Every Breath Watched.

Chapter 18: Every Breath Watched

Iruma knew what it meant to hunt a man.

Not just track, not just investigate, but hunt.

He had spent years refining the art. The delicate balance of observation and pressure, of tightening the walls around a target's world until there was nowhere left to run.

This should have been easy.

But Aqua wasn't just a man. He was something else-something that didn't leave footprints, didn't cast shadows, didn't even seem to breathe unless he wanted to.

Iruma leaned back in his chair, eyes locked onto the wall of monitors in front of him. A collection of surveillance feeds, traffic cameras, private security footage-each one tracking a different part of the city.

Somewhere in that maze of movement, Aqua should be there.

But every time Iruma thought he had him, Aqua simply... wasn't.

"Again," he said, voice steady.

The officer beside him hesitated. "Sir, we've already-"

"Again."

The footage rewound. The timestamps flickered. The feed played in reverse, and then forward again.

The intersection where Aqua had been spotted was busy -cars moving, pedestrians walking, life continuing as usual.

And then, a flicker.

Aqua was there one frame-crossing the street, head down, unreadable.

Then he was gone.

Not blurred, not cut out. Gone.

As if the world itself had decided he no longer belonged in it.

Iruma's fingers tapped against the desk. His men stood tense behind him, waiting for orders, but there was nothing to give.

How do you chase a ghost?

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The silence in the control room stretched thin, heavy with something unspoken.

Aqua's gaze was still locked onto the camera, still locked onto them.

It wasn't a glance.

It wasn't curiosity.

It was acknowledgment.

Iruma's breath came slow and controlled, but his pulse quickened beneath the surface. He'd seen countless criminals crack under surveillance, their nerves betraying them in the smallest gestures. He'd seen people bolt, sweat, hesitate-act human.

Aqua did none of that.

He just stood there, unbothered. Unflinching.

It was as if he had been watching them first.

"Get someone there now," Iruma ordered, voice calm but firm.

The officer on the other end hesitated. "Sir, with all due respect-"

"I said now."

The radio went silent for a brief second, then crackled back. "Sending in three officers from nearby. ETA two minutes."

Iruma kept his eyes locked on the feed.

Aqua hadn't moved. The streetlight above him flickered again, a slow, dying pulse. The street was deserted at this hour-only the occasional car passing by, the neon glow of distant signs painting the pavement in fractured colors.

Then, without warning, Aqua smiled.

A small, knowing thing. Almost amused.

And the feed cut to static.

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"Get it back," Iruma ordered, already moving.

"We're trying, sir," the technician said, fingers flying across the keyboard. "The camera's completely offline."

Iruma grabbed his coat. "I want live updates from the team en route."

The officers were already in position, their voices crackling through the radio.

"Approaching the target's last known location. No visual yet."

"Stay sharp," Iruma said. "He's aware of us."

He moved toward the exit, his mind racing. Surveillance didn't just fail like this-not without external interference. Either Aqua had some serious backing, or there was something far more unnatural at play.

Neither option sat well with him.

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By the time Iruma reached the location, his officers were already sweeping the area. The streetlight above them flickered weakly, casting long, disjointed shadows across the pavement.

"Report," Iruma said as he stepped out of his car.

One of the officers turned. "He's gone, sir. No sign of him."

"Traffic cams?"

"We pulled nearby feeds," another officer said. "They should've caught him leaving, but..."

Iruma exhaled sharply. "Let me guess. Nothing."

The officer nodded. "It's like he just... disappeared."

Iruma scanned the area. The city hummed around them, oblivious to the hunt playing out in its veins. But something was wrong.

Aqua had been here.

And then, he hadn't.

His eyes flickered to the ground. The pavement was cracked in some places, lined with the usual grime of a city that never truly rested. Nothing seemed unusual-until he noticed something just at the edge of the sidewalk.

A shoeprint.

Barely visible. Almost faded. But distinct enough.

A single step. And then-nothing.

No continuation. No second footprint to follow.

Like the ground had swallowed him whole.

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Iruma returned to HQ with more questions than answers.

Every lead, every angle they chased, seemed to collapse the moment they got close. Aqua wasn't just slipping through cracks in the system-he was creating them.

Hours passed in quiet, tense analysis. Iruma's men combed through reports, filtered through calls, ran data cross-checks. But every trail they followed ended the same way.

With nothing.

It was infuriating. No one was that clean. No one moved through the world without leaving a single mark.

But Aqua did.

Or rather he chose when to leave them.

Iruma stared at the recovered footage from earlier. It was still mostly corrupted, but the last frame-the final frame before the camera had died-remained intact.

He played it again.

Aqua, standing beneath the flickering streetlight. That same unreadable smile.

But Iruma's focus drifted past him.

To what stood behind him.

A dark shape. Indistinct. Formless.

Watching.

Waiting.

Iruma's fingers tightened around the mouse. He wasn't sure if he was looking at some kind of digital artifact or something else entirely.

But for the first time in years, a cold, unwelcome thought crept into his mind.

What if Aqua wasn't just a ghost in the system?

What if something was moving with him?

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One of the junior officers, Tanaka, sprinted into the room, breathless. "Sir-you need to see this."

Iruma turned. The room fell silent as the officer pulled up the footage.

It was grainy, captured from a different street cam. Aqua was there-walking, alone. But the time stamp was wrong.

It was from ten minutes ago.

And yet, the footage from another district showed him at the exact same time.

Impossible.

The room tensed. Officers gathered around, murmuring.

Iruma exhaled, staring at the screens.

"...Either we're chasing a ghost." His eyes darkened.

"Or there's more than one Aqua."

Every officer in the room tensed.

The screen continued to flicker.

Then, slowly-one of the Aqua smiled.

A slow, deliberate movement.

As if he could see them. As if he knew.

Iruma felt something cold crawl up his spine.

And then, the feed cut to black.

"Reboot it," he snapped.

The technician fumbled with the controls. "It's not responding."

Iruma stood. "Switch to another angle."

Another screen lit up. This time, a different camera-one positioned further down the street.

The streetlight was still there. The pavement, the traffic, the moving world.

But Aqua was gone.

Vanished.

Iruma's jaw tightened. He turned to his men.

"Find him."

Hours later, the footage was recovered. The distortion had corrupted most of it, but one final frame remained.

Iruma stared at it.

At him.

Aqua, standing still. Head tilted. That same unreadable smile.

But it wasn't Aqua that unsettled Iruma.

It was the second figure.

Standing directly behind him.

No face. No form. Just a shadow.

Watching back.

The security camera had caught something.

And for the first time-Iruma wasn't sure if they were watching Aqua.

Or if something else had been watching them.