The alarm buzzed with the insistent shrill of reality. Ren's fingers hesitated over the snooze button, caught between exhaustion and instinct. The city outside was still coated in the grime of early morning fog, faint amber streetlights reflecting off wet asphalt, still smelling faintly of salt and smoke from the docks.
His body ached, every joint and muscle reminding him of last night. The docks, the crates, the heavy blood-stained canvas bags—they lingered in his memory like a sickly perfume. The target had screamed, the fog had burned, and yet… it had been too easy. That was what bothered him most. Too easy, too clean. There would be consequences, always consequences.
He swung his legs off the bed, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that begged for just a moment of rest. Mariko would notice if he lingered too long. She had a way of finding him, even in his silences. The apartment was quiet, a fragile calm. The morning light spilled over the scar on her cheek, making it glow faintly—an unintentional reminder of what he had failed to prevent.
Ren dressed in his standard civilian uniform, carefully neutral in appearance. No attention drawn, no flashy gestures. He moved with the precision of habit, every movement silent but calculated. His notebook lay tucked in his bag, ordinary on the outside, but inside… coded lines, symbols, and notations of every civilian, minor hero, and potential political target he had observed. Every microexpression, every glimmer of energy, every routine was cataloged.
---
The bell echoed in the hallways as he stepped onto the school grounds. Students bustled past, careless, loud, oblivious to the invisible lines of surveillance threading between them. Two classmates, minor but observant, approached him.
"Ren! You left early yesterday," said Toma, his voice bright and teasing, "did something happen?"
Beside him, Kaito leaned against a locker, brow furrowed. "Yeah, you just… disappeared. You're acting weird again. Everything okay?"
Ren's chest tightened slightly. He forced a laugh, casual, light. "Ah, errands," he said smoothly, shrugging. "Family stuff. Nothing exciting."
Toma frowned slightly but let it pass. Kaito raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. Neither knew the truth. Neither could. He would never let himself enjoy the fleeting comfort of their attention, no matter how genuine it felt. Smiles, friendship… they were luxuries he couldn't afford. It was a facade, a mask layered over the real one—the one no one saw.
"Right," Ren muttered under his breath, walking ahead. The school's corridors stretched long and narrow, fluorescent lights humming faintly. He noticed patterns: students' interactions, security cameras subtly tracking the halls, teachers' routines. Even here, in the mundane, shadows moved. Some he could manipulate. Others he simply cataloged.
---
During civics class, Ren kept his gaze mostly down, pencil tracing neat lines across his notebook. But his mind was elsewhere. A new student had arrived last week, the child of a mid-tier political figure. Not flashy, not noticeable, but the Cloaks were interested. Information, influence, future leverage.
Ren's gaze flicked toward the back corner, where the student sat, unobtrusive but present. Every minor movement, every glance, every interaction with classmates was noted mentally. Was the boy naturally cautious? Naïve? Alert? Each detail was ammunition for future operations.
Toma nudged him lightly. "You're quiet today," she whispered, leaning closer. "Daydreaming again?"
Ren glanced up, masking annoyance with a casual smirk. "Just thinking," he replied. "Too many things on my mind, I guess." He felt a flicker of guilt. Not for the Cloaks. Not yet. But for lying, for hiding. A part of him craved normalcy, even as he dismissed it immediately.
Kaito gave him a knowing look. "Well, don't get lost in your thoughts too much. You might miss something important."
Ren's lips twitched. "Not likely," he said, tone dry, walking back to his seat.
---
In the cafeteria, the sunlight fell through tall windows, making the dust motes dance lazily. Ren ate quietly at the edge of the room, scanning the crowd with habitual scrutiny. Two girls laughed over a spilled drink, a boy tripped over a chair. Chaos in miniature. Every pattern, every anomaly, added to the map of this place in his mind.
Toma and Kaito joined him briefly, sharing mundane jokes. Ren nodded, smiled faintly when necessary, but kept his attention divided. Every conversation, every laugh was a layer of camouflage. Inside, he felt hollow. The day was fake. His connections were fake. And yet… he kept moving, because pretending was survival.
---
A faint scuffle outside caught his attention—a younger student being cornered by bullies. His eyes narrowed, impulses stirring. He considered intervening, but calculating the risk, he stayed in his seat. The Cloaks' instructions were clear: no unnecessary exposure. No deviations from assigned tasks. Not yet.
Still, the thought lingered. He watched as the minor conflict escalated, eventually dispersing with bruises and tears. The city's cruelty wasn't limited to night. It existed everywhere, even in the harmless halls of a school.
---
Classes dragged on. Ren moved between lectures, keeping tabs on the political figure's child as assigned by the Cloaks. Subtle notes on posture, minor abilities flickering faintly beneath the skin, interactions with peers. Each observation stored for later reports. Each glance was a thread, a potential lever for future missions.
Toma whispered again, "You always seem… different. Like you're here, but not really."
Ren's hand twitched slightly over his notebook. "I'm fine," he said flatly, tone final. Nothing more. The facade had to hold. No cracks.
The school bell rang, signaling the end of classes. Students poured out into the streets, noisy, unaware of the silent calculations being made around them. Ren followed, keeping a distance from his targets, noting exits, habits, and routines.
---
A faint buzz in his earpiece broke the mundane rhythm. The low, almost imperceptible vibration carried the weight of urgency.
Ren froze, eyes narrowing. It was a Cloaks alert. Another operation. Closer this time. Daylight. Civilian exposure. Stakes higher.
His mind flicked through variables, escape routes, potential witnesses, and risk factors. The political figure's child—still in motion, still under observation—was now potentially at risk. Every calculation, every map in his head, every note in his notebook became critical.
He glanced at Toma and Kaito, laughing a few steps ahead, completely unaware. A pang hit him—not guilt, not yet, but… the impossible thought of connection. He shoved it down immediately. They couldn't know. They could never know.
The city shifted around him as he moved, blending in, flowing through the streets as if part of the current. The Cloaks' instructions burned in his mind. No hesitation. No compassion. No mistakes.
And as he stepped into the alley that would take him closer to the night's operation, his heartbeat quickened—not with fear, but with anticipation. The day life was fragile, a thin veneer. The night, however… the night was reality.
---
Ren's earpiece buzzed again, sharper this time: coordinates, targets, and instructions.
The facade of school, friends, and normalcy hung by a thread. He looked up at the sun glinting off the distant skyscrapers, a world oblivious to the purple shadows moving silently beneath.
He adjusted his bag, tightened the straps, and whispered under his breath, almost to himself:
"Let's see how deep this rabbit hole really goes."