No Rest for the Weary

New World Tower, Shinsekai  //  Naniwa Ward

Holographic barriers flicker and pulse, cordoning off the front door lobby of New World Tower. Officers in their black and blue tactical uniforms swarm in and out of the crime scene while Enforcement drones whirr as they hover in the surrounding area overhead.

Mika sits on the open tailgate of an ambulance, her posture stiff as a medic carefully examines her inflicted wound. The medic holds a portable MRI scanner over Mika’s bandaged waist, studying the live images on a tablet displaying Mika’s vitals. She nods to herself, satisfied with what she sees.

“The applied biofoam is working. Your wound is already closing nicely, the medic says, tapping on her tablet, “you’re lucky the blade didn’t pierce too deep. It’s a miracle, really.”

Mika barely seems to hear her, her gaze distant as if she’s preoccupied with something more pressing than her injury.

“You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” the medic asks, glancing up at her.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” Mika replies curtly.

The medic shrugs, tucking her scanner back into her bag. “Then don’t exert yourself for 48 hours. Let the biofoam do its job.”

Mika nods absently.

“Shinkawa!” Corporal Touma Hayashi jogs over, his face tight with concern. “How are you holding up?”

“Corporal Hayashi.” She performs a casual salute at her superior. “I’m fine. The armor stopped most of its velocity.”

“Body armor is stab-resistant, not stab-proof,” he chides. “And you shouldn’t have gone after the suspect alone, either. That was reckless.”

“I know, but lives were at risk.”

Touma sighs and rubs his temple. “I can’t believe all this escalated from a routine stop-and-search.”

“So I hit the jackpot,” Mika says with a faint smirk. “Want to join me at the casino? I probably have some luck on me still.”

“I’ll pass. What made you stop this suspect in particular?”

“He was suspicious,” Mika replies, her gaze steady. “Kept looking over his shoulder, acting nervous.”

Touma groans. “The Sergeant wonders why civilians hate patrols so much.”

“Anyways,” Mika strains herself, sliding off the ambulance.

“Where are you going?” Touma asks, trailing her.

“The storage chip. I need to find it.”

“Don’t worry. A bystander found it in the planters next door and turned it in. It’s already on its way to headquarters for analysis.”

“Alright. Take me to Tomomi, then.”

“No,” Touma replies, crossing his arms. “I’m taking you home.”

“Why? I think we’ve stumbled onto something big. I need to know what’s on that chip.”

“What’s the rush? Tomomi won’t be analyzing it until tomorrow. Get some rest.”

She clenches her fists. “This could be it. My big break. Promotion out of patrol duty. I could finally make a real difference, Touma.”

Touma sighs heavily. “Mika, I've seen you clean up the ward in your three years at the department. You’re already our star officer. A promotion is just a matter of time.”

“Matter of time? Like what? Months? Years?”

“You know how well bureaucracy works. Besides, if this case is as big as you think, it’s going to get passed to senior investigators. Or even Interpol.”

“There has to be a way for me to stay involved,” Mika insists.

“Trying to leapfrog a few ranks up the ladder?” Touma remarks, frustrated that she probably could. Opportunities seem to appear for her out of thin air.

“Is that a crime?” Mika quips back.

“No, but—”

“Let me see what I can find first before you file your report.” Mika narrows her eyes, determined. “I don’t want to keep doing random searches much longer.”

Touma hesitates.

“Please?” Mika adds, forming her doe-eyed expression.

Touma stiffens slightly, bracing himself. But he groans and pushes his glasses back up, resistance faltering. “You can’t pull that all the time, you know. I’ll see what I can do. Come on, get some rest,” Touma says, exasperated. He opens the Enforcement cruiser’s passenger door, gesturing for her to get in.

She hesitates, waiting for a real answer. But she eventually slides in the passenger seat, returning to her stoic expression. He closes the door and rounds to the driver’s seat, driving out of the crime scene.

High above, a dark silhouette watches from the rooftop, eyes tracking the cruiser as it disappears into the city blocks.

***

Mika’s Condo, LUX Heights 2 Building   //  Nishinari Ward

Dressed in an oversized T-shirt and comfortable shorts, Mika flops onto the bed while exhaling an exhausting groan. Her room is plain, stripped of any decor beyond the bare necessities—a bed, a cheap kitchen table doubling as her workstation, and a singular chair tucked under it. She never uses her apartment for more than sleeping, so why bother decorating, she thought when she moved in.

Despite its lofty name, the LUX Heights 2 building—with no apparent predecessor—is a modest six-story structure with narrow corridors and paper-thin walls. The sounds of neighbors—footsteps, pipes groaning with rushing water, doors creaking open and shut—are heard at all hours. But by now, Mika barely notices them.

As she rolls onto her side, her fingers brush against the wound she sustained earlier. She peels back the bandages a tad and peeks under it. Still good. With a soft exhale, she picks up her phone and slides it open with her thumb, activating the hologram display. A glowing screen materializes and floats lazily in front of her. She runs past the headlines in her feed:

· Rebel Fighters Quashed in the Skirmish of Sardinia with 5,000 United Army Soldiers

· Sudden Cotton Ball Shortage in Tokyo Frustrates Residents

· Raid on Illegal Weapons Factory in Appalachia

· Osaka’s Hottest New Takoyaki Cart Only Pops Up At Night

· Restoration Efforts On Osaka Castle Delayed Even Further, No Explanation Given

“Ooh, gotta try that out,” she mutters and hearts the Takoyaki story to save it for later.

Having enough of doomscrolling, she sighs and slides the phone shut again. The hologram disappears, its blue light no longer illuminating her face.

She gazes out the small window by her bed. The narrow street below is dimly lit. Most windows in the apartment blocks opposite are dark for the night. An ambulance siren wails in the distance, fading into the hum of the city. Usually, the noisy urban soundscape soothes Mika like therapy. But tonight, she feels the prickling feeling of unease. It’s like she is being watched.

She shuts the window and draws the curtains, rolling away from the window and drifts off to sleep.

…

The shrill of Mika’s phone alarm goes off in the pre-dawn silence of 5 AM. But Mika isn’t in bed. Clad in a workout outfit, she pauses her crunches to silence the alarm with a quick tap before resuming her set.

She breathes in a steady rhythm as she continues her routine. Push-ups, squats, stretches. Robotic, meditative, form perfect. Once completed, she finishes her morning routine with a quick shower and a light breakfast of the ready meal she picked up at the convenience store the previous night. By the time the city begins to stir, Mika is already dressed in her unassuming hoodie and ready to leave.

Stepping out of her shabby apartment block, Mika enters the narrow side street just catching the first light of sunrise. The air is damp, carrying the faint tang of oil and mildew. She lives not far from the public housing blocks she patrolled just a day before.

The streets have changed since she first moved in. The once-brazen crowd of delinquents has thinned, their more conspicuous activities pushed elsewhere. Yet traces of their presence linger—eroding graffiti tags on the walls, crushed cigarette butts scattered on the ground, a subtle tension hanging in the air from the remaining residents.

As Mika walks, conversations hush, waiting for her to pass through. The shifty figures loitering in the shadows pause their movements. Mika has grown used to the stares. She is, after all, no ordinary resident here. Her reputation as an Enforcement officer precedes her, even in plain clothes.

She approaches a group of disheveled men smoking by the alley’s edge. Their cheap black suits are wrinkled, sleeves rolled up to their elbows. One of them, wearing sunglasses despite the dim morning light, flicks his butt to the ground and stares at her.

She stops in her tracks, locking eyes with the man. An unspoken tension rises between the two.

“Officer,” the man greets, bowing slightly.

Mika stays stoic, her expression unreadable. “Stay out of trouble,” she responds, her tone neutral. She breaks the gaze and continues down the alley. The men watch her go, their whispers resuming only when she’s out of earshot.

As soon as Mika steps onto the main avenue with public activity, she sighs in relief in the immediate change of atmosphere. Pulling out her phone, she taps a request for an autotaxi. Just as she lowers her hand, she feels a pair of eyes on her. She turns sharply on instinct, but doesn’t see anything or anyone unusual.

The sleek metallic black autotaxi pulls up against the curb. She scans her surroundings one more time, gazing back at the alleyway, before entering the backseat of the vehicle.