The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pavement and distant jasmine. Hana and Chou moved cautiously through the darkened streets, their footsteps muffled by the damp earth beneath them. The city felt eerily quiet after the chaos of their last mission, but Hana knew better than to let her guard down. Danger didn't announce itself with sirens—it lurked in the silence, in the shadows that stretched too long beneath flickering streetlights.
Chou walked beside her, her usual easy-going stride slightly off. It was subtle—so subtle that no one else would've noticed—but Hana did. The way Chou shifted her weight, the careful way she carried herself, all of it screamed pain.
Hana exhaled sharply, gripping the strap of her bag. "You should've let me carry you."
Chou let out a soft chuckle. "What, like a princess? That'd ruin my image."
Hana rolled her eyes. "Your image is already a mess."
"Ouch. Harsh." Chou grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Hana hated that grin. That damn grin Chou always used to pretend everything was fine when it wasn't. When she was hurting, when she was exhausted, when she was barely holding it together.
The safe house wasn't far now. Just a few more turns, a few more steps. Then they could breathe.
Hana glanced at Chou again. The faint glow of a distant neon sign cast shadows on her face, highlighting the curve of her cheekbone, the slight furrow in her brow.
"You're not fooling me," Hana muttered.
Chou raised a brow. "Huh?"
"The pain. I know you're hurting."
Chou sighed dramatically. "Wow, am I really that easy to read?"
Hana didn't answer.
They reached the safe house—a run-down apartment tucked between two abandoned buildings. Hana moved ahead, scanning their surroundings one last time before unlocking the door.
Inside, the room was dim, the air stale with dust and disuse. The space was small—a battered couch, a rickety table, and a bed shoved into the corner—but it was secure. That was all that mattered.
The moment the door clicked shut, Chou let out a groan and collapsed onto the couch.
"Ugh, finally," she sighed. "My legs were about to fall off."
Hana snorted. "You act like we just ran a marathon."
"Didn't we, though? With bullets?"
Hana shook her head, already rummaging through the first-aid kit tucked in the cabinet.
"Alright, let me see it," she said, turning back to Chou.
Chou groaned. "Again?"
"Yes, again." Hana crossed her arms. "You're not bleeding all over the floor, so that's a good sign, but I'm not taking chances."
Chou muttered something under her breath but sat up, pulling her jacket aside. The bandage around her side was already stained with blood. Hana frowned.
"You need rest," she said, kneeling beside the couch to get a better look.
"I'll be fine by morning," Chou said, waving her off.
Hana shot her a look. "You say that like you won't go running into another fight the moment I turn my back."
Chou winked. "Who, me?"
"Exactly you."
Chou smirked, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something softer. "Hey. I know you're worried, but I promise I won't do anything reckless."
Hana hesitated. "You never keep your promises."
Chou chuckled. "Okay, fair. But I'll try."
For some reason, that made Hana's chest feel tight.
She exhaled sharply, turning away. "Just… don't make me regret trusting you."
A silence stretched between them before Chou spoke, her voice quieter than before.
"I won't."
And for the first time in a long time, Hana wanted to believe her.