The agents' workspace still carried the low hum of residual adrenaline from the last operation. Screens glowed soft blue along the walls. Coffee cups sat half-empty on desks. The air smelled faintly of toner and the cheap instant coffee someone always left brewing too long.
Director Yuzuriha stepped through the doorway without ceremony. His presence alone straightened every spine in the room. He stopped in the center, hands clasped loosely behind his back, and looked them over.
"Good work tonight," he said. His voice was even, not loud. "The Board is satisfied. That doesn't mean you get to coast. Stay sharp. Keep giving it everything."
A chorus of "Yes, sir" rolled back at him, firm and immediate.
Yuzuriha nodded once. "I'll leave it there." He turned toward the door, then paused mid-step and glanced over his shoulder.
"Sakura. Tachibana. Nirei. Suo. Sugishita. My office. Now."
The five exchanged quick looks. Nirei's eyebrows climbed. "Sounds serious," he muttered under his breath.
Suo adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, already moving. "That's exactly why we go."
Sakura gave a short nod. Kotoha fell in beside him without a word. Sugishita simply pushed off the desk he'd been leaning against and followed.
As the five left, Tsugeura lifted a hand in a lazy wave. Kiryu stretched his arms over his head until his spine cracked, then reached for the coffee mug on his desk. He took a slow sip, eyes still on the empty doorway.
"Wonder what that's about," he said.
Tsugeura glanced over. "Why do you say it like that?"
Kiryu set the mug down. "Sakura and Kotoha are two of the sharpest we've got. Pulling them *and* Nirei, Suo, and Sugishita at the same time? That's not routine. That's the kind of thing the Board keeps off the open floor."
Tsugeura exhaled through his nose. "True."
---
Yuzuriha's office was quieter than the workspace. The only light came from a single desk lamp and the city glow leaking through the half-drawn blinds. He waved them in before they could finish the formal salute.
"Ease off. We're past the parade-ground part."
He leaned against the edge of his desk, arms folded. "Vigilante network flagged a shipment moving through Senkan Shipyard. Multiple narcotics. The primary collector is a middleman who takes delivery and sells to private buyers. We don't have a confirmed name yet, only a location and a time window."
He looked at Sakura and Kotoha first. "You two locate the collector and bring him in. Alive."
"Understood," Sakura said. His voice was flat, already locked on the task.
Kotoha's expression tightened slightly. "The product's been turning up in civilian food supply. That tracks with the recent cluster of hospital cases."
Yuzuriha gave a short nod. "Exactly. Nirei, Suo, Sugishita—you stay on standby. If the situation turns, you move. No heroics, no freelancing."
All five answered at once.
Yuzuriha bent, dragged a cardboard carton out from beside the desk, and set it on the surface with a soft thud. The flaps were already open. Inside lay an assortment of plain civilian clothes, work jackets, caps, and a couple of weathered messenger bags.
"Disguises. Pick what fits and what doesn't look like you. You're dismissed the moment you're ready."
---
Night had fully settled by the time they reached the outer approach to Senkan Shipyard. The air tasted of salt and rust. A thin breeze pushed off the water, cool enough to raise the fine hairs on the backs of their necks. Overhead, a half-moon hung behind thin cloud, throwing just enough light to silver the edges of stacked cargo containers and the skeletal arms of the cranes.
Nirei checked the GPS on his phone, screen brightness turned down to the lowest setting. "The access road veers off the main route about four hundred meters ahead. Isolated on purpose, looks like."
Suo's voice stayed quiet. "Business like this never sits on the thoroughfare."
Sakura kept walking, boots nearly silent on the cracked asphalt. "We're burning time. Move."
Kotoha matched his pace. Her eyes tracked the dark outlines of the buildings. "If the drugs are already in the food chain, every hour we wait is another civilian who doesn't know what they're swallowing."
They reached the perimeter. The main gate sat under a single weak floodlight that buzzed faintly. A man in a dark jacket leaned against the guard post, arms crossed, weight on one hip. He looked bored enough to be dangerous.
Nirei, Suo, and Sugishita peeled off toward the entrance without needing the order spoken aloud. Sakura and Kotoha cut left, sliding into the deeper shadow between two rows of stacked containers. The metal still held the day's residual heat; it radiated against their sleeves as they passed.
At the gate, the guard straightened a fraction when the three approached. Nirei lifted a hand in an easy, unthreatening gesture and started talking—something about a late delivery, wrong paperwork, the usual noise that kept a bored man occupied.
Behind the containers, Sakura crouched low. Kotoha settled beside him, one knee down, the other braced. She could hear the low murmur of conversation from the gate, the occasional metallic creak of cooling steel, and the distant slap of water against the dock pilings.
They waited for the moment the guard's attention locked fully on the three at the entrance.
Then they moved.