chan hastily gathered his belongings and bowed respectfully to Obaa-san.

"Sumimasen, Obaa-san, but I must be on my way," he apologised, "Mother says thank you for the tea leaves!" He called out as he made for the door.

"Don't you dare run off! I am still talking to you!" Obaa-san called after him.

Stepping outside, he squinted against the bright sunlight, using his hand to shield his eyes against the glare of the midday sun, its rays beating down on the pavement.

He sighed heavily, he just wanted something to eat and nearly got married off.

His phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen: a message from Kenji.

Another’s one's gone missing.

His heart sank. It wasn't over yet.