The Manhunt

The room was quiet again, but the tension clung to the air like smoke after a fire. Yuriko Matsunaga stood at the head of the table, her piercing gaze sweeping over the scattered documents and images before her. Each photo, each piece of information, was another fragment of a puzzle that refused to come together.

Mikaela broke the silence, her tone low and deliberate. "Chief, let's assume for a moment she knows we're this close. What's her next move? Someone like Saigeru doesn't strike me as the type to retreat quietly."

Yuriko leaned forward, her palms pressing into the edge of the table. Her voice was measured but carried an unyielding weight. "If she knows we're close, she'll do one of two things. Either she'll escalate—force our hand—or she'll vanish completely. The only thing we can count on is that she won't make it easy for us."

Ryuji glanced at the whiteboard, his eyes lingering on Kairi's face. "She's not just some killer running on impulse. Every move she makes feels deliberate, even when it looks chaotic. It's like she's always three steps ahead of us. We're playing her game, and I hate to say it, but she's better at it."

Yuriko's voice sharpened. "Then we stop playing her game. We make the board so unstable that even she can't predict what's coming next. Start coordinating with the other precincts. I want every officer in this city briefed on her. No leaks, no loose ends. If she has sympathizers, they need to be dealt with immediately."

Mikaela frowned, her arms crossed tightly. "And what about collateral? Saigeru's not the only one we're up against. The gangs she's been dismantling—they're not going to sit idly by. If we turn up the heat, they'll retaliate. People will get caught in the crossfire."

Yuriko's expression didn't falter, but there was a momentary flicker of something deeper behind her eyes. "We don't have the luxury of hesitation, Yoon-Himura. This isn't just about her anymore. It's about the city. If we let her continue unchecked, the chaos she's creating will spiral out of control. Innocent lives are already being lost. We stop her, and we stop the ripple effect she's leaving in her wake."

Ryuji exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You're right, but this doesn't sit right with me. There's more to this than we're seeing. Her targets, her methods—they're all connected somehow. We're missing something."

Yuriko's gaze hardened. "Then find it. Whatever it is, whatever's driving her, I want it uncovered. If we can figure out what's fueling her, we can cut it off at the source."

The door to the conference room opened, and another officer entered, carrying a small stack of papers. "Chief Matsunaga, we've pulled more footage from the north district. It confirms Saigeru's involvement, but there's something else you should see."

Yuriko gestured for him to continue. He laid the papers on the table, revealing a sequence of grainy stills. In one, Kairi stood over the unconscious bodies of the men she had fought. In another, she was scaling the side of a building, her face partially obscured but unmistakably focused. The final image showed her silhouetted against the night sky, disappearing into the city.

"What is it?" Mikaela asked, her brow furrowing as she studied the photos.

The officer hesitated. "There was an audio pickup from a nearby witness. They said… she was laughing. Not out of malice, but like she was taunting someone. When asked who she was talking to, the witness said it seemed like she was talking to us."

Yuriko's eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. "She's mocking us. She knows we're watching."

Ryuji clenched his fists, frustration flickering across his face. "Then she's daring us to come after her. Fine. Let's give her what she wants."

Yuriko shook her head. "No. That's exactly what she wants. We do this on our terms, not hers. She thinks she's untouchable, but no one is untouchable. We just have to wait for the right moment to strike."

Mikaela glanced at the board again, her gaze lingering on Kairi's piercing eyes. "And what if we don't get that moment, Chief? What if she decides to strike first?"

Yuriko's voice was cold and firm. "Then we'll be ready."

The scene shifted to a dimly lit hotel room. The faint hum of the city outside seeped through the closed window, mingling with the quiet sound of Kairi's steady breathing. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the edge of her katana's sheath. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, her expression dark and distant.

"She thinks she's ready for me," Kairi muttered under her breath, her voice low and laced with venom. "They all do. But they don't understand. They see the chaos, the blood, and the bodies, but they don't see the purpose. They don't see the truth."

Her gaze flicked to the window, her reflection staring back at her like a phantom. "The Pacifist Destroyers. The Kurokawa Bureau. They're all the same. Pigs feeding off the misery of others. They think they're better than the scum I've been cutting down, but they're not. They're just more polished."

She stood abruptly, her movements sharp and purposeful. "I'll make them see. One by one, I'll tear them apart until there's nothing left but the truth. The truth they've been trying so hard to bury."

Her eyes flicked to the floor, where her combat boots sat neatly beside her. She slid them on, lacing them tightly as her resolve solidified. "But first…" She glanced out the window, the glow of the city lights reflecting in her eyes. "I need to remind this city who I am."

Without hesitation, Kairi grabbed her katana and stepped out onto the balcony. The cool night air hit her face as she scanned the streets below, her expression calm but predatory. It was time to send another message—one the city would never forget.

Kairi froze when she heard the knock at the door. It was soft, polite even, but in her line of work, there was no such thing as harmless. Her hand instinctively darted to the nearest object within reach—a small, sleek letter opener lying on the desk beside her katana. Not ideal, but sharp enough to buy her a few seconds if things turned south.

She moved toward the door slowly, her bare feet silent on the carpet. The room felt suffocatingly quiet, the hum of the city below now drowned out by the pounding of her own heartbeat. With her free hand, she placed her fingers lightly on the doorknob, her mind racing through possibilities. Another assassin? The cops? Or maybe someone sent by Kayd and his lackeys?

Exhaling softly, she turned the knob and pulled the door open just a crack, her letter opener concealed behind her thigh. Her sharp eyes scanned the figure standing in the hallway.

It wasn't what she expected.

A young woman stood there, dressed in a neat maid uniform. Her face was round and cheerful, with a hint of nervousness, as though she was aware of how suspicious she looked knocking on a guest's door unannounced. She held a small cart behind her, stacked with cleaning supplies.

"Good evening, ma'am," the maid began, her voice soft but formal. "Would you like your room cleaned? I noticed you hadn't requested service, so I thought I'd check in personally."

Kairi blinked, momentarily disarmed. For a moment, the surreal normalcy of the situation threw her completely off guard. Was this woman serious? What kind of maid offered unsolicited cleaning services in the middle of the night?

Kairi cleared her throat, her voice low and cautious. "You always knock like that? Almost gave me a heart attack."

The maid tilted her head, a polite smile tugging at her lips. "I apologize if I startled you. Some guests appreciate a more proactive approach to service."

"Proactive," Kairi repeated flatly, glancing past the maid down the hallway. It was empty, save for the dim lighting and faint sound of someone's TV playing in another room. She eased the door open slightly but kept the letter opener in her hand, just out of sight.

The maid noticed Kairi's hesitation and took a small step back. "If this is a bad time, I can return later—"

"No, no," Kairi cut her off, sighing. She felt a pang of guilt for her paranoia, but only a pang. "Go ahead. Just… don't touch the desk."

The maid gave a small bow, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "Thank you, ma'am. I'll only be a moment."

Kairi stepped aside, letting the woman wheel her cart into the room. She watched her like a hawk, her fingers still curled tightly around the handle of the letter opener. The maid, for her part, seemed blissfully unaware—or maybe she was just that good at hiding her nerves.

As the maid began tidying up, Kairi leaned against the wall near the door, her sharp gaze never leaving the woman. "So, uh… you always work this late?" she asked, her tone casual but laced with suspicion.

The maid chuckled softly. "Not always, no. But some guests prefer late service, and I don't mind the hours. It's quieter at night." She paused, glancing at Kairi over her shoulder. "And you? Working late too?"

Kairi raised an eyebrow. "Something like that."

The maid didn't press further, thankfully. Instead, she hummed softly as she moved about the room, wiping surfaces and straightening pillows. Kairi couldn't help but notice how young she looked—probably not much older than twenty. She had an easy, unhurried way about her, as though cleaning rooms in sketchy hotels at odd hours was the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, Kairi considered the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, a wanted killer, standing barefoot with a letter opener in hand, watching a cheerful maid fluff her pillows like it was just another Tuesday.

"So, what's your name?" Kairi asked suddenly, her tone still guarded but slightly less icy.

The maid looked up, surprised by the question. "Oh, it's Aiko," she said with a small smile. "And you are?"

"Doesn't matter," Kairi replied quickly, then softened her tone when she saw Aiko's startled expression. "I mean… you don't need to know. I'm just passing through."

Aiko shrugged, unfazed. "Fair enough. A lot of people are just passing through these days. The city's changing, you know? Doesn't feel like it used to."

Kairi's eyes narrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"

The maid paused, her hands resting on the handle of her cart. "I don't know. Just… feels like there's more tension in the air. People looking over their shoulders, locking their doors more often. The gangs, the police, all the rumors about that… what do they call her? The Pacifist?"

Kairi's heart skipped a beat, but her expression didn't waver. "Yeah, I've heard of her. Crazy stuff."

Aiko nodded, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know what to believe. Some people say she's a monster, others say she's a vigilante. Either way, it's scary knowing someone like that's out there."

Kairi let out a small laugh, dry and humorless. "Yeah, scary."

The maid glanced at her, as if trying to read her. "You don't seem scared."

"Maybe I've just seen worse," Kairi replied cryptically, shifting her weight against the wall.

Aiko smiled faintly and returned to her work, leaving Kairi to her thoughts. For a brief moment, the tension in the room eased, replaced by an odd sense of normalcy. But Kairi knew better than to let her guard down completely.

When Aiko finished, she gave a polite bow and wheeled her cart toward the door. "Thank you for letting me clean, ma'am. I hope you have a good night."

Kairi nodded, her grip on the letter opener finally loosening. "You too."

As the door clicked shut behind Aiko, Kairi let out a long, slow breath. The tension drained from her shoulders, but only slightly. She placed the letter opener back on the desk and stared at her reflection in the window.

"Even maids know my name now," she muttered to herself, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Guess I really am making an impression."

Kairi lay sprawled across the bed, her limbs heavy against the worn-out mattress. Her eyes traced the cracks in the ceiling, the faint hum of the city outside barely breaking the stillness of the room. For a brief moment, she thought she could let her guard down—just a second to close her eyes and let herself breathe.

And then her stomach growled.

Loudly.

It echoed through the quiet room like a threat, snapping her back to reality. She groaned and rolled onto her side, clutching her stomach. "You're kidding me," she muttered under her breath. "I already had ramen. How are you still this needy?"

Her stomach, of course, didn't answer.

Sighing, she sat up, running a hand through her messy hair. The faint scent of food wafted through the air—something fried, something savory. It must've been coming from the lobby downstairs. The thought of actually going down there made her hesitate, though. Too many people, too many chances for someone to recognize her face.

But hunger always won.

Kairi slipped on her shoes, her movements quiet and deliberate. She grabbed her jacket, flipping the hood up to conceal her face. As she approached the door, she paused, glancing at the letter opener still sitting on the desk. After a moment of consideration, she grabbed it, slipping it into her pocket. "Just in case," she whispered to herself, though the paranoia was starting to feel a bit excessive even for her.

Opening the door slowly, she peeked out into the hallway. Empty. Good. She slipped out and locked the door behind her, her footsteps light as she headed toward the elevator. The faint hum of fluorescent lights filled the corridor, and for a moment, she felt like a shadow drifting through the building, unnoticed and untouchable.

When the elevator doors slid open, she hesitated. The bright, mirrored walls felt too revealing, too exposed. After a moment, she opted for the stairs instead.

Descending the narrow staircase, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every creak of the wooden steps made her ears perk up, her grip tightening on the railing. Was it just her paranoia, or had the air in the building grown colder?

"Relax, Kairi," she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own footsteps. "It's just food. You're not walking into a war zone."

But then again, with her luck, maybe she was.

When she finally reached the lobby, she stopped at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the scene. It was surprisingly quiet for this hour—just a few guests milling about, most of them glued to newspapers or quietly sipping tea in the corner. The faint buzz of conversation blended with the soft clinking of dishes from the small café nestled in the corner of the lobby.

Her stomach growled again, and she winced, hoping no one heard it. She adjusted her hood and walked toward the café, keeping her head low.

The man behind the counter was a wiry middle-aged guy with glasses that looked one sneeze away from falling off his face. He gave her a polite nod as she approached. "Evening. What can I get you?"

Kairi glanced at the menu, her eyes darting over the options. "Uh… something cheap. And fast."

He raised an eyebrow. "How about a pork cutlet sandwich? We've got those ready to go."

She nodded. "Yeah, that works."

As the man turned to prepare her order, Kairi leaned against the counter, her eyes scanning the lobby. A man in a trench coat sat near the entrance, his face partially hidden behind a newspaper. Another guest, a woman with a loud laugh, was telling some long-winded story to a bored-looking friend.

It all seemed… normal.

Too normal.

Her attention snapped back to the counter when the man placed the sandwich in front of her. "That'll be 200 yen," he said, his tone neutral.

She fished the coins out of her pocket and handed them over, her gaze still darting around the room. As she turned to leave, sandwich in hand, her paranoia flared up again.

"Is it just me," she muttered under her breath, "or is everyone in this place just a little too casual?"

She chose a small table in the corner of the café, her back against the wall so she could keep an eye on the room. The first bite of the sandwich was divine—crispy, savory, exactly what she needed. For a moment, she let herself relax, savoring the food.

But then she noticed it.

The man with the newspaper. He hadn't turned a page in the past ten minutes.

Kairi's jaw tightened, her fingers pausing mid-reach for another bite. She placed the sandwich down carefully, her movements slow and deliberate. Her eyes locked onto the man, watching for any telltale signs—shifting posture, a hand reaching for a weapon, anything.

But nothing came.

The man simply folded his newspaper, stood up, and walked toward the exit without so much as a glance in her direction.

Kairi let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, shaking her head. "You're losing it," she muttered to herself.

The rest of her meal passed uneventfully, though the tension in her shoulders never fully eased. By the time she returned to her room, the only thing she felt was exhaustion.

Flopping back onto the bed, she stared at the ceiling again, her thoughts swirling. Maybe it was time to move to another hideout. Or maybe she needed to stop jumping in the shadows.

Either way, she knew one thing for sure: the city wasn't going to let her rest for long.

The hotel hallway was eerily silent as Kairi ascended the staircase, her steps soft against the worn carpet. She couldn't shake the faint prickle at the back of her neck, a feeling she knew all too well. Someone was following her.

She glanced over her shoulder, her movements casual enough not to draw suspicion. Sure enough, the man from downstairs—the one who hadn't turned a single page of his newspaper—was trailing a few paces behind. He wasn't even subtle about it. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed him.

Kairi's lips curved into a sly smirk. Amateur.

Instead of heading straight to her room, she slowed her pace, her boots dragging just enough to make her presence known. The man's steps mirrored hers, keeping a steady distance. She turned a corner, then another, weaving through the maze-like hallways as if she were heading to her room.

But she wasn't.

When she reached a dimly lit section of the corridor, she veered sharply to the left and slipped into a small alcove where a vending machine hummed quietly. The shadows swallowed her as she pressed her back against the wall, holding her breath.

The man rounded the corner moments later, his pace quickening. He paused in the middle of the hallway, his head swiveling as he realized she was gone.

Kairi watched him from the shadows, her eyes narrowing as she assessed his movements. His hand darted to his pocket—probably a weapon, she figured. She could practically smell the panic rolling off him as he muttered something under his breath, his free hand raking through his hair.

Leaning forward slightly, Kairi took a deep, silent breath. Then, with deliberate slowness, she stepped out of the shadows, her boots clicking softly against the floor.

"Looking for me?"

The man spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. His wide eyes landed on her, and she couldn't help but chuckle at the sheer terror etched across his face.

"You've got the subtlety of a drunk elephant," Kairi said, her tone laced with mockery. She crossed her arms, tilting her head as she sized him up. "Seriously, was that your plan? Follow me up here and hope I wouldn't notice? What's next? Jump out of a closet with a butter knife?"

The man's jaw worked, but no words came out. His hand stayed firmly in his pocket, though it was clear he wasn't prepared for this.

"Go ahead," Kairi said, gesturing lazily at his pocket. "Pull out whatever sad little weapon you've got in there. Let's see it. I could use a laugh."

He hesitated, his fingers twitching.

"Aw, don't be shy," she cooed, stepping closer. "What is it? A switchblade? A taser? Ooh, let me guess—a revolver you don't know how to load?"

"Shut up," the man finally spat, his voice trembling.

Kairi grinned. "There it is. A little fire. You might actually be fun after all."

She closed the distance between them in a single fluid motion, her sharp eyes locking onto his. Before he could react, her hand darted out and grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply. He yelped as a small knife clattered to the floor.

"Cute," Kairi said, kicking the blade away. "But you're gonna need a lot more than that if you want to take me on."

The man tried to pull his arm free, but Kairi tightened her grip, her expression darkening. "Now, here's the deal," she said, her voice dropping to a low, menacing tone. "You're gonna tell me who sent you, or we're gonna find out just how many bones I can break before you pass out."

His eyes darted around the hallway, looking for an escape, but there was none.

"Nobody sent me," he blurted out, his voice cracking. "I swear, I was just—"

"Lying won't end well for you," Kairi interrupted, her tone sharp enough to cut. She twisted his arm just enough to make him wince.

"Okay, okay!" he stammered. "I—I work for the Pacifist Destroyers! Tomas told me to follow you, that's all! I don't know anything else!"

Kairi's grip loosened slightly, but her glare didn't waver. "Tomas, huh?" she muttered. "Figures. That guy's about as reliable as a wet matchstick."

The man's knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, clutching his arm as Kairi released him. She took a step back, her expression unreadable.

"Here's a tip," she said, crouching down to meet his eye level. "Next time you're sent to tail someone, maybe don't pick the person who can smell fear from a mile away."

The man nodded frantically, his face pale.

"Now get out of here," Kairi said, standing up. "And if I see you again, you'll wish I hadn't."

He didn't need to be told twice. Scrambling to his feet, he bolted down the hallway, not even bothering to look back.

Kairi watched him go, her smirk returning. "Amateurs," she muttered, shaking her head.

As she turned to head back to her room, she couldn't help but laugh softly to herself. If this was the best the Pacifist Destroyers had to offer, they were in for a rude awakening.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway, causing Kairi to pause mid-step. She glanced over her shoulder to see the man skidding to a stop, chest heaving, his face twisted with determination.

"Can't let Tomas down," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. He clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening as he glared at Kairi.

Kairi sighed and turned fully to face him, her hand rising to pinch the bridge of her nose. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered. "Didn't I just let you off easy?"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he let out a guttural yell and charged at her, his footsteps heavy and uncoordinated.

Kairi's hand dropped to her side, and she tilted her head, watching him with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Alright, if you insist," she murmured.

As the man swung a wild right hook, Kairi effortlessly leaned back, the blow missing her face by mere inches. She kept her stance relaxed, her arms loosely at her sides as she danced around his frantic attacks.

He threw a left jab next, followed by a sloppy uppercut, but Kairi weaved around each strike with ease, her movements smooth and deliberate. Her eyes stayed locked on him, analyzing every flaw in his technique.

"You're predictable," she said, sidestepping another punch. "And slow. Do you even know how to throw a proper punch?"

The man growled in frustration, his swings growing more erratic. He lunged forward, aiming a haymaker at her temple. Kairi ducked under it, pivoting on her heel as she slipped behind him.

"Telegraphing your moves like that? Rookie mistake," she quipped, tapping him lightly on the back of the head as if to taunt him.

The man stumbled, his balance faltering, but he quickly recovered and spun around, his face red with anger. He swung again, this time aiming low, but Kairi hopped back, the blow missing her by a hair.

"Gotta admit, you're persistent," she said, a grin tugging at her lips. "Stupid, but persistent."

The man roared and charged again, attempting to tackle her, but Kairi sidestepped at the last second, letting him crash into the wall. The impact sent a dull thud reverberating through the hallway, and the man groaned as he staggered back.

"You're not even making me break a sweat," Kairi said, shaking her head. "At this point, it's just embarrassing."

She decided to up the ante, shifting her weight slightly as her stance became more solid. The man came at her again, his fists flying in a desperate flurry. This time, Kairi didn't just dodge—she countered.

As his right hook came sailing toward her, she parried it with her forearm, redirecting the force to the side. She followed up with a sharp palm strike to his chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps.

Before he could recover, she stepped in and swept his legs out from under him with a well-timed low kick. The man hit the floor hard, the air rushing out of his lungs in a wheeze.

Kairi loomed over him, her gaze cold and unrelenting. "Do you even know why Tomas sent you after me?" she asked, her tone sharp.

The man struggled to push himself up, coughing as he clutched his ribs. "I... I don't need to know," he rasped. "I just follow orders."

Kairi crouched down beside him, her voice dropping to a low, almost threatening whisper. "Well, here's a little tip for your next mission—if you can't handle the target, maybe don't pick a fight you can't win."

She stood up and took a step back, watching as the man finally managed to get to his knees. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and frustration.

"Go home," Kairi said, her voice laced with finality. "And tell Tomas that if he really wants me, he should come find me himself."

The man hesitated for a moment, his pride warring with his survival instincts. But eventually, he lowered his gaze and nodded, crawling to his feet and limping away.

Kairi watched him disappear down the hallway, her smirk returning. "Amateurs," she muttered under her breath before turning back toward her room. This wasn't the last she'd hear of Tomas or his lackeys, but for now, she had other things to focus on.

Kairi rubbed her temples as she walked back toward her room, muttering about the "idiocy of amateurs" under her breath. She had barely reached her door when a faint sound behind her made her pause.

Her eyes narrowed, her senses prickling. "What now?" she muttered, turning her head slightly.

Before she could react, a shadow shifted in her peripheral vision, and the maid from earlier—the one she had dismissed without a second thought—stepped into view. Her expression was serene, her movements unnervingly quiet, and she held a cleaning rag in one hand like it was a weapon.

Kairi blinked at her. "You again?"

The maid tilted her head, her calm demeanor betraying nothing. "Your room is still quite messy. I thought I'd finish cleaning."

"Messy?" Kairi's brow twitched as she glanced down at the spotless hallway carpet beneath her feet. "Lady, I don't think I'm the one making a mess right now."

The maid took a step closer, her polished shoes making no sound against the floor. Kairi instinctively took a step back, her annoyance mounting.

"You're awfully dedicated to your job," Kairi said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Let me guess—cleaning assassins off the floor is in your job description too?"

The maid's lips twitched into the faintest of smirks, her gaze steady as she replied, "Perhaps. Would you like to find out?"

Kairi immediately tensed, her hand twitching toward the pocket where she kept her blade. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me," she muttered.

Before she could draw, the maid lunged—swift and silent. Kairi barely had time to dodge as the rag in the maid's hand whipped past her face, missing her by a fraction of an inch.

"Seriously?!" Kairi exclaimed, jumping back. "A rag? What are you, a discount ninja?"

The maid's expression remained eerily composed as she adjusted her posture. "A clean environment is crucial," she said, her tone deadpan. "Even when dealing with pests."

Kairi's jaw dropped for a moment before she burst out laughing. "Oh, wow! Did you just call me a pest? That's adorable." She straightened up, wiping a tear from her eye. "Alright, Miss Perfect, you wanna play? Let's play."

The maid lunged again, this time aiming a precise strike with her free hand. Kairi sidestepped and retaliated with a quick jab, but the maid spun gracefully, avoiding the blow and slipping behind her.

"Fast," Kairi muttered, pivoting to keep her in view. "I'll give you that. But you seriously think you can sneak up on me?"

The maid didn't answer, instead flicking her wrist. The rag she wielded unfurled, revealing a thin, glimmering blade hidden within its folds.

Kairi stared at it for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. "Wait, is that a knife in a rag? Who even does that?!"

The maid allowed herself the faintest of chuckles. "A true professional makes use of every tool at their disposal."

"Yeah, well, I hope your dental plan covers this." Kairi leaped forward, feinting a punch before twisting mid-air and delivering a sharp kick aimed at the maid's shoulder.

The maid parried with her arm, but the force of Kairi's kick sent her skidding back a few feet. She adjusted her stance quickly, her composure unshaken.

"Impressive," the maid said softly.

"Impressive? That's all you've got?" Kairi smirked, leaning lazily against the wall. "Listen, I don't know what your deal is, but if this is about Tomas, he's not paying you enough to deal with me."

The maid's gaze flickered for a moment—was that amusement?—before she settled back into her stance.

Kairi groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Alright, fine. Let's just get this over with before the hotel charges me for breaking something."

And then, with a shared unspoken agreement, they clashed again, their movements a chaotic dance of precision and improvisation, punctuated by Kairi's exasperated quips and the maid's calm retorts. The tension hung in the air, sharp and electric, but beneath it all was an undeniable, almost comedic absurdity to their duel.

"Honestly," Kairi huffed between dodges, "this is the weirdest room service I've ever had."

Kairi stood in the center of her hotel room, rubbing her temples and muttering under her breath. "First Tomas, now random knife-wielding maids. I swear, if I don't get five minutes of peace, I'm gonna—"

Tap.

Her ears twitched. The faintest sound, a step so light it could've been a ghost's. Kairi froze, instincts flaring.

She didn't turn around immediately, instead exhaling deeply through her nose. "I know you're there," she said, her voice laced with both irritation and boredom. "Whoever you are, whatever you're planning, just… don't. Trust me, it's not gonna end well for you."

The room fell silent. Too silent.

"Alright, fine," Kairi sighed, reaching for a knife on the table. "Let's get this over wi—"

WHOOSH.

A blur zipped past her peripheral vision. Kairi jumped back instinctively, her blade up, as the figure of Aiko emerged from the shadows.

"BOO!" Aiko exclaimed with a sly grin, her petite frame leaning against the wall.

Kairi stared at her, unamused. "You've got to be kidding me."

Aiko tilted her head, her raven-black hair spilling over one shoulder as her wide, mischievous eyes glinted in the low light. She twirled what looked like a duster in her hands, as if it were some kind of weapon. "Surprised to see me again?"

"I wasn't expecting you, no," Kairi deadpanned. She gestured vaguely to Aiko's attire. "Did you at least change out of your maid uniform this time? Or is that still part of your whole… aesthetic?"

Aiko smirked, holding up the duster. "You'd be surprised how many people underestimate a cleaning tool. Very versatile. Very effective."

Kairi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Let me guess—you're not here to clean, are you?"

Aiko grinned wider, taking a step forward. "Oh, I don't know. Cleaning up you might be fun."

"Really? That's the line you're going with?" Kairi muttered, rolling her eyes. "You've been watching too many cheap action flicks."

Aiko lunged, her movements sharp and precise. Kairi sidestepped with practiced ease, her eyes narrowing. "Seriously? I can't tell if you're trying to kill me or sell me on vacuum cleaner upgrades."

Aiko chuckled, feinting to the left before spinning to the right. "Maybe both! A clean kill, so to speak."

Kairi ducked under another swing, this time laughing. "You're ridiculous. Who even fights like this? You're waving that duster around like it's a katana."

"And yet," Aiko quipped, flipping the duster over to reveal a hidden blade in the handle, "I'm still keeping you on your toes."

Kairi blinked at the blade, then let out a slow, exaggerated sigh. "Of course. Of course there's a knife in the duster. Because why wouldn't there be?"

Before Aiko could respond, Kairi flicked her wrist, her knife grazing past Aiko's side—not enough to wound, but enough to throw her off balance. Aiko stumbled back, catching herself against the wall, her grin never faltering.

"You're good," Aiko admitted, spinning the duster-blade in her hand.

"And you're annoying," Kairi shot back, cracking her neck. "Why are you even here? Did Tomas send you, or is this just your way of passing the time?"

Aiko's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Does it matter?"

"It does when I'm the one getting sneak-attacked by maids," Kairi snapped, lunging forward.

Their movements clashed in a flurry of dodges and strikes, each countering the other with an almost playful rhythm. It wasn't long before Kairi, mid-dodge, started laughing.

"You know," she said between breaths, "for someone trying to kill me, you're weirdly entertaining."

Aiko raised an eyebrow. "I aim to please."

"Well, stop aiming," Kairi retorted, spinning on her heel and delivering a swift kick to Aiko's wrist, disarming her. The duster-blade clattered to the ground, and Kairi stepped on it, pinning it down.

Aiko raised her hands in mock surrender, her grin never fading. "Alright, alright. Truce?"

Kairi leaned in slightly, her knife still at the ready. "Truce, huh? You really think I'm that gullible?"

"Not gullible," Aiko said with a wink. "Just bored. Admit it—this made your night way more interesting."

Kairi paused, her lips twitching as if she were fighting back a smile. "...Maybe."

The two stood there for a moment, the tension in the air slowly diffusing into something almost absurdly casual.

"So," Aiko said, breaking the silence, "still want that cleaning service?"

Kairi groaned, stepping back and letting her guard down slightly. "You're impossible."

"And you're fun," Aiko countered, retrieving her duster-blade and twirling it back into its harmless form.

Kairi shook her head, muttering under her breath as she turned back toward her room. "Next time, bring an actual vacuum. At least then I'll have something to laugh at."

Aiko chuckled softly, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as she'd appeared. "Careful, Pacifist. You might start to like me."

"Doubt it," Kairi called over her shoulder, though a small smirk tugged at her lips as she closed her door.